I love convenience. You could say, in many ways, that I’ve organised my life around it.
I have only ever lived in major metropolises – Seoul, Toronto, New York. When I visit other places, I try to be as close as possible to things such as WiFi and hospitals and as far away as possible from things like bugs and bad plumbing. When I make money, I spend it on making my days more convenient: more convenient places to live, more convenient ways to travel, more convenient meals to eat. As is true for many people who are lucky enough to live like I do, there is a real part of me that dreams of a frictionless existence, made possible by all of the modern conveniences at my fingertips.
And yet, at the same time, I have devoted my life to inconvenience. To be an artist – and especially to be a filmmaker – is to be constantly engaged in one inconvenience after another. The inconvenience of not being able to stop thinking about an idea, the inconvenience of finding time to write it down and, crucially, the inconvenience of working at it until it is worthy of being shared with others. The inconvenience then of finding the money and the time and the willingness of hundreds of people to align their schedules so that they can join you in making the film. And then the inconvenience of shutting down city blocks, or erecting sound stages, or waiting for the sun to rise or set for just the right amount of time so that you can get the shot. And the inconveniences don’t stop there: sitting for hundreds of hours with artists and technicians for edits, colour, VFX, sound design, leading all the way up to – if you’re lucky – the inconvenience of getting on a plane and putting on an outfit and getting in a car and walking down a carpet at a premiere.
