The Art of Telling Stories: Aurora Gordon

The Art of Telling Stories is a series of posts designed to take a deeper look at what it means to tell a story. Writers tell stories constantly, but many other people in many other vocations tell their stories as well, but in other, often more subtle, ways.

Today's guest is Aurora Gordon, a dailies colorist for television, a video producer, and a brilliant artist. You can check out her newest trailer about the Daily Ocean as well as several of her other projects on her website or on Vimeo. In addition, the image to the right is one in a series of nine that will be available to benefit the Red Cross of Oklahoma with the recent tornado damage.

Aurora, tell us a little bit about yourself.

I'm a dailies colorist for television - and that means I'm the one applying a look to the footage
immediately after it was shot (so I work the graveyard shift, yikes!). We do this so that the footage will look as close to the final intention as possible for the rough cuts before the footage goes to a final color session for polishing, and eventually broadcasting on TV. In ideal situations I talk to the DP beforehand, and we discuss what sort of look he's going for.  Then it's up to me to come up with the right "cocktail" of dial pushes to recreate that everyday.  I go through all the footage and make sure if more than one camera is used that both cameras have the same color balance.  So, if B Camera looks too blue compared to A Camera, I'll either add yellow to B Camera, or add blue to A Camera.

What that means in reality: I stare at monitors overnight and turn knobs and roll track balls!

In my daytime I'm a video producer and lately I've been working on a documentary about a woman who goes to clean up the beach 20 minutes at a time.  I work mostly on personal documentary style projects but I've been known to take a commission or two. Especially if it means working with an awesome small business.

How would you define storytelling?

Wow, storytelling defined!  I'd say good storytelling is forgetting about your ego and relaying events in a generous, affordable, relatable way. Being a liaison to the world - even if it's a small story.


Would you consider yourself a storyteller? Why?

Definitely.  I used to get asked a lot, are you ever going to specialize and focus on just videos, or just color? And I think it's a lot of the same skill set.  To me it's almost the same job.  As a storyteller you have to get this idea in your head out to an audience - and as a colorist I have to get the idea in the DP's head out to the audience. But, there's still a lot of room for my interpretation.  For example if someone says to me "Make this scene warm!" my first image is a slightly yellowed cozy kitchen, probably with something being baked for hungry guests in the oven.  So I'll then grade the scene with my interpretation of warm - gold familiarity.  But another colorist might grade it like a warm body on a beach - almost red. I live in a land of subtlety and perhaps it's hard for a lot of people to understand nonverbal storytelling as the same as Storytelling with a capital S - but that's what I like to think I do best: subtly transfer feelings.


How do you decide what images tell the story and what ones don't?

When I'm cutting a documentary project, I'm just ruthless. I ask myself: what's the most important image here, and what am I really trying to say?  Does this other image inform and support that? No?  On the cutting room floor it goes then. Another good question to ask is: Would an alien get this image?  Hopefully it's powerful enough some creature from Mars would even understand.


What impact does colour have on the story being told?

Ah - this is a good question. Like I said before, it's a nonverbal art form. I think really great color can take a cold, steely scene from a movie like Skyfall, and make a lonely spy trapped in solitary confinement relatable to everybody's life. What's actually on screen might be a creepy dude with a bad attitude and a bionic jaw, but everybody has a time in their life that was blue and steely and lonely. Sometimes it's easier to say with a look than words.


Do you think you could tell a story with just colour? How?

I think there are color arcs like there are story arcs. I don't know if I could just pop colors on screen and say something a viewer could understand though. I do think oftentimes the color really confirms what you're seeing.  For example, oftentimes movies will end warmer than they started.  If it's a happy ending, it probably looks a little rosy too.  A filmmaker can dial in a look that says, "You might not feel this way, but here's how I want you to feel."  I think a stylized look can be a really honest tip of the hat to the fact the story is of course coming from a biased and subjective point of view.  For example, Wes Anderson always uses his yellowed, aged, signature look and I think that's a nice way to subtly say to the audience, "This is my fading memory and it may or may not be what's really occurring in the world."

But I also think there can be stories told with color in homes.  I'm fascinated with the way people choose to decorate and paint walls. I think there's a reason some people have dark walls and some people have light walls.

What is your favourite part of the work you do and why?

My favorite part is probably the moment before I dial it in.  (Do people know what that means?  We say a scene is "dialed in" when we've got the knobs literally dialed in to the right position. It's another way to say "nailed it.")

When I'm working on a challenging scene I might go back and forth with 10 different versions that are all minor, minor changes, but from version 1 all the way to version 10 is cumulatively a big change.  I like the challenging scenes because oftentimes the moment before it's dialed in is the moment I try something new and discover a new way to combine shadow, midtone, and highlight color values.


What is your favourite colour?

Green!  Our eyes are most sensitive to around 550 nm, which is about green. So I like green because it illuminates most things for humans.

Also, when my husband James first met me he insisted I have green eyes, even though my driver's license and everybody else in my life says I have blue eyes.  He sees me green instead and it makes me laugh.


Is there anything else you would like me to share?

Eat your vegetables! Play with animals! Don't buy things that sell you another version of yourself!


Don't forget to visit Rory's website to learn more about what she does and what she can do for you!

Art of Telling Stories: Amber Anderson

The next guest in the series of interviews on The Art of Telling Stories is Amber Anderson, a graphic designer and animator. Amber is always looking for new people to work with and new projects to work on - and asking questions is always free! You can find out more about Amber and her services by visiting her website.

Amber, tell me a little bit about who you are and what you do.

I am a self-educated designer, animator, developer, and programmer that believes design and visual appeal are a mainstay in any marketing or branding effort, with eight years of professional experience in the fields of information technology, social media, website design, e-marketing, branding, animation, website development  project management, and graphic design. I create and design end-to-end solutions with standards-compliant code with an emphasis on identity branding, efficacy, cross-platform browser compatibility, interactivity, accessibility, and search engine optimization. 

How would you define storytelling?

When I think of storytelling, I think of someone expressing themselves creatively using an outlet such as writing. When someone says storytelling, I think of a fable, or someone taking inspiration from a fairy tale.

In what way can images fit together to help tell a story?

Images and graphics are key elements of supporting and/or singly expressing a point inside a story. They give the audience something to envision and imagine when exploring an idea or concept. They also give the reader an identification point of a way to feel connected to the author and the author's vision.

How do you decide what images or colours tell a part of a story and what ones don't?

It depends on whether I'm using graphics to tell the story or graphics to support the story. When using graphics to tell the story, I go on my own gut instinct of what I feel and what I see when I review the content. When using them as support for an existing story, I pull key words, scenes, feelings, characters, and seasons, along with other components from the story to visually express the writer's vision.

I use all of these elements to visually format the story. That can be anything - changing fonts, sizes, colours, graphics, layouts, margins - formatting is everything. Formatting is what makes the document visually come together. It's what makes it easy to read, it's what makes the story come alive, it's taking your vision combined with the author's vision and making it tangible for someone to be able to connect to.

What is your favourite design work that you've done?

My favourite projects are ones that I get a hand in all the way down the line. I would have to pick something where I got to do some formatting of text, graphic design, story boarding, animation, framework design - any project where I get to touch it from beginning to end. For example, I recently worked on a project for a client that was producing multiple toolkits to provide a variety of programs working towards similar goals but in different locations, in order to have access to tools and resources to help them better implement their events and assist their clientele. On that project, I designed the framework, the templates for the documents, created their branding style, worked on story boards, and developed tutorial animations for the final product, created visual graphics for reports, and more.

In what way does branding tell a story?

Branding expresses the vision of that individual (or organization). It expresses not only how they see themselves, but how they want to be seen by other people. Branding is a stylistic consistency that allows customers to identify with, feel connected to, and know that they can have faith in the company or organization and its products.

What is your favourite colour and why?

If you had asked me that question twenty years ago, I would have told you anything but pink. If you asked me that question today as a 32-year-old woman, I would tell you that my favourite colour is pink. I used to run away from anything that labeled me as a girl when I was younger because I thought that meant constraints, keeping me inside a box, holding me to a standard, having to be a part of a societal norm. As an adult, I realized that being a girl and liking pink are probably two of the most powerful things that I own. I learned to embrace my gender but not conform to the societal norms or stereotypes, and instead created my own way of thinking that didn't necessitate the colour pink, but still welcomed it. The colour pink signifies to me where I started and how far I've come professionally and personally. It's a reminder to me as to how strong we all really are. 

Similarly, what colour do you use the most frequently when designing and why?

Grey. It's a neutral colour, it's a complimentary colour, and it doesn't overpower or take over a program or organization's already established colour pallette. It's a way to add in lines, colours, and graphics with a calming appeal which doesn't clash.

Is there anything else you would like to share?

Creating a brand for your business or organization is important. It's as important as buying a house. It's something that is going to be with your business for a very long time. Don't settle. Don't find one designer and think that you have to stay there. Don't take no for an answer. Don't lose your vision because someone is trying to tell you that you're ideas aren't valid or that you're wrong. Your brand is a part of you. It should be a reflection of you and it should tell your story.

A Closet Full of Teleports

I used to have this closet--just a little bit bigger than a shower. At first it was filled with my parents' stuff. After a fair amount of begging, my parents let me move their stuff into a different closet. In place of their stuff I put two bookshelves--each filled with books (naturally). 

The thing about books is that they're filled with stories--and not just stories, but whole worlds with their own laws of physics, their own gods, and their own fantastic people--and books allow us to enter their worlds, learn their physics, meet their gods, and watch their people.

It's like having a closet full of teleports.

I organized my books by colour. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, then black, grey, white, and brown. I knew every book I owned personally. I knew what colour it was. I knew what characters were in it, who wrote it, what happened in it, the laws specific to its universe. I read them over and over--and not just my favourites--all of them.

That said, my favourite books did get special treatment: I probably read Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card) eight times (and the rest of the series almost as much), and I read Ella Enchanted (Gail Carson Levine, don't watch the movie) four times a year for at least six years--and I still read it at least once a year. The first chapter of Emily of New Moon (L. M. Montgomery) always made me feel better when I was irritable (it still does), and just this weekend I finished The Runaway Princess (Kate Coombs) and The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf (Gerald Morris), both for the nth time.

My favourite author of all time is Terry Pratchett, partly because his sarcasm is fantastic and partly because his universe is so huge and likeable. Every book I've read by Neil Gaimon has piqued my interest, and Wordsworth is my favourite poet. Or maybe it's Coleridge... ("I fear thee ancient mariner! I fear thy skinny hand!")

Then I went to college. And you know what? I took my books with me

But there are so many--J. R. R. Tolkien, Kurt Vonnegut, Charles Dickens, Ray Bradbury, Arthur Lobel, Roald Dahl, Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe, Christopher Paolini, C. S. Lewis, Rudyard Kipling, William Shakespeare, Michael Crighton, James Herriot, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Franz Kafka, A. A. Milne, Tamora Pierce...

Go read them all.

Each book is a little piece of the universe (or parallel universe)--it's another place, another time, another world where anything can happen--since I myself cannot go whirling through the stars, I send my brain on extravagant journeys with hobbits and dwarves, or sit down to eat breakfast with a Wookie and a Martian. I even feel this way about text books. Even though I am not experiencing mysterious places and creatures, I am visiting my own world with new eyes and from an untried perspective.

A closet full of teleports. 

Now I keep them everywhere: in my kitchen, my living room, my bedroom. I leave piles of them on the floor next to my bed and scattered over my couch--on the coffee table, by my desk, in the bathroom.

This way, if I ever want to go somewhere, I don't have to go very far.

Because I have a house full of teleports.

Levi the Cactus Can't Eat Bagels

There is a cactus, who I have good reason to believe has named himself Levi, that has been staring at me for four days. His pot has swirls of blue and orange and white and brown which remind me of a planet that has a lot of iron floating through the sky. Now, I don't understand anything about planetary physics, but I imagine that a planet with a skyfull of iron would probably be quite hot and dry--and Levi would probably like to live there.

Here on Earth we have a skyfull of water, with clouds always moving around and picking up more water and then dumping it on the ground, and we keep loads of it in giant buckets named Atlantic and Pacific, and smaller buckets like Huron and Baikal. I like water because it's romantic to look at street lights in the rain, and because puddle jumping is a delightfully endorphin-releasing activity.

Sometimes I dance in the rain, too. I like to swirl around and pretend I'm flying, as if the floor melts away from under my feet, and all I have left is the strength of my arms and the spinning of the universe to keep me from falling. My hair flies out around my face, and my skirt sparkles in the dim light of the stars, and I dip my fingers briefly into the pansophy of movement, the pansophy of time; I come to a halt and watch the atoms and the galaxies whirl past, but only for a moment because I can't stand to not join in.

Then I hand Levi an umbrella because he drowns easily, and we dance together down the street of Universe City... and then I'm ejected from my daydream because Dave shows up with a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. Yum. It's too bad Levi can't have some too.