Animating Sites of Becoming — Poyen Wang and Heesoo Kwon at Digital Aesthetics Workshop, April 28, 2026

We are pleased to announce our first event of spring quarter! Poyen Wang and Heesoo Kwon will join us for a joint talk on Tuesday, April 28, from 5-6:30pm PT. The event, titled, “Animating Sites of Becoming,” will take place in the Stanford Humanities Center Board Room. Refreshments will be served.

Zoom link for those unable to join in-person: tinyurl.com/mrx4ndz2

Poyen Wang | Cultvating Chora: CGI, Interiority, and Queer Presence

Through recent practice, Wang situates CGI world-building within the discursive terrains of psychoanalysis and queer theory, proposing a parallel mode of thinking in which digital environments function as both mental architectures and sites of becoming. Wang approaches CGI not simply as a representational tool but as a method of inquiry—one that constructs, destabilizes, and reconfigures interior worlds. Drawing on the concept of Chora as an ambiguous, unnamable, and unstable spatial condition, Wang treats CGI image-making as a form of writing through which narrative emerges not as a linear structure but as emotional accumulation, positioning queerness not as identity but as a condition of continual becoming. The work asks: how might digital image-making rearticulate interiority, and what forms of presence emerge when it is staged as a performative, psychological scene? 

Bio:

Poyen Wang is an artist and filmmaker born and raised in Taiwan, currently based in New York City. His work approaches the moving image as a theatrical, performative medium, staging psychologically charged scenes that explore intimacy, vulnerability, and power. Through cinematic tropes, spoken word, and atmospheric composition, he constructs a poetics of queer presence—fleeting, fractured, and unresolved—while interrogating the power dynamics of image-making. In his work, viewing becomes a charged exchange where gaze and presence interweave, dissolving the boundaries between spectator and subject.

Wang’s work has recently been included in Greater New York 2026 at the MoMA PS1. He has presented work at institutions and venues including Asia Art Archive in America; 99 Canal, New York; Essex Flowers, New York; Kunstmuseum Bonn, Bonn; Kasseler Kunstverein and Kasseler Dokfest, Kassel; Wassaic Project, New York; the Bronx Museum of the Arts, New York; Taipei Digital Art Center, Taipei; and 18th Street Arts Center, Santa Monica, among others. He teaches in the Department of Film and Media at Hunter College in New York City.

Heesoo Kwon | Between Body and Code 

Heesoo Kwon’s practice unfolds through Leymusoom, an ongoing autobiographical feminist religion she initiated in 2017. Her work brings together personal life, family histories, Korean mythology, and ritual practices to explore how memory, identity, and relationships evolve over time. Working across video, installation, photography, and digital media, Kwon uses CGI and AI to build interconnected worlds. Through projects such as Leymusoom Firefly and Premolt, she creates an evolving archive linking personal and ancestral memory, often reimagining her female ancestors as digital bodies. Her work reconsiders family, lineage, and time, exploring how digital and spiritual frameworks can reshape memory, the body, and collective experience.

Bio:

Heesoo Kwon is a Korean multimedia artist whose  work engages in ritualistic, autoethnographic, and archival practices. Employing 3D animation, modeling and artificial intelligence technologies as procreant tools to forge and traverse realms, Kwon engages in the rewriting of mythic matrilineal histories, the queering of familial relations, and the envisioning of decentralized communities and memoryscapes, notably through the self-referential, feminist religion Leymusoom, and the Firefly series which takes as its genesis AI-augmented family photographs from the artist’s childhood. In Kwon’s heterotopic hyperspaces, she abstracts concepts of time and memory, transcending the legacies of sacrifice, trauma and patriarchal violence to offer instead transformative modes of existence, liberation and community. 

Kwon received a Master of Fine Arts at the University of California, Berkeley, and is currently an Assistant Professor in the Animation department at the California College of the Arts. Her work has been exhibited internationally at institutions including the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles; Cantor Arts Center at Stanford University, Stanford; Orange County Museum of Art, Costa Mesa; Buk Seoul Museum of Arts, Seoul; Huis Marseille, Amsterdam; V&A Museum, London; Eye Filmmuseum, Amsterdam; West Den Haag, The Hague; Centre Wallonie Bruxelles, Paris; M+, Hong Kong; and WMA Space, Hong Kong. Kwon is the recipient of the 2025 New & Experimental Works (NEW) Program Grant from the Kenneth Rainin Foundation, the 2025 Eureka Fellowship from the Fleishhacker Foundation, the 2024 Trellis Art Fund Stepping Stone Grant, the 2023 Artadia Award, and the 2022 Hewlett 50 Arts Commission. Her work is in the permanent collections of KADIST, Cantor Arts Center, and Huis Marseille.

This event is generously co-sponsored by the Asian American Research Center at Stanford and Asian American Art Initiative. 

Post-Cinematic Animation

Today I presented a short paper on “Post-Cinematic Animation” as part of a roundtable discussion at the Society for Animation Studies. The roundtable, on “Expanded Animation,” was organized by Deborah Levitt and Phillip Thurtle, and also included Heather Warren-Crow, Misha Mihailova, and Thomas Lamarre—all of whom gave excellent papers. Here’s mine:

My recent book Discorrelated Images (Duke UP 2020) is not first and foremost intended as an intervention in the field of animation studies. Rather, it is an attempt to bring together some of the primarily aesthetic concerns of cinema studies and visual culture more generally with media philosophical and media archaeological interests in the invisible, or anaesthetic if not positively anti-aesthetic, dimensions of technical infrastructures in order to understand how, on the one hand, images have become unyoked from subjective perception and how, on the other hand, this post-phenomenological “discorrelation” opens new avenues of political control and subjectivation. In short, algorithmic images are processed in microtemporal intervals that elude the window of subjective perception; operating faster than us, they thus not only exceed perceptual objecthood but also anticipate our subjectivities; with their predictive or protentional, future-oriented operations, such images mark a significant departure from the past-based recording paradigm of a cinematic media regime, such that post-cinematic media become potent agencies or vectors that lead the way in shaping who we will be; and they do this by operating at or on the cusp between the visible and the invisible, the subjective and the pre-subjective, the aesthetic and the insensible. 

But if, as I have said, this argument is not primarily framed in terms of animation studies, it necessarily implicates animation as both a thematic and a medial site of change. In a thread that runs through the book, the question of animation becomes a question precisely of the difference between cinema and post-cinema, one that resonates, in many ways, with Lev Manovich’s argument in the mid-1990s that the postindexical images of “digital cinema” are closer in spirit (and, in some respects, closer materially) to pre-cinematic technologies of animation—phenakistiscopes, thaumatropes, zoetropes, and the like—than to cinema in its classical form. Beyond formal and technical dimensions, I am interested in the philosophical implications, such as those foregrounded by Alan Cholodenko who, writing even earlier than Manovich, argued that “the idea of animation” should be approached “as a notion whose purchase would be transdisciplinary, transinstitutional, implicating the most profound, complex and challenging questions of our culture, questions in the areas of being and becoming, time, space, motion, change—indeed, life itself.” My approach to animation, as the locus of a media-historical transformation that also concerns a reconfiguration of subjectivation’s material parameters, therefore mediates between Manovich’s technical focus and Cholodenko’s philosophical one. I therefore follow Deborah Levitt in her recent probing of animation as “the dominant medium of our time”—by which she refers not to a specific technique but to a broad cultural and sociotechnical condition, which is related as much to moving-image technologies as to biomedical ones (from “novel developments in the biological sciences that open possibilities for producing living beings” to antidepressants and hormone therapy for transgender people); for Levitt, in short, ours is “the age of the animatic apparatus.” 

Two other recent theoretical interventions, by Esther Leslie and Joel McKim (writing in a special issue of Animation) and Jim Hodge (in his book Sensations of History: Animation and New Media Art), both suggest that animation mediates between human sense and the insensible processes of computation—a suggestion that helps ground the interrelation of concrete changes in media infrastructure and the forms of subjectivity that they subtend. For example, processes like motion smoothing, in which our so-called “smart TVs” algorithmically compute new images between visible frames and engage in a real-time generative tweening operation, or DeepFake and related AI-driven imaging processes that categorically elude perception in their black boxed operation—such acts of animation in its computationally expanded field activate what Merleau-Ponty referred to as the “inner diaphragm” between subjectivity and objectivity, which, “prior to stimuli and sensory contents, […] determines, infinitely more than they do, what our reflexes and perceptions will be able to aim at in the world, the area of our possible operations, the scope of our life.” That is, algorithmic animation is situated between embodied sensation and the circuits of computational processing, and it thus sets such a pre-subjective and likewise pre-objective membrane in motion, fundamentally recomputing what counts as an image and what our relation to it is. If this means that what Husserl called “the fundamental correlation between noesis and noema,” or the relational bond between perceptual consciousness and its intentional objects, is called into question by computational processes, then animation’s central role as mediator ensures that such discorrelation is not the end but the reinvigoration of embodied sensation—indeed, a redefinition of life itself in the contemporary world.

References:

Cholodenko, Alan. “Introduction.” In The Illusion of Life, edited by Alan Cholodenko, 9-36. Sydney: Power Publications, 1991.

Denson, Shane. Discorrelated Images. Durham: Duke University Press, 2020.

Hodge, James J. Sensations of History: Animation and New Media Art. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2019.

Husserl, Edmund. The Phenomenology of Internal Time Consciousness. Translated by James Churchill. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1964.

Leslie, Esther, and Joel McKim. “Life Remade: Critical Animation in the Digital Age.” Animation 12.3 (2017): 207-213.

Levitt, Deborah. The Animatic Apparatus: Animation, Vitality, and the Futures of the Image. Winchester, UK: Zero Books, 2018.

Manovich, Lev. “What Is Digital Cinema?” In Post-Cinema: Theorizing 21st-Century Film, edited by Shane Denson and Julia Leyda, 20-50. Falmer, UK: REFRAME Books, 2016.

Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phenomenology of Perception. Translated by Colin Smith. New York: Routledge, 2002. 

Animation and Discorrelation: Two Talks in Toronto

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Next month, May 16-18, I will be in Toronto, where I’ll give two talks:

First, on May 16, I’ll be talking about my book project Discorrelated Images at the Cinema Studies Institute at the University of Toronto.

Then, on May 17, I will be giving a talk titled “Cinematic and Post-Cinematic Animation: Medium, Theme, Phenomenology” at the Spiral Film and Philosophy Conference (the theme of which is It’s Alive! Film/Form/Life). The full conference program is online, here: https://spiralfilmphilosophy.ca/program-2019/

Life to Those Pixels: Imag(in)ing Future Bodies of Film and Media — Dec. 14 at University of Zurich

Screen Shot 2018-11-12 at 9.02.12 AMOn December 14, 2018, I will be giving a talk titled “Life to Those Pixels: Imag(in)ing Future Bodies of Film and Media” at the University of Zurich, as part of the Imag(in)ing Future Bodies series hosted by the Doctoral Program of the English Department and organized by Morgane Ghilardi and Hannah Schoch. The lecture will be followed by a workshop in which we will discuss related work on post-cinema and discorrelated images.

For more information, see the program website here, or register for the event here.

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Nov. 9, Georgetown University: Post-Cinema, Artificial Creation, and the Concept of Animation

Denson Poster-2aOn Friday, November 9, I will be giving a talk titled “Post-Cinema, Artificial Creation, and the Concept of Animation: From Frankenstein to Ex Machina” at Georgetown University’s Film and Media Studies Program.

This is work stemming from my current book project, Discorrelated Images, which I am excited to present. Thanks to Caetlin Benson-Allott and Sky Sitney for inviting me to speak! For further information about the event, please contact Caetlin Benson-Allott.

The Meaning of “Animation” in Edison’s Frankenstein (1910)

This video is an experimental “annotation essay” that develops a reading of Edison’s Frankenstein (1910) through on-screen text annotations. This is the complete film, unedited except for the annotations and new digital intertitles.

The video’s argument is adapted from Chapter 3 of my book Postnaturalism: Frankenstein, Film, and the Anthropotechnical Interface: “Monsters in Transit: Edison’s Frankenstein.”

This is my second Frankenstein-themed video essay. The first one, on sound in James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931), can be found in the online journal [in]Transition.

Animating Frankenstein (Stanford Graphic Narrative Project, Nov. 16, 2016)

animatingfrankenstein-poster

This coming Wednesday (Nov. 16, 2016 at 6pm), I will be presenting a talk titled “Animating Frankenstein: Film, Comics, Visual Culture.” The event is organized by the Stanford Graphic Narrative Project (under the leadership of Mia Lewis and Scott Bukatman) and hosted by the Stanford Humanities Center. More info here.

Non-Diegetic Decapitation, or: The Animated Gif as Film-Theoretical Instrument

monster-entry

In my book Postnaturalism: Frankenstein, Film and the Anthropotechnical Interface, I follow Robert Spadoni in arguing that James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) harnessed the energies of the recent transition to sound cinema, focusing them in the menacing figure of what Spadoni calls an “uncanny body.” I contend that Whale’s “capture” of these energies manifests itself,

above all, in the face of the monster, which, beneath the iconized veneer familiar to us all, undermines self-reflexivity of the conceptual sort with a non-reflective surface that refuses subjective correlation; the facial image, I wish to say, harbors a Teflon-like substrate to which phenomenological intentions just won’t stick. It is this substrate, this non-iconizable material excess of the monstrous facial image, that, in 1931, mediated the molecular force of transitionality.

To recover an experience of that visage, which would bring us face to face with the alien agency of Frankenstein’s filmic body, requires that we peel back the layers of popular-cultural associations that have accrued upon it over the years, that we rewind all the subsequent Frankenstein films and return to a situation prior even to Bride of Frankenstein’s melodramatic/ironic humanization of the face as the source of articulate words and expressive tears. We must try to imagine how terrifying the monster’s face was to its first audiences, who did not even have the comfort of a fixed genre label “horror” at their disposal with which to categorize, process, and thereby mitigate the disturbing nature of their experience. Indeed, this pre-stabilized horror film’s particular power to frighten was linked directly to the pre-iconic perception of the monster; as Spadoni points out: “How scary the film was on its first release is suggested by the fact that at that time, and unlike any time since then, the view of Boris Karloff’s monster as a sympathetic figure was not unanimously taken for granted” (93).

Clearly, there is no question of actually recovering the experience, or of seeing these images with the eyes of a spectator at a 1931 screening of the film. But, then again, I’m not quite sure what that would mean even if it were possible. For part of my argument about the “molecular force” of the image, which at some level “refuses subjective correlation,” is that horror was created here by bypassing conscious registration altogether. In this sense, then, there simply is no model spectator against which to measure my own experience of the images. Instead, if what I am suggesting makes sense, there is an experiential gap around which these images revolve and which they serve to invoke.

monster-face-cu

Thus, despite the monstrous facial image’s almost immediate degradation to a ubiquitous marketing gimmick, and despite the seemingly total transfer of its uncanny monstrosity to the diegesis (upon which basis Frankenstein served as a shining example for the subsequent generic stabilization of horror), it is possible, I maintain, to locate a gap in the net of textuality cast upon the image. In this gap, which is also a sort of hole in the narrative, the monster assaulted his first viewers with a physical shock, subject only to a visceral sort of processing, but which was just as quickly forgotten. Ground zero, where the impact of this experience is the greatest, and which marks a point of contact with an alien agency, is reached in the scene when the newly animated monster makes his first appearance onscreen.

All we can do, in other words, is circle around this “gap,” which I have done repeatedly in my work on Frankenstein, revisiting this scene over and over to think about it from all possible angles. But a “gap in the net of textuality” implies rather straightforwardly that, at least in certain respects, any textual description of the scene will necessarily be inadequate.

This is why, more recently, I have turned to videographic explorations of the images. My video essay “Sight and Sound Conspire: Monstrous Audio-Vision in James Whale’s Frankenstein” takes no fewer than three passes at the monster’s first appearance — without, however, stopping to dwell very long on the monster’s face and the breakdown of spatiotemporal relations that, I am suggesting, are occasioned by its first appearance. For my point, again, is that the forward motion of the film and its narrative is halted in its tracks, and a seemingly timeless space (or a non-spatialized duration) opens up and engulfs me, the viewer — though it all happens in the blink of an eye, so I may not be aware of anything beyond some vague feeling of dread or what we call “the uncanny.” Clearly, the seeming timelessness of the experience resists the linear exposition of the video essay as well, thus making repetition all the more necessary.

monster-face-xcu

I want to suggest, then, that perhaps the closest approximation of this experience of timelessness is to be found in the form of the animated gif, the repetitive looping nature of which quite literally rips the images out of their diegetic contexts, helping us to understand how

this scene establishes the very possibility of [the head’s] detachment by first exposing the head from all sides, thus turning it into an object per se rather than a flat image, and the cut-in to the close-up seals the deal by making the head emerge from the screen, separated from the monster’s diegetic body. This non-diegetic decapitation stubbornly resists integration as pertaining to “one diegetic subject,” but the experience also lays the necessary groundwork for its retroactive textualization. This, then, is the very genesis of the monstrous face’s iconicity, the initiation of a process that will turn that face, seen from whatever angle and from whatever distance, into a sort of eternal close-up.

Here, finally, is my attempt to “visualize” this experience — where the “objecthood” per se of the head as a detachable thing (abstracted from the narrative and made available as a three-dimensional image, instantly destined to become a Halloween mask) is rendered visible through the subperceptible durations of a “flicker” gif. Look closely, for a little while, and (barring some negative physiological or psychological reaction, for which I cannot take responsibility), you’ll see the monster’s head start to assert its autonomy, to separate itself from the space around it, and to protrude outward from the screen to approach you. Still only an approximation, perhaps, the looping repetition of these microtemporal images intimate to us materially what takes place in the imperceptible “gap in the net of textuality”:

frankenflicker