The Tapestry of Influence: The Inspirations That Shape Us
I've been reflecting on the layers of disparate elements that have molded my perspective–and I encourage you to do the same.
At my core, there's a fascination with people who distill complexity into its essence. Whether it's in architecture, philosophy, comedy, or design, I'm drawn to minds that cut through the noise to reveal fundamental truths, much like the concepts explored in The Art of Deliberate Friction-Building.
Form: Simplicity and Modernism
Take architecture and design: Mies van der Rohe and Jony Ive are both examples of simplicity in form. Their approach to architecture, typography, and product design embodies a Western intellectual tradition that resonates deeply with me. After comedy led me to Chicago, I also found a city that breathes modernist architecture (and where, in fact, it was born thanks to exiled Bauhaus masters).
My taste for certain design started in childhood casually surrounded by everyday Brionvega appliances designed by Sottsass and Sapper, which echoes the principles found in The Lost Art of Single-Tasking Devices. It evolved through iPods and iBooks in high school, and ultimately drove me to pursue Architecture and Industrial Design in college (spoiler alert: I quit, close to graduation, to work full time as a satirist.)
Spirit: Simplicity and Zen
But the pursuit of essence isn't limited to the visual. Spiritually, I've found profound wisdom in Zen teachings, particularly through Suzuki Roshi, since my early 20s. This introspective journey began in my teenage years, sitting alone and reading the Tao Te Ching. It has even liberated my understanding of Christianity and other spiritual traditions, deepening my interest in others' experiences.
A chance walk by the San Francisco Zen Center during my first visit to the Bay Area at 25 further shaped this path, eventually leading me to explore the intersection of mindfulness and theater improvisation in Chicago.
Strength and Levity: Comedy, Improv, Satire
My appreciation for truth-finding extends to those who use humor as their medium. This journey began with Daniele Luttazzi, a prodigious Italian plagiarist who inadvertently introduced me to the works of George Carlin and other famous American stand-up comedians. Their caustic wit and social commentary shaped my view of the media, technology, and society's paradoxes.
This fascination led me to devour the works of Lenny Bruce, Mort Sahl, and many others, ultimately guiding me towards improv in Chicago. My entire 20s were dedicated to satirizing the political situation in Italy through radio, TV, and nascent online platforms.
A pivotal moment came when I was 12, accidentally watching “Man on the Moon” in the theaters (my freshly separated mom thought a Jim Carrey movie would be uplifting). The film's surreal tone of constantly pranking the world and the self has influenced me profoundly. Even now, 25 years later, I unconsciously bow like Andy Kaufman did–a lifelong homage often mistaken for cultural appropriation from Japan.
Among the degradation of high school education in the outskirts of Rome, I was lucky in three fields: our literature professor, Enzo, organized a weekly movie forum that encompassed Kubrick, Allen, Fellini, Almodovar, Pasolini, and more. As rich as Italy is with classical arts, he believed cinema was as important as those. This was an exception to what I discussed in How High School Preps You for Trivia But Not for Real Life.
Maurizio, the technical education professor, held a lab for animating in Flash, designing in Fireworks, modeling in 3DSMax, and shooting shorts with digital Super-8s and Avid.
This mix of interests in social dynamics, media, spirit, and simplicity, much later led me to thinkers like Ivan Illich, whose commitment to humanism and social engagement has been a guiding light in my interactions with the world.
Craft: Video and Audio Self-Production
But let's not forget the power of pop culture. The depths of Neon Genesis Evangelion, the innovative design of the Dreamcast, and the artistic vision of 2000s SEGA games have all left their mark. These seemingly “lowbrow” influences connect surprisingly well with “highbrow” concepts–just look at how a game like REZ links Kandinsky, the Bauhaus movement, EDM, and hacker culture.
I could boast about the French and German literature and philosophy I've devoured, from Balzac to Heidegger, Baudelaire to Tolstoy. But Carl Barks' Disney comics and Toriyama's Dragon Ball shaped me just as, if not more, profoundly. I only ever cried for a famous stranger when Akira Toriyama died.
My early forays into technology–installing my first Red Hat Linux distro at 14–have been just as necessary as my love for Illich's social theories. I'm a tinkerer at heart, whether it's producing and editing hundreds of videos, tweaking processes for writers and performers in public radio programs, or designing machines and systems for others and me.
Night after night, I self-produced over a decade of video, since before YouTube or algorithmic feeds were a thing. Initially, this was ahead of the times enough that I was hired full time by a national newspaper as a videographer and author at age 21 (even dropping out of my first college attempt, as mentioned earlier).
Looking at the Tapestry of Yourself
This tapestry of influences has woven itself into my creative work, particularly in photography.
Like with my decade in improv comedy (graduating from The Second City in Chicago and producing shows across Europe) I'm drawn to street photography because it marries the formal elements of artistic creations (or the lack thereof) with the spontaneous truths of life.
Street photos are like visual zen koans to me–you sense the truth, but explaining it only dilutes its power.
I've always been an observer, finding marvel in unexpected corners of life. This outsider perspective, perhaps amplified by coming out to everyone as gay over 20 years ago at age 15 (my school a mile from the Vatican, in a heavily proletarian but neo-fascist area) combined with my diverse influences, allows me to see connections between seemingly unrelated ideas. Like finding common ground between Sottsass's design philosophy and George Carlin's comedy.
The uniqueness of your perspective comes from how varied influences intertwine.
My voice emerges from the unlikely combination of flashy games and zen philosophy, or the juxtaposition of satire in everyday life and Mies van der Rohe's architecture. In these unexpected connections, we find our authentic expression.
So, here's my invitation to you: What are your influences? How have they shaped your way of expressing yourself and interacting with others?
Be honest and comprehensive–include everything from your aunt's wisdom to your favorite trash movie. The interesting parts of you come from how these diverse elements mix and match.
Your unique voice is about how you combine the highbrow with the lowbrow, the ancient with the modern, the serious with the playful.
Creativity lies in the gaps between established ideas.
Unravel your lineage of influences. Be surprised by the patterns you discover, and the unique tapestry they weave in shaping who you are.