HTSI guest editor Celine Song on the beauty of inconvenience

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. 

On the morning Jo Ellison asked me to guest-edit this issue, I was thinking deeply about this paradox of my life. I had just been on a call where I had to clearly express my feelings and beliefs, all of which were inconvenient for the project we were discussing. Everyone was empathetic and took my side, but it was clear that I had made our lives massively inconvenient. I found myself wondering: couldn’t I just… forget it? Couldn’t I just let go of these “things I believe in” so that everyone could do their jobs more easily?

After all, which did I love more? Convenience or these things I believed in? Who was I to impose such inconvenience on my respected and kind-hearted colleagues? What was the value of these things I believed in? Were they worth all of this inconvenience?

And, of course, the answer was yes. They were worth it. And the only reason I might think they weren’t is because I, like so many of us, worship convenience. And perhaps this worship is more pernicious than we give it credit for. 

Before I knew it, I found myself talking to Jo about how we should make an issue that worships inconveniences. Mainly as a detox for myself but one which I hoped would be useful to others. 

Wherever we look, countless stores and start-ups and AI companies are offering us the Solution to everything difficult about being a human – as if the POINT of life is to do away with inconvenience. They are trying to sell little ways to sand down the edges of life so that it’s as smooth as a cue ball. 

But being human is fundamentally inconvenient. Our bodies are fragile, host illnesses, age, and break down completely with time. Our minds run around aimlessly, build obstacles for themselves and get distracted. Our hearts build walls when they should be open, and lay themselves bare when they should be protective. These flaws and contradictions – these inconveniences – make us human. 

So what does it mean for a modern person to pursue convenience so relentlessly? Is it our way of pursuing a kind of inhumanity, to feel less human, less flawed and contradictory, and to become more of an efficient machine? Is this good for us? I can’t imagine that it is. This issue is meant to wrestle with all of that, inconvenient though it may be. 

I loved including some of my favourite people in these pages, and being introduced to the others through editing them. What they all have in common is that they are unapologetically themselves, regardless of the narrow doors of identity built by those without an imagination. They make things difficult for themselves, just for the joie de vivre, and push themselves to their own limits, just for fun. They choose the road less travelled – almost not travelled – and speak up on things that others are too afraid or lazy to say. And finally, they work hard, because it’s how they get to earn a right to say: “This is what I believe, even if that’s inconvenient for you.” 

Please enjoy this inconvenient issue of HTSI. I hope it disrupts your day a little with its beauty.