Being Geek Chic is a blog about one woman navigating the male-dominated industries of production and tech. It's written by Elizabeth Giorgi, Founder, CEO and Director of Mighteor - one of the world's first internet video production companies. Learn more about Mighteor here.
I should be doing lots of things right now. Currently, there are 47 things on my to do list and it keeps getting longer as I read more emails and catch up after spending the majority of the day at a shoot. But I had an experience this morning that was just too good not to share. And sometimes getting caught up in the moment is the only way to really appreciate it.
Today we interviewed and shot with the world’s first black astronaut. And I didn’t cry. But I did geek out. Hard. I couldn’t stop. I just… kept asking him about being an astronaut in the Apollo era. Any and every question that I could conceive of was thrown his way. And trust me, that’s not the norm. Usually, I like to keep my interviews tight. Get 40 minutes on camera and then let the subject breathe and do some walk and talk footage. But no, I was in it and before I knew it, 90 minutes had passed and I was just inspired.
These days, our retired astronaut makes his living as a professional sculptor. His 30,000 square foot studio in Denver has produced more than 120 monuments across the United States and he’s not stopping any time soon, despite being in his eighties.
So here’s why it hit me so profoundly: I have always felt innately called to do what I do. I didn’t always know it was this exact thing. I really couldn’t have known, because it didn’t exist in this form factor until technology caught up. But for a long time, I worked on the periphery of it, until chance and hard work aligned and I had the right opportunity to pursue it.
However, in all my jobs before this, I worked with complete dedication and passion, trying to achieve success in said field in any way possible as best as I could. And yet, at the end of each day, even though the wins were gratifying, it was never enough. It never gave me a breathe of relief. It never made me feel MORE like myself. It never resonated with my soul.
Today, I finally figured out why thanks to this retired astronaut in Denver.
I was looking at the world’s first black astronaut - a man who had achieved an incredible amount as an engineer - but that’s not who he saw himself as:
“Even when I was an astronaut, I was an artist. I used to sneak off to the ceramics room at the base and make tea cups and plates with all the women.”
He regaled us with funny stories about how his fellow astronauts would ask for plate sets for their mothers for holidays and birthdays. And laughed as he recalled how his life changed when he left NASA and moved to Denver, where he went on to get his MFA and started on a whole new path. There wasn’t regret. There wasn’t a question. Because the path was finally clear for him to take.
There was a moment a few weeks ago when I felt totally confused, because I just sort of knew that I was myself, truly myself, for the first time ever in my life. I looked at my face in the mirror and though nothing was truly different, I knew I was completely different. I was finally being SEEN by others as the person I always saw myself as. I had been at this whole Girl Boss/Video CEO mania thing long enough that the reporter and content creator hats were finally starting to fade and the storyteller I saw myself as was no longer obscured.
As I walked around these incredible sculptures this morning trying to decide what shots to pursue in a place full of beautiful options, I happened upon a halfway completed astronaut, all by his lonesome. Most of the other sculptures had these highly identifiable faces. Their details and wrinkles and personality so evident. But not the astronaut, because the astronaut wore a helmet.
“When I’m designing a piece, I become the person I’m creating. I look in the mirror and I furrow my brow and I imagine a feeling and what it looks like and I capture it in my work.”
Even the most compellingly high profile jobs or identities may not fit some people. And to be happy, to exude joy and see yourself the way you truly are, you must face that while you may be “good” at something or objectively successful, it doesn’t mean you are doing the job you are called to do.
Astronauts wear masks. When they look in the mirror, there is nothing there to see but the reflection of the iconic helmet looking back at you. And there is a distinct and profound beauty in that. But what’s even more incredible in the case of our retired astronaut is that it was only when he took the mask off that he could truly become who he was meant to be.
It’s rare in life that my interests merge so perfectly that it’s undeniable, but that’s what happened when I was asked to direct this documentary short on the sound of climate change.
Two years ago, I worked on the original piece, Song of our Warming Planet, which featured one cellist and one set of overall climate data to bring the sound of our planet’s increasing global temperature to life. For the updated piece, NASA’s Goddard Institute provided data for the four northern regions of the globe, which Daniel Crawford, the original musician, translated into a piece of music for a string quartet.
What’s most astonishing about this piece is the eery way in which it confronts you. It’s nearly impossible to ignore the pain of the first violin as it moves from the 1900s into the 2000s.
So proud of the people that helped to make this happen and can’t thank them enough for being part of the process. And of course, special thanks to the musicians who were total pros and a lot of fun to work with.
Translating data into music is just one way we can use story and media and emotion to help people better understand the science of our earth. I hope we can continue to challenge ourselves to think outside of the normal spectrum of scientific communication and bring more amazing things like this to life.
It’s the holidays! Hooray. Kind of. I have a weird relationship with the month of December. I love Christmas movies. I love the cookies, as well. And I’m a huge fan of decorations. Shopping is tough, though. I love to get the PERFECT gift. And that’s nearly impossible. Unless you have help! Insight!
If you know a girl like me, who is obsessed with the sky and the stars - this is my super secret way of helping you get that gift that is super awesome. How do I know? I own lots of these things. I can’t be lying.
Here are some sure winners for the space loving lady in your life:
I’m not a selfie person. At least not on the regular. Most of the selfies in my life are the result of a particular set of circumstances.
At the time of this particular selfie, I was vague. Life was different from what it was months prior, but I didn’t really expound on it, because I didn’t know what to say. But it was a rather profound moment for me, even if those around me had no idea.
Just four months earlier I had made the decision to drastically change my life. Change my city. Change my lifestyle. Change my perspective. And most importantly, I decided to embrace risk. To take on the crazy projects. The ones I thought I wasn’t important or talented enough to pursue. It’s hard to define what that meant exactly until I had a crew of people at the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs at 4 AM and a dude in an astronaut suit wandering through rocks and stones while I wielded the camera. Oh, and we were promoting a toy.
And while the shoot was hugely gratifying at the time, the resulting video means a lot to me too. It represents the culmination of a lot of change. And it a strange sort of way, it’s the embodiment of what can happen when you are just crazy enough to believe in an idea and your own willingness to work your ass off.
I suppose the point is: fucking, go for it. The idea that your work, your ambition, your life and your creative vision can’t be aligned is silly and driven largely by fear of failure.
Also, toy robots are rad. You can check them out at modrobotics.com
I love my Kindle like a small pet companion who never leaves my side… like an adorable text filled hedgehog. But there’s one kind of book that my Kindle will never be able to complete with: the epic coffee table book.
It’s no wonder Kramer was so enamored. A great coffee table book is like a passport to eyeball drunken wonderment. Here’s five I love so much, I say screw the coffee table and would happily tuck them into bed at night.
This Is Mars: What? This is? Holy shit. NASA’s Rover images are printed in high resolution in what amounts to page after page of astonishing space themed joy. ($64.99)
London Underground Maps: Art, Design and Cartography: The tube is the best networked transportation system in the world, so it’s no wonder it has a rich and beautiful history. But really, it all comes down to maps, people. So many amazing, beautiful maps. ($51.64)
The Wes Anderson Collection: My love of the Wes way is not undocumented here, but this book is a joy because it’s got so many interviews with the master mixed with hand drawn storyboards and doodles which are basically in existence to function as some kind of low level Zoloft for film nerds. ($39.99)
The Art of Movie Storyboards: While we’re on the topic of film, why not spend another minute diving into the amazing artistry of storyboards. There’s nothing quite like seeing a favorite movie through a simple black and white sketch. If you don’t love it, well, I don’t get it. ($30.46)
The Flower Recipe Book: This might strike you as an odd choice. I have literally never spoken of flowers here before. But is there anything more enchanting than a wonderful bouqet? Who doesn’t feel more glamorous whilst in the presence of a lovely collection of blooms? Suddenly, this once foreign, but admirable, concept is a possible skill I can acquire all thanks to this gorgeous guide. ($16.63)
