By Dominick Domingo
The following is an excerpt from Dominick Domingo’s new book Language of the Soul: How Story Became the Means by Which We Transform which explores the mechanics of catharsis, the creative process, the artist’s journey, and the transformative power of narrative and what it is to be a born storyteller:
I was recently asked to present a lecture on storytelling in an online version of the animation convention I’ve been a part of since its inception, 12 years ago. My response was an enthusiastic yes. For one, I was on fire creatively, having just finished a novel I considered my most inspired work to date; I was eager to share my latest discoveries. But more importantly, I felt the event was much needed, in light of the grim climate. The isolation demanded by the Covid-19 pandemic, as well as months of social unrest and political divisiveness had put many in a tailspin. More than ever, we artists needed to continue to inspire one another and remind ourselves why we do what we do. We humans needed to continue to motivate and inspire one another; renewing hope in the face of futility is a daily struggle. We’d been forced into a cultural time-out; it could not have been clearer to me the moment of quiet contemplation was an opportunity to reflect on the thought forms and paradigms that had gotten us into this mess.
When forced lockdown came along, I didn’t bat an eye. As an artist and a writer, I felt blessed to have my craft as catharsis; it went a long way. Even so, as much or more than my writing, I relied on faith to get me through the trying time. Let me explain:
I was born in 1968, at a moment when the world was on fire. A quick Google search will yield that during the year of my birth, both Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated, the Democratic National Convention in Chicago resulted in one of the lowest historical points in police brutality, and many of the Civil Rights demonstrations took place that would result in lasting, institutionalized social reform.
The following year, 1969, brought both Woodstock and the moon landing. History has framed Woodstock as the quintessence of our interconnectedness—the very picture of communion in action. The moon landing exemplifies man’s ever-evolving march toward realizing human potential. Neil Armstrong’s declaration, “one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind” beautifully puts into words the paradigm shifts that yield possibility. Outdated thought forms like man cannot fly regularly dissolve and give way to new, more innovative ones, putting us a bit closer to our human potential. As an added plus, his wording expressed the power of individual accomplishment to impact the whole of humanity.
The seeming disparity of these back-to-back world events can be easily explained: crisis yields opportunity. Strife signals change. It is well known that man transforms through conflict resolution alone. On the microcosmic level, individuals resolve cognitive dissonance by synthesizing opposing thought forms into new, novel ones. On a macrocosmic, or societal level, the status quo prevails until unrest — activism, protest and demonstration, even storytelling and art — upends outdated institutions and paradigms.
In 2020, many have speculated about the meaning of this seemingly unprecedented moment, what cultural shift might be on the horizon. The faith that has sustained me, personally, lies in the understanding that all strife signals transformation, and that man evolves solely through conflict resolution.
Storytelling, by definition, is conflict resolution.
In this way, the part we storytellers play in cultural transformation is beyond measure. Ayn Rand has said that “art is man’s metaphysical mirror.” Art and storytelling reflect back our invisibles — the norms, mores, codes, ethics, principles and beliefs whose evolution is just as crucial to our survival as that of our biology. Stories take the temperature of society at any given time, playing as vital a role as activism or persuasion. You see, it is equally well-known that we learn more in the narrative realm than the didactic. When faced with political persuasion or propaganda, most dig their heels in adamantly, falling back on cherry picking and confirmation bias to reinforce existing beliefs. This is the ultimate in mind- dominance and ego. Storytelling, in contrast to persuasion, appeals to our emotions rather than our intellect. We change minds by touching hearts.
My passion for the role we storytellers play in dialectic is what drove me to agree to the online talk; I took the opportunity to up my game. Not only did I compile recent discoveries in my own process — my relationship with craft — I brushed up on the academic view of story. This is where I hit a wall. Granted, I am too subversive for my own good; the resistance that arose in me while reading up is nothing new: traditionally, I reject any notion of ‘right or wrong’ in art and literature. I am more apt to speak of simple cause and effect— choices. I believe the Creative Process is malleable and am hyper aware of the proprietary spin each ‘expert’ puts on standard, accepted models of it. I am familiar with the infinite variations on the classic western story arc, each with a proprietary twist that makes it brandable. Deepening my resistance, my lifelong knee-jerk rejection of the definitive was in high gear. But more than anything, my resistance was rooted in this:
Ninety percent of the books one can read on the academic view of screenwriting, literary craft, or storytelling in general, are offered as gospel truth with a singular caveat. The unspoken presumption is this: that the goal of ‘good’ or effective writing is commercial success (or bank at the box office/best seller status, as I put it) over literary value. Though mainstream, commercial success and literary value can often be at odds, I don’t think for a moment the two are mutually exclusive: I look to phenomena like The Lion King, my first film at Disney, as evidence the two can align. The film struck a chord with the masses, resulting in box office success and global significance precisely due to its literary value. Its resonant, universal themes spoke profoundly of the human condition. The awkward intersection of art and commerce is as old as time, and I am no stranger to it. In my own ongoing journey with craft, I look to these rare confluences of artistic integrity and commercial success as luminaries, beacons of hope.
For the presentation, I resolved my reticence by arriving at the following premise: one must consider the implied goal when offering any definitive advice on the creative process or storytelling. Only then do the cause and effect behind every choice remotely correlate with right and wrong. Further, I recovered my motivation to share my thoughts on storytelling by honing in on what I was most passionate about imparting: the why part of the equation. Not the nuts and bolts or mechanics of technique, but why we tell stories in the first place!
The virtual audience was to be largely comprised of self-identified storytellers, whether wordsmiths or visual storytellers — each at a different stage of development. In the context of this book, I would argue that the drive to impart narrative is alive in all of us; it’s synonymous with being human. We are all born storytellers with a unique, authentic story to tell. In twenty years of teaching at my alma mater, Art Center, I’ve been privy to many a unique creative process, and just as many relationships with the lifelong artistic journey. I have learned more by witnessing hundreds of students, over twenty years of teaching, than in my own journey or anything I could have read in a book. What I know beyond all else is this: at some point, most artists connect their chosen craft with an authentic voice by assessing what drives them in the first place. Once honed, that voice is then connected with a sense of purpose and the circuit is completed by contributing it to humanity in some way.
Dominick Domingo is a Disney Feature Animation veteran who spent the ‘90s riding the wave of the ‘Animation Renaissance’ in both LA and Paris, painting backgrounds and producing visual development art for The Lion King, Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Tarzan, The Little Match Girl and One By One. In the years since, he founded the entertainment arts track at his alma mater, Art Center, where he amassed twenty-plus years of classroom experience. He continued freelancing for major companies in gaming, feature and TV Animation (both 2D and CG) while developing his own intellectual properties. You can learn more at DominickDomingo.com
