After my story about the sugar factory was a hit, Iris told me to write my next feature on one of the squatting artists, and because I was so drawn to Luke, I decided to write about him. A pretty basic rule of reporting is that you don’t get personally involved with your subject. I liked that rule. I thought it would keep me safe—it would allow me to get closer to Luke while also keeping him at a distance. I wanted that buffer because I knew that Luke, despite his own crazy, futile attempts to store his entire existence on film, would burn through my life like a wildfire. And back then I believed that by not fully living each of my days, I could conserve them, and protect myself somehow. I treated time as a resource that you could spend or save. Perhaps Luke and I weren’t so different.
The morning after I first met Luke in real life, I called Iris and pitched her my new angle. “I’ve found the artist I want to focus on. He’s kind of representative of the sugar factory group.”
“So what’s his name? What’s his work like?”
“Luke Banas. His work is . . . it’s hard to describe.”
“Try.”
“He makes movies, and puts them on his website.”
“Give me an example.”
“Well, he has movies about his life—he records everything he does—and then other movies about whatever he’s thinking about, or—GIFs.” I paused.
“I know what a GIF is, Lila.”
