John Bresland

I love to make things.

If I were to list the top-ten best times of my life, they would be occasions of making. The first thing I remember making was a sloppy field of finger-paint, blue on one side and red on the other, with a gradient of bruised purple between the two. It blew my mind that this is what school could be. A place where, every day, you made something. This remains, for me, an ideal.

Over the past decade I have taught writing across multiple platforms—writing for radio, for the screen, and for the page. In my courses, students make stuff. They make experimental films. They make video essays and poems, podcasts, documentary shorts, and also some weird stuff that doesn’t yet have a name.

My courses are often taught in collaboration with the MMLC, a place brimming with makers. This talented crew works hard every day to blur the line between technology and liberal arts, if there be a line at all.