One Frame at a Time with Michele Merlo

Michele Merlo’s work sits at the point where process and obsession quietly overlap. A freelance media designer with over a decade of experience across brands and agencies, his practice isn’t defined by a single medium so much as a compulsion to test ideas before they have time to settle into something safe. From VHS tapes to VR headsets, scanners to thermal printers, each tool is approached less as a solution and more as a trigger—something to fall in love with first, and understand later.

What runs consistently through his work is a belief that nothing functions in isolation. Medium, message, editing, texture, rhythm—each decision compounds the next, building toward a single outcome. Whether that’s nostalgia that tightens in your stomach or energy that leaves you restless at the end of a video, Michele treats emotion as the real measure of success. The visuals are just the delivery system.

In this interview, Michele talks about discovering scanned graphics while living in Hong Kong, his long-standing love for stop-motion and visible imperfection, and why the process itself often decides whether an idea is worth pursuing.

“If the video is meant to convey nostalgia, I want you to feel a burn in your stomach. If the video is meant to pump you up, you should be ready to break everything the moment it ends.”

Amber Weaver: So, scanned graphics, how did you start exploring that medium?

Michel Mero: I was in Hong Kong when I first started working with it. My partner and I had just moved there. She gave me a small thermal printer and a portable scanner, and that instantly sparked my curiosity. I was in a city full of visual language and design I had never encountered before, so I began scanning things around me and printing frames from my videos.

AW: What is it that you like about it so much?

MM: I’ve always loved stop-motion. It’s definitely my favourite technique. Fun fact: I even tried to enrol in an animation school once, but I got rejected. I never gave up though, and I kept going on my own, knowing I could make it happen anyway.

Traditional animation has always fascinated me because I love the precision and dedication it takes to create something almost tangible, something where, when you look at it, you can see “the human Hand.”

AW: We adore how you create mini animations and stories inside your work. What informs your ideas?

MM: It’s a bit strange, but I think about the process. If the process seems interesting enough that I can’t wait to dive in headfirst, then it’s definitely the right path.

For example, one of my latest videos, “Pikachu Around the World,” came from the idea of photographing dozens of frames of Pikachu running around the globe. The thought of carrying hundreds of Pikachu frames with me on my travels and randomly pulling one out to snap a photo against an incredible background… that got me really excited. So that’s how I decide whether or notto make a video. It could be the best idea in the world, but if I don’t get satisfaction from the process, it’s an idea I’ll discard.

AW: And how long does the whole process generally take?

MM: It really depends on how complex the animation is and, above all, how long I want the video to be. For example, my end-of-2025 video: I wanted it to be my longest, so I made 365 frames, one for each day of the year. The entire process took almost 100 hours of work, between selecting the subject, running various tests, printing, scanning, adjusting all the frames, and editing the video.

AW: Wait, Game Boy graphics, we’re sold! Thank you for feeding our ’90s and 2000s souls today. Anything else you want to mention before we wrap this up?

MM: I’ve always loved technology that makes me feel nostalgic. For me, it’s the tech from the late ’90s and early 2000s. It’s the feeling I love most, so I nurture it by exploring, testing, and using old devices that bring back real memories, things I actually lived through, firsthand. That’s why I’m very selective about this kind of media. I can’t feel truly connected to using a 1950s TV, for instance. As fascinating as it might be, it will never make me feel real nostalgia.

Follow more of Michele’s work here.
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