Animondays

Emmy Which Way You Can

2008-05-12T09:52:00.001-07:00

I just had the neat experience of serving on the panel to award Emmys for the individual achievement in animation category for the daytime Emmy. It was a treat to reconnect with fellow panelists such as Dave Palmer, Jason Oliveri, Kari Kim, Tina Moglia, Masako Kanamaya, Lisa Goldman, Stephen Neary, Bob Charde, JoEllyn Marlow, and Biljana Lubovic. It was also an opportunity to make a few new acquaintances; I took an instant liking to Dominie Mahl and Alan Foreman. How lucky are we that there are so many great people in this business? The answer: very, very lucky.

I sat on the sub committee that had to decide on an Emmy for production design. Our group poured over twelve or so entries to search for something that met the prize’s criteria. Production design is how well all the elements weave together. Do the characters pop properly off the backgrounds, while at the same time belonging to the same world? Does each shot read clearly? These are but a couple of the questions we had to ask in order to evaluate the entries. Although some of the productions managed to have successful enough production design, our job was to determine whether or not that meant it was “Emmy worthy.” We felt a responsibility to ensure that the Emmy would mean something.

Such a responsibility makes one think anew about the productions they’ve worked on in the past. In TV animation, each episode gets precious little time on the assembly line and many creative fires are put out along the way. I suppose that an Emmy worthy production wouldn’t show any of those battle scars in the final production. An Emmy for individual achievement in daytime TV animation likely means that this person (and production) went above and beyond the limitations in time and budget to make a truly stellar product. As I tackle my next duties in TV animation, I’ll be reminded of this.

Each committee found that they could tell when the artist was truly inspired by the project or whether they just saw the job as a paycheck. We all noted how stellar preproduction work (including inspirational art, storyboards, layouts, and background keys) had to be at the start due to the inevitable fact that these elements get watered down on the way to the finish line. Perhaps the hardest category to award was the individual achievement for animation. Unfortunately, TV animation is not an animator’s medium. The best productions on TV succeed on the basis of clever writing and sharp design.

The experience serving on this committee reminded me that our work must always stand on its own if its going to considered for excellence. Richard Gorey told my SVA career class, “You are not rewarded for hard work. You are rewarded for outstanding work.” That sounds like the criteria for “Emmy worthy,” to me.

ASIFA-East 39th Animation Festival: REPORT #1

2008-05-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

It’s the day after the big ASIFA-East festival and my thoughts are filled with all the good films and good times from last night. A super big congrats to all the winners and a huge "thank you" to the many folks that tirelessly donated their time to pull this off. In particular, I’d like to give a shout to our jury film list guru Candy Kugel, festival co-chairs: Nancy Lennert and Linda Simensky, Celia Bullwinkle for making the opening film, Cliff Galbraith and Justin Simonich and Dayna Gonzalez and Mark Bailey and Adrian Urquidez for spreading the word about the festival, Cartoon Network and Michael Grover for sponsoring the party, Linda Beck and Jennifer Oxley for planning the party, and our welcoming host; Parsons School of Design and Anezka Sebek. Check in with our website, www.asifaeast.com, this week to see the full list of winners.

Our apologies for not having time to screen the two honorable mentions in the student category, which were; Michael Langan’s “Doxology,” and Joy & Noelle Vaccese’s “The Scritch-Scratch of Busy Little Hands.”

There’s a lot of film’s I’d like to discuss in subsequent postings, but I’m eager to first offer some comments on Fran and Will Krause’s Cartoon Network short, “The Upstate Four,” and Pen Ward’s Frederator/Nickelodeon short, “Adventure Time.” It was a treat to see these films play nearly back-to-back in the festival because they represent the hope that still remains in sponsored TV product.

Fran and Will’s short was a virtual follow up in theme and tone to their previous Cartoon Network short, “Utica Cartoon” (2002). Both their shorts open with characters engaged in game play, have plots that center on obsessive eating, and feature bizarre casts of human, animal, and surreal characters. The six years have been good to the Krause brothers and they have emerged with an even stronger point of view than before. Part of their growth was letting go some control and it was to their benefit to bring in strong support in voice talent and sound design. “The Upstate Four” races along at a break neck pace, with main character Mary not even having time to properly mount and ride her bicycle to the big finish. The film frequently goes places other TV cartoons would not even think to tread. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw a character with a tombstone for a head play checkers or a furry snack scout that, when angry, transforms into a cross hatched pen & ink R. Crumb-like design.

Pen Ward’s “Adventure Time,” might seem like a celebratory parody of adventure story clichés, but it is so much more and so much less at the same time (and I mean both in a good way). The real theme of the film is innocence. One usually thinks of Mr. Warburton’s Code Name: Kids Next Door as being the best example of writing for a kid audience. Still, KND (by its own cleverness) seems very much organized with an adult’s logic. In contrast, Pen Ward is truly floating in outer space. “Adventure Time,” only sprinkles on just enough plot to set their characters into action and relishes in spending all of its energy on character. Design wise, never have I seen such an uncluttered TV pilot, and the characters are so basic and simply drawn that they might be mistaken for preschool if they weren’t so distinctly odd. “Adventure Time,” is unconventional in just about every way.

Taken together, “The Upstate Four” and “Adventure Time” show that there are great things to be done in sponsored film and I give both Cartoon Network and Frederator/Nickelodeon three cheers for recognizing the merits of these filmmakers and letting them lose to make some wonderful cartoons.

To Hubris and Beyond

2008-04-28T06:16:00.000-07:00

I’m a sucker for the formative years of movements in art, music, or animation. This is when the pioneers built an art or an industry virtually from scratch. Without a road map, their only guide was a drive to move forward and defy the odds. This is part of what makes early Disney fascinating to me. The Disney studio, arguably between the years 1928 and 1942, made art that happened to be commerce. In that span of time, many theatrical shorts, along with all five features, helped to push the envelope, laying down a foundation of rules for everyone else to follow, bend, and break, all the way to the present day.

Starting in 1942 you get the War years, which changed the economical model and direction of the studio. From then on, the Walt Disney company became a studio that does animation, but, was no longer creatively defining animation. Others had to take up that baton and the continuing growth of animation still resides outside of the Disney walls at present time. The magic is not in what Disney has created post WW 2, but more about how much good will they had in the bank to keep the audiences interested in their ever diminishing returns. After a certain point, people paid to see the Disney brand, not the Disney films, and if that’s not creative death, I don’t know what is.

Last week the Starz channel ran the TV premiere of Leslie Iwerks' documentary, The Pixar Story. Few people would deny that Pixar has made the best-crafted films of the 3D animation era. With Pixar's formative years, you get that same spirit as the early days of the Walt Disney studio. Happily, Iwerk’s documentary shows that Pixar continues to be a creatively restless organization, eager to go new places with their films, while, at the same time, seeking to pay homage to mother 2D (Pixar has two 2D features in production right now).

There’s a poignant moment in The Pixar Story where folks such as John Lasseter react to media headlines showing that 3D animation has triumphed over 2D. Pixar was heartbroken at that thought. After all, they LOVED 2D and built their studio’s films with the best of 2D as their model. While their heart was in the right place, it also shows tremendous hubris. For them to take such media headlines to heart means they really believe they have the power to kill 2D and feared that they might have already done so. It also shows that the Pixar mentality is not unlike the worst aspects of Hollywood thinking in that it imagines it IS the animation industry and that NOTHING important happens outside of it. There's also the attitude that feature films are the industry. The thought is, If 2D animation is dead in the theatrical Hollywood cartoon, then it is dead period. That’s how these minds think. It’s no matter that 2D animation continues to bloom on TV, the internet, at festivals, and in a new slate of indy animated features (many of which are emerging from New York).

I don’t really believe Pixar and its artists feel this way. I have to believe that they ARE aware of art being made outside their castle walls. They ought to know this, because as Iwerks documentary shows, at one time, they were the renegade outsiders, making art and building an industry, where there was none.

Basking in Bakshi

2008-04-20T08:08:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege of attending the SVA event with Ralph Bakshi to celebrate the release of Unfiltered, a book written by Jon M. Gibson & Chris McDonnell, chronicling fifty years (and counting) of one of the most important animation filmmakers of all time. At the start of the same week everyone was busy kneeling at the altar of Ollie Johnston, the last surviving of Disney’s fabled 9 Old Men that passed away on Monday. The industry celebrated Johnston’s life with one glowing eulogy after another. The closest thing I read to a critical examination on Johnston came from Michael Barrier and Mark Mayerson who posted essays questioning the meaning and influence of The 9 Old Men. In summary, they suggest that 9 Old Men were designated as such not just for their animation excellence, but also because of their loyalty to Walt, especially during the strike of 1941. Early in their career, the 9 Old Men stood on the shoulders of giants such as Fred Moore, Bill Tytla, Art Babbit, and Norm Ferguson (to name but a few) and these are the names that defined a medium. Nobody can deny that the passing of Ollie Johnston is the end of an era. I totally understand and appreciate what that means to this community.

On the other hand, any on-line post about Ralph Bakshi is going to attract more criticism and outright hatred than it will praise. Over his nine feature films, Ralph did the unthinkable, and to a large segment of the animation community; the unforgivable. By sheer force of will, he dragged animation out of the realm of G-rated family fare, and brought animation into the modern era. The fact that Ralph still irks the conservatives in our business over forty years after Fritz the Cat says a lot about this unique man and his work. With SO much criticism, the importance of Ralph’s work makes itself clear. Why so much praise for Ollie Johnston, a man among nine and a righteous keeper of the status quo, and why so much criticism of Ralph Bakshi for being a maverick, an individual, and having the audacity to do something new? Criticism tells us something important; Ralph Bakshi, is the more important artist.

Are Ralph’s films perfect? Hell no. They are sometimes sloppy, incoherent, or even downright unsatisfying. In other words, they are crackling with life, energy, and spontaneity. Any animation artist today that yearns to be a filmmaker doing important work should realize Ralph Bakshi for what he is; the roadmap to individual expression and achievement in a medium that, by its very nature, so often dilutes individuality to render all its artists anonymous. You don’t have to like Bakshi’s films to get the message. Unfortunately, all too many in this animation community, not only want to throw out the message but, also the messenger. I truly don’t get it. Why should artists worship the status quo? How can we be artists if we do that? I don’t suggest not appreciating the 9 Old Men or their illustrious peers and predecessors, but it might help to recognize that their achievement was a technical one, albeit something that breathed life, emotion and reality into this medium. A filmmaker such as Ralph Bakshi dared to focus on subject, and drag animation to new places such as urban decay, sex (instead of fairy tale romance), and volatile race relations. Come to think of it, I have a criticism for Ralph too: I wish he’d been able to make even more than 9 feature films.

Do yourself a favor and watch Fritz the Cat and Heavy Traffic, which are both readily available on DVD. Then, pick up the baton and carry the spirit of Ralph’s work to the next level. Maybe even sprinkle a little Ollie Johnston in there for good measure. A spoonful of sugar might help the medicine go down.

Reducing the Lazy Factor in an Independent Film

2008-04-13T15:43:00.000-07:00

One of the burdens of this age of limited animation is an automatic tendency to split characters into levels, animating only bits and pieces of a character while the rest of the character holds. Don’t get me wrong, I think full animation carries its own curse (where nothing ever stops moving. Think Rock-a-Doodle). Somewhere, there should be a happy medium. Its important to note, in this age of flash-bashing, that held animation levels were invented long before there was flash. Cell animation pioneered this factory friendly technique over eighty years ago. Flash or no flash, animators, particularly those making independent films, have to make a conscious effort to not automatically slick-ify their production values to the point of making a product undistinguishable from the latest show on Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon.

Flash or After Effects lets us make films in our living room sans paper, cells, and especially a clunky expensive Oxberry camera. My latest film, Good Morning, cost me next to nothing to make, while my film from ten years ago, Snow Business, cost 10,000 bucks! However, while these programs allow one to make a film without the prohibitive steps and cost of yesterday, they also tempt us into taking shortcuts that compromise our creative vision. Flash and After Effects encourage animators to “puppet” their characters to limit the amount of new art that needs to be created. Puppeting is just today’s version of limited animation. If Flash puppeting had been available in 1959, it would have been used to animate the limited animation classic Rocky and Bullwinkle.

Still, the shame of Flash or After Effects in the hands of the independent animator is that it lets one so easily sink into limited animation doldrums. While such a production style would be understandable in a TV product where deadlines and budget is tight, it doesn’t make sense for the independent animator to embrace such limitations unless they would best do the project justice. Most of the time, we animators take these shortcuts out of laziness or restlessness to get the end product as soon as possible. Instead, we ought to be making the appropriate choice of animation styling, whatever that might be, so that our projects might reach their full potential.

Anyone who’s worked in Flash or After Effects has to know that the programs themselves should not be blamed. Both programs allow the artist to the replicate hand drawn animation techniques of yesterday, with none of the drawbacks of past production. I’m currently working on a new film, Owl and Rabbit Play Checkers. The original character art (NOT shown here) was created in a flat flash friendly style, using Illustrator, back in 2004. When I made the decision to animate this film in 2008, I opted for a much warmer hand drawn feeling (see above). The new styling was achieved by drawing directly into a wacom tablet in the same technique I used for my film Good Morning. I’m not puppeting my animation. I’m drawing every frame, even though sometimes I may time the drawings on 3s or 4s. The result is very expressive and lets me really get into the acting. This is all the more important because this is a two character film and the success of it all depends on really establishing the differences between these characters.

As for laziness? I suffer from that as much as any animator…but, I’ve figured out a way to make handrawn animation work for me in just as quick a manner as puppeted animation. The secret is not such a secret. This technique allows me to animate with a finished line. There’s no going back to pencil drawings later and cleaning them up to find the polished ink line. I’m not worrying about that. If lines get a little loose or intersect that's okay. This may sound lazy (and maybe it is), but the result is full of life and all the happy accidents that can only come from the human touch. There’s no scanning, because I’m drawing directly into photoshop. The color technique I’m using is also fast and direct, coloring loosely in photoshop with a simulated crayon brush. I don’t need my animation to look like Cartoon Network. When Cartoon Network pays me to make a pilot for them, then, I’ll worry about that problem. For now, I’m making an independent film, and I find half the fun is discovering and slaying whatever obstacles might be in the way so that, in the end, the film wins.

Make Mine Assy McGee

2008-04-07T05:28:00.000-07:00

Assy McGee, a show that I’ve been directing for the last year, premiered on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim on Sunday 12:30 AM, on Sunday April 6. It was my first foray into directing for an “adult” audience, after a career mostly spent in children’s/preschool projects. It was a welcome change and the more cinematic attributes of older programming have already begun to influence my sensibility on a new independent children’s film I’m working on (more on that in a subsequent post.)

TV animation gets a bum rap from just about everybody. It is usually measured against what was lost, while I would argue it should instead receive credit for what it preserved. It kept industry alive, allowing decades worth of animation artists to earn a living in their occupation of choice. Yes, TV animation is a different model than what came before. There’s a greater reliance on scripts and soundtracks over the demands of animation, which by sheer cost, is always kept at a minimum. Still, who among us would deny the importance of script (or story) and soundtrack in any successful animation made in the last 75 years? To criticize TV animation for its dependence on strong scripts and soundtracks is akin to criticizing trees for having leaves.

It’s hard for me to think of Assy McGee without comparing it to MTV’s Friday (which, was a short lived 8 episode animated series produced in NY in 2006-2007). Here’s how MTV got it wrong with Friday and Adult Swim got it right with Assy McGee. Note: I don’t doubt MTV’s ability to find success anew in animation, and I certainly hope they do.

MTV Friday’s:
Step one:
Green light a show based on (semi-popular) series of movies. This will automatically give the show urban edge and recogniziblity in the marketplace. Right?

Step two:
Ensure failure by making the show a soulless creator-less venture, a product of committee.

Step three:
Hire an amazing crew of artists and production personale.

Step four:
Second-guess every stage of production. Re-write episodes. Re-record actors. Make committee changes that weaken the product with every passing minute.

Step five:
The amazing crew of artists and production staff work tirelessly to salvage the show.

Step six:
The network cancels the show after airing only a small handful of episodes. Project over. Pretend the whole thing never happened in the first place.

Assy McGee
Step one:
Start with a quirky creator-driven show co-created by Carl W. Adams and H. Jon Benjamin, and a head writer/executive producer Matt Harrigan.

Step two:
Write scripts that actually start out funny. Make changes that make it even funnier. Repeat during the whole production process.

Step three:
Record excellent actors that take said script and plus it ten-fold by improvising new material and embellishing the rest.

Step four:
Hire a crew of amazing artists and production personale. Working as the NY crew, we had animators: Justin Simonich, Dagan Moriarty, Danielle Keenan, Adam Rosette, Meredith Gran, and Mira Scharf. Background design by Adrian Urquidez and Bob Levy (my dad! See BG image above). Character design by Jason McDonald. Add to this group incredibly talented artists and production staff in Watertown, MA, including; creative director Andre Lyman, business manager Carrie Snyder, producer Julia King, Bob Keough (storyboards/animatics), Matt Durso and Cara FitzGibbon (storyboards & animation revision), Adam Swanson (additional props/character/bg design), audio editor Abe Stein, and editor and visual effects Vanessa Pyne.

Step five:
Encourage creative contributions from every member of the crew.

Step six:
Air the show to a major advertising campaign, including official sponsorship by Toyota’s Scion. Toy line on its way. There’s going to be an Assy McGee bank. Guess where the coin goes?

Coda:
Is Assy McGee a perfect show that will please everyone? Nope. And, nor is it trying to be. Creatively, Assy McGee teeters the balance between coherence and utter incomprehensibility. That’s a pretty powerful mojo to power any work of art or piece of commerce. I would argue that unlike a product made by committee, Assy McGee has something that is rarely associated with TV product: spontaneity.

Missed the premiere? Watch the episode now at: http://www.adultswim.com/video/index.html

Make Your Own Luck

2008-04-01T05:12:00.000-07:00

I recently began a new chapter of my career as a TV animation writer for scripts and development. I don’t venture to guess how much this might come to dominate my career. I’m still directing series, making films, teaching, etc. However new I might be to development and script writing, I find I’m turning to some old tricks to make it work. My first strategy is making creative time during captive time. By captive time, I mean time spent traveling; sitting on the subway, and (at the moment) sitting on a plane during a return trip from Arizona. Instead of tuning out with my ipod, I write in my journal, jot notes on a script, and scribble thoughts on post-its.

My father, Bob Levy, was the art director who single-handedly conjured up the long running series of Crest toothpaste cavity creeps (“we make holes in teeth) campaign (see image above.) While I was growing up, my Dad still had his original conceptual drawings for the series stuck to his home-office walls. My Dad is my industry hero because of his seemingly supernatural ability to brainstorm ideas and solve creative problems. He believes in letting the ideas flow out without stopping to judge them or edit them in any way. The point is to get them down on paper first. Later, he’ll sift through a pile and start picking out the key ideas, the ones that stick. Chuck Jones called his writing meetings with key collaborators like Mike Maltese, “yes sessions.” But, I think it’s important to bring that same yes-energy even when creating on your own. Perhaps even more so.

Writing to order is a really fun challenge. When I write for my own films or pitch projects I can indulge in a relatively full creative freedom. Writing on assignment is about bringing your own sensibility to the table to help birth something else for someone else. I think when it’s done right, it need not lack a personal touch or genuine inspiration. John Lennon wrote “A Hard Day’s Night” as an assignment. Ringo Starr had coined the phrase and the Producers chose it for the title of The Beatles all-important first film. The song Lennon dreamed up captured the true spirit of the band at that exact moment in their development. It was honest, real, while still being made to order.

I owe this writing stage of my career partly to pitching. To pitch is to try to prove how a project is both personal to its creator and at the same time universal in the market place.

Tom Warburton, creator of Cartoon Network’s Code Name Kids Next Door has only pitched 4 times in his life. He’s been successful four out of four times, scoring pilots, series deals, development deals, and most recently a children’s book. That’s a unique kind of success. If I measured my pitching and development career by that marker, I’d be a failure ten times over (ten times representing ten years of pitching without success.) But, then again, what is success? In this business we define our own success. Creating and pitching shows has helped land me 3 directing gigs to date as well as two new jobs as a writer. Over my ten, often frustrating years pitching and missing, I would fantasize that if development executives didn’t buy my ideas, maybe they would engage me as a writer or developer on their own projects. It never happened. Until, one day it did.

The key is to do what you need to do when you need to do it. Make yourself ready for opportunities imagined or unimagined. In a recent lecture to my career class, Tom Warburton advised my students to, “make your own luck.” Despite our very different levels of success, I believe Mr. Warburton and I are talking about the very same thing.

Teacher Comforts

2008-03-24T10:00:00.000-07:00

I recently heard about an animation teacher’s meeting in one of the NY area schools. For several years in row, the problem (as explained by the administration), has been that the grades are too high and the quality of the student’s work, too low.

As for grades, no doubt there are some animation teachers that grade far too gently. Such a policy may be a sign of general laziness in teaching. For instance, a teacher that passes everyone won’t have defend a failing grade. If everyone passes, there are no confrontations. No confrontations mean less work and aggravation for the teacher.

As for the quality of the student’s work? I’ve always believed that students that needed school the least made the best students. Just below them are the students that struggle and work their ass off just to scratch out a few successful moments of animation. I belonged to that group. Below that group are the lazy masses of students yearning to be left alone. This group went to art school to escape rules and discipline. For them, school is supposed to be a utopian paradise filled with freedoms, while at the same time owing them a quality education.

Teachers have a choice to either allow the student majority to wallow in that malaise or to shake things up. Again, it’s much easier to just attempt to teach the students that seem to give a damn and ignore the rest. By engaging the students this way, year after year, the teacher is part of the problem, part of the status quo that prevents the school’s program from really teaching the students.

Teachers are not supposed to be best friends with their students. Confrontation is important. Part of a teacher’s job is to rattle the student’s into discovering their enthusiasm. A teacher should set the expectations incredibly high for both quality and quantity of work. Students should not be allowed to move on until they master each stage or lesson. When I’ve taught “Intro to Animation” and “Action Analysis,” students had to make changes/revisions to their work week after week, sometimes extending assignments a month later than was originally planned. All the while these students had to simultaneously keep up with the new weekly assignments. Work compounded on some students, but all improved dramatically by the time of the semester’s end.

During the difficult semester, some students had been close to tears or were otherwise noticeably frustrated. That’s okay. A teacher has to push their class. It’s not enough to give an assignment and then, the following week, express disappointment that the class didn’t work hard enough. That’s not teaching. That’s participating in a passive aggressive war. A class needs a challenging teacher that provides a structure and opportunity that does not exist anywhere else.

"TIME!"

2008-03-16T10:38:00.001-07:00

On March 11, ASIFA-East held a jury screening for the student category of our 39th annual animation festival. At our festival, the entire community of ASIFA-East members (that come out to vote) make up the jury. Not only does this make our festival the most democratic and fair animation festival in the world, it’s also the only one that opens up its selection process to the general public. Perhaps, most notably of all, there are often a handful of the filmmakers present, suffering through a special kind of hell that only a filmmaker in competition can understand.

The first reality we dealt with at our student jury screening was that we were at least a half hour shy of enough time to watch every single entry all the way through. Even with such a restriction, we were still committed to watching over 2 and 1/2 hours of student films. Perhaps most positively, the films we stop prematurely will let us watch the more worthy films all the way through and keep the audience from getting overly fatigued. Still, it’s hard to NOT to think of your film being stopped as a traumatic event. In total, we called time on 7 films this evening. More than once there were murmurs in the audience reflecting a dissenting opinion. At ASIFA-East, we require one person to motion stopping a film (by shouting out, “TIME”) and then at least one more individual coming forward to second that motion. Instead of that scenario, usually the first uttered “time,” unleashes an echo of support from dozens of jurists too shy to have spoken first. We have our consensus, the film is halted, we vote, and we move on.

The good news is that, over the years, several films that have been stopped early have gone on to win a prize at our festival. If we stop a film, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the whole audience hates the film. It does mean that the jury has seen enough of the film so to evaluate it on the ballots.

At the end of the screening, one ASIFA-East jurist came up to me and said that it was a shame to stop any films early because for some of these filmmakers it might be the only chance to get their film screened. I see that point. However, we proudly offer one open screening per year in which everyone may present a film in a safe, supportive and non-competitive atmosphere. When it comes to our jury screenings, we’re supposed to be critical, separating the wheat from the chaff. If any filmmakers feel that they were denied their one chance at a screening, I would offer that they should make more films, better films, and spend more energy towards getting them screened and into festivals.

At a jury screening, films must quickly earn even their first few seconds of screen time. I personally begin to watch each film with a middle average score in my head and what I first see and hear immediately starts accumulating points positive or negative. Production values, quality of craft, ability to convey an idea or technique, all come across in those first few seconds. In this generation of youtube living room animators cranking out films, we filmmakers entering films at the ASIFA-East festival and squirming through a critical screening of our own film have an opportunity to learn and grow from the audience response that is virtually unparalleled anywhere else.

As democratic as we are, I don’t always personally agree we every film we honor or deny (nor should I.) We are a community of voices choosing what makes it into our festival. I can’t help but recall a jury screening two years ago that included John Canemaker’s “The Moon and the Sun,” (pictured above). The very personal film played all the way through to it’s half hour conclusion without the audience calling time, but clearly some in the audience might have wished too, which I find very perplexing and disheartening. “The Moon and the Sun” didn't place at the festival that year, but went on to win the academy award for best short subject at the 2006 Academy Awards ceremony. No single jury’s taste, however how big the jury, represents the final word on a film or a filmmaker.

How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Kids Films

2008-03-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend, my film, Good Morning, was featured at the BAMKids festival. This festival, now going on 10 years, is an offshoot of the Chicago International Children’s Film Festival. My little film (clocking in at barely over a minute), played to four sold-out screenings spread over the weekend. Each screening was followed by a Q and A, featuring Bob Charde (Good Morning’s composer), and my ol’ Nickelodeon-era animation pals Jen Oxley and Eric Weil, whose film, “Janie and Jerome in “Light’s Out,” was also featured.

The children’s film festival circuit is a curious affair. First off, it’s amazing to have your film shown to an audience anywhere. The curious part is when you realize the audience is mostly young parents with tiny tots in tow. Try saying that five times. Lurking among the family audience are a handful of industry people, including some network development executives and other international festival directors.

Are there bad films at the children’s film festivals? Sure. Same as Ottawa. At Ottawa the bad films will likely be independent films that are overlong, random, or seemingly pointless. But, an independent film doesn’t have to please you; it can simply just BE. The independent film, may be a narrative, might have a concept or characters or story, but it need NOT to be successful. The independent film has the choice of following any or none of the rules of storytelling. The one rule is, “there are no rules.”

No rules always seemed like a trap to me. I like creative rules on which to build a film’s structure; something that I can push up against or break through at will. Maybe this is why I respond to children’s films or why I have utmost respect for the medium. A great children’s film transcends the label, “children’s film,” and simply stands as great film, period. Immediately coming to mind is Gil Alkabetz “A Sunny Day,” (see picture above. The film's craft is near perfection; great concept & story, great timing/posing/animation, imaginative layouts/continuity, attractive design/color styling, tight pacing/storytelling, bursting with charm/humor, and featuring a killer score/sound design. For more on this film/filmmaker, go to: www.sunny.alkabetz.com

We all know animation is a stepchild to the larger film and entertainment industry. Yet, within this stepchild are other subdivisions. All too many of them are self-imposed. One obvious stepchild is the respectability (or lack of) in the area of children’s films. It ain’t never been cool to make films for kids. How ironic that unlike any other genre of independent animated film, only the “children’s film” has the potential to reach everybody in the audience.

Report from NYICFF

2008-03-03T07:55:00.000-08:00

It’s been called the Tribeca of Children’s Film Festivals, and after spending a weekend at The New York International Children’s Film Festival (NYICFF), I’m inclined to agree. I was blown away by the sold out screenings, lines of people down the block (hoping to purchase a ticket) and the amazingly attentive audience comprised of mostly parents with young children.

I’m getting to be a bit of a festival hound and it’s fun to be able to compare and contrast the festivals. Most indy animators make films with one eye on Annecy or Ottawa. These are the sexy festivals with a large concentration of filmmakers and industry execs in attendance. In fact, many who attend these aforementioned festivals go more for the social mixing than they do for the screenings. The emphasis is on networking. At a festival such as NYICFF, the equation is flipped on it’s ear. At NYICFF, it’s about the films. Maybe I’m a little out of step, but that’s a pretty sexy idea to me.

Here’s how NYICFF describes itself (posted at www.gkids.com):
"NYICFF was founded in 1997 to promote intelligent, passionate, provocative cinematic works for ages 3-18 and to help define a more compelling film for kids. Since its launch, the event has grown to become the largest festival for children and teens in North America, with a paid audience of over 20,000 attending the most recent event. Since 2000, all screenings have sold out in advance.

Each year NYICFF presents a highly selective slate of the best animation, live action, documentary and experimental film from around the world. The next annual, city-wide festival will take place March 2008. The three week festival will present 100 new films in competition plus gala premieres, retrospectives, filmmaker Q&As. workshops, receptions, and the NYICFF Awards Ceremony. NYICFF also presents screenings and premieres throughout the year at the IFC Center and other locations."

Before I contrast NYICFF with Ottawa or Annecy I should point out that there were several indy heavy hitters represented this past weekend. NY’s PES had “Dogs of War” and “Game Over.” Russia’s Konstantin Bronzit had “Lavatory-Love Story.”
Also featured were, Georges Schwizgebe’s “Jeu,” Claude Clouteir’s “Sleeping Betty” (see image above!), and my favorite film, Oleg Uzinov’s “Zhiharka.” I’m happy to add that my film, “Good Morning,” was also in the mix, but I figured you might have guessed that already. Note: You can watch Good Morning by visiting: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yUV4DJGvRc My amazing composer, Bob Charde, was kind enough to make this link. Thanks, Bob!

I understand that “film selection-wise,” a festival such as Ottawa looks to serve an undernourished need. Through the guidance of Chris Robinson, you get a lot of experimental films, and the narrative films tend to be abstract or non-linear. After five days of Ottawa screenings I find myself yearning for something a bit more satisfying and my cravings are usually satisfied by Ottawa’s films for children category. However, Ottawa can only program one such screening, and they are surprisingly conservative when picking children’s films. In contrast, NYICFF, is able to offer children’s films, sometimes so bold, that they blur the line, erasing the definition of what it might mean to be a children’s film. Over the weekend, I watched films with themes on homosexuality (“Donkey Girl”), eating disorders (“Ice Floe”), as well as one hell of a grown up take on dance competitions in Australia (“Razzle Dazzle”).

As I watched the range of these so-called, “kids films,” I couldn’t help but think that Pat Smith, Bill Plympton, and Andy and Carolyn London (among many other top indys) often produce films that would play well at this festival. There was another phenomenon that should not go unreported. My film played in the same category as Mo Willem’s “Knuffle Bunny,” which was directed by Maciek Albrecht. Before the films even played, the audience was abuzz with parent’s whispering, “Knuffle Bunny” to each other. Mo has found incredible success with today’s parents and children with his wonderful run of children’s books. I, for one, appreciate that Mo helps show how children’s films can be hip and cool, while at the same time satisfying a general audience.

The lesson here is that NYICFF is redefining what might be considered a children’s film. Isn’t it about time us filmmaker’s followed suit?

Comparison: Job-to-job vrs. Career

2008-02-25T07:33:00.000-08:00

Forgive me another post on careers in animation. I just attended a great career panel hosted by The School of Visual Arts office of Career Development, where the emphasis was on getting your first break into the industry. In other words: how to land a job. The audience, composed mostly of students, asked lots of questions about reels and portfolios. Panelists, including Al Pardo, Phil Rynda, Mike Carlo, and Rick Lacy, reported on their first five years in the industry. They showcased killer reels and offered realistic advice. I left the event pondering the difference between a career in animation and a job-to-job existence in animation, which is really the next topic once you cover the “how to get a job,” business.

The job-to-job existence.
Most people won’t readily admit to having chosen this path. It’s sort of the default category for most people. There are lots of amazingly talented people that excel to the top of their craft, working job-to-job. These might be animators, designers, storyboard artists, etc. Like most animation artists, this group survives on their skills and reputation. Word of mouth is how we most often find work in this unique industry. The well skilled job-to-job worker who takes time to safeguard their reputation can look forward to lots of employment over the course of a lifetime. Animation productions need a large pool of this mercenary gypsy workforce. These are the first people contacted when it’s time to staff a show or project.

The only problem I can see with this existence is how vulnerable it makes one to the changing economy. In good times, they’ll be work, and in lean times, it’s less certain. Of course, this factor affects any one’s stability, even a career minded person. The difference is that the job-to-job worker lives at the mercy of this factor. The job-to-job worker does not create opportunities for themselves. Perhaps most troubling is what happens to the job-to-job worker as they age. Opportunities and salaries will eventually plateau. An animation artist can only earn so much, even on the best paying projects. Eventually, a ceiling is reached, and this could happen in as short as five years in the business. As we age, our needs change. We may some day want families and homes. The cost of life continuously rises while the job-to-job worker’s long-term salary will likely not keep up. Further complicating the matter are the students that flood out of the schools each year. Without the burden of responsibilities, recent students work longer hours and for less money than the older job-to-job worker. Over the long haul, the job-to-job worker’s future becomes less and less certain. Eventually opportunities diminish, not grow. Time is not on their side.

The Career minded existence.
The kinships shared between both the career minded and the job-to-job worker are in the area of craft and reputation. The career minded person is also likely to be effected by the economy in this peculiar industry. And, both groups will find themselves bouncing around from job-to-job, studio-to-studio, following the work. However, the career minded individual has a plan by which they can evaluate each opportunity that goes beyond which job is the longest or the best paying. The career minded person might decide to work on a shorter job for less pay if it provides an experience such as learning a new program, a chance to work on something for a different audience, or an opportunity to work in a new technique or style. Money is not the only compass when choosing work, if you are a career minded person.

While establishing their reputation and mastering their craft (just like the job-to-job worker), the career minded person will also begin to create opportunities for themselves. Self-initiated projects are the rule of thumb here. It could be writing scripts, preparing pitches, making independent films, creating fine art, etc. All creative endeavors have the potential to open doors to future opportunity. Outside projects also help one advance on the job, helping one to become a director or department supervisor. Ultimately, the goal of the career minded person is to make an individual mark in their field of choice. Some career-minded people form their own animation studios, taking destiny into their own hands. Career minded people are also a the mercy of the eventual salary plateau, but all their self initiated projects can help to create a multi-income stream that allow them to not depend on each job having to pay an ever-greater salary. The career minded person puts fate into his or her own hands.

Perhaps the best, most simplest way to explain the difference between a job-to-job existence and the career minded is that a job-to-job worker separates their work from their life, while a career minded individual’s quality of life is enriched by their work, with the two becoming blended together in ways that can be very satisfying.

The Good, the Bad, and the Appealingly Ugly: 3 Types of Modern Animation Design

2008-02-17T17:31:00.000-08:00

Design is not a topic I often write about. Yet, from my humble vantage point, I notice three camps of design in the world of modern animation. I’m speaking purely on character design, by the way. ASIFA-East just had the pleasure of screening the 2007 Best of Ottawa program and some of it’s contents seamed to back up this argument: The three types of character design in modern animation are: appealing, grotesque, and appealingly (or beautifully) grotesque. Each design type listed below is illustrated by an example from the 2007 Best of Ottawa program. Please note: no disrespect is intended towards the films or filmmakers.

1. Appealing Design: “John and Karen,” directed by Mathew Walker.

While seemingly unconventionally-appealing in design, Walker’s design represents a rapidly growing school of design that can almost now be called conventional. It’s a simple design, rooted in classic appeal but, with just enough modern quirks to give it a little edge. In short, small facial features and wide-set eyes working hard to off-set what are essential cute characters. Think of this as today’s version of Preston Blair’s guide to drawing cute or appealing characters. Animators working in this style tend to have a lot of fun moving their characters around in interesting ways. The simplicity of the design almost begs the animator to do so, not only to communicate a particular action, but also to generate visual interest in the action itself. Also, going hand-in-hand with this design aesthetic seems to be playfulness in story construction, maybe revealing an attempt to overcompensate for the simplistic graphics. The results often make for interesting filmmaking and are a breath of fresh air against the many formulas in modern 2D & 3D mainstream animation. This movement’s artists often blend both mainstream and independent careers: Fran and Will Krause, Sean McBride, Pen Ward, Mike Overbeck, David Chai, Tim Rauch, among others.

2. Grotesque Design: “Milk Teeth,” directed by Tibor Banozcki.
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Filmmaker’s working in grotesque design styles try to repel the audience from their creations while at the same time pulling them in. It’s a big risk and requires a greater reliance on story and soundtrack to overcome the grotesque liability. Too often, films in this category are more obtuse then brilliant and only succeed in creating a mood experience. On one hand, grotesque design can seem all the more authentic and sincere in an independent film because this design style is decidedly un-commercial. However, since films like “Milk Teeth” are tailor made to play well at film festivals, perhaps they are commercial creations within the confines of the festival world. These are good ponies to bet on at a typical animation festival, whether or not the films themselves have any merit. Grotesque Design seems to have it’s roots in European art and seems all the more alien to these American eyes. I’m reminded of the message in many classic RKO films from producer Val Letwon: Americans don’t know how to grieve. In short, as a people, we haven’t suffered the way Europe has suffered over the centuries. Grotesque design is filled with the potentially rich cocktail of misery, grief, loneliness, and isolation. This movement’s artists are these darlings of the independent film festival circuit: JJ. Villard, Signe Baumane, Priit Parn, Igor Kovalyov, Phil Mulloy, Marv Newland, among others.

3. Appealingly Grotesque Design: “The Waif of Persephone,” directed by Nick Cross.

Filmmaker’s working in appealing grotesque design styles try to take the best of both worlds of design and stitch them together. Nick Cross’s film is a great one to analyze because it does this movement credit in showing that perhaps it takes a master to find the beauty in ugliness, and vice versa. “The Waif of Persephone” also shows an advanced filmic sensibility that goes far beyond the typical cartoon form. Drawing and composition seems be the most important asset in a film such as this. Here, the director even has the confidence to let many scenes in the film stand naked as still images held on the screen for long periods of time. In this film, director Nick Cross pays homage to a former employer, John K, and it’s hard to miss the influence. There are others that have explored appealingly grotesque design, but, none more so successful than John K. His “The New Adventures of Mighty Mouse” and original “Ren and Stimpy” remain the holy grail of this movement. Similar to the first group on this list, this movement’s members are also interested in moving their characters around in unusual ways. The problem is this style (itself a revival of some attributes of golden age animation) is now twenty years old. Yesterday’s ground-breaking art becomes today’s establishment and that’s one way to view the artists working in this style. Character animation in this movement follows it’s own formulas, however free it may appear. The main concern seems to be in exploring ways to freeze and unfreeze a character. In such a way, the cartoony-ness of these films becomes center stage. I don’t offer this as a plus or minus, just as an observation. Besides John K, other obvious heroes of this group are Bob Clampett and Jim Tyer, both known for their wild bursts of movement and rebellious lack of concern for staying too close to a model design. I have to take my hats off to this group, because of the three types of designers in this list; this group is the most able of draftsman and the most adaptable to work in any style. Perhaps the only negative is a tendency for these artists to give themselves too wholeheartedly to the movement, even at the risk of their own individuality. Still, nobody can deny this movement’s artists are some of today’s top industry talents: Stephen Hillenburg, Jared Deal, Phil Rynda, C.H.Greenblatt, Bill Wray, Teddy Newton, Gary Baseman, John R. Dilworth, among others.

Of course, it’s impossible to really categorize all design and all designers into these three boxes. I realize this list is overly general. Artists will never cease to find new ways to create their own particular blend out of all the possible elements. Design is an interesting thing to ponder, in part, because whatever strokes you make are at the exclusion of all others…that is, at least, until the next line, which brings yet another choice.

Anatomy of a Director

2008-02-10T13:03:00.000-08:00

An animation director is a very rewarding position on an animated project. Often, the animation director’s duties may include shaping the production process or pipeline, creating the schedule, staffing the production, and managing the workflow while maintaining the crew's morale. All this in addition to the main responsibility of a director: creatively directing the entire process from storyboards to final delivery of animation. Whew! As an animation director, I’ve made just about every mistake possible, and perhaps I even invented some new ones.

Ironically, the best directing lesson I ever learned was from a live action director! The director was Rick Fernandes, and I was able to work with him during the live action shoot for several episodes of Blue’s Room. As the animation director, I had to be present for the whole shoot to make sure all animation’s needs for post would be met. Much of the footage we were shooting of puppets/actors (some against practical sets and some against green screen) would later feature an animated element, effect, or character added in post-production by my team of animators.

In addition to Rick, there were at least four other live action directors that season, each of them capable and skilled in their own right. However, when Rick stepped up to direct his first scene I noticed something astoundingly different. All the other directors had directed from behind the barrier of a director’s station. This seven foot high station was equipped with monitors, clipboards, water, paperclips, etc. From this vantage point, directors never made eye contact with the puppeteers, camera persons, and technical personnel. Before each new set up was shot, the directors would summarize their plan to the puppeteers and then step back, directing from behind their station as the shot was recorded.

This director’s station was close by to the back table where the executive producers and network executives sat. Most often, even after one take on a set up, the executive producers would call the directors over and start giving them notes. These might be notes on puppeteer acting, scene blocking, technical issues, and so on. All this from just one take. Often, these directors, after one take, might even seek out these notes, leaning back or stepping over to the table and fishing for notes from the uppers. With this directing style, shots took many takes before we were able to move on. Often, this lead to overtime situations, which eventually strained the budget and tired out the crew, as well as the puppeteers.

Rick was altogether different. Just like the other directors, Rick worked out a scene with the crew and puppeteers before trying a take. The difference was that once the camera started to roll, Rick didn’t retreat behind the protective cocoon of the director’s station. Instead he did something else entirely: HE STAYED WITH THE PUPPETEERS! With one eye on the puppeteer floor monitors to see what the camera was seeing, and one eye on the actual performers/space itself, Rick put himself where the action was. He saw what the puppeteers were dealing with. If one of them had difficulty getting around a piece of the set, he noticed it first hand, instead of having to shoot four wasted takes from behind the director’s station before realizing it. Rick was there for the actors and the crew. He was one of them. And, his method ensured that he (and the show) got what it needed.

There was one more method to Rick’s technique or style that really impressed me. Because he wasn’t directing from behind a station so close to the producer table, Rick gave himself more room to create and solve problems without needing to have everything spoon fed to him or weighed in on. I heard Rick explain his process to the producers just before shooting his first episode: “Let me have two takes to try to work things through. If you still have notes after that, we can go over them.” I sat close to the producer table and as Rick set up his first shot, the producers murmured concerns to each other about the lighting, acting, storytelling, scene blocking, etc. All stuff that Rick was seeing too and fixing/adjusting over his two takes. Often, by the end of the second take, the shot was in the can and we were able to move on to a new set up. To his credit, Rick always checked with the producers to make sure they got what they needed, and he was always open to any further feedback they might offer. Needless to say, with Rick at the wheel, the shoot never required over time.

This experience has stuck with me and certainly has improved my skills as a director. I try to keep close by my animators, attempting to make sure they have all their needs met and all obstacles removed so they may do their best work. There are animation directors that like to close themselves off from a production, hiding behind an office door. For example, I worked on one project where the director not only kept their door closed, they insisted on communicating with a whole in-house staff via AOL’s Instant Messenger! On a similar note, I recently spoke to some young animators working on a series here in town that didn’t even know their director’s name because (although working on the project for several months) had still never met the guy! This is sad stuff on a human level, and obviously bad for the process and the product.

Does NY Have an Animation Industry?

2008-02-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

I was grateful to be part of an interesting conversation this past Monday night. The occasion was a visit by cartoonbrew’s Amid Amidi to my SVA animation career class. For an hour and a half Amid shared his unique industry POV while fielding lots of questions from my students and I. Most interesting was Amid’s take on the difference between the industry in Los Angeles versus New York. Amid’s basic message was New York does not have industry. It has work, but not an industry. Industry implies a large pool of workers, consistently employed year after year. L.A. has such industry. Much of it’s work is under union contract, which helps standardize salaries, benefits, and working conditions. If you have an industry, it makes sense to have a union to protect and represent its members.

The question remains, “Does New York have an animation industry?” Okay, we know there is some work. More importantly, since 2003 the local animation opportunities have been pretty good for veterans and new comers alike. One can earn a living working in New York animation, although you have to sincerely work to make it happen and exist jumping job to job, sometimes with large gaps between work. Perhaps we have fifteen studios that employ more than five people at a time. Among them are a handful of larger studios, including Curious Pictures, Animation Collective, Little Airplane, Nickelodeon, World Leaders, and Blue Sky. We also have a smattering of smaller independent studios that bring in freelance help as needed.

Currently, Curious Pictures is not in major production (they recently wrapped out Kids Next Door and Little Einsteins), Blue Sky announced plans to move to Connecticut, and even those with long term work on Little Airplane’s Wonder Pets and Nick Jr’s in-house production of Umi Zumis all have end dates waiting for them a year or so down the calendar. 2008 is looking more and more like the beginning of the downward cycle where jobs are fewer, for both freelance and staff work. New York animation, since rebounding in the early 90s (during the peak days of Jumbo pictures and MTV), has gone through familiar 4-year cycles of plentiful work periods followed by leaner times.

Those who earn a living in New York not only exist from job to job, but also often change hats with each opportunity. This is a freedom we enjoy that is not as common on the west coast where the industry is far more rigid. On one job we may be a supervisor, on the next we may be doing storyboards. Some work is done on-site, and some is take-home freelance. Our pay varies with each job’s budget and our respective titles and responsibilities. Jobs are shorter in our city, so there is also a greater variety in projects, which brings the potential to pick up diverse skills.

New York City is the art capital of the world, so those working in animation here have the ability to mix with that world (as Pat Smith does). Additionally, there are art opportunities here through publishing, illustration, fashion, and merchandise and toy design. New York also has some work in special effects, motion graphics, and Web design. Animation artists working in the big apple don’t have industry in the L.A. sense, but we do have is a unique cocktail of opportunity. Many of us survive (and even thrive) on this blend.

Amid offered more evidence that New York is not an industry town, pointing out how it’s area school’s differ from those in Los Angeles. New York schools such as Parsons, Pratt, SVA, NYU, (and even near-by RISD), all focus on nurturing the artist’s personal expression. It’s about making films and artistic experimentation. At a west coast school like Cal Arts, the focus is on preparing one to work in industry doing storyboards, design, animation, and everything else. It is true the Cal Arts has a great experimental program as well, but that department is very small. Schools reflect the flavor of their surroundings. New York’s schools and their animation programs help reinforce the notion that New York is not an industry town, in the Los Angeles sense.

The final difference between the two cities might be found in their respective ASIFA chapters. Amid, who recently ended a fourteen year run working in L.A., noted that ASIFA Hollywood has great screenings that few L.A. animation artists bother to attend. I have witnessed this first hand in my two visits to the West Coast. In contrast, New York’s ASIFA-East is alive with animation artists attending monthly events, as well as running the organization itself. Our festival is the real deal, now going on to it’s 39th year! ASIFA-East members share a bond that goes beyond which studio or project happens to employ them at the time. There is a larger sense of community in NY; many of us cherish it, and more of us ought to.

Are we making a mistake in wishing to be more like Los Angeles? Do we risk losing our own unique combination of work, freelance, art, and freedom of lifestyle and personal expression? The work that comes out of the Los Angeles industry is some of the slickest animation made any where in the world, but is rarely ever confused with anything containing soul. Be careful what you wish for, because one day, you may get it.

Good Morning! Again!

2008-01-28T05:57:00.000-08:00

Some time ago, I posted on the making of my latest film, Good Morning. A few people wrote asking for a link to the film. Here, for a limited time only is a link to the film. I believe it expires on Thursday. Hope you enjoy viewing it. http://senduit.com/f76986

Good Morning is my sixth film, not counting my thesis film. I wish I could say that these half dozen films add up to an impressive body of work, but that’s not the case. Don’t get me wrong. Each film was something I felt I had to do at the time. More importantly, each film advanced my career, allowing me to grow to become an animation director. I can’t stress enough the value of doing personal work is to any career. Without it, you’ll just have a reel of other people’s show clips. You disappear in such a real, no matter how good it is.

I’ve had some advantages when it comes to making personal films. For one, it’s always been in my blood to do so. I’m one of those little brats who experimented by making animation on super 8 MM and on the family’s first VHS camcorder. I lived and breathed animation as a child, much like I still do now. Making a thesis film at SVA was a natural thing to do, besides being a graduation requirement. However, none of this made me a disciplined animator or filmmaker. I always felt my ideas were years ahead of what my current skills could deliver. I still feel this way, no matter how many years and films go by.

The other thing that’s motivated me to make films is fear. Good ol’ fear. Fear of not being good enough or worthy enough to hold a place in this industry. I also desperately wanted to tell stories, direct, animate. All things I didn’t assume that anyone might ever pay me to do. Now, I am paid to do these things, but I still make films. I still have that particular hunger that films can only satisfy.

Looking back at my first post student film, Snow Business (1998), it still remains a high mark. At the time I wanted to make a universal family film. In fact, this film was sold to TV in many European languages, so I know that I succeeded in that goal. I remember being shocked to hear people ask me if I was going to make a sequel to Snow Business. Some how, I thought this very question was evidence that I might become I pigeon-holed as a family friendly filmmaker, even though I only had one film to my name. I didn’t know what kind of filmmaker I was, beyond being a beginner. I allowed such minimal external pressure to influence the next films I chose to make. Today, I realize the harm this did to my independent animation career. One should never make personal films to please anyone else.

It took me ten years to learn this lesson, but I did eventually learn it. With Good Morning, I start again fresh.

The Great Rip-Off Myth

2008-01-20T18:32:00.000-08:00

Among the most common rookie questions concerning pitching is, “How do I protect my creation?” My default short answer is, “You don’t.” You don’t protect a creation; you develop, nurture, and freely pitch a creation. Copyright questions and the fear of getting ripped off prevent many a would-be creator from getting off the ground. Its easy to imagine our precious little babies getting stolen right from under us by some smiling back-stabbing executive. The truth is, in animation, this seldom (if ever) happens. In fact, there’s a far more likely scenario; perhaps the idea that you brought in about an opera singing robot sheriff in a futuristic old west has been passed across the development executive’s desk in two seperate pitches in one week! Well, not the exact idea, but something quite similar.

A friend of mine developed a neat idea about a family of spies and spent months creating a lush series bible with juicy show art, a full script, and all the other trimmings. On the very first attempt pitching to Nickelodeon, the development executive told my friend, “This is great. Unfortunately, we already doing something very similar called, 'The X’s.'

It’s now more than five years later and “The X’s” still has yet to set the world on fire, but that’s beside the point. The show was made and aired. Was my friend ripped off in reverse by a series that was already in production? This is what happens, folks. We all breathe the same air. We are products of the same world. You could say that good ideas are flowing in the cosmos and we have to seize the moment when inspiration strikes. To me, sitting on idea while worried that vultures are waiting to pounce upon it, is a form of self-sabotage.

As a closing thought on “the great rip off myth,” I recently had a revelation while attending a Women In Animation (WIA) panel discussion on animation artists that have transitioned into becoming published authors. As typically happens at these events many audience members asked questions about the dangers of companies or individuals stealing their ideas. They wondered how to protect themselves. Wisely, the panelists, who consisted of Tom Warburton, Megan Montague Cash, and Allan Neuwirth, calmly rested their fears. Their consensus was that it’s extremely unlikely that anyone’s ideas will be stolen. And in the odd chance that it does happen, you can always sue! Simple enough.

I realized something at that moment. I could almost smell the fear in that room. It’s not only paranoia or lack of experience in the industry that makes people worry about being ripped off. In my opinion, focusing on this concern says something else entirely; you are way too precious with your idea, and chances are, it’s your only idea. It’s no good to obsess on any one particular idea or overprotect it. Real creativity doesn’t work that way. A would-be creator’s mind has to stay sharp and keep creating new things. Any successful creators will tell you that they’ve got sketchbooks or drawers filled with ideas for scripts, books, shows, comics, etc. As they say, a writer writes. Worrying about the very unlikely event of getting ripped off can keep one from really taking a chance on their dream. Now, let’s lay the “great rip off myth” to rest for good.

Relationships in Your Career

2008-01-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

Today my SVA Animation Career Strategy class begins, stretching on for the next fifteen weeks. This is the class that has served as the foundation for my book, Your Career in Animation: How to Survive and Thrive. In each class, I stress the importance of valuing relationships in this industry. We know in our minds and hearts the hopes and desires we hold for our careers. Some of us want to direct, animate on a feature, become an art director, helm their own series, and so on. It would be naïve for us to assume that our co-workers don’t have similar dreams or aspirations. The person getting coffee for a producer today becomes the producer of tomorrow. It happens again and again. If we take the time to create and nurture healthy relationships now, it strengthens and grows our own opportunities in the future.

Of course, with burning bridges, the very opposite happens. The complication is, we’re never going to get along with everyone, nor become automatic best friends with a whole crew. The point is that we should acknowledge how we all have similar goals, are interconnected, and are each deserving of respect. Since this is all pretty abstract I thought I’d use the crew of Blue’s Clues (1996-2004) to illustrate my point. Whatch how these staffers of humble beginnings grew into forces to be reckoned with, only a short time later.

In the list below, “then,” describes the individual’s first role on Blue’s Clues. This list is far from complete. It’s merely a survey of the natural progression of some stellar people, and it’s pretty inspiring to note that all of the below are only just getting started. Imagine how we might update this list another ten years from now!

Samantha Ettus-
THEN: production coordinator.
NOW: Media personality, author, and syndicated columnist. She is the creator of the bestselling Experts' Guide series of books, offering knowledge seekers trustworthy and entertaining advice in a "CliffsNotes" format. www.samanthaettus.com

Lisa Davis-
THEN: prop master.
NOW: Author of the best selling debut novel, Belly, which was on the NY Times best sellar list. www.lisaselindavis.com

Adam Peltzman-
THEN: scripting coordinator.
NOW: Head writer of The Backyardigans, writer for numerous other top series, as well as the creator of his own Nick Jr pilot, Monster News. Currently, with more projects in development.

Fran Krause-
THEN: animator.
NOW: Co-creator of two original pilots for Cartoon Network, and internationally known and respected independent filmmaker.

Tatia Rosenthal-
THEN: animator.
NOW: Director of an upcoming independent stop motion feature film, $9.99. Now in post-production.

Sarah Landy-
THEN: Intern/Executive Assistant.
NOW: Manager of production and development for Nickelodeon’s Nick Jr. Department.

Xeth Feinberg Unleashes His Inner-Papu

2008-01-06T18:03:00.000-08:00

Xeth Feinberg, one of the today’s top talents, recently unveiled a string of new “Papu” shorts on line. Xeth is a one-man animation machine turning out terrific independent cartoons all within the confines of his home studio. I’ve admired Xeth’s work since discovering it at an Asifa-East jury screening in the mid-1990s. Some independent animators are content to make film after film that are similar in tone, structure, and subject. Xeth's body of work is unique in that he's made successful dialogue driven-toons (Papu), black and white pantomime surrealistic films (Bulbo), and one-shot narratives (The Old Country). Unifying the filmmaker's work is his distinct style, which seems like a mixture of Hanna/Barbera, indy comics, and the pie-eyed designs of the 1930s.

Xeth’s body of work has not gone unnoticed. Not long ago, Blue Sky recruited him for their story department, where he helped write jokes and plan content for Ice Age and Robots. More recently, Xeth directed Queer Duck, the motion picture, based on a series of shorts he designed and directed for IceBox.com/Showtime. Xeth, like Pat Smith, sets up his own studio boutique style, bringing in help as needed per commercial assignment, and spending the rest of the time entertaining his own whims making art and films. Unlike Pat Smith, who labors on each film for about a year and a half, Xeth cranks out films at a rate of one per week.

Xeth’s films are short, simple, and fast productions, and I think such a system encourages greater experimentation in form and content. Xeth’s work never comes across as precious or fussed over. His strengths lay in his wiseacre vision, which is ironic, spontaneous, intellectual, and lowbrow all at once. I wonder if Papu, a blue goon perpetually swinging a mighty hammer at both friends and foes alike, is Xeth’s answer to the trials and tribulations of the world of animation development. In that area, Xeth and I are kindred spirits, both pitching ideas to the same executives, and usually spending most of our time waiting for an answer.

In a cartoon pitch, all relationships between characters must be clear and purposeful. Papu’s very description, which reads, “An Inexplicable Force of Nature,” takes a jab at these conventions. Pen Ward’s recent short, “Adventure Time,” (Frederator) did a similar thing, by delightfully breezing it’s characters through an anti-story. In the Papu universe, characters are thrown together into relationships just to score a laugh (not a bad reason, in such a short format!). Papu is rarely without his randomly chosen companions; a generic small boy and a drunken long-shore man. This trio is as inexplicable as the big blue guy himself. Dispensing of the usual rules of a character driven cartoon, Xeth is free to spend his shorts any way he pleases.

In “Papu Family Values,” we come close to learning more about Papu, by meeting his seemingly normal brother. The brother coaxes Papu to accept a job in his law firm, but Papu quickly smashes that notion right on it’s head, helping to uncover his brother’s own “Papuish,” nature. In a similar way, Xeth prolifically churns out cartoons; aiming to win a broader audience and also court future career opportunities. Each toon becomes one more conk on the head, and I mean that in the best possible way. Go Xeth! Get your Papu-on at www.mishmashmedia.com

Writers and Animators, Oh Boy!

2007-12-31T08:32:00.001-08:00

What is the supposed rivalry between animators and writers? The best answer I can muster is the fact that producers don’t often consider animation artists for writer positions. Mo Willems remains one of the shining examples of someone who has bridged both worlds with success. Sure, most animation artists that make independent films are writers of sorts. The writing that I’m talking about, that mostly excludes animation artists, is script writing for TV series. Even Blue’s Clues, a series that offered its staff many diverse opportunities, drew the line at writing. Once or twice they opened the door to script contributions from the whole staff, but it never led to an artist penning a script.

There’s an attitude that writing is writing and art is art. The irony is that the wall preventing animation artists from writing scripts does not keep “front office” staffers from similarly contributing. In the world of preschool TV, I have seen scripts written by producers, coordinators, live action directors, actors, and child development research specialists. We can’t assume that all these people are automatically qualified or gifted writers. So, why are they getting this opportunity? My feeling is that this happens because those filling these positions work with the script as their sole document. Everything they do revolves around the script, unlike animation artists, which translate and then discard the script as they convert it to a visual medium. In most TV or commercial animation, artists interpret and writers write.

If an animation artist wishes to write or be considered a writer in a studio setting, they had better write some samples on their own time. I love writing scripts. My pitch projects have given me the excuse to write dozens of scripts over the years. I first developed my writing by contributing articles to the ASIFA-East newsletter (Hint! Hint!), and next by authoring the book, Your Career in Animation. This year I’ve been in development with a TV idea of my own creation and I was gratified to function as the writer on the project and not exclusively as the artist. Six years prior, I didn’t sign my first development deal with Nickelodeon (partly) because they pigeon holed me as the artist. At that point, I had no samples to prove I was a writer and it hurt my case. Today, my current deal has already led to another deal writing a series overview and bible for a new animated property, where my role will be, among other things, head writer/story editor.

Again, I ask, what is the supposed rivalry between animators and writers? My theory is nobody can block our path but, ourselves. Only we have that power. Perhaps this could be the catalyst for a new year’s resolution?

Five Reasons Why These Are the Good Old Days

2007-12-24T07:52:00.001-08:00

1-Because TV series animation jobs have been back in the United States since the mid 1990s and despite upstarts such as India, show no sign of disappearing. Maybe with the dollar so weak, this can continue unabated. We could be the third world nation doing outsourced animation for other countries! How cool is that.. wait, that doesn’t sound so great… anyway, as we stand today, men and women are actually earning a living as animators working on television series. This hadn’t happened for nearly a twenty-year period prior to the 1990s. Back then animation on shows such as Scooby Doo was outsourced, only allowing U.S. animation artists to work as designers, layout, and storyboard artists. New cheaper means of producing animation such as Flash, After Effects and Maya have made this revolution possible.

2-Because when an artist creates a character for a network (again, since the 1990s), that artist receives participatory series bonuses and a piece of the ancillary action. A Nickelodeon insider told me that one successful creator has earned between 150 to 200 million dollars this way. In contrast, Scooby Doo was created in 1969 by employees of Hannah/Barbera as a work-for-hire, who only earned a flat weekly salary for birthing this still-successful franchise. Today, many creators are not only retaining a percentage of he spoils, they own their characters outright. The internet has put a “TV network” in the hands of anyone that builds a Web site and splatters it with original content. When internet properties prove themselves with gigantic amounts of hits, real TV networks take notice, putting the power right back in the hands of the creators.

3-Because Ralph Bakshi’s legacy of taking animation to not strictly G-rated kiddie fare has finally taken root. Love it or hate it, Ralph’s films have expanded this art form’s vocabulary and helped diversify its audience. Today his influence can be seen in everything from Adult Swim’s line up to independent features daring to tread beyond the song cycle of Broadway. Bakshi’s early features such as Fritz the Cat and Heavy Traffic explored the social, political, and sexual revolution. Persepolis, the most important animated feature this year, owes a far bigger debt to Bakshi than it does to another milestone film that’s now celebrating it’s 70th birthday, Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs. Whenever anyone tackles a subject that was formally taboo to the animated medium, they are pulling a Bakshi. The art form is all the more healthy for it, unless you’d rather the Chub Chubbs inherit the earth.

4-Because animation artists are exchanging ideas and information with each other as never before, largely thanks to personal blogs, and Web sites such as cartoonbrew.com, michaelspornanimation.com, michaelbarrier.com., and frederator.com. In the 1970s, budding historians such as Jerry Beck, Michael Barrier, and Greg Ford hunted for animated films in garage sales and laid the foundation for a serious discussion of this industry’s history. Today a provocative post on cartoonbrew might score 150 posted comments in the first 24 hours. The community is not only larger than ever, but is also interacting as never before. Through personal artist blogs, we not only have the ability to take an intimate peak at great (and future great) animation artist’s thoughts and work, but also are treated to a tour of their network of artist pals.

5-Because so many of the artists that I respect most are venturing into independent feature films that, again, would not have been possible without the cheaper production technologies of today. In the upcoming years New York Independent animation may be well represented in the Oscar’s best-animated feature category. Don’t be surprised to see indy features by such directors as Michael Sporn, Nina Paley, Dan Kanemoto, Tatia Rosenthal, and Bill Plympton taking their place alongside Pixar, Blue Sky, and Dreamworks. The day of the independent animated feature is finally here and it’s future looks bright.

The Other Side of the Coin

2007-12-17T10:56:00.000-08:00

Some of the comments on my last blog post have inspired me to address a related topic. Last week my blog post was about how animation artists navigate working in a non-union animation town such as NYC. Some of the emphasis was on how animation artists can work together without the union and improve working conditions as well as studio policies. Recently, last week in fact, “permalance” workers from Viacom’s MTV networks walked off the job after their benefits and health plan were severely cut back. Among those who walked out was the entire NYC animation department at Nickelodeon. After a few short days, Viacom made some concessions and the crews returned to work. In this example, management was equally effected by the cutbacks, so the general staff had their bosses right there on the picket line with them. Still, it takes courage to walk off a job under any circumstance, so the Nickelodeon animation staff deserves our kudos and respect.

But, this posting isn’t about the above labor action. It’s about individual responsibility, which is the other side of the coin on this issue. Some students graduate with a sense of entitlement. They believe they’re owed something because of the great time and expense they just put into their education. The first five years of a typical animation career is the time when experience should be the prime consideration, far above getting the highest salary. The pay I earned while working at my first job at Michael Sporn Animation was not the biggest dollar in town. There was far more money to be earned at that time at Jumbo Pictures or MTV. But, I was working at one of the only studios in town that did animation from start to finish. The bottom line was that I was in the best place I could be to learn. And I had a lot to learn (still do!). Besides, Sporn paid a fair and generous dollar based on his budgets. If you follow the almighty dollar as your only compass you may have a very sorry career to show for it. I never heard of anyone ever choosing this industry to strike it rich. If that’s your plan, you’re probably setting yourself up for a big fall.

Yes, I understand that students fresh out of school have student loans. These loans represent your investment in yourself. If you’re looking for a quick return on that investment and believe that others owe that to you, then, you’ve already sold yourself way short. This is a business about relationships and reputation. These are your two greatest assets that you should guard with your life. Get over your sense of entitlement and start building your career. Opportunities I now have are the result of 12 years of making personal films, creating and pitching projects, taking on freelance opportunities in addition to full time work, teaching at three universities, and networking/volunteering through ASIFA-East. I have no anger or disappointment. I never believed that anyone owed me a damned thing. I’m too busy being grateful that I get to work in the field of my choice. Turn the mirror on yourself before you look to vent your frustrations elsewhere.

New York City Animation and the Ghosts of Union Past

2007-12-10T15:43:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time New York City animation was unionized. By the early 1980s, the union’s membership and influence waned as the local industry shrank and independent studios accepted low paying (below union scale) animation work from clients such as Sesame Street as a means of survival. Thankfully, animation in the big apple proved far more resilient than the union that sought to protect its member’s interests. However, recent events in NYC animation, such as the erratic behavior of specific studios, the sudden layoff of a whole crew at AniMagic, and the vanishing benefits package at MTV networks, have got some folks whispering about how a union might play into the whole mix. I don’t claim to have the answer to this question, although many are of the opinion that a union would send work away from NYC as well as threaten the existence of small independent studios.

I’ve often believed that there’s a circumstantial problem in this business that helps create conditions that make some desire to unionize. Firstly, each year, there’s a new batch of students bursting out of the animation schools. In NYC, alone, I’d estimate the animation grads per year to be around 110 individuals. The new trend is for studios/companies to “hire” these students as interns. Unpaid interns. Maybe this is similar to the old days of the apprenticeship system, but I don’t think so. An intern is someone still in school, helping out a few days a week at a company, in exchange for school credit, experience, and contacts. Secondly, animation artists, in their first few years in the business, have fewer family obligations and often consider a studio to be their new fraternal order or clubhouse. In such a way, the sacrifices they make by working unpaid evening and weekend hours seem less painful. Things get further complicated because this group often feels (and rightly so) that they are still paying dues. In addition, they have a natural fear about losing their jobs, while at the same time, feel grateful to be employed in their industry of choice.

While this is a non-union animation town, it doesn’t mean that class action can’t be utilized. I worked on a series for a big network where, initially, there were no benefits or ergonomic equipment. The staff rallied together and meetings were held with producers and network representatives. In the end, the staff won all their victories, even causing conditions to improve at large rival studios that were then forced to up the ante of their own employee offerings. In a lesser (but, still notable) action, the same crew successfully petitioned their director for better tech service to their computers, each artist signing their names to a petition.

But, crews do not always come together in the right way, for the greater good of each other. Sometimes they come together simply to lick each other’s wounds. In this scenario, everyone rallies around each other to soldier on, in spite of all kinds of abuses such as mandatory late hours and weekend work without pay, arbitrary firings, demotions, and harassment. I don’t trust that people will always have the confidence and leadership to tackle these issues on their own. I suppose the argument is; should they even have to? I merely ask the question and open the floor for discussion. For those wishing to learn more about the history of the animation union in the USA, I recommend Tom Sito’s book, Drawing the Line, although his honest retelling of union battles fought and lost, sometimes help make the case against the union.