Animondays

Animondays Interview: Stephen Hillenburg

2012-02-11T04:56:00.000-08:00

As an employee on a Nickelodeon production for over eight years, one of my perks was being able to attend company staff meetings where then-Nick president Herb Scannell would warmly explain the state of the company. If that wasn't enough, there was free Snapple. As part of his spiel, there would usually be video clips of upcoming Nick shows or movies. One day the clip introduced a little yellow sponge that would soon take the world by storm.

If you've never taken the SpongeBob plunge, may I recommend seasons 1-3. They are simply magic.

On one hand SpongeBob was simply part of the continuum of Bugs Bunny, Woody Woodpecker, and other trickster characters with big personalities and signature loud laughs. On the other hand SpongeBob was innovative in that he ushered in the modern era of the innocent rube-like character, the naive man-child who looks at the world with unspoiled eyes. Of course this character type has existed before in literature, theatre, film, and TV, but SpongeBob gave us a new spin on the tradition and created a trend-setting phenomenon. Post SpongeBob, this character-type has echoed in animation, influencing such series as Cartoon Network's Chowder and Flap Jack.

While working at Nick in NYC, season one of SpongeBob became our water cooler conversation. So, one day I got the notion to call creator Stephen Hillenburg in Burbank to see if he'd agree to do an interview for the ASIFA-East newsletter. He agreed immediately and sent me back a great set of answers. Without further ado, here's a snapshot of the early days of SpongeBob from an interview dated April 2, 2001, and appearing for the first time in its entirety online. Enjoy!

What was your background in animation before creating, developing and producing
Spongebob?
I attended CalArts and participated in the Experimental Animation graduate program under Jules Engel. During this time I produced two animated films, 'The Green Beret'( a short envolving a GirlScout with enormous hands) and 'Wormholes'( a short about a fly landing on a watch in 'relativityland') both of which toured the festival scene. I also created another film of straight ahead animation titled 'Animation Diary' which consisted of 365 drawings (one drawing drawn per day for the year 1991). After graduating I was hired to work on the Nickelodeon series 'Rocko's Modern Life'. I directed for three seasons and was promoted to Creative Director for the fourth season.

What pitch materials did you use to "sell" Spongebob to Nickelodeon?
I created a bible and a few paintings to explain the characters and their world. To supplement this I sculpted SpongeBob, Patrick and Squidward and put them in an aquarium where they were propelled by an air pump. I also recorded a temp theme song on a small tape recorder and mounted it inside a conch shell with a mercury switch, the song would play whenever the shell was lifted to the ear. I was also nude.

How much did the initial vision for Spongebob change or evolve from the original concept?
Did minor characters develop into more prominent roles?
Originally I wanted the show to focus on this innocent, optimistic, overly enthusiastic, sometimes odd and even magical character(SpongeBob) living this nautical fantasy world. I think we've pretty much stayed on course. The key has been finding stories where either SpongeBob prevails innocently or where his innocence causes a conflict for himself. I wanted the overall sensiblity of the world to be wild and surreal yet have logic. Most of the original cast remains with no real change in their importance.

How did you come to meet the people who work on the show like Derek Drymon, Aaron Springer, Mr. Lawrence, Sherm Cohen, and Paul Tibbitt?
I'm lucky I guess! There is a direct relationship between the success of this show and my immensely creative staff. These guys and all the other crew members are hard to find and hard to replace.A few people (Derek Drymon for example) worked on 'Rocko'. Most of the people I find through word of mouth.You have somebody on the staff you like and trust, they recommend someone they think would fit in nicely on the show. Often you're searching for someone that has the right sensibility, the appropriate sense of humor ( someone who 'gets it' ).

What, if any, roles have you taken on in producing Spongebob that you don't enjoy?
Managing people is an essential part of producing a show but managing people can be tiring. I like going to work and being creative. When the other stuff gets in the way it's a drag.

Many of the new wave of television cartoons including Courage the Cowardly Dog, Power Puff Girls and your show feature the storyboard credit prominently before each cartoon, alongside the director's name. What is the role of storyboard artists on Spongebob? In addition to their work on boards, do they make major writing and directorial contributions to the show?
On SpongeBob a writing team writes the premise. Then a Director and Storyboard artist 'team' write the episode in 'comic' or storyboard form. We do not storyboard from script.

The story ideas for spongebob are very simple, well told, entertaining and full of great little touches like the poor fish who keeps getting hit by the anchor toss in the muscle beach competition in the episode where Spongebob gets fake muscle arms. At what point do the smaller details that end up contributing so much to the overall effect get into your show? Where do these ideas come from? Do you ever wonder if one more gag or one less gag could make or break a sequence?

Our overall philosophy has been keep it simple. Try to find humor in a simple situation ( that hopefully reaches absurd proportions). Put the characters together and watch what happens...you know like red ants and black ants. We are only doing eleven minute stories so there are not alot of subplots. Sometimes we will build an entire act around one silly concept. SpongeBob and Patrick both have candy bars. Patrick is so stupid that he forgets that he has just eaten his and believes the one SpongeBob holds was his. SpongeBob is now a thief. The humor should always come from character. The ideas come from everywhere and anyone. Things like childhood memories. When developing stories we often play non-linear thinking exercises ( like pulling words out of a hat and writing a situation inspired by the word ). Ultimately the ideas that stick are the ones that consistently make everyone laugh. As far as the number of gags goes, I definitely think the pacing of a section can be bogged down by too many jokes.

Some entire episodes of Spongebob can be understood with the sound turned off....for instance, the episode in which Spongebob delights in the limitless joys of a simple piece of paper. How do you balance the visual to verbal content of the show from each episode's inception?
What probably helps most here is reviewing all drafts of the story ( after the outline stage) either as a storyboard or an animatic,
doing visual and verbal rewrites simultaneuosly.

Several episodes of Spongebob feature terrific song segments that are woven effectively into the plot lines, such as the "friendship song" sung by Plankton and SB, the "ripped my pants" song and Sandy's "wish I was back in Texas". Did the song ideas evolve out of the plot lines or did the plot lines evolve out of the song ideas?
All the above songs were written after the plot was determined.

There is an LA based group of artists that draw heavily upon cartoon (and animation) imagery in their work (Mike Kelley, Paul McCarthy, etc.) Have these artists or any other contemporary art world influences inspired Spongebob in any way?

I was at this museum once that had a room full of cartoony Mike Kelley drawings that were all really bizarre. A group of elementary kids led by a museum docent entered the room and got really excited about the drawings. A few were examining this depiction of I think Abe Lincoln with brain waves and others were pointing at this one drawing of a goose biting a little boy on the penis. The docent was clearly uncomfortable and quickly ushered them out of the room (against their will ) to the next exhibit. I've always wanted SpongeBob to be that compelling....did I answer the question?

Did you experience any resistance from "the network" in incorporating live-action elements into SB? (Like in "The Suds" episode when the hand reaches in and grabs the characters and washes them out)
No. They were a little worried about 'Patchy the Pirate' though.

How do you maintain the high quality look of your show when dealing with an overseas studio handling the animation?
Our overseas studio is Rough Draft. They are really the best studio in Korea for cartoony animation. Sure there's communication barriers but those guys work really hard and have some talented cartoonists on board. Also they are quite familiar with other Nickelodeon shows such as 'Ren and Stimpy' and 'Rocko's Modern Life' where layouts were done from detailed storyboards.

Did you cast the show yourself? Do you ever do any VOs on the show?
Donna Grillo and I cast the show. I would explain to Donna the specific voices I had in mind for each character and she would recommend a list of candidates. I did the voice of 'Potty' the parrot in the 'Patchy the Pirate' live action segments. Anybody can do a parrot.

What's your personal favorite SB episode to date and why?
Being so close to the project it's impossible for me to have a favorite. I think the shows get better and better. The characters become more developed, the animation more consistent.

Were Spongebob's nocturnal dream traveling adventures at least partially inspired by the Sour Puss and Gandy cartoons made at Terrytoons in the early 1940s?
I'm not sure.That was an idea Doug Lawrence hatched.

The character of Bubble Bass and Spongebob seem to have a Jerry and Newman relationship, a-la Seinfeld. What films, television shows, comics...etc, do you draw creative inspiration from?
For this particular series anything that deals with 'Candide'-like innocence. Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Laurel and Hardy, Pee-Wee,
The Muppets. Movies like 'My Life as a Dog' or 'A Christmas Story'. Also Popeye, Beany and Cecil, Krazy Kat, Dr.Suess, Yellow Submarine, Calvin and Hobbes. I should mention that a great deal of the inspiration for the series came from my interest in marine biology and surf culture.

Spongebob draws a large adult following. Are you surprised that adults have taken to your show?
Yes and no. It is Saturday am TV, but since we write things that make us laugh one could assume other adults would also find the show amusing. We definitely don't pander to kids...but we also try not to write over their heads. I was more surprised to hear about college students playing drinking games while watching 'Blue's Clues'.

What animated shows, if any, do you measure your work on Spongebob against or consider your creative competition.
'Ren and Stimpy' and 'The Simpsons' raised the bar for all TV animation. Those shows really inspired us to try to do something memorable or maybe even groundbreaking. At they same time we are fighting hard to not copy them. Always asking 'How can we not be like those shows?'

What independent animators/animated films do you admire?
Jules Engel. He's singlehandedly taught and inspired countless independent animators. His age is a mystery.

Paul Driessen. When I was thirteen I went to a Tournee of Animation and saw 'The Killing of an Egg'. That film made a lasting impression on me.

Richard Condie. 'The Big Snit' has got to be one of the greatest indies ever.

If you had three wishes, what would they be?
1.Pleasure for all things living and non-living.
2.To never have to 'high five' an industry executive.
3.That they resume production of 'Tombow'2B pencil.

Animondays Interview: Nina Paley

2012-02-05T12:14:00.000-08:00

Nina Paley beaming with pride in front of NYC's IFC Theatre with her film on the Marquee. Her feature ran at the theatre from Dec 25-31, 2009.

When I wrote my recent book, Directing Animation, it was an absolute must to talk to Nina Paley for two reasons. One, she made a wonderful and practically self-funded and self-produced feature length animated film: Sita Sings the Blues. And, two, she inadvertently pioneered a new means of distribution in the process. When I asked Nina if she'd agree to an interview for my book, her one condition was that we chat on the phone instead of emailing a set of questions and answers back and forth. This worked out really well and allowed me to better explore certain areas with follow up questions. Luckily I was able to type as fast as we talked. Maybe if my animation career stalls I can fall back as a Steno.

Without further ado, appearing for the first time in its entirety, here's my interview with Nina Paley from September 16, 2009:

An emotional moment from "Sita," in a film chock-full of them.

1-What skill sets go into directing animation for a feature film?
I directed my computer, not other animators... so from my experience, the important part was knowing how to use and work with my computer. Sita happened magically. Its based on an old and long story. It appeared with the story structure in place, the beginning, middle and end were already there.

I wasn't sitting around wanting to do a feature. I had no intention of doing a feature film. But, I felt compelled to make it real. There's a reason I'm not making another feature. I will only do it if another idea comes along that makes me have to do it.

I get lots of ideas, so I can't possibly make all of them into pieces of art... but, some of them stick and won't go away...my next thing is a book, but not because I want to write a book.

I don't know what's a good or bad reason to make art.. there's all kinds of motiviations.... being an artist is hard, there's not really money in it... so having a motivation other then money seems good. There should be some reason to do it other than money.

2-Can you list some common mistakes and challenges that are faced by the first time feature animation director?
I only made one feature... but, I will say that one man's mistake is another man's virtue. People give you a lot of warnings about mistakes you can make... I think that sometimes the biggest mistake you can make is listening to those warnings, especially listening on copyright issues. The advice there is wrong, technically and morally wrong. Listen to your quiet inner voice instead. Sita would not have existed if I had listened to the advice I got.

There are lawyers that are writing this info on copyright, warning us: just don't use old stuff, only use stuff that's clear, and raise the money first. But, you don't have to raise the money first nowadays... art doesn't obey any laws. Tell that to the muse... or don't tell it to the muse.

3-How, if at all, is directing a feature different then directing shorts?
There were differences... I knew the story would have to be structurally different... there had to be something that held everything together. It doesn't always come together... I see a lot of features where something is just not there. Possibly I was lucky becasuse (as a solo effort) I wasn't destroyed by committee.

4-What part of directing a feature gave you the most satisfaction?
A lot of things. One thing was the commitment of it. Knowing what it was.. having a large and clear goal... Every day I felt I could work on it. There was a daily communion with art. Once I made the commitment, I didn't worry about whether it was crazy, I just did what I needed to do each day.

5-Where did you learn your sense of timing, acting, staging, and storytelling that is so essential in directing feature animation?
I was not formally trained. Probably I learned like how you learn how to talk: by listening. It's like a language. I picked it up by observing and being exposed to media.

Another eye-popping moment from "Sita."

6-How long did your feature production take, how did you pay for it, and how would you describe your distribution model?
3 years of work spread over 5 years of time. I started in 2005, finished in 2008. The very beginnings of it were in 2002, as a short. I took a few breaks to do freelance work. One really great thing, once I was committed to the project and willing to be poor, I called my parents to ask if I ran out of money, if I could go back and live with them...and they said, "yes." So I had that to fall back on. I very consciously avoided worrying about the money. I had a new age approach to it that it will work out: "You'll be OK no matter what. You can sleep on peoples' sofas...people won't let you die."

I read the comments on cartoonbrew and talk to artists, and there is a real fear of starving to death, but the fact is your friends and family won't let you starve to death... even me (and I have a stressful relationship with my family). And, I will take care of others the same way.

3 ways to reckon the budget is: it was $80,000 for production costs, without food and rent. This included sound design, commisioning music, actors, dubs and prints.

If you include food and rent, the total cost would be $200,000. My primary expense was me. The costs of licensing the music was $70,000. That broke down to $50,000 in license fees and 20,000 for transactions costs.

I didn't think of finishing the film as a tool to raise this money. And when I was finished, I was prohibited by law to give it away for free. The law distinguishes between commercial and non commercial infringement. Either way I could have gone to jail. I cleared these things because I wanted to show it for free... There's more money in showing it for free than with a proprietary conventional distrubition model. You need a ton of money to promote a feature, and access to theatres. If you are an independent, you don't control the media stream. A film that has a small promotion budget is a killer, so many small films have been released but there haven't been enough publicity around them. Their costs are never recouped. Most feature filmmakers I've talked to have made zero dollars on the back end. Their investors paid them a salary/advance to make the film, 10 or 20 thousand dollars.

If you're lucky, people will see your film. I can be broke without the help of a distributor. More can see it if I release it freely.
Ten years ago it would have been very different. The film could not exist. Ten years ago it would have gone through a conventional distribution. Now the internet offers all these fab ways to share information...

Today the only limited resource is peoples' minds. There's not enough hours in the day to pay attention to all the good stuff. There's so much stuff I want to read and look at each day. There's competition over eyeballs... over peoples' attention.

The good thing about competition is if things are good, they are likelier to... you know, quality is a kind of the survival of the fittest right now. The model we are emerging from is the winner takes all, and a few things take over everything––becoming mega popular. The execs are all looking for that... something that can be really good but only attract a small audience won't interest that old exec. In the new model you can get some kind of audience for almost anything, but it takes time and there's a lot of stuff competing... The stuff that will get eyeballs is stuff people recommend to other people. Things don't have to be blockbusters.

There were a lot of steaming turds that did fine in the three-network TV days because we all just watched what was on TV that night, but, nowadays if you make a turd, it competes with a lot of other stuff that people might like more because it's better. That's why old media has its nickers in a twist.

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Pitcher

2012-01-29T07:37:00.000-08:00

Last week I crammed in a three-day whirlwind trip to LA to pitch a new project with my co-creators, the Levinson bros. Our reception ran the full rollercoaster from red hot "I wouldn't change a thing" and "this is just what were looking for," to "Love it, but we don't need it" to "I like the tone, and one of the characters, but..." to a scathing rejection of every single element. Ouch!

Three things I was reminded of this week:

One is that development execs are people like you and me (duh), albeit probably better paid. As with any group of "real" people, they can't be reduced to a single stereotype. The execs we met with were motherly, aloof, sympathetic, bored, excitable, opinionated, tight-lipped, lackluster, and inspirational.

Two, because of the above, showing a project is akin to a rorschach test, probably saying as much about the exec's pysche as anything else... The variety of reactions on one project could be comical at times. One exec said "your character is too mild and meek," the same day another declared "I'm not seeing the mild and meek side of the character." Moments like that can actually help a creator relax. Because, what does it all mean anyway?

Three, during the pitch process creators collect A LOT of data on what the networks are currently looking for. And this brings up the great dilemma: what the hell to do with that info? If you want, you can let this outside influence in, and return with a paint-by-numbers show tailor-made to these instructions. In the past, that's just what I'd do. It was like a game to me. But how often did that new idea really connect with "me"? The truth is that the best creation comes from within. When Pen Ward built the odd, random, and fun world of Adventure Time he did so from an honest place that was so real to him... It WAS him. But now some execs use his show as what they expect from you too.

One exec summed up what they are looking for as being louder, wilder, and even more random than Adventure Time. But I can't help believing that the next big thing won't be defined by Adventure Time, just as Adventure Time wasn't defined by SpongeBob. History taught us: Looney Tunes beat Disney by not being Disney.

So what to do with this feedback? Maybe it's my age (half my stubble is gray now), but I'd rather be ME even if it paints me eternally uncool and uncommercial because I've learned-- if it ain't personal, it's nothing.

Speaking of the personal, this trip gave me a chance to meet up with two sets of cousins from my fathers side of the family, whom even my father has never met. So it was pitching by day and family reunions at night. Ironic, in a way, because that's like following one type of stress with another. As accustomed as I am to pitching now, it still requires a great deal of energy and nerve. After a meeting, the toll of the experience hits me. There's always a deep breath as I walk out the door.

But, instead of creating added stress, these pitches made meeting "new" family seem like a break or reward at the end of the day. Happily, my new extended family were all wonderful people. It was a joy to make their acquaintance and help build a bridge across time.

We are all the descendants of my Great Grandfather Isaac Levy.

Isaac was head of an acrobatic trio that preformed in vaudeville with my Great Grandfather being the strong man (bottom guy). They once shared a stage with Eddie Cantor. One of Isaac's daughters went into showbiz too, shaping her three children into a successful family of Flamenco dancers and singers that starred in an Oscar-nominated short called "Bombalera" in 1945.

It seemed natural to be meeting some of Isaac's offspring in the industy town of Burbank all these years later. Whatever the fate of the pitches, connecting with my relatives gave me my "Hollywood" ending.

Animation Career Round Up

2012-01-17T17:40:00.000-08:00

*a snapshot of a panel called "Job or No Job" from the 2008 Platform Animation Festival in Portland, Oregon. Left to right: Heather Kenyon (moderator), and panelists Fred Seibert, Jason McHugh, me, Debra Blanchard, and Frank Gladstone.

A very nice (and talented) former student recently ran into trouble finding work after his long-term job ended. Hearing his story brought back memories of my first animation layoff some 15 years ago. Lay offs are like rights of passage in this industry. Before they come along we work under the illusion of stability and consistency. My first lay off forever changed me, making me realize I was responsible for my own experience in this industry.

To try and help my former student, I first rounded up 10 links to past Animondays entries dealing with the subjects of finding work, keeping a job, and building a healthy and rewarding career in this industry. This is hard-won information, based on my experiences (mistakes and all) along with observations on others. Since it could be of use to others as well, I'm using this blog post to present those links.

Even with ten essays, this is far from the whole story, so feel free to add your own additional links in the comments. It might be fun to follow this next week with a round up of similar links from Richard O' Connor and Mark Mayerson, who have also written extensively on the subject from their own areas of expertise.

On the role and importance of relationships to your career.

On the difference between a job-to-job existence vrs. having a career plan.

On the difficulty of breaking in to the business.

On techniques you can use to give yourself an edge in the market place.

On avoiding bad mentors and bad advice in the workplace.

On what's missing from unsuccessful job hunts.

On surviving downtime.

On the role of staying connected and staying in touch to ensure continued employment.

On the importance of being able to juggle all the aspects that make up a successful long-term career in animation.

On how your non-animation related work can teach you lessons that are also applicable to this industry.

Booking

2012-01-14T05:20:00.000-08:00

The one and only Mo Willems, animation superstar turned amazing children's book author, caught in a snapshot while attending an ASIFA-East festival last decade.

Over the years I’ve flirted with the idea of trying to develop as a children’s book author. Starting in the late 90s, I illustrated a steady stream of books for Simon & Schuster, Scholastic, and Golden Books. These were all Blue’s Clues titles. This opportunity came from working on the series that spawned them. All I had to do, initially, was take a test to get on the approved list of illustrators. After that you just waited for the phone to ring.

Starting around 2004, I wrote a half dozen original manuscripts of my own book ideas, created some concept art, and submitted to an agent or two and the odd publisher. Despite some interest and encouragement, no deals were forthcoming. Then, one day I asked my friend, Mo Willems, for advice. He said that putting a viable children’s book together is much more work than people think, and advised that it’s absolutely necessary to rough out the entire book before approaching an agent.

Unlike the world of pitching animated series ideas, when it comes to children’s books, you absolutely need an agent. Publishers only want to look at books that come through agents, knowing that agents only represent books/authors that have merit and sales potential. Agents act as the buffer zone for publishers. They fend off all the "unsuitable" books that publishers don't have to see.

Once I was armed with Mo’s good advice I can’t say that followed it. Instead, I tried another handful of book pitches in my own half-lazy way with no success. Up until six months ago I would have said that my so-called attempts at cracking the world of children’s books were over. But, half the fun of a career is not being able to predict what’s ahead.

While making an original animated series pitch with a couple of partners, we enlisted a wonderful comedienne/writer/actress to voice one of our characters. I loved her voice and she loved our project (the latter of which comes in handy when you’re asking an established talent to work on spec). Half way through our production, she asked me if I would be willing to do some spec work for her, illustrating a children’s book she wanted to write. She presented two raw ideas and I picked the one I was interested in. She wrote a few drafts and I designed the characters.

A couple of months drifted by until I could jump back on the book project, but when I did I remembered Mo’s advice: “rough out the entire book before approaching an agent.”

So, I decided to rough out the entire 32 page book and take 5 or so spreads to full finished color. Laying out the book, figuring out the page flow, type design, etc., has been a blast. I see now what Mo meant. The book just isn’t there until you go through that process. Sure, there’s the “voice” of the author’s writing, but the other “voice” is how that story unfolds into a page-by-page visual experience. Why would an agent or publisher “get it” without you having done that work?

My experience finally utilizing Mo’s wisdom reminds me how often we go around collecting good advice, but so seldom use it. Still, better late than never.

Guest Speakers

2012-01-07T09:55:00.000-08:00

My favorite class to teach is the animation career strategies class at SVA, which is titled Animation Promotion/PR (Public Relations). As I’ve mentioned before, when I was a student at SVA, Linda Simensky taught this class, where she brought in a who’s who of local animation talent to share the ups and downs of working-in-animation.

It’s been my pleasure to keep that same tradition going by bringing in talented guest speakers over the years such as PES, Patrick Smith, Candy Kugel, Mo Willems, Tom Warburton, Xeth Feinberg, Tina Moglia, Ray Kosarin, Allan Neuwirth, Debra Solomon, John R. Dilworth, Otis Brayboy, Ian Jones Quartey, Jake Armstrong, and many others. My rule for guest speakers is that they must have unique experiences different from my own (since the students are already stuck with me), and that each speaker represent a specific career path.

The 15-week course spun off into my first book in 2006, ensuring the information gathered has reached beyond my classroom. But, the best thing for me is how teaching this class gives me the privilege of meeting and connecting with a new wave of talent each year, and how through the students' questions and guest speakers' advice, I have a chance to learn something new too.

At the end of the fall 2011 term of my class, I compiled a visiting guest speaker list, so I could summarize the wisdom offered by each one. As a way to kick in 2012, I thought it would be fun to post this list below. Best wishes on your career in animation in the new year!

Eileen Kohlhepp- stop motion animator –
As a stop-motion animator (her current gig is animating for Henry Selick on his new feature!) she’s had to move around a lot and work in different cities, so she relies on staying in touch with people to help ensure future work. With each booking she updates her roster of clients as to her schedule––what she’s working on, when she’ll finish, etc. Giving former clients such updates has made it easier from them to hire her. Not a bad strategy.

Dan Meth- web animator-
Anyone who earns a living writing/directing/and producing his own animated cartoons deserves our attention and admiration, so I’m always happy to have Dan visit my class. This semester, he presented a power point lecture that included a slide displaying the logos for Tumblr, Facebook, YouTube, LinkedIn, and Vimeo with a headline above saying “Don’t Fight These.” Dan’s point is that social media as a powerful tool for today’s creative people, and one that has allowed him to spread his brand across the airwaves.

Kevin Maher- writer-
This human ball of creative energy, whom I’ve written about before here, told us that before taking on any freelance job he evaluates it based on how well it scores on a series of factors, giving it a 1-5 score on: money, creative satisfaction, ability to lead to new contacts, how limited an impact it will have on family time, and if it represents a clear step forward in his career. For Kevin to take on a gig it has to score at an 18 or higher.

Emily Campbell- Entertainment Lawyer-
“Be your own business agent,” advised entertainment lawyer Emily Campbell. She cautioned that animation artists that run their own studio businesses should never entrust the job of business manager to anyone but themselves. The thinking behind this is that nobody but the owner/operator knows what money is coming in and out and how to properly manage it. Plus she added that many times when people entrust their books to someone else it results in getting ripped off.

ila Abramson- Owner/recruiter of Ispy Recruiting-
North America's top expert in how to prepare yourself and stay prepared as an animation industry professional, ila explained how your resume/reel/portfolio, etc. are always in process, for your whole career. As a survival skill, animation artists must be in the habit of constantly updating their work to keep it current. ila told many cautionary tales of artists that didn’t do so and once their jobs ended (or the studios that employed them closed down), they found it impossible to retrieve samples of their work.

Liz Artinian- BG and color supervisor “The Venture Bros.” and founder of 2Art for TV-
Speaking to students as the next generation to enter the workforce, Liz stressed the importance of being professional in the work place and not to make the mistake of creating another “high school” environment on the job. She gave examples how holding a poor or immature attitude holds back achievement in a collaborative atmosphere of an animation studio.

Rick Ritter- storyboard artist on Nick Jr’s Team Umizoomi-
Rick, through his dead pan humor, explained that although he hadn’t trained to work in the animation industry, he was able to pick up much of his skills as a storyboard artist by learning from everyone around him––picking and choosing from the best of his co-workers skills.

Pilar Newton- home studio owner/operator of PilarToons, LLC-
In her naturally enthusiastic delivery, Pilar reminded the students not to forget that they’re artists and not just defined by animation-specific jobs that they get or don’t get. “You can work in other areas, such as silk screen, graphic design, illustration, etc…,” she said.

Tim and Mike Rauch -Indie Directing & Producing team-
If the job you want doesn’t exist, invent it and put in the sweat equity to make it happen––so was the example provided by the Rauch Brothers. In short, there was no studio, no job for which to apply to that would allow them to make powerful and gripping animated documentaries full of humanity. So, over a painstaking three-year period they tapped into their connections, developed their creative approach to the medium, proved what they could do by executing three fantastic sample films, and (all the while) sacrificing financially until all the planets aligned.

Fred Seibert- Founder and Exec Producer of Frederator & Media Entrepreneur-
If you know Fred at all, you can guess that he had the students’ attention from his first word, telling us truths such as buyers (networks, media companies, etc.) only pay attention to people who make things (films, comics, etc.) because these are the people that have something to say/sell. On the entrepreneurial side, Fred cautioned that his plans that failed were always the ones that were rushed and not properly thought through.

Animondays Interview: Linda Simensky -part II

2012-01-02T05:28:00.000-08:00

*I'm a sucker for photos filled with my animation heroes. Here's a photo via Michael Sporn from a 2007 post on Annecy. Left to right are Sporn, John R. Dilworth, and Linda Simensky in 1992.

Happy New Year to all! As my first post of 2012 I'm happy to present the conclusion to my interview with the PBS Kids VP of Children's Programming, Linda Simensky.

For all those pitching in 2012, best of luck to you. Enjoy the experience, get as much as you can out of it, and be open to other measures of success. You may not sell your project out of the gate, but you'll be on the road to building better communication/storytelling skills, and make important new relationships with producers and development execs that could lead to job opportunities (if not a deal on your creations down the line).

Linda's answers are straight-forward, practical, and should help you on your way. Good luck!

13-How useful have pitching extras (such as a bit of finished animation, voice or song track) been to you in a typical pitch meeting?
Seeing a demo of the animation can sometimes help show us more about the idea. There have been times, such as in the WordGirl pitch, where Soup 2 Nuts came in with a very funny piece of animation, and we all fell in love with it. On the other hand, we've seen a number of horrible demos that have pretty much killed the projects for us. As for other extras, such as theme songs or voice samples, if we already like the idea for the show, these are often interesting to see, but I can't think of time when the extras made us change our minds about an idea.

14-How much time should a creator give a network to get back to them with a verdict after a pitch meeting?
It varies, but I'd say that it often takes a fair amount of time. You can get a rejection fairly quickly but contructive feedback takes time. If several people are going to look at an idea, and someone is going to put some notes together, it can take a while. Also, the higher up the executive is in the company, the more time it will take to hear back from them.

I tend to look at projects in relation to each other, and that adds time to the process.

Since our department does more than just development, sometimes production takes precedence over development.

It is okay to call or email and check on the status of your project, as long as you don't start to nag. You might get a faster answer if you pose your question as "I am curious to know what you thought," as opposed to "Please give me an answer as soon as possible."

I am usually swamped at work to begin with, and there's usually something going in production on that needs immediate attention.

15-Is the Paper Development deal (where a network options a project and commissions more scripts, designs, or storyboards) the standard first deal in your development process, or do some projects go right to pilot or series? If so, why?
In past jobs, there were always the development deals, followed by pilots. At PBS, we have a slightly different process, and the experience for each show is different. The producer and the producer's experience, the kind of show, and what the show seems to need all determine the approach we will take with that property. Some go right to series, some start with a set of shorts or a Web site, some go to pilot, and some may go direct to broadband, an option we are currently in the midst of designing.

If a series is pitched by someone we are already working with, we may determine we are comfortable with that producer and move ahead to a series without a pilot. But when we have questions about a show or a creator, we might ask for a pilot or some further development to answer those questions.

16- What amount of each year's green lit projects are initiated by or that involved celebrities as a selling point?
None at present, but people often end up casting more famous voices. PBS seems to attract a number of actors who are interested in being connected with PBS, either for their kids or because of their appreciation of PBS from their own childhoods.

There hasn't been a point, either, where we've felt that we should pick up a show just because it featured a celebrity. It all comes down to the strength of the show, with our without the celebrity. After all, the chance of that celebrity dropping out of the show for some other obligation is pretty high, so a show needs to work on concept alone.

17- What is your opinion of shorts programs (such as What a Cartoon! at CN, and Random Cartoons from Frederator/Nick)? What are the pros/cons of such programs?
These types of programs are great for giving emerging artists the chance to make a short and get experience. The odds of getting a series through these sorts of programs are pretty small, though, probably smaller than if you just pitched to the network.

18-Besides looking at pitches, what are some of the other duties a network development executive juggles?
At PBS, there is no member of the kids programming department who handles only development. We oversee all of kids programming, so we handle program strategy and scheduling, development, and current series. In addition, we work closely with other departments, so we are involved with Interactive, Marketing and Branding, Business Affairs, and several aspects of management at different levels. We speak at and arrange a number of meetings each year with the PBS stations, as well. We're always in meetings about any number of topics.

19- How open are you to re-looking at a previously pitched (and rejected) project, assuming that the creator has made a large amount of changes and improvement?
Sure. We have looked at many projects at several different stages. I can think of several projects that came to us that weren't what we were looking for. After numerous discussions and changes, a few have ended up in our commissioning rounds. I think it is rare for an idea to come in fully figured out and fitting perfectly into our lineup. Everything usually requires some feedback.

For some projects, though, if they aren't working after a few tries, it's usually best to move on.

20- How much experience should a would-be creator have before they are ready for their own pilot or series? And where should they best get that experience?
At PBS, producers and creators must have series experience, and preferably experience in kids educational programming, as well. People starting out should want to have experience -- I would imagine it is fairly daunting to be running a 40-episode first season order with no background in producing. Given this huge level of responsibility and how much freedom a producer gets, I would prefer to work with people who have experience producing a series.

21-Any advice for new comers to pitching on how to best manage & cope with the emotional rollercoaster inherent in the pitching process?
Go into the process expecting to hear "no" most of the time. Use your experiences to learn more about pitching and more about the networks you are pitching to. Try to get as much experience as possible working on other shows.

22- How, if at all, do you think new platforms for animation such as on smart phones, ipads and the internet will change the future of the network development process? *NOTE: this Q & A dates from 2009.
At PBS, new platforms have already changed the development process from creating a series to to creating a multi-platform property. Certainly now there are more opportunities to get ideas seen in other media, and more opportunities to get experience. Eventually, there will be a number of creators who will be able to say they got their start on the web or on cell phones, but at this time, there aren't that many. There is something about those formats that emphasizes quick laughs over character development and storytelling, which are still the cornerstones of TV series.

23- How much effort have you made in building relationships and friendships with would be creators, and how important is it to do so?
I wouldn't call it an effort, as much as a positive side effect of working in the kids TV and animation industries. At this point, many of my friends are from the industry and we've become friends because we are interested in the same things. I wouldn't say I have attempted to befriend everyone I've worked with, but many of us spend a fair amount of time together, either on the phone or in meetings or at meals, and we've gotten to know each other pretty well. These relationships help because they allow us to be honest with each other. But these sorts of work friendships have to happen naturally.

24- How much effort do you put towards monitoring trends, fads, and other factors that might effect the sellability of shows? If so, how does this effect your network's development process?
At PBS, we do focus on different areas each year, but the changing directions tend to have more to do with what we feel we need to close programming gaps. We notice fads, but we don't have to do anything about them. As far as trends go, we've always been more interested in creating trends than following them. It's hard not to notice if several people are doing similar shows, but there's never any pressure to follow anyone else.

25-Can you estimate, in a year, how many pitches your network receives, options, and picks for pilot production?
We probably receive somewhere between 200 and 300 pitches per year. Only about 20% meet our criteria and get serious consideration, such as feedback. About 10-12 make it to the two final greenlighting rounds, and two to three shows per year go to series.

Animondays Interview: Linda Simensky -part I

2011-12-22T06:09:00.001-08:00

Pitching is on my mind these days because I'm prepping (along with my partners, The Levinson bros.) an original 5 min self-produced pilot and mini bible for use in a major round of pitching in January and February. Pitching is not for everyone, nor does it line up with everyone's goals for what they want to achieve or explore in the art and industry of animation. But, those that are curious about this interesting area may find this post useful.

Linda Simensky, PBS Kids VP of Children's Programming, was the first animation development executive I ever met. Level-headed, funny, and an expert in her field, she's been a trusted friend and mentor to me for almost two decades.

Simenksy's official bio:
In her role as VP of Children’s Programming, Linda Simensky collaborates with producers, co-production partners and distributors throughout development, production, post-production and broadcast for existing and new series including Curious George, Dinosaur Train, The Cat in the Hat Knows A Lot About That, Super Why!, Martha Speaks and Sid the Science Kid for PBS Kids, as well as WordGirl, The Electric Company and Wild Kratts for PBS Kids GO! Prior to joining PBS, Linda was SVP of Original Animation for Cartoon Network, where she oversaw the development and series production of The Powerpuff Girls, Dexter’s Laboratory, Samurai Jack, Courage the Cowardly Dog and other major projects. Linda began her career with a nine-year stint at Nickelodeon, where she helped build the animation department and launch such popular series as Rugrats, Doug and The Ren & Stimpy Show.

Without further ado, here's part 1 of my interview with Linda Simensky (pictured above and, below, in cartoon form from PBS Kids' WordGirl), conducted in 2009 for use in my book, and appearing here in it's entirety for the first time. Enjoy!

1-What do you think the most common frustrations creators have with the typical network pitching and development process?
I am lucky that in the course of my career, I've been able to work with a number of people who have done great work, and I've had shows and even pitches where the experience has been completely positive. Those moments come when the creator not only has a good idea, but understands the goals of whatever network I am working for. I, in turn, find it works best when I understand the goals and bigger vision of the creator I am working with. These moments are the ones that make a development job worth it.

On the other hand, there are certainly many times when pitches are painful -- boring, not interesting looking, or just wrong for us. But what I think the creators are feeling is just an overwhelming amount of stress. I have been taking pitches for a while now, in three different companies, and the experience is fairly consistent. The pitching process is fairly stressful for both sides! If you are on the network side, you have to walk into each pitch thinking "this might be our next show." I often sense that the creators are walking in thinking, "these people don't understand how great my project is going to be."

I always get the sense that creators and producers sense that we are holding information back -- that we know the answers or we know exactly what we are looking for and we're just not sharing it. I think they tend to have the sense that development executives are not being completely honest.

I also think that creators often feel that if they could just speak to the person in charge (if they are pitching to the rest of the department, for example,) that person would love the project and it would get picked up. Of course, a good project will generally excite anyone in the department.

Also, I think that creators sense the development executives get bored easily and are looking at their watches. This may be true some of the time. On the other hand, sometimes a minor crisis of some sort is unfolding, and then it's 2:00 and you are off to a pitch. It's impossible not to seem distracted and unfocused. Sometimes it helps to be honest about being distracted.

2-What, if anything, about this process would you change if you had the power to do so?
First, I'd find some way to make the process much less stressful. I used to joke that I was renaming the pitching process "come in and tell us about your idea," so it would sound less stressful. But the nature of the process is that it is stressful.

Also, many people who pitch are either not that great at representing their property, and many don't seem to know it well enough to make the pitch completely sound enticing. What creators can do is know their properties and be able to talk about them, rather than reading from the pitch or doing an unfocused pitch that doesn't really represent the idea. Give examples of how a show is funny, rather than saying it's going to be funny.

There are some other mistakes that creators and producers make when pitching:
- When you are pitching to a network, know what shows they produce and watch them before coming in.
- Don't think that your show needs to be exactly like the other shows on the network. They have those shows already.
- Don't insist that you know a network better than the executives sitting there. Maybe someone's trying to do something different.
- Don't tell me that other networks really like the idea and are interested. The pitching process is a lot like dating. So if you wanted to date someone, would you tell that person that many other people were interested in dating you? Or that you were interested in dating other people? Your goal is to convince the networks why your project is perfect for their network.

There are also some mistakes that executives make when taking pitches.
- Be as honest as possible. It is hard to say no, but I think most people would rather have an honest answer than to think the pitch was great and then get rejected.
- Don't act too self important. Someday, you might be on the other side of the desk, pitching to this person.
- Sometimes the pitch you are looking at isn't one you fall in love with, but perhaps this creator will be back with something better next time. You can offer feedback and/or encouragement, rather than just some terse comments.

3-What are some common problems you often see in show art in a pitch bible?
There usually isn't enough art. If you are pitching and you've only bothered to draw one drawing each of the main characters, that doesn't usually capture the feel of the show. And if the characters are posed for presentation or a character lineup, they can look pretty static. The optimum pitch, from my point of view, has rough art as well as finished art, and shows characters in a variety of situations or actions. If the show is meant to be humorous, the designs should convey that.

Many times, people will put badly drawn art in a bible. For those who do not have a background in designing characters for animation, consider hiring someone who does. The ability to illustrate is not the same as the ability to design for animation. And someone's ability to "draw just like a Disney animator" is not the same as actually being an animator. Unattractive, badly drawn or amateurish designs often ruin what otherwise might be a good idea.

4- What are some common problems you often see in plot synopsis's in a pitch bible?
Much of the time, there is too much written and it doesn't really tell much about the show. Try to be succinct, and most importantly, make sure it is an interesting read.

I always have a stack of pitches waiting, and I tend to read the shortest ones first. And if a pitch doesn't interest me right away, I don't always finish it. If a pitch isn't interesting to read, the show probably won't be much better. I should be hooked at the very beginning of the pitch.

Don't spend much of the pitch telling us how funny it will be, make it actually seem funny and that will go along way in convincing us you have the right tone.

5- What are some common problems you often see in character descriptions in a pitch bible?
Sometimes a great deal can be written about a character, and yet we still don't know much about this character. Sometimes, people have very little information about the character, othen that how funny they are going to be. Try to describe the character using terms that capture the character as if it were a real person. Make us believe this character is believable and interesting. If you want people to tune in every day to see what this character is doing, make us care about the character. When creators use very basic and bland terms to describe a character, you end up with a character who doesn't seem particularly interesting. If you need to practice, write a description of yourself, the way you'd want to be described. Most people have more than one or two character traits.

6- What are some common problems you often see in world/set-up descriptions in a pitch bible?
Creators often come up with very high concept ideas that are interesting in the pitch for a few minutes, and then just seem like they take time away from the more important parts of the shows. When someone pitches an idea where the world concept is highly stylized and everyone has names that are animals or plants or colors, I usually end up thinking that if I don't love the characters, I don't care how cleverly their world was constructed or how high their high concept was.

Sometimes a world just isn't believable and a creator's defense is often, " Well, this is my vision, in this world, dogs fly. That's how I see it." But there is often something missing or underdeveloped that makes you continue questioning the world.

7-For a first meeting with a creator, do you prefer to see a few of their ideas roughed out on two sheets before they go through the larger effort of creating a full pitch bible?
This tends to be a matter of personal preference. I prefer to see something at the very beginning, and at this point, I can tell people if the idea is interesting and a good fit for us.Then they can go back with some feedback and develop it a little more fully for us specifically. When people walk in with the foamcore-mounted characters or a finished pilot, I usually sense that they aren't open to much feedback. But on the other hand, it's very rare that someone walks in with something that works perfectly for us with no additional feedback.

8-How many pages should a pitch bible be?
I find that the initial pitch can be around five or six pages and that can include everything that I would need to see in a first draft. A typical pitch for PBS will end up fairly lengthy in the end since the show needs to be educational as well as entertaining, and the pitch also needs to be for all platforms, not just for television. But there is no need to communicate much more than the basics at first. These basics include the initial idea, the main characters, their world, the visuals, the curriculum, and five or six stories. In a final pitch, the curriculum document would be much longer, their would be an interactive/web plan and a list of advisors, as well as several other items, for example. But that just underscores the difference between a pitch for a series and a pitch that represents the idea across platforms.

9- How important is presentation in a pitch bible? For example, if the show is about furry green monsters, should the pitch bible be bound and covered in furry green fluff?
This is a matter of personal taste, I believe. I personally have no particular interest in how well the show is packaged if I don't fall in love with the basic idea. I have never picked up a show because it was packaged well for the pitch. I have wondered in some cases if the person behind the pitch might be better suited for a marketing job at times. But again, it is a matter of personal taste -- some people are driven by visuals to the point where the thought of sending something that wasn't cleverly packaged just seems wrong to them. But we tend not to pay much attention to the packaging, unless it makes the project unwieldy. (It's true, green fur doesn't file well...)

We have an ongoing joke about people who have their projects professionally bound at the printers, because the first thing we usually do is tear the binding off to have copies made.

If you want to put your time into something aesthetic, put it into making the artwork in the pitch as compelling as possible. If someone were pitching a show that had a comic book feel to it and they made the cover look like a comic book, or they did a few pages of a fake comic book that made me laugh, I'd be much more impressed.

10-Do you like to be thumbing through a pitch bible during a pitch meeting or is it a distraction?
It's a distraction to me to be thumbing through a pitch. I'd rather have someone just talk to me about the show. After all these years of taking pitches, I still have no idea if I am supposed to follow along with a pitch or not unless someone tells me specifically what I should do. It's different from pitch to pitch. The easiest for me is when someone brings art they can hold up, and then at the end, they hand out takeaway pitches for us to review.

11-What is the best way for a creator to present an animated pitch in a pitch meeting?
I prefer when someone comes in and can talk fluently about the show, can show artwork by holding up a bunch of examples, and can then capture the idea in the pitch they hand me to review. I also prefer smaller pitch meetings, as the conversation is usually better and more natural. What I hate most in a pitch meeting is when people read to me.

People usually want to know if they have to have some animation to show. They don't, but I can think of a few times when people walked in with some Flash animation that was pretty funny, and it certainly helped to get us excited about the idea. On the other hand, I can think of many more times where a weak demo killed the property for us right then.

12-How much of your development content is found or pitched to you at industry events such as MIPCOM or Kidscreen each year?
Many projects are pitched at these events, but few turn out to be right for us. I find events such as Kidscreen helpful for meeting people, but I find pitches at these events to be rushed and awkward. I find myself taking pitches from people who are not familiar with what we are looking for and are trying to pitch to as many people as possible.

In a typical pitch in my office, there would be some time to chat and learn more about the person pitching and for them to learn more about what we are looking for. The whole pitching process can be a little more relaxed, and more feedback can be shared. At Kidscreen, chances are that I am scheduled with back to back 15- and 30-minute pitches all day and after about the third or fourth pitch, my ability to concentrate is shot. At Kidscreen, I prefer taking pitches from people I'd have no chance to see during the rest of the year.

***Stay tuned for part II of my interview with Linda Simensky next week! Till then, Happy New Year!

Creativity and Writer's Block

2011-12-19T04:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight is the last day of my SVA Animation Careers class. This is the first time I've taught the class in the fall and it's been a real pleasure. In the past the only opportunity seniors had to take my class (which is a graduation requirement) was the Spring, smack in the middle of the mad rush to complete their thesis films. But whichever season the class hits, there's been one consistent variable among the students: a fear of writer's block. I get a lot of questions about that and it's a curious thing.

After the writers block questions flared up this term I asked the students, "How many of you have gotten ideas for future films you'd like to make as you've been working on your thesis films?" Every single hand in the room went up.

When you are being creative and in-process on something, ideas just seem to flow––ideas and solutions for what you're working on and stray bits of new ideas you'd like to explore in the future.

I've brought this up before, but I think I learned something about creativity by being the son of an Ad man. My dad would use his entire 4 hours-per-day commute to fill backs of envelopes and scraps of paper with scribbles of new campaigns, concepts, logos, etc. One doodle would lead to the next. But, he would have never gotten to the best stuff without having gone through that process. Quantity of ideas lead to quality. His job was just to put them all down on paper (as fast as his hand would allow) and with the understanding that the good ideas will stand out. Creativity and editing are separate stages. I think a lack of awareness in this area is what is confused with writer's block.

For example, I develop, write, and pitch proposals to networks each year, but I don't think I would be accomplishing that if I began development with my editorial hat on. To start that way would be saying, "What's the best possible idea I could think of?" That would be a sure way to kill creativity because it sets an impossible standard for any ideas to follow. A better beginning would be to ask your self: "What do I enjoy?," "What areas of interest of mine can I start with to get things flowing?"

After all is said, writer's block does exist--just ask Stephen King, who has used it as a central topic in many of his novels. No matter how comfortable we get in our brainstorm process, there will be times when we hit a wall. But, there's always options or exercises to help with that.

When I had trouble starting the storyboards for my latest film, I engaged Willy Hartland to do the storyboard (see one of Willy's original panels above), thus allowing me to focus my attention elsewhere. And, you know what? Being able to build off of what Willy did gave me the confidence to get started, even allowing me to take some of his sequences to the next level and reboard certain sections with new ideas once I figured out what I was doing. And, none of that is to fault what Willy did. I love his storyboard. But, just a like a creative brainstorm, a first storyboard is a conversation starter. Solutions and the right path to the finish emerge as you work. They don't come as easily (or at all) by staring at a blank page.

Fireworks

2011-12-12T04:46:00.000-08:00

I don’t know what I’ll be working on professionally, year-to-year, so the only way I know if my career is on track is by making sure I'll have new experiences. All of us get some degree of new experiences through the work we do for clients, but the most reliable source for new challenges is from creative works you generate your self.

Since 2007, I’ve amped up the regularity by which I’m making indie films (averaging about 1 every year-and-a-half), and these projects ensure that whatever happens in the economy or to our industry, I’ll make my own new experiences no matter what.

Films allow one to experiment with so many elements: the visual development that usually takes place at the beginning, the approach to the storytelling discovered in the storyboard, the pacing of the film established in the animatic, the style or design of the animation that emerges as you draw picture after picture, the audio styling that tells half your story and in ways that the visuals couldn’t alone, and the fabric that is all these elements stitched together in the final product. The indie short filmmaker has final say over all these ingredients–– there’s truly no other venue (as animation people) where that freedom exists.

Another thing I appreciate, is how these projects give us something positive and creative to occupy our thoughts. Sometimes while I’m walking, about to go to sleep for the night, or brushing my teeth, I’ll get an idea of how to restage my scene-in-progress, or a solution for a tricky camera move, or maybe hatch a new name for the film. In short, when you’re working on a personal film, there really is no time away from it. You’re always thinking about it, improving it in your mind, and forever going through the creative process. I find this to be a very addictive.

Once a film is done it’s like preparing to launch fireworks. Some are duds, and some explode to their full glory maybe even going beyond expectations. But, unlike fireworks, after a film burns through a two-year festival run, it still exists, building up a body of work for the filmmaker. Above and below are stills from my new short, which is only days away from completion. It’s almost time to aim it away from my face and light the fuse…

He Played it by Ear

2011-12-03T14:55:00.000-08:00

A still from "The Ballad of Archie Foley - he played it by ear," a 1995 film co-directed by Candy Kugel & Vincent Cafarelli.

I was very sorry to hear that Buzzco Associates, inc. co-founder Vincent Cafarelli died last week. Vinnie was one of those people that you assume will always be around. Passing away at the age of 81, his career spanned from the days of the theatrical short (Famous Studios) through the golden age of NY animated commercials in the 1950s and 60s, and concluding in the present era's botique studio of the Hubley's model.

I met Vinnie so many times over the years, going back to when I first attended an ASIFA-East board meeting at Buzzco in 1995. Vinnie didn't stick around for the meetings, but as he was heading out the door we always exchanged a few pleasant words. I was aware of his talent and reputation and I admired his warm and gentle disposition. In 1996 when I was on a layoff from Michael Sporn's studio, I officially interviewed at Buzzco where Vinnie and his studio partner, the friendly Candy Kugel, sat me down to check out my work. At the end of the interview, I asked if I could stick around to watch all their films, which they had compiled on a single video tape.

I had already seen at least two of their films at ASIFA festivals, but this was the first chance I had to see the full body of their work. I was blown away by the variety and quality of the shorts. I particularly loved the films "A Warm Reception in L.A." and "We Love It," both of which were tongue-in-cheek looks at what it's like being an artist working in a commercial field.

After the meeting, they invited me to stay for lunch and eat with their crew. For someone newish to the industry who was currently out of work, sitting down to a meal with the Buzzco family made me feel a little more hopeful, and a little less lonely before returning to my apartment to face the rest of my layoff. That was the shop that Vinnie and Candy built. A family atmosphere that happened to be professional animation folks churning out award-winning indie films and top-notch commercial assignments.

I had the pleasure of seeing Vinnie only two weeks ago at an Academy screening, where we chatted about Brooklyn. Vinnie lived in Cobble Hill near my wife's Aunt. I told Vinnie I was living in Brooklyn too and that my dad was from Brownsville and my mother from Canarsie. Vinnie said to Candy, who standing near by, "We have another Brooklyn boy here."

After I heard the news of Vinnie's passing, I kept thinking about Buzzco's 1995 film, "The Ballad of Archie Foley," which depicts the life of a gentle man who spent his days in the entertainment biz, albeit in the largely uncelebrated role of foley sound recording. How apt a metaphor for animation people who similarly toil behind the scenes in anonymity. Still, I think the majority of us wouldn't have it any other way. We speak through our drawings and our films, and through the people left behind that absorb that work and it's lessons.

Vincent Cafarelli has left behind a rich legacy and we are richer for having had him a part of NY Animation all these years. For a more detailed account of Vinnie's career be sure to visit Michael Sporn's post. My thoughts are with Vinnie's family, Buzzco's extended family, and with his partners' Candy Kugel and Marilyn Kraemer.

Magic Decade

2011-11-26T06:48:00.001-08:00

I don't think I'm unique in being fascinated by the time immediately before I was born. For me, that decade happens to be the fascinating and transformative 1960s, so that certainly doesn't hurt none. All my life, the 1960s have had a distinct pull for me from music to movies to history. Most importantly (on a personal level) it's when my parents met, married, and settled in Long Island where I was later born and raised.

Now my lifelong interest in that era has gone one step further in that I'm making a short documentary animated film about how my dad, Bob Levy, unexpectedly came to go to Cooper Union, graduating in 1961. Each day on this film connects me with that time, and with my family's history. It's an experience I'm relishing, and maybe that's why a film I wanted to be finished in a month is taking me four times that long.

Making personal films exploring family history, is allowing me to bridge gaps in my past and that of my ancestors. It's been said that you should write what you know, or do the research until you know what you write. As part of the research process, my dad and I turned his house upside down to find his artwork from the period so it can appear in the film at key moments. In one closet (as his three curious cats looked on) we stumbled upon some of his random creative and business projects from the early 1960s. There were original song lyrics (I had no idea he had tried to write songs), artifacts left over from a successful silkscreen printing business he co-owned and operated for two years, and a stack of cut-paper Christmas cards (images above and below) that he made but never got around to printing.

I thought it would be fun to share some of these designs here, especially with the holiday season just around the corner. Happy Holidays from one magic decade to another.

*all images © Robert S. Levy

PES by Numbers

2011-11-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

PES, photo courtesy of AWN.com.

Currently based in L.A., the stop-motion animator/director PES first established his career in NYC where he became an important fixture of the local indie animation scene. PES represented a new type of indie animator, one whose creativity and ambition was matched by his savvy in self-promotion utilizing new media. Just as Bill Plympton broke ground by tapping into new markets such as MTV and tournées like Spike and Mike in the late 80s and early 90s, in the new century PES became the darling of viral videos that spread via e-mails, his website, and later on YouTube.

I miss the guy and his energy, so today I thought I’d share PES’s complete essay written in 2005 for use my first book. Enjoy!

“I shot my first film when I was 25. It was live-action and it was a short film, precisely 48 seconds long. It was more like a commercial than a traditional short film, with fast-paced editing and a surprise ending.

I spent 700 dollars on it and called in lots of post-production favors. I had to figure it out from the ground up. I wrote it, directed it, produced it, cast it, did the costumes, built models to create my own effects in-camera and I even borrowed a 16 mm camera to shoot it. My goal was to discover, in a relatively low risk scenario, whether or not I enjoyed the process of making a film enough to continue doing it.

At the time I was working in a large advertising agency in New York City. It was my first job after college. I was a “creative assistant,” in other words, a glorified secretary to an ad executive on the creative side. This means I had gotten m y foot in the door in a fun place to work, but that was about it. I was at the bottom of the totem pole. My days were spent doing menial tasks like booking flights and making popcorn in the reception area. Stuff you could do with your eyes closed. But at least I was getting paid, and I had lots of time to devote to developing some of my own ideas.

The advertising agency was great for many things, one of which was RESOURCES. There were people, machines, tape stock -- anything and everything you could think of -- tens of thousands of dollars worth of goods and services.

Another interesting thing about being in the advertising agency creative department was that I was surrounded by creative content from all over the world: commercials, short films, music videos, print advertisements and posters. I looked at everything in my spare time and was definitely influenced by it. I was drawn to the short storytelling format of comm ercials. A simple idea, you’re in and you’re out. Leave a viewer with a thought, make them laugh, but more than anything: get their attention. Show them something they’ll never forget. The big lesson I learned from advertising is that short can be powerful.

After I made my first film (the 48 second “Dogs of War”) I promoted it to advertising press sources. I slapped a logo on the end and called it a “spec commercial,” a term used in advertising to refer to commercials that were not commissioned but are useful in getting a director paying work within the industry. The press sources ate my film up, even though it wasn’t a commissioned job.

Calls from agents and commercial production companies looking for up-and-coming directors started coming in: What else do you have? And when can I see it? What’s your next project? Can you send me your reel? Unfortunately I had only those 48 seconds to my name.

The title card from "Whittlin' Wood," demonstrates how the filmmaker's signature design sense makes it to every aspect of his work.

I planned my next films. The second was another live-action short film shot in a desert that could also function as a “spec commercial”. I called this idea “Whittlin’ Wood.” The third film was a little idea about two chairs that have sex on a New York City rooftop. It was to be an animation with objects. Two life-size chairs would need to move inch-by-inch on a real rooftop. I knew immediately had to quit my job in order to make these films because I would need lots of time to shoot the second one, “Roof Sex.” On top of that I had to teach myself how to animate.

I took out 8 credit cards and quit my job. This was a scary leap, but necessary for me. It was the moment I placed all my faith in my own ideas and myself.

I learned more about filmmaking in that year than any time at school could have taught me. I thought very hard about all my shots, and about how the films would play out. I considered many options for every scenario, choosing the ones that made the most sense to me. Since I was spending the only money I had access to, I had to make absolute sure both these films were good. A dud was out of the question. I never really believed in learning by making mistakes. My feeling was, if you think hard enough through an idea, and if you have a genuine feel for the medium, you can avoid simple pitfalls that a less-prepared filmmaker might make.

One of the reasons I was drawn to start making films in a shorter format was that I felt I could have a better chance of making a great film all-around, with fewer compromises than I might have been forced to make on a larger film (given the financial constraints I was working with). So very early on I decided that for me a great 1-minute film was going to be 100 times more valuable than a mediocre 5-minute film. I believed in the inherent value of great short content, especially in an increasingly internet-savvy world.

At the time I also wanted to get up and ru nning as a commercial director so that I could make money to finance future personal projects. Commercials were always how I planned on making my bread and butter. It was where the big money was, and I knew that from the very beginning. But aside from money, I knew commercials would be great for experimenting with techniques and equipment, working with A level Hollywood cinematographers and art directors, getting valuable experience directing large crews. As an added bonus, if you were lucky (and talented) you even might make something that gets absorbed into the bloodstream of popular culture. Above all, I felt commercials and music videos were a logical entrée to getting larger projects such as a feature off the ground sometime down the road.

Check out this still from Roof Sex. Anyone can drag some furniture on a roof, but how many can compose a shot like this? PES's cinematography paints the city scape as if he designed the buildings himself.

How/why I started doing animation
Now I went back to the drawing table. At this point I will remind you that I had only done one animated film, this was not my “thing” yet. I had made Roof Sex ® because it was funny and I loved the idea of furniture porn, not because I wanted to make an animated film. I taught myself how to animate because I had a clear vision for this film and I didn’t want anyone else to fuck it up. I had to do it myself in order to be 100% certain it was exactly how I wanted it. However, the process of creating Roof Sex was so exciting for me that it was like opening up a chamber in my brain stuffed with hundreds of ideas about objects and now I wanted to make them all. Like Steinback said, ‘First you have one rabbit. Then you have a hundred.”

Only thing was, that credit card debt was eating all my money and I had literally nothing to make my new films with. This turns out to have been the next critical juncture for me: I would start making the cheapest of these ideas first. I called up the armies of household objects, small stuff: peanuts, seashells, binder clips, and other assorted ≥ household objects. The more films I could make the better. I pushed myself. In no time I began to create several films with animated objects, some as short as 10 seconds. I was just following some of my ideas, within the realm of what I could afford to make. All this work was very experimental; I was really just playing around. Stop-motion animation just happened to be the best method for this crop of ideas, not the only type of film I ever wanted to make. But I persisted.

The next important decision I made was to create a website where my films could have a home. Sarah my girlfriend was key in this process. She learned basic html and we put it up ourselves in a couple of weeks. I called it EatPES.com, and I offered my films up for free. The idea was to do something simple, focusing on the work.
On my website I posted my short animations along with Roof Sex. “Roof Sex” drew thousands of people to my site instantly, sin ce it already had a life of its own.
Furniture Fornication as art, in "Roof Sex."

Traffic on my site began to climb over the following months, completely by word of mouth. People came to the site looking for “Roof Sex” and discovered a body of work, lots of ideas and executions. Films I had made 2 years before were now seen in the context of everything else I had made. This is very valuable to people out there because you suddenly leap from being a one hit wonder in the public’s eyes to an artist with a particular style and distinct point of view. This “fingerprint” is really the most valuable asset you have. It’s what makes people want to work with you.

On Film Festivals
Annecy 2002 is when my life started to change. Roof Sex took a top prize for BEST FIRST FILM at Annecy. Overnight it became one of the most talked about films in the world. When we returned home to NYC the fax machine was flooded with papers and my first instinct was, what the hell happened here. But i t turned out to be licensing agreements for “Roof Sex”: TV channels all over the world had seen Roof Sex at Annecy and wanted to run it on TV. Better yet, they were offering to pay. I was dazzled by the requests – there was a genuine desire out there for short content. It confirmed everything I had been feeling when I first decided that short and memorable was the way to go.

On Promotion
If you have something new to say, it’s only half the job to make it: you have to get it out there. Otherwise, you don’t give it a chance to have an impact and you lose out on the opportunity to experience any benefit the film may bring you. Promotion is a very important part of the equation.

This weird thing happens when people get familiar with your work. They think they know you. They talk about you on a first name basis. For better or for worse, people start seeing you as a kind of brand: your taste, the ideas you make, the way you tell a story, the pacing you set. This is your fingerprint. People latch onto your name as a symbol that stands for the combined identity of all these things. “Have you heard of this guy PES?” “Oh he’s the guy who did that Nike thing…” or “Oh, the chair guy…” "That’s very PES," stuff like that. I believe it’s very important for artists to carve out their identities in the marketplace, really develop a distinct voice. When someone who's not involved in film knows about you, they want to see your next films. These are the people who enjoy your films for sheer entertainment value. When advertising, music video, television, and film people know about you, they enjoy your films but they also keep you in mind for future commissioned projects. Unless you have a trust fund an/ or are happy getting paid outside the industry, this is valuable turf for you. Do not underestimate the value here. It’s only a matter of time before they bite.

So, after a couple of rollercoaster years of making films and promoting them in both the film and advertising industries, I finally got my opportunity to direct legitimate commissioned work. And this is working out great for me. It’s exactly as I thought it would be. Some projects are great and others are just so-so. But they all help finance my personal projects, which I rely on for my own artistic satisfaction. I haven’t had any terrible experiences with commercials so far. They are collaborations, and sometimes the creative compromises you make along the way (the client technically owns the film) are a bit depressing, but at the end of the day it’s just a commercial."

Animondays Interview: Signe Baumane -part II

2011-11-12T06:41:00.000-08:00

Above image from Signe Baumane's film, "The Gold of the Tigers."

Last week I presented part I of my interview with indie animator/director Signe Baumane. Today I'm pleased to share the 2nd and final installment in which Signe explains what sets indie animation apart from commercial animation, the difficulty she's had directing animators, and the painful (yet educational) act of sharing your work with an audience.

Notice how she honestly critiques her work in the answers below. I think that's an important thing to be able to do if one wants to grow as an artist. Not that one should act as their own reviewer, but not being satisfied with one's previous works, and understanding why, allows the artist to push forward and keep creating/exploring.

Without further ado, here's part II with Signe Baumane. Enjoy!

1-What part of directing animation gives you the most satisfaction?
Nothing, really, It is a lot of hard work, and I have no patience to see how drop by drop the bathtub gets full. I am not cut out for working in animation. I hate to work, but in animation all you get is work, work, work. Ironically, I am always in a rush to finish a film, because I want it finished yesterday, but once it's done, I immediately start a new film. Why? I think I should get my head examined.

Ok, there is one part of the process that makes it worthwhile––the excitement of conceiving the idea, having hopes that this is going to be the best project ever, living with my vision for months and months. Or years. But, inevitably, when it's done, it is a disappointment. It never is the best film ever. Maybe I work too fast? Maybe I don't invest enough time in thinking through minuscule details? But I can't. Working on something for too long kills me.

2-What methods have been the most effective in giving notes and feedback to your animators (assuming you do this)? And, what has not worked so well, and why?
I am not very good with working with animators. When I give them the task, we act the scene out, we play with it, have a great time and then the animator goes to work and when she comes back there is nothing left of what we acted out. The animators that I worked with always try to do some short cuts, give themselves slack and I dont know how to push them to work harder.

There were about 4 occasions in my experience of work with animators when an animator truly gave me her best. It was like flying, like sex. We experienced great unity, intimacy and feeling of conspiracy. Those were the cases when animators wanted to prove something, to me or to themselves or to a producer. Mainly, the animators I worked with, regard me either as a cash machine (they want me to accept the scene so that they get paid) or their adversary (because at times they don't believe in my vision and think my ideas suck). Then I feel very lonely, deserted, and can only trust that my concept will carry the story and I edit the shit out of the mediocre footage I got. Meaning, editing and timing the scenes is also part of the work of a director. Am I too hard on my animators? : )

It's all probably my fault...

3-Where did you learn your sense of timing, acting, staging, and storytelling that is so essential in directing animation?
I definitely was not born with it. I was very sloppy with timing, and ignorant, too. The day I watched my first film "The Witch and the Cow" with an audience, I was in pain, what a horrible film, what a torture to sit through those 2 minutes 40 seconds!

I decided to be better with my next film, but "Tiny Shoes" was too fast at times, too loaded with imagery for audience to understand everything I was trying to say. The next film "The Gold of the Tigers" was a directorial disaster, although I am still fond of the story. In short, constantly making a new film and watching it with an audience has been a great education for me.

But please note, I havent made a perfect film yet. It's surprising, because some people get it with their first film, but not me.
I have made about 14 or more short films and still am guessing how to do this right.

4- What has watching your films play to audience taught you, that you would not have discovered otherwise?
An audience can teach you a LOT. It's intuitive, visceral knowledge/learning that I can't quite describe.

It's not the laughs am going for, it's a reaction, "Veterinarian" sometimes got a very emotional reaction from an audience,
at times––indifferent, and at times––bored, restless. Even with such a different reaction I can see where I failed to communicate the emotion, the message, and where I've succeeded. The mistake that some of us, indie animators make, is
that we think if audience doesnt laugh they are bored. So, just like standup comedians, we work for laughs every 10 seconds
in fear of boring the audience.

But a laugh is only one kind of reaction and if you make them laugh every 10 seconds you might forget about building a character, making your story more meaningful, connecting with your audience in a different way. Not making them laugh every 10 seconds is taking a risk. With "Veterinarian" and "Birth" I took that risk, and YES it's painful for me to sit though those films with an audience, because I am never sure how they are going to react, they get very quiet sometimes and I am not sure if it is a good quiet or bad bored quiet. But each time I sit with the audience, I learn so much about filmmaking, my own filmmaking,
that I could never learn anywhere else. Education is painful.

The audience rules. Unlike some filmmakers who claim that the audience doesn't matter to them, I make films to connect with people (imagine you are telling a good story or a joke in an empty room, what's the purpose of that?).

Above images from "Birth," and "Veterinarian."

5-What advice do you have for someone just starting out in animation with ambitions to make their own indie animated films?
Low overhead is the key for a successful career as an independent artist, be that an animator or a painter. People who buy cars or houses or have demanding girlfriends (they demand diamonds, you know) or have expensive habits (like heroin, fancy restaurants, etc.) have a hard time staying independent. Be modest with your budget. On the other hand, dont be modest about your ambition, goals and dreams. Dream BIG. But preserve your resources.

6- What is your secret to sticking with an indie film through to completion?
Passion. The story I want to tell. Ambition. The need to have a project. The irritation of something hanging around not finished.
DRIVE.

It is a kind of character I have. I see that other people have other kinds of character and they dont have a burning need to finish anything. It's not good or bad. It's just the way we are.

7-What indie animation blogs do you visit most often and why?
I don't, really. Cartoon Brew probably is the most visited site by me and that's once in 4 months. ASIFA-East site and blogs - once in 5 months. AWN - once in 6 months. I am just too busy, juggling work for money, sending my films to festivals, trying to work on my next project, seeing work of other people, replying to emails, staying informed about animation, politics, keeping up with my personal life and friends, I have to shower sometimes and eat, too.

I dont have time for Facebook, Twitter or other excitements, I am basically overwhelmed the moment I wake up and open my emails.

8-How do you develop an original voice as an indie animation director in a world where your influences are all around you?
I think, one must have to have bad memory. My memory is so bad, I cant remember anything, so when I create something, it's coming from inside of me rather than from something I've seen. I also never studied animation nor art, so I dont know how to do things correctly, by the book. That is a HUGE help in staying original.

Another thing -develop yourself as a person, find out who you really are and what interests you. That involves reading a lot of books (on philosophy and politics), and thinking about things that are around you, form an opinion about anything you see or observe. Originality comes from inside, it cant be taught in school, it takes developing yourself, working on your Eternal Soul.

9- What is it about the properties of animation that are unique to this medium and how should those be utilized when making an indie animated film?
Animation is a very condensed medium, you can tell a story in 1 minute that in live action would take an hour. Animation is a perfect medium for expressing abstract ideas, to play with meaning of words, cultural references, and many other things. Animation doesnt require a language (dialogue, voiceover) to communicate an idea or a story.

The way that TV or feature animation uses animation as a medium is a little bit realistic and dialogue driven. Indie animation, on the other hand, if it doesnt try to imitate TV or features, tends to use animation for what it is best at - expressing one's soul, unique artistic vision, abstract ideas, and pure fun of doing things that are not possible in live action.

Animondays Interview: Signe Baumane -part I

2011-11-04T12:23:00.000-07:00

*above photo of Signe Baumane taken by Katz.

The longer I've known indie animation director/filmmaker Signe Baumane, the more I've admired, respected, and appreciated her both as an artist and a human being. She's genuinely interested in what others are doing, and always sincere and honest in her critiques.

When I met Signe in the late 1990s, she was working for Bill Plympton, supervising his ink & paint assistants. While that period was where she built her NYC indie-scene cred, in my opinion, she hit her stride later with the sensational and personal series of shorts under the title Teat Beat of Sex. This was Signe at her most confessional, direct, and uncensored, and I think it's some of the finest and most powerful animated filmmaking ever done. Today, the director is at work on an indie animated feature film, "Rocks in my Pocket," and she's documenting her journey in fascinating posts on her blog.

I interviewed Signe in 2009 (for use in my "Directing Animation" book), and her answers were among the most useful and insightful. I'm happy to feature the part I of the interview on today's post. Enjoy!
A drawing from Signe's feature-in-progress.

1-What skill sets go into directing animation for your own independent film?
For me the most important work of a director, be that a director of animated short, feature, live action etc. is organizing the time of the film, structuring the visual material with the help of timing. Is that a skill? I dont know. It might be a talent.

Quite often you see films that have great design, great concept, but something is missing, when you look closer, there is something wrong with the timing, it's either they give too much or too little time to visuals, usually too much,
and they forgot about pacing, it is too even. Change of pace is crucial.

The director is the one with the vision, and she/he has to carry this vision into the reality. You could say, a writer has a vision, too. But the writer doesnt struggle to bring the story out into reality in full, it does stay in her/his head and on the paper if she/he writes it.

In any case, as in indie animator, since I alone write, design, animate, direct my own films it took me a long time time to understand what directing really is. ASIFA-East judging nights really helped me: the independent films are judged by animation, writing/humor, directing, design, sound.

You have to really think which is what and how to judge it. I think it is a GREAT exercise, when I teach animation, I make my students to do the same thing.

2-How important is it to have worked in animation in other roles before being ready to direct?
No, not really. I mean, it doesnt hurt, but I think you dont need it. Although, lets say, if I was about to direct a feature film that 23 animators are going to animate in Flash and I don't know Flash (I am serious, I still don't know Flash and am proud of it) then, I personally, would drop any prejudices and learn Flash as soon as I can, so I would be able to communicate with my team.

In Latvia, where my "Veterinarian" was animated by 8 animators, I would see some of the animators trace, for example, a hand moving across the screen, it looked like a cut-out, so I confronted the animator, and she said, "No, I did not trace, I animated."

I said, "In that case, did you flip?"

Judging from the smooth, untouched paper edges, she did not flip.

She swore by her poor mother's health that she flips. What I was to say to that? I took the scene and animated the freaking hand myself during the night. Which is NOT a good example of what a director should do. It would have been so much better if I did not know how to animate and made the animator to do what I wanted her to do by persuasion or threats. I am too much of a wuss to push people around, that's why prefer to work on my own.

3- Who are your indie animation hereos and what has their work taught you?
Well, Bill Plympton, of course. He gives us a great example of how an independent animator can be independent and successful.
We all think, I can do it too. But no, we can't. It's impossible to do what Bill does. We all have our different path. But in any case, Bill does set a Golden Standard for indie animators. He is the North Star, a guide in the night. A beam of a hope. An encouragement to jump out of window and try to fly (I have seen people so inspired by Bill that they did something equal to jumping out of a window).

When I met Bill in 1995, I had done 3 films in Latvia, on government grants, in a studio, where I had animators, painters, cameramen and a producer to pout at if something went wrong. Bills taught me that you can do it all yourself and he taught me not to pout when things go wrong.

4-Can you list some common mistakes and challenges that are faced by the first time indie animation director?
First, and the most important challenge of a first time filmmaker is that she or he cannot imagine how the movie in their head is going to come out into the reality and how the audience is going to understand the story. The fragile, fleeting images that you conceived, they look so crude and inept when drawn on paper or in computer. You have been waiting for so long, excited to draw what you had in mind but all of sudden you stop, disappointed and frustrated. You're right––the drawings are terrible, but please keep going, because only by confronting the reality and overcoming your limitations can you grow as an artist. You don't become an artist just by dreaming about it.

The first time filmmakers sometimes can't see what is most important and what is not and they get very stubborn about totally stupid things, like: "I am not going to change the design of the horse, because that's the horse I've drawn!" Unfortunately, the horse looks like a dog and is easily confused with this other dog in the film and it is essential for the punchline that we understand the difference between the horse and the dog.

Sometimes, first time filmmakers borrows from their teacher or people they admire. They try to imitate Bill Plympton or Simpsons or anime or what not. It is not going to get them very far. Because we already have Bill Plymton, Simpsons, anime and what not.

Develop your unique voice, find your own story.

Actually, I believe that a story has to come out of necessity, a need to tell it. There should be some intense fire it it for you to do it.

First time filmmakers sometimes conceive totally complicated stories and try to squeeze them in 3 minutes, and then everything happens so fast that an audience is lost and confused.

First time filmmakers sometimes try to tell one little punchline for 3 minutes, taking it so slow that those 3 minutes turn into 3 hours.

First time filmmakers sometimes create an absolute work of perfection, I have seen it again and again and again.

5-What are the ingredients of a good production pipeline, process, and schedule? And, what role does this have on an indie production where there are not necessicarily any rules?
I don't know what are the ingredients, unless it is a good organization when everybody knows their place and work that has to be done, and files are easy to access and oversee.

In indie production is the same thing: good organization even if you work alone or with 2 people.

6-In your indie films, in what areas have you sought out collaboration with other creative people and why?
I used to like to work with camera men although everybody hated them. I thought, they educated me on how things are done under camera. Now, of course, this knowledge is useless.

I love working with sound designers. I am a control freak and I think it is good to break up your instincts and inclinations a little bit, so my collaboration with a sound designer gets things out of my hands, I let it go and I like it. It always comes out well, too.

A composer is crucial for a project.

A producer, too. Without a producer my "Teat Beat of Sex" would have never had happened. Or maybe it would, but not all 15 episodes.

A still from a Teat Beat of Sex short.

7-Is there a secret to good communication with your collaborators?
Be nice, but remember what you want.

I actually don't know a secret to good communication with my collaborators. If they are nice, I am lucky. If they decide to push me around, or deliver bad stuff and claim its the best they can do, I cry and then I slip away in the night. I dont really have a good character for bossing people around or dealing with bullies. It destroys me, to do that.

But, a collaborator, just like a dog, has to know who is the boss and you have to let her/him know this is your project and you are making the final decisions. Once, a sound designer aspired to direct my film that was already shot, he kept suggesting changes, funny, to his opinion, gags. I kept laughing it off but it didnt end well. We are not on speaking terms.

I am not on speaking terms with another collaborator, a co-director, the production part was all fun, we enjoyed each other's creativity it was wonderful ... till the festivals came and we had to share a spotlight. Then it turned out, there was only one director of the film according to my co-director, and it wasnt me.

Since that day I strongly advise not to co-direct anything with anybody unless it is your brother, sister or wife or husband.

8-What creative mistakes have you made as an indie director and what have they taught you?
Oh, endless mistakes! SO many I cant even count!!!!!! Each of my films is full of mistakes like a sick cat with flies. It is painful to sit through my films with an audience, but I make myself do that because that is the only way I can internalize what went wrong and why.

But big mistakes? Like choosing sex as one of the subjects? : )

NO, I dont regret that, but I advise my fellow indie filmmakers not to get carried away with the subject of sex. It only looks hot,
but causes major sufferings (no one wants my sex films, they are so hard to sell, even "Teat Beat of Sex" with the huge festival
success, hasn't gotten a distributor).

9-How is technology changing today's indie animation process?
I love working with computers! I was probably the last one in the industry to shoot on film (I shot "Dentist" on 35 mm in 2005).
But once I went digital (although not completely, I still do drawings by hand on paper, I love that handmade look) I don't think I'll ever go back. Computers allow me to work with timing, color and many other things till I can't improve them anymore (at one point you have to stop working on a project even if it's not perfect, there is always another project to work on!).

I like that more and more people make animated films, (computers make it easy for everyone) because people who normally wouldnt know much about animation now are the experts! The animation field is growing, i think there are endless possibilities there!

Partners in Crime: Bill Plympton and Signe Baumane hawking their wares at MoCCA Fest. Photo by Liza Donnelly

10-Do indie animation directors get stereotyped as comedy or action or etc? And, if so, does that have a negative impact on one's industry career? And, what can be done about it?
Every time I show up at a festival for a Q&A people tell me that my work is just like Bill Plympton's. I always get upset, because it isn't. Bill doesnt do the kind of films I do. It turns out, Pat Smith gets the same reaction. And he gets upset, too.

Then, one day, I was talking to George Griffin and I told him how people think my work is just like Bill's, and George laughed and laughed and he said that he put his "Club" (his film where all the members of a club are penises) on Atom Films and a few comments he got were something like this: "Oh, this guy is just ripping off Bill Plympton!" or: "This is nothing new, looks just like Bill Plympton." In fact, "Club" was made in 1978 when Bill was not making animated films yet. Indie animation gets stereotyped as "Bill Plympton," because that is what audience knows is indie animation, because Bill is so well known like none of us will ever be.

So, is it a good or bad thing to be typecast as another Bill Plympton? I gave it a thought and came to conclusion, that it is a great thing, because it shows that Bill carved a niche for all of us.

As to indie animation getting stereotyped as comedy or artsy stuff––not sure if I ever felt that.

*Stay tuned for part II of this interview (coming next week, I promise)!

Make Mine Not Music

2011-10-31T05:21:00.000-07:00

One topic I’ve covered (maybe too infrequently) on this blog is the idea of that you have to be your own advocate and look out for your needs.

I played clarinet in grammar school (for reasons I still don’t understand.) Maybe it was simply for a change of pace from playing with Legos. But, this exercise in futility caught up with me in Jr. High, because one could only take either band or art, not both. Sticking with my obligation I didn’t have any art classes for 7th and 8th grade. By 9th grade it was finally clear to me just how stupid that was. So, I asked my guidance counselor what I’d have to do to drop band to take make room for art class. All I needed was the band teacher’s signature. Not so tough, right?

When I showed up in his office with the form in hand, he took one look at it and winced. “I don’t have to sign that,” he said, before asking me why I wanted to quit band.

“Because as long as I’m taking band, they won’t let me take art. Art is important to me.”

He reminded that band is just as important. So I told him that I was going to have a career in art, not music.

That didn’t change his mind. He still wouldn’t sign it.

So, I shot him.

Okay, that’s not true, but I did come up with this snappy answer, telling him:
“I’ll be back in your office every day until you sign this paper.”

Threatening him with my steady company must have done the trick because he snatched the paper out of my hand, signed it, and told me to get out. I left with the paper and a first victory in being my own advocate.

It would be nice to say that from that point on in my life and career that I never missed an opportunity to be my own advocate, but that would be a lie.

For instance, my first two layoffs in the business caught me by surprise because I had nothing else lined up. Don’t get me wrong, you can’t always have work lined up, but you can always have ready “connections” to other work. In this area “being my own advocate” took the shape of joining ASIFA-East, which allowed me to network with other animation folks––something that has a way of generating opportunity on both sides of the relationship. Even embarking on personal creative projects is a form of being your own advocate because it’s self-development. So this “advocate” concept encompasses a lot: from sticking up for yourself and your needs, to taking all career-enhancing matters into your own hands.

Otherwise, you might end up playing the clarinet when you’d rather be holding a paintbrush.

A Tri-Lev Production

2011-10-22T09:46:00.000-07:00

Standing are my co-creators, Stephen Levinson and Joel Moss Levinson, with Peter Levin at the controls, as we record an actor at NYC's Splash Studios. Photo taken by me.

How many Levites does it take to create a self-funded and self-produced animated pilot? It turns out, the answer is three. In the summer of 2010 I was on a animation development panel for the NYTVF and sitting in the audience was a very alert Stephen Levinson. A comedy writer working by day on Comedy Central's Website, Stephen had been producing animated cartoons (with his brother Joel) for a Jewish online magazine called Tablet.

After the panel, Stephen got in touch with me to show me a pilot he and his brother had created for pitching purposes. Featuring the voice talent of comedian Jonathan Katz along with the brothers sharp writing, I thought the project was terrific. But, while the brothers were in the process of pitching it around, they began to get antsy to develop another project. Over Skype (Joel lives in Los Angeles) we brainstormed a raw idea and very quickly started to see its potential. There and then we agreed to work together to not just develop this germ into a pitch, but to focus our energies on making our own pilot film.

Making a film as pitching tool is a double edged sword. On the negative column it's sometimes better to let execs imagine how great your project can be instead of showing something tangible that doesn't live up to the expectation. Additionally, it takes a ton of time and effort to make a finished film, so going down this path ensures you won't quickly get to market. But, on the plus side, in this day of viral video, a film can be posted online and grow its own fan base. To put it in other words, nobody is logging on to the internet to read pitch bibles. A pitch bible is not alive. Films are. A pitch bible tries to hint at execution, while a film is execution. Not only that, a hot viral video proves itself in "hit" counts, something that can be a valuable asset to generate interest with a network. Lastly, making a film is simply fun, exciting, and satisfying. Not only will our film by alive, it will exist in three ways: a pitch tool at meetings, a viral video, and a festival film (probably only in children's film festivals or specific categories, but nonetheless).

We started our pilot in ernest on December 2010. Stephen did the lion's share of the script writing, Joel (a gifted singer/songwriter) wrote 3 original songs and provided sound design, and I designed the characters and their world. But, while we each had a clear role, we all had a say in improving each other's work. Once we had a lock on the script, voice records began on both coasts. Among our stellar cast are two terrific and well-known comedians from TV and movies, both of whom worked for spec. After ironing out all the character designs, I enlisted the animation veteran Otis Brayboy to make story sketches from which it would make my job easier to create a storyboard/animatic. My friend and frequent collaborator, Adrian Urquidez, painted all the backgrounds.

Our 8-minute film was animated by three of my favorite animators: Dale Clowdis, Mike Sanchez, and Dayna Gonzalez. As the animation director, I didn't do the animation myself, but I did the next best thing by designing all the puppeted pieces to make up each character rotation. While we're employing puppeted-style animation, all the art was drawn by hand, giving it a lot more warmth and looseness than a typical "Flash-based" children's show. The animators did a terrific job, going well beyond our expectations.

Less than a year after starting from scratch, we're now a week away from finishing the animation! We can't wait to take it on the road and post it online. Between the three of us we have a lot of network connections and we aim to work just as hard to sell our series as we did to make this film. Stephen, Joel, and I each brought our A-game, and I believe we brought it out in each other. It was the perfect collaboration because each of us had a key area of expertise, helping to define our respective roles. That's a good way to choose partners. Each should bring a major element to the table that the other is lacking.

The world of pitching can truly suck (for lack of a better word). Anyone who has a pitched a project even one time knows what I mean. But, the magic part is that through your efforts you're giving yourself permission to develop your talents, create freely, and earn your seat at the table. Ironically, the negative side to pitching is also a positive, in how it tests your passion, commitment, and skill sets.

Stay tuned for the final product, coming soon!

Animondays Interview: Rob Renzetti -part II

2011-10-17T05:28:00.000-07:00

*graphic above from: http://boing.libsyn.com/boing_9_rob_renzetti_interview

Finally, here's part II of my interview with animation creator/director Rob Renzetti. This was conducted in 2009 for use in my book, Directing Animation. It's fun timing to share this right now because I just spent the better part of the weekend sharing a booth with Bill Plympton at NYC's Comicon. It was really gratifying to connect with some of my readers and learn that my books have been helpful to them. In particular, Your Career in Animation, seems to be a gateway book that a lot of animation artists pass through on their way into the business.

In the spirit of sharing, here's the "directing specific" interview with Rob Renzetti. You'll notice it's not as personal as part I, and that's because of being on deadline and having to interview dozens of directors at once. But, there's still good information below. Enjoy!

1-What skill sets go into directing animation for a television series? And, is it important to have worked in animation in other roles before being ready to direct?
The most important experience is to have done some actual animation. Not a lot. But suffering through a few short films will give any aspiring timing director a much better sense of how long (in terms of frames) it takes for actions and expressions to “read”.

Also working as a storyboard artist will help since storyboards are intrinsically linked with animation direction (at least in television animation).

2-What role does good people skills have in being a successful TV animation director?
If you are strictly doing timing you can hide in your room all day if you like and talk to no one. Of course, this would not bode well for your future employment. The more you are involved with other aspects of the production process the more people skills you will need.

3-Can you list some common mistakes and challenges that are faced by the first time animation director?
The biggest challenge is to get the cartoon to run in your head. You have to visualize the final animated project.

The biggest mistake is playing things too slowly. Inevitably the work print will come back and things will be dragging. You quickly learn to push things faster.

4-What are the ingredients of a good production pipeline, process, and schedule? And, what role does an animation director have in setting that up and maintaining it?
Unless the director is also the creator of the production he will have very little role in setting up the production pipeline. A good pipeline leaves room for the inevitable delays, missteps and mistakes. Put some padding in every step of the way. Not a ton but a little. Want to fail? Then assume everything will go according to plan and leave no room for error. You will end up paying people to sit around waiting for others to catch up.

5-Is there a secret to good communication up and down the animation pipeline? What role does the animation director play in that?
This really falls to the line producer and production staff as well as the show creator. The main thing is too check in with your artists on a regular basis, make sure they are on task and on schedule and catch problems before they have a chance to fester for weeks and snowball out of your control.

6-What mistakes have you made as a director and what have they taught you?
Well, I used to time things too slowly when I first started as mentioned above. I also could get lost in the details of timing each little action without looking at the bigger picture, meaning the overall pacing of a sequence or of the entire cartoon. When the storyboard is strong this tends to happen less. A strong board will give you a strong indication of how to pace things. Ironically a crappy board is easy to work with as well. It’s obvious things aren’t working and you can go to the creator and suggests changes to strengthen it. I’ve been lucky enough to work with people who trust my sensibilities and value my input. A mediocre board is the toughest to work with because some things are working, maybe every sequence is working, but it doesn’t add up to a satisfying whole. But when you are lost in the details of each scene it’s easy to miss the fact that it just doesn’t add up to a good cartoon. You have to take the time to step back and look at the whole package before diving into the minutia.

7-What is the animation director's role in regards to collaborating with other departments such as storyboard, design, post production, etc?
A director will work most closely with the storyboard artists. In an ideal setup this is a two way street. The director will want to make sure that he or she is understanding what the board artists had in mind and the board artist will be open to changing things if the director needs adjustments for either technical or creative reasons. Having the board artists pitch to the crew is really helpful for directors in terms of getting the rhythm the board artists imagined for each sequence. Some directors take on post production responsibilities as well and may be involved in calling retakes, editing and spotting music & sfx.

8-What are the typical daily duties of an animation director on a TV series or feature production?
I can only speak about TV since I’ve never worked in features. Usually you are spending your time either slugging a board or doing x-sheets. If the show does animatics you will be involved in that as well. In all these tasks you are making timing decisions. Deciding about the overall pacing of the cartoon in the broadest strokes and determining the amount of time for the minutest of actions.

9-How is technology changing the way today's animation directors work?
In my own personal experience, new technology has not had a lot of impact except in terms of editing. Digital editing is a completely different experience than editing on film. You can do so much to adjust the rhythm of the picture. Creating holds where none existed, speeding actions up, slowing them down or even reversing them. It gives you an amazing amount of flexibility and saves so much money in retake costs.

10-Is your directing role and responsibilities different depending on whether you are directing an in house production or an outsourced one?
Almost all TV programming is actually animated overseas. The only exception for me has been Foster’s which was animated in Flash at CN Studios. Having the animators in house (and speaking English) was an amazing luxury. I was able to preview scenes before they were complete, make adjustments before we would get to the official retake session and when we did call retakes I could just walk over to the retake supervisor if there was any confusion or something too complicated to explain in a retake note. It was heaven.

11-How did you get your first opportunity to direct?
I was a storyboard artist on 2 Stupid Dogs and during the second season the creator Donovan Cook gave me the opportunity to direct the episodes I had boarded. So I would board an episode and then follow myself up directing it. I even had the chance to animate a scene or two along the way!

12- Since becoming an animation director, have you worked on projects or jobs where you filled other positions such as storyboards, design, layout etc?
I’ve probably done more directing than anything else but I have continued to do storyboards here and there as well as write outlines and scripts. On my own show I did a little bit of everything of course.

13- Do animation directors get stereotyped as comedy or action?
I have not ever felt stereotyped. I have mostly worked in what I would call classic cartoon comedy but I’ve also worked on action when I directed on Samurai Jack and prime time sitcoms like Family Guy.

14-What part of directing animation gives you the most satisfaction?
When you are watching a finished cartoon with an audience and they laugh at something that is funny purely because of the way you have timed that scene. I gives you the idea that you might know what you are doing.

15-Where did you learn your sense of timing, acting, staging, and storytelling that is so essential in directing animation?
As a consumer of pop culture, I think I mostly just acquired it through osmosis. You watch or read things that you find funny and as you grow up it all kind accumulates in your head, mixes in with your own experiences and your particular perspective on the world. If you’re a smart ass like I was, you start trying to make your family and friends laugh, you start acting up in class. You see what works and what doesn’t and you adjust. If you’re an artist you also start drawing for yourself and for the praise it garners from others. You start telling stories with your pictures. I also did a brief stint of acting in high school. Doing the same play 3 or 4 times for different audiences and adjusting your performance is a great way to hone your sense of timing.

16- After directing, what is the next goal you'd like to achieve in your career in animation?
I always wanted to have my own show and I was lucky enough to already have that dream come true. Right now I’m just enjoying helping other young artists get their chance at making their characters come to life.

17-What advice do you have for someone just starting out in animation with ambitions to direct?
If you can go to an art school hopefully one with an animation program and actually do some animation! As I said, this is the best possible training you can get.

Full Lessons from Part Time Jobs

2011-10-09T11:33:00.000-07:00

I should get my computer back early this week, so my apologies for another week's delay in the posting of part II of the Rob Renzetti interview. For this post I cooked up something else.

When animation graduates first embark on their careers, many of them don't have much (or any) animation work experience to list on their resumes. I had a small handful of animation freelance jobs when I completed my degree at SVA, but, the majority of my work history was in non-animation related industries. As an employer myself, these days, I see any work history as being a major plus. You can learn so much working at any job, whether it's folding clothes, standing at a cash register, taking tickets at a movie theater, etc. The people that never had any working experience are the people I'd be adverse to hiring. Without a work history, there would be no proof that someone could hold down a job and understand what it means to be responsible for delivering a service (on deadline) for pay. And, without a work history, there would be no references for an employer to follow up on.

I also appreciate the lessons I learned by working outside the animation industry. People skills translate across all businesses, so I'm especially grateful that I had a lot of varied experiences that taught me all kinds of things. Here's a short round up of what I'm talking about:

Phone Soliciting
For 6 months I worked for a chimney cleaning company who's main method of landing new business was through cold calls to the unsuspecting public. The hourly wage was minimal, but the real money was to made in sales-based bonuses. All new employees were given a 10 day grace period to get the hang of salesmanship, but if they had no sales after that, they were let go. I had zero sales for my first 9 days, and as I started the final day my boss reminded me what was at stake. But, instead of getting increasingly nervous, for some reason, I got calm. Working the phones in a relaxed state for the first time in two weeks I must have projected something different because that day I made five sales. The company average for a decent salesperson was 3 sales a day, so my boss was pretty shocked at my recovery.

The lessons learned? Calm is better than a state of panic, and you have to get comfortable with yourself before you could become a convincing salesperson.

Data Entry
My dad's college buddy had a small Ad Agency which he launched with an account executive partner. On the side, to help pay the bills, they provided data entry services for a client that held a sweepstake. For a small hourly wage they had someone entering customer contest data on a spare computer. Before they hired me, they had a parade of untrustworthy people who stole from them before getting fired. Plus they were all slow as molasses at entering the data. I was fast at my job and trustworthy enough to also handle company bank deposits as a side duty. After four months of working for them for two days a week, I decided to ask for a raise.

The response? "You'd have to go even faster to earn a raise."

Knowing I was their fastest employee already, that sounded silly to me.

I asked, "But, what about the additional things I do around here, such as the bank deposits?"

That didn't sway their opinion either, and they simply stopped asking me to do the bank deposits after that. I finished the job, logging in two more months before there was no more data to enter.

The lesson learned? The most likely raises are the ones you don't have to ask for. Since then most of the raises I've had in animation were when I was promoted, which is a production's way of giving a reward for hard work and acknowledging an increase in responsibility. In contrast, the data entry job already paid me to the point they were comfortable paying, regardless of how fast or trusted I was. Still, it felt good asking. It doesn't hurt to ask if you have a case to be made.

Publisher's Clearing House
By my junior and senior years at school, homework kept me so busy that I only worked part time jobs in the winter and summer breaks. Publisher's Clearing House had a large operation to sort mail (sweep stakes and subscription services) not too far from where I lived on Long Island, and since they liked hiring people for work periods as short as four weeks, it was a good fit all round. The only hiccup happened when a silly payroll mistake (on their end) resulted in my second, and third checks not being issued. Not only did they not pay me two weeks in a row, they seemed very cavalier about fixing it. So, I after I complained to every manager in the place, I told them that they could find me in the cafeteria reading a book on company time. After about two hours, someone managed to draft up a check, and I returned to work.

The lesson learned? When the powers that be don't pay you and don't seem to care, get creative in return. Now, as a producer/virtual studio operator, sometimes the missing money effects not only me, but my crew. Thank goodness I don't usually experience such issues, but twice in the last two years I had to speak up about payment interruptions. While you don't want to risk hurting the relationships that get you work, getting paid in a reasonable amount of time is part of the exchange of work for pay. That said, I try to be reasonable in my response even when dealing with the worst case scenario. "Try" is the key word.

A Short Break

2011-10-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

I was all set to feature the second part of my interview with Rob Renzetti, but my computer had other plans and is currently vacationing at an Apple Store genius bar for repairs. I'll take my lead from the universe and take a break from posting this week. See ya next Monday!

Animondays Interview: Rob Renzetti -part I

2011-09-23T12:12:00.000-07:00

One day in 2003, Nickelodeon ran a marathon of their newish series My Life as a Teenage Robot, which was created by Rob Renzetti and had its origin as a short in Frederator's Oh Yeah! Cartoons anthology shorts program. I left the channel on that day, thinking it would be wallpaper as I went about my weekend business, but after a bit of time the show captured my attention to the degree that I popped a tape into my VCR and hit record.

Renzetti's series felt like another in the line of Cal Arts-meets-UPA-inspired creations that had been the rage since the mid-90s series, Dexter's Laboratory. This was no accident because the creator had been a key figure in this new wave of animation that began with Hanna-Barbera's 2 Stupid Dogs through The Powerpuff Girls. As much as My Life as a Teenage Robot was a stylistic continuation of these shows, it brought an art deco and 1930s animation bent into the mix. I was intrigued by the combination and wanted to learn more about the series and its originator.

With Fred Seibert's help, I got in touch with Renzetti and he agreed to the following interview. We didn't meet in person until some six months later when I made my first trip to L.A., where he generously gave me and my friend, fellow animator Dale Clowdis, a tour of the Nickelodeon's Burbank Animation studio. Renzetti is definitely one of the good guys of this biz.

I hope you enjoy this interview, first published in the November 2003 ASIFA-East newsletter, and now making its debut online. Next week, I'll present part II in which I interviewed Renzetti again in 2009 for use in my book Directing Animation.

DL-Describe your background prior and up to your first work at Cartoon Network on such shows as The Powerpuff Girls.
RR- I grew up in Addison, Illinois. A suburb about a half-hour west of Chicago. I graduated as an Art History major from the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana. I went on as a film major at Columbia College in Chicago and finally ended up at Calarts in Character Animation. My first work experience was as an Animator in Madrid, Spain working on episodes of Batman the Animated Series in the summer of ’92.

DL- What shows did you work on at CN and it what capacity?
RR- In the fall of ‘92 I was hired at Hanna-Barbera which eventually morphed into Cartoon Network Studios. While it was still HB I worked on 2 Stupid Dogs (pictured below) as a storyboard artist and then director. Created my own short called “Mina and the Count." And finally was a director, writer and storyboard artist on Dexter’s Laboratory.

After it turned into CN, I returned as a director on PPG and Samurai Jack. I ended up as supervising director on Robot Jones.
DL- Was Teenage Robot offered first to CN before landing at Frederator/Nickelodeon?
RR- No.

DL- What was the process once Frederator picked up your pitch? Did you make a Teenage Robot short at Frederator to sell to Nickelodeon?
RR- TR started as a short on “Oh Yeah Cartoons” and as all shorts did, it started with a casual verbal pitch to Fred followed by a 2 page outline. Since I was “in-house” and had done 10 shorts before it, the process was very familiar and informal. From there we made a 7 minute pilot.

DL- What has been your experiance with focus groups onTeenage Robot? Does Frederator utilize focus groups before going further with a creator's idea?
RR- In this case Nickelodeon did not do a focus group before picking it up as a series.

DL- CN was criticized at the launch of the "What A Cartoon" shorts program for "copying" the look and feel of Nick Animation. Now, Fairly Odd Parents and Teenage Robot, have brought a CN look and sensibility to Nick. Are their any distinctions left between the two major cartoon producing channels? Are there any differances in the way they develope and produce shows?
RR- With talent crossing back and forth between the two, you could say that there is a “cross-pollination” process that occurs. As a creator, I have been fairly consistent in the style of what I do, no matter where I do it. To the credit of both networks, they both give their show creators a lot of room and freedom to develop the kind of shows they want to produce.

You can ask the respective PR departments to delineate the differences that they think exist.

DL- What have your learned from CN creators Genndy Tartakovsky and Craig McCracken that you're able to use on your own show?
RR- All of us learned a lot together doing Dexter’s Lab. We were lucky to have a small group of like-minded people who had the same taste in movies and cartoons and to have the opportunity to try those ideas on a show that we considered “our” show. I think those ideas or the “style” that we developed there continues to inform all our work.

Genndy is a more instinctual filmmaker and Craig is more analytical. With Genndy the question is always whether something “feels” right or not. From him the greatest lesson I’ve learned is to always trust your gut. This doesn’t mean that everything you do will be perfect or hilarious but it gives your work consistency, integrity, and personality. Audiences respond to that.

Craig loves to come up with theories and themes for his cartoons. There are always many layers that give his stuff a richness that you don’t get from most cartoons. But the thinking that goes into his stuff doesn’t weigh things down. Craig’s work feels light and fast. His cartoons are like a nutrient-rich cream puff. I am constantly striving to try to match this combination of depth and lightness.

DL- What do Genndy and Craig think of your show?
RR- I recently had lunch with Craig and he seems to be a genuine fan. I haven’t had a long talk with Genndy recently but he saw a couple episodes and thought it looked cool.

DL- Did you take any key CN personale with you from your CN days to work on Robot? If so, whom?
RR- My most important collaborator is my art director Alex Kirwan. He started out working at HB and had a stint at CN on “Time Squad” but we became friends and partners during our “Oh Yeah” days at Nick. We worked on each other’s short cartoons.

Some other key people that have CN/HB history are BG designer Joseph Holt, BG painter Seonna Hong and storyboard artist Brandon Kruse. As do my line producer Debby Hindman, production manager Ani Martirossians and production coordinator Charlie Desrochers.

DL- The retro-futuristic look of Teenage Robot seems to be plucked right off the poster art from the 1939 World's Fair in NY. What were your design influences?
RR- Both Alex and I have a great fondness for thirties cartoons but we’re also big fans of the highly stylized look and amazing color theory employed in the UPA stuff. At this point we thought fifties looking stuff had been done to death. We wanted to do a stylized, flat show but felt that grounding it in thirties design elements would give it a different feeling than the other shows out there. What we didn’t want to do was pure “rubberhose” thirties characters against typical thirties cartoon backgrounds.

Alex was the one to come up with the idea of referencing thirties poster art. We found it had this great highly stylized look that was just as flat and “designy” as any fifties stuff. The limited palettes gave us the UPA-ish feel we wanted although the color choices are different. Joseph Holt and Seonna Hong have really done a great job translating this look into our production BG’s.

DL- Besides the eye-popping visuals, Teenage Robot also features sharp scripting, not unlike the dialogue heard on Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
RR- Thanks. I’m a big fan of Buffy.

DL- Can you describe how episodes are written for My Life As a Teenage Robot? How does the storyboard artist fit in to the equation?
RR- Once the premise is approved we write the story in outline form. We do not script the show before it goes to storyboard. There is a lot of visual humor in the show and I think a lot of that gets squeezed out in script driven shows. The outline gives the storyboard artist the freedom and room for visual storytelling. It also gives her or him the responsibility of coming up with a large portion of the dialogue. The rough board is pitched and the Nick execs and I have our notes. Before we record I go through the final board and make my final tweaks.

DL- In the episode, "I was a Preschool Dropout," there is an inpromptu song number that breaks out as the preschoolers play at being "robots." As Jenny trys to protest, her cries become part of the song's mix.
For a moment,this truly unexpected sequence takes on a life of its own. Do you look for sections in each show to try something off the beaten path?
RR- That was the idea of storyboard artist Brandon Kruse. Using outlines as I stated above gives you the room for such sequences. We do look for these opportunities in each show with varying degrees of success.

DL- Although Jenny was created as a super crime fighting Robot by her Mom, her world-saving adventures decidedly take second place to her "teen" life with her high-school pals. Villains and peril seem to show up just when they are needed according to the needs of the story. This is at odds with CN's Samurai Jack where ACTION is king. How do you find just the right blance between action, drama and comedy?
RR- I’m a story junkie and sometimes we overdose on plot points. That said, it was a conscious decision to concentrate more on the teen life side of the equation because that’s where Jenny wants to focus. The great thing is that the balance between action and comedy can change with every episode. Going forward we will hopefully do more ‘action-packed’ episodes now that the characters are established.

DL-The episode, "Ear No Evil," makes several allusions to Walt Disney's Dumbo. Jenny, an outsider, shares an obvious kinship with the little elephant. Jenny's outsider image is further reinforced in the series with shades of bigotry and injustice. Do you have any plans to explore this serious aspect of the show further?
RR- I don’t think you will ever hear a promo that begins with “Tonight on a very special Teenage Robot….”. The show will always be humorous and the heavier shades will usually be pretty light. Kids pick up on these aspects of the show without having to focus too strongly on it.

DL- Teenage Robot features a rich side cast of background characters, like Mr. Mezmer (an icecream parlor operator), that sport thick foreign accents. Was the ethnic tinged work of the Fleischer studio an influence? And is the name Mezmer a nod to Otto Messmer, creator of Felix the Cat?
RR- The Fleischer studio is probably my favorite classic cartoon factory. I especially love the Popeye shorts. Accents are used mostly as a quick way to help distinguish new characters. I also like to use them to subvert our expectations for certain characters with the most obvious example being Brit and Tiff.

Mr. Mezmer is a reference to Felix’s father.

DL- What are the non-animation related influences that have shaped your style?
RR- Hitchcock was an early and strong influence. The early films of Sam Raimi and the Coen Brothers were eye-opening experiences just when I started working in the industry. “The Hudsucker Proxy” is a great resource for anyone interested in visual storytelling. Chris Ware’s comics are awe-inspiring visual wonderlands.

DL- What is your opinion of the rival robot show on CN, Whatever Happened to Robot Jones? And is there any chance we'll see Jenny battle Robot Jones on TV's Battle Bots? Just a thought.
RR- I actually worked as supervising director on the first season of Robot Jones as I stated above. Since it is so different in terms of style and tone I consider it more of a comrade than a rival. I love the show.

I’m sure we will see a battle/team up when all the entertainment conglomerates eventually merge into one worldwide media empire.

DL- Your show is made at the Nick Toons studio in Burbank, CA. How much interaction does your crew have with the other in house productions?
RR- The studio is a very friendly place and there is a lot of social interaction and studio-wide events. There are a lot of good people and great artists working here.

DL- Where is Teenage Robot now in production? Will there be another season? A feature?
RR- Right now we are finishing up the last episodes of the first season and putting our pitch together for Season # 2. It would be great to try our hand at a TR feature but there are no current plans for one.

DL- Do you have any unfulfilled aspirations in this field or any other?
RR- I’ve been blessed with a much better career than I ever hoped for. My greatest aspiration was to have my own show. Now I’m focused on making it the best show I can. I don’t have a lot of time to think about the future. I’ll worry about it when TR is done.

DL- What advice would you give to someone looking to sell their own animated creation as a series?
RR- First decide if having your own show is something you really want. Because the process of making a creator-driven show is an all consuming endeavor. Unless you truly love what you are creating you will never make it through the process. It is a labor of love with the emphasis on the labor.

Now, if you decide that you truly want your own show it becomes a matter of tenacity. You need to show your devotion and energy to those who can make your show a reality. And you will need to show it again and again. It also helps to have some kind of track record in the industry. Work well and hard on other people’s shows. Gain a reputation. If you go in as a rookie, you will need to be much more brilliant and fantastic.

Also be careful of compromising too much at the beginning of the process. You need to know how to adapt and apply criticism without damaging the core of your idea. If their ideas or desires don’t fit with your show then move on. Six weeks or six months down the road their needs will change. What was a rejection may become a green light to go to series.

Fans of Renzetti's Teenage Robot, should definitely check out The Hub series My Little Pony, on which he currently serves as story editor.

Of Geeks and Go-Getters

2011-09-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

“Make the kind of work you want to be paid to make.” Super Jail co-creator Christy Karacas has said this time and time again to my SVA Animation career class and I’ve come to think of it as, perhaps, the single most important bit of advice one could give on creating a happy and successful career in animation. I’ve mined this topic before on this blog, but think it’s well worth revisiting.

Writer-Comedian Kevin Maher (pictured above) is the host of a long-running series at the 92nd Street Y Tribeca called ““Kevin Geeks Out.” Tackling such subjects as Aliens, Rip-off Cinema, Big Foot, Robots, Dummy Deaths, and Sharks in hysterical, fanatical detail through power-point presentations and rare footage not available on YouTube, along with his warm, witty, and insightful live commentary, "Kevin Geeks Out" makes an infectious celebration out of the most trivial pursuits. If that’s not enough, he also serves snacks. In between “Geek Outs,” Kevin is a frequent blogger, where he shares more of his obsessions in videos, essays, and interviews like this, and this, and that.

The work required to put on his show and maintain his blog is a labor of love, something Kevin does as a sideline to his busy career as an Emmy-nominated comedy writer (he frequently writes for animation) working on projects for HBO, AMC, CNN, Comedy Central, VH1, Nickelodeon, etc. But, unlike the work for hire to someone else’s specifications, Kevin’s “Geek Outs” let him revel in his passion, develop his voice, and sharpen his observations.

Which brings me back to Cristy Karacas’s quote that opened this post: “Make the kind of work you want to be paid to make.”

A couple of weeks ago, via his Facebook status, Kevin announced: Emmy nominated Kevin Maher is set to host RANDOM FANDOM, a documentary TV series created  and developed by doublewide media. RANDOM FANDOM is a half-hour docu-series that explores the world of geekish revelry at fan conventions. Each week, Kevin will go to a new convention (lovingly called cons) and unveil parts of cons known only to the initiated. Every con has a hidden subculture — we’re uncovering all of them.

As Kevin’s story shows, it’s important to lay your own track, to grow opportunities in the direction you wish to grow.

Half the fun of making the work you’d like to be paid to make, is not knowing when and where it might pay off. It’s kind of magical––you sort of set it and forget it. Sort of like a George Foreman Grill of career plans. Examples? The film Cristy Karacas made with Stephen Warbick for MTV (“Bar Fight”) is what led to their invitation to pitch Super Jail eight years later at Adult Swim. I can throw a new experience of my own into the mix. A year ago I made the film “Grandpa Looked Like William Powell,” a short animated documentary. A month ago, a producer, whom I’d never worked with before, got in touch with me because he wanted to make a test pilot which happened to be a short animated documentary. When I showed him my film, he had proof that I had passion for the genre. I got the gig, something I was able to squeeze in during a two-week hiatus from my full-time job.

Cristy, Kevin, and I are all deep into our careers, but making your own opportunities is something that can also apply to students. About a year ago I was checking my email at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts (where I teach undergrad), and there was a nearby information table where a student sat to hand out orientation materials. Two of the student’s friends happened by and began to chat with her. One asked her what she wanted to do after graduation.

“I want to be a paid blogger,” she replied.

“Oh, do you have a blog?” her friend asked.

She answered, “No.”

This would-be "paid blogger" is on the complete opposite path of what Cristy Karacas is suggesting and what savvy people such as Kevin Maher do instinctually. Whether you’re a student or ten years in the industry, you have to build a foundation for your own unique success. And, since this takes time... Why wait?

Leaving the Nest

2011-09-09T15:27:00.001-07:00

We struggle so hard for our breaks in this business that it can be hard to imagine that some of our best breaks come when a job ends. Being a child of television (my dad a Zenith, my mother a Panasonic), it was a dream come true to have a chance to work on a number one animated TV series for a top cable network. Even though the show was a hit right out of the gate, few of us on the crew expected that the production would last the almost ten years it added up to.

But, on October 11, 2001, the show’s animation team was called into a conference room. Now, if you have any experience working in animation studios, you know it’s seldom a good thing when there’s a sudden unplanned staff meeting. Often it means an announcement that the production is ending, or already over. On some occasions I’ve heard about, large teams of artists are led out of the building after being sacked en masse at such meetings. So, next time your studio rounds you up into a conference room, hide out in the bathroom until it blows over.

Our staff, still rattled by the terrorist attacks on NYC the month before, were told that we had a whole two years of work left on the series but that the network had decided not to renew the production after that. A two-year notice! Compared to the worst case scenario of the show shutting down that day (a likely outcome after such a disaster and blow to the economy), this wasn't so bad at all. As much as I liked my job, working with this crew, and the project itself, I left that meeting feeling free and full of hope. It was my first light feeling in four weeks.

I wasn't that deep into my career at the time but my confidence was up because I had done a significant amount of freelance outside of my full time job (not to mention a lot of networking), so I had ready connections to future work. More importantly, I was optimistic that the two-year span would help us all ride out the worst of the economic downturn.

But, when I looked around at my pals, some wore expressions like they’d been punched in the stomach. Others had the color drained out of their faces. While I felt that this kind of change was good, for some of the crew this was their first job (and their only job), so they didn’t know what it would be like to work on other projects with other people, or how to even look for a work. So, I can understand the way they were feeling. But, ultimately (even if things were bumpy at first) this forced exodus made all these artists stronger in their craft and savvier on surviving in this freelance-based business. Getting kicked out of the nest can be a great break indeed.

There are a lot of other reasons why it’s good to have to move on. Firstly, compared to working on one long project with the same crew, you gain much more valuable experience working with different crews on diverse projects. You pick new skills and techniques and get to learn from different work and management styles. Secondly, to see value or appreciation on your skills or accomplishments, it sometimes requires working with a new set of people. The people who “knew you when” on your first job always remember you at the level you started at, and/or dilute your specific contributions as simply being another member of the team. It’s mostly in your next jobs with a new set of people that you'll find a deeper recognition of your talents and know-how.

Need more evidence? Add Steve Jobs (once sacked from Apple) and John Lasseter (once sacked from Disney) to the list of people who owe much of their career growth to opportunities gained after losing a job.

These days, long term jobs in animation (or any field, for that matter) are rare, so we might as well embrace and recognize the career-enhancing benefits that come with a life outside the nest. Of course, long term jobs are a blessing, but losing them need not be seen as a curse.

Cooper Film

2011-09-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

Vintage postcard image of New York City's Cooper Union.

Since it’s been a long time since I used this space to talk about my current projects, I decided to post about a new indie film I’m making, and the issues it brings up.

On Father’s Day this past June, I ended up recording a three and half hour interview with my dad all about his days in advertising. I can’t say what I planned to do with all that audio, but the next day I started editing it to a lean 90-minute narrative.

The focus of the interview was on my dad’s eleven-year run as a creative director at Grey, which spanned most of my childhood. But, when I realized that I should ask him some backstory questions, a story popped out on how he came to go to Cooper Union, something that would change his life, and later, mine. If you’ve read my books, you already know that I grew up on a steady diet of my dad’s career stories, but somehow until this moment, I had never heard him speak about his acceptance into this prestigious school.

During the edit, the Cooper Union story emerged as something that could be the bones of a short animated documentary film. I’ve been in love with the animated documentary genre since seeing Michael Sporn’s Champagne, and Paul Fierlinger’s films (including Still Life With Animated Dogs, and A Room Nearby). And since my most joyous filmmaking experience to date was with a doc short “Grandpa Looked Like William Powell,” I wanted to further explore this area.

But, since I don’t want to make the same film over and over again I thought I’d change up my process on this Cooper Union film in a handful of ways:

Lock the soundtrack first
When making “Grandpa” my frequent composer, Bob Charde, wrote and performed music to the actions and cues in my finished animation.

While I loved the resulting soundtrack for “Grandpa,” in the Cooper film I thought it could be fun to have Bob finalize his score before any storyboards, designs, or animation were created. I know that indies work all sorts of ways so this is nothing new or innovative, and, of course, in the golden age of Hollywood cartoons the soundtrack usually came before the animation. I wanted to try this simply because it might spark ideas in the storyboard and provide musical accents to hit in the animation.

I’ve grown increasingly fussy about the audio and sound in my films and I like to give a lot of direction before and during the process. For this short I gave Bob a half dozen clips of avant-garde music I liked and instructions on where similar music might fit into the piece. Working over a month-long period, Bob experimented with different sounds and composed a really terrific score. He ended up going above and beyond what I imagined, and really brought out the various moods in this story.

Storyboards
Two of my last three shorts did not have anything resembling a storyboard stage, and while that was all well and good, this time I felt the need for some structure. But, since the film was so personal already I wanted to take one step away and bring in some help to create the storyboards. I’ve been a fan and friend of animation artist and teacher Willy Hartland for years and lately we’ve worked together on several freelance projects. I knew he would be the perfect fit for this film.

I gave Willy the soundtrack and a script with a shot-by-shot breakdown of what I wanted. He naturally asked for character designs so he could do his job, but after experimenting with many different design styles for two months, I still hadn't arrived at the right look. But, right after I got off the phone with Willy I turned on my cintiq and, at last, the appropriate designs finally emerged. I was able to email him a complete set of designs within an hour. That’s one of the reasons I love collaboration on an indie film. When you bring another party into your process it challenges you, forces you to get your act together and stop floundering.

Find the Balance
It has been a little harder than I thought, making a film after “Grandpa,” because it can be intimidating to make your next work after you’ve had a success. This is new territory for me, although I think it’s something every filmmaker or artist deals with at one point or another. On one hand you want to repeat what worked for you, but on the other hand you want to try something new.

One thing I tried and rejected (with the good advice of my co-producer, Debbie Staab) was the idea to use another device (like the autograph book in “Grandpa”) to frame the Cooper film. In the “Grandpa” film the video book element was an organic part of the storytelling. The book was a symbol of both the connection and lack thereof between generations and the animation lived in its pages. I spent a few weeks trying something in that vein for the new short, and it came across as very forced and unmotivated to the story I was telling.

With this new film I could fall on my face, but I like to remind myself that was just as likely last time. The worst that will happen is that it won’t get into many festivals. The important thing is that I believe this is a film worth making. There’s something powerful and universal in the story of a poor kid’s desire to better him self by seizing his one chance for a college education. As school starts up this week, don’t we wish all our students were just as passionate about their educations?

Animation Blog Roll

2011-08-27T11:46:00.000-07:00

I’ve been meaning to do a round up of blogs I like for some time, so now is as good a time as any. Animation artist blogs or animation studio blogs come in many varieties. Some are strictly online portfolios, while others offer behind-the-scenes looks at the state of the art form or uncover its history. Here’s a round up of blogs (in no particular order) that I check out everyday, and the reasons why.

Frederator

The Frederator blog, a collection of posts by Fred Seibert, Eric Homan, and their associates, celebrates the art form and its artists. Besides giving countless newcomers their first public nod, this blog also takes readers behind the scenes showing how hit series such as "Adventure Time" (pictured above) and "Fan Boy & Chum Chum" are made. I can’t think of a more transparent production than "Adventure Time," for instance, in that it appears that every model sheet and background painting made for the series has been posted for viewing. Since the quirky show is the most game-changing animated series since "SpongeBob," this is nothing to sneeze at. Add to this the entrepreneurial musings of Fred Seibert, forever encouraging readers to re-invent themselves and their industry, and to do it all with passion, joy, and enthusiasm.

Michael Sporn's Splog

When I worked for Michael Sporn, for an all-too brief two years, I made sure that (besides Michael) I was the first person in the studio each morning. That meant a leisurely conversation with Michael at the back table over tea. It was my chance to ask him how he made his groundbreaking films and he’d recount each experiment with pleasure, aptly demonstrating his love of animation and filmmaking. One morning he pulled out some issues of his old studio newsletter called Sporn-O-Graphics, which made for a great record of his early 1990s output as well as time capsule of the overall era. Other mornings Michael would suddenly get up, pry open a box on a nearby shelf and pull out original layouts from Raggedy Ann and Andy, or drawings by John Hubley, among others. These morning chats are now available to everyone through Michael’s daily splog posts. If you like your animation discussion from a responsible and reliable source who was there, worked with many of the greats, and is leaving his own mark on the art/industry, then this is the blog for you.

Mark Mayerson

The only time I disagree with Mark is on the subject of pitching and development, but I don’t let that stop me from enjoying his intelligent observations on the business, industry, and art of animation at Mayerson on Animation. From copyright issues, to studies and mosaics of classic animation, to issues faced by students and recent graduates, Mark’s blog covers it all. Best of all, he’s rational, balanced, and level-headed, something in short supply on the Internet.

Stephen P. Neary

As a teacher at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, I had the pleasure to meet the latest wunderkind to emerge from the program, the multi-talented Stephen P. Neary. After wowing the festival world with his quirky and delightful student films such as “Shark Suit,” and “Chicken Cowboy,” Stephen graduated and was immediately snatched up to work in the story department of Blue Sky. For so many, scoring a dream gig like that would mean putting any personal projects on hold, but not for Mr. Neary. He’s been busying himself making further short films such as “Let’s Make Out,” and the upcoming, “Dr. Breakfast,” as well as creating book and feature proposals, and otherwise scribbling lovely observations into his sketch books (pictured above). Oh, I forgot to mention, Stephen is a hell of a nice guy, making it all the more fun to go along on his journey and cheer him on.

Scribble Junkies

I come to Scribble Junkies in part to read Bill Plympton’s unusual reviews of the many films he watches (its especially fun to read him objectively criticize the work of friends––even ones as powerful as John Lasseter), in part to be a fly on the wall as Bill reports on his never ending animation world tour, and to read Pat Smith’s surfer/rock-star take on being an artist/animator. Bill and Pat are two of the most active indies in the world and for that reason alone they make an exciting combination. They share an infectious “can do” spirit that makes you want to finish a film and then promote your work with gusto.

Ace & Son Moving Picture Co.

No other blog best captures the ins-and-outs of running a successful small animation studio than Ace & Son owner/operator’s Richard O’Connor’s blog. Go deep into his archive at his old address to find invaluable posts on budgeting, pipeline, and all aspects of doing business. His discussions on the creative side are no less insightful. Richard and I began our careers in animation in NYC during the same year but have charted very different paths. Even though it is not my goal to operate a traditional studio as Richard does, I admire his ability to hold a bustling studio together, to get work, and how he shares his knowledge and experiences to help others navigate this difficult business.

warburtonlabs

The overgrown kid known as Mr. Warburton has achieved a lot in his 20-year (and counting) career (note the page above from his first job hunt journal heralding his hire at Buzzco). Once the poster child of NY animation success (going from employment at studios from Buzzco to J.J. Sedelmaier to creating and producing his own long-running series for Cartoon Network), he has since packed up to reboot his career in L.A., currently supervising retakes for the Disney TV series “Fish Hooks.” Despite his level of achievement, Mr. Warburton’s blog somehow manages to feel like the fresh enthusiastic observations of someone just starting out. This is a man appreciating life working in a field he loves.

The Rauch Bros

Like an indie version of the Frederator blog, brothers Tim and Mike Rauch have been extremely transparent in sharing their production process (pictured above, Tim's design studies for Miss Devine), collaborations, thoughts, and research behind their acclaimed StoryCorps animated films. These guys did things the hard way, creating work on their terms, and giving hope to today’s generation of animation talent that there’s another option besides lining up for a more conventional job or internship in the field.

The Festival of Drawn Animation

2011-08-15T18:31:00.000-07:00

(From left to right, animators Fran Krause, Colleen Cox, Pat Smith, and Bill Plympton during the closing Q and A at The Scribble Junkies Festival of Drawn Animation. Terrible iphone photography by me.)

Last week I had the pleasure of attending the first Scribble Junkies Festival of Drawn Animation, the brain-child of animators Bill Plympton and Pat Smith. The two high profile artists already share a blog, a passion for hand drawn traditional animation, and now have collaborated to curate and present this new festival. Their choice of venue, the new Nitehawk Cinema in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, helped set the tone of a relaxed and celebratory atmosphere. Maybe that’s because there were drinks to be had in the Cinema’s bar before and after the show? I, for one, very much appreciated the Magner’s Cider on tap. *burp*

As recently as fifteen years ago 2D drawn animation was still THE main technique of animation around the world, as it had been for nearly a century. If someone had called an event a “drawn” animation festival back then, it would have seemed redundant. Today such a distinction makes total sense. But, the “drawn” credo is more than just a snappy title or a way to position itself apart from what the big CGI studios are doing in features. As I watched the selections of the evening, I began to realize the artists behind these films wanted us to see their individual drawings. Many of these films are about drawing, both technically, and in the psychological sense by what happens when the artist loses his/her self in the act of drawing.

Masks by Pat Smith.

I appreciate this new festival’s focus, especially in how it forced me to look at a few films in a new way. For example, Pat Smith's "Masks" benefitted from the viewer's requirement to experience each film in the context of drawing being the most important element. Drawing and animating are Pat's strengths (check out his wonderful commercials posted here), so even though "Masks" began as an audio track created by composer Karl von Kries, it's the visuals that dominate the experience. Upon seeing this film some months ago, animation artist Adrian Urquidez remarked, "You can tell this guy loves to draw." In short, a perfect candidate for this screening.

David Chai is one of today’s most decorated and prolific humorous animated filmmakers, sort of like a disciple of Bill Plympton, but his “Enrique Wrecks the World,” (which is a crowd pleaser on the festival circuit) seemed a little out of place here. Maybe I wouldn't have felt this way if the short was programmed later in the show, but as the opener, I expected something a little more visually compelling––something to showcase all that drawn animation can be.

Pat Smith introduced “The Music Scene” by Anthony Schepperd as being a former student of his, making the claim that the student was better than the teacher. The film is was wonderfully inventive and imaginative.

Rebecca Sugar, one of the most amazing talents to come out of SVA in recent years (and there’s been a lot of competition), was represented with “Johnny Noodleneck,” which, like her thesis film “Singles,” featured terrific drawing and quirky, brilliant, and idiosyncratic character posing. It was a treat to see another work by the gifted artist, even though it appeared to be a less polished earlier work when compared to her more mature thesis film.

Wrong Number Singapore by Colleen Cox.

A real highlight for filmmaking in the show was “Wrong Number Singapore,” which Colleen Cox animated to a popular viral audio recording circulating around Singapore. I loved the designs, acting, animation, and frenetic crackle of the short, which depicts a phone call gone terrible wrong. Keeping the film language to a minimum was a great move because it let Colleen have a field day animating these raving characters in a way so the staging didn’t get in the way.

Thought of You by Ryan Woodword

“Thought of You” by Ryan Woodword went toe to toe with Bill Plympton’s excerpt of “Cheatin” as the most beautiful animation in the festival.

I was very happy to finally get to see Don Hertzfeldt’s “Wisdom Teeth,” after having missed it at several other festivals. It was a curious one-joke experiment, and judging from the laughs in the audience, a successful one. It reminded me of the filmmaker’s free spirited earlier work before he attempted the more structurally sophisticated “I’m So Proud of You,” and “Everything Will be Okay.”

“Nosy Bear” by Fran Krause should almost be required by law to be accompanied by the lovely and inspirational making-of video showing the short’s peculiar production process. But, in all seriousness, “Nosy Bear,” holds its own quite nicely, and the only fault I can find with it (and it’s probably not a flaw at all) is that it’s far less ambitious than Fran’s previous films such as “Mister Smile,” “Moon Raker,” or his daring video collaboration with his brother Will “Dog in a Burning Building.”

“Summer Bummer” a new two-minute short by Bill Plympton, was made for Showtime (same as Hertzfeldt’s “Wisdom Teeth”), and made in about one week. I need to see this one again because the images came so fast and furious that I lost the thread at one point. But, that could just be me, and I may not feel that way on a second viewing. Thematically, it covers similar territory to Bill’s Oscar-nominated “Guard Dog” in that the main character imagines terrible and impossible dangers looming around every turn. There was some lovely animation and sophisticated layouts in the film, both of which demand another look.

“Codswallop” by the Brothers McLeod artfully presented two scenes at once, much like the explorations of animator Paul Driessen. I’m not sure I always understood what was going on, but I wanted to see this again. It seemed like one of the classier productions in the show.

Let’s hear it for Bill Plympton and Pat Smith! Their maiden festival was sold out, and they have plans to make this an annual event, spread over a couple of days of screenings. If there’s one thing the NY animation community has proved, there can’t ever be enough venues for animators to view films. If they build it, we will come. Especially if there’s cider on tap.

Feedback

2011-08-11T08:46:00.000-07:00

I’ve been surprised and delighted at the positive reception of my short Grandpa Looked Like William Powell. The film is about halfway through its festival run and still receiving invites from festivals around the country. It was gratifying to be accepted into competition at some major festivals, but one of the biggest kicks I got was from reading notes on the film made by the jury of the Animazing Spotlight festival, where they voted my film a 2011 Quarterly winner. I know that getting such feedback can’t always be a pleasant (or even useful) experience, but the messages on my film turned out to be interesting and provocative. I'm not a famous or highly regarded filmmaker so it's a rare treat to read any words on a short film of mine. And, since shorts don't get half the attention, reviews, or respect that feature films do, I'll enjoy this while it lasts.

All this encouragement inspired me to go to the trouble (which included making two 35 mm prints of the film, as pictured above) to qualify "Grandpa" for the Academy Awards. Maybe I'll have a shot if some of the Academy voters agree with the Animazing Spotlight jury. Whatever happens, it'll be nice to be on the ballot.

Here’s the Animazing Spotlight Festival Jury comments:

I like it very much. Good idea to make the autograph book the key element of the image as well as the story. The animation is very well done, I love the sketched-like style of the characters. The music matches the voice over and the image perfectly. An excellent homage!
- Silvina Cornillon

This is a reminiscence about a grandfather after he has passed. But the animation, hand-drawn and digitally superimposed over an old diary is warm and appealing. I especially liked the way the line drawings bring the pages to life for a few seconds. The character drawings, though deliberately quick and sketchy, surprisingly capture the personalities, especially of grandpa, and the other family members. And yet the central figure remains an enigma. This is a gentle, understated story about a man who was loved and about whom not much is actually known. Well done.
- Jack Bosson

I loved his film--it took me back to similar techniques of UPA ("The Unicorn in the Garden) and Caroline Leaf's film about her life in a N.Y. suburb as a child. This is totally engaging, great animation and design, beautifully written and very personally involving.
- Bill Matthews

This snuck up on me and completely charmed me. I finally thought, ''This reminds me of the best parts of George Griffin's films and a little bit of our own personal films.'' Great work!
- Frank Mouris

Really good. Worked on pretty much every level for me. I felt like I got to know the central character, I felt that the filmmaker had made pretty good use of the various properties of animation to tell the story, I felt that the artwork matched the narrative and I really liked the story. I showed this to several people and a couple of them wondered (and I had a similar fleeting thought) that perhaps the film insinuated that the Grandpa might not have been wholly trustworthy when it came to dealing with kids. Not sure if this insinuation is intentional or whether the people I hang out have overly suspicious minds
- Malcolm Turner

This is an engaging and quietly challenging piece, in that such biographical pieces normally try to facilitate a kind of intimacy and poignant revelation. I liked the way this told the story through the autograph book but ultimately led to a lack of connection or knowledge. That which is known is nicely, one might say, warmly illustrated, but the presiding feeling is one of distance from the central character, a man suggested rather than known; a man whose existence takes on an almost Beckett-style absurdity by virtue of his acceptance that ‘that’s it’. We assume that all lives leave evidence of affect and purpose; such a memoir might suggest that the common outcome is the very opposite.
- Paul Wells

Genuine. Nice little film talking about someone seemingly close to your heart, but not quite close.
- Sharon Wu

The voice over reminiscing with the autograph book was very nicely handled. The animation was simple but very well done. The movement of the characters over the bowing of the page seam was superb. Great story arc. First class film.
- Larry Loc

Bookends

2011-08-04T06:04:00.000-07:00

A snap from The Ottawa Animation Festival in 2008, (left to right and front to back) Justin Simonich, Andy Kennedy, Glenn Ehlers, Andy Sacks, David B. Levy, Chris Boyce, Linda Beck.

I thought it might be fun to bookend my previous post with my first letter as ASIFA-East president dating from September 2000. This doubles as a review of my first ever experience attending The Ottawa International Animation Festival. Since I had just been promoted to an animation director position at Blue's Clues, Nickelodeon generously paid for my hotel expenses, but with the caveat that I act as representative of Nick's brand new digital animation studio. This mostly meant I had to hand out toys and postcards. Not a bad deal, right?

Attending my first major festival was an eye-opener. Where else can you see five days of animated programming and mingle with wonderful artists from all around the world? I was forever transformed. I wanted to see my films on their screens one day. I still haven't achieved that goal but, they hosted a signing for my first book and a panel for my second. I was invited to return to the festival this year to do a panel based around my Directing Animation book but, had to turn it down due to a conflicting opportunity.

If you haven't been to the festival, book your trip now. You won't regret it.

A Letter From The President

David B. Levy

Greetings from the North! By North, I mean the Ottawa International Airport. That's where I'm presently sitting, awaiting my flight back to the Colonies. If I'm still here when you get this....won't someone be so kind as to send me a sandwich and two hard boiled eggs? As you may have guessed, I am in Canada because I attended the Ottawa International Animation Festival. It was an interesting and informative trip. I learned that it's possible to wear shorts during the Fall in Canada (courtesy of Festival Director, Chris Robinson). I also learned that no matter how hard one tries it's impossible to spend down all your loose Canadian change before you get back across the boarder. And I learned the secret to surviving a week of daily animation screenings....the mid day nap.

Between lessons, I managed to squeeze in about three screenings and events a day. There were many noteworthy films. Marv Newland brought us, "Fuv," the story of a man who is not sure who should inherit the earth (and no, the answer is not "the meek"). Barry J.C. Purves's "Gilbert and Sulivan- The Very Models" actually won the award for best models. Veteran animator Paul Driessen was a crowd favorite with two entries, "The Boy Who Saw the Iceberg" and "3 Misses." As someone who paid $375.00 for a one inch high Blue Meanie Driessen drawing at last years Asifa-East auction, I couldn't be more pleased.

Stop Motion was well represented, especially at the traffic lights when they turned red. Among the highlights were Richard Goleszowki's "Hooves of Fire" (best TV special), Steffen Schaeffler's "The Periwig Maker" (best 1st Professional film), and Will Vinton Studio's "The PJ's" (best TV series).

It was a proud festival to be an ASIFA-East member. Our own Paul Fierlinger was called on stage so many times that he wore a hole in the carpet. Recognizing this, Ottawa awarded him the "most called on stage award" (no joke). Fierlinger's idiosyncratic body of work was also featured in a special screening which included bits of his newest film, "Still Life With Animated Dogs", a personal account of his life with his canines. Take it from me, this one is not for the dogs.

ASIFA-East native son Bill Plympton was also honored with a special screening in which he indulged the audience with a work in progress peak at his new feature "Mutant Aliens." Also screened were eight of his new web shorties, animated in Flash, for Atom Films. Also featured in this year's fest was several films by Asifa-East member in good standing, J.J. Sedelmaier. His "Captain Linger" should be used as a lesson to all would be super heroes, that one should always leave on a high note (or at least on a £5 note). Also screened were "The Ambiguously Gay Duo #7 Letters" and "Jewel's Poetry", directed by our own Sean Lattrell (which won the Mike Gribble award for Humor). Last but, not least....our friend Yvonne Anderson's work was featured in a special retrospective.

Spotted in the crowd, whether they like it or not, were ASIFA-East's: Bob Lyons, Fran Krause, Barbara Kearney, Candy Kugel, Kris Greengrove, Mo Willems, Steve Dovas, Chris Boyce, Tatia Rosenthal, David Palmer, Jennifer Oxley, Fred Armstrong, Olexa Hewryk, Karl Staven, Pilar Newton, Machi Tantillo and Linda Simensky.

One of the highlights of the festival for me occurred at a retrospective of legendary animator Gene Deitch's Rembrandt Films period. One "Nudnik" film was screened backwards and upside down. This was followed by Deitch films for Weston Woods that apparently arrived for screening without optical soundtracks. This snafu quickly turned into a blessing as Deitch (sitting in the audience) burst into action by giving an off the cuff commentary on the films as they played. Another high point of the festival was the George Pal retrospective. The light attendance for this early morning screening had Jerry Beck throwing up his hands as he blasted the missing people for not knowing what they were missing. The missing people could not be reached for commentary at press time. The all too brief program featured Pal classics like "Mr. Strauss Takes a Walk," "Tubby the Tuba," and the poignant "Tulips Shall Grow." Won't someone please put the complete surviving Puppetoons on DVD?

A still from "Ring of Fire" by Andreas Hykade

The most bizarre moment of the festival happened after "Ring of Fire" (Andreas Hykade) won the Grand Prize for independent film. Estonian jury member, Priit Parn, approached the podium and announced his strong disagreement into the microphone. He then dutifully pointed out that the best film was in fact "Flying Nansen" (Igor Kovalyov). A stunned audience was quickly pacified with the screening of the winning films.

For some the most interesting thing about Ottawa was the weather. There was sun, clouds, rain, and warm and cold fronts. Happily the weather was just right for the animator's picnic. Apparently, the bees agreed...because there was one bee for each animator in attendance. One unlucky Canadian touched a plastic cup to his mouth without noticing a bee had perched on the rim. Needless to say....the man had a "swell" time at the picnic.

Now for more local news.... As the new president of Asifa-East I am proud to have the opportunity to work with such a diverse, experienced and capable board of directors. We also share the privilege of having Barbara Kearney as our new Vice President. In addition to this position, Babara will continue to handle programming duties.

Together, we have an exciting year in store for us! The newsletter is back (on a semi-monthly basis), the website is transitioning into different hands and the 30-year festival book is almost complete. Also, we have some new blood taking over important positions. Joining us as the new Membership Secretary is David Billings. Dale Clowdis is helping out as acting Newsletter Co-Editor. Tarik Cherkaoui is taking over as webmaster of our aforementioned website.

Finally, the Asifa-East annual Open Screening when off without a hitch on September 27! It turned into an old fashioned "sit in" as capacity crowds filled every inch of space. It was so crowded that someone drank my water. Lot's of funny, touching, bizarre and sex-crazed films rounded out the evening. Thank you to all the animators that participated! We'll see you next screening...(details on the cover)!

Changing the Guard

2011-07-31T10:47:00.000-07:00

Longtime ASIFA-East board member, Don Duga, depicts an ASIFA-East board meeting circa the late 1960s and one from 2003.

It’s surprising to look back and realize that I’ve spent most of my animation career as president of ASIFA-East, and a large percentage of my adult life committed to ASIFA-East in some capacity. Now, after 11 years as el presidente, I’m stepping down from this office and I’m excited to see what the future holds for myself and for the organization that changed my life.

I joined the board in the fall of 1995, at the urging of one of my heroes, Howard Beckerman. The first meeting I attended turned out to be historic because everybody showed up naked. Okay, that’s not true, I was just trying to spice things up. It was historic because at the start of the meeting Linda Simensky announced she had accepted a job in development at Cartoon Network’s Atlanta headquarters so she’d have to give up the presidency. This was true for about five seconds until long-time board member (and gracious meeting host) Candy Kugel suggested the possibility that Linda could still be president from Georgia. Nobody wanted to see Linda go, so for the next four years, the office moved south to Dixie.

The ASIFA-East board members amazed me then and still do today. They do so much for so many, and never for pay. What brings them back month after month, year after year? All of these people with jobs, personal lives and commitments, feel it’s important to lend their time, talents, and energies to this cause, for this community. The group is a bit like Switzerland, a neutral territory—outside of the boarders of animation studios—where people can gather, mingle, and celebrate their shared love of animation.

Most people who attend board meetings are eventually assigned some task. My first responsibility was to assist then-membership secretary Jim Petropoulos. He taught me all the ins-and-outs of that role and a year or so later, when Jim stepped down, I became membership secretary. My co-worker at Blue’s Clues Chris Gelles became assistant membership secretary. To welcome us to our new posts, Linda and Jim treated Chris and me to a Japanese meal at a fine restaurant. The three of them devoured their fish with gusto (gusto was a popular cocktail of the time). I ordered the chicken, which came with a side of food poisoning (such was the auspicious start of my ASIFA-East career). Being membership secretary was a wonderful experience. It forced me to come out of my shell and engage with hundreds of animation people. Considering that this was pre-Facebook, that was no small feat.

After a few years of being an off-site president and doing a wonderful job in the position for 10 years, Linda Simensky decided it was time for a change. It was quite a shock when she asked me to be the next president. At first, I was reluctant, knowing what a commitment and responsibility it would be, but Linda is a great salesperson. I think I accepted the next day. When I became president it was all fireworks and barbecues, but I’ve since been told that was because it was the Fourth of July. My early days in the role were a lot like visiting a foreign country: you struggle to learn the language, try to pack the right clothes, and have trouble going to the bathroom.

My time as president turned out to be a period of great instability in the economy. New York animation was also affected by shifting media trends, a number of unstable studios, aborted productions, and a few large studio closures. But now may be the start of a new era of growth. New York is still the home of many celebrated indie filmmakers, a few mid-size to large studios producing series work, lots of scrappy and resourceful artist-run studios, a thriving CGI/SFX community, several world-class animation schools, and one of the best animation talent pools around. Besides ASIFA-East, the community is further served by such groups as WICM and WIA, and new institutions like Animation Block Party, Too Art for TV, and Midsummer Night Toons, each contributing much to the fabric of New York-area animation.

In 2000, when I stepped into Linda Simensky's impressive shoes (I think they were Converse), I was nervous and felt a bit unqualified that first year. But the position forced me to sharpen my game, interact with a lot of people, and present myself as a public figure and community leader. I’m not sure I ever fully figured out that last part of the job, but with such an enthusiastic board of directors, and a wonderful group of supportive members, we achieved a lot! Membership is up, our books are in the black, the monthly screenings are well attended, submissions to our festival have risen by nearly 50%, which may have to with the fact that we have the most vital Web site (and social outreach) of any ASIFA chapter in the world.

Whatever we accomplished on the board of directors is your legacy too. To all the ASIFA-East members and all of the executive board members of the past eleven years, I’m forever in your debt for the amazing opportunity to be your president. I’m still astounded that anyone had faith that I could do this job! Thanks for believing in me. You changed my life and career in so many ways. I can’t thank you all enough!

Now, all that’s left to do is throw our support behind the next president…

On behalf of the entire board of directors, I’m excited to announce that the awesome, affable, and animated Linda Beck will be your next president. She’s no stranger to the ASIFA-East board or the community, having served on the former as membership secretary for over five years. She also has a prominent place in the industry, currently working on the hit Nick Jr. series Team Umizoomi as a production manager/line producer. Linda is also a terrific artist and illustrator, as well as friend to all animals, vegetables, and minerals. Perhaps most importantly, she’s a fierce and passionate fighter for all animation folks.

To top it off, Linda has strong ties to the CG/SFX community, having worked as producer for two years at Mechanism Digital. A couple of years ago she used her expertise in this area to put together a killer panel featuring five of the top CGI/SFX studios in town. As the worlds of character-based animation and CG/SFX and composite work blend together more and more, Linda Beck is just the person to keep ASIFA-East relevant in this changing media landscape.

Linda’s term as president begins on September 1st, and I know you’ll join me and the executive board in giving her a warm enthusiastic welcome. We’ll announce further changes to the board of directors this fall as well as planned improvements to the festival.

Till then, have a great summer!

The Legacy of "Blue's Clues"

2011-07-22T12:13:00.000-07:00

The "Blue's Clues" crew circa seasons 5, the next to last season.

In October 2004 I wrote this essay on The Legacy of "Blue's Clues" for the ASIFA-East newsletter. The series had recently ended after being in continuous production since 1996. I joined the series in early 1997 when the show was part way through its first season. With hindsight we know that the 1990s was one of the golden ages in NY animation, based on the amount of high paying and high visibility work available. "Blue's Clues" ushered in the last wave of that decade of activity, giving age old production techniques a fresh spin with a digital pipeline. It was now possible to animate an entire series in the U.S. again, something that hadn't been true since the 1970s.

Switching gears from topics in previous newsletters, I’d like to spotlight a local show that recently wrapped up production. I’m talking about a show that was in straight production for nearly a full decade! All of it animated, storyboarded, designed, written, researched and produced in house. The Great Grandmother to all the digital shows today (even pre-dating “South Park”). If you haven’t guessed it, I’m referring to that ground breaking pre-school game show, “Blue’s Clues."

Other productions have followed in “Blue’s Clues” wake, often staffed by those trained at “Blue’s Clues” and its After Effects based model of production. A whole generation of graduates got their start on Blue’s or the shows it inspired. The money
generated by the billion dollar little blue puppy franchise helped spring the lovely “Little Bill,” the animation block at Spike TV, and spurred on green lights throughout the industry.

However, the legacy of “Blue’s Clues” means more than just the money and jobs it generated. It was a positive thing to put out in the world, and did an educational service to its impressionable viewers (children ages 2-6 and some slightly askew college kids). It helped kids feel good about themselves and made their parents breathe a sigh of relief knowing it was out there. It solved the energy crisis, ended the war in Iraq and...well, OK, it didn’t do all that.

Like all shows, the production of “Blue’s Clues” evolved and changed as it went on. Those who left after the semi-rocky pioneering first or second seasons would be impressed to see how smoothly the production ran in its final years. At the same time, the standards for excellence in writing, design, and animation soared to ever increasing heights as the years passed by.

The production also broke ground the way in it reacted to several animators who developed carpal tunnel syndrome at the beginning of season two. "Blue’s" crew and producers rallied MTV Networks to improve the situation. Because of these actions, hundreds of animation artists of "Blue’s," “Little Bill”, and the Spike TV shows were given specially designed ergonomic desks and work stations. Injuries dropped to near zero (that guy who walked around for two years with crutches was faking it).

When animation artists gather at the local watering hole, what do they complain about win regards to their jobs? Often people are frustrated over their lack of a voice, feeling under-appreciated, and working for inadequate compensation. “Blue’s Clues” showed that you could make a number one show, produce it digitally in house on a TV schedule, push the creative envelope every season, and hold on to your crew for years by showing them the proper appreciation.

Every production or studio has its own way of organizing the work and the workers. Each animation artist in NY is the keeper of a vast supply of production knowledge in addition to their tricks of the craft. As much as we help shape the day-to-day nature of our jobs, we are, in turn, shaped by the production methods and attitudes of those around us. “Blue’s Clues” was a supportive, collaborative, and creative place to spend the last 10 years and it will be missed by many. The impact of the show in the local industry (and beyond) will be felt for years to come. For evidence, you merely have to follow the clues.

Animondays Interview: John R. Dilworth, Part I

2011-07-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

In 2001, I asked John R. Dilworth, one of the finest animation directors, creators, and filmmakers in the business, to sit down for an interview to be published in the ASIFA-East newsletter. John was finishing up a four-season run of his popular Cartoon Network series "Courage the Cowardly Dog," and had recently completed another indie masterpiece in his short film "The Mousochist."

I arrived at this interview well prepared with a list of questions and a tape recorder. But, in typical Dilworth fashion, he had plans of his own and told me to put away the questions so we could just chat one-on-one and have a real conversation. Although that momentarily threw me off, it turned out to be a great thing. The looser approach allowed us both to relax and gave me the freedom to explore any interesting tangents that came up. I got about 4 hours on tape, only half of which I managed to transcribe for the newsletter. I still plan to go back and type up the second half, so consider this part one of my interview with John from 2001...

An Oscar Nomination. One hundred and four eleven minute Courage The Cowardly Dog cartoons for the Cartoon Network. Numerous pilots for MTV Animation and Nickleodeon. Six (and counting) independent animated films. Yes, I'm talking about multi award winning animator, designer, writer, director, producer, creator, and founder and president of Stretch Films, John R. Dilworth! John took a few hours out of his busy schedule to talk about all the above. Enjoy!

DL: Was there a key film in your childhood that pushed you towards a future in animation?
JRD: So many things contribute to who we are as a person...I can't just narrow it and say "Oh, I saw Steam Boat Willie"...though, they should have kept making those little rat movies...they were fabulous...that guy was nasty...he would abuse animals but, at the same time he was cowering under that huge guy.

There was a moment. I was looking at an illustration I made and I wanted to see it move. That was it.

DL: Can you describe what the industry was like in NY when you started in 1985?
JRD: When you went to school it was at the right time...you got out of school just when there was a boom in animation (1995), so you came out of school and had a job! Most of us in 1985 did not. I had to go into advertising for two years and I also worked in printing. Disney was recruiting at the time, but, they didn't take me. I gave them my portfolio like everyone else in the school, but I'm not a Disney artist.

DL: Can you shed some light on why you've made your career in NY and not somewhere else, like LA for instance?
JRD: I need this city. It's a cynical place. It's a skeptical place....I guess I'm tuned into that. Of course I've had my love affairs with LA. I've always gone there with short films to do post production. The thing I don't like is you need a car out there. Think about Richard Williams, he's walking down the street! You look at characters! They way they walk...everyday you're looking at people.

DL: Is this 'observation stuff' something you can turn off or is it always going?
JRD: I can't shut if off. You'd really have to be in an emotional state to miss it. You know when you're so distracted...you're looking down and you're just moving forward. You just want to get home. I get down. Those are the moments I can't look. I can't observe. The funny thing is that we record everything...then we can use it later.

DL: What were your work experiences before founding stretch films?
JRD: I interned with Howard Beckerman. Howard is a generous man. I was always working through school...working for whatever producer for 10 or 15 dollars an hour. It was amassing experience. I was painting cells with Janet Scagnelli at Chelsea Animation, which was fabulous. That doesn't even exist anymore. All painting cells with gloves on their hands.

At this time I was mostly assisting. I helped Janet to finish a job she was doing with doing with an animator who had passed away, John Gaug....a very talented animator, and I filled in and helped finish the commercial. You learned right there. Responsibility and production and delivering deadlines and finding ways to get things done. All your limitations come out at the same time. Then I got to animate with Michael Sporn. I fell in love with Michael's whole process. His style, the looseness of it...the stories. Michael's ability to find unconventional ways to communicate through animation. I was able to work on several films for Michael. Everything else happens...you get out more, you go to festivals...you talk to people, and slowly you get more jobs. You went to studios and showed them your work...you mostly got rejected...or there wasn't any work for you and you just kept going. We used to do all nighters...those things seem to be prerequisites for developing in Animation. I remember (MTV's) Liquid Television being a good thing to do at the time. MTV gave me two opportunities, "Smart Talk With Raisin" and "Angry Cabaret". "Smart Talk With Raisin" was for Liquid Television...that was their last season. It was supposed to be a two-parter. I did the first part, but then MTV cancelled Liquid Television.

"Smart Talk with Raisin" (1993)

DL: So "Smart Talk With Raisin" was a pilot?
JRD: I don't know if it was a pilot, but that's interesting. All these shorts were used as pilots! But, you weren't aware of it. You were just doing shorts. You were never told you were doing pilots. It's naive of the filmmaker to think "no" but, you were never told that. You were just given a small amount to produce it. "Smart Talk With Raisin" was done with Colossal pictures in San Francisco. Angry Cabaret... I don't know if that worked really well.

"Angry Cabaret" (1994)

DL: Was "Angry Cabaret" a vehicle to wrap music videos around, like Beavis and Butt-head?
JRD: Of course! They already had the Beavis and Butt-head experience. They had covered the music videos. I thought, we can do other things like show live action footage in a certain strange montage and just have music over that. But different kinds of music. We had a video DJ. MTV found a fantastic video editor. Ultimately I didn't want to do the series because they wanted me to do it there (at MTV's studio). Which means I would be an employee. I couldn't deal with that so it was a deal-breaker...and that was that. There was Nickelodeon as well...I met Linda (Simensky) there. They did beautiful things. I had a pilot there.

DL: Sniz & Fondu?
JRD: Then it was called "Psyched For Snuppa"....Masako Kanayama worked on it. They wanted me to the series too. I couldn't do that. I wasn't at all attracted to working with the creator...it was just too much. Mo (Willems) got a chance. I don't know what happened. Then they did those little shorts on Kablam! The one thing that always helped me out was my own conviction that I enjoyed making my own films. So throughout all of that, I was always making a film.

Sniz and Fondue, in their later incarnation post-Dilworth's involvement.

DL: Were these films like expensive business cards for you?
JRD: I just needed to do them.. I also wanted to be famous. I fell in love with the independent filmmakers from the 70s and the 80s. I really believed in the art. I believed that animation was a special vehicle in which to communicate ideas...and I still do. You make films to learn how to make films. I don't know how to do them still! (laughs). When you're making a film you're not deliberately saying 'this is what I'm going to explore.' But, there are serious symbols––the plane in Noodles and Ned is about freedom and being able to overcome something. It's very much like live action, nothing is by accident. You have a very active role in what your doing.

"Noodles and Ned" (1996)

The problem in my animation is that it is too attached to my own life. Of my commercial work, the only thing that I can say that is close to my life in a personal way is my Courage series. In Courage I was able to explore a lot of themes....and we did it so rapidly! How many short films can you make? What an opportunity. Most of my films are semi-autobiographical. My films tend to be about human feelings.

DL: What about something like The Dirdy Birdy, which on the surface, appears more like slapstick?
JRD: The surface. That film was about " Why are we attracted to things that are harmful to us? Why do we get into relationships that are so dysfunctional?"

"The Dirdy Birdy" (1994)

DL: It was functional for the Birdy.
JRD: Isn't it sad that there are people that only feel love through abuse or harsh behavior? (laughs) It's the only way they know that they're loved. Cartoons are perfect vehicles to express these things.

DL: Coyote and Road Runner.
JRD: We're they in love with each other?

DL: What would either of them have done without the other?
JRD: I know what you mean. Dirdy Birdy really fell in love with this cat. It turned out to be a codependent situation. They found something in common, you see? And what happens?...the Birdy fucks it up! Then the whole things starts again! It's a repetitive damaging cycle...anyway, it was funny.

DL: How would you define humor? What makes something funny in a cartoon?
JRD: That's a funny question. I like that question. I don't know what makes people laugh. I think I just do it subconsciously. You have to have some self control. You can't just put anything in. I also do things and show people. You can give 3 different people the same thing and you'll get 3 different opinions...but, something about a certain opinion will ring true to you and I don't know why, but, you'll explore that. Animation is such a collaborative thing...even if you do it yourself you're still working with some sound man, a camera man..and some assistant, and you can't help but become influenced.

DL: Courage, for the most part, is a non-verbal character. Were there any concerns with this limiting Courage's role as a lead character?
JRD: In the original short, "The Chicken From Outer Space", the dog didn't speak at all. In fact, nobody spoke. In the series, I wanted to have the dog talk...and we tried it. If you see the first half of Season one, Courage does a lot more talking then in the whole series and it really was the Cartoon Network that encouraged me not to have the dog talk. We limited his talking to screams, babbling and whines...and it works. That was a great call. I couldn't help but agree that it was better. These are no ordinary executives, at Cartoon Network. You know, I worked with some executives that don't have a clue. These are sharp characters...they believe in the art, the cartoons. Linda (Simensky), Mike (Lazzo) & Jay (Bastian)...we're very lucky.

The Oscar-nominated "The Chicken From Outer Space" (1995)

DL: You've had Armies of Eggplant, Handsome Duck Gods, Twisted hair-cutting relatives...
JRD: Eggplants were about accepting people that are different from you. (laughs). We got absurd, but the idea was there. Remember in the end? They all got along! It was team work. They all benefited.

DL: What about Freaky Fred?
JRD: We just invented that. I was talking to my head writer and he was telling me that he loved poetry. He loved writing it. Rhyme. I said, OK, why don't we do a story where the whole thing takes place in rhyme? That created this freaky barber. That's one of my favorite shows, Dave. You're just quoting old season one shows! You know Barbara Jean (Kearney) right? Well...she's Barbara, Freaky Fred's lover, you know when he goes back and he shaves all her head. You see the Dirdy Birdy with those monster faces? That's me! I'm the farmer (in Courage). Why do you think that character's so easy? I'm that cruel, bitter resentful man. (laughs) You know what? There's a real Muriel in Scotland. She's slightly modeled after that woman and a little bit after a friend of mine.

DL: You write most of the shows, correct?
JRD: I would say, yeah. 90% start with me and then we work with the team. It's an unusual way to work because some don't physically write. They sit with us and we write verbally. Our head writer, David Steven Cohen, assembles it all from the meeting.

DL: The backgrounds on Courage are among its most attractive features. They really set it apart from any other cartoons on television. How did the semi-photo realistic and highly textured BG style evolve from the simpler water color BGs of the pilot?
JRD: It's like that in the pilot too. It just evolved. Its the same soft ware. Painter and Photoshop. Is painter still used? What happened to it? Margaret Frey did all the BGs on the pilot. It just took off. After Season one we just kept building on it...it was a natural evolution. That department has fulfilled all of my desires...it's one of my favorite departments to spend time in. The color, backgrounds and props... We can't really get the dimension I'm looking for...It's like CGI, but there is something about CGI that I can't accept. I'm exploring that now. Now I'm doing my first CGI independent film. I am trying to get a sense of how my influence on the media could work or how I could express myself. Physically I can't do it. I have to rely on artists that do it. It's a whole other way of working. For the backgrounds, on Courage, I wanted to create a real sense of time. Dramatic lighting (laughs).

DL: What is the most enjoyable and rewarding part of the showmaking process for you?
JRD: We've been very lucky on Courage. We've mixed medias. We did one episode with CGI. A big experiment. Courage goes through a computer and he turns into a CGI Courage. He went through a portal, he can change...it's that looking glass. That was great fun and the Network just went with it.

DL: It is a paranormal show.
JRD: Oh, right! (LAUGHS) That is true.

DL: Do you do any of the animation on Courage at your studio?
JRD: We did walks...for all the main characters and maybe 30% of the rest.

DL: How did your rich history working for others effect the way you set up your studio?
JRD: I don't know...I just did whatever felt natural. I'm not a business man. We deliver our shows, they look great, the clients are happy, and we have a great relationship with our client. You have to be comfortable. You're a servant to the schedule when doing a series.

DL: Is the business hat something you wear for a certain amount of time each day?
JRD: You don't ever take it off.

DL: Is that a role you wanted to end up in?
JRD: I don't think you ever know until its on top of you...and then you swim. You just keep swimming. The biggest crisis you encounter is 'What's your next project?' or 'How many artists are you going to have to lay off?'

DL: What, if anything, on air now do you consider your competition?
JRD: I like SpongeBob. It happens sort of naturally.

DL: Did the Oscar Nomination for "The Chicken From Outerspace" (1996) open any doors for you?
JRD: That was a hundred years ago.

DL: Nominations don't expire.
JRD: You should talk to Nick Park. He's got three...if he gets one more he can put up a table. In 1996 we had the greatest year. We went all over the place. We met with everybody. The nomination lets you make appointments to see people at Amblin, WB... whether or not they are going to green light any projects is another thing all together. But, you go with it...and I wore my space suit to every meeting! With my silver boots! It's great fun...you're in La La Land! Ha! Ha! But, we didn't get any money. Eventually we knew we were going to do Courage. We just didn't want to do it with Hanna-Barbera. We waited for them to close. You knew something was happening. It took two years...

We did a series for CTW and CN called Ace & Avery. It was for young audiences. Three and under...some crazy thing, right? I'd never done that before. Noodles and Ned were wanted for this series, but I would have had to give up the rights to the characters...and I couldn't do that...so I created Ace and Avery for them, because you have to stay in business. Also, it was a funding thing, it pays for movies. They were experts in child development...looking at everything like designs, color, story...everything had to get approved not just by executives, but by specialists....and you couldn't argue with them. They were the PHDs. They knew about child development. How do we become these politicians where we can just accept and continue to work this way? Don't you resent it at Nick? Aren't there conflicts? Or do you just except that 'Blue's Clues is a children's program, these are the parameters in which I need to work'...that's the challenge and you do it?

DL: It's no different than someone working on your Courage. They all work within parameters and have to support your vision. There is a world and a standard to maintain.
JRD: That's a good point. I can see it...but, we don't have child specialists... We have different kinds of specialists...you know, that tell us not to make a character's skin too brown or it might get the attention of somebody who's skin looks like that. It's alright...Why are we being babies about it? A professional just does what they're told.

DL: That's the commercial nature of the business. That's why we do independent films outside of that.
JRD: I think it's all ego. We don't like to be told what to do. We don't like to have our ideas challenged. We want to be able to express ourselves...I think its all infantilism.

DL: Your films tend to be told with mainly visual storytelling techniques with little to no dialogue. What can you say about that?
JRD: I just think I'm reticent. I enjoy dialogue...but, I never feel comfortable doing it myself. I can express more just through expression...but, I can't say that we can just do that in an 80 minute picture. That would be something! (laughs). Would anybody sit through it?

DL: As an animator, how do you avoid the cliche and still make the actions and emotions clear?
JRD: You just THINK, right? You went to the Richard Williams master class. I have to tell you, I miss having tutors and mentors. That whole concept of someone older passing something down, some wisdom, to someone younger.

DL: In Richard Williams' book he says that when animators get older, their timing slows down.
JRD: I'm 39 now...at 28, I wasn't even touching the timing that I think I'm capable off. But, then at 33, 34 and 35 I really felt comfortable timing and I felt comfortable doing the art. I'm not very good at it. It's good that I believe so much in the individual way of drawing. No one should draw like Rembrandt. You draw your way...and that is the best way ever. But, timing? When do you start seeing the world slower? Did The Mouscochist seem slow to you?

DL: No.
JRD: No. So I don't know when It slows down. Maybe at 60, maybe at 70? Right? But, we don't know... I'm only now getting through the Richard Williams book...and its been a long time since I've sought out a book of such use.

DL: What was your animation book when you were starting out?
JRD: I think the book that had the most influence would be Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston's "The Illusion Of Life".

DL: How does your work style on your independent work differ from the way you work on Courage...or is it different?
JRD: On independent films you give yourself a deadline...it could be flexible to some degree but, if you don't give yourself a deadline you could work forever on something...

DL: Or never start it.
JRD: Or never start it. Good point. But it's hard to finish. You can start something, but how do you keep going? That's one thing I'm proud of. I can do that.

DL: Are there any plans to put a collection of John Dilworth shorts together for home video?
JRD: I don't know... I don't think I have that many that I actually own. I did a lot that were financed by others...Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network. I also have a few that are unwatchable. They would just be under the category of early work, immature work. And then, mature work, QUESTION MARK.

DL: Is there any larger metaphorical or personal meaning behind your new film, "The Mousochist?"
JRD: It was about being a jurist at Annecy (2001) and how repulsive I found the whole experience. We had some members that were very acrimonious to the films...and I felt that it wasn't a celebration of creation, but a celebration of who could defeat the next person. Individuals intended to destroy someone's work. I was opposed to that. I realize we're in a society where competition is vital...its the only real way discern between great art or meaningful art and mediocrity...and would we ever get a Michealango if he wasn't a competitive soul? But.... I'm opposed to this idea of competition is all we should live for..(Who is better than the next person). It (The Mousochist) came at certain crosswords...falling in love with this false illusion of being a jurist in a festival that was going to celebrate art and creativity and find the good things in these films...giving everyone an opportunity to have their work be seen...and it's about doing the series, and its about personal relationships. For me it's 'You went after the things that you could, that you desired,' and there you are...you can have it.. But, the thing is, you lose your head! I mean...Why do you go after these things that you know will harm you?!! It's naive.

"The Mousochist" (2001)

DL: The Mouse in "The Mousochist" may appear to be ignoring the cheese by reading a newspaper or exercising...but, it's really on his mind the whole time.

JRD: Right. But, also it's about going against his nature. I mean, how could he avoid the cheese? If there's something you desire it's going to be pretty hard to walk away from it. Why do we do the things (that at least on some level) we know is going to bring us harm? In the end, he got his cheese. Psychologically, it's fulfilling. But, how do you get out of it? I doubt he'll ever attach to his body again...and even if he does, is he going to be the same mouse? I don't think I executed the picture well enough...I'm not certain that people know that the mouse knows that the cheese is attached to a mouse trap. I've failed in that regard.

The Mousochist, we did in an island in Croatia on the Adriatic Sea. I was there and no one spoke English. I was staying at this beautiful place but, I wasn't talking to anyone and no one could talk to me. Between breakfast and lunch I would animate and then after lunch when everyone else was taking a siesta I would do it again and then go to the beach. It was just fabulous. It just worked out. The drawings are this big (gestures a 6 field). John pulls out a box of index card size drawings from The Mousochist. Including the mini BG.

DL: Did you corner register all the drawings?
JRD: Yeah, that's what I did. J. Stuart Blackton. The drawings are just shy of a 6 field. I had this metal straight edge that I held the drawings against. By the second week, I could flip five of these drawings! Talk about needing to draw and make something. I actually feel pretty comfortable doing little tiny drawings.

DL: What other creative endeavors do you have going on that people know least about?
JRD: Don't you feel that our lives should be creative in everything we do? As best that we can do? I mean, do I knit, do I cook? Yeah I do those things. I transplant trees. I sculpt. I paint. I do what you can. But, I don't know what else I'd be doing if there wasn't animation. Being in the service of other human beings would be a high thing for me. If I couldn't draw anymore, I'd be in some humanitarian field.

DL: What is the next big challenge for you? Any interest in working in feature films?
JRD: There's many things. I want to do this short CGI film. I'm also going to work on a new short film, something more substantial. We're waiting to hear word on a new pilot for Cartoon Network. I'd like to start development on a Courage feature. But, we'll see, I have to go down and start meeting with people....now that Power Puffs has come around. Courage would look fantastic as a feature, visually. I have a story. I just have to get the momentum. Courage is winding down now. By August or end of July we deliver our last show. Then I can focus more on the pilot and the feature. It's what I'd love to do. Then I also want to do an independent feature.

DL: A la Bill Plympton?
JRD: God! Is he not our hero?

DL: What does the "R" stand for in John R. Dilworth?
JRD: Rumplestilskin. Raamses. Reticent.

Courage the Cowardly Dog, season one, is available on DVD.

Xeth Feinberg's Adventures in Webtoondom, Part I and II

2011-07-10T06:30:00.000-07:00

I've been an appreciator of Webtoon pioneer, Xeth Feinberg, from the moment I first saw his work in the mid 1990s. We've since become friends and collaborators, having spent much of the last three years working closely together on a variety of animation projects.

When I became president of ASIFA-East in 2000, one my first goals was to revive the newsletter, creating a need to wrangle people to write articles. By 2001 it was clear that something historic had just happened in the bubble burst that destroyed much of the first internet media businesses. Because Xeth was a key player, as a paid director and content provider on these new platforms, I bugged him to get his then-recent experiences down on paper. On February 2, 2001 he wrote the sobering and informative "Adventures in Webtoondom, Part I, and, (almost exactly one year later) followed up with a part II.

There's all kinds of heroes in this business. On one side you have artists like Andreas Deja or Glen Keane that lend their talents to the support and glory of established institutions. On another side you have more entrepreneurial-minded individuals that carve their own path, as Xeth has. I'm delighted to be able to use this post to collect Xeth's essays on the historic early days of the internet cartoon, which although being fairly recent history, is still in need of being properly and respectfully preserved. Xeth's adventures are a reminder of the rise and fall of all animation eras, as well as our collective ability to survive and reinvent ourselves no matter what the industry throws at us.

ADVENTURES IN WEBTOONDOM, Part I
(written Feb 2, 2001)

by Xeth Feinberg

Over the past year I found myself swept up in the middle of "The Great
Webtoon Explosion of 2000." I was in the right place and time when the
mysterious powers that be, flush with hubristic venture capital, decided
that short, easily down-loadable cartoons were going to spearhead a new
wave in web-based mass entertainment.

As an independent animator and cartoonist with a background in CD-ROM
animation, at the dawn of the new millennium I had been mastering the
potential of Macromedia Flash (the miraculous little computer
application that makes webtoons possible) for a bit over a year -- which
practically made me a wizened old expert in the field.

In 1999 I was already making my pseudo silent era black and white
"Bulbo" animations, cut my teeth on a series of childrens' interactive
storybook webtoons, and created the first more or less fully animated
webtoon series for Scifi.com, "The Existential Adventures of
Astro-Chimp." I also did enough other freelance Flash production work to
have learned a lot about how NOT to efficiently produce webtoons. I
worked solo and was able to turn out a finished webisode in a week or
less. All this work was getting seen, and though I was making a living
at it, web animation still seemed more like a fluke than a career.

Xeth Feinberg's silent era-flavored creation, Bulbo.

At the start of 2000 things started heating up. New web portals and
"destination sites" were being touted (and funded) as the "next
television." Because Flash animation files (unlike video) were small
enough to be easily viewed by the average websurfer, demand for them exploded.

In January, I was contacted by a startup called Icebox.com. Located in
Los Angeles, Icebox was founded by TV animation writers from shows like
"The Simpsons" and "King of the Hill," and well-funded by e-investors.
The idea was to get a bunch of TV-legitimized professional writers to
create the number one online original animation site... but they still
needed "un-famous" animators and directors like me to actually produce
the shows.

Icebox sent over a couple scripts and the best belonged to writer Mike
Reiss, a long time executive producer for "The Simpsons" and co-creator
of "The Critic." Mike had an idea for a surreal little series called
"Hard Drinkin' Lincoln," featuring Honest Abe as a drunken lout who routinely ends up being shot by a comparatively sympathetic John Wilkes Booth.

You'd drink too if you had the responsibility of holding the Union together.

Though he hardly knew how to get online at the time, Mike's scripts were
intuitively well-suited to the web. They were short (under 3 minutes
total), mixed verbal humor with at least one good visual bit each
episode (avoiding the deadly "talking head" webtoon syndrome) and --
just as importantly given the tight deadlines -- could be produced in
about a week. Starting in March, "Lincoln" appeared weekly as one of
Icebox.com's first and ultimately most popular offerings, eventually
totaling 14 episodes. Icebox soon offered "Hard Drinkin" T-shirts,
stickers and drink-coasters to fan the buzz.

Icebox gave total creative control to it's writers and, fortunately for
me, Mike Reiss immediately took to my character designs, storyboards and
animation style. Communicating mostly through email, Mike and I
developed an easy collaboration: He basically left the art and direction
to me, typically making relatively minor notes on the finished episodes
a few days before they posted. Mike supervised the vocal recording in
Los Angeles and edited the files. I handled the music and overall sound
design with the help of my audio producer Sam Elwitt. Ultimately I
assembled the final Flash file in my New York studio with the help of
only one or two part-time helpers at any given time.

In September, Mike and I teamed up again to produce a second series for
Icebox. "Queer Duck" chronicles the adventures of a bunch of outrageously gay animals drawn in an almost cuddly cute style. The
launch date was set for National Coming Out Day on Oct. 11... leaving
basically only 10 weeks to completely design, direct and animate the
first five episodes from the time I first saw the scripts. Featuring
vocals by Jim J. Bullock, RuPaul, Billy West, Seinfeld's Estelle Harris
(as Queer Duck's mother Mrs. Duckstein), "Queer Duck" became the most
popular series on Icebox with some 50,000 viewers logging on the first
day it posted. Once again stickers and posters were printed, mentions
appeared in national magazines and newspapers, and a Queer Duck-suited
lackey even marched in Gay Pride parades to great acclaim.

Queer Duck sharing a bed with Openly Gator.

Everything happened so fast I didn't have time to put together a larger
capacity production team even if I really wanted to. Just keeping up
with Icebox took most of my time. Nevertheless, in early-summer 2000 I
found myself in the middle of a bizarre bidding war for my old character
"Bulbo," who had meanwhile won a couple awards including the New York
Flashforward 2000 web award for "Best Cartoon" and ASIFA-EAST's
"Excellence in Writing" award.

Infamous never-was POP.COM (their lawyer's first question was "can we
buy your company?") wanted to get Bulbo cartoons on their site. Luckily,
currently-existing San Francisco-based Mondomedia.com presented a more
intriguing webtoon syndication plan that also preserved all my rights
while providing production funds upfront. (I was frankly lucky in
signing the Bulbo deal in the summer, when the world of webtoons was
still near it's peak.) Though things have certainly cooled off, since
November thirteen Bulbo cartoons have been floating around the web with
the rest of Mondo's well-received "Mini-Shows."

So here we are in early 2001. The well-documented dotcom meltdown has
clobbered web animation along with many of the entertainment sites that
sponsored it. Icebox at one point had over 100 employees but is now
seeking a new round of funding. Plans for up to 15 new "Queer Ducks" and
five more "Lincolns" are on hold, along with other projects. Mondomedia,
a more flexible company, has scaled back its short-term expectations for
Bulbo's impending world-wide hegemony. Mishmash Media's nifty loft-like
office on West 28th Street, rented in June and designed to handle the
40-plus high-budget webtoons I expected this year, may have to be
abandoned for a more humble space.

In some ways, the web animation scene has come full circle. Just like in
1999 there's still work and opportunity out there but the crazy boomtown
mentality is gone, at least for now. If you got into web animation like
I did -- as a way to make your own stuff cheaply, creatively, with
minimal outside interference, taking advantage of the web's miraculous
world-wide distribution system -- then there's still a lot to be excited about.

Adventures in Webtoondom, One Year Later
Or, The Odd Case Of "Queer Duck"
(written Feb 1, 2002)

by Xeth Feinberg

Last February, when I wrote an article for this newsletter detailing my
exploits as an independent Flash animator, the internet bubble had
already burst like an infected boil and the virtual dust was settling
upon the remains of countless web-based entertainment schemes and mostly
forgettable webtoons.

With as much zen-like calm as I could muster, I watched hard-won
production deals morph into so many "recipient unknown" emails as
companies I'd been cranking out cartoons like "Hard-Drinkin Lincoln,"
"Queer Duck" and "Bulbo" for went belly up or down-scaled into near
invisibility. Nobody wanted to fund original internet animation once
somebody somewhere finally pointed out that there was no working
business model. It was just like the documentary "Startup.com" only with
cartoons. Fortunately, I did have a working business model.
Unfortunately, it was producing and selling animation to the other guys.

With a heavy heart and a pretty good party, I bailed out of the nifty
Mishmash Media loft space on 28th Street I'd confidently rented just
nine months before. (Note to people inexperienced with Manhattan
commercial landlords: Don't try this at home.) I consoled myself with
the knowledge that many smarter, more sophisticated people had
over-extended themselves far worse.

I spent the summer getting back to basics: Thinking about some cartoon
ideas, driving across the country, and goofing off. After two years of
meeting crazy deadlines, it was a welcome, if unsettling, break.

Xeth, a prolific writer and cartoonist cranks out numerous wonderful gag cartoons, such as this one, each year.

Visiting Los Angeles, I parlayed my vast fame into lunch with the
founders of Icebox.com (the formerly leading animation website that
fueled my own rise and fall), snuck into a party where Matt Groening
said he was a big fan of my Bulbo series, and got a free T-shirt at the
Cartoon Network.

During all this time, there was one blip of potential on the horizon:
What would happen with "Queer Duck?"

In the fall of 2000 I designed, directed and animated five episodes of
"Queer Duck" for Icebox.com. Written and created by Mike Reiss, who won
Emmy's for his work on "The Simpsons" and "The Critic," "Queer Duck"
follows the off-kilter adventures of a gay waterfowl and became Icebox's
most popular show. It was also the only one that anybody else wanted to
invest in. When Icebox went bankrupt in February, 2001 (something I
learned by reading a blurb in the New York Times) there were still
rumors of funding more Queer Ducks. Good news, especially since I was
still owed money for three of the original episodes.

The next eight months involved endless phone calls trying to keep tabs
on all the bankruptcy mess. By mid-September, when acrid skyscraper
smoke billowed through my Brooklyn apartment window, Queer Duck seemed
doomed, not to mention incredibly trivial. Imagine my surprise when I
suddenly started getting calls from a lawyer at Showtime Networks.
Showtime had been struggling to wrestle free the rights to Queer Duck,
feeling it would be a perfect compliment to their hit cable show "Queer
As Folk," and had finally succeeded.

In only three and a half more months of expensive agony, the lawyers
worked out a simple 30-plus page agreement that let me get back involved
in the project. Soon I was happily storyboarding 15 inspired new Mike
Reiss scripts, this time for a company that had been in business for
more than eight months.

Working out of Brooklyn, and taking full advantage of Flash's
flexibility and the ability to work in a 'virtual office' by email and
computer, I'm now churning out the new Queer Ducks on another manic
schedule. Veteran flash animator Chris Siemasko and musical producer Sam
Elwitt round out the Mishmash Media team, while vocals (featuring Jim J.
Bullock, Billy "Ren and Stimpy" West, Tress MacNeil, Estelle "George
Costanza's Mother" Harris and others) are recorded in Los Angeles,
overseen by Mike Reiss and coordinated by Joel Kuwahara.

Animation production started in early December and on January 23 SHO.COM
unveiled an impressive new website with the original Icebox era
episodes. Each week one of the new three minute cartoons is posted, and
every Tuesday night "Queer Duck" is also shown on TV right after the new
season of "Queer As Folk." (Demonstrating again the flexibility of that
swell little Macromedia Flash application.)

No one will confuse the animation in "Queer Duck" with "Fantasia" (as if
that's what we were after), but it does a good job of bringing the
flamboyant characters and fabulous story to life with zest and personal
style, in record time -- if I do say so myself. (Nudge nudge to anybody
reading this at a network that's using more of this new technology.)
Even while animation in general is in a sad slump, like a truly flaming
phoenix, Queer Duck has miraculously risen from the internet junk heap
to find a new and bigger audience.

The cheerful and resilient Queer Duck spawned a wonderful direct to DVD feature, directed by Xeth, in 2006, and the fowl character resurfaced again, this year, in new animation Xeth created as a trailer for the upcoming San Francisco Jewish Film Festival. It seems, you can't keep a good duck down.

Check out Xeth's work at: mishmashmedia.com.

Animondays Interview: Doug TenNapel

2011-07-03T07:48:00.000-07:00

Continuing with another interview post from my archives, this time I'm happy to share the unpublished portions of an interview I conducted with creator Doug TenNapel (pictured above) in 2008. The subject is on pitching and development for the animated series, something Doug knows a lot about. He's best known for creating Earthworm Jim, a character that spawned a famous video game, cartoon series, and toy line. He followed up that success with a short-lived series on Nickelodeon called Catscratch, and is currently working on a Cartoon Network original series called Phibian Mike.

Doug seems to have that particular blend of talent, tenacity, and salesmanship that you need to break through to success in such a rarified capacity within this fickle industry. Just what was Doug's creative approach to churning out pitch after successful pitch? I was interested to find out...

1-Describe how much you typically prepare for a first pitch meeting
(including what amount of art and written material)?

All of the time goes into creating the thing, so coming up with the pitch materials is the shortest part of process for me. Many of the characters I pitch have been on my work desk for years so when I finally decide to pitch them I just bang out a page or two of written material and maybe do three to five pages of art.

Usually I'll type up the pitch in a few days and do little sketches and doodles directly on the printed page. It's not very professional but it forces the executives to consider the visual as they read the material. Shows end up on a screen and there are no words to read in the final form so it seems odd to have the pitch written in some dry format that is usually only written because the language of Hollywood is the word on the page.

(A still from TenNapel's creation, Nickelodeon's Catscratch)

2-Have you ever created or pitched a project with one or more partners? If so, what were the pros and cons?

I've only partnered up with one guy in my life. I did Project GeeKer with Doug Langdale and it was a great experience. It just wasn't for me. I still run into Doug from time to time and I think we worked out so well on GeeKer because it was relatively early in our careers and it was the right project at the right time. I've made offers to certain partners where I was interested in writing with them or doing a show but those shows never took off.

3-At what point does a creator require legal representation (a lawyer)? And what's the best way to find a good lawyer specializing in animated entertainment?

The best time to get a lawyer is when a studio shows interest in something you've made. The legal side of television is pretty boiler plate on most shows so there aren't any big surprises. If you go to a lawyer that specializes in animation you've already limited the pool to about 12 people...all of whom will have done more deals than you've had warm meals.

4- How much effort have put into copyrighting your creations prior to pitching? If so, what steps did you take?

I do little or none. I have so many hundreds of characters that I couldn't copyright them all. Once the pitch starts getting heat at the studio, I might secure the domain name (if available) but it's never a big deal. Just before the contracts are about to be signed I'll usually properly copyright everything since most contracts want to make sure you indeed own the property you're pitching.

5-How would you describe your pitching style? Can you describe how you pitch in a meeting, step by step? (NOTE: part of this answer already appears in my book Animation Development.)

My style is short and to the point. Once we start talking about the show, I'm not going to use a lot of flashy images and memorized junk to make my show about a two-headed monkey seem like less of a show about a two-headed monkey.

All pitch meetings start with the studio offering me water. I think it's because they assume we show creators are probably homeless and we can't afford a 1 dollar bottle of water. They offer water, but I ask for coffee. I'm usually seated at a conference room table or sit in the office of the executive featuring witty furniture and a few hard bound art books they
didn't read but make them look like they really like some obscure graffiti artist from Iceland. We chat about the weather, about my four kids, about my height (I'm 6'8"), about my graphic novels, and sooner or later we move to the material I set on the coffee table.

I keep the pitch SHORT because length doesn't accomplish anything (trust me on this, I'm 6' 8"). I'll give the title "KID BLAST!", a description of type of show,"It's a puppet animated action comedy for boys six to eleven." then I'll give a brief description of the show's content, "It's about a kid and his gingerbread dog who just want to 'have a blast' everywhere they go. You see, the kid and dog like to have fun but the dog is made of cookie so they can't get him wet and bad guys want to eat him. By the end of each show the dog is eaten or melted and Kid Blast just bakes up another batch of his favorite mutt."

I show them one image of the kid and his dog, present them with a paragraph description of the show, a paragraph description of the main characters and three to five sample episode ideas and our meeting can be done. I'm already checking my watch and offering the executive an out in case the material just isn't for them. They usually have a few questions to feel out the material. It really isn't that hard of a decision at this point, either they get it and see dollar signs or see it as something that will kill their
career if they make it. Sometimes we go back to talking about movies or friends and families, or how interesting my artwork is in the pitch material, but essentially, a show has been pitched.

A low res work-in-progress still from one of TenNapel's Solomon Fix, a short he made for Frederator's Random Cartoon program, which gave the creator a chance to play in 3D animation.

6-How useful have pitching extras (such as a bit of finished animation, voice or song track) been to you in a typical pitch meeting?

If I could afford to animate them properly I wouldn't need a studio to pay me to do it in the first place!

I think executives like to participate a little more in the execution of the show. If you cast one bad voice or have one bad joke at the wrong time, you've just put a really bad thought in one of the world's less creative minds. You're not going to be able to get them to imagine the show any other way than what you've shown, and that's usually a bad thing. If I was doing a Pee Wee's Playhouse, I don't see how an executive could get the pitch without seeing something visual first...but with most pitches, the executive will imagine something better than you could produce. Let the execution be vague.

7-Do you have any recommendations for how to best write world/set-up, character, and plot descriptions for a series pitch bible?

Every show really only revolves around a few characters. Get the heavies right and don't worry about the rest. If the supplemental characters are great and the chemistry between your lead characters stink, then it won't save the show. But if your lead characters are right on and the world, episode samples, spelling is wrong nobody cares. They can make GOLD out of the core group.

I spend most of the time thinking out why these characters need to be together, what they represent, what a young audience will find exciting and accessible about them that I don't think a whole lot else is needed.

8- Any advice for creating show art for use in a series pitch bible? For, example, how much, and what is essential?

The lead characters, a bad guy and maybe a background is all that's needed. Frankly, I would pick up or drop a show based on the main characters. If the core characters are good you've got a show. I don't care how appealing the main character's uncle's dog is.

9- How did you find your creative team to produce your pilots?

I call in people I know. Usually the core team are going to be my go-to guys who solve all of my problems for me over the last twelve years. I pick up a few superstars along the way so I know who I want for most of the positions on a show. I like to have friends on board, but I like to work with talented jerks too. And we're all kept alive by young, fresh killer talent just coming out of college. There are always these mavericks who show up drawing like an old-school Disney guy though they've just turned twenty one.

10-Any advice for new comers to pitching on how to best manage & cope with the emotional rollercoaster inherent in the pitching process?

You have to learn to enjoy pitching. You will pitch lots of shows before one is picked up for a pilot. You might even make a few pilots before one goes to series. I always feel better about a pitch if I know I've done my best. An executive might not like me show but I'd feel really bad if I wasted their time by not bringing them my best material for what I think should work on their network. After a year or so of pitching, the nerves started going away. Now I can pitch to anyone and I don't feel stress. I've pitched to everyone from Spielberg to Sam Raimi's company to Disney Channel. It's just fun now to see if I can get an executive hooked on my characters! You know what's cool? Most executives WANT to be hooked on some exciting story!

Animondays Interview: CORDELL BARKER

2011-06-25T07:49:00.000-07:00

I want to switch gears for a bit and use some posts to publish some interviews I conducted with some of today's top talents working in North American animation. Today's interview, with twice Oscar-nominated Cordell Barker, dates from 2009 for use in my book Directing Animation. I first met Cordell in Annecy 2001, and then a few times after that in Ottawa. As a longtime admirer of his work dating back to his infectious NFBC film "The Cat Came Back" (1988), I was thrilled to have the opportunity to ask Cordell some questions about his work and process. While I used a lot of his answers in my book, I'm pleased to be able to share the unused portions of the interview on this post. I repeated one section (used in the book) where Cordell talks about his influences, just because it was fun to include links to the films he referenced. Hope you enjoy!

Biography:
Cordell Barker was born in Winnipeg in 1956. He began his career in 1974 working for Sesame Street and collaborating on a number of commercials. In 1982, he joined the NFB where he made his first film, The Cat Came Back (1988). The short was a huge audience favourite and garnered 16 awards in addition to picking up an Oscar® nomination. He subsequently returned to advertising, directing commercials for major companies (Bell Canada, Nike, Coca Cola, etc.) before returning to filmmaking with Strange Invaders (2001). It turned out to be another sensational hit, winning 16 awards and receiving an Oscar® nomination. Runaway (2009), (pictured below) his third film and third collaboration with the NFB, is likewise an absurd comedy filled with latent social satire. As a filmmaker who focuses on pacing, action and narrative, Cordell Barker enjoys this particular form of expression because it enables him to make the most of his incisive sense of humour.

1- Who are your indie animation hereos and what has their work taught you?
An obvious animation hero of mine is Richard Condie (The Big Snit). His films really make the most of distilling character animation down to its simplest form. It wasn’t about the animation, it was about the timing and poses of simple cycles and strong poses. It doesn’t hurt that his ideas were also extremely funny. And that he lives in the same city as me. Another would have to be Paul Driessen (An Old Box). There was something extremely poetic in the animation and timing of his characters that were like beautifully balletic lumps of lard.

2-In your indie films, in what areas have you sought out collaboration with other creative people and why?
The only real collaboration I’ve sought out is in the audio. I’m not a musician so I have to find someone who can bring that component into the mix. This is always a difficult process as music is so abstract. You can discuss it all you want, but it’s such a flowing ephemeral thing that it can be hard to pin down. The second you hear the note played it is gone. Not like working with a graphic artist where you can sit and stare at the drawing and discuss it in concrete terms. With a musician you can discuss endlessly and never be sure that you’re talking about the same thing. Also, I have a very strong sense of what I want musically, but since I’m not a musician, I can’t adequately describe it or play it in any way. This is obviously very unfair on the musician. Now that’s for the musician. As for the sound designer, that’s a whole different story. Working with the sound designer is a much more concrete process where I have a complete involvement. I really love fully immersing myself in this part. I think I might be a bit of a control freak.

3-Is there a secret to good communication with your collaborators?
I’m not sure there’s any secret to collaboration. The one thing I’ve learned is that it doesn’t work to settle on something so that everyone can get along and stay friendly. It doesn’t serve the film. Often in the past, on a commercial job, to be the nice guy I would say “sure that works”, even though I didn’t feel it was 100% right. And then invariably it would bite me in the ass later. A client would notice that it didn’t work quite right and I would cringe because I let it go, knowing it was wrong. So, I’ve learned that to be a director, you have to be willing to be the bad guy. You have to keep asking for changes even when you now it’s wearing down the other guy – because you’re the one that has to live with your film the rest of your life. Everyone else is ultimately just a hired contributor that doesn’t have the same depth of investment of time and commitment as you.

4-Do indie animation directors get stereotyped as comedy or action or etc?
And, if so, does that have a negative impact on one's industry career? And, what can be done about it? I think any stereo-typing that goes on in indie filmmaking is completely self imposed. By definition and indie filmmaker is creating his own project that he/she can guide along to their hearts content. If I wanted to make a serious film, I could just decide to do it and that would be it. Trouble is, I’m trapped by my own sensibilities.

5-What part of directing animation gives you the most satisfaction?
The greatest satisfaction in the animation process for me is the timing of the animation, after the agony of completing the drawings. Also, the editing is fun. Timing the shots and cutting frames here and there can really bring the film alive. And maybe the most satisfying of all is working with the sound designer. It’s amazing how much the sound can make or break a film, and the pleasant part of the sound design is how rapidly it all goes together. The animation can take years and the sound can be a matter of a couple of weeks.

6-What methods have been the most effective in giving notes and feedback to your animators (assuming you do this)? And, what has not worked so well, and why?
Generally I just talk to them. But sometimes I’ll take their Quicktime linetest and put it into Adobe AfterEffects where I can cut up their linetest and affect the timing. I can even cut up the body of the character to alter timing of various body parts within the action of a single character. If it gets too complicated, though, it falls back to a face to face conversation, or I will sketch over their keys with a very crude drawing that captures the general shape of what I’m after. I never worry about the details. In fact, I usually have to beg my assistants to stop putting in so much detail on initial drawings.

More fun on the tracks from Cordell Barker, pictured in this still from The Cat Came Back.

7-Where did you learn your sense of timing, acting, staging, and storytelling that is so essential in directing animation?
I’m not so sure I really learned any of this stuff from an outside source. A lot of it is innate. Either you have it or you don’t. It’s a matter of being able to look at things a certain way, having a certain sensibility and having a specific sense of rhythm. You, of course, have to experiment with it all for it to float to the surface, but if you don’t have these abilities within you, I think you could fight and struggle with it forever.

8- What has watching your films play to audience taught you, that you would not have discovered otherwise?
Watching with an anonymous audience is the only real reaction you get. When I’m finishing production of a film I never get any feedback of any kind from anyone. It’s only ever complete strangers that seem to give an honest reaction. And it is immensely satisfying to hear an audience react to a specific moment in my film by laughing on cue. That’s the advantage of trying to make a funny film – if it works you actually get a quantifiable reaction – an audible laugh. That’s why making an intended funny film is such a difficult project - If you don’t get the laugh, the moment just hangs there and you feel like a failure.

9- Besides your indie films, what other goals would you like to achieve in your career in animation?
I’ve always wondered how I would fare making a feature film. A huge jump from a short film to a feature, but in many ways making a concise short is probably more difficult. You don’t have the screen time to elaborate on an idea in a short film so the need to be super concise is unrelenting.

10- What is your secret to sticking with an indie film through to completion?
This is a tough one. I’m not sure how I keep going. I think maybe it’s a bit of ego. I define myself by my previous successes so my ego drives me forward to achieve the same success, which is the gateway to the next level – whatever that might me. But that being said, when I look back on runaway, I’m not sure how I got through it because that film was the toughest slogging I’ve ever done.

A still from Strange Invaders.

Hiatus Extended

2011-06-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

In the meantime, Happy (belated) Father's Day to all the dads out there!

Hiatus

2011-05-30T05:11:00.000-07:00

ANIMONDAYS is on hiatus until June 20. See you soon!

The Changing Face of NY Animation

2011-05-22T12:00:00.001-07:00

Above image from Ugly Americans, a series for Comedy Central, now in season two production at Augenblick Animation.

A few factors have contributed to a recent shift in NYC animation TV series production. Since the early 70s, the local industry has been dominated by projects for preschoolers or children. From Sesame Street to The Wonder Pets, this trend lasted nearly four decades. While there has been other animation made for different audiences in the big apple during this span of time, such as commercials, specials, industrials, etc., series work is unique in that it tends to employ the largest amount of people for the longest period of time.

The preschool/children’s series work was dominant for so long that many generations of local talent cut their teeth on that work, probably forever changing the nature of their careers as well as the direction of their artistic and filmic growth. Working on animated projects for such a young audience has its pros and cons. The benefits are honing your skills in the service of clear staging, creating readable actions, and learning how to telegraph the story point or curriculum needs scene to scene. Along the way, you try to make the animation as entertaining and engaging as possible, despite the limitations of the genre. The negatives to working on series for young audiences is the overly-simplified film language, lack of any real distinct characterizations to base interesting or diverse animated performances on, and the stifling even-pacing of the storytelling. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing about animation for young audiences that requires or necessitates these defects. These weaknesses just happen to be in most of the series work being produced today.

While dominating the local industry for so long, it seems like NYC’s days as a center of preschool/children’s animation are coming to a close. This happened because of a few factors. The first was the economic crisis of 2008 and recession that followed it, both of which created less series work, period. The second factor was the risky business model of studios organized around the visions of single creators acting as their own idea-bank, and depending on their gifts as creators and salespeople to keep workstations occupied in expensive Manhattan studios. No matter how gifted a creator is at inventing and selling shows, the very nature of the entertainment business ensures (at best) interruptions in workflow. The disruption, halt of production, or complete business failure at some of these studios devoted to preschool works helped set the stage for the next era of NY Animation.

While the single creator-run studio has proven a flawed business model, the studios set up to produce other creator’s works (not just their own brainchilds) are thriving. In this category are Augenblick Animation (producing Ugly Americans), Titmouse East (producing Super Jail, The Venture Bros. etc.), and Curious Pictures (producing Team Umizoomi). It's noteworthy that the surviving productions and new series work is (more often than not), geared towards the older “Adult Swim” audience. At present time, Team Umizoomi is the only large-scale preschool/children’s series being fully produced in New York. With Sesame English (a massive 3-year animated project) drawing to a close, and The Electric Company having recently wrapped, it’s hard to see signs of life in the preschool/children’s animation scene.

Adding to the trend of adult animation being made in the Big Apple is a new series I’m directing for the Adult Swim series, Tight Bros., which is produced by Clambake Animation, a Boston-based studio who’s in house crew of storyboard artists, character designers, background artists, sound designers, and editors are augmented by my New York-based team of six local animators.

Not since the hay day of MTV Animation of the 1990s have this many adult oriented projects been in production in this city, and now, with overall reduced series activity––effectively diminishing preschool/childrens’ projects, this is probably the first time that animation for an older audience has dominated local production.

I can’t say that this trend will stick. Who knows what is around the corner? Newer platforms for animation such as podcasts, apps, and broadband channels will likely have an effect, and it’s likely to grow opportunities for diverse new areas of animation. Ipad apps seem particularly suitable for youngish educational projects, but the question is, will those projects ever have the budgets or staff akin to a traditional series production?

No matter what the future holds, today NY animation is in the grip of a different kind of animation. For the first time animation graduates are cutting their teeth on Adult animated projects with the potential to spend much of their career on such productions. I think that’s cause for celebration. Super Jail is an inventively animated show, all of it hand drawn. The Venture Bros. features sophisticated and cinematic storylines and complex characters. Ugly Americans features a style that Variety writer Brian Lowry described as “vaguely resembling EC Comics of the 1950s.” Whatever your opinion on Adult Swim-style content, there’s no doubt that these projects offer a more expansive playground to the animation artist. I can't see how that could be a bad thing for the future of NY animation.

Observations on The Animation Thesis Process and Student Mission Statements

2011-05-11T12:54:00.005-07:00

Since it’s graduation time there’s a lot of animation student thesis films in the air. Even though all the local animation schools have their own culture and methods of teaching animation, they have one thing in common, which is the promotion of the idea as the animator as a filmmaker/auteur. This is why animation art students are expected to be the writer, designer, animator, and producer of their own films. Some even supply their own voices or music, expanding on their creative juggling act even further. For the students ready to do all this, it’s a great opportunity to strut their stuff. For the rest of the students it can be an uncomfortable uphill battle, at best.

I think this is a big problem with the local animation educations. How does it make sense to take a senior who is still having problems doing basic animation and require them to take on those other roles at the same time? Besides, the experience of completing your own film from start to finish in complete solitude doesn’t really prepare one for the idea of working in collaboration with other artists, a skill students will need to master if they are to build a career in animation. I think encouraged or mandatory collaboration could be the key, where small groups of students work as production units and make a film together. While that wouldn’t be without its problems or challenges, there would be a potential gain in how students could keep each other honest and hitting deadlines. The whole process could be overseen by a thesis advisor, which would help mediate any conflicts (both personal and creative) that arise. Not only could this make the quality of the films higher, it would result in better reel/portfolio samples, and (most importantly) ensure that the students learn key lessons in communication, teamwork, and production.

As the system stands now in the local schools, besides making their own films, students are also required to hand in a short mission statement concerning their vision as filmmakers. I think these are very instructive, not only to see where the students are coming from, but also as proof of how their educations in our local institutions could be improved. Looking through all the mission statements I kept coming across the words “worlds” and “universe.” For the students using this description, their attraction to animation was that it let them create unique worlds, and, or, their own universe. On the surface I get that. Animation does give its creator Deity-like powers to invent everything in an animated film, but what level of that should be in the hands of a student that has problems drawing the most basic of movement? The freedom of a thesis film puts all that responsibility squarely on the shoulders of students, whether ready to create an entire universe or not.

I also worry about the lack of standards that may go along with the “it’s my world” outlook. There’s a great potential for uneven or unfocused work under that umbrella because it makes such a great catch all excuse and defense for weak results.

The next bit that lots of the mission statements had in common was the idea that the filmmakers make work for the approval of family and friends. That is a sweet, honest, and understandable sentiment, one that is representative of the starting place for just about every animation professional. Who among us didn’t start out making films or drawings for their immediate family and friends? That truly is our first audience. It’s often a place of unconditional love and support. But, a college graduate stepping out into the world has to broaden their horizons because he/she will put out next works as professionals ready for professional critique. Once a part of the industry, there is a new set of standards, ones that are much more critical and objective. I’m still trying to learn how to better take criticism from my peers and mentors and I’m 37 years old! I'm proof it can take time to truly get to the stage where you’re ready to hear a real critique of your work; so don’t put that off longer than necessary!

On a very positive note, many of the mission statements demonstrated a desire to become a link in animation's collective chain, to honor the past by trying to create worthy works for today's and future audiences. That's a powerful and primal motivation for doing art, reminding me of the bridge between eons of humanity you experience in Wernor Herzog's new documentary feature "Cave of Forgotten Dreams," (pictured above).

ASIFA-East

2011-05-07T16:06:00.000-07:00

The Best in Show of ASIFA-East's 2011 Animation Festival, Andy Kennedy's "Accumulonimbus." How cool that the Best in Show went to an experimental film made by a young filmmaker new to entering our festival!

"Backwards," Last year's Best in Show from the ASIFA-East Animation Festival, another victory for new blood in this win by fresh talents' Aaron Hughes and Lisa Labracio.

The Rauch Bros. and the subjects of their 2009 Best in Show win from the ASIFA-East Animation Festival, the lovely film Q & A. It was the second-ever short, by these young brothers.

The ASIFA-East festival reception makes a great place for animation folk of all levels and ages to come together, inspire each other, and foster important relationships. This photo by Joe Bluhm, depicting a typical cluster of activity around Mr. Bill Plympton.

Many a time at an ASIFA-East board meeting, we board members have asked ourselves, “What value are we giving our members for their dues?” and, “What role or relevance does ASIFA-East play in an ever-changing media landscape where people can access so many films online and have a zillion other ways to connect and keep in touch with other without even leaving their homes?”

In some ways it’s easier to answer what ASIFA-East is not. It’s not a union, a guild, an employment office, nor an animation studio. It has no agenda other than to continue to serve the area’s animation artists, students, industry professionals of all stripes, and cartoon and film aficionados by helping foster a sense of community that goes beyond our ties to what particular studio or job we may or may not be working at month-to-month.

So, if ASIFA-East is none of those things above, and aims to serve the community, then how does it do that? Even though everyone makes his or her own experience with the organization, here’s what ASIFA-East officially offers:

-Free drawing classes to its members.
-An original and up-to-date online interactive magazine (The Exposure Sheet) that features articles, reviews, event reports, interviews, an international ASIFA report, editorials, and free advertising space. In addition, the website also lists almost every animation-related event in town, making it the only go-to place of its kind.
-Monthly (sometimes bi-monthly) free events open to both members and non-members. The April event was an evening with The Rauch Bros., presenting the behind-the-scenes story of their StoryCorps films. We also host retrospectives (such as our evening with Oscar-winning filmmakers Frank and Caroline Mouris), annual “Business for Animators” workshops (featuring Steven Zelin, The Singing CPA!), panels (represented recently by a “State of the Industry” night, a spotlight on the CGI/SFX/Motion Graphics community, a behind the scenes look at indie animated features in production, and coming in June: a focus on the new model of Virtual Studio production.) In the recent past, we’ve also presented evenings with such legends as Yuri Norstein, Richard Williams, Ray Harryhausen, and Bruno Bozzetto, as well as historical programs of rare cartoons curated by animation historians Jerry Beck, Greg Ford, Bill Lorenzo, and Howard Beckerman. Additionally, each year we program a specific international-flavored event to coincide with International Animation Day in October.
-E-mail blasts and Twitter feed to members, reminding them of upcoming events or spreading timely news and important updates.
-A “Friends of ASIFA-East” Facebook group, which helps spread information and tally expected head counts for our monthly events through invites.
-Funds permitting, we throw a kick-ass post-holiday party, such as the one we held in January at Gonzalez Y Gonzalez in downtown Manhattan. Members got in free, and guests could enjoy all they could eat and drink for the small donation of $5. This is the type of thing we’d love to be able to afford to do every year, but, as we need to be fiscally responsible, it’s not always in our means.

Besides the monthly events, drawing classes, services, and occasional parties, there are two annual events designed to make sure members and non-members have a chance to get their work screened. The first option is free, requires no submission process, and is simply a great opportunity to screen some of your animation; be it your latest reel, a pencil test you made that morning, a work-in-progress indie short, a student film, etc. We call this our “Open Screening” and it traditionally falls in September or October so we can be sure the maximum amount of students can attend and enjoy this forum. It’s a popular event with a lovely spirit, with the audience often asking the filmmaker questions about his or her work.

The other opportunity to have your work screened at ASIFA-East comes in the form of an official competition where there is a submission fee (monies collected directly pay for the festival venue, event insurance, and, of course, the food, wine, beer, etc., for the reception). The festival generally represents the local Eastern United States animation area (mainly the tri-state area, dominated by entries from NYC simply because the city is the area's main animation hub), but we have had regular submissions from Vermont to Florida, and some additional entries from the West Coast and Canada. Our entry form is available to the public for five weeks each year (end of January through February) as a downloadable pdf, and is sent to members in hard-copy form.

When I arrived on the ASIFA-East scene in 1995, we were getting about 80 entries a year, but these days it averages between 120-140 (it was 140 this year). Back then we viewed films in two to three evenings of screenings, but now we routinely need four. Entered films are viewed by an open jury made up of members, non-members, and board members, along with some of the filmmakers featured each night. Voting is by members only, anonymous, and in public. The voter’s names don’t appear on the ballots, and at the end everything is collected and placed in a sealed envelope and given to an independent accountant who has not seen the films, and who is not a member of ASIFA-East.

The mathematical data gets tabulated and the numbers directly pick the winners. Along with the mathematical tally, another way to ensure fairness is that the festival co-chairs (Nancy Keegan Lennert and Linda Simensky) don’t have a pony in the race, don't attend the jury screenings, and are objective in reviewing the accountant’s results. None of that is to say that it’s a perfect process, but the truth is no two people would ever (or should ever) agree on something as subjective as judging a film. You can quantify a widget and measure it in an analytical process by testing its durability and so on, but animated films are art and its natural that we should disagree on our ballots and even at the festival in terms of what made it to the screen and what did not. It's a lot like how we second guess the Oscars the next morning.

Certainly there are still many areas open for improvement, such as how to ensure an even fairer and more comfortable jury process, how many awards should be given in each category, and so on. After every festival the board gets together and tallies the feedback we’ve received along with our own opinions on how it went and we brainstorm how we can do it better next year. You can count on us giving this a top to bottom examination before the year’s end (our current season ends in June), and we look forward to sharing the plan of improvements for next year’s festival with you all.

Does ASIFA-East do enough to encourage studios and individuals to enter films so that we may have a broad enough body of entries from which to judge? We will be sure to address this, as well, in our festival post-mortem discussion. When I joined the executive board in 1995, there was no ASIFA-East website by which to spread information. We could only rely on mail. Now we spread information (including the delivery of our festival entry form) by snail mail, e-mail blasts, a Facebook group, a twitter feed, and through our website.

It would be awesome to have the broadest representation possible for our open jury to vote on and we’ll take the necessary steps to improve from where we are today. But ASIFA-East can’t hold the hand of every individual or studio that’s making animation in this region and personally make sure they enter the festival. But, you can help! Word-of-mouth within the community helps. Even better, it’s always appreciated when any blogs or websites (from small to prominent ones) help spread the word of our entry period. Since each blog or site attracts its own population of followers, it's a great way to help increase the scope of our outreach.

The festival is ASIFA-East's biggest undertaking every year and just pulling it off requires a lot of helpers and volunteers. Maybe it's a sign of our festival’s legacy or longevity that it is being discussed and critiqued as one might in a review of Annecy or Ottawa, but such a comparison is in reality incorrect. Those festivals are businesses (regardless of whether or not they make a profit) with paid employees, year-round offices, and all dependent on some amount of public arts funding to augment their survival. They are international festivals, which, by their mandate, seek work from all over the world, and because of their structure and set up, they are designed to process, review, program, and award films from a pool of thousands of entries. Part of how they can pull of such an undertaking is by having private juries, made up of 5 or so people, judging all the films.

In contrast, ASIFA-East’s festival is dependent upon a much more limited set of resources. While growing the amount of films entered in the festival would be great, we only have so many nights to view entrants, for instance. So, if we suddenly had three times the amount of films to watch, that would be a hell of a challenge to process and properly review in our open jury system. Would the member jury devote even more nights than the current four to watch everything? Or would this result in smaller jury pools spread thin over many nights of viewing? Not sure. But, since we’ve already expanded the amount of entries by almost double since 1995, perhaps we can expand even more…

Besides the planned improvements you can expect to see, clearly we can do a better job explaining who we are and what we’re doing, especially in regards to the festival. For instance, we can better explain how we adjust the festival in a substantial way almost every year. This year it was the introduction of separate categories for Music Video, Experimental, and Educational, along with creating one brand for this year’s festival so that the postcard, award certificate, and signal film (all by the talented Mr. Dan Meth) would create a more consistent experience. On top of this we relabeled the outdated “sponsored” category to the more accurate description “commissioned.”

A few years back our big innovation was to create title cards that played before each film so the audience could associate what films won what prizes, and to award one category at a time and then watch those films, making that the presentation method of the evening. The old way was to give out all the awards in one batch at the top of the festival and then screen the films sans any reminder of what they won. That system was a holdover from the early days of our festival where things were entered on film, making it very difficult or expensive to consider inserting award listings between the films. The ASIFA-East festival has always been a work-in-progress with changes small and large seeding in over the years.

On, the question, “Why do we do the festival?” We think this is an important tradition to carry on. Unlike Ottawa, Annecy, and other big animation festivals, the ASIFA-East festival is a festival put on BY the community and FOR the community. ASIFA-East is not the “other.” We, and our members, are one and the same. We may be board members of ASIFA-East donating our time and sweat to continue this event, but we are also part of the community, and because of that we too enter our films into competition and subject ourselves to the same jury process as any entrant. This is the natural occurrence of a festival that strives to reflect the community that it serves without any deliberate exclusion. The board members of ASIFA-East are representative of the same local industry of artists, craftspeople, and filmmakers, and win and lose at the festival just like anyone else. If you count our board of director’s numbers (not all of whom vote in every night of jury screenings) we are five to nine ballots out of a crowd of voters numbering 50 to 85 or more night-to-night.

Michael Sporn, longtime ASIFA-East board member had this to say on the question of the festival's purpose at his blog, explaining how the organization would be effected by disqualifying the board from being able to enter films: "If board members (all 9 of them) weren’t allowed to enter their films, there would be fewer board members since they do a lot of work for no pay, and if they weren’t allowed to enter the films in the festival there would be a reason for them not to volunteer to be on the board and do all the hard, necessary work. This is very different from the awards given out of ASIFA Hollywood. ASIFA East is a small group in New York and should be recognized as such."

Yet, as flawed as the current jury system may be (The ASIFA-East board still argues amongst ourselves about festival results from 10 years ago!), it's very gratifying that we can point to the fact that the last 3 Best in Show awards (see stills at the top of this post) were won by new-comers, most of whom are not even five years into their careers. But if that's inconclusive, how about this fact: the Best in Show winner from the 39th festival (see image below) was Arthur Metcalf's "Fantaisie in Bubblewrap," a student film!

Then there's 2003's Best in Show winner "Bathtime in Clerkenwell" made by a total outsider to the scene, Aleksey Budovskiy, who had been working as an electrician (see image below). I would suggest that this offers evidence that the system isn't ALL bad and that the member jury is open and ready to recognize great work no matter where it comes from or what name is attached to it. So, whatever improvements we'll try with the jury process, we probably shouldn't throw the baby out with the bath water.

This festival is first and foremost a celebration of the art of animation. There’s no admission cost to attend the festival, there’s plenty of free food and drink for everyone, and there’s no pressure to become a member. There’s no cash, college scholarships, Oscar-qualification, or new cars awarded as prizes. Winners get a paper certificate, the applause of the audience, and another screening of their film at the awards ceremony. Probably most importantly, the winners get a public nod by winning a prize awarded by their peers. Whatever the winners do with that boost is up to them. Maybe it encourages them to make more films. Maybe it helps attract new clients. Whatever the case, it’s nice to be in the show because it means an open jury process selected your film as having merit.

ASIFA-East makes ZERO profit from the show (or from anything we do, for that matter), and it’s in our bylaws that any venue that screens our festival (such as other ASIFA chapters like our friends ASIFA Atlanta and ASIFA San Francisco) must be free and open to the public. That’s very unlike most festivals, which charge the public for tickets and compile a winner’s reel to sell or rent to other venues. Hopefully this helps explain the difference between our chapter’s festival and the international festivals it has been incorrectly compared to.

In this post I tried to explain what ASIFA-East does year-to-year for its membership of about 300, while also offering many services to non members alike (some of whom choose to become members eventually to support what we’re doing). I won’t always be president, just as the current board of directors won’t always hold the positions they do right now. We’re just the current and faithful caretakers of an institution that was here before us and will be here after we’ve passed the baton to someone else. Meanwhile, each year we pick up a couple of new board members, which helps us continue to add fresh thinking to the mix.

I owe ASIFA-East a massive debt of personal gratitude. It has been for 10 years (and continues to be) an honor to serve as its president, if only to try to repay the organization that not only helped me get my first footing in the industry, but, more importantly, has given all of us the immeasurable resource of a community. It makes me happy to know I’m not the only one who has this relationship with ASIFA-East. And how lucky are we that besides ASIFA-East, we have other great groups such as Women In Children’s Media, Women in Animation, ACM SIGGRAPH, as well as newer institutions such as The Animation Block Party and Midsummer Night Toons III, and The Big Screen Project to bring us all together to celebrate each other and the art form we all hold so dear.

Two Weeks in Review

2011-04-30T10:20:00.000-07:00

Director David B. Levy, Director Frederick Marx, and moderator Christopher Ramsey, during the Q & A at the Florida Film Festival. "Grandpa" played before Frederick Marx's (Hoop Dreams) new feature "Journey From Zanskar." Photo by Lance Turner

It was an important two weeks, so, of course, I caught a cold. The current spree began a couple of weekends ago when I jetted down to the Florida Film Festival where my “Grandpa” short competed in the doc shorts festival. This festival has a great reputation among animators who have attended over the years. Upon arrival at the Festival’s main location at the lovely Enzian Theatre, I learned almost every volunteer was already familiar with my film, so it was easy to feel welcome and at home. To top it all off, a tropical mural designed by Bill Plympton (see detail below) adorns the walls surrounding the Enzian’s outdoor “Eden” bar.

I’m a late bloomer as an independent filmmaker, so my “Grandpa” short marks the first time I’m entering and getting into film festivals other than ones themed to animation or children’s’ content. The benefit of this is a chance to comingle with a different set of people from the larger communities of narrative and documentary live action shorts and features. That wouldn’t have been a desirable thing to me ten years ago, but now I really appreciate how important it is to have diverse contacts in different areas of film, TV, and the Web. When I was recently discussing this with Mike Rauch, he agreed, adding, “When you meet these live action filmmakers, you become their connection to animation, and they think of you for any of those needs that might come up.”

At the Florida Film Festival, my short opened for a feature (which Bill Plympton tells me is the more desirable way to be programmed, as opposed to being stuck into a batch of shorts). The feature was the new documentary by Frederick Marx (one of the director’s behind “Hoop Dreams,”) called “Journey From Zanskar,” which depicted a trek of Tibetan Monks trying to lead a group of poor village children on a dangerous and spiritual journey to begin new lives training to become Buddhist Monks and Nuns. I met Frederick just before our screening and he told me he was going to stay for my short and then come back for the Q and A. His film was magnificent, and opening for it was tremendous honor. I was blown away that Frederick loved my film too. In fact, we asked each other questions about our respective films during the Q and A!

At a festival, there seems to be great people to meet around every corner. Before I even got to the festival grounds, I shared a ride to the hotel with another filmmaker, Brooklyn-based Vaishali Sinha, who was there to represent her feature documentary (made with producer and co-director Rebecca Haimowitz), “Made in India.” In fact, when I signed in at the festival, the volunteers joked that every filmmaker attending the festival was either from L.A. or Brooklyn. How about that! I wasn’t able to attend Vaishali’s screening, but Debbie (who had flown down to join me at the fest mid-way) and I were so happy when she won the award for Best feature doc at the fest, something that qualifies her and Rebecca for a possible Academy Award nomination! Her film will be screening in the Big Apple at the NY Indian Film Festival, so I have another chance to check it out soon. Another feature doc at the fest was by Lawrence Johnson, a very affable fellow from Portland Oregon, whose film “Stuff,” won a special jury prize at the Festival. He gave me a DVD screener, which I can't wait to check out.

As soon as I got back to NY, my animation team started on the Adult Swim series I’m directing for Boston’s Clambake Animation. Incidentally, I found that the Adult Swim credit had a lot of cache in the film world. Most of the filmmakers I met were aware of that “brand,” and the feeling seemed to be one of respect, knowing that Adult Swim can stand for offbeat animated projects for a cult audience. Animation producer Claire Curley (The Electric Company) once told me, “The best time to promote yourself is when you’re already under contract.” This means that when you have projects going on it’s all the more important to be making the rounds of self-promotion. This way you have the opportunity to capitalize on what you’re doing, by using your current projects to grow your next opportunities.

A still from "Grandpa Looked Like William Powell"

The next week I was promoting “Grandpa” at another festival, this time at Tribeca (right in my home town), where I was competing again in the doc shorts category. Just getting into festivals makes your self-promotion plans easier. Agents, distributors, and other festivals scour the listings of the Tribeca festival (and other festivals). This can lead to invitations to enter other fests (sans fees), as well as offers of representation and distribution, all of which happened to me during my two weeks at the Tribeca Festival. What any of that will amount to, I have no idea. But, it’s nice to have these new opportunities. Festivals are not the be and end all to determine what is good or worthy, but there’s no denying the boost they offer to participating filmmakers.

During the Q and A following the premiere of "Open 24 Hours" a program of 8 shorts at the Tribeca Film Festival. From left to right: Me, Joe DeRosa, Phil Botti, and Vinz Feller.

As an animator entering the Florida Film Festival, Tribeca, Atlanta Film Festival, or The Athens International Film Festival, it was neat to realize that I was a complete nobody in their eyes. I’d never even entered a film in these fests before, so when they saw some merit in “Grandpa” it was not based on how the film compared to my usual work or personal standards. The film had to make it or sink on its own.

Between Tribeca’s nightly parties, and five screenings of my film, there was ample opportunity to meet and connect with many other filmmakers, writers, actors, and producers. Tribeca programmed my film to be the only animated short (or doc) playing with a selection of 7 live action narrative shorts. The first five films were heavy dramatic pieces full of family tension and angst. One was “Storm up the Sky” by Jon Kauffman, who had previously worked as Darren Aronofsky’s assistant on “Black Swan.” Two other favorites of mine were comedic films “Loose Change” by Phil Botti (who’s day job is working at Atlantic Records), and “Cheat” by comedian Joe DeRosa. Through the latter film I got to meet several comics whom appreciated the humor in my film.

Sharon Badal, head programmer of the Tribeca shorts told me that “Grandpa” was used as a transitional film in the program to bridge from drama to comedy. Between Sharon, and Shorts Programmer Ben Thompson, we were in good hands. At one point during a Q and A helmed by Ben Thompson, an audience member asked us a very general question about distribution outlets. Ben briefly and politely answered the question before asking if there were any questions about the actual films screened. All of us filmmakers standing there very much appreciated his savvy handling of the situation.

During the awards party Debbie and I happened to meet Ryan Silbert, who had produced this year’s Oscar winning live action short “God of Love.” I really dug that short when I saw it at the short list Oscar voting, and I was thrilled when it won the Oscar because, so often, comedies don’t get the recognition they deserve. Ryan has capitalized on the Academy Award by starting a production company called Toy Closet Films, with a business partner. Similarly, Jon Kauffman is readying a feature script to ride the momentum of “Black Swan” and his Tribeca short. It was infectious being around all these amazing people for two weeks. I even managed to meet an animator or two, in Canadians Felix Dufour-Laperriere (his film was the experimental “Strips”), and Jordan Canning (“Not Over Easy,” which was part of the fest’s animation shorts program). Felix told me his current job is making an animated film at the legendary Canadian Film Board. I jokingly asked him if Paul Driessen was there, and he replied, “Yes, I say hello to him every morning!”

Smack in the middle of all this Tribeca business, I had to miss one of my screening nights to attend the launch of the book I co-authored with Bill Plympton at NY’s Society of Illustrators. At the “standing room only” event, Bill asked me to say a few words about our collaboration and, afterwards, join him at the table to co-sign the books. Actor Matthew Modine was in attendance too (he’s provided voices on two of Bill’s recent short films), and he revealed that he almost became an animator because of an obsession he had with the Fleischer Popeye’s as a kid. Among the other attendees were famous New Yorker cartoonists’ Sam Gross and Mort Gerberg.

If I'm beaming, its because I'm standing next to two of my biggest heroes in the whole world: Bill Plympton and Howard Beckerman.

This was the kind of two weeks it has been: my usual animation world opening up to include new experiences with players in the world of live action film, illustration, cartooning, and beyond. But, on Sunday Night May 1st, it became all about animation again with the ASIFA-East Animation Festival! During all this hustle I thankfully found some time to beat back my cold, but, unfortunately, before I could, I passed it along to Debbie. But, thankfully the common cold was the only damper on two weeks of fun, inspiration, and free drinks.

I never thought I’d write a book with Bill Plympton, make a short that got into Tribeca, or have a gig directing a series for Adult Swim. But, that’s what’s interesting about a career. Who knows where anything leads? One thing is certain: the steps we take today, however small and spread out, are taking us somewhere... Not knowing the exact where and when is half the fun!

The Juggling Match

2011-04-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

As part of my School of Visual Arts Animation Career Strategies class, which I teach to graduating seniors each year, I ask them to bring in two questions each week based on the assigned readings. The texts cover just about every aspect of building and maintaining a healthy career in this industry, and the questions they inspire help to shape our discussion in class. One interesting thing that has come up time and again is fear or stress at the idea of having to do more than one thing at a time. In other words: while you’re going on interviews and looking for work, you should also be creating new samples (maybe specialized samples tailored to a project you’d like to work on), and networking by attending animation events/keeping in touch with your peeps online.

When I mentioned that it might be a good idea to volunteer at groups such as ASIFA, WIA, WICM, Animation Block Party, etc., a few students expressed concerns with fitting that into their schedule. Volunteering (in the context of animation organizations) is not a full time commitment, but an hour or two here and there, maybe spread over a month. I have to admit that I’m a little baffled by these fears, because my assumption is that this current generation would be experts at multi-tasking. Aren’t they the ones that are watching TV while texting, tweeting, and checking their e-mail? Maybe this modern-age skill for multi-tasking usually only serves frivolous purposes? I don’t want to believe that. But, there sure seems to be a gap in understanding that you need to juggle to earn and keep your place in this biz.

Time is among the most precious things we have, at any age. But, when you begin a career in animation, how you spend that time is especially critical. In this post I’m suggesting that its absolutely essential to be juggling things like the job hunt with networking, volunteerism, making new samples, etc., and for many newbies that may also mean adding working as interns for free or little money. Some will advise you to NEVER work for free under any circumstance. Others, such as successful newcomer Jake Armstrong, advises that its okay to work for free upon graduation, but insists you must set a definite limit at two days a week. That’s how he began (in an internship at Augenblick), and in only two years since, he’s become one of today’s most sought after freelancers (on both coasts!).

But, be careful in your internships. I just heard about a recent grad working at a studio where most every employee is an unpaid intern (all of them graduates), working for free, five days a week. She confessed that she hadn’t made it to ASIFA-East events in a long time because she just can’t get away. Now, as much as it’s true that no experience is wasted, I’d say this is still a very unfair situation. Not only is five days a week too much to ask of an intern, these free workers have been "working" this way for five months! Not only does this smack as illegal to me, it also robs the intern of the time he/she needs to use to find a REAL job, network/volunteer at events, and create new samples.

I don’t know that this kind of thing happens in other industries. I can’t imagine an oil rig opening up and asking oil workers to intern for free on the rig for five months/five days a week. Can you? But, animation artists line up for this shit. It boggles the mind. Yes, you have to pay your dues––we all did. But, paying your dues doesn’t have to involve being ripped off and abused. If you’re going to build a career of your own invention, you can’t do that without looking out for your basic needs and rights. You can’t juggle if your hands are bound.

If you can learn from your mistakes...

2011-04-18T05:26:00.000-07:00

The rough design I mocked up (hijacking Bill Plympton's Guard Dog) for my last book cover. The story below could have been included in that book, but instead I'm sharing it here...

Today is an extra fun day for me because it’s my animation team’s start on a new animated series I’m directing for Boston’s Clambake Animation. The beginning of a project is an exciting time full of invention, especially when you get a chance to animate a show’s first season as we are doing. We have a killer mix of great artists working in-house at Clambake under the supervision of Exec Producer Carl Adams, Creative Director Andre Lyman, Producer Julia King, and Business partner Carrie Snyder, and a wrecking crew of six NY-area animators, that Carl has affectionately dubbed “Clambake Brooklyn.” It’s way too early to reveal any details about our series, so they can’t be shared in this post. But, I’m happy to say that it’s a great project that was written and created by top TV writers who have worked in both live action and animated hits.

Clambake and I learned so much together on our past projects, as we felt our way to making the most of our on-site/off-site hybrid productions. With the tight schedules and budgets we are used to working with, there’s simply no cushion that would afford you to make the same mistake twice anyhow. With TV animation production, you can really sense that you’re adding your stage of production to a constantly moving assembly line. This makes you have to learn to take advantage of every minute of the day and intimately know the day-to-day progress of your team, while giving them everything they need to be successful. That sounds like a no-brainer, but it certainly wasn’t the case on the first series I directed for.

At the start of my directing career I was on a hit series with a fat budget and a longish production span. But, despite those advantages, we somehow never quite took full advantage of it. I know that first hand because in this story below I was part of the problem.

One of my lead animators finished her scenes on our latest episode a whole week and a half early. It was a combination of her fine effort combined with her being assigned to a section of the episode that had few to no production hiccups or educational challenges. When I saw this talented animator was freed up I couldn’t believe my luck! Wow! Now we’d have the rare chance of having a lead animator be able to start the next episode early. In my fantasy I imagined the best pair of episodes that my team ever delivered!

But, as you can probably already guess, it didn’t turn out that way. Animators on our series would show their director work on a daily basis: during casual (and sometimes spontaneous) desk visits, or officially in a team approval viewing two mornings a week. To show work in the latter method, animators would call their team’s production assistant the night before to reserve their place the next day. The following morning the PA would walk around a hard drive (we had no networked server or ftp site back then) so animators could copy their work to a central place.

On the second day of the lead animators early start I asked her how things were going. She assured me all was fine and things were coming along. By the third day I saw she wasn’t showing me any work, either casually or officially, and at the end of that day I popped by again to ask how things were going. Again she assured me things were fine even though she wasn’t showing me anything. On the fourth day I didn’t pop by at all, but the next day during a department wide meeting I told my whole team that if anyone hadn’t shown work this week they should sign up for Monday morning approvals.

I hoped that my message would be heard, but apparently, it was not. When Monday came, she didn’t show again, and when I stopped by the next day to ask her again how it was going she again made some excuse and I backed away. This was all very confusing to me because this animator had always had a good work ethic and was a good communicator. Whatever was going on, I realized it had gotten out of hand, so I forced a confrontation the next day by asking the PA to show up at her desk with a drive to make her show work in approvals. I’m not saying this was the best or most natural way to solve this problem––it was just what I tried from my low level of experience as a director.

I should point out that during the span of days that this problem unfolded I wasn’t just waiting around my office hoping to see her work. I was busy working on 8 episodes at a time, 6 in various stages of pre-production, with 2 episodes in current production. Every day there were fires to put out, and my time was spread very thin.

Back in the story, when the PA showed up at her desk, the animator was confused and insisted there must be a mistake, so the PA came to me and asked what I wanted to do. I sent the PA back the animator, but instead of the animator copying work to the drive, she came into my office to yell at me. She was so mad that she was shaking. “Why are you on my back?” she shouted. I was so frustrated by this point that I shouted back, “Why aren’t you showing your work? You don’t work by yourself on this show. Nobody does. You’re on a team! And, part of the process is that you have to show your work to your director!” It was a very bad moment and we were both shaken up by it. Afterwards she and I each had a chance to talk to separately talk to our supervisor about it, and he supported me by saying that she had been wrong to withhold her work.

But, that felt like a very empty victory to me, suddenly, because I finally asked myself, “What will tomorrow be like?” We still had to work together. In my botched handling of the whole affair I hadn’t once thought of that. The other thing I finally realized (far too late) is how much of a partner I had been in this mess. It was my job to set the tone and provide a safe and effective workplace that would prevent any animator from getting into this situation. Instead, I’d help cause this! I gave this animator enough rope to hang herself with, so to speak, while at the same time escalating my frustration, which put all the blame on her.

Why did the animator do what she did? While that’s not the point of all this, I speculate that she felt “entitled” after finishing the previous cycle of episodes early and decided to have a slow start on the new work as a victory lap, of sorts. And, maybe that plan got away from her and before long, she was phoning it in for well over a week.

As part of the resolution of the conflict, she showed me what she had accomplished over those days and it was plain to see that this animator had only worked a day or so out of all that time. She was embarrassed, and immediately pledged to stay late and work weekends to make up for the lost time, which she did.

That was the end of the story for a long time, but years later when I was freelancing for the company she was working at; I bumped into her on the sidewalk outside their building. We chatted for a few moments before I confessed how sorry I was for this incident. “I made a lot of mistakes working with you, and I’m glad to have this opportunity to tell you how I feel.” I don’t think she was expecting me to talk about that, so our conversation ended awkwardly and abruptly. But, I was still glad and relieved to have a chance to admit my error and express my regrets.

Mistakes and missteps are going to happen in any career in animation. When it’s the director making them, the repercussions and potential damage become far worse. But, if you can learn from your mistakes and apply that knowledge forward, then no experience (no matter how negative it is) is without a positive side.

Make Mine MoCCA

2011-04-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

Bill Plympton and I hawking our wares at MoCCA Fest 2011.

Last week my post was about the easiest/simplest form of networking, which is the basic “check-in” e-mail, keeping your contacts up to date on your current projects and availability. And, while there’s no doubt how effective this can be, it’s best to first establish an in-person relationship, and since you’ll want to network with a larger community of people than whom you happen to already be working with, nothing beats attending animation or related events to started.

This past weekend I participated in an amazing event that brought together many amazing talents from the comics, cartooning, and animation communities: The annual MoCCA Fest 2011. My half table, which I used to sell my books, was smack dab between a writer/producer from the USA Network named Jonathan Baylis and Bill Plympton. Bill and I were thrilled that we could be neighbors because our section made for a strong animation row with nicely overlapping products. He sold two cases of our new book from Rizzoli press, and I sold my Directing Animation book, which featured his Guard Dog character on the cover. Every time we made a sale, we’d pass a book to the other to get a second signature on it. It was a lot of fun! And, it was an amazing sight to have a front row seat to watch Bill interact with his fans, scribble free sketches, sometimes while he ate an orange or crunched some potato chips. Hey, a fella’s gotta keep his strength up.

Jonathan Baylis, whom I hadn't previously met, was a great guy. And, it turned out we had a lot of mutual friends in the business. He was there selling a series of comics he wrote and self-published called “So Buttons,” all of which were based on his life experiences. I bought his latest issue for a very reasonable $5 and read it on the way home from the first day. It was full of witty and sharp storytelling. Jonathan was also an old pro at this comic convention stuff. I learned a lot by watching him interact with his customers.

The festival attendees were an eclectic mix, as young as high school students, as old as elderly. There were fans, newbies, and established artists. In the latter category were animation friends Rob Kohr, Tom Eaton, Celia Bullwinkel, Amid Amidi, Katie Cropper, Susan Godfrey, Andrew Kaiko, Andy London, Erin Finnegan, Felipe Galindo, Alisa Haris, Dan and Gabe Pinto, Mo Willems, Robert Leighton, Maciek Albrecht, Dan Meth, Will Krause, Rob Schaad, Lindsay Woods, Jake Armstrong, Alisa Stern, Jaime Ekkens, Patricia Burgess, Devin Clark, Charles Kenny, Sandrine Flament, Sam Marlow, Ernest Kim, Audrey Skalkowski, Peter Ahern, Linda Beck, Jen Oxley, Heather Tilert, Melinda LaRose, Signe Baumane, Francisco Gutierrez, Adrian Urquidez, Dayna Gonzalez, Pedro Delgado, Erica Perez, Mina Sanwald, and my best friend in the whole universe, my wife Debbie.

As for creating a pre-event buzz, I think the award goes to my former student, Meredith Gran, and her pals Lisa Hanawalt, Kate Beaton, Sarah Glidden, Domitille Collardey, and Julia Wertz, who scored a two-page spread in the April 11, 2001 New Yorker Magazine!

On the cartoonist side, I got to reconnect with legendary New Yorker cartoonist Sam Gross, whom I met a while back when I was pitching gag cartoons to the magazine every Tuesday. Sam was very encouraging, and advised me to try again and keep building up my cartoon gag arsenal, which he reminded could be circulated to other magazines outside of The New Yorker.
Above, a Sam Gross cartoon.

I also saw Robert Mankoff, The New Yorker’s cartoon editor, when he briefly stopped by Bill’s table before he had to dash off to do a panel. But, my favorite New Yorker cartoonist encounter was when Paul Noth stopped by my table and told me he owned my Animation Development book, and that it helped him navigate through the development process when he created a cartoon for use on the Conan O’Brien Show.

While chatting with Paul Noth it took me some time to realize that he was the same Paul Noth who’s cartoons graced so many of The New Yorker issues that arrive in our mailbox each week. He also encouraged me to try my luck again at the magazine again. Not only that, he bought a copy of my new book!
Above, a Paul Noth cartoon.

There were a lot of fun students to meet, and I was happy to learn that many of them were already familiar with my books, or at least one of them. One student came by and told me that he had two of my books on a wait list at his local library, and this prompted another student standing at Bill’s table to open his messenger bag and whip out my Directing Animation book, complete with its library binding and Dewey Decimal number from his library!

Through Bill’s connections I met some of the students from his short-lived Bill Plympton Animation School, as well as Jessica Fuller, an editor from Rizzoli Press, as well as a bunch of fine folks from The Society of Illustrators, including the organization’s affable president Dennis Dittrich.

I left the weekend with thick stack of business cards representing brand new connections, some of which bridged the worlds of cartooning and comics. You can’t meet such folks staying home. Relationships mean so much in a people-business such as animation, so while I’m glad my table made a profit, the real value of the two days live in that stack of business cards and the new connections, relationships, and potential friendships they represent. Big thanks to the entire MoCCA family, their army of helpful volunteers, and their wonderful chairman Ellen S. Abramowitz! They are already accepting applications for table space next year. Hint. Hint.

Checkin' In: One of the Secrets to Getting Work in Animation

2011-04-02T08:29:00.000-07:00

Boston's Clambake Animation, my employer on a new project. Photo by Joel Murphy.

So many in this industry needlessly stress themselves out at the very idea of networking, but the good news is that networking, even in its most simple and easy form, the occasional e-mail or online "check-in," can work wonders in any career.

A few years ago a former student from my SVA career class e-mailed me, asking if I knew of any openings anywhere. Since she had graduated, she’d attended a handful of ASIFA-East events and sent me the occasional update/hello e-mail. Even though she was an animator who’d specialized in stop-motion, she made it a point to tell me that she would also consider jobs as a production assistant on the office side of things. By chance of fate, the next week, a pal from Nick Jr asked if I knew anyone that could work in production on one of their series. So, I thought of this animator and connected her to my contact. She got the job, a position she’d keep for the next two and half years until the series’ end.

Three months ago a friend of mine, whom I’ve never worked with, and another alumni of my SVA career class, wrote me a message on Facebook, explaining that he was without work and worried about it. As a long admirer of his skills, I began to think of something we could work on together. Then it hit me. I had a pitch I was preparing for KidScreen and I needed some help inking and coloring the show art. So, I used this as an excuse to employ this artist on a little assignment, which doubled as a low-risk way to try out our work-relationship. I think it’s important to test-run potential new hires with little assignments before booking them long term. As a virtual studio, I most often work with different combinations of the same dozen artists, but I stay on the look out to add the occasional new member to the team––it’s essential to do so because you can’t always book the same crew since they are constantly drifting in and out of availability.

I’m happy to say that this artist did an amazing job! His work was excellent, his communication skills and enthusiasm top notch, and he hit the deadlines. Last week I started a new gig, directing another animated project for my friends at the Boston-based Clambake Animation, and snapped up this artist as part of my team.

Another member of my newly assembled team is an animator that I directed back on Blue’s Clues, but that recently left NY to move back to his hometown. When he moved he reached out to all his contacts to let everyone know that he was interested in freelance he could do from off-site. As much as he’s one of my favorite animator’s to work with, I wouldn’t have known he was available for this type of work if he hadn’t stayed in touch and told me.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago an animator that I’d directed on Pinky Dinky Doo wrote me (via LinkedIn) that he’d just moved back to NY after a couple of years working in L.A. And, it turns out his experience there was on a very compatible series to the work I was now directing for Clambake. Although he couldn’t have known it, the final position on my team had just opened up and I was able to offer it to him.

While all these stories are specific to my experiences and interactions, the larger point is how staying in touch can lead to opportunity for anyone. As an employer it makes it easier for me to know who's out there if my contacts stay in touch, and as someone looking for work, when I stay in touch with my former employers it helps remind them that I'm out there. During the three years since I’d last worked with Clambake Animation, we stayed in touch through e-mails, occasional lunches, etc––keeping each other up-to-date. Last week I went to Boston to work on-site for a couple of days, and it felt as if we just picked up right after our last conversation. It was so natural, in large part because we’d stayed connected between work opportunities.

All of us working in animation have these “benefits of networking and staying in touch” stories. The relationships and friendships we make working in this industry not only help us get jobs, but are also a large part of why we have so much fun doing what we do. Keeping in touch is a natural and enjoyable thing, not an icky thing, nor should it be confused with "ass-kissing" as some do. The best networking is authentic and sincere and can be as easy as simply keeping in touch with your contacts. At the very least, what have you got to lose by giving it a try?

Do-Over

2011-03-26T15:18:00.000-07:00

In this still from my latest short, my Aunt, Mom, and Uncle morn the passing of their father.

Something I really appreciate about getting older (besides losing my hair) is the awareness that the passage of time gives us all the opportunity to make our own "do-overs."

The subject of my "do-over" is my indie career as a filmmaker. While I’ve been making films since I’m 12 years old, up until this past year, I've never made the films I imagined I could make. Thankfully my livelihood didn’t depend upon them being successful, and even when they weren’t, they still contributed to my career path as a professional writer/director. But, the films themselves were nothing to brag about, and maybe that’s why I never really entered many festivals or worked very hard at promotion. Deep down I knew these weren’t award winners. At best they were my attempts to show various producers and executives that I wanted to be seen as a potential TV cartoon creator. That goal was paramount in my mind, far dwarfing any plans to tell my own stories, my way. It’s the difference between trying to be a “me too,” versus an “I am," and I sadly chose the former for many years.

I started turning around my botched indie career four years ago with the cheery and short “Good Morning” cartoon, which became my breakthrough film in that it was accepted into the Hiroshima International Animation Festival (and 15 other festivals), scored a distribution deal, and plays biweekly on Nick JR. But, the breakthrough element of "Good Morning," was not the film's decent success in the market. It was simply the fact that I had finally made something for me, which is very different than making something for the industry.

My new short “Grandpa Looked Like William Powell,” uses the simple graphic ideas in “Good Morning” (no background art, color, nor other fancy frills, and sports music by Bob Charde) but, this time, to create a personal documentary narrative. I’ve gone so far away from my old goal of making indie works that could be seen as commercial samples. For example, I recently showed “Grandpa” to a professional Hollywood animation veteran (someone who’s worked on major TV animation productions since the early 90s), and he remarked, “Oh, did you make this for your family?” Looking through his “industry goggles” he couldn’t understand this type of film. It doesn’t look like a TV series, typical animated feature, or anything he’d be familiar with in his world. That moment was an odd and sweet victory for me. I’d made something that could not be mistaken as mainstream––a do-over for my indie career.

I finished my new short in late October and have entered over 50 festivals already, which is more than my previous six films put together. Serious indie filmmakers such as Signe Baumane enter up to 120 festivals per film and it is my goal to do just that. While the Hollywood animation vet found my film impossible to appreciate, that wasn’t a problem for this year’s Tribeca Film Festival jury, and I’m happy to announce that my film will be competing in the festival’s documentary shorts category.
A handful of other festival invitations are too early to announce here, but I’m excited to report that three of them are Oscar-qualifying festivals, so if I win in my categories (either animation or doc shorts), I would be eligible for an Academy Award nomination. I know that’s a long shot, but the point is that I’m trying to promote this film as much as possible and finally taking my indie career seriously. I’m 37 years old now, the same age that Bill Plympton was when he made his first animated short, launching him into the career “do-over” from illustrator to animator. Maybe 37 is the magic age for do-overs? Me, and the hairs left on my head, intend to find out!

The Trouble with Your Own Studio as Your First Job

2011-03-18T12:58:00.001-07:00

Aaron Augenblick shares an anecdote about running his own studio at a panel on Careers in Animation thrown by the Mayor's Office of Film, Theatre, and Broadcasting. R to L: Arron Augenblick, Catherine Branscome, me, Debra Solomon, Norma Toroya.

With every new crop of students I meet each year, there are always a handful that want to open their own studios. I think that’s a great goal, but the trouble is that most of these students want to go into business right upon graduation. That’s a very problematic plan. Bill Plympton often advises that any one with such ambitions should wait 7 years and instead work their way up in the studio system, learn programs, stockpile ideas for films/projects, make contacts, and save money.

Plympton knows what he's talking about, but I’d like to add some additional reasons why it might be a good idea to put your studio dreams on hold, if only for a while:

1-Examine why you want your own studio.
When someone plans to begin a career with their own studio business it might be because he/she is fearful about getting a job, or being able to function within a studio environment under someone else’s direction. You’d be unusual if you weren’t a little worried about all that. At the start of a career everything is unknown, so it’s easy to feel insecure about whether you can make it in a field as difficult to break into as animation. But, others have done it. You can draw upon countless examples of newcomers that enter the animation field each year. I’d be willing to bet most of them were nervous about the job hunt and about succeeding on the job once they scored one.

It could be that you want your own studio right out of the gate because you want to avoid competing with other new hires and avoid the risk of failure. The trouble is that if building a studio is the answer, you’re just trading one risk for an even greater one. Why would it be easier to be the person who has to do the job AND get the account? The freedom to be your own boss is the part that hooks students into this fantasy, but to operate a successful studio is actually a far more difficult proposition than you might think.

2-Why would a client give you work?
Savvy students put some attention towards networking and relationship building while still in school, so some might have ready connections that could come in handy when beginning a studio right upon graduation. Likely, recent students would know some fellow students they would want to hire, for example. Yet, the trouble is, they won’t have tested the working relationship yet. It’s one thing to collaborate in art school, and quite another to work together in the real world as professionals.

The bigger problem is why would a client trust a brand new studio with no work or industry experience? Having no track record of producing professional level animation on a budget, to a client’s expectation, and to a deadline, makes such a studio a risky proposition. Besides, there's other choices in town. Why wouldn’t a client bring their job to other studios that are proven producers? And, it's not a matter of who will do the job cheapest, because many studios work at different prices, and no client will see a untested studio as a bargain if they think there’s any risk of the job not being done properly. And, if a client doesn’t care about that, what kind of client would they be anyway?

3-What it takes to make it work:
Aaron Augenblick started out working at MTV Animation for a couple of years before he embarked on his own studio business. Even with his considerable talents, his company struggled in its first five years, and during that time, one could assume that Aaron could have found far more lucrative employment working for someone else. But, he was as determined as he was skilled and hung in there. Some five years into his company it really starting to take off, as his studio began tackling series orders such as Wonder Showzen, Superjail, and Ugly Americans. Clearly, Aaron had what it takes to tough it out, and he proved it with his commitment, sweat, and tenacity during those early years. But, not all studio end in success stories like Augenblick.

After 13 years working for other studios and individuals, I created a virtual animation studio in 2007. I don’t have a company reel (or even a personal reel), a website (it’s still under construction), an agent or a rep, nor stationary or a company logo. Despite the fact that I'm advising not creating a studio at the start of a career, once you are properly ready to dive in there's no one way to do business. There's a lot of freedom to put your spin on it. So, what works for my personality is to market myself through networking at events as well as online through emails/facebook/linked-in, through making films, writing books, and creating pitches. What keeps my virtual studio humming is relationship building, repeat business, and the ability to expand and contract as needed, as well as the ability to work in different models of workflow.

If what is required to get business (no matter how conventional or unconventional your method) sounds like a lot of work, it’s because it is. It would be far simpler if I just got a job working for someone else and showed up each day and waited to be told what to do. But, despite how much more work it is for me to set my life up this way, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the freedom of choosing which projects to take on and then surrounding myself with awesome, fun, and talented co-workers. But, I can’t even imagine how poorly my business would have gone if I’d have started it right upon graduation. I would have had no production experience, no connections to the work stream, no practice dealing with clients, no business skills, and no clue how to staff/schedule/manage a project.

At age 21, right after graduation, I didn't even know who I was yet. I still lived with my parents, had never travelled outside the U.S., and had no idea what it would be like to live in the real world with the responsibility of paying my own bills. That sounds like the worst qualifications for a studio owner to me. I couldn’t have been less ready for that, and upon working in the industry I saw just how much work it was to run your own business.

From my perspective, the Plympton advice is sound. You’ll have a far greater chance of success with your studio plans if you pave the road ahead of you, however many years that takes.

Diary of a "Lost" Film

2011-03-09T09:57:00.000-08:00

Making an animated film used to be so much more physical in the days of film. There was lots of lugging heavy artwork to camera, for instance. Back then, you felt the weight of production in your hands. One morning, in 1997, before going to work at Blue's Clues, I stood at the corner of 50th and Broadway with two heavy FedEx boxes filled with "Snow Business" cels (from my first indie film) for the camera man to shoot, and crossing the street right in front of me was Harrison Ford. Being the only one on the corner who recognized him, I winked. He winked back. Now, thanks to the digital age, we make films without leaving our living rooms, unfortunately greatly reducing the chance of bumping into Han Solo.

Since I’ve only had a tablet and Cintiq since 2007 and 2009 respectively, I wasn’t able to employ the full joys of digital filmmaking till that time. Just before this period, in 2006, I embarked on a film that I never finished. This unfinished film, which I called “Thrown” was autobiographical in that it was loosely based on me and my terrible aim. I can stand right next to the garbage and throw away some trash and miss. It’s not always the case, but it’s true enough of the time and it’s something I’ve noticed about myself over the years.

Around this time, Debbie and I were watching a ton of Buster Keaton films, which gave me the idea to try “Thrown” as a type of silent movie complete with irises in and out, and title cards. I started to get excited about the project and loosely outlined the film’s structure, doing thumbnail sketches in place of slick storyboards. I drew the animation on paper with a sharpie. I didn’t plan on cleaning up the drawings or even coloring them in. After each scene I scanned all the artwork and assembled it in After Effects.

Looking back, I can see that I felt a disconnect while working on this film, even though I was jazzed by how the animation was coming out. Nowadays, when drawing a film on a Cintiq, I can instantly view its progress as I’m drawing it, or immediately after. This makes me feel like I'm always inside the film––really living in it. The digital process is far more instant and direct and that helps keep me engaged to see a project through.

Ultimately I found myself not really committed to keep going. I wasn’t feeling it anymore, and slowly let the project die. I can’t really say why for certain. I know I wasn't really enjoying the process, and perhaps the idea for the film was too flimsy in the first place. Although personal in nature, it didn't give me the deep desire an indie needs to carry oneself through the production.
Click here to see a cobbled together cut of some scenes from the film, and note that the story is far from complete.
Click here to see a isolated test from an early scene in the film.
Click here to see a bit of the unfinished end sequence of the film.

I think every artist or filmmaker leaves behind these little detour projects that are destined to not go anywhere. But, even though this film didn’t get finished, it did help to steer me in the direction I’m in today. It taught me the joys of a looser approach, the value of having autobiographical content, and (most importantly) that even six months is longer than I want to spend on an indie short. No work, even an unfinished work, is ever wasted.

Two Unconnected Animation Topics

2011-03-04T15:44:00.000-08:00

Why We Shouldn’t Undervalue CG Animation

This may shock anyone familiar with the simple graphics and animation styling of Nick Jr’s hit preschool show Blue’s Clues, but I can attest that for the 8 plus years I worked there, any of us animators on the series could spot each other’s scenes. How is that possible? It was possible because even with such limited graphics, movement, and so on, there was much of each individual animator’s personal approach that creeped in––despite the fact that we were delivering an animated product that was made to one cohesive vision and standard. The fact is, when you have people in the mix, their individual achievements will be present.

Traditional hand drawn theatrical animation is not the only instance where individual achievements may be present. The puppeteer creates a performance, as does a stop-motion animator, as does the CG animator working with rigged character in Maya––all without the act of drawing. All of these forms of creating a performance require a person projecting his/her self into something else to bring it to life. Having a pencil in hand is not THE prerequisite for an individual/human presence in an animated film.

What complicates this is that the CG age is still so new that we don’t yet know who our current day Milt Kahls are. But, it’s a mistake to think we won’t. Surely within Dreamworks or Pixar or on productions such as Disney's "Tangled" (pictured above) they already know who these current and future heroes are, and one day we (on the outside) will know them too. In the future, someone will write John Canemaker-style history books and articles explaining what each superstar CG animator did best, lauding individual achievements, and cataloguing scenes.

Why the Oscars Matter

It’s easy to believe the Academy Awards don’t mean anything because the very idea of the awards is absurd. After all, what is THE best anything? There's no perfect and fair way to measure something as subjective as art. The Oscars are not definitive. No one award from any festival decides for all tastes what is best in anything. But, the same issue is inherent in any animation or film festival. In fact, the Oscars are simply another festival, albeit the most famous one in the world. Today, indie animated films can be either shared openly online (in hopes of going viral), or entered to compete in the festival circuit. Some try to do both at once (PES is the best example of someone succeeding equally at both at the same time), although filmmakers should be careful to not disqualify themselves by putting their films online because many festivals do not permit that.

My own strategy would vary from film to film. If I have a film that is very short and light in subject or theme, I’d be more likely to share it online and not be thinking of festivals or qualifying for an Oscar nomination. But, if I have a serious film (and we each have our own idea of what “serious” means) I’d enter a ton of important festivals and keep one eye on qualifying for the Academy Awards. I've attended the Academy shorts voting a handful of times and have seen several friends on the list of 30 or so films that qualify for a potential Oscar nomination each year. I can't explain how encouraging that is. It somehow makes the impossible seem a touch more possible.

It's natural to want to achieve what others have achieved. Anyone who works in animation automatically follows in the legacy of their heroes, so the Oscar goal is just a more specific (and even harder to reach) dream within that context. But in practical terms, an Oscar nomination means a lot of visibility. I’d wager that in this age of social networking and online information an Oscar nomination is probably more useful than it’s ever been. A filmmaker can capitalize on such a thing and use it as a means to get more projects off the ground, in particular more ambitious projects such as features and such, which require many partners and funding.

The glamour and glitz of the Academy Awards aside, it's the world's highest profile film festival, and that's the part that ensures its continuing relevance to the indie filmmaker.