Teacher Comforts

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

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

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

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

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

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

"TIME!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Kids Films

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

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

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

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

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

Report from NYICFF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comparison: Job-to-job vrs. Career

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Anatomy of a Director

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

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

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

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

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

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

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