Animondays Interview: Rob Renzetti -part I

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

“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

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

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

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

(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

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