Comic created by Cassandra Calin of Cassandra Comics and courtesy of Twitter user Dr. Katharine Petrich.
Now
what?
I
feel that question looming over me as the end of my college career draws
closer. Soon, I will be exiting the collegiate world that I have known for the
past four years and enter the professional world with all the other ~real~
adults.
That
is the kind of thought that gives me terrible visions of a nine-thirty bedtime,
mortgages, and all the other boring baggage that comes with adulthood.
I
have to admit that this idea of the unknown is terrifying, however, I do have
one thing to guide me: passion.
Throughout
the semester, I have dreaded the questions of how my blog topic, my writing,
and my writing goals are related. Animation, writing, and my professional goals
seemed to be on opposite ends of the universe. Nothing similar existed between
them.
Then,
when I was forced to sit down and analyze them. Looking closely at the two
disciplines resulted in a list of similarities. Writing and animation both
require dedication, creativity, forward-thinking, and most importantly,
passion.
This
examination led to a classic floating-lightbulb-over-the-head moment. The one
element that had guided me in my choice of topic and continues to motivate me
in my writing is passion. And this passion is also something that is paving a
path into my future and will hopefully bring me to a job that I care
about.
There’s
the old adage “Do something you love, and you’ll never work a day in your
life.” This statement has been spewed from the mouths of key note speakers and
plastered over motivational posters to the point that most of us, myself
included, are numb to its meaning. Despite this, I feel the need to repeat it
here because, while it is an overused cliché, its meaning rings true.
I
desperately want to find a job that I am passionate about. In my own life,
passion for my major and for my hobbies has always generated drive or ambition
which leads to creation. And for me, creation usually ends in a sense of satisfaction
and dare I say, happiness.
Previously,
passion prompted me to try to major in animation before I realized that passion
cannot pay tuition fees. Later, it compelled me to study English. Now, I am
waiting for that same deep enthusiasm to take hold of me as I enter the job
market.
I do
not think that there is anyone who wants to wake up one morning and realize
that they absolutely hate their job. I am the same way. My hope is to pursue a
career that I am genuinely excited about and will remain excited about for
years to come. I have watched friends and family slog through a dreaded and
loathed job. The outcome is depressing, to say the least.
These
past observations are one reason that I am determined to fall head over heels in
love with a career, so much so that it becomes a purpose instead of a job. I
want this purpose to become a part of my life that contributes to my character
and impacts the world around me for the better. I do not want it to be
something that only contributes to my headaches.
I
have discovered a passion for animation and for writing, and I am eager to find
it in my future as well. Passion is a must have. If I cannot find a job that I
am passionate about, then I might as well take a nine-to-five in a dinky gray
cubicle and start stocking up on Tylenol.
Now when I think of my chosen blog topic, my writing, and my professional goals, I see passion tying them together. And now when I am faced with the question I posed at the beginning of this piece, I have an answer.
A sign from one of the student protests at The California Institute of the Arts. Image courtesy of Carlos Aguilar of Cartoon Brew.
The California
Institute of the Arts has deep roots within the world of animation.
Located
in Valencia, California, the university boasts impressive founders, including
Walt Disney himself. Famous alumni from its animation program include John
Lasseter, Brad Bird, Tim Burton, and Stephen Hillenburg.
Recently,
however, the school is becoming known less for its prestige and successful
graduates. Now they are being recognized for their high tuition costs, which as
of March 5, jumped to $50,850 for the 2019-2020 school year. With all the added
fees for attendance, students are facing a monstrous bill of over $78,000.
The estimated costs of attending CalArts for the 2019-2020 school year. Image courtesy of CalArt’s student Twitter page You Are Nothing Without Us.
CalArts,
as it is known by students, is located just an hour away from Los Angeles,
California, which is a major hub for the animation industry. The school serves
as springboard for many young animators who launch their careers in LA after graduation.
Some
are wondering if this will remain the same as students protest the 4.5% spike
in tuition. After CalArts’ Board of Directors voted to raise costs, some
students admitted that they were considering dropping out because they could
not afford the tuition any longer.
Andrew
Siedenburg, who studies photography at CalArts told the arts magazine Hyperallergic that he was one of many
students who were wondering if they would return in the fall.
Others,
like Echo Rose, who is majoring in music composition, have told the magazine
that some of their friends have already withdrawn from the school, their bank
accounts pushed past a breaking point.
Unfortunately,
this is not a new trend.
College
tuition across the United States is on the rise and has been since the eighties.
Forbes has pointed out that today’s average
bachelor’s degree is twice as expensive as the average degree in 1989. Today,
the average cost is $23,091, according to the National Center for Education
Statistics. But that number is expected to rise at 2.5% each year.
Frank
Pishkur, the department chair of the art department at Missouri Southern State
University, notes that this is not new information.
“It’s
hard for me to address what is specifically going on with private institutions,”
he says. “[But] much of the problems with public institutions has to do with a
lack of statewide financial support. This has been an ongoing issue now for at
least 50 years.”
Unfortunately,
it seems that this problem will continue and CalArts is no exception. Its
official website’s tuition and fees page warns families to expect a 4-5%
increase for next year. This means tuition alone will cost between $71,190 and
$76,275 for the 2020-2021 academic year.
Art schools
seem to be spearheading this movement of incredibly high tuition according to
the U.S. Department of Education’s College Affordability and Transparency
Center. Eight of the top ten most expensive schools in the nation are schools
dedicated to subjects like theater, music, graphic design, and of course,
animation. No one seems to be certain why, as there are multiple theories to
choose from.
Pishkur
believes that part of the problem may be these schools specific arts-related facilities.
“Some
of the more expensive parts of any university are the various performing and
studio arts,” he points out. “Art, music, and theater have a range of diverse
facilities, materials, and equipment that are not really sharable but tied to
one specific usage.”
Pishkur
also points out that maintaining these facilities can be costly when they are
not functioning for multiple purposes, like a conference room or classroom.
Universities that are completely focused on the arts therefore would have a
higher cost of upkeep.
Top ten most expensive universities in the United States. Image courtesy of The U.S. Department of Education’s College Affordability and Transparency Center’s college net-price calculator tool.
This
upkeep may be one reason that CalArts tops the list as one of the most
expensive schools after scholarships and grants have been distributed. Its fees
have not only caused protests among the students. Alumni like Alex Hirsch, the creator
of the animated Disney series Gravity
Falls, have rebuked their former school.
Hirsch
stated in a Tweet on March 16 that “These tuitions are indefensible. I’d love
to hear CalArts explain where the hell this money is going, because it sure isn’t
going to the teachers, lecturers, or student resources. Honestly it seems
criminal.”
Students and alumni, like animator Alex Hirsch, are demanding explanations for CalArts’ raised tuition costs. Image courtesy of Twitter user Alex Hirsch.
However,
CalArts’ Board of Directors has stated that the increase in tuition is necessary
to pay for faculty and staff’s wages. Still, the student body sees the prices
as outrageous and to express this, they have protested the tuition hike throughout
the month of March.
Coverage
of these demonstrations has started wide-spread, online discussions of whether
one needs to attend art school to become a successful artist in any field,
animation included. Some have argued fervently against attending and others,
like Pishkur, remind students to do what is best for them.
“One
simply does not need to go to school to be an artist,” he says. “You can be
self-taught and be a success. You have to find the place that is the best fit.
For some, it is the very expensive, large place with the newest and best
equipment. For others it will be the inexpensive place where everything is
cobbled together.”
Pishkur’s
final thoughts echo many of these participants in this heated debate: become an
artist and do your best. Many believe that that is all one needs, Pishkur included
“Regardless of where one goes, they have to be passionate about their artistic practice,” he says. “If so, they will thrive no matter what school they attend, not because of it.”
“4-Year
or Above, Private Not-For-Profit with Highest Nest Price.” U.S. Department of Education’s College Affordability and Transparency
Center, http://www.collegecost.ed.gov/catc/#. Accessed 24 April 2019.
“4-Year
or Above, Private Not-For-Profit with Highest Nest Price.” U.S. Department of Education’s College Affordability and Transparency
Center, http://www.collegecost.ed.gov/catc/#. Accessed 24 April 2019.
@_AlexHirsch.
“These tuitions are indefensible. I’d love to hear @CalArts explain where the
hell this money is going, because it sure isn’t going to the teachers,
lecturers, or student resources. Honestly it seems criminal.” Twitter, 16 Mar. 2019, 4:39 p.m., http://www.twitter.com/_AlexHirsch/status/1107063810240634880.
Image courtesy of Clarissa Powell, creator and owner of Coon Comic.
At the age of twenty-two, there are many fears that I
thought I would have outgrown by now. Spiders, crowds, and doctors’ offices are
just a few. My mother’s reprimanding “teacher voice” and my grandmother’s
repeated questions of when I will “give her great-grandchildren” are two that I
do not think I will ever overcome.
However, with a cap and gown ordered, my most pressing
fear is the dreaded question that crops up at every wedding, holiday meal, and
small-talk infested conversation: “What will you do when you graduate?”
It is a variant of the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” question that teachers and random relatives have peppered me with since childhood. My answer remains unchanged from then: I do not know.
That is not to say that I have absolutely no clue what
I am going to do after I graduate. I have ideas that I would like to try and outrageous
dreams that I know I will likely never accomplish. So, maybe what I mean to say
when I mumble “I don’t know” to a distant family member who keeps pestering me
is that I am trying to figure it out along the way.
I have that annoying English-major tendency to stumble
upon what I would like to do after my original plans go awry. Like many of my
peers, I had different intents when it came to my major. At first, it was
animation and when tuition rates dashed my dream, I thought I would be a
graphic designer. Then, I decided I would be an undeclared major while I strengthened
my portfolio.
I began writing in my free time instead of drawing. The English department became my home before I knew it.
My point in including this illustration is to show that I had tentative plans that failed and, in turn, sent me to the place I needed to be. The plans I have for my future career are the same in that respect. They are completely tentative and may never come to fruition. Still, I know that these changes will guide me to my niche, even if they suck in that moment.
The biggest goal I have is to avoid freelancing as a full-time
career. I would like a steady job, because I enjoy the idea of a regular
paycheck and health insurance. I would like to avoid becoming a manifestation
of the starving artist stereotype and to do this, I can see myself working in
the nonprofit world.
The idea of working for a nonprofit appeals to me
mainly because I enjoy helping others. It would give me a chance to find something
I am passionate about and turn it into a project. This blog, for example, has
been one of the few assignments that I have encountered where I do not feel
like I am doing work because I enjoy the subject matter. I want that same
feeling in my future career.
Aside from working for a nonprofit, I would like a career that presents me with opportunities to be creative. Part of my interest in cel animation is the massive amount of creativity that is funneled into the process. I come from a creative background and it is not something I can lock in my past and leave behind. It shades my perspective and shapes what I do.
Scriptwriting might offer me a chance to let my creativity flow. I have tried a little of it in my courses for my communication minor and have enjoyed it. While I am not aiming to become a Hollywood screenwriter, I believe that scriptwriting is a career that I could enjoy, and I would like to try it, if given the chance.
So, if I have these answers, what is so terrifying about the question, “What will you do after you graduate?”
The answer is simple: fear.
The future scares me more than spiders, doctors’ offices, or even requests to give my grandmother great-grandchildren. The murky, unknowable portion of my life exists after graduation. My goals so far in life have been to graduate from high school and college. When I think of crossing the graduation stage and entering the world of nine-to-fives, blazers with shoulder pads, and office bagel days, I feel like a train that has run out of track.
Still, I find comfort in my past. I had no clue where
I was going to end up then and when my tentative plans went up in flames, I arrived
in a good place. So, even if I do not make it to the nonprofit or scriptwriting
world, I know that my good place is out there. It may take many disappointments
and failures, but I am determined to find it and conquer my fear of the future.
Vincent van Gogh re-imagined for the biopic Loving Vincent. Image courtesy of Tunde Vollenbroek of Cartoon Brew.
Since
the creation of computer-generated animations, like Disney’s Toy Story, traditional animations, like cel
animations, have been rare. Hand-drawn feature length films have practically
disappeared from movie theaters because of their labor-intensive and lengthy
productions.
However,
in 2017, the world of traditional animation was revived and modified with the
release of the Polish film Loving
Vincent. The biopic combines both fiction and reality to explore the death
of the famous Dutch painter, Vincent van Gogh, in an animation created with oil
paintings.
The entire film is comprised of Van Gogh’s work. Landscapes like the infamous Starry Night (1889), were used as backdrops and the subjects of his portraits were incorporated as the main characters, as one can see in the image below.
Douglas Booth as Armand Roulin, Loving Vincent‘s main character and a frequent model for van Gogh’s portraits. Image courtesy of Priscilla Frank of Huffpost.
This was the original vision of co-director, Dorota Kobiela’s idea for a seven-minute animation about Van Gogh. The short took ten years to bring to life and was the world’s first feature-length animation made of only oil paintings.
Loving Vincent’s directors, Kobiela
and her husband Hugh Welchman, started with computer-generated animation, but
felt the medium did not fit Van Gogh’s legacy. It took the couple four years to
develop the animation process they would use and another six to apply this
technique during production.
They
combined elements from paint-on-glass and rotoscoping animation. Paint-on-glass
animation had been used by animators like Aleksandr Petrov but is
time-consuming and difficult because an animator would
have to paint every frame over its predecessor on a piece of glass. Rotoscoping
involves tracing each frame of live-action footage and has been used in movies
like Disney’s Mary Poppins.
Unlike
paint-on-glass animation, Loving Vincent was
done entirely on canvas. The production technique is comparable to rotoscoping,
but the movie’s artists never traced an image.
Instead,
the 94-minute movie was initially filmed with live actors either performing in
front of green screens or in sets that resembled Van Gogh’s paintings. The
footage was edited together and then recreated frame-by-frame, in oils.
The
film’s painters were given a still of the frame they were recreating and then
painted the actors and backgrounds in Van Gogh’s streaky, impasto style. The artists
would scrape portions of the paint off the canvas and repaint them to ensure
animation was smooth and consistent. So, if a character was walking, their legs,
and maybe part of their body, would be removed. It is estimated that Loving Vincent’s painters did this an
average of 76 times for each canvas.
The process of transforming actress Saoirse Ronan into Loving Vincent character, Margeurite Gachet. Video courtesy of Vimeo user FilmStudioCeTA
The volume of work was tremendous. Nearly 65,000 paintings were completed for the film.
Each
finished painting was photographed twice in high resolution. The pictures were
then played in a sequence of twenty-four photos a second.
The directors insisted on hiring classically trained painters with little knowledge about animation to avoid a stylized movie. They had initially intended to recruit painters exclusively from Poland but realized there were not that many painters in the country. They received 5,000 portfolios from around the globe after their demonstration video garnered close to 200 million views. Only 125 applicants were chosen to be part of the production.
The
artists worked in a hangar at the Gdansk Science and Technology Park in Poland where
painters were given individual workspaces. After receiving 200 hours of
training in Van Gogh’s style and animation, they meticulously created the movie
frame-by-frame.
Loving Vincent painters during production in Gdansk, Poland. Image courtesy of Loving Vincent.
Production
was painfully slow. Loving Vincent’s painters
would spend anywhere between half a day to two days creating one painting. Each
second of the movie contained twelve frames and it was estimated that the
artists could have worked on one second for almost a month.
Kobiela and Welchman’s new technique was even slower than stop-motion animation, which is notoriously slow. Films like Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas result in an average of two seconds of completed footage a day. Loving Vincent’s average completion was one-third of a second every day for six years.
The
long journey was worthwhile, however. The film received endorsement from the
Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and was nominated for over fifteen awards,
including an Oscar for Best Animated Feature.
Some
critics perceived the plot of the film as lacking, but its stunning animation
has continuously dazzled audiences. Artists writing reviews for the film raved
about the originality of Loving Vincent’s
animation technique and the laborious process’s spectacular results.
In recent years, the film has been one of few returns to traditional animation and its outcome was extraordinary. It is truly a piece worthy of Van Gogh’s legacy and now has a well-earned place in hand-drawn- or painted- animation history.
Loving Vincent is available to stream on iTunes, Amazon, Google Play, and Hulu. View thetheatrical trailer here.
This
blog is part of a semester-long project in my capstone professional writing
course. Part of this assignment requires me to examine my abilities as a writer
and my relationship to writing.
The
writing skills I have developed have stemmed from this basic relationship. Writing
has not always been easy, but it allows me to process my ideas and my emotions.
I gain new perspectives and can work through my problems. It gives me
confidence, because I am not articulate verbally, but I have opportunities to
change that on the page.
Writing
lets me hone my abilities and, as stated above, the best skills I have come
from my relationship with writing. Thoroughness, organization, specificity, and
critique are the abilities I feel that I have developed the most.
Thoroughness
is one of my best traits as a writer. I leave nothing to chance and I am
detail-oriented, sometimes painfully so. This makes me a determined and
resourceful researcher. Thoroughness is ingrained in my writing practices and
my connection to writing. It allows me to examine every aspect of my ideas and
to fully flesh out my thoughts.
Writing
also allows me to organize those thoughts. When my mind moves too quickly, or
my ideas feel jumbled, coaxing words out on a page leaves me with a clearer
view of the big picture. I am an organized person and this bleeds into my
writing habits. I have a specific system to keep track of my deadlines, my
sources, and the dozens of Word documents I use each semester.
Specificity
is another skill that I pride myself in. I try not to dance around the subject,
but instead dive in with my readers in tow. I am not an assertive person
verbally, but specificity allows me to assert myself and my rhetorical identity
to my audience. Part of this skill comes from my editing process, which weeds
out unnecessary information. Reviewing my work gives me a chance to replace
weak verbs with specific action words, too.
My ability to critique my work goes along with this editing process. I am very critical of my writing and this allows me to ask myself tough questions that I do not always want to hear. I can redirect my projects when they derail and revise my ideas more efficiently in this way.
The relationship I have with writing is complicated, but these skills I have developed make the process easier. Even if writing is filled with hills and valleys, it gives me a voice that I am not able find through other means. It grants me confidence and allows me to bring ideas and situations to life.
An animation cel from Disney’s TheJungle Book (1969) Image courtesy of Shara Morris of The Frame The animation cel being lifted from its background. Image courtesy of Shara Morris of The Frame
Cartoons
and animated movies have long been a staple for the typical American childhood,
including my own. The animation that I remember and cherish most is 2D
animation. This type is defined by hand-drawn images that are played in a
sequence to mimic motion.
Humans
have been trying to convey motion in art since 3,000 B.C. An ancient ceramic
bowl unearthed in Iran in the 1970’s is one of the earliest examples of these
attempts. Silhouettes of a leaping goat are painted on the bowl. Each figure
illustrates another point in the goat’s arc.
From
the bronze age to the mid-1800’s, artists continued to pursue the idea of
movement through a series of images. The beginning of the twentieth century
marked the birth of hand-drawn animation.
Émile Cohl, a French artist, completed the first hand-drawn animated feature in 1908. Fantasmagorie featured a stick figure and his encounters in different situations. The entire film was a little more than a minute and took nearly 700 drawings to complete.
The animation was crudely done when compared to Winsor McCay’s Gertie the Dinosaur, which was finished in 1914, just six years later.
The
short film combined silent movie scenes with hand-drawn animation of a dinosaur
named Gertie. McCay stood on one side of the movie screen during his film and
issued commands to Gertie, who would obey (and sometimes disobey) them. Her
distinct personality made Gertie lovable and life-like.
McCay
poured six months into the cartoon and created over 10,000 drawings to complete
it. Each drawing was done on a sheet of rice paper and placed against a piece
of cardboard to be photographed. McCay’s only assistant was a neighbor who traced
the background of each frame.
That
same year, Earl Hurd, a cartoonist in New York City, filed a patent for a very
different method: cel animation.
Cel
animation was named after its basic component, a thin sheet of plastic called a
cel. They were traditionally made of highly flammable cellulose and the medium had
many imperfections, like a tendency to buckle and peel.
Animated
characters were drawn on the cels and they were used like pages in a flipbook. One
cel usually equaled one frame out of millions. The process was time-consuming,
expensive, and took hundreds of artists to complete. However, it was highly
effective in making still, hand-drawn pictures mimic movement.
Scientists
speculate that we perceive the sequence of cels as movement because of a theory
called the persistence of vision. It is believed that an image stays in the
retina for less than a fifth of a second. The images flow together to create
the animation we see.
Cel animation
was adopted by Walt Disney in the 1920’s. Disney’s animation studios revolutionized
the process through mass-production until The
Little Mermaid in 1989.
Disney
began using the Computer Animation Production System (CAPS) that year. Studios
soon depended on computer software to make animation
easier and less expensive. Cel animation’s popularity soon declined.
Cels
now exist only in some classrooms and in Disney’s Animation Research Library
(ARL). The ARL holds records of past productions, including millions of original
cels. The predecessor of the ARL was jokingly called a morgue by Disney himself.
Today,
I think the nickname is appropriate for the place where cel animation has gone
to, quite literally, rot.
Even if it was costly
and time-consuming, I think there is still something magical about cel
animation and bringing something to life with your own hands. This website will
explain and explore cel animation for anyone who shares the same curiousity.
And I hope that in doing so, I can bring that same magic back to life.
Klazema,
April. “2D Animation: A Comprehensive Guide to the Fundamentals.” Udemy, 3 March 2014, http://www.blog.udemy.com/2d-animation-2/.
Accessed 24 February 2019.
McCormick, Kristen and Michael R. Schilling. “Animation Cels: Preserving a Portion of Cinematic History.” The Getty Conservation Institute, 2014, http://www.getty.edu/ conservation/publications_resources/newsletters/29_1/animation.html. Accessed 25 February 2019.
Persistence of Vision 