#especially as i learn more about film and editing and composition in general

[wanderer-clarisse]

wanted to try something new and paint a night scene - I'm sure there's still lots to improve but I'm happy with how it turned out!

[reachexceedinggrasp]

Would love to hear about your beefs with Lucas because I have beefs with Lucas

(Sorry it took me three thousand years to answer this, anon.)

They mainly fall under a few headings, with the third being the most serious and the thing that I am genuinely irl furious about at least biannually (and feeling unable to adequately sum up The Problem with it after yelling about it so often is a huge part of why this post has been in my drafts for such a long time):

1. His self-mythologising and the subsequent uncritical repetition of his bullshit in the fandom. Obvious lies like that he had some master plan for 10 films when it’s clear he did not have anything like a plot outline at any point. We all know the thing was written at the seat of various people’s pants, it’s blatantly self-evident that’s the case. There’s also plenty of public record about how the OT was written. Even dumber, more obvious lies, like that Anakin was ‘always the protagonist’ and the entire 6 films were his story from the beginning. This is preposterous and every time someone brings it up (usually with palpable smugness) as fanboys ‘not understanding star wars’ because they don't get that ‘the OT is not Luke's story’... Yeah, I just... I cannot.

Vader wasn’t Anakin Skywalker until ESB, it’s a retcon. It’s a brilliant retcon and it works perfectly, it elevated SW into something timeless and special it otherwise would not have been, but you can tell it wasn’t the original plan and there’s proof it wasn’t the original plan. Let’s not pretend. And Luke is the protagonist. No amount of waffling about such esoteric flights of theory as ‘ring structure’ is going to get away from the rigidly orthodox narrative and the indisputable fact that it is Luke’s hero’s journey. Vader’s redemption isn’t about his character development (he has almost none) and has no basis in any kind of convincing psychological reality for his character, but it doesn’t need to be because it’s part of Luke’s arc, because Vader is entirely a foil in Luke’s story. It’s a coming-of-age myth about confronting and growing beyond the father.

All attempts to de-centre Luke in RotJ just break the OT’s narrative logic. It’s a character-driven story and the character driving is Luke. Trying to read it as Anakin’s victory, the moral culmination of his choices rather than Luke’s and putting all the agency into Anakin’s hands just destroys the trilogy’s coherence and ignores most of its content in favour of appropriating a handful of scenes into an arc existing only in the prequels. The dilemma of RotJ is how Luke will define ethical adulthood after learning and growing through two previous films worth of challenge, education, failure, and triumph; it’s his choice to love his father and throw down his sword which answers the question the entire story has been asking. Vader’s redemption and the restoration of the galaxy are the consequences of that choice which tell us what kind of world we’re in, but the major dramatic conflict was resolved by Luke’s decision not the response to it.

And, just all over, the idea of Lucas as an infallible auteur is inaccurate and annoying to me. Obviously he’s a tremendous creative force and we wouldn’t have sw without him, but he didn’t create it alone or out of whole cloth. The OT was a very collaborative effort and that’s why it’s what it is and the prequels are what they are. Speaking of which.

2. The hubris of the prequels in general and all the damage their many terrible, protected-from-editors choices do to the symbolic fabric of the sw universe. Midicholrians, Yoda fighting with a lightsabre, Obi-wan as Anakin's surrogate father instead of his peer, incoherent and unmotivated character arcs, the laundry list of serious and meaningful continuity errors, the bad storytelling, the bad direction, the bad characterisation, the shallowness of the parallels which undermine the OT’s imagery, the very clumsy and contradictory way the A/P romance was handled, the weird attitude to romance in general, it goeth on. I don’t want to re-litigate the entire PT here and I’m not going to, but they are both bad as films and bad as prequels. The main idea of them, to add Anakin’s pov and create an actual arc for him as well as to flesh out the themes of compassion and redemption, was totally appropriate. The concept works as a narrative unit, there are lots of powerful thematic elements they introduce, they have a lot of cool building blocks, it’s only in execution and detail that they do a bunch of irreparable harm.

But the constant refrain that only ageing fanboys don’t like them and they only don’t like them because of their themes or because they humanise Anakin... can we not. The shoddy film making in the prequels is an objective fact. If you want to overlook the bad parts for the good or prioritise ideas over technique, that’s fine, but don’t sit here and tell me they’re masterworks of cinema there can be no valid reason to criticise. I was the exact right age for them when I saw them, I am fully on board with the fairy tale nature of sw, I am fully on board with humanising Anakin- the prequels just have a lot of very big problems with a) their scripts and b) their direction, especially of dialogue scenes. If Lucas had acknowledged his limitations like he did back in the day instead of believing his own press, he could have again had the help he obviously needed instead of embarrassing himself.

3. Killing and suppressing the original original trilogy. I consider the fact that the actual original films are not currently available in any form, have never been available in an archival format, and have not been presented in acceptable quality since the VHS release a very troubling case study in the problems of corporate-owned art. LF seizing prints of the films whenever they are shown, destroying the in-camera negatives to make the special editions with no plans to restore them, and doing all in the company’s considerable power to suppress the original versions is something I consider an act of cultural vandalism. The OT defined a whole generation of Hollywood. It had a global impact on popular entertainment. ANH is considered so historically significant it was one of the first films added to the US Library of Congress (Lucas refused to provide even them with a print of the theatrical release, so they made their own viewable scan from the 70s copyright submission).

The fact that the films which made that impact cannot be legally accessed by the public is offensive to me. The fact that Lucas has seen fit to dub over or composite out entire performances (deleting certain actors from the films), to dramatically alter the composition of shots chosen by the original directors, to radically change the entire stylistic tone by completely reinventing the films’ colour timing in attempt to make them match the plasticy palate of the prequels, to shoot new scenes for movies he DID NOT DIRECT, add entire sequences or re-edit existing sequences to the point of being unrecognisable etc. etc. is NOT OKAY WITH ME when he insists that his versions be the ONLY ones available.

I’m okay with the Special Editions existing, though I think they’re mostly... not good... but I’m not okay with them replacing the original films. And all people can say is ‘well, they’re his movies’.

Lucas may have clear legal ownership in the capitalistic sense, but in no way does he have clear artistic ownership. Forget the fans, I’m not one of those people who argue the fans are owed something: A film is always a collaborative exercise and almost never can it be said that the end product is the ultimate responsibility and possession of one person. Even the auteur directors aren't the sole creative vision, even a triple threat like Orson Welles still had cinematographers and production designers, etc. Hundreds of artists work on films. Neither a writer nor a director (nor one person who is both) is The Artist behind a film the way a novelist is The Artist behind a novel. And Lucas did NOT write the screenplays for or direct ESB or RotJ. So in what sense does he have a moral right to alter those films from what the people primarily involved in making them deemed the final product? In what sense would he have the right to make a years-later revision the ONLY version even if he WERE the director?

Then you get into the issue of the immeasurable cultural impact those films had in their original form and the imperative to preserve something that is defining to the history of film and the state of the zeitgeist. I don't think there is any ‘fan entitlement’ involved in saying the originals belonged to the world after being part of its consciousness for decades and it is doing violence to the artistic record to try to erase the films which actually occupied that space. It's exactly like trying to replace every copy of It's a Wonderful Life with a colourised version (well, it's worse but still), and that was something Lucas himself railed against. It’s like if Michaelangelo were miraculously resuscitated and he decided to repaint the Sistine Ceiling to add a gunfight and change his style to something contemporary.

I get genuinely very upset at the cold reality that generations of people are watching sw for the first time and it’s the fucking SE-except-worse they’re seeing. And as fewer people keep physical media and the US corporate oligarchy continues to perform censorship and rewrite history on its streaming services unchecked by any kind of public welfare concerns, you’ll see more and more ‘real Mandela effect’ type shit where the cultural record has suddenly ‘always’ been in line with whatever they want it to be just now. And US media continues to infect us all with its insidious ubiquity. I think misrepresenting and censoring the past is an objectively bad thing and we can’t learn from things we pretend never happened, but apparently not many people are worried about handing the keys to our collective experience to Disney and Amazon.

4. The ‘Jedi don’t marry’ thing and how he wanted this to continue with Luke post-RotJ, so it’s obviously not meant to be part of what was wrong with the order in the prequels. I find this... incoherent on a storytelling level. The moral of the anidala story then indeed becomes just plain ‘romantic love is bad and will make you crazy’, rather than the charitable reading of the prequels which I ascribe to, which is that the problem isn’t Anakin’s love for Padmé, it’s that he ceased to love her and began to covet her. And I can’t help but feel this attitude is maybe an expression of GL’s issues with women following his divorce. I don’t remember if there’s evidence to contradict that take, since it’s been some time since I read about this but yeah. ANH absolutely does sow seeds for possible Luke/Leia development and GL was still married while working on that film. Subsequently he was dead set against Luke ever having a relationship and decided Jedi could not marry. Coincidence?

There’s a lot of blinking red ‘issues with women’ warning signs all over Lucas’s work, but the prequels are really... egregious.

[silentsockfeet]

tlou2 photomode tips

disclaimer: these are just my go-to tricks that i like to use, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll work for everyone! each person has their own taste and style that they have to develop and these are just what i’ve found work best for me

just going through section by section which settings I use. but i just want to note that a lot of the things i keep in mind when taking photos are what i’ve learned through real life photography and through my film major, where i was taught things like composition, lighting, etc. i have general tips i can give about that as well but for now i just thought i’d keep it to the actual settings i use, partly bc this post is already long as fuck

camera

for portraits, set camera roll to 90 (or -90, it’s the exact same just in different directions)

for all my portraits i’ll usually have field of view set all the way to zero and camera zoomed in as far as it’ll go, tho obviously this changes depending on what you want

depth of field

depth of field is one of the most important tools for drawing the eye and keeping your photos less muddled. you can keep your subject in focus while blurring everything else, so your viewer knows exactly what they’re supposed to be looking at

for nearly all my photos i keep DOF intensity at about 70

DOF is also good for creating a mood. for example, if i want really soft, cosy type photos i’ll have really intense DOF (about 80). if i want crisp action photos i’ll have less intense DOF (50-60)

lately i've been doing some experimenting and setting DOF at 100 to try and get some cool effects but again, this all comes down to personal taste. do your own experimenting and find what you like!

display

brightness changes from photo to photo. i started a system where i’ll find a 10-point range where the brightness looks good (ie. 35-45) and then take a photo at every 5 points (so three photos at 35, 40, 45)

again, these numbers aren’t set, i find whatever range looks best for the photo and then choose the best looking one after uploading to my computer

sharpness i usually don’t tamper with

i only use saturation alongside a 50% noir filter, which i’ve explained more below

screen effects

chromatic aberration is usually always the original settings. every now and then i'll amp it up if i think it looks cool but i've very rarely done this. again, all comes down to personal taste

film grain is pretty much always set to zero unless i want to use it for stylistic effect, which is rare

filters

what i do fairly often to get the dark backgrounds i like is to set filter to noir but change intensity to 50. then i’ll go to the display tab and change saturation to 30, sometimes 35 (the numbers aren’t always these tho, you have to eyeball it to find where the skin tones look normal)

this keeps the edges dark but still makes characters look as colorful as normal

noir is probably the filter i use most often, but every now and then i’ll use vintage, blorange, or none. 

this is really where you can take my advice with a grain of salt because filters are very much a personal taste option, so find what you like!

vignette

for most of my photos, i have vignette ON but size and intensity are both set to 0. i find it helps even out the photo, so that background isn’t too bright while characters are too dark

if i want a particularly dark background, i’ll sometimes set both to 50. very rarely, if i want a darker background but all 0 is too light and all 50 is too dark, i’ll set size to 75 and intensity to 25.

but again, for nearly all of my photos they’re both set to 0

misc.

to summarize, my most common settings: camera roll 90, DOF intensity 70, multiple shots at different brightness settings, film grain 0, noir 50% with saturation bumped slightly, vignette ON but both settings at 0

your flashlight is your best source of lighting! it’s the only source you can actually control, so it’s especially helpful when photographing NPCs. shine your flashlight in their face and harass them!! i use the very edge of the light bc the center is often too bright and leaves a weird ring of light on their face

sometimes using the NPC’s flashlight as a source of light for your main character is also helpful, but it’s definitely harder, since obviously you can’t control them. just something to keep in mind

besides the flashlight, other in game objects can help to make cool effects as well. in this set i posted recently i used smoke bombs to make a more solid backdrop. they also help to emphasize light rays so i want to experiment with it more lol 

most important thing to note is that i take a SHIT TON of photos. i’m guessing for every one i post there’s ten i don’t. the reason for this is, the graphics on your tv are gonna be set to different formats than your computer or phone, so your photos won’t look the same on each device. i always choose photos based on how good they look on my phone, because i figure that’s what most people will see them on. so if you’re like me and you don’t have / can’t afford good photo editing software, the best way to account for what looks best is to take a bunch of the same photo but on different settings and then compare on a separate device

i pretty much don’t make any edits outside of photomode save for cropping photos, but even then i've been trying to do that less. very rarely i'll make some brightness adjustments if they turn out too dark on my computer, but i try to avoid that as much as possible

i seriously can’t stress this enough, but just have patience and keep trying! the worst thing i always do is get all in my head about which posts were successful and whether or not people like my photos, but honestly? just ignore it and photograph what YOU like. art is an inherently selfish hobby. don’t let anything discourage you, just post what you like and keep trying to improve!

i tried to keep this limited to my general settings, but again, it changes with every shot. if y’all want to ask more specific questions about specific shots or whatever please feel free! or if you just want to ask general questions that's cool too! i'm always happy to help :)

[struwwelzeter]

Because i miss your design themed rants (it is good word here) i would like you to rank Rammstein album covers from designers point of view.

Ah, I love you. This got VERY ranty.

This is kinda hard because I tend to judge the entire packagaing/notes, and when I count that into it the ranking would be ever so slightly different. I’ll mention it for each I have Opinions (TM) on, but yeah, this is solely going on cover. I’ll only do the studio albums, not made in germany or the DVDs, or this will get too big.

7th: Rosenrot.

I know lots of you are gonna hate me for this. It’s not that I don’t like it, I do, it’s beautiful. Unfortunately it’s ... slightly lazy. It’s I think their most obvious cover and obvious feels like it’s good design but never truly is. It’s got that first idea feel, if that makes any sense. There is always that project where you go “uh can’t think of anything, but this works.” It’s not a bad thing, they clearly still knew what they were doing. It’s just ... that typical photoshop post apocalyptic composit that lost of metal/alternative bands did at some point. They all did it because it’s cool. No argument there. It’s just that I expect a bit ... more.

6th: Herzeleid

I know it’s iconic, but. The execution?! Terrible. The colours of their skin and that flower?! Too different to feel monochromatic, to same same to contrast nicely. Too much texture. What is that?! The positive bit is the placement of the typography because, neat! Most people fail at that. I like the blue-grey there aswell, how about you’d added that to their skin a little? No? Ok.

Also, this (Richard speaking):

“The bloody sleeve! What a crazy situation that was. We approved the photos in a car park without thinking what we were letting ourselves in for. When we saw what the designer had done, we freaked! We looked so… gay! All of us stripped to the waist. It was like an ad for a gay porno film. So we had to say, sort it out. Make us look straight again. Change the sleeve.”

Who in the fuck works like this?! Nevermind, I know it was a considerably younger Dirk Rudolph, but fucking hell, have some self respect, all of you. I know they didn’t know what they were doing, they probably had the management/record company comission it, and that was still the time graphic designers were seen as just pixel pushers from that time it took 3 days to layout a poster. Still. What was that brief?! Could you have sat down for 20 minutes and talk, perhaps?! Also, I hope this is how Richie learned to be the nightmare client I know he is. Don’t approve layouts in a car park, what the fuck is wrong with you.

It’s a pity because the concept? Nice. Sculpted men infront of flowers, what else do you want from life. Why crysanthemes, tho? Too textured in that macro shot. What is that photo angle?! Might try and redo that if I ever feel like it.

5th: Reise, Reise

This breaks my heart a little, because it’s my lonely island album. And it isn’t bad by any stretch. Actually, their album cover game is ridiculous, can I have that established as a general benchmark? It would make for a lot less mental break downs. The thing is ... I like the idea. Make it look like the black box, cool. The problem is the type. It makes it look like “Flugrekorder Nicht Öffnen” is the album title. To be fair, Typesetting is my main thing, and album artists get it wrong (imo) 99 out of 100 times. I wish they would have comitted more and just left the titel off and solved it with a slide in, or a sticker or something like that. It’s just a bit ... weird. What works brilliantly is that it’s very memorable, stands out on the shelf, is unusual, all of that. It’s iconic. I do like it very much but I had to place something here.

4th: Liebe ist für alle da

Now the thing with that album is that it has two covers. If I’d gone by the original one, I’d have to place it behind Reise, Reise. Everything RR has in impact, this is missing. It’s too dark, has too many pieces, it won’t stand out on a shelf. Especially not in the CD age when it was on 12x12 cm. Even on a Vinyl, it’s ... just not that impactful. Sure, the photograph is beautiful but meh. Luckily there is a second option. And that - is almost like a logo. It works as a symbol, and that makes it so strong. Less is more. Brilliant. You can draw it from memory. It’s so iconic, the kind of stuff that starts showing up in subways, drawn on the back of a seat and sprayed on walls. Tell me you never wanted to paint that on a flag and take it to a pride parade. I am sure some of us have.

I do want to mention the booklet in this, because it does bump it up a little too, because where the panorama image fails as a cover, the inside is done so beautifully with the fold out, the type setting, everything. It’s special, and done with love and it shows.

3rd: Mutter

There is just something about this that is so, so, so memorable. Everyone recognises this. If you ask anyone over the age of 20 to describe Rammstein with an album cover only to someone less familiar, is anyone gonna say anything but “they’re the band with the embryo in close up”?! Maybe this is subjective because that’s how I first got exposed to them, but I don’t think so. It’s such a powerful image. It’s both beautiful and uncomfortable, the way Rammstein as a whole and that album in particular is beautiful and uncomfortable. It’s stunning. That’s it. Unfortunately, this one falls apart inside. The went too far with the whole Matrix inspired cyber elements. It’s trendy and trendy never stands the test of time, in that it has the same problem Rosenrot has, but much worse because it’s not even done that well. They could have just used the photos and kept it raw. The type setting on the cover is as good as it gets with albums tho, so I am happy.

2nd: Sehnsucht

Ah, Sehnsucht. The most perfect band shoot they ever had. Helnwein just ... did it. I don’t know, it both defined and summed up who they are aesthetically for the longest time. It’s the visual statement that says “this is Rammstein”. It ... just looks like a band that sings about heartbreak and necrophilia is supposed to look like. Don’t you agree? How else would it look like? Even that omniously coloured beach. It’s as if the predicted the mood of True Detective, only less Hollywood. That darkness we don’t want to see, that can happen anywhere. And where they fell short with Mutter, where they added too much on to these powerful images, they just added the type. Granted, it was the 90s so it’s slightly experimental type. But unlike most type in the 90s it stood the test of time. Add the whole variable cover versions and chefs kiss! Beautiful work. Makes me happy and emotional and ugh.

1st: The White Album

I’m just calling it that now. The Matchstick. You know, good design is made up from three components only: Concept. Commitment. Execution. The concept of this is so streamlined and clean. It’s the entire Rammstein story narrowed down to a single little thing. It’s small and ordinary looking but it can become dangerous and big. It’s underestimated. A little piece of wood with a head of phosphor and calium chlorit and yet you can commit the most legendary arson. It’s the personification of the thing that has become synonymous with them: Fire. It says so much with so little. And then they comitted to that. No useless typography, a simple but oh so well done photoshoot, the simple text on white. They didn’t ad too much additional ideas on to it, they trusted that one to carry and it does. They could have done without the black and white match stick arrangements inside, although I’m not even sure if that’s not just a limited edition thing, it’s a bit too much almost. They got scared a little there. The execution is also well done, I have very little to critique, only that I feel it lacks a tiny bit of love. The thing is, the more minimalist you go, the more love you have to put into each element. I feel like the spacing of the type should have been fixed in a few places but honestly that is being very very picky. Or not. Because if it wasn’t for that, and the teeeeny tiny commitment issue, this should have been a candidate for the packaging grammy. I mean it should be even the way it is, but we all know how those fuckers ignore our boys.

I’m done. Can I use this as application? Do you think if I send them a run down of basically tearing them apart they will hire me?

[recentanimenews]

INTERVIEW: Rajorshi Basu on Creating Studio Durga and the State of Anime in India

All images via Studio Durga

  What constitutes “anime” is a topic of much debate. The general public associates the word “anime” with a particular visual style. Purists, on the other hand, believe that only animation made in Japan can be considered anime, regardless of whether the visuals are on the K-On! end of the spectrum or the Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt end of the spectrum. This is, to an extent, understandable. But can such a strict definition continue to hold weight in an era where anime is becoming increasingly global? Can a production from outside Japan that possesses all the traits we have come to associate with anime be called anime?

  The members of Studio Durga — an independent animation studio based in New Delhi, India — certainly seem to think so. They proudly claim to be India’s first anime studio. While India has worked on anime in the past — in the form of co-productions with Japan (such as Ramayana: the Legend of Prince Rama) — what sets Studio Durga apart is the fact that they work without any foreign assistance, be it from Japan or elsewhere. Their debut work Karmachakra — an 80-minute Bengali-language film, the first in a series of films — is an entirely independent film, made by a core team of only seven members for animation production. Karmachakra is pending release, but the first 20 minutes of the film have been uploaded on YouTube as a “pilot episode” — which won awards at the Independent Shorts Awards 2020: the Platinum Award for Best Animation Short, and Honorable Mentions for Best Web Series/TV Pilot and Best Original Score. Karmachakra is a supernatural mystery-drama, aimed at an older audience — something that is rare in India, where animation has long been seen as a medium for younger audiences only. The Indian anime community has reacted very favorably to Karmachakra, with many heralding it as a step forward for animation in India.

    I reached out to Studio Durga founder and CEO Rajorshi Basu, who was kind enough to answer my questions. We had a great discussion, not only about Karmachakra, but about anime and 2D animation in general. Here’s what he had to say:

(The following questions and answers are lightly edited for clarity and content.)

How did you get into anime and manga?

  Rajorshi: The first anime I recall watching was Ninja Robots on Cartoon Network — way back when I was three or four years old and didn’t really know it was called anime. There was Heidi, Girl of the Alps, also on Cartoon Network, a title from the World Masterpiece Theater collection of anime. It was my first exposure to the work of many old masters, including Hayao Miyazaki. Then they started showing anime on the Toonami programming block, with Cardcaptors and Dragon Ball and all that stuff.

  Animax was also a huge factor. I used to check out a lot of stuff on Animax before it finally went away. And then of course streaming services happened. But yeah, it was tough to get your hands on anime and manga back then. I remember that you would just chance upon secondhand manga in shops. That was procurement back in the day. But now it’s a different ballgame; one can just open up Netflix and find all kinds of different shows. Throughout the years there have been a lot of different shows that have influenced me, and all of that comes into the stuff that we are doing. I think this idea of doing an Indian anime was something I’ve had since my early teens to late teens.

So you decided pretty early on that you wanted to make an Indian anime, is that right?

  Rajorshi: Yeah, this idea has been with me for roughly half my life. It's just that I actually knew how to do it after a whole lot of experiences. Especially after visiting Japan in 2013. I went there for a pop culture research program where we were actually given access to facilities that make Japanese entertainment, including animation.

  So did you face any opposition in pursuing this path?

  Rajorshi: We faced nothing but opposition, actually. In 2017 we’d put out a trailer on YouTube and, you know, it was just a sort of demo. It's not there anymore; we took it off. This was way before we brought out the actual trailer that you see right now. It was only after we took it to the quality that we wanted that people started thinking about the possibility of, you know, Indian anime. Especially after 2019, when the two movies (Weathering With You and Dragon Ball Super: Broly) were released in India. The community started considering the possibility that Indian anime can happen. 

  I think there are two main challenges. One challenge (which we’ve kind of got past) was finding the right people for the production because hand-drawn animation is a lost art and it's very tough to find people who pursue that. It was tough finding people, which is also why we are a very small team. We somehow managed, over a number of years, to finish the movie production. 

  The other challenge (one we are facing right now) is distribution. I think that’s because India does not have a proper distributor for anime. Of course, we see some anime on Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, and Crunchyroll. Disney+ Hotstar, which actually has the biggest reach in India, don't showcase any anime. There is a solid market and demand for anime in India but there's hardly any supply, which is why we thought we’d fill that gap in the market. It depends on what kind of channels you go through when it comes to distribution. I mean, we are in talks with Netflix and Amazon Prime Video, and we want to be in talks with Crunchyroll. But it's very hard to find people, to find the correct approach or routes through which you take this product. I think that's what matters. In terms of distribution, routes matter more than the product itself because if you are talking about Netflix or Amazon Prime, they are going to look at it as an independent movie and they are also going to want to see examples of such production that has made it in the market and things like that.

  Obviously, there's a huge demand but there needs to be a distributor that recognizes the demand and what it means when something like our product (or anyone who is doing an animated film that is not for kids) gets licensed. Distribution is the final roadblock we are facing right now because when it comes to quality and production values, all of the people that we have talked to have appreciated our work. But when it comes to actually slating on an acquisition session, there's always some kind of discrepancy there. There's no one to handle animated movies when it comes to India, unless you’re talking about the kids’ market. That's a totally different topic.

  You raise an important point about 2D animation being something of a lost art. In particular, the whole Japanese anime workflow is totally different from what most people are used to doing. So, how did you learn it, and how did you find people with this skill?

  Rajorshi: So the current core team is a team of four people, including myself. I personally handle everything other than the actual drawing, because although I’ve studied design and art and all of those things, music and film production is what I have primarily been trained in and what I have experience in (the former of which I'd been recognized with a scholarship for from Berklee College of Music). Compositing — the final “look” of anime — is something that I learnt entirely on my own through observation and software/workflow research. So I know the process of anime production. There is hardly anyone who makes animation through this process in India. So I would say it is something very unique to our studio. 

  The people that I have, they were actually making the transition to college back when I hired them. They had considerable skill when it came to illustration and making animation, but it was this project that got everybody up to a certain level. The core team that I started with are still working together — basically the four of us, but we extend sometimes to 10 people. And if you’re talking about the total number of people involved in this project, it’s over 30. But finding the core team took a long time. I’d actually thought of starting a business with this around four or five years back, and since then it’s been about finding people to execute and help out in the process. 

  When it comes to hand-drawn animation, there is talent out there. There just needs to be a product that makes use of those talents. I wanted to create a forum where talented artists could join in and showcase their capabilities. It’s not that 2D animation is completely not there, it’s just that it’s not focused on by people as a career option because there are no outlets for it that are monetizable. I think that’s more of the problem. When you look at some talented students from NIDs [National Institutes of Design, India], you will find that they are very much capable of doing everything that we do. It’s just that there’s no forum or platform to create a product like this which makes use of both the anime production process as well as the hand-drawn aspect of it. 

So if you look at, say, Chinese animation studios, the way they started off was by doing subcontract work for Japanese anime studios. They slowly built up their own base, their own talent pool, and then started to make originals of their own. So, why did you decide to start off with an original rather than go through this process?

  Rajorshi: Chinese animation actually has a much richer history. They’ve been doing their own intellectual properties for longer than they’ve been outsourcing. But with India that is actually not the case. When it comes to 2D animation we’ve had collaborations with Japan in the past, whether it’s Ramayana or Batu Gaiden. But our main aim was to do something that was completely Indian-produced. I think that’s the main draw, so that we could call it India’s first anime. 

    Let’s talk a bit about outsourcing outside our realm of animation: when it comes to 3D animation and VFX. India is actually a world player in the market when it comes to 3D assets and VFX being outsourced to us. But when it comes to intellectual properties, there’s pockets of brilliance that surface from time to time, especially in the non-3D space, because the 3D space is a framework in itself, a framework that I personally have also been very connected with in the past, in all the projects that I’ve freelanced for (when it comes to music, editing, and the post-production side of things). When it comes to hand-drawn animation, I would say that there are these pockets of independent production which do not find the correct outlet or distribution platform. But they’re there; they’ve been there for a very long time. They’re not necessarily practicing the anime art style like we’re doing, but they’re doing hand-drawn animation nonetheless. And the quality and execution is something that’s worth showing to the world, it’s just that there’s no proper distribution channel as I was saying. Why anime? That’s because there’s huge demand for this particular art style. Since there was already a demand for it, as well as respect in the community for something that is a product made by India for India, that is where we came in and thought “this is a niche we want to fill.” 

  And look, most of the artists who worked on this project have already worked on commissions for foreign clients all of their lives. We don’t look at outsourcing as a route that we necessarily have to do first before we make our own intellectual property. Because we do that anyway: when it comes to making small animations for brands, or working for clients that are primarily non-Indian. The whole idea about this project is that it’s by India and for India. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a statement, but it is a specific niche that’s appealing to a lot of people, thankfully.

So let’s talk a bit more about Karmachakra itself. When I saw the trailer on YouTube, the art style stood out to me, and it reminded me of a couple of things. One was the works of Mamoru Hosoda, with his distinctive style of flat shading. The other was Shin Sekai Yori, which has sticker-like 2-dimensional character designs but with mood lighting and effects and appropriate color palettes to create an atmosphere. Were any of these your inspirations, or were there other influences?

    Rajorshi: I mean, Mamoru Hosoda is an inspiration for any animation filmmaker. My personal inspiration, in terms of direction and in terms of storytelling, is Satoshi Kon. You know, works like Perfect Blue, Millennium Actress, Paranoia Agent: all these films and shows that are very loved, conceptually and thematically. My second influence would be the directorial signature of Tetsuro Araki (Death Note, Attack on Titan); I think that directorial signature is very alluring. In terms of how to tell a story through many characters, I’d say Durarara is an influence. I mainly chose to go with urban fantasy, inspired by the unique approach that light novels like Boogiepop or Nisio Isin's works take. Other than that, I think my all-time favorite director is Shinichiro Watanabe (Cowboy Bebop). 

  Some more important key influences that left a huge mark on my imagination of what the medium can be are:

Wolf's Rain, Black Lagoon, the Steins;Gate franchise, Terror in Resonance, Michiko and Hatchin, Barakamon, Mushi-Shi, Great Pretender

Spirit-world action-comedies like The Devil is a Part-Timer, Blood Lad, Hoozuki’s Coolheadedness, and Noragami

Mind Game from director Masaaki Yuasa

Any project involving character designer Yoshitoshi Abe, like Texhnolyze, Serial Experiments Lain, etc

There's also the noitaminA block stuff; short, offbeat 11-episode per cour series with a broader audience in mind. Brings to mind the makers of the noitaminA logo animation, Studio Rikka and their charming sci-fi works such as Time of Eve and the like.

  In terms of manga:

The superlative, mind-game ridden works of Shinobu Kaitani

The out-of-this-world panelling in works by Keiichi Koike

The poignant interpersonal/social drama from folks like Shuzo Oshimi and Inio Asano

The artful, satirical guro manga from people like Shintaro Kago

The sprawling, epic series from the legendary Naoki Urasawa, such as Monster and the like

Brilliant food/drink manga such as Bartender and Sommeliere by Araki Joh, or even Oishinbo.

  These are just names I can think of right now, but there’s actually plenty of influences for all of us here at Studio Durga.

  Let’s talk about the OP. From Episode 0 of Karmachakra, what strikes me as its most "anime" element is its OP. From the song itself, with its “anime theme song” vibes, to the color palette reminiscent of the Psycho-Pass OP, to the character-focused cuts reminiscent of the Baccano and Durarara OPs, to the text on screen reminiscent of the Cowboy Bebop OP: this OP screams "anime." OPs usually are a studio's way of enticing viewers to watch an anime, so clearly, a lot of effort went into this OP. And it's a really attractive and alluring OP. What went into the making of this OP? How did you storyboard it, and how did you compose the opening song? How much more effort was it to animate, comparatively?

    Rajorshi: The OP song was composed, arranged, produced, and played by me more than six years ago. At the time, I was inspired to make a melody and instrumentation that sounds “classic anime.” It was a personal project back then, and I had no idea I was going to be using it for an anime production of my own in the future. So when it was time, my mom helped with the lyrics and I asked Tanisha (the singer who I've collaborated with on the ED as well) to sing out the lyrics composed for the song. It was a blast to make. Unlike the ED, which I composed much more recently, the OP arrangement is more busy than minimal, which was my style back then and which probably works better for the usual high-energy anime OP.

  Unlike background scoring, which is set to edited bits of animation, the animation for the OP was set to the music instead. We were using a scratch track and timing every cut to whichever hit we wanted it to fall on. The choreography and transitions took more time than standard animation, as the entire thing was meant to seamlessly flow with non-stop fluid animation. The effort varies in anime production from shot to shot, but in the case of the OP, it was about tying together an entire string of money-shots. Apart from the animation, we had a lot of fun with the compositing as well. Doing MVs is the most enjoyable activity for us.

Let’s talk about the world of Karmachakra. What inspired it? Personal, lived experience or literature and other media?

  Rajorshi: Karmachakra is a series of movies. The second and third are what we’re working on right now. The second is more of the action-thriller kind, and the third/finale is along the lines of philosophical sci-fi. But the first one is more of a mystery-drama. I’m a huge mystery buff; that’s a sort of personal favorite genre of mine. So thematically I think the first movie of Karmachakra is mostly a mystery-drama with certain supernatural elements and certain cultural elements to those supernatural elements. So there’s many different layers. I usually like to do something that is layered, something that is character-driven but layered not only in the histories of the characters but in the lore that ties it all together with a supernatural theme, and also the third layer that puts them in a cultural context. These are basically the three levels that we’re working on when it comes to Karmachakra. 

    When it comes to cultural influences, there’s me being a Bengali and hence making this in Bengali. That is something I had in mind from the beginning. Having connections to the Bengali film industry, getting some of the best names from there to do voice acting on this: that was definitely part of the plan. 

  For the script, I’ve had many, many different influences. My background is quite varied. Since I was a kid I’ve always been a music buff. I was very much into classic/prog rock and concept albums from the '70s and '80s, apart from my production and performance background in jazz, jazz fusion, RnB, soul, and funk. So storytelling is a huge part of music for me, whether it’s through film scoring or whether it’s through a concept album where you tell stories through music itself. Other than that, I graduated in English literature, which is a huge part of the general approach I take to things when it comes to layering and writing for film. For this production, between film, literary works, musical works, and anime, there’s a LOT of influences. I wanted to take all those influences and make something that was cohesive enough for someone who was watching, but at the same time wasn’t predictable or cookie-cutter like.

Are there any talented Indian animators you’d like to spotlight?

  Rajorshi: I would like to talk about Ghost Animation. They’ve been working on little animated clips for Bollywood movies for a very long time, but recently they made a short film, Wade, set during a flood that happened in Bengal. They put it up on Kickstarter, promoted it, and successfully got it funded. I think it won an award at Annecy or something. And it’s all hand-drawn.

  Apart from that, there’s a couple of guys who’ve been in the Indian anime community and illustrator community for a very long time. Their names are Krishna and Balram Bannerjee, but they’re informally called the Xong Bros. They’re primarily comic artists, so they don’t do a lot of animation, but they also work on animation for indie games made by foreign studios: they make some trailers and the like for them.

  There was also this short film that was commissioned by Royal Stag Short Films, called Death of a Father. Entirely hand-drawn. Not the anime artstyle, but entirely hand-drawn.

  Lastly, there’s Jazyl Homavazir. A long-time animator, illustrator, and coach in the Indian comics/animation scene in the art style of manga. Both him and the Xongs are dear friends of ours who support and appreciate our initiative.

Do you have any parting thoughts for our readers?

  Rajorshi: I would say don’t make any compromises. If you know you’re capable of doing something, whether it is independently or whether you have backing or whatever it is, don’t make any compromises and do something that is only an approximation of what you actually want to do. If you have a vision, just go ahead and do it, and then see what happens. You might succeed, or you might fail, but that will be a learning experience. Just because something is tangentially related to whatever vision you might have, don’t settle for less.  

  Are you excited for Karmachakra? Let us know in the comments!

    Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

  By: Manas B. Sharma

[lifeonashelf]

COHEN, LEONARD

So, here’s the thing: I don’t know anything about Leonard Cohen.

I do own two of his most acclaimed albums, but don’t get too excited. I bought both of them the week of Cohen’s passing solely because learning of his passing made me realize I didn’t have anything by him in my collection, and he’s always been on my radar as an artist I should probably know some things about, you know? I listened to those two discs one day while I was cleaning my apartment or something, and they were lovely and pleasant and sounded great, but then I filed them away on my shelf and that was essentially the extent of my immersion into the world of Leonard Cohen. I know the reissues I purchased are noteworthy entries in his discography, because they’re housed in these rather attractive hardcover digipacks with booklets that feature lengthy contextual essays written by people way smarter than me. I suppose I could read those essays and glean a little information about Cohen that way, but then I’d just be offering you disingenuous regurgitation, and I don’t want to fake anything in these pages; that’s kind of counteractive to the entire purpose of me writing these dumb things. So if you want to read a thoughtful essay about Leonard Cohen constructed by someone who I assume knows enough about Leonard Cohen to warrant being paid to write an essay about him, you should definitely seek out the striking deluxe editions of Songs From a Room and Songs of Love and Hate I’m referring to, because both have essays in them, and they’re printed on glossy paper so they’re probably pretty good (very few crappy essays get preserved on glossy paper).

No one is paying me to write this essay about Leonard Cohen—they’d be pretty stupid to do so, since I don’t know anything about Leonard Cohen—but I have that pair of records and he’s the next artist on alphabetical deck. So here we are.

Actually, you know what? Before we get started, I’m going to go ahead and advise you to just skip this piece altogether.

Hear me out. I can’t imagine this is going to be one of my better entries; considering my not knowing anything about the person I’m supposed to be writing about and all, the odds of my somehow summoning literary gold here aren’t particularly strong. Also, Leonard Cohen is a highly respected artist, and based on the listening I’m doing right now, he definitely deserves that respect—I’m on my second spin of Songs from a Room and it is an absolutely beautiful record. But what am I accomplishing by telling you that? You probably already know Songs From a Room is an absolutely beautiful record, and if you don’t, you should totally listen to it right this minute instead of reading anything I might observe about it, because the album is a whole lot better than this essay is going to be. I’ve been down this road before, so I can tell you exactly what’s about to happen here: I’m going to keep prattling on with gibberish just like this and end up embarrassing myself by blowing yet another chance to write something substantial about a substantial artist. I guess I could comment on how much I like the two Cohen songs that were used to bookend the mindfuck of a film Natural Born Killers or something, but what purpose will that serve? There, I commented on it, and biting into those ‘member berries hasn’t magically ignited some spirited dissertation, has it? Look, I’m saying this because I care: I really think you should call it quits on this piece right here and now, before you get in too deep. I’m already doomed, but it’s not too late to save yourself. Run, go, get to the choppah. Fly away, Clarice, fly fly fly. ‘Member?  

Okay, you’ve been duly warned. So if you do decide to continue on, I’m not going to feel terribly bad about wasting your time, especially since I essentially just promised you anything I write from this point forward is going to be a waste of your time. I mean, everything I’ve written so far has also been a waste of your time, but I haven’t written that much yet. And at least the stuff I wrote so far has served a purpose: it cautioned you that everything to come is going to be an even bigger waste of your time. I can’t promise any of the supplemental paragraphs I’m about to compose will be worth even that much, so I really have to advise you to take a moment here and consider your situation carefully. Weighing everything I’ve just told you about my not knowing anything about Leonard Cohen (and, just to be clear, I’m not playfully minimizing that disposition; I honestly don’t know shit about him), along with my stated unambiguous surety that I am about to waste an indefinite amount of your time (you must be familiar with my work by now; it’s totally plausible this thing could end up running 15 pages)—do you really want to read any of more of this? It’s still not too late to back out. Your time investment thus far is minimal. You can just move right along to the next piece (it’s about Coldplay, so I’m sure that essay is going to be way funnier than this one). My feelings won’t be hurt, I promise. I can hardly fault you for not reading this, because there isn’t any reason at all you should read this. Unless you just really enjoy reading these entries in general, but that seems highly unlikely because nobody enjoys reading them—shit, I only enjoy every fifth one or so, and I write the fucking things.

Check it out: usually by this point in a composition, I would be painstakingly rereading what I’ve written so far to make sure I’m off to an okay start, right? But I haven’t done that in this case because I already know everything I’ve written so far is garbage. This piece isn’t going to improve, either. And that’s what I’m really trying to get across to you here: I am woefully ill-equipped to write anything about Leonard Cohen that is as excellent as his music—I just listened to Songs of Love and Hate a couple times, and holy shit, that’s an absolutely beautiful record too. You may assume I’m continuing this obnoxious diatribe because I’m setting you up for some grand gag (granted, it’s a fair guess, because I’ve done that a few times in entries past). But I’m not joking when I say that I’m not joking in this instance. This rambling philological self-fellation is not going to coalesce into something worthwhile; it’s just going to go on and on like this until I decide I’m done fucking with you and then this essay will just sort of… end, without preamble or satisfaction. I’m telling you, if you keep reading this, you are going to be super pissed off when you finish it. You’ll get to the conclusion, and you’ll grumble, “That’s it…? That was stupid.” And you will be right, because that will be it and it will be stupid.

Since that will be transpiring soon, we should probably clarify that at this point, when it does it’s going to be entirely your fault. If you go all the way back to the beginning of this twaddle, you’ll clearly see the very first thing I wrote was, “So, here’s the thing: I don’t know anything about Leonard Cohen.” That was the opening fucking sentence, dude. Seriously, what did you think was going to happen after that? And only a few lines later, I wrote: “I’m going to go ahead and advise you to just skip this piece altogether.” Then came that whole part about how reading this was going to be a total waste of your time, blah blah blah. You can check if you want; it’s all totally in there. I’m sure you didn’t think I’d be reprinting complete sentences you already read—and, you know what, yes, that’s kind of a low blow, I’m realizing now—but after I took the time to explain in detail that this essay would likely end up serving no purpose whatsoever, surely that must have given you pause. I mean, didn’t you think to yourself, “Wait a minute, before I read this essay, is it going to serve some purpose?” As I’ve made abundantly clear, the answer is: No. No, it is not. I was pretty up front about that. In fact, I specifically told you not to read it—“there isn’t any reason at all you should read this”; is that ringing a bell at all? So if you are still reading it, that’s kind of on you, dude. Sure, I could have stopped writing a long time ago and spared you from all of this bullshit, but let’s not get caught up in semantics.

Have you seen the movie Reservoir Dogs? I’m assuming you have, but if you haven’t, you can add that to the list of far more fulfilling things you could be doing right now instead of reading this essay. Anyway, the film is centered around the aftermath of a jewelry store robbery gone horrifically wrong. We don’t actually see the caper take place, but the characters reference it enough along the way for us to get a clear sense of things devolving into a bloodbath after one of the robbers, Mr. Blonde (played by Michael Madsen) shoots numerous people inside the establishment. Is it coming back to you now? Good. There’s a reason I’m bringing this up.

Since Madsen is absent for a lot of the movie, the audience’s understanding of the storyline relies mostly on what the characters played by Steve Buscemi and Harvey Keitel share with us about what has occurred. Their perspective is clear: Mr. Blonde went crazy and started killing people, and that’s why the whole heist went tits up. However, when Madsen finally appears at the warehouse where the bulk of the plot’s action takes place, he presents an entirely different assessment of the exact same incident. It is here that the movie shifts into the subtle employment of a narrative device known as the “Rashomon Effect,” so-named because this formula’s introduction to Western film-goers is commonly credited to the 1950 Akira Kurosawa film Rashomon—a picture which we can assume in hindsight Reservoir Dogs creator Quentin Tarantino was consciously invoking since his filmography has since revealed a heart-on-sleeve fandom for the work of that storied Japanese director (several Tarantino flicks make reference to this allegiance, but his Kill Bill films in particular are at their core unashamed modern reimaginings of Kurosawa’s legendary Samurai epics). I won’t recount the entire plot of Rashomon, since doing so would be superfluous here (as opposed to all of this shit I’m writing about Reservoir Dogs, which is obviously vitally important to this essay about Leonard Cohen). All you really need to know for our purposes is that the crux of the story is a singular event which is assigned completely disparate interpretations by the various people in the film who witness it.  Which is precisely what happens when Michael Madsen makes his entrance.

Now, I’ve seen Reservoir Dogs many times, but not enough times to have the dialogue faithfully memorized; you’ll have to forgive me if I paraphrase a bit here. Essentially, Keitel’s character calls Mr. Blonde a “maniac” or something to that effect, a designation based on Madsen’s character opening fire upon one of the store’s clerks for what Keitel perceives as “no reason at all.” Madsen’s response to this slanted accusation is fascinating. In direct repudiation of his labelling as a “maniac” seconds before, he continues calmly drinking his soda as he amends Keitel’s analysis of the murder by providing a remarkably lucid and utilitarian explanation for the killing: “I told her not to press the alarm, but she did. If she hadn’t done the thing that I told her not to do, then I wouldn’t have shot her.”

It seems we are sharing our own Rashomon moment, my friends. You may feel like your time has been wasted, and it certainly has. But I am not the one who wasted it. That was you. I told you not to read this essay, but you did. If you hadn’t done the thing I told you not to do…  

Mr. Cohen: I am truly sorry. Your music is stunning, and you deserve far better than this.

As for the rest of you: I mean, dude, I fucking told you.

 March 31, 2019

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: You are one of the rare intelligent traditionalist blogs that appreciates high culture of art, music, and aesthetics. I don’ consider myself racist and people can call me an old stick in the mud but I love high culture as it is central to our European identity. I have been concerned how classical music especially concert hall performances are in terminal decline. Do you think this is because diversity killing classical music?

Classical music concerts are in decline. That’s the bad news.

Classical music is thriving. That’s the good news.

Classical music attendance for concert performances have been generally low especially when compared to pre-1945 levels in Europe and the US. It’s also true if sales of CDs etc are an indicator too.

Like you, as a believer in the heritage of tradition of western civilisation I find this deeply troubling. Western classical music is an achievement of high culture and more importantly an integral and unique to the DNA of Western civilisation.   The questions as to why is a tricky one because it’s not just one thing.  Is it the music being performed that’s old hat? Is the audience or the lack of one thereof?

It’s painfully obvious that audiences are not there to support it. Why?

I think part of the blame can be laid at the foot of the producers of classical music concerts. The largest contributors to keeping today's orchestras alive and functioning are usually old, rich, white, conservative people who enjoy their Beethoven and Brahms. They don't care about any music post late 19th century.

Firstly, I would take issue with where they think classical music begins and ends. Classical music is not music trapped in amber for all time. It can and must move forwards. This is why - despite some truly stinkers in 20th Century classical music composition - music composed in the 20th Century is given short thrift and met with sniffy indifference.

The paradox here is that they say there is no demand for such contemporary pieces because the audience isn’t there. But if they don’t show the courage to showcase new works then how will they grow an audience? It’s a sticky wicket to say the least. 

Secondly, in being such stiff shirts, there has been a stunning failure to educate and entertain the next younger generation of the value of classical music. The decline of classical music has been a tragic failure of handing down tradition from one generation to the next. Its root cause has everything to do with the material corruption and spiritual laziness of its own native European people - young and old.

But I don’t want to lay the blame too much on the older generation despite the above criticism. This is because at least they invest money into classical music. The younger generation can’t - because they need to make a living - or won’t - because they are not emotionally invested in it. 

This nicely leads me to another crucial part of my answer.

I think blame can also be laid at the feet of us, the audience.

With each passing generation our Western society is nurturing its own people to be musically illiterate. By that I mean millennials have no real grasp of appreciation of classical music, let alone learning a music instrument or going to attend a classical music concert. Like Latin in school, we don’t teach children how to be musically literate and enjoy the wonders of Peter and the Wolf or Holst’s The Planets as a starting point on a life long journey of cultural enrichment. This enrichment is a unique inheritance of their Western civilisation unlike any other culture or society.

This isn’t an either/or argument i.e. less Taylor Swift and more Schubert. It’s a false choice.

Why limit your musical palate?

Is diversity the reason for decline of classical music?

No. Not in the way you might think.

In my humble opinion the decline of classical music in the concert hall has precious little to do with the controversial topic of diversity. Diversity is not the cause of it but a symptom of it. 

Today's classical orchestras are quite diverse. Classical music will always be considered as stuffy museum music by the general population. Being sensitive to diversity of today's classical composers won't fix things.

Any classical composer writing music these days, regardless of ethnicity, gender or skin colour, is doomed to failure because of the economics of the business. So giving preference to today's composers by gender, skin colour or ethnicity won't help revive it.

Diversity within orchestras is wonderful - and I have seen some virtuoso performers across the globe, especially in Japan and China where they have a genuine love for classical music which is inspiring to witness. But ‘diversity’ within classical music itself is muddle headed.

'Diversity' is a concern of disintegrating societies in malaise that have lost contact with their heritage and identity.

The honest truth is that Western classical music was the creation of aristocratic Europe. It should not be forced into something it isn't. The foundation of classical music was created by White, European, males of a Christian background - after all classical music began in the church.

Without taking a thing away from some very talented and wondrously creative African, Asian and female composers, the music simply didn't include Africa and Asia - or America, for that matter! - as part of its origins.

It would be as if one were to insist that any forum that highlights the many fantastic forms of American music that was started by African-American people - Gospel, Ragtime, Jazz, Blues, Rock, Hip-Hop, Rap - should have to include a fair sampling of non-Blacks that contributed. 

As for the dying of classical music, it is not dead or even on life support.

It has simply moved, though, from the church to the concert hall to electronic and digital media.

As far back as the 1960s, the pianist, Glenn Gould stopped touring and began recording exclusively in the studio. His final recording from the 1980s included his conducting debut (Wagner's "Siegfried Idyll"), and if not for his untimely death, his next step was to record piano concertos with himself as both conductor and soloist; able to use technology for the purpose of editing and dubbing every aspect to his own specifications.

People will continue to attend concerts. I try to attend when I can. Indeed not too far from my place of work I can attend lunch time recitals and concerts in an old church and it’s heavenly to feel uplifted to such sonorous heights.

But such is the pace of modern life it’s not always possible. But my thirst for live classical music means, like for many others, the technology has made it so much easier to enjoy what ever music you like without being economically and geographically inconvenienced.

I look at films (another love of mine) and accept that even this most modern of mediums is changing with the viewing habits of people through digital online technology. Going to the cinema is really going to see big blockbusters and watching your artsy niche films increasingly on laptops and phones through streaming services simply because of economics of the film industry.

To me not watching a film - any film - on the big screen loses not just the romance of the occasion but also the bonding of diverse people into one room.  Going to the cinema was like a social glue to bond community of people who lived in the shared neighbourhood. It’s also changed the nature of film itself in the way we tell stories - think of the decline of episodic television to more serial arc based stories to - what we have now - binge watching series in one sitting.

Likewise the challenge for classical music is learning how to adapt with the times without compromising the rich tradition it carries....too much. How it continues to meet that challenge will be fascinating to watch.

Thanks for your question

[zzazztrainer]

my acetate cel materials test sheet. took 3 hours to paint the colors on, so hopefully that gets faster (granted, it does have 4 faces on it) but i definitely wish i'd put more time into making the test drawings be a little more... on model.

i used grafix 8.5 x 11 acetate sheets (about 25 cents a sheet where i bought it) (i went for printer sheet sized cause it's the size of my scanner's scanning bed.) All the actual lineart is done with a technical pen with koh-i-noor acetate ink in it. i tested all my regular liners and stuff (pentel pocket brush pen, sakura pigma microns and brush version, white gel pens, sharpies) just to see if i was going overkill by buying a 22$ pen and 7$ ink i'll use Only For This and nope, everything else wipes off readily except regular sharpie, which is unfortunately just not opaque enough for lineart. (weirdly, the sharpie liner wiped off so completely it's just a smudge) Although i did the white highlights in gel pen anyway, cause it's easy and a little bit more stable than some of the regular liner's inks

Even the special acetate ink is a little fragile and takes a while to dry. Note the smudges on the upper-left drawing, which i inked first. the acrylic is just cheap-ish DecoArt brand i got in a set because it had close-enough colors for most of ragged's design, but if i continue Seriously i might invest in 10$ a pot to get vinyl paints, cause although only one brand out there now still labels it as specifically animation paint (toon tones) afaict most vinyl paint should be the same thing. at least for painting cels in western animation

here are some things i've learned about the medium from this:

it's freaky how much it looks like digital art in person. the colors are so impossibly flat and smooth, which you don't think about much when looking at old animation because it has the texture of the film grain on it

harder to color in the lines than you think. especially when your colors cover up the lines. probably gonna have to try to draw a little bigger. a good reason for that stylistic choice of having thicker outlines just for the outer edges though, i couldn't afford a second technical pen right now sooooo i'll just have to git gud

you Really gotta blob on the paint. this could be from getting cheap acrylics but footage i've seen of old production suggests that's just how it is. a softer brush was better for it (i think it was a cheapo watercolor brush?) but i could only use that for fairly big areas cause it splayed out wider

it seems like the acrylic faintly warped the acetate, i think from the acrylic shrinking as it dries. in general, the cel got pretty wibbly from just handling it. Later productions did use polyester instead of acetate and perhaps that is less affected, but i don't think i feel a need to have archival quality materials, at least not when i'm just experimenting and am going to digitally composite my animation anyway. (and acetate was cheaper than Dura-Lar)

gonna have to solve the shadows it casts in the scanner, even when the lid is pressing it down. it's a pretty cool-looking effect for just an image, but it's gonna be annoying in the video editing stage (and the smooth flat colors make it super obvious to me that my scanner's colors are really off, i still had to edit this but didn't bother making it totally irl accurate)

taking out the light table for this was a pretty good idea even though i wasn't animating, cause it made it real easy to check for missed or thin spots on the paint

cotton gloves to avoid fingerprints made me feel like a Cool Serious Artist, and then i didn't have to scrub paint off my fingers afterwards

i feel like i really Get something about why old animation looked A Certain Way that i didn't understand just from reading about it, but can't put it succinctly into words. aside from that and the fun of Nerdiness, research and bragging rights i'm not sure i'd suggest animating like this when digital tools are available, cause once you put it on a screen it just looks like digital art anyway

[hypeathon]

RWBY - Volume 6, Chapter 2 Production Analysis

Vol 6, Ch 1 Production Analysis

It’s very safe to say that between the last production analysis post and every other response and feedback from the fan base in every corner of the internet, the volume 6 RWBY premiere started on an overwhelmingly high note. A lot of notes and criticisms (some more helpful than others) were taken to heart by Kerry Shawcross, Miles Luna and the rest of the production staff and to great effect through a combination of action scenes and comedic character acting. For the chapter that follows, aspects of the production have been applied to arguably just as great of a effect but for different reasons due to the admittedly heavy story beats provided. Let’s dive into all of that.

We can start with one part of Cinder’s scene in the beginning: effects related to water and rain. The first thing to note is the sheen on Cinder’s hair. It’s very fascinating because of how unclear it is as to whether this has anything to do with a new simulation in some plug-in tool or if it’s a small effect done in post-production or something else done together. Could it be something similar to how the process for this bit in episode 7 of season 1 of RWBY Chibi was done or something different is honestly hard to say.

The other effect to touch on is rain. Whether or not this is due to technical limitations or creative choices (or lack thereof), rainy weather started to occasionally be in the show since volume 4 when CRWBY primarily used the Autodesk Maya software as their animation tool. Since then, interactions between the character and environment models and rain have varied slightly such as ripples being faintly seen on raindrops and footsteps. However, this chapter made rain felt more “defined” so-to-speak. Water ripples are more visible and small splashes have appeared for the first time. Unlike the sheen on Cinder’s hair, these instances can more safely be presumed as having been done by the VFX team or Compositing department. What pops-to-mind about all of this is something mentioned in the previous production analysis post, that being the new 2-D FX artist position. When using the term “defined” to describe the rain effects, what this is referring to is how flat they look. This is similar to the smoke and wind effects already seen in the show in latter volumes which were presented specifically to help RWBY further resemble various anime, the medium RWBY is heavily-inspired by:

“The hardest parts were figuring out what kind of effect we wanted. We had a wind effect which drawing air can be a little hard to figure out. I spent a lot of time watching anime and looking at different ways in which people had drawn air and trying to come up with something that would resemble 2-D but have a very 3-D feel to it. We also had some fireballs that had to be developed from scratch that required not only coming up with the base of it, but also with some anime-esque flares so that was kind of neat to explore.”

- Jeff Yohn, VFX Artist, CRWBY Behind the Episode Season 1 - Anima Skies Fight.

It’s possible that Myke Chapman, as the 2-D FX Artist may have had something to do with this in particular. The push to make RWBY feel like an anime but in 3-D in as many appropriate ways as possible is definitely an admirable goal. There was a small concern regarding the possibility of the same visual effects, 2-D or 3-D, becoming reused a bit too frequently since not all effects in anime look the same and that’s largely to do with the animator in charge of cuts. However, this concern has been covered but more on that later.

Next is the setting everyone loves, the Mistral house. In all seriousness, It’s no secret that most of the fandom have expressed frustrations with this setting to some degree, even Nora made a tongue-in-cheek comment about it. But this scene is at least worth comparing to previous ones in the same setting throughout volume 5. The reason has to do with the character models. One big change made to volume 6′s overall aesthetic was the choice of overall lighting, being brighter compared to volume 5′s softer, warmer look. But a smaller change made were the inclusion of more line art and shading on certain physical features of most characters. When comparing between the same characters in the same setting, certain characters like Jaune and Qrow will have lines to form the collarbone unlike the last couple of volumes while other characters like Yang and Oscar/Ozpin have shading the present the folds in parts on their tops not previously seen. Even Weiss when looking back at the previous chapter will have a bit of shading on the rib cage area of her clothing to hell sell how tight they are.

This is not the first time this sort of thing has been done in RWBY as this was done to more of a much greater degree in volumes 2 & 3 when Poser was the primary animation software. The differences being that now there’s likely more of a simulation applied for the shading as oppose to being directly painted on to the models in earlier volumes. As a result, the line art for the physical features are applied more subtly. That’s the key word here, “subtly”. They are used just enough to define physical traits but not so much so that they risk coming off as distracting. When line work on characters were more heavily applied in volumes 2 & 3, the results varied. Sometimes they worked out okay while other times the line work were weird and confusing regarding how the bone and muscle structure even worked. To get a good idea of how much line work, shading, and overall form can make a difference in character design, 2-D or 3-D, Anime Ajay made a comparison of the character designs of Broly for the Dragon Ball Super film and in various Dragon Ball projects in latter years. I can only imagine how much of a broken record I am being for using Anime Ajay’s videos as go-to means of illustrating some points, but his insight on anime production and design and animation principles are worth paying mind to whether one cares for the Dragon Ball franchise or not.

Next are a couple of other things within the house scene, first being the relic. Many fans questioned and speculated why the artifact changed size from scene-to-scene and it’s through the shot of Ozpin how this happens. The seamless size adjustment is not at all bad, but the way handle grew bigger on Ozpin’s hand made it a bit too seamless. Perhaps if one close-up shot of the handle was shown first to indicate how Ozpin needed to adjust the way he held on to the relic and then followed with the original medium shot of the relic as a whole would have helped the size change would’ve been a bit better. But this is all just a nitpick. The other thing to touch on in the scene is Nora’s brief manic moment. There’s not a whole lot to say on it since such scenes have been done before with Nora’s character to great effect, but this probably most crazed version seen yet. The timing on this one is much more rapid than in previous instances with split-second cutting between characters, spontaneous reactions, smears in the animation, the one extreme close-up shot of Nora’s eyes and the tea kettle sound effect just cranks up the comedic nature. What probably sells it though is how Ren and Ozpin’s calm and easy-going personalities serve as the perfect juxtaposition to help immediately bring down high energy. I have no idea who animated the scene and I can’t say much about the editing besides the fact that Connor Pickens is still the lead editor despite also being a co-director. But whatever the case behind-the-scenes, the humor was perfect here.

With all of that said, here comes one of the biggest highlights of the episode in terms of breaking down the presentation and speculating the production. What most fans talked about this episode were the animation and Jinn’s design more than anything else. Both cases are very much worth paying mind to. The snowy scene where everyone’s hair and clothes flowed strongly in response to the wind and much of the character acting was top-notch, especially since Asha Bishi was confirmed to have animated it (her knack for creating expression through animal ears and other traits I’ve mentioned before here). And Jinn’s design is definitely otherworldly in terms of how she’s animated and the particle effects done on her model. However, what made this episode were the storyboards.

There are many resources about the production of RWBY throughout the volumes. In terms of learning about the various animators, the ending credits in each volume are a great starting point and from there, blu-ray audio commentary tracks, animator demo reels, tweets, convention panels and production diary videos are all constructive ways to familiarize oneself with the animation styles. It’s the main reason I managed to make the Animators Spotlight series of post in the first place. However, finding the same quantity information from other departments is scarce in comparison and thus a more challenging task. It’s one thing to at least learn the general process behind how a stage in the show’s production is approached in a given volume. But it’s a whole other thing entirely to pinpoint who exactly is responsible for a certain trick in the visual effects or an intricate-looking prop in an environment design. The same problem can especially apply to the storyboards and camera layouts since both departments share some of the same people but one person working on the boards in a scene may not necessarily also be doing the layouts in that same scene. It’s also hard to indicate when one the task of boards change from one person to another in a given chapter. Unlike storyboard artists in anime which are usually assigned to one person per episode, making it easier to indicate the choices in visual direction and cinematography, the number of artists assigned to board an episode of RWBY have varied between 2-6 people. Without much evidence to indicate who exactly did which parts of the storyboards, it can be near impossible to tell the visual languages different artists have brought into the show.

There is one exception however. One storyboard and camera layout artist that has been around in RWBY’s production since volume 3 contributed a great quantity to the show and there’s much evidence out there to suggest it. That person is Rachel Doda, whose name has been referred to in previous posts. Through most of the same sources mentioned earlier to learn about which cuts different animators have done, there is quite a bit of confirmation as to which scenes she provided storyboards or camera layouts for. The aftermath of Shion village, Qrow and Raven’s talk at the tavern at Higanbana, Weiss in her father’s office, Yang confronting the bandits, the entire Weiss character short, the volume 4 opening, Tyrian’s breakdown moment and Oscar vs Leo, all to name a few have been confirmed to be handled by her through either storyboards or camera layouts. Between these scenes and the patterns seen in them, it’s possible that she did the boards and/or layout for the snow scene in this chapter of volume 6.

Certain visual techniques can be seen between these examples alone, one of which were actually confirmed from Rachel’s mouth herself via episode 11 of RWBY Rewind for volume 5:

“I work as a story and layout artist and in particular for this episode, I was a final camera artist. So what you’re seeing right now is the animatic with storyboards done by Kevin Harger of this little moment that happens in the episode where Oscar goes up against Leo. Then after it goes into animatic, it goes into pre-layout and animation and what was cool about this moment was this was a moment where we had to be collaborative with the animator and with camera.

I got the animator stuff (animator was John Yang) and I looked at it and compared it to the boards and I thought, “this is the first time I believe that we get to see Oscar use Ozpin’s cane in combat!” So for me, I was like, “let’s show off the cane as much as we can.” I’m a sucker for stuff that comes up into the foreground a lot and that shot where he raises it (the cane) right into the foreground, I like really resonated with that because to me that was like, “oh, it’s like fencing!” Or in particular, like epee. I want that to be a huge focus so, depending on where the camera goes, it’s like “hey, I want to lead your eye from one point to the other.”

I grew up with anime a lot when I was a kid, so seeing that stuff come to life is amazing.”

Having the viewer’s eye be drawn to a certain object closer to the camera can be seen in various shots she did boards or layouts for. Sometimes it’s to make the shot dynamic while other times is to provide a sense of staging or blocking. Certain other techniques that have been seen in her boards are rotation shots and panning shots that put a character in the background in focus. There are also long shots where the camera pans from a much farther distance to indicate the different kinds of relationships between characters or who is more dominant and submissive respectively or which characters are otherwise the focus of the scene.

Again, the long-winded point behind studying Rachel Doda’s approaches within her line of work in particular is to help compare to the snow scene with the main cast this chapter. It’s all to be on the same page in order to speculate how some of the shots may have come from her. Instances such as Ruby looking at the relic in the foreground or this shot where it aptly shows how Ozpin is pressured to defend himself against the members of Team RWBY through the use of height in the terrain can be compared to some of her other faraway panning shots. Of course it follows with a more high angle shot where Yang, Weiss and Blake are framed to surround Ozpin as he further attempts to defend himself. Then there’s one instance where the camera pans to showing Ruby possessing the relic and it follows with a clever shot of Ozpin’s hand being lowered after his arguments were questioned. Next is Oscar’s hand towards the camera as he tries to restrain Ozpin which is similar to the types of foreground-focused shots quoted from Rachel that she has done before. And then there are the moments of hair and clothing flowing in the wind for dramatic effect. In the first instance where Ozpin talked about Leo, the comparison can be made to Qrow telling Raven why it’s important to be told of the Spring Maiden’s whereabouts as a visually-timed period to their sentences. Now there is a strong possibility that all of this speculation could be way off and Kevin Harger, Cassidy Stone, or Veronica Valencia could have done the boards for this snow scene or even the next one. Whatever the case, hopefully, this will at the very least further entice food-for-thought and discussions regarding the various techniques in visual direction and who may be responsible for what.

Moving on, this would be a good time to talk about something rarely ever mentioned in any of these RWBY production posts before: voice acting. By now, many fans have been made aware of the fact that more and more of the ensemble cast in the show have been voiced by talent who spent their careers dubbing anime in Dallas or Houston Texas via titles from Funimation or Sentai Filmworks. What not as many people may be aware of though is how remarkable for casting choices like this to still happen given the current anime dubbing climate. Since the success of Space Dandy on the Toonami programming block on Adult Swim, Funimation started doing “broadcast dubs” or now called “simuldubs.” This practice is a similar but more time crunch approach to simulcasts where the episodes are provided from whatever licensing companies in Japan to premiere an anime dubbed within either a few weeks or some cases like My Hero Academia and Re:Tokyo Ghoul, the same day. This same practice recently started earlier in 2018 with Sentai Filmworks and HiDive under the name “dubcasts”. Whatever the name, it has made for stressful scheduling on voice directors, script writers, voice actors, and engineers and has led to sometimes cases of voice actors initially cast to not being able to do a part due to being sick or other matters.

In the case of My Hero Academia’s voice director and the voice of Momo Yayorozu, Colleen Clinkenbeard, not only is the scheduling especially tight, but when she started voice casting and dubbing the movie in July, she had to give the responsibility of dubbing the rest of season 3 to Clifford Chapin, the voice of Bakugo and Shay D. Mann from RWBY, to name a couple of his roles. Similarly, another voice actress named Luci Christian, who voices Ochako Uraraka from My Hero Academia, also does quite a bit of voice acting between Funimation and Sentai Filmworks and is also involved in various simuldubs and dubcasts. So for both of them to manage to record the voices of Jinn and Little Miss Malachite respectively in this chapter is astonishing to say the least. Casting of anime dub voice actors in the show started since volume 3 and went full force in volume 4 when Marissa Lenti of Sound Cadence studios started providing additional casting. And it has definitely brought the attention of those who have played a part such as Cherami Leigh as Ilia Amitola and those who want to play a part like Cristina Vee. But back in 2016, same-day simuldubs had not yet been done since Space Dandy and only a lot more shows have gotten that close scheduling treatment since then.

Lastly, there’s the scene that ends the episode to breakdown. More striking shots of the stance and side between characters were definitely well-framed in this last segment. But this is also a good time to revisit the matter of visual effects and compositing. The smoke effect when the tower and props appeared in a white void helped address the minor concern brought up earlier about whether the VFX team would resort to using the same kind of look for certain effects. Where smoke has generally been presented to be more cel-shaded in latter volumes, here the smoke emitted from Jinn is a lot more wispy and grainy. This is to help further indicate how the overall post-production process requires just as much creative input as it does technical. And then there’s Salem herself. Her surprise reveal definitely left an impact on viewers but it also served as an example of a callback to the shot that revealed her current design. One example is more stoic and menacing while the other is more innocent and melancholic. This is far from the first visual callback in the show as Cinder stabbing Weiss in chapter 11 of volume 5 was another instance as explained by Rachel Doda in the same RWBY Rewind episode quoted earlier:

“So for storyboards, what we’ll do is we’ll go in and talk with the director and we’ll see what their vision is and what they want, we’ll give them options, we’ll give them thumbnails. Sometimes we’re given enough freedom where we’re like, “oh we can just do whatever we want and then come back to the director”. In this case, I believe Kerry was very specific about what he wanted for this moment. And for me personally, looking at this, you get a bunch of callbacks to Pyrrha’s death. But you also get a callback to Amber’s.”

And that is the end of chapter 2′s production analysis. The action was definitely absent this episode, but that is not at all a bad thing. The cinematography and character expressions this episode were the definitely what helped make the story as engaging as it was for fans, with staging as the primary means to create tension and rift between Ozpin and literally everyone else. The vfx and compositing also played quite a secondary role, specifically with Jinn’s character and her overall presence in the story. And of course, the contribution of the Dallas voice acting talent pool continues to be a pleasant treat, despite tighter schedules due to the growth of simuldubs. With the episode setting up what may potentially be a hefty backstory, it’ll be interesting to see what creative and technical choices are to be shown in chapter 3.

[frederator-studios]

Elise Simard is an animation director and homemade special effects expert with a style all her own. In the tradition of the avant-garde, her films don’t tell a single linear story; rather, they evoke the feelings of many stories, happening all at once, and all around us. Soon we’ll be able to experience her vision literally all around us, as she ventures into VR filmmaking. I hope you appreciate “Opening Hours” above, and her other films—“Breakfast” is the most introspective 2 minutes you’ll have all week. Elise has a wonderful ability to see the artistry in the ordinary, a knack that we can all aspire to. And beyond her talents, she’s a great person. Enjoy!

What can you tell us about ‘Opening Hours’?

It’s inspired by Jarry Park in Montreal; all the little lives that live and visit there. The park is big enough for many different energies to co-exist. It holds one of my favorite swimming pools in Montreal—I was inspired to explore what it’d be like if the pool had an occult, mysterious power. The goal was to open these different pockets of atmospheres, bringing people from one place to another without a traditional story.

Where did you study animation?

I went to Concordia University in Montreal to get a Bachelor’s of Fine Arts. I focused on design for two years, but fell in love with film animation, and began taking as many classes in it as I could. I was drawn into the animation program particularly because we were encouraged to be experimental. My first student film was even in 16mm!

Vintage! Why do you think animation was your calling?

I’ve always seen things from a cinematic angle, like viewing the world in shots and scenes. I’m excited by little things that inspire stories in me. At first, I was the atypical animation student in my class - I didn’t draw! It was only once I entered the program that I learned how to do so.

Whoa! So what'd you use to animate, before you had sweet drawing skills?

I used lots of cut-outs and raw materials - I still do! My first films, I drew on or around little pieces of tape and wood. I layered materials then photographed them, creating images just for the lens. And I played with how light draws out textures, which is still a focus in my work. With lighting, I can create a library of special effects, all self-generated.

What are some of your techniques?

There’s compositing, which lets me create my own computer graphics. And photographic compositing: exposing part of an image, covering it up, then exposing it again. Optical printing, as well. “Afloat at Dawn” demonstrates the effect of these techniques with lighting and texture. I shot on film for a long time before transitioning to digital.

What motivated that change from film to digital?

I grew curious about the potential of using new technologies to create. I actually just began a Master’s program for 3D animation a few months ago. I’m experimenting with VR especially. I’m still learning the basics, playing with the software and cameras.

That’s awesome. What do you imagine doing with VR?

I’m exploring its potential to create textures and luminous effects. I’m very excited about where it might go! I’m attracted to texture as a tool for storytelling, to evoke different emotional states. It’s difficult for me to describe exactly what I’m going for with VR… especially as I don’t yet know myself! It’s a new challenge.

Let’s talk motifs in your films, namely one: bears. What draws you to them?

Hmm, I’ve never really thought about that! They do show up quite a bit. I suppose because I prefer a subject barely moving at all, and very subtle movements. And I imagine bears as being very languid, so they inspire that kind of light motion for me. I suppose that’s why I’m drawn to them.

It’s funny, just yesterday I found the first thing that I ever animated in school: a bear walking! I’m doing tests on it in VR now, and it crackles, it’s so textured. It’s acetate, plastic, and the ink is 10 years old: chipped, yellowed, embedded with bits of dust. It’s a lovely discovery.

I love your ‘tiny musical’ “Breakfast”; what’s the story behind it?

I wrote the song in university. When I got the chance to spend two months at the Aberystwyth Arts Centre in Wales making a film, I had to choose a project very quickly. So I decided to record the song, with the lovely Clara Ortiz Marier singing. The film stemmed from the song. It was lightweight animation—everything I needed to create the film was in my suitcase. 

Where does sound usually come into your process?

Sound is very important in my work. I usually start with sound, then fine tune it to what I see in my head. Process-wise, I’m drawn to technical challenges and using formal elements, like sound, to evoke feelings and moods. I try to be as intuitive as possible in the way that I sculpt story.

Your work is avant-garde; what are your thoughts on narratives?

I’m so bored when I’m locked into a narrative! I use it as a starting point. For example, “Beautiful Like Elsewhere” is a scifi film, written with a clear narrative. But in creating the film, I backed up—I wanted to evoke a sense that you are viewing this story from another dimension. A more lyrical, visceral experience. Part of that is editing from the gut, rather than editing to a script.

How did your fascination with lighting come about?

As a child I played with mirrors a lot. I loved seeing how light reflected off of them, and how it changed when I altered the angle or amount. I would sit with mirrors in dark closets, experimenting. My Grandma had crystals - a whole basket of them - and I’d shine light through them to reflect on the walls. I suppose it makes sense that I’ve become an artist now! Although for the longest time, I was considering paths deemed more ‘practical’.

Was your family skeptical when you chose to study art?

My mother actually told me to do it. I didn’t care for what I was pursuing, and one day she said to me, “You know, art is what you love to do. Not everything needs to be hard. Why don’t you study it?” I’m lucky; my family was always encouraging.

Do you have a favorite among your films?

My latest film is always my favorite. So right now, it’s “Beautiful Like Elsewhere”.

As part of the NFB, you collaborate with other filmmakers often. How is that experience?

Yes, I’ve worked for other artists a lot, and I’ve been very fortunate—everyone that I’ve worked with has been open to my ideas and creations. And they’ve opened up their processes to me. I’ve learned from everyone with whom I’ve collaborated.

Who are your biggest inspirations?

Lately, I’ve been inspired by the book Thought-Forms by Annie Besant and C.W. Leadbeater; it was created at the turn of the 20th century, and inspired the making of this magical bum. I’m very interested in transforming sex into lyrical and immersive forms right now, and this is part of a 3D experiment I’m currently undertaking.

I deeply admire Agnes Varda; her warmth, presence, and audacity are so inspiring. Even more so now that I am entering this new and wide open field of VR and emerging tech. There are qualities of her work that I’d love to see translated into VR. I’m not sure how it all relates yet, but I’m keeping an open mind.

Thank you for sharing your work with me Elise! Best of luck on all of your projects. I can’t wait to see where your VR ventures take you, and the medium as a whole. It’s good to know there are artists ensuring that it won’t just be “a toy” after all!

- Cooper

[mollzflipsidefmp]

Project evaluation

My flipside theme was changeable/constant, and I am interested in it, because I love to explore how decisions you make without even thinking impact your life. I like to link this to games because I like to see life as one massive gamble. Choices in day to day life we don’t even think about could impact something that happens or would have happened if we chose something else.

For my project, three main artists who influenced my art were Jamie Hewlett, as  he helped me to come to terms with how to draw cartoonish but still in my own style. His work really pushed my motivation as well as allowing me to enjoy his own work whilst researching. Here are some examples of his work:

The second artist who mainly influenced my work was the actual d&d official character designer artists. There are more than one but they all work together under their official title to make the official faces for the critical role and official d&d games and podcasts. Their work really influenced me with the species accurate cultural attire as well as common features and colour pallets/ personalities to be shown off in their pieces. Some examples of their work:

   My final main artist inspiration for my artwork in the project is the artist @/catneylang on Instagram. Their an independent graphic designer and their  art concentrates on very detailed fan art of one of my favourite shows of all time (Jojos bizarre adventure) as well as other independent works. Their art was an inspiration to me through the project, mainly because they helped me figure out light and dark colour theory and where the highlights should be on the clothing etc. Here are some of the examples of their work;

                                                 Wider world research I took from a well-known d&d podcast named Critical Role. They are basically a bunch of famous voice actors who voiced their own campaign and uploaded it and all the episodes to YouTube for free for people like me to listen in/ watch to enjoy. The campaigns have been going on every week for about three years so it is a nice thing to listen into every week especially when doing independent work. I also used this to listen to when completing my FMP especially the practice work. This counts as wider world research, because I got to look into the legislation they had to use for YouTube as well as how they used their own voices depending on what the character was doing and their mood to pull off and correctly push forward how they were feeling in the situation. I also used C.R to research what goes into the podcast making and found out it takes at least ten hours per episode to film, edit and upload with effects every week to YouTube.

My concept for my FMP is making character and monster art / mock ups for a podcast game of d&d. I picked to revolve my changeable/constant theme around the game because it relies on dice play and sleight of hand so just like I explained with how I see life being changeable/constant it is a massive gamble of a game.

At the start of the project, I was just experimenting with turning traditional drawings into Photoshop stamps and making digital art based on changeable/constant. I mainly used pen, pencil and then my drawing app Krita on my laptop throughout this project. Right at the start I learned how to make a lot of mixed media boards outside of my FMP however it did help me to push me to where I wanted to be to start my character design. I didn’t exactly learn anything new in this project apart from how to make Photoshop brushes/ stamps.

Examples of my stamp / brush experiments ^

 This outcome feels the most successful to me, because it has all of my characters in it and I was really happy with the lighting and composition of all the characters. Before this piece, I was really dodgy with lighting and colour contrasts with in my works but after this I am feeling much more educated on how to do it and also a lot more relieved.  If I could change one thing now looking back on that one piece it would be the title more central as it bugs me that it’s a tad off due to Cunnuroz’s shining staff. Other than that I am sincerely happy with it.

For my end of year show if we had one, I was going to present my outcomes as A3, a4 and 1800px by 1800px size papers in 3 large A1 frames. I uploaded the mock up above to show how I would present them. I am very pleased with my outcomes, and from my initial idea sketches of my characters to their refined painting I am very pleased and have learned to trust the process that it will all look good in the end so not to rush.  Below is an initial sketch and coloured sketch sheet for one of my first characters that I made and even these I am proud of for trusting my instincts especially for the colours.

If I was to display my work anywhere in the world, I would like it to get displayed on billboards in London or around Camden Market. I would like them to get displayed here, because I feel like they would get a lot of attention for being so different and bold. To describe my outcomes I would use bold, bright, colourful, creative, digital, dedicated, detailed, cherished, proficient and in depth. 

If I needed a soundtrack or song to go with my artwork I would use the song; Fall of the Magister. I would use this song because it is a common beautiful tavern song and I can imagine it getting played in a local tavern in game.

Per week I reckon I spent at least 30 hours on my outcomes averaging about 3-4 hours per piece. At home I work in my room at my desk.

  1)                       Initial idea generations à 2) initial character sketches à 3) character concept arts à 4) group outcomes.

[loboglobalmedia]

CAN YAMAN & DEMET ÖZDEMIR

(This is a translation of the original note written in Spanish)

AN INSTALLED FORMULA

It is easy for people who achieve a good combination in their joint work, put together a FORMULA, install it and position it. And when that FORMULA is the architect of total success, disintegrating that partnership that was the focus of public appreciation is a difficult task. It is not impossible, of course not, but it will require very careful analysis of what strategy to carry out so that both regain their identity and the public values them individually. We see it followed in the Political FORMULAS, which are put together and disarmed thanks to teams of strategy advisors that will make you choose them again.

THE CANDEM & CANEM FORMULA   The same is true in the artistic medium, we were spectators of the fantastic FORMULA composed by Can Yaman & Demet Özdemir, the protagonists of Erkenci Kuş. In this family series, suitable for all audiences, careful in what they 'showed', we were convinced that their love pierced the screen. A perfect and unbeatable chemical composition, which was awarded and recognized in Turkey as abroad winning thousands of fans around the world. And if you also tell the information and rumors that this love was still off set, let me tell you that you will need a lot of strength to lift the anchor and set sail for a new destination or project. But, what happens when the series ends and the protagonists must take a new job? How can we get the audience to agree to see them with a new partner without "attacking" against the previous FORMULA that has been tattooed on the viewer's heart? It will be a challenge for producers, marketing experts and advertisers to convince the public of that acceptance in a new story, the goal of which will be no more or less than to install a new FORMULA.   FIRST THE LADIES The first to try to break the paradigm was Demet Özdemir, who taking the opposite path to romantic comedy, stars today, with the talent that we are accustomed to ¨Doğduğun Ev Kaderindir ¨ (the house where you were born), a true drama, by the hand of Ibrahim Çelikkol. Why him? Let us begin by highlighting that he is a very dear, talented and experienced Turkish actor.  But, from our point of view, we understand that there was an essential component in the search for the profile that is related to the personal life of the actor: low profile, married and with family.  Are you surprised? Not to us, because that detail that does not seem important will be the unconscious guarantee of the acceptance sought.  Even the actor who appears as her partner in the first chapter meets the same requirements. Chance? No. On Demet's part, it was also key to keep their private life out of exposure, of course, those of us who know the media business, we know what happens in the face of a lack of information, but this is what we'll talk about later. Even a minor detail that the press has installed, at the time of ending Erkenci Kuş, the belief that Demet had fought with Can Yaman and that not only did she not want to know more about him, but also that she was in relationship with the success they did together. This supposed dissociation undoubtedly favored the welcome to the new FORMULA.  And if they put even more inventive and creativity into this, they could even convince us that the actress had hired a company to remove from the internet search engines any trace that the relationship affectionately with Can Yaman. How lucky that many of us read the news wisely and don't believe everything they postǃ THE FORMULA Demet & Ibrahim was accepted, perhaps not with the absolute fanaticism that the CANDEM & CANEM FORMULA. We can interpret that this is due to several reasons, firstly Can & Demet had left the rod very high at the level "LEGENDARYDUO", what they transmitted together was really magical. Second, the new story doesn't give rise to moments that show the madness of two lovers who seek each other with soul and life until their eyes connect and sparks emerge like fireworks. We should also keep in mind that the audience that viewers of a romantic comedy like Erkenci Kuş differs from that of the drama, because in the first we will be able to find children and teenagers that catch them a romantic and funny story, even more so when it is starring young influencers. Similarly, the number of older people who prefer to abstract themselves from a reality with drops of sadness, with a story that invites you to laugh and dream, is superior.   IT'S CAN YAMAN'S TURN After serving in his country and spending time in "boxes", came a project that caught Can's attention and the time to embark on the adventure bound for BayYanış (Mr. Incorrect) has arrived. Preparing the ground for what is to come, Can shared images of his life showing mostly alone or with his mother, without fans or situations where he could see him with some company. Prior to this enthusiasm and expectation, some "brains" have analyzed how to put together a new FORMULA.  What did they choose Özge Gürel?  But hadn't the press told that no one wanted to work with him again? Maybe you feel cheated, it's not for less, so the press works, how lucky you didn't believe them againǃ The chosen profile, arguably, is that 'kill two birds with one stone'. A safe bet, hand in hand with this talented, versatile and beautiful actress with whom Can has already shared the lead in "Donulay". Both Özge and Can are very much loved abroad, especially in Italy and Spain, which allows us to project the commercialization of the series outside Turkey. And of course, there was no shortage of the ingredient we suggest: Özge has been in a couple for many years with a talented, attractive and well-known actor, while keeping both a low profile, in a relationship that we might call "sweet, durable and pastel color". Will we let Özge kiss Can? Of course!   THE PRESS - That Partner / Evil Needed Always remember that the press will collaborate in the promotion of the actors, their series and illuminate them with the most powerful focus to capture everyone's gaze, but this is not free. In exchange for this 'service' they will need a kind of "coima", said in other words, they will want to be part of the business, of that brightness that they themselves helped to illuminate (and that they almost believe that the actor owes them their popularity). How will they do that? Do you think a magazine sells because the headline announces who the actor was inspired to develop his new character? No, let's be fooled. The press will need as currency PRIVATE LIFE INFORMATION, this is non-negotiable. Some Hollywood actors, experienced in the subject (who have already gone through all kinds of situations), usually generate their own rumors and the press operators will deal with the distribution. They will eventually deny them, but in the meantime, the magazines achieved the expected sales. Romances, acquisitions, investments, how much they earn, who they're fighting, what they did on their vacation, how much they spent, who they spent the night before, and even what religion they're dabbling into to find inner peace. Do you understand how it works? Now, what happens when this balance ¨I give you – you give me" breaks? Well, you as a faithful follower of Can and Demet witnessed many slander, remember? Can and Demet long to keep their private life in a safe under 7 keys and with exclusive access through their fingerprint. They will debunk, deny, hide, omit, distract, and if necessary lie to keep their eyes to another place. Occasionally they share a photo of their pets, some language they learn, a dance and how they are generous kids, some solidarity action that help spread.  But this for the press, it's not enough, they can entertain them only for a few hours. Then, in the face of this 'unbalance' they are "forced" to invent the famous rumors of courtships, fights and situations that infuriate the fans. How sad we get when we read the opinion of many Turkish ladies prejudging Demet for the number of boyfriends attributed to him by the press. Or when many claim that Can and Demet hate each other. Please don't be ridiculous! Hate is not part of these kids' language.    LAST STEP: 'Self-agreement: If you buy it, you can sell it Resuming our discussion on THE FORMULA, we cannot omit to refer to the brief note that can was made yesterday at the departure of Gold Film, after the meeting with the members of BayYanış.  ¨Out of courtesy, the first questions he was asked were about how he was and the new series. After the press's "gentileza" was over, they quickly inserized the recent rumour made with editing techniques, by a character of little value, who would have built an image with a false conversation with Can. Of course, it had already been explained by his press advisor, which was an absurd lie with Photoshop. But the worst happened then, understand this well, from the commercial point of view on the way to the launch of your new series, when asked about his relationship with ¨Demet = PREVIOUS FORMULA¨. They pointed to 'if they made peace'. Then, began to circulate different translations from the original Turkish that divided the audience according to their interpretation.  Let us remember that at the world there are few who perfectly master the Turkish language, outside Turkey, with the level of a ¨native¨', however much many can understand single words or make a literal translation word for word. Many interpreted the question as whether we wanted to know if there was a friendly reconciliation, leaving behind the so-called "fight or angry situation" (that made-up discord I mentioned earlier). On the contrary, others interpreted the question as to whether there was a "love reconciliation". Which of the two interpretations is correct? Neither, both or just one, does it matter? No. The important thing strategically in this instance is to take distance from everything that can relate them to the FORMULA Candem & Canem, because both Can and Demet choose to continue to grow in their artistic careers, choose to be part of this medium and choose that their private life, be private. We are confident that these sweet and hardworking guys will continue to learn day by day, achieving their professional & personal goals. Increasingly developing, the tactical knowledge that will bring them closer to a healthy and non-defamatory balance with the press.   UNOFFICIAL INFORMATION - OUR ENIGMATIC Do we ever tell you about our TOPO Theory? We can divide them (topo = reporting mole) in 3 (three) types without evaluating the quality of the information, but how they give it.  1) The PRICE TOPO you charge for reporting, is an infiltrator or is close to one. 2) The SPEAKER TOPO, the one who heard something and freely distributes the information, carrying and bringing, just because it has a big mouth.  And finally 3) The Innocent TOPO, is that person who, with a distance not so distant, who has feelings so noble and strong that it cannot avoid "highlighting" when false information begins to circulate.

Tonight, fans of CANDEM & CANEM, can thank Ms. No. 3 with a fair profile, are likely to be able to continue wearing their pink lenses. Say no more.

Go Back to Spanish Version Read the full article

[paulasanimationba3]

Generally, I feel that I tend to handle pre-production and production roles relatively well. For me this means, drawing and iteration side of things. Meanwhile, my research could definitely be improved, especially regarding the themes and topics of the stories. 

Specialism:

2D Animaton- this year, I have improved my animations in terms of exaggeration, consistency of form, animating in perspective, posing, character development and performance ( although there is still room to improve)

Skills I am okay at:

Storytelling(?) - this year, I feel like I managed to effectively come up with concise, generally easy to read stories. Although, as mentioned before more research is needed in future for stories.

Layout and Background(?)- In both projects, I had an opportunity to both create backgrounds and also the concept art for them. Some  of them showed my experience in dealing with perspective. They also demonstrate my ability to apply principles of  shape language, colour and observation. Regardless, these skills could still be developed further.

Character Design (?) My character design this year demonstrates, not so much powerful design, but more so shape language that is simple to animate. Although I probably, can’t claim I am good at it. A personal project I did over the summer, has  a character design of a lion that has been intensely studied, in terms of anatomy and shape language, regardless I never got to finishing it. Realistically I probably won’t have the time to finish this project in time for portfolio submission, but it may be worth discussing with the tutors if there is a place I can find for it in my portfolio.

Concept Art(?) - I managed to do a lot of iterations of the concept art in my fable project, regardless this may need to be stretched further

Skills to SERIOUSLY  improve on:

Editing

Rigging- I finally had a go at rigging in after effects, it wasn’t entirely terrible, regardless Briana outlined potential improvements, such as rigging each limb separately. 

Compositing- I don’t know much beyond how to apply some generic filters. I am hoping that with Daniel Gies tutorials I would be able to learn a little bit more about lighting.

Animatics (?) I tend to default animate things, which creates extra work for me, also I never quite outline different values in the animatic, thus not helping the characters to stand out

Research- in both projects, this year, I used my own personal experiences to inform my stories and themes more than any scientific research. In Upside down boy, the only real character research that I did was observe Kieran, and let that inform my performance and actions of the characters. This offered me quite limited set of results. 

Goals for the Website:

Layout: I want to set everything up on one page and let menu buttons help guide the visitor

Logo: simple but animated, something that works well with the showreel intro and outro 

Colours: explore what colour scheme belongs in my this years films, I may potentially lean towards something neutral and light. Dark colours really don’t belong with the more children’s themed animations

Design- I could potentially try doing some background sketches/ design a custom menu bar that fits well with my sketchy style, thus also helping to unite the work I have in my reel. However, this could be an issue since I am makinng two very different looking animations this year.

Showreel: work I could include

Fable

Upside Down Boy

Crow and the Pitcher

Maybe a little bit of bestiary?

Potentially character performance?

Keywords I could use in my description:

Norwich University of the Arts, graduate 2D animator, visual-storytelling, BA Animation, 2020,Latvian (?),  freelance, creative, After Effects, TV Paint, character animation, children’s animation, design, final degree films, experimentation, drawing, iteration.

[dontbreakstride]

An Adventure at Annecy

Tumblr extended edition

A few years ago, I had discovered the existence of the Annecy International Animated Film Festival in 2015 when some of my online friends had attended it. When they shared their experience on Facebook, I knew I had to go some day.

In finishing the second year of my animation course, I felt this would be the best time for me to visit, so I planned my journey, got advice on what to see and how to get around and made my way.

Annecy is a really nice city. The main building that the Festival was hosted at Théâtre Bonlieu is just across the road from the huge open air screening, the lake and a view across to the mountain range. I was stunned by how the mountains loomed in the distance everywhere I went and everyone just went about their business. Since Norwich doesn’t have a mountain range, I was just in awe of them everywhere I went. There are also a lot of colourful buildings with grand architecture, large comfy cinema theatres and startlingly blue water.

Having never been before, and being unaware of Annecy Festival traditions, I was surprised by the amount of paper planes being thrown while the cinemas filled up. It was a completely different experience to going to the cinema any other day, and was a hard time adjusting to when I returned to England and no one was throwing paper planes and the like.

The experience at Annecy was very informative, and helped develop my ideas on my practice, which is extremely useful as I enter into third year.

WHAT I LEARNT

NEW CREATIVE CONTEXTS: A shared talk with Jean-Baptiste Spieser of Teamto and Tom Box of Blue-Zoo about current and upcoming things in the industry. The Teamto talk was about the production pipeline and how it can change radically depending on productions. The Blue Zoo talk was also quite interesting as it explained how they built and overhauled their render farm, as well as how they collaborate creatively within their studio.

The Art of Visual Storytelling with WALT DISNEY ANIMATION STUDIOS: The two speakers were Nathan Engelhardt, an animation supervisor, and story artist Lissa Treiman (who had, coincidentally, illustrated the first few issues that got me hooked to the comic GIANT DAYS). This was a massively helpful talk, very much worth the wait. The two speakers talked about how to make good shots great, through the positioning of cameras to the two cores of 'greatness' in animation – truth and entertainment.

Triggerfish's MAKING REVOLTING RHYMES: Mike Buckland and Sarah Scrimgeour of Triggerfish discussed the creative process of collaborating on the production of the short film Revolting Rhymes, including compositing and rendering.

The Art and Science of RENDERMAN: Dylan Sisson of Pixar held a talk showing the developments and potential for their Renderman renderer. It opened my eyes to the scope of things that Renderman takes into consideration, such as a recent shot in a Pixar film that had over ten thousand individually rendered lights.

VIRTUAL REALITY is the future: Google Spotlight Stories had a VR station set up with new videos daily. I managed to catch the session on Thursday which presented a preview of SON OF JAGUAR (dir. Jorge Gutierrez) and ARDEN'S WAKE: PROLOGUE (dir. Eugene Chung, Jimmy Maidens). I had never understood the true potential of VR in animation until after watching these, so much so that after I'd watched them I wandered around Annecy in a daze. Arden's Wake was especially mind blowing, as you could actually walk into the setting and see it from all angles. This has made me want to experiment with VR in my own practice.

WHAT I WATCHED

THE PEANUTS MOVIE outdoor screening: Having seen this movie before in English, I was surprised at how easy to understand it was in French. The broad animation style of the movie definitely helped.

A SILENT VOICE: A rather touching story about communication, repentance and forgiveness. Quite interestingly featured sign language in animation, which to me feels like a perfect match of two things, visual language and visual storytelling.

DESPICABLE ME 3: This is the first world premiere I have ever been to, and the atmosphere was wonderful. This was without a doubt one of the most active audiences I have ever been in. Whenever a joke hit, there would be a wave of laughter and applause, when one of the characters did something cute, there was a collective 'awww', even the applause at the end of the film ended up slipping into the same beat as the music of the credits. It was wonderful.

CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS: I never read that many Captain Underpants books when I was younger, so I was pleasantly surprised with how funny this was. Much like The Peanuts Movie, it managed to capture the style of its source really well, whilst still giving it their own flair.

ZOMBILLENIUM: An adaptation of a French graphic novel. Before the film began, the crew were on stage and threw production caps into the audience. The film was very stylish, with bold colours and shapes for the characters and making the CG look 2D.

SHORTS: I caught several showings of graduation shorts and shorts in competition. I was amazed by the diversity of shorts on display, showing the talents from animators of all walk-cycles of life. Shorts that stood out to me were the following:

Wednesday with Goddard (dir. Nicolas Menard, Canadian/UK) – a humorous and existential journey as a man tries to find answers to whether or not God exists.

When Time Moves Faster (dir. Anna Vasof, Austria) – stop motion using objects like plates and curtains to animate sequences, showing each frame being set up in real time, then speeding up the footage to bring the sequence to life.

Double King (dir. Felix Colgrave, Australia) – there is something in seeing this on a big screen that makes it all that more fun.

Nachthexen (dir. Julie Herdichek Baltzer, Denmark) – documentary short about the Nachthexen of WW2, animated in the style of Soviet posters

The Burden (dir. Niki Lindroth Von Bahr, Sweden) – a musical stop motion based around anthropomorphic animals who are stuck in an anxious and existential space in their lives. Won this year's Cristal for a Short Film award

Aenigma (dir. Antonios Doussias and Aris Fatouros, Greek) – a surreal trip through a painter's landscape mind-bendingly presented in 3D

Tuhi rumm (dir. Ulo Pikkov, Estonia) – stop motion of a doll in a doll house-like setting, has a mix of a nostalgic and haunting feeling

Casino (dir. Steven Woloshen, Canada) – a musical, energetic drawn-on-film animation capturing the frenetic energy of a casino

After All – Michael Cusack (Australia) – a very poignant stop motion film about a man going through his recently-deceased mother's belongings and reliving memories he had, very heart-rendering but with the occasional splash of humour

TIPS FROM MY EXPERIENCE

Take care of yourself: In the height of summer in the south-east of France, Annecy is hot. But when you are standing, walking, waiting and surrounded by other people who are also hot, the heat becomes unbearable (so much so that my watch had condensation on it at several points). Drink lots of water, try to keep in the shade when waiting outside, remember to eat.

Learn key phrases in France: This is something I'm going to try and pick up should I go again. I used to know quite a bit of French, but having forgot most of it, struggled at points of my visit. A lot of the hosts are bilingual should you have any questions, but knowing the sound of general phrases and what they mean is helpful in a pinch.

Beat the crowd: The Festival's 'first come first seated' events will fill up fast, and the queues for the screening events might result in you not getting in if you don't book a place during ticketing. The 'first come first serve' events that I missed were with popular big names, such as a talk with Guillermo del Toro and another with the creators of The Amazing World of Gumball and Don't Hug Me I'm Scared, which I am still kicking myself over, so be sure to arrive early for those.

Patience is a virtue: The queueing process at Annecy is quite arduous, but the wait is always worth it. I got into the talk with Walt Disney Animation Studios by waiting two hours earlier. It pays off very much.

Be tactical: Annecy is a big festival in a big city. Events conflict and travel times might be longer than you expect if you are travelling by foot or if you need to retrace your steps. When it comes down to seeing a mainstream film or a studio focus talk, choose which one would be a more informative experience. This links in well with taking care of yourself too. If you haven't eaten or drank anything for a while and you are thinking of joining a queue for something that needs you to wait for an hour and a half in the sun, it's better to take care of yourself first and foremost.

If you can, go in a group: Not only will this be a 'strength in numbers' type deal, where you can book into the same events and wait together in the queue and tap out should you need to get food, but this experience is one to share if you are enthusiastic about animation and the like.

Don't be afraid to try: I hate plane travel. I knew very limited French. I have the worst sense of direction in the world at times. But I went to Annecy regardless of these things and actually had a brilliant time.

[photographasdocumentspring14blog]

Essay by Michael Almereyda, Filmmaker

Cinema is a matter of what’s in the frame and what’s out. —Martin Scorsese

We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it. —Henry David Thoreau, Walden

In Cameraperson (2016), Kirsten Johnson has made a buoyant film about the weight of the world.

She lays out her process in a paragraph presented up front. What we’re about to see, she explains, has been patched together from material she has shot as a cinematographer for films directed by other people, in the course of a career spanning twenty-five years. “I ask you to see it as my memoir,” Johnson insists.

A memoir, yes, but one that is scant on autobiographical facts. You have to turn elsewhere to learn that Johnson studied painting and literature in the late 1980s at Brown University, where she had a political awakening, stirred by the anti-apartheid movement roiling the campus. Upon graduation, making an uncommon move, she transplanted herself to Senegal and interned there on a film written by the great Ousmane Sembène. In 1991, she was the first American to enroll at La Fémis, the French national film school, where she entered the camera department and discovered a vocation. She landed early cinematography jobs in France and Brazil.

Evolving from this global trajectory, Cameraperson is a nonchronological collage of raw and repurposed footage: forty-four distinct episodes (by my count) made up of sounds and images gathered for (but generally not appearing in) twenty-four separate projects. Most of the episodes are bridged by breaks of black frames, during which anticipatory sounds prepare for oncoming images. Locations are identified by title cards, and eleven people are given names and job descriptions, ranging from “Jacques Derrida / French philosopher”—a quick cameo, as the famous man impishly holds forth on a Manhattan street—to “Aisha Bukar / nurse, midwife,” a more substantial, recurring presence, granting us access to a natal unit in a Nigerian hospital, where the film arrives at one of its most harrowing sequences. We get scraps from high-profile documentaries—Laura Poitras’s The Oath and Citizenfour, on which Johnson served as a principal shooter, and Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11, for which she received an “additional camera operator” credit—but most of the movies cannibalized here are not especially well-known, and Johnson accomplishes her most probing portraiture by focusing on people encountered as strangers. Her inclusion, at regular intervals, of her own home-video footage confirms an impression of inspired and intimate rummaging. (This is a memoir that blurs the line between professional and private experience.) Ultimately, like a lavish quilt, or a bird’s nest, the film subsumes its source material on the way to becoming a complete and organic new thing.

More often than not, Johnson’s work takes her to places stamped by violence, death, and destruction, sites of collective grief and dread. Even if the worst of the mayhem has occurred in the past, she’s there to absorb and collect the residue, talking to survivors, bearing witness. Johnson supplies a few grace notes, musical interludes, flashes of scenic splendor, but for a film made by a cinematographer, there are bracingly few images that are merely pretty or picturesque. People are plainly what Johnson cares about most, and in this film she candidly prizes and examines her ability to use her camera to get close to whoever is in the frame. “Gettin’ close to everybody,” she murmurs, disarmingly, to an initially wary man in a Brooklyn boxing gym. The man smiles and relaxes, as if Johnson has cast a spell. She coaxes equivalent looks of complicity and acceptance from a boy in Kabul whose left eye has been blinded in a bomb blast; from an elegantly wizened Muslim woman in Bosnia and Herzegovina who, with a tight, tart smile, denies that the Serbs’ campaign of mass rape ever affected her family; and from her own mother, diminished by Alzheimer’s, regarding Johnson—and Johnson’s camera—with a mix of tenderness and fright.

The film has been crafted with self-reflexive knowingness. Shots that feature fumbling and reframing are integrated the way a confident painter builds a picture around bare canvas, loose brushwork, spattered drips. And there’s a steady pressing of a central nerve, a nagging question implicit in the most searching documentaries as well as the most trivial: At what point does the camera’s scrutiny become exploitative, invasive, voyeuristic, damaging? The question hovers throughout the film, despite Johnson’s evident gift for putting people at ease, respecting the pressure and pain of true confession. In sequence after sequence, she invites and captures intimacy, even or especially when her subjects don’t want their faces shown. (In these cases, Johnson’s camera follows their uneasy hands, and we see Scorsese’s axiom at work; what’s not in the frame adds eloquence to what is.)

As a self-portrait, Cameraperson is intriguingly elliptical, oblique. Early on, we see Johnson’s striding shadow, her camera rising from her shoulder like a jagged branch, an extension of her body, but in the course of the film she appears full-on only briefly, near the end. She doesn’t spell out a credo, or spill any outright confessions of her own. (In an overconfiding age, this may account for a good deal of the film’s power.) But Johnson’s overheard voice—a quick, open, guileless voice, quintessentially American—is there from the start, behind the lens, giggling and almost giddy. When her camera catches lightning slicing down from a wash of blue-gray Missouri clouds, she gasps, then stays steady and silent enough to take in the emptiness—a crash of thunder, its echo, a defiantly serene bird—then Johnson sneezes, twice, jostling the frame, undercutting any self-important claim to authority as the film’s title comes up.

Soon after, in Sarajevo, speaking offhandedly to an unseen collaborator, the cameraperson sketches her MO, talking like a teenager: “I always try to have some kind of relationship with people, like I’ll look them in the eye like ‘You see me shooting you, don’t you?’”

She shows us her twin toddlers in her Manhattan home (without giving a glimpse of a significant other) and spends time with her parents, inevitable augurs of mortality. Johnson’s father, on a casual walk, cheerfully displays a dead bird to the grandkids, while images of Johnson’s mother give way to shots of a container holding her ashes. (For the latter, Johnson keeps rearranging objects in the frame, adjusting the composition, as if trying to come to terms with the unadjustable limit of her mother’s life.)

In interviews, Johnson has expressed guilt and self-reproach about photographing her afflicted mother against her wishes. Yet, as she must know, some of her film’s most poignant moments emerge from this betrayal. How could Johnson resist recording her mother’s stunned face, trying to hold on to an identity slipping away before her eyes? Circling back to Scorsese, we can recognize that Johnson is confronting a larger fact: human presences are always fragile, fleeting, on their way to being out of the frame.

*****

You can entangle across time. You can entangle into the future, into the past. You can entangle through space. That’s what quantum entanglement means. It means that there’s another underlying layer of nature that we haven’t discovered yet. —Dr. Eric W. Davis, in Cameraperson

At some point in the editing process, Johnson seems to have taken her cue from the astrophysicist quoted above, riffing on the notion that we’re all entangled; time and space can’t always be taken literally; recorded reality can be reorganized to comply with memory and imagination. By this logic, less scientific than intuitive, people and places in Johnson’s memoir become entangled in occasional shared chapters, tethered by free-associational edits. The harsh wind in Wyoming, flashing through tall grass on the Johnson family ranch, makes Johnson’s mother stagger, wince, and seem to dwindle into a Giacometti figurine. With the grace of a cut, the same wind sweeps through a yellow hillside in Foča, Bosnia and Herzegovina, the rural village where a Muslim family has returned to their farm while contending with memories of genocide and war.

Similar associative links and leaps flicker throughout the film, but, halfway in, there’s a sequence that’s starkly explicit in its insistence on interconnectedness. Johnson serves up a series of landscapes where historic atrocities have occurred, now mute and tranquil crime scenes, mundane places conjoined by invisible carnage and, for the most part, a shared look of dreary ordinariness. The sequence includes sites of mass execution, torture, and rape, plus forensic shots of the drab interior of a pickup truck identified as the vehicle that dragged James Byrd Jr. to his death in the otherwise unremarkable town of Jasper, Texas. In this stretch, Johnson expresses a sustained note of anguish, like a war correspondent admitting to a case of secondhand PTSD, but she’s stoic about it, and, as her film offers a range of locations and perspectives, she’s irrepressibly alert to the bigger picture—a picture that includes antic dancing in Uganda, a woman embracing a fierce and humiliated young boxer after a lost match in Brooklyn, the flow of life around a roadside market in Liberia. It’s fair to say the “wonderful” God hailed by nine-year-old Kirsten in a preserved handwritten poem—“Your love never ends! / And my love to you will never end!”—has been displaced, in the grown cameraperson’s mind and eye, by a pantheistic understanding of the world, a sense of immanence and mystery that competes with evidence of unrelenting bad news. And so Johnson counterbalances bitter and abject scenes with proofs of compassion, consolation, even joy. And it’s no fluke that many of the film’s brighter moments involve children.

*****

Down with bourgeois fairy-tale scenarios . . . Long live life as it is! —Dziga Vertov

Cameraperson has been showered with sympathetic and insightful reviews, and hailed as a film without precedent. It doesn’t diminish Johnson’s work—its integrity, freshness, and force—to recognize that antecedents do exist. Dziga Vertov, the pioneering Soviet director of newsreels and kaleidoscopic documentary features, would not be spinning in his grave to consider his legacy extended and fulfilled in Johnson’s audacious and self-aware doc/essay/travelogue/memoir. Indeed, Cameraperson would make a provocative double bill with Vertov’s equally unclassifiable Man with a Movie Camera (1929), a dazzling chronicle of urban life channeled dusk to dawn through the lens of an itinerant cameraman, a tale told without intertitles or narration. (Vertov’s spectacular “day” was in fact filmed in four cities over a period of three years.) Man with a Movie Camera’s propulsive editing and hyper-aestheticized photography don’t jibe with Johnson’s levelheaded approach, but her anchoring ambition is aligned with Vertov’s: to record and elevate common experience, to uphold film as a reflection of reality rather than an escape from it, and, further, to create movies that open idealistically outward, providing a means for people to see their lives valued, honored, and in effect returned to them, even as they become part of a larger collective story.

In Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil (1983), we can find another singular, self-defining, soaring hybrid “documentary” experiment, a collage of fragmentary episodes candidly jigsawed together from a cinematographer’s accumulated outtakes. Marker uses magisterial narration to explicate his images, to question them, to expand their reach, constructing a philosophical inquiry into the nature of seeing, memory, time, consciousness; but strip away the voice-over and you can still take in Marker’s generous regard for the people he encounters, respect for their vulnerability, their otherness, their unique place within a vast human family.

All the same, Vertov and Marker, assigning their authentic, unstaged images to fictional cameramen, avoid the level of personal risk embraced by Johnson, who unabashedly (if incompletely) reveals her history, her unmistakable self, as the source of every frame. By the time we catch sight of her in Cameraperson, we can be forgiven for presuming to know her. She aims the camera at herself, standing beside her unsteady mother, sharing the older woman’s worried smile, and her eyes look haunted. The image emerges within a flashback, an editorial surprise, and it suggests that Johnson would agree with a primary Marker aphorism: “Being a photographer means not only to look but to sustain the gaze of others.” The gaze of others, we can see, carries a corresponding weight.

*****

I said to the wanting-creature inside me: What is this river you want to cross? —Kabir

Voyeurism is related to cinema as lust is related to love. You can separate them—you can try to separate them—but to what end? The urge to look, to see and share private experience—whether displays of intimacy, acts of violence, the urgent facts of another person’s pain—is seldom pure and simple. How do we, filmmakers and film viewers, transcend voyeurism? How can a filmmaker’s craft and conscience elevate images from voyeurism to revelation?

Cameraperson reaches a kind of climax back in Foča, Bosnia and Herzegovina, the place Johnson visits most within the braided strands of the film’s structure. She documents her return five years after her initial journey, with music from the resulting 2011 film, an episode of the PBS series Women, War & Peace, brimming over into Cameraperson, the movie we’re watching while the gathered family watches themselves on a laptop screen. Johnson, of course, records this rapt audience, their charged attention, then the rich homemade meal that follows, coffee, a cigarette. The Möbius-strip circuit of giving and taking and giving back—the process of seeing, sharing, and accepting—brings Cameraperson to an ideal summit of reconciliation, peace, hope for the future. “We hope someday she can come back with her son and daughter,” a woman tells Johnson’s translator, “to see how peasants live.” Exactly the response Vertov was hectically hungering for.

One of the film’s most arresting and resonant images, for this viewer, occurs earlier in Foča, when an unnamed Muslim woman lifts a bowl high above her head, confidently spilling berries into another bowl held below her waist. The free-falling fruit makes an ecstatic blur, and the next cut shows the berries as they’ve landed and settled, as if artfully prearranged: a ready-made bouquet of whorled color—red, black, white, yellow—an instant metaphor for plenitude and renewal, raw experience transformed into poetry.

“Wow,” says the woman behind the camera. “It’s like magic.”

Yes—wow—it is.

Michael Almereyda’s documentary films include This So-Called Disaster, William Eggleston in the Real World, Paradise, and the forthcoming Escapes.

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