What the woman says to the man? Post your caption in the comments below and in a few days we'll do a poll of 5 finalists to determine the winner.
Sound Editing in Drawings
After recording 20 actors we had to sit down with our sound designer Arjun Sheth to select good takes and put together the audio track - line by line, character by character, scene by scene. It is a very tedious job that requires high levels of concentration. To document the process of making "My Love Affair With Marriage" we allowed one small distraction - my intern Angie Jimenez from Rudolf Steiner School came with his drawing tools and furiously sketched our intense sound edit session. Angie is a very talented artist and I wanted to share his talents with you.
Next we travel to LA to record more actors. Stay tuned!
Caption This Drawing!
What the man says to the woman? And what could be her potential reply?
Please post your caption in the comments below.
If there is more than one caption, I will select my favorite and will communicate to the winner about a possible reward (not $$, but something tangible).
THANK YOU!
My Song to Graduating Students
Don't you sometimes wonder why we, the people from Eastern Europe, young and old, are scattered around Europe and the rest of the world? Perhaps just like the steam escaping pressure cooking pot we want to mingle with the gentle and permissive molecules of air outside the pot?
Time to time a European or American person aspiring to be an animator sends me a message asking where is the best place to study animation. I don't even have to think about it.
- Estonia or Czech Republic, - is my instant replay.
But then one day, to my surprise, I received the following message: "I am an Estonian animation student based in London and it is part of our third year project to ask advice from artists who inspire us. I have a couple of questions for you."
Why would an Estonian go to study animation in London and why would she want an advise from someone who has never studied animation?
Life is mysterious and world is populated with people who who have their secret reasons to move from one place to another (I will reveal you mine if you ask). After exchanging few messages with the Estonian animation student based in London - Sofja Umarik - we agreed that I will reply to her questions on my blog.
Question number one: "How do you manage to keep creating meaningful and beautiful films despite the industry pressure (and finance)? It has always been my dream to create films with deep impact, but I feel like nowadays it's very difficult unless you are making an independent film in the evening after work."
My answer: There are many beautiful and meaningful animated films. In fact, there are so many beautiful and meaningful animated shorts that it is nearly impossible to get your short film into a film festival unless its something truly spectacular or mind-blowing (my latest short "The ABC of Travel" is only cute and got so many rejections that I stopped submitting). Maybe it is different for animated feature films because feature films require putting together financial puzzle and that repels quite a few artists but attracts producer types. In any case, there is nothing wrong (or unusual) to make an independent film after work, that's how most animators start out.
One answer to your question is - I was able to make "Rocks In My Pockets" because I was willing to produce it myself. I am bad with numbers so budgeting and accounting was truly painful, but that's what I had to do as a producer. At the start of the project I made a budget (which was sort of delusional - reality adjusted it fast) and raised the money I thought I needed through fundraising events and non-profit donations, and when the project run out of money I started a Kickstarter campaign. The Kickstarter campaign connected me with new partners who were willing to share the producing burden with me and we were able to finish the film without me starving to death. I know a few animator friends who make money making commercials and then put that money into their independent films. It's just the question of how you want to spend your time: making commercials or fundraising and accounting. I personally like thinking about my projects (and not commercials) all the time and I like building partnerships around them. Also - writing project proposals and making budgets can educate you about the project you want to make.
The other answer to your question is: I am able to continue to make my films because I sacrifice the parts of my life that other people are not willing to sacrifice - family, children, friends, pets, regular income, financial security, new clothes, car or house. Any one of those things would hinder my ability to make films. I am an animation nun.
Question two: What advice would you give to a graduate trying to enter the industry?
My answer: I think it is very important to figure out early what you want to do and why. If you want to use your art skills to make some money, it's fair. Just don't cry that you don't get to make Art. If you decide that you'd like to make your own films to express your Deeper Self, then you really have to know why is it important for the rest of the world that you express your Deeper Self. The practical implications of making independent films will make your family and all your friends freak out and grill you about your sanity and financial savvy. "You spent how much money to make a DCP?" - they will ask and shudder when you reply. "You paid your rent with your last money and have no income to make the next rent!?!" - they'll scream.
"WHY do you do this?" - they will ask. "It makes no sense!"
So I prepared an answer that actually makes sense, at least to me: I spend all my money on my films and endure financial risks and live in constant stress because making films is my purpose. Like fish swim in creeks, birds fly in the sky, I make films because I cannot not make them.
I make films because I do believe in an individual voice telling a unique story that the Hollywood money-making machine cannot tell. I believe in Art as Self Expression and I want to defy the notion that one's worth can be measured by how much money she makes.
My advise on a practical level is something you have probably heard already many times, but we all know who is the Mother of Learning (Repetition), so here it goes:
To enter the industry, start with an internship/apprenticeship and make yourself irreplaceable there.
Contact accomplished animators, ask them for an advise - make a connection. Be nice. Keep in touch. Make friends with them.
If you started a project, finish it. Nothing is more demoralizing than a personal landscape littered with unfinished homework.
Treat your work as work (the most stupid quote of all times is "If you do what you love you will never have to work a day in your life", which is absolutely not true - work is work, no matter if you love or hate it). Treat your work with discipline and respect, please. Even if you work at home - get up at the same time, put your best clothes and shoes on, get to work at the same time, eat lunch at the same time and stop working at the same time, if you can. Take one day a week off to live a little.
Start with what you know an build from there. Dream big, but build from the ground up. Form or find a community around yourself of like-minded people who will support and challenge you. Make films consistently - it helps to build a following. Use social media wisely (so that it doesn't consume you and all your time). Make space for boredom so you can open gates to new ideas. Read many books, watch many films (not just animation). Learn what is it what you make an impact about.
Watch people. Think about people. Understand motivations of people. Study acting to enrich the vocabulary of your animated characters. Dance.
Find a purpose in what you do. Submit your life to something good and bigger than you and you'll be all right.
A Scintillating Rapture
We all know that the mundane drifts towards sacred knowledge and from time to time it gives us a flash of awareness of what's behind the boring curtain of the reality we live in. Almost like a presque vu but with a headache.
The other day at 9 AM sharp I arrived at my local post office to ship 30 Kickstarter packages internationally. Rosa, the post office clerk, had to scale each package, type my and the destination's address into the computer, put the the customs form into a plastic cover, attach it onto the envelope and set it aside for pick-up. Each package took about 5 minutes for her to process. After Rosa worked on 3 packages I did my calculations: 5 minutes x 30 packages = 150 minutes = 2, 5 hours + after every 10 packages Rosa has to take a couple of other customers for 10 minutes so that line doesn't get too long = 3 hours in the post office at minimum.
It was pretty certain that Rosa will not process my packages unless I was there by her window. So I resigned myself to the 3 hour wait (you can fly from JFK to Miami in 3 hours!).
To make my wait to seem shorter I pulled out my sketchbook and started to draw. My favorite drawing exercise is to follow where ever the first 3 random lines lead me.
I drew this:
And then I drew that:
But when I started another drawing I noticed that I was not able to to see it as a whole, parts of it were blocked out by some blurry spots of non-vision, like this:
- Oh no! - I thought in a flash of panic. - My eyesight it getting really bad. What if I am not able to draw all the 30,000 drawings for my new animated feature film? My Kickstarter backers will be upset! My whole career will be destroyed! And what about my reputation!
I looked around. The rest of the world also had spots of this non-vision. Another, more alarming thought entered my mind.
- What if this is not trouble with my vision but with my brain? What if I am experiencing brain hemorrhage?
My heart started to pound. I wanted to shout out to the other 9 customers standing in line:
- Call 911! I am about to pass out!
But I remembered that for the last 20 minutes those 9 customers had been casting ill wishing stares at me and my suitcase full of international packages that had yet to be processed.
I turned and looked at Rosa. Suddenly, the spots of non-vision turned into a bright shimmering sharp joint zigzag lines that looked like Great China Wall that decided to be more aggressive on both sides.
- Ah! - I sighed with relief. - I know what this is!
It was the Scintillating Scotoma that I experienced for the first and only time on February 14, 2013, 7 hours after our Kicstarter campaign for "Rocks In My Pockets" had concluded. This Scintillating Scotoma was followed by a paralyzing headache. And I think it ripped the fabric of my brain in some places because afterwards I was dizzy for 3 weeks as if I was walking on a ship crossing stormy seas. Holding onto walls while walking was my solution.
I knew now what would happen. As Rosa processed the package to Australia a mild headache hit and followed me when I returned home for lunch at 1 PM.
To show respect and become more friendly with the pain and scotoma, I looked up its description on Wikipedia:
"Some describe seeing one or more shimmering arcs of white or colored flashing lights. An arc may take the form of a definite zigzag pattern, sometimes called a fortification spectrum, because of its resemblance to the fortifications of a castle or fort seen from above."
YES. How did they know?
Suddenly, this very special and very personal event of experiencing migraine aura in the post office became a super social event that connected me with millions of people before me, after me and people alive now. If I was able to describe my personal scintillating scotoma as zigzagy fortifications of a castle or fort seen from above and millions and millions of other people described it as the same, how could we not say that our brains are made of the same material producing the same effect when presented with circumstances of stress, too much caffeine and a long wait in post office?
It felt assuring that my brain produced the same magical electric hiccup as did the brains of other people. It was a proof that I was human. And for reasons unknown I was chosen to be given the sacred knowledge of Scintillating Scatoma even if it ripped the fabric of my frail brain one more time.
International Women's Day
Since I woke up this morning I keep seeing posts like "Happy International Women's Day, Dear Women!". They seem well meaning but just don't make me feel the overwhelming happiness for the day that was supposed to celebrate my gender. And what does it even mean to celebrate women?
It reminds me of March 8 in Soviet Union, where those celebrations served as a mix of a Valentine's Day and a ritual of penance and absolution of one's (mostly male) sins. All a man had to do on March 8 was to show up with a bunch of red tulips on the doorsteps of all the females he had wronged and say: " Happy Women's Day, dear women! I love you so much!" and all the abuse he caused for a year was forgiven and forgotten.
I don't want women to be celebrated in exchange for absolution. We need no celebration, no flowers, no sweet greetings. We need true equality. The original March 8 in 1917 showed the power of women. Then the meaning of the day was hijacked and corrupted to keep women placated and away from the real power of governing and wealth.
This March 8 put your marching boots on and join the March forward!
The Kickstarter Drama in Pictures
The story goes like this: a small independent animated feature film "My Love Affair With Marriage" is in love and would like to get funded. It decides to propose. Dramatics twists and turns entail.
You can continue to support "My Love Affair With Marriage" on KickstartMarriageFilm.com
THANK YOU!
The Year Between Moons
I have met people who follow astrological instructions to the letter, and met people who dismiss astrology as a hoax. Personally, I like astrology and horoscopes. They make me think where I am in my life at the moment and help to define what I want from the future.
The Chinese measure their years with the help of 12 animals (one of them - Dragon - is an imaginary beast). A year ago we celebrated the start of the year of the Monkey. We were promised a year that rewarded wit and opportunism. "An auspicious time to start new projects"! - one of the horoscopes advised. So I made the following greeting card to celebrate the year of the Monkey:
Opportunism, I thought, is my second skin. I love opportunities. And I started a new project, as advised.
But before long, in March, my landlords informed that they are not extending my lease. I was too small a fish for their liking.
- Move out so we can make more money! - they said.
After a frantic 7 week search we found a space that suited the needs of my operation of building and filming sets. But it was more expensive and needed some serious work before moving the studio in. To save money, we laid the floors and build the walls ourselves nearly breaking our backs, and in June moved the studio.
In August the elections started shaping up and to help my candidate who was running against a person with a short attention span, I went every weekend to Pennsylvania to canvass for her. It is not possible for her to lose, I thought. She is too good and her opponent is too loose.
But to a great shock of at least 66 million people who rooted for her, she lost.
- What is this? - I demanded to know from the Astrology books. - What kind of Monkey is this? - I yelled.
Then I saw in the small print under the predictions: due to Monkey's short attention span, the year will be full of unexpected turns and twists. Things could turn on a dime.
Which they surely did.
Opportunities, I realized, in 2016 were for the monkeys sitting on higher branches. My brand of opportunism didn't get to score in a year of this Monkey.
So I turned my hopeful eyes to the next year - which is starting today- to the year of the Rooster. What does it promise and what is in the small print that I should know about?
The Rooster loves intense drama, the horoscope says. Organize and persist. The year will reward commitment and hard work.
- Oh well, - I said. - That means I have to start a Kickstarter campaign.
Because I can't imagine harder and more intense work than running a Kickstarter campaign.
So made a card to welcome you to the Year of the Rooster:
And I started a Kickstarter campaign for my new animated feature film "My Love Affair With Marriage". Because, you know, peck by peck I can collect a few thousand grains. I organize, I commit, I persist and work hard. What can go wrong?
The Question of God
As I sat down on an N train I took my backpack off to pull my drawing pad out. The car’s doors closed. The train started to move.
The woman one seat over leaned towards me and asked:
- Is Barclays Center the next stop?
It took a moment for me to mentally get hold where we were geographically, then said:
- Yes. Atlantic Avenue is the next stop.
To punctuate my information with good intentions, I smiled. Then turned back to the stubborn drawing pad that got stuck in the backpack’s pocket.
The woman, still looking at me said:
- It was a beautiful day, wasn’t it? The Sun came out and it wasn’t too cold.
I turned again, slightly irritated with the continuing interruption but determined to be kind.
- It probably was a nice day, - I said, - But I didn’t see any of it. I was working.
- Long day in an office, huh? – She said with eager sympathy.
I paused, considering if to correct the term “office” to “my own studio” but decided against it, as I wanted get to my unfinished drawing as soon as I could.
- Yes, - I said, turned back to my backpack and finally retrieved the drawing pad.
- May I ask you another question? – The woman asked. – It is a very simple question.
I was about to open my notebook and looked at her with a growing impatience.
- Go ahead.
- Have you read Bible?
It is a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question that tricks one into a four-hour conversation.
- I have read the Bible but wouldn’t call myself an expert on the book, - I answered, hoping my curt reply would nip the four-hour conversation in the bud and turned back to what I really wanted to do. As I opened my book, the woman asked:
- Do you believe in God?
I closed the book and looked at her carefully. She was middle-aged, with a hopeful expression on her comely face. Like a Manhattanite she was dressed with sophistication yet here she was, in Brooklyn, trying to hook a stranger into a conversation about God. I have no time or patience for this. Make it abrupt. I said curtly:
- No.
- Why not.
- Because of where and how I grew up.
- I see – in Soviet Union, - the woman said with a knowing smile.
Well, at least she was good at placing people’s accents.
She continued:
- But times have changed in Russia…
Although now I see, no – she didn’t get my accent that precisely, just very general geographic whereabouts.
- … and now you can believe in God in Russia.
- I can’t believe in God because God doesn’t exist, - I replied, my heart pounding. I hate to contradict other people. It stresses me out.
- I am here to tell you the good news - God exists whether you believe or not, - she said, while her eyes narrowed. She continued to smile.
- That’s exactly right – I don’t have to believe in God in order for you to believe that God exists.
- But God exists, - she insisted.
- You seem very certain about that.
- He sends messages. He speaks to me.
- Not to me.
- You have to be perceptive.
- Look…
- Emma. My name is Emma, - she said with a slight nod.
- Look, Emma, I came to this world by chance and knowing it makes me appreciate every moment, and every person I encounter. I am connected with a larger community and do as much good as I can. I don’t need to believe in God to be a good person.
- You didn’t come to this world by chance. It was God’s plan. He gave you the office and your job and this beautiful day.
It was hopeless to tell her I created my own job and rented my own studio. But one must keep a conversation about God simple.
- I just don’t see the world the way you see it, - I responded. I didn't want to win this conversation, but didn't know how to get out of it.
- It doesn’t depend on how I see it. God is the absolute truth. I want you to know God exists. Why can’t you take the message? – she said with bewilderment.
In a 5-minute ride from Brooklyn’s 36th street stop to Atlantic Avenue she wanted to change every single of my 287 billion neural pathways that took half a century to form. She must believe strongly in her abilities. But so do I. Let me turn this around.
- Can I ask YOU a simple question?
She looked at me with an eager hope and immediately said:
- Yes.
- What prompts you to strike a conversation about God with a complete stranger? – I inquired.
- I want to deliver the message of God to every single soul I encounter.
- How would you feel if a stranger came to you on a subway and started to tell you that what you believe in is just a silly fairy tale and there is no God?
- I would feel sorry for them, - Emma said and put her hands together as if in a prayer.
- So, there. That is how I feel, for you.
That moment the train stopped at Atlantic Avenue. The doors opened. Emma got up.
- I will pray for you, - she said. Her smile covered mean tension.
- Thank you. My best wishes to you.
She walked out. The train moved towards Manhattan Bridge and I opened my notebook. Now I had only 5 minutes till the next stop to finish the commissioned beagle drawing. But Emma and her quest stayed on my mind.
I got off on Canal and walked towards 6th avenue. Why this Emma felt she had the right to barge into my very psychological core to try to make me into someone else? Argh, the arrogance of people who believe in God – they think they can snap their fingers and everybody will become like them. Why this is so maddening?
Deep in thought, I crossed Canal street without looking. From the corner of my eyes I saw a flash of headlights. I turned my head. Suddenly time slowed down. A car was about to collide with me. A jolt of panic stopped my breath and paralyzed my limbs. I knew I had to move either forward or fall backwards but was unable to move. Then, just as the wind from the car’s bumper brushed by my knee, a powerful muscle of unseen energy pushed my body out of the car’s way.
I flew backwards and landed on the sidewalk. People screamed. The car’s brakes screeched. I took a breath. I still felt the touch of the force that pushed me. It felt good. Then I knew what it was. God had saved me. God exists.
Emma walked out of the subway car alight with indignity. She seemed such a nice woman! But turned out to be so rude! Emma knew she would feel sorry for the woman and would pray for her eventually, but right now she felt anger. Those people denying God! So arrogant! So smug! The woman had insulted not only God but also the very core of Emma herself.
Deep in thought, Emma stepped from the curb to cross Atlantic Avenue when she heard a shout. She turned her head and saw a bicyclist about to slam into her. Time slowed down. A jolt of panic simultaneously urged her to run and filled her body with lead. Emma saw her own reflection in the bicyclist’s glasses. She was only able to raise her hands in a useless gesture of defense when the metal of the bicycle and the body of the bicyclist crashed into her.
The impact made bones that Emma’s whole life seemed to be fully integrated with her muscles and flesh to come apart in 206 separate entities just like sparks of firework separate from their container after explosion. Emma became aware of every molecule in her body. It made her feel utterly alone and at the same time - belonging to the larger world outside her that was made of molecules, too. Universe is indifferent, Emma suddenly realized as she was falling. Now I know: God does not exist.
Road to a Grumpy Crow
A few hours before my HOLIDAY SPECIAL offer expired an order for came in with the following instructions:
"My creature of choice would be a crow. I love crows. People think crows are wise, and mystical, but I reckon that's probably not entirely true. They're grumpy, and badass, and think the world revolves around them. Also they have to put up with an awful lot of bad weather. They have to live up in the trees!"
The description of crows reminded me of this bird:
But that is called Rook or Jackdaw. While THIS bird below is what people in my country call a Crow:
So I sent a message to Richard (the person who ordered the drawing) and asked to clarify. He instantly replied with the image of this bird:
And another image - of the sculpture he made of the bird:
Richard, it turned out, is an accomplished artist who besides all other things does artwork on commission. You can see his work HERE and HERE and HERE. This is the first time he commissioned another artist to make something for him. I nearly fainted from fretting: just one look at my art will make a real artist recognize what a fraud I am! But work is work. I've already spent the money, so I had to deliver the art. I must dazzle Richard with a brilliant idea so that he wouldn't see my failing at the craft. Would he like this:
Oh, no, this can't be good enough. Let me try something more interesting:
Meh. I could do better. There is something to the idea of Richard carving an image of a crow out of wood. He also mentioned that he heats his old cold drafty house with firewood. He is taking away trees from freezing crows to keep himself warm. How about this:
Yeah, but does the idea of a crow related to trees reads well enough in this image? Let me make it more dramatic:
Not sure if the idea reads too well. Its also a touch violent. Let me develop it a little better:
I am afraid I don't have skills good enough to render this idea clearly enough. Lets try to go in a different direction. I liked one of my first ideas of the crow wearing his beak as a mask:
Yes, but. I like that crows are black like coal. Like a shadow on a wall. What if the crow had a shadow? But in place of his heart there is a hole for light?
But black and black on a white wall will not make a lot of color. I think Richard wants color. Lets see if I can make a colorful drawing with trees being the crow's home:
Doesn't seem too exciting. Lets return to that other crow drawing and develop it a bit more:
Looks too flat, too 2D. I need a cinematic approach - foreground interplaying with background. Lets try one more time.
Well, this is not good, but I am running out of time. Let me just stop at this and make the best of it.
The one thing you may not notice at the first glance, that the snow is painted in about 8 layers: first deep purple, then navy blue, then another layer of purple blue, then baby blue mixed with navy blue and so on. You will see all the colors if you pout the drawing in water. But then you may not have the drawing.
Richard liked it.