Premieres, Dragons, General Happenstance

AAAAH!!

What a crazy past two weeks these have been... Bearpuncher premiered, the Wingfeather Saga premiered and with that I feel like I've entered a new chapter of my life. It all makes me ready to sit down and write a cozy, short(?) recap of what all's been going on. It's something I hope to do more often in the post-Bearpuncher era... I've been particularly inspired by Coleen Baik's The Line Between newsletter, which captures moments across the creative process and publishes every two weeks. I don't want to promise that kind of consistency, but I do want to post more around here, since there's been plenty going on...

Bearpuncher Update

It's been two weeks since Bearpuncher was published to YouTube. In the event that I've done a severely poor job of advertising and you missed the announcement, you can watch it here! For free!

It's been thrilling and satisfying to see its audience evolve: from just me, viewer #1, as it premiered at 8AM, to friends and family throughout the opening weekend, and to the wider world over the following weeks. My main hope, as an unknown channel, was for it to surpass the 4K views of my previous film, Good Boy Richard. And based on Bearpuncher's initial performance, that goal seemed a bit ambitious. I was preparing to hustle and submit this film to dozens of festivals just so that it would be SEEN. By SOMEBODY.

But as of today, it's sitting at 83K views, which is just bonkers. My reaction to that news is all over the place - pride in the film's success and the quality of the artifact, confusion when I see other videos that are much more deserving of such numbers, fear that my next video may not do as well as this one, and gratitude toward the people who made this moment possible. It's that final mood that I've tried to settle into. I do genuinely believe that Bearpuncher's success on the internet is due to real people (most of whom read this blog) who took the time to recommend Bearpuncher, and get the ball rolling. People across the country and  the world  have seen it not because of me, but because of our community. Thank you so much.

I've prayed for months that God will prosper this film, and it's exciting to see that prayer answered. Perhaps the coolest thing so far has been  a highlight on the Animation Obsessive newsletter,  where it was mentioned in the same section as Worthikids and Cartoon Saloon... WOW. I just don't think any accolade could be better than that.

One other thing I'm learning - high viewership does NOT correlate with merch sales... in fact, I haven't sold ANY merch since opening weekend! I'm saying this not to guilt you into buying merch but as a word of warning to any other indie creator who hopes to fund their film that way... it's not easy!

But for all the talk of numbers and views and crap like that, I think my favorite part of the whole release experience was our little premiere party, where the local crew and friends got together to watch it on a big screen (which was SO COOL!) It was a fitting capstone to the whole experience, and a reminder that films are made and watched by real people - and that's who I want to make movies for.

bearpuncher crew

bearpuncher letterboxd admin team

My Father's Dragon

Circling back to the topic of Cartoon Saloon, my dad and I got to watch their newest movie together (as part of our unofficial watchthrough of their filmography) and it's a very sweet movie! It's as visually ambitious as ever, though thematically much simpler than their earlier work. It's very earnest and childlike and endearing, which was enough to get me sufficiently weepy at parts. And that kind of emotional investment means FANART! Which I now have time for! So weird!

Still on the fence about whether the magic effect is Too Much but I need to move on and not dally so long on this particular piece...

So... What's Next?

I've been trying to pump the breaks, turn on the reverse thrusters, and activate several more mechanical metaphors as I adjust to making art and living life without the burden of animating a short film. Turns out, I really DO like drawing (surprise) and drawing for a film helps orient my process and create clear goals. Already I've been diving into the next project, which is shaping up to be an '80s inspired reimagining of a favorite character from my childhood. I want to do something MUCH shorter than Bearpuncher, something nostalgic, something with more traditional mediums, and something attached to an existing property. Less than a week after Bearpuncher released, I was already back at it again, doing a bunch of sketches and trying to absorb an entirely new style.

It's strange because I don't feel spent. I thought I would be EXHAUSTED after Bearpuncher, but instead I'm hungry to make a new, different thing. Yet it feels a little too soon to again submit my life to the tyranny of another creative project. I had barely begun to indulge my non-art hobbies before I found myself putting them back on the shelf... and I think my next project will be better served by an extended period of exploration, marination, and play. Maybe I shouldn't be so anxious to return my life to the same state it's been in for the past 14 months.  I've mentioned before on this blog  that I felt like working on Bearpuncher was holding me back from the travel and adventure I had hoped to have post-college. But despite that, I've come to like the comfort of routine and the satisfaction of measurable progress. I still feel guilty to take a night off and watch Seinfeld. And I'm now scared to change things up, travel somewhere new, or advance my career. It's these concerns that I want to try to address in the (probably brief) time when I'm not going full-speed-ahead on another project.

I think it's fortunate that this season of rest is coinciding so nicely with the holidays, which is a natural time for reflection, and for watching a bunch of movies without feeling guilty... I'm already very much looking forward to Christmas and the new Ryan Reynolds musical looks intriguing!

There's still more to report - I've barely touched on the Wingfeather premiere or my recent fascination with Back to the Future (for some reason) but in the interest of time I will just say that the Wingfeather premiere was LEGIT - I was pretty starstruck seeing the cast and EPs on the red carpet, and Kevin McNally even walked past me! Twice! And my dad came all the way from North Carolina to see the show (and my first screen credit, technically) which meant a lot. Thanks dad :)

dad not pictured here, unfortunately. 

friends are pictured here, fortunately

I hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving and are eagerly anticipating the arrival of Bluey in this year's parade!! I SURE AM!

See ya soon :)

-dh

From Nashville to Kilkenny: A Love Letter to the Courage of Cartoon Saloon

ben (from the song of the sea)

I’m not someone who remembers the first time I saw a movie in the theatres, but I do remember the first time I saw a Cartoon Saloon movie. I was just beginning to take a serious interest in animation and was looking for films created outside the Disney/DreamWorks vein. While leafing through the small animation section at my library, I came across a curious DVD. Behind text announcing multiple awards and accolades, a pale face peered out from behind a veil of leaves. Its Oscar nomination and setting of Irish mythology interested me, and so I checked out this beat up copy of The Secret of Kells, Cartoon Saloon’s first feature. Perhaps this indie film would inspire me, set me down a new path, and change the course of my life.

Instead, I was thoroughly bored. This slow story about monks, punctuated by excursions into extreme stylization and visual whimsy, was practically indigestible to my adolescent mind. I returned the DVD to the library and thought no more of it. Yet in college I couldn’t escape hearing whispers about this Irish studio. A studio which bucked trends not only by drawing frames by hand, but also by animating in a boldly flat and graphic look. Concept art of the very monks I saw as a teenager surfaced as reference images during my character design classes. I may have forsaken Cartoon Saloon, but the studio’s work was too excellent to be ignored forever. Soon I had watched the studio’s full catalog of films, but this time, I found myself inspired and impressed by each one. Having grown a little older and (I hope) a little wiser, the beauty of the films opened up before me. A beauty which was most evident when held against the other films of the era. Thoughtful melancholy rather than fast-paced laughs. An abandonment of linear perspective rather than hyper-real CG renders. Uniquely Irish stories rather than generic fantasies and sequels. These were films from the heart, not Hollywood products. These were films that could only be made in Kilkenny, Ireland.

Which is kinda strange, because before Cartoon Saloon, there was no animation in Kilkenny. As I’ve been reading a number of great articles sparked by release of Wolfwalkers (Cartoon Saloon’s most recent film), I’ve discovered that Cartoon Saloon’s history has been just as unconventional as their films. While most animation professionals anticipate moving to LA at the beginning of their career, this wasn’t a given for Tom Moore and the CS team. Instead, the history of Cartoon Saloon has been one of making art where you are, even if that happens to be an ocean away from the industry center. Following the success of The Secret of Kells, any of Cartoon Saloon’s team could have easily found positions in the top American studios. They could have worked with the great artists of the medium and got regular paychecks. But in the years following The Secret of Kells, the team decided to create locally. At the heart of Cartoon Saloon is a courage to create the films they want to make where they want to make them - a risky attitude, but one that has brought us some of the best animation of the past two decades. It’s also widened the industry itself, creating a new animation hub out of a small medieval city.

I don’t know what my path will look like, or yours. I for one always imagined myself leaving Nashville to work for studios in LA or elsewhere. And I may very well do that. But it’s not just that I’m excited about the idea of living somewhere new - I’m also scared of staying here. Of making animation away from the guidance and half-security of the studio system, while inevitably working non-art jobs to support myself in the meantime. I’m scared to start something totally new and trust in my own ideas. And admittedly, I don’t want to give up the chance to work with the people and projects I’m such a big fan of. Right now, Nashville feels a lot like Kilkenny before Cartoon Saloon (just with significantly less castle).

That’s why I’ve been thinking a lot about Cartoon Saloon recently. As a teenager, I was baffled by their choices. As a college sophomore, I was inspired their films. Now as a weary college senior on the precipice of the future, I find myself guided by their bravery. A bravery to seek art wherever it is found. And a freedom not to compromise on what’s really important. The story of Cartoon Saloon has shown me that you can make art where you are, and the world will be better for it. That place may be LA, but it doesn’t have to be. It could be Nashville. It could be Kilkenny. But even in an industry as centralized as animation, there’s still room for new ideas, new studios, and new Saloons.


Thanks for your readership-

-dh

Specificity

great blue heron

Over the past year I've noticed a certain theme emerge in all the art advice I've been given. It's been hinted at by story artists, visdev painters, and recruiters. But I've never heard it talked about at art school, or any formal setting. It's incredibly central to storytelling, and something you can start using right now. You've read the title, so you know what it is, but for the sake of making this a tidy little essay I'll say it again: specificity! Be specific in your art!

I found it really strange that I kept hearing hints of this over and over from all kinds of different people. I first heard it during a Zoom presentation where Michael Herrera was discussing his path to Disney. He kept getting rejected over and over, but it was only when he relaxed, and drew stories that were personal and specific to his interests that he got accepted. While giving advice on what made good storyboards he kept repeating the importance of being specific over and over. Make sure the acting beats aren't generic symbols for an emotion, but the way this specific character would express their feelings through gestures and body language.

I also picked up threads of specificity in my study (and thorough enjoyment) of Ludo Studio's Bluey and Cartoon Saloon's Wolfwalkers. Both of these stories are deeply rooted in the locations the studios call home, both of which are places we typically don't seen in animation. Bluey is washed in the sunny palettes of Brisbane, with the characters often traveling to real places you can visit (which fans have since tracked). Cartoon Saloon has built the success of their entire studio on a willingness to be specific to the mythology and artwork of the Irish countryside, and in Wolfwalkers, characters walk along the same cobblestone streets that the animators themselves take to work. It saddens me (for more than a few reasons) that the entertainment industry is so centralized in only a few cities because we're likely missing out on so many unique locations for stories. Just think how many stories are set in California or LA simply because that's where the studios are! 

It's easy to see this advice as simply "write what you know" or "be yourself." But "be specific" encompasses so much more. For example - consider a period piece. I'm pretty sure Tracy Butler (creator of Lackadaisy) didn't grow up in the 1920s, but careful research and a uncommon (but specific!) choice to set the story in St. Louis rather than a northeastern city created a specific and memorable story. Of course, it's easier to add specificity to a project by including something that you are familiar with (Tracy did move to St. Louis prior to writing Lackadaisy.) But specificity has more to do with a willingness to ask questions than a previous knowledge of the answers. 

That's how you add specificity to your art - asking questions along the way. Everything starts out generic, but by adding thought and care, we can sculpt something specific out of it. Say you're drawing a pirate. You could just include the visual hallmarks: parrot, vaguely 1700s fashion, eyepatch, sword. This is generic and has been seen dozens of times before - but what if we began asking questions? What sea does he sail upon? Where is he from? How often do his raids succeed or fail? Is he concerned with impressing people? Or terrifying them? Actors are encouraged to ask these kind of questions all the time, yet visual artists commonly are not. If you can use your own experiences and observations to provide some of these answers, all the better.  For example, I'd probably gravitate towards a pirate story based on the Carolina coast, since I'm familiar with the area and could bring even more specificity to the setting and attitude. 

I also may find that I'm simply unequipped to tell certain kinds of stories. For example, I'd love to make a story set in the Australian outback, but since I've never been there, I will struggle to create something that doesn't feel like a generalized version of the culture and setting. I could do a ton of research, but I'm fighting against the grain here. Many of my favorite stories are made about the places and people that their creators already know and care about. They may be draped in a level of fantasy and unreality, but the direction of that fantasy, and the heart of the characters, will be something taken from real experience. David Petersen's Mouse Guard may seem like another forest-animal-medieval-fantasy, but it's specific because the main cast are based on his college friends. Not saying that you can't make stories about things you don't already know, but it will take much more work to be specific and honest to those subjects. 

If specificity so so tough, why bother? Well, the practical reason is that specificity implies story. Say you're drawing a kitchen counter in your scene. Even adding something as simple as dirty coffee mugs left about implies multiple past events and something about the person who used them. Being specific allows you to cram in as much story as possible into your project, which as a storyteller, is kinda a big deal. 

But even bigger on the scale of Big Deals is that it allows you to cover your story in love. And since that sounds heckin' cheesy, I'll back up and explain. If we're honest with ourselves, we won't make the time to do the research to be specific about something we don't already know and/or love. So if we have the ability to be specific about something, it's probably because we've noticed it, appreciated it, and on some level understood it. In other words, we love it. And when we're faithfully incarnating that thing/person/place in our stories, perhaps even exaggerating it for a clearer message, we're inviting the viewer to step into the story and love that thing too. We all have different loves, and the world will be a poorer place if we don't share the unique bits of beauty we see with people who may otherwise pass them by. And this applies to everyone - writers, nurses, waiters all. Our life experiences have given us the skills to see beauty in things others cannot, and I think it would be pretty cool if we shared those specific experiences with others. As a Christian, I'd say we all have a unique way to express God's love for the world, that happens to be mirrored in our own little collections of loves. I love Carolina summers, Nashville afternoons, and mice with swords because God loved them first.  

So perhaps being specific isn't about drawing what you know, but drawing what you love. 

Let's make those kind of drawings. Those kind of shows. Those kind of conversations. And make the world more like a stained glass mosaic of all the little bits of light we see. 

Grateful for your readership and your amazing-ness-ship -

Much love on this Valentines Day :)

-dh

PS:

I will not let myself sink to the academic level of adding a Works Cited section to a Roost post but here's another article on a similar subject that helped me find the thesis of this essay. It would be unfair to not include it, or miss another possible reference to the Happy Rock ;)

WOLFWALKERS

wolfwalker spirit

So I got the chance to see Wolfwalkers the other night, and (to quote the film) it was flippin' great. I've been looking forward to this film for a while now, worried that it wouldn't come to US theatres or that they wouldn't be open if it did. But the skies parted, our local art-house cinema reopened the very weekend Wolfwalkers debuted, and I got to see the film on the big screen in a theatre filled only by me and my friends. (Filled being a slight exaggeration - there were only about 6 of us, socially distanced across the entire room.) Yet it was SO FUN - the movie is so well crafted and a joy to watch. Rarely do you get to see a movie that truly develops animation as a medium but this is one of them. I loved how the animation and background style changes depending on whether we're in the town or the wild. I geeked out about how sometimes when a character moves quickly, their color takes a second to catch up with them. I was surprised by collage style compositions with grainy lines restricting the aspect ratios. Though predictable at points, this was honestly the most invested I've been in the story of a CS movie - it makes great use of abstract elements to build tension in a huge way. And it was so fun to once again get immersed in a magical world of Irish folklore courtesy of Cartoon Saloon. It's a movie that's captured my imagination in a big way, and I've been thinking about it this whole day (hence the fast turnaround on some fanart). 

And as you might have guessed, it's got me even more pumped up about trying to get to Kilkenny. Despite Covid, despite the Irish Government's confusing visa laws, despite my own faltering lack of skill - I want to be where people are taking chances and telling great stories. 

And where the woods are wild. 

-dh

Related Music Recommendation: Been jamming to this song from the Wolfwalker's soundtrack - hoping an official version will come to Spotify soon so I don't have to keep listening to it on Youtube.