Your Career in Animation: How to Survive and Thrive

Introduction

Although I never set out to be an author, it almost seems I was destined to write this book. Unlike many of my peers in the animation industry, I grew up knowing that one could make a living in commercial art. My father, Bob Levy, achieved remarkable success in advertising. In the span of four decades his career ran the gamut from creative vice president of Benton and Bowles, to creative director at Grey Advertising, Bozell, Jacobs, Kenyon & Eckhardt, and J. Walter Thompson. The demands of a high profile career in advertising would be enough to zap anyone’s strength, but for my father, that was just his day job. At night, his second identity as a freelancer would begin. From his home office, he often worked until 2:00 A.M., creating logos, designs, and illustrations for high profile clients including Pfizer and Procter & Gamble.

Growing up in suburban Long Island, New York, most of my friends bonded with their dads over a shared interest in sports. With both of us hopelessly non-athletic, my dad and I bonded over the world of commercial art. Our nightly ritual went like this: Dad came home around 8:00 P.M. I would follow him upstairs, where he would take his shoes off to relax a moment before supper. This was when I would get a vivid debriefing of the day’s events at the workplace. The stories unfolded like mini radio plays, with my dad providing all the voices, the most interesting being his own.

I’m not sure why he did this. Perhaps he was looking for closure or clarity that can sometimes only come by talking about problems. For a while I was probably too young to offer much back. Yet these talks taught me at a tender age the meaning of words like client, rep, art director, copyeditor, traffic person, account person, and portfolio. I first suspected my dad was giving me a unique education when the distinguished animator/illustrator Lee J. Ames came to lecture at my school. I was only eight or nine years old at the time. More than a few eyebrows were raised when I asked if Lee sent out samples of his art in a portfolio to try to get new clients. Lee laughed and said I must be a budding artist to have such a question.

Every night, for nearly twenty years, my dad was giving me valuable lessons on how to survive and thrive in the business. In return, I don’t think my dad could have asked for a more enthusiastic pupil. I got caught up in the drama of each office story and I would eagerly await the next installment the way some people anticipate the daytime soaps. As successful and brilliant as my dad was, he never told stories to try to present himself in the best possible light. These were WartS and all Stories.

The sketch is by Lee J. Ames, presented to me at age eight or nine, at Willow Road School in Valley Stream, NY The wear and tear is all mine.

My father, Bob Levy, Master Art Director at work, February 1980.

There were great mistakes, cataclysmic defeats, and long torturous times of stress and misery. On the other end of the spectrum were avalanches of creative inspiration, promotions, and other great victories in the workplace.

To my delight, the stories didn’t stop when I grew up and moved out on my own. Like some wonderful jukebox, my dad still recounts favorite stories. Now these memories are often jogged after I share some of my own stories. This book is written in the same spirit of shared experiences. My hope is, with this book at your side, you will see that you need not go through your stories alone.

YOUR CAREER IN ANIMATION

This book is as much for those with hopes of entering the field of commercial animation, as it is an industry survival guide for those already working.

The worldwide animation industry rakes in billions of dollars of business each year. It’s hard to imagine a day going by without being confronted by an image of SpongeBob SquarePants, Mickey Mouse, Bugs Bunny, or The Simpsons. Although animation dates back to the birth of film, it continues to evolve, as evidenced by the recent groundbreaking computer generated successes of Pixar’s The Incredibles and DreamWorks’ Shrek. Scads of books abound on how those films and your favorite animated TV shows are made. DVD commentary tracks regularly give us the voice of directors as they break down their creations. The curtain has been lifted and would-be animation artists now have more access to technical information than ever before.

Despite this flood of information, there are crucial aspects of the animation business that remain unexplored:

♦ How do you begin a career in animation?

♦ What kind of portfolio, reel, or experience do you need?

♦ How do you meet the local community of animators?

Likewise, those already working may be asking:

♦ How do you ensure that your skills stay marketable for years to come?

♦ What can you do to network more effectively?

♦ How do you make the leap from working for others to pitching and selling a show of your own or going into business for yourself?

No single book has ever sought to focus on these important topics until now. Utilizing interviews with those at the top of the industry, this book will offer up answers, advice, and personal anecdotes on all those questions and more.

What is the life of an animation artist? Ask one hundred artists, as I did for this book, and you’re likely to get just as many different answers. The average animation artist is a nomad, ready to offer his or her talents on a work-for-hire basis. Occasionally, the down time between jobs may outnumber the weeks that end in a paycheck. Health insurance, 401K plans, and pensions are scarce to non-existent. For every Mike Judge, Matt Groening, and Steve Hillenburg, there are one thousand animation artists staffing the ranks in complete anonymity to the general public. Yet, within the close-knit animation community, the best animation artists are known and sought out for job after job.

WHO IS THIS BOOK FOR?

On the surface, it may seem that this book is best suited for students and beginners in the field of animation. I might have made that assumption too, if experiences didn’t constantly show me otherwise. Just before I proposed the idea for this book, I met a recently laid off lead animator fresh from fifteen years of animating on features at Disney Animation in Florida. In his time at the house-of-mouse, he’d animated on nearly every feature from Beauty and the Beast to Brother Bear. One would think that sort of experience as a lead animator would prepare a person for working anywhere in the industry. Surprisingly, the animator hadn’t the slightest idea of how to find work. He didn’t know what types of animation jobs were out there in the non-Disney world and he didn’t even know what those jobs were called.

How can this happen? Well, it’s easier than you’d think. Someone can excel at a job and rise to the top of a studio and still work with blinders on. In the case of this Disney animator, his isolation from the larger industry was several fold.

First, Florida is not an animation hub. The isolated geography ensured that it would be difficult for him to meet his peers outside the Disney walls. Animators working in Los Angeles, New York, San Francisco, Toronto, and Vancouver tend to work on diverse projects that involve hopping from studio to studio. Such frequent cross-pollination creates a more savvy workforce than could come from working within the vacuum of a large studio in comparative isolation.

Second, at large studios like Disney Florida, there is a uniformity of style, technique, and work method. Jobs are narrowly defined and compartmentalized. Workers in such a system develop the tunnel vision that lets them excel at their posts at the expense of learning or understanding the myriad of other creative and technical jobs going on around them. Is it any wonder that this Disney animator could work in a top job for more than a decade and still not know how work is divided at a typical animation studio?

Lastly, the comfort of working on such a long-term job doesn’t allow for the advantages that freelancers enjoy by going from job to job. Chances are the freelancer knows where the work is, how to get it, and how to be asked back again. The freelancer needs to be a successful networker. For this reason, the freelancer has probably made his home close to or within a major animation producing city.

Don’t get me wrong. Long-term employment is not akin to getting the plague. Many freelancers would trade all their diverse experiences for a crack at a stable job complete with benefits and a health plan. Successful freelance careers do not happen overnight. Honing your creative skills and building a large client base takes years. There’s also the problem of isolation that comes from working from home or from not having enough time in any one studio to truly fit in to a team environment.

Ironically, freelancers and staffers face many of the same challenges. Recently I had a discussion with another animation industry veteran. He’s a successful New York-based animation artist with ample experience in 2D (traditional or hand drawn) and 3D (computer generated or three-dimensional) animation. He wondered whether he should pursue freelance work or look for a full-time staff position. While it’s an interesting question to ponder, it’s important to note that such choices are often made for us, not by us. Often the strength of the economy dictates how many long-term staff positions are available. In leaner times, there is a greater number of freelancers bouncing between short-term projects.

In many ways, a career in animation is not like any other imaginable. If you’re a doctor working at a hospital, you will not likely be expected to take a job as a nurse or an intern as your next job. Yet, in the animation business, such an equation is surprisingly common. Directors on one project may be animators or storyboard artists on the next. Not surprisingly, salaries swing up and down with these variations in titles and responsibility. On the subject of salary, it would be hard to find a career where salaries vary more. A small independent studio may pay one-fifth of the salary that a large studio such as Pixar can afford to pay. We’ll come back to this subject later.

As a guest speaker in my animation career course at SVA, animation artist and independent studio cofounder Candy Kugel explained what she looks for in potential employees. I look for someone who not only has the talent for the job, but is also someone that I can be around for eight hours a day. Now, following that same train of thought, picture yourself working in animation for eight hours a day, five days or more a week, for your entire career. You have to live with yourself and look after your own happiness and livelihood. Is a career in animation the right fit for you?

This book is for the hopeful, those who are hoping to break into the industry and those already working that would like to toon up to an even better career in animation. For some, this book might be the proof they need that animation is not a viable career choice. That’s not a tragedy. It’s considerably faster and cheaper to read this book than it would be to attend four years at film school, only to find that out. Nor is the purpose of this book to convince someone to enter this very specialized field. This book will not glamorize the industry. Instead, this book paints a realistic portrait of many different careers in animation.

ANIMATION ARTISTS, NOT ANIMATORS

We’ll use the term animation artists and won’t presume to call everyone animators. Animator is but one job in the collaborative atmosphere of a studio environment. This book focuses on all animation artists. It need not matter whether you work in 2D or 3D animation. The distinction between the two is a mere matter of technology. The industry is the same for both. While it’s true that computers are now a part of even the 2D animation process, it is unlikely that there will ever come a time when drawing skills will not be important in this business, or at the very least, a marketable asset to possess.

You won’t find specifics here about voiceover acting, editing, musical composition/scoring, sound design, or marketing. While all of those jobs are integral to the animation industry, there is nothing about them that is exclusive to animation. Those who perform those jobs in our industry also work just as often outside of it.

HOW TO USE THIS BOOK

Although only one chapter serves as this book’s official industry resource, this whole book is one big resource. As a reader, you have the flexibility to read chapters in any order. You may be first drawn to a chapter that deals with your immediate needs or interests. I welcome that approach to reading this book and I also recommend that you utilize the index in the back to further help you pinpoint what information you’d like to read at any particular time. However, like most things about this industry itself, topics presented in this book are highly interconnected. No chapter or idea presented here is an island to itself. The most useful information to you may live in a section you’re least interested in. Sneaky, huh? My fantasy is that most readers of this book will find all of the information gathered here of interest and even more important, of vital and practical use.

1So You Want to Be in Pictures?

I’d recommend any art school that will give you a good understanding of the basic principles of animation and access to good film equipment is a good start. However, some of the most successful people I know went to a state college and made animated films in their garage in their spare time. The thing that will teach you the most is experience.

—Eileen Kohlhepp, stop motion animator

Today, it is possible for animation artists to pick up the skills of their trade without going to a special school to study animation. There are numerous great books that teach animation techniques, such as Richard Williams’s The Animator’s Survival Kit and Howard Beckerman’s Animation: The Whole Story. By following the exercises and instructions in these books, you can conceivably teach yourself the nuts and bolts of animated filmmaking. Taking the home instruction idea even one step further, some books are now equipped with CDs or DVDs, providing living examples to the reader. Throughout this book there will be listings of recommended reading that I hope will become a part of your personal library. Richard Williams is famous for saying, You don’t know what you don’t know. Believe me, he’s not speaking exclusively to the beginners out there. He’s talking to everyone, including, amazingly enough, himself. The best talents in animation know that there is always more to learn. In a healthy career, we don’t reach a point where we throw our books or our tools away. We need them too much. Our journeys are over when we stop, not when we think we’ve learned all there is to know.

The author interviewing famed Yellow Submarine producer Al Brodax at an ASIFA-East event held at SVA. James Upton, eat your heart out!

So, if books play such an important part in our learning and development, why the need to enroll in an animation school? Why should one put in the time and expense required to get a degree in animation from one of the fine schools listed in the appendix of this book? It would be hard to imagine a field where a college degree or a good grade point average means less than it does in the animation industry. When it comes to finding a job, talent, enthusiasm, and relationships all take precedence over where you got your degree.

WHY GO TO SCHOOL?

Yet, before all the school recruiters faint in shock, I’d like to make the case for going to school. While it’s true that there are many great books teaching the art of animation, a book cannot critique your work. It is the trained eye that can help advance your skill by leaps and bounds. With the structure provided by teachers, assignments, and grades, the availability of equipment, and the inspiration supplied by peers, one has the best shot at learning the animation arts. A great book sits on the shelf until you read it. The exercises living in its pages do not do themselves. With a book, you can easily fall into the habit of picking and choosing what you’d like to learn and in what order. Even a valiant start, when learning from a book, can lose steam because there’s no one there to cheer you on. Nobody cares if you stop midway through or never even get started. Learning the animation arts is a discipline. It’s not always fun. In school (or on the job, for that matter) we’re not always drawing what we’re comfortable drawing. We are pushed to go beyond what we could or would be doing if left to our own devices.

Perhaps most importantly, animation schools employ teachers that are working in their field. While this does not automatically make them great teachers, it does help students have the opportunity to make those first vital connections they’ll need if they’re to break into the industry. Animator Justin Simonich advises students to, Pick a school in the city you want to live and work in. The contacts you make through your teachers will be the ones that get you into a studio and start you on your career. They will most likely have worked in that city and have formed contacts with studios, directors, and animators throughout their careers.

Schools also provide the animation student opportunities to meet some of the legends of the business. In my dual role as president of ASIFA-East and a faculty member of SVA, I have presented events featuring Ray Harryhausen, Richard Williams, Paul Fierlinger, Jimmy Picker, Yuri Norstein, Chris Wedge, Al Brodax, and Bill Plympton. Guest speakers at NYU Tisch Animation have included Chuck Jones, Frank Thomas, Ollie Johnston, Nick Park, Marc Davis, Jule Engel, Tissa David, Michael Sporn, J.J. Sedelmaier, Andreas Deja, Giannalberto Bendazzi, Pete Docter, Joe Ranft, Jonathan Annand, Michael Dougherty, Dan Sheffelman, David Zung, Faith Hubley, Emily Hubley, George Griffin, and Kathy Rose, among others. Even Dartmouth University, a school only offering a few animation classes, has hosted Karen Aqua, Nelson Shin, Piotr Dumala, Jerzy Kucia, David Anderson, Ishu Patel, Frederic Back, Rao Heidmets, Barry Purves, Michel Ocelot, Bordo Dobnikovic, Lejf Marcussen, Priit Parn, Nikolai Todorov, and Noori Zarrinkelk, etc. In addition to guest speaker engagements, schools also often host festivals and special events. For instance, Parsons School of Design in New York hosts the ASIFA-East annual Animation Festival as well as annual events with SIGGRAPH (The International Conference on Computer Graphics and Interactive Techniques).

Whew! That’s a lot of opportunities; it’s no wonder the Beach Boys sang, Be True to Your School.

Job Placement

"We have an outstanding career services office that works with graduates indefinitely as a career placement resource.

They provide services online as well as in person."

—Judith Aaron, vice president for enrollment, Pratt University

Animation schools, particularly those in or near animation hubs, offer students valuable job placement assistance. Schools receive frequent job postings from neighboring studios and often host annual recruitment events with the big studios such as Pixar and DreamWorks. These services are open to both students and alumni. Perhaps even more useful to the student are school/studio internship programs. With internships, students have the opportunity to venture into the industry while still accumulating credits toward their graduation requirements. According to Parsons School of Design’s Anezka Sebek, students in her school’s animation sequence are encouraged to spend one or more semesters in internships with animation studios. As internships are largely prolonged job interviews, many students have snagged their first job fresh off a successful internship.

Peer to Peer Connections

One advantage of going to school to study animation is that you’re automatically in the position to make connections with your student peer group, as well as with your instructors. The school becomes your first animation community. Here, the seeds you plant or the bridges you burn set the direction your career will take post-school. Some schools promote a sense of healthy competition among the students. A better idea would be for students to learn that each member of their class is a potential collaborator, partner, ally, and friend.

Everything a student does affects the reputation he has among his peers. As a guest speaker and an instructor I always encounter a moment when everyone in the whole class rolls their eyes or grumbles when a certain student talks or asks a question demonstrating tactlessness or an oversized ego. Such students are usually oblivious as to how they’re really perceived. Students also keep watch as to who regularly botches homework assignments, delivers lazy work, or is sloppy and careless in his or her craft. Students and instructors make mental records of such behavior and work. These evaluations stick to people long after the school grades have faded. These are the marks you can’t erase. So, why start accumulating them in a negative column?

Positive behavior is also noted by our peers. Humility, interest in what others are doing, and hard work are qualities that win the respect of others. After graduation, when the students scatter like billiard balls, who are they going to recommend for a job when in a position to do so? Our reputations matter as much, if not more, than the portfolio or reel we carry around. Learn to value relationships and you’ve already taken a major step towards a successful career.

My First Key Moment in School

One day in my second year at SVA, instructor Mark Heller, who ran a successful animation studio with John R. Dilworth called Streamline Film Manufacturing, popped into the small pencil test room I was occupying. Closing the door behind him, Heller asked me if I would be interested in doing some paid work on a commercial. If I’d been wearing a beanie with a propeller on it, it would have started spinning up into the air. Instead, I had to get by with smiling widely and nodding my head yes. For six bucks an hour I would be doing mat-inking for a thirty-second commercial for Land O’Lakes butter. In the days of traditional animation, this was one of the techniques used to add depth to flat animated characters by adding controlled shadows. Mat-inking is a process by which shadows on characters are drawn on separate levels of paper. The shadow areas are filled in with a black marker. These blackened-in drawings would then be shot under the camera on a separate pass from the backgrounds and character animation. The blackened-in areas could then be set to any desired opacity or softness by means of a digital process.

This was my big break into show business and I don’t think I’d ever been happier to pick up a marker in my life (and no, the marker fumes had nothing to do with my euphoria). As I knocked out the work, balancing speed and accuracy, I was able to finish and deliver the job on schedule. I wondered why I had been selected by Heller out of the twenty other students in the class. I knew I wasn’t the best draftsman, but I certainly projected a lot of enthusiasm for animation and the class itself. That attitude and enthusiasm had a lot to do with success was an epiphany. Employers want to work with people who are enjoyable to be around. The opportunity to work while I was still in school made me realize that being a student was my first chance to make the right impressions on potential employers (my instructors) and future collaborators (my classmates).

Instructors were looking at us as a pool of potential hires. They searched us for signs of enthusiasm and talent. This was both exciting and nerve-wracking. Wasn’t school supposed to be a sanctuary of learning, free from commercial and industry tampering? Most students want school to be a safe haven before they are forced to strike out into the big bad world. Art schools, like SVA, deliberately blur the lines by using instructors who are working in the industry. Unsurprisingly, this brings a great deal of the industry into the school and into the teaching process itself. In this environment, students enjoy access to and information about the industry while also being nurtured as independent, thinking, artistic filmmakers within the safe confines of the school.

My Second Key Moment in School

Mark Heller continued to throw good opportunities my way during my years at SVA. One day he announced to our class that his company was bidding on some spots to promote The Flintstones return to prime time as reruns on cable TV. He offered the sum of five hundred dollars to any student who proposed an idea that landed the job. As a student with a full load of homework, my available time was fairly limited, but I still wanted to come up with at least one idea for Mr. Heller’s project. I used my only window of free time: my daily commute. Living on Long Island, New York, provided me with a two-hour ride in each direction. As kids, my sister and I would sometimes go to work with my dad and we would watch him use the commute to fill every bit of paper he had with ideas and designs. He might be working out a new campaign as an art director, or maybe figuring out a design or a logo as part of a freelance job. From my dad I learned that I could use anytime and any place to be creative. What better a time or place to be creative than when you’re stuck on a bus