Congratulations. Whether leaving the sanctuary of CalArts or NYU, Art Center, Chicago Art Institute, UCLA, USC or Full Sail, you have accomplished what few have done. You first managed to overcome the obstacles of securing a place in a class where space is limited and applicants are plenty. You have struggled through the rigors of fundamental classes and advanced seminars, impossible hours and frequently limited resources. You have produced work that has grown in its sophistication both technically and artistically, and you have done so at great expense. Many of you leave with a financial burden equal to or greater than that of the average American household, and very few of you can afford to waste another minute letting that debt continue to grow. However, before you say yes to another job offer, before you even consider the possibility of an entry-level post with your dream job or your fallback, please remember this – you will never have another chance to take as bold a creative risk as you are afforded in this moment. You will never again be as free as you are now to meet the challenge of pushing animation beyond the place it stalled nearly seven decades ago. You are the fourth generation of young talent entering a revitalized industry. I beg of you, don’t leave it to the fifth generation to do your job.

In the late 1990’s a rather generous and ambitious producer with whom I was acquainted asked me to consult on a project to fund a series of short animated films – the medium the late Joe Grant thought was best suited for animation, and which gave animation the greatest chance of pushing beyond the ordinary. It was a “pilot project�? with limited funding so I suggested to him that the best and brightest of “the future�? of animation were likely to be found among graduating seniors at a handful of top training programs who later that year would be showing their student films in a series of on-campus festivals. They liked the idea and I stipulated that I would consult on the project only if the financials were made transparent to each prospective filmmaker from the outset and that the filmmaker retains the rights to their original characters. They agreed, with the stipulation that prospective filmmakers had to sign a non-disclose before details could be discussed. This meant the most we could say in initial conversations was that an un-named producer liked their work and wanted to meet with the student film maker and either their parent or a faculty member to outline a proposed project for funding completion of their films for distribution. We could go a bit further, explaining that a deal was possible that would mean purchase of the product and shared rights to licensing and non-theatrical products such as home video and on-line distribution while the artist retained rights to their characters. The budget for completing these films ranged from ten to thirty-thousand dollars, and the “buy out�? prices were on the low end of that range.

It was a dream deal for a first-time filmmaker. It wasn’t anything that would set records, but it was solid enough to help establish visibility, get a theatrical distribution of their product and characters, and, if they took good counsel, give them some income so that they could continue making their own films rather than have to take work elsewhere. There were students in live action coming out of the major film schools who would have killed for half as much or less.

Happily, in the first two weeks we found over a dozen thoroughly original and frequently very funny films, several with the potential for being franchised beyond a single short film. Sadly, after only six weeks, the producer and the corporation gave up on the project - out of exhaustion from having to jump through too many hoops to get anyone to even blink with the slightest bit of enthusiasm.

At first, it was understandable that both students and parents were cautious, as the producer had no track record in animated films. Also, we were rather limited in what could be discussed before a non-disclose was signed. Nevertheless, we persevered and three students responded following one student festival.

The producers ultimately met with none of them. One had their father call and grill the producer for thirty minutes on the phone in a tone that no agent at CAA or ICM has ever used, and which made Ari on Entourage look like a Boy Scout. The producer was absurdly polite and said only that they preferred to meet in person so that they could detail the project and disclose the proper written materials that would outline the proposal. The parent acted like it was a scam and basically said, “well, either tell me now or forget it�? and the producer politely said, “thank you, but we’re going to move on.�? “Somebody needs to tell this guy his kid is an animator, not the star center of a championship basketball team�?, they told me. I responded, “Well, I know of very few NBA players who can impact audiences like a great animator.�? They frowned and moved on. The other two students made appointments, but kept the producer waiting - one for two hours before they called to say they weren’t coming, and the other simply never showed.