25 Oct 01 - 1:28am

Last Monday

Got up at 8, out the door by 9. Made the mistake if buying a pair of sunglasses w/out trying them on first. That was 11 bones I didn't need. Caught the bus/BART/ bus and here I am at Oakland International, hunt-and-pecking this into my Visor.

Pre-baggage checkin. The line snakes, quadrupling back on itself. I hope I'll be allowed 2 carry-ons. As much of an ass-pain as this constitutes, it does at least create the appearance that security is tight. If these people weren't being inconvenienced like this they'd be stressing and freaking even worse. Or taking the bus. They� we� need to feel that something is being done. The normal stats for air catastrophes aren�t enough to keep people off the planes, but a dozen racist, misogynist, religious freaks seem to�ve done the trick.

For the most part, everyone is being pretty well behaved. Holiday lines are probably this bad. Were this bad, I mean. I'm about halfway through, now. Boy about 7 dragging his mom's suitcase and chanting "let's go, pee-po, let's go, pee-po"...back and forth we go, crossing and recrossing like we're waiting in line at Disneyland. I keep passing through this cloud of rose perfume that stings the eye. Someone didn�t shower this morning. Besides me.

Later:
Completely uneventful flight. MB meets me at the airport. I took his Animation History course a few years back and was struck by the man's absolute passion for the subject. He's a living breathing encyclopedia of cinema. During the ride I make a passing mention of King Vidor's 'The Crowd', and the man is off on a detailed account of how the head of the studio went against all good business sense in releasing the film in 1925. He speaks eloquently of glimpsing the famed director, in his old age, attending a movie with his grandaughter, and how he wiped his tears with a hankerchief. In the midst of this story he stops and says "what on earth made you mention that movie"?, and I tell him how it's influencing one of my current projects. Just one shot, really, and then only after seeing that shot visually quoted in Orson Welles's adaptation of 'The Trial'. I trail off feebly, feeling like a philistine. He smiles anyway, and drops me off at the Sister School.

The Sister School is now in its own location: anonymous office suite in an anonymous industrial building in an anonymous industrial park. I say hi to the U-Boss, and am soon introduced to the faculty and students. Everyone, to a man, greets me warmly and says the same thing: "We're so glad you're here!" Soon the students are saying it. "We've heard so much about you!" I think �what has that woman been saying about me? Just what the hell do these people think I can do?�

That night I sit in with a class that�s been� troubled, shall we say� the instructor has flat-out �fessed up that he feels unable to teach these folks what they need to know. A cause for concern, not the least for the fact that he did this in front of his students.

Little things like this happen all the time; a file gets corrupted, a button doesn�t do what it�s supposed to, or maybe you run into class just having nailed your lesson plan in the last 45 seconds� it happens. Short of not allowing it to happen� when it does happen, the trick is to make it look like it never happens. Has never, will never.

It�s a presentation trick. You act as if it�s all part of the lesson. �See that? See how that thing I was going to do didn�t work? Here�s what to do when that happens� � It�s a stall, a device. It�s distraction to pull when the plane stops flying and you speak into the cabin intercom, drawling laconic and all Chuck Yeager�like: � Ladeez an� Jennelmen, ahhhhh�. if you look to your left you can just make out the curvature of the earth�� You do this to buy yourself a few seconds while you get the nose down and try to windmill the engines back to life. And if you make a crater, you look at your students with a don�t-these-consarned-computers-do-the-goofiest-things twinkle in you eye, and you call a five minute break.

Gods, I wish I�d picked up on that trick back when I was playing with my old band. Whenever I�d clam a note I�d make this awful grimace; �Boy, did I ever just fuck that up!� I never got the fact that it just draws attention to the mistake. Some day when we play again live as a band, watch my face close for signs of bland and self-assured concentration.
That�ll be me fucking up.

But, as is my wont� I digress.
This guy, JM, the instructor, is a really cool guy. He�s a pro. He�s got the chops. He just lacks a little confidence. So he sits in on my sitting in, and hopefully he gets something out of it. The students had been making various panicky noises in the weeks previous, and this last goofup had made them a flight risk. Someone had been overheard to grumble "I'll bet no one at Pixar had to go through anything like this".

Sensing that they want reassurance, I give them some reality instead:

Pause.

�And it�s not because you guys aren�t sharp, or aren�t working hard enough, or working smart enough. Want to be a character animator at Pixar? So do I. But like you guys, I�ve got about 800 bad animations to do before I start making the good stuff. Well actually, in my case� 400 bad animations.�.

That gets a chuckle.

�Places like Pixar, PDI, Tippet, ILM, Secret Lab� they don�t even consider someone for a character slot unless he or she has passed that �zero bad animations� mark years before. Years.�

A hand goes up.
�Why are they so strict about who they hire?�

�They do it that way because they have to. They can�t afford not to. Not with so much of someone else�s money on their table.�

Another hand.
�So is there just no hope of getting into a place like that?�

Head shake.
�Not what I said. With so many mediocre animators and 3D artists hustling for jobs, you�ve always got a chance to distinguish yourself. Will you ever get a gig at a place like Pixar? I honestly don�t know. It�s possible, but only if you make this your passion. Only if you love animating characters so much that you�d rather do it than do anything else in the world.�

Another pause.

�Well, almost anything.�

An actual laugh this time.

�You�ve got to love it as much as that �almost anything�, though. You�ve got to want to do it so badly that you�re willing to do it badly, for a very long time, until you get better at it. You�ve got to want to do it in your sleep, so that when you are going without sleep to do it, you won�t resent it. Guys like Chris Moeller and Victor Navone started with what you�re starting with: the desire to make nonexistent things jump around and live. They wanted it so badly that they did it every chance they got. They did it while they were working every kind of odd job you can imagine. Whatever it took to keep going and survive while they honed their skills.�

One last pause.

�This course is no substitute for the kind of passion we�re discussing here. That has to come from inside of you. All we can do is wedge the door open, give you a map and a compass, and point the way.�

I looked at my watch.

�Let�s take a five minute break.�

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