Well anyway, as you are probably aware, 3D basically stirs up a lot of passion amongst its advocates; all you have to do is mention motion capture, rotoscoping or even inverse kinematics and some people's eyes will- quite literally- explode out of their face with rage; showering colleagues or family in a deluge of...er...stuff. You might think this is a slight exaggeration but you'd be wrong. I've seen it: Not with my own eyes but with the eyes of someone else who told me.
The problem is there's the school of thought that believes that only if you have worked for 200 years under a Jedi master do you have the right to think about the possibility of imagining of attaining some kind of apprenticeship, making tea and pulling the hair lice out of crusty old semi- gods who are the fill-in animators for some deity who no doubt doesn't even exist on the physical plain. The other gang think that any old rubbish thrown in the general direction of a cheque book qualifies them as An Animator(tor...or....r...). You would assume that as mature and intelligent members of society they could simply agree to meet outside a local pub with bats and settle it once and for all. But no. That would be too easy. So the arguments start: Under the guise of intelligent debate long held issues arise and before you know it some limp wristed liberal has pulled the old "Hey guys, let's all live in peace and harmony with the flowers and the bees" or "A tool's a tool. I'm a tool. You're a tool ..." *Smack!*.
Now far be it for me to come down on either side. As you know, gentle reader, I have pledged my allegiance to the gods of beneficence and tolerance. Flanders from the Simpsons is a little too radical for my tastes, but he's a fair comparison of my gentle nature. I think though that a man- or woman (let's not be sexist here otherwise I'll have some radical feminist chick on my case!), should stand up for what they believe in. Say what you like, like what you say, do as I say not as I do, come and have a pop then son, pick a window ya jerkoff, Oof! The crowd are on the pitch, they think it's all over..Hurst! 4-2! It is now!
Maybe it's the lives we lead today. Growing up in the sixties gave me a special insight, I think. 1969 was a special year for me- probably for every other one year old- and I think I realised, as I was dribbling baby sick down my fat cheeks, that it was the end of an era. The reason I'm telling you this is because it's as true for the animation industry as it is in life. We'll never have those days of innocence again: Hippies getting busted by axe-wielding policemen, winning the world cup, Polio. Now our world centers around a bright box sitting on our desks. And the overriding feeling of...how can I describe it? An almost tangible, throbbing fucking headache brought on by eyestrain. I'm outta here.
Next month: Religion
