I tried like the very devil to convince them to give this a second chance, but it was bad business acumen and the producer and backers were not interested in holding anyone’s hand when they were forking over money. The saddest of all of these was the young artist whose well-intended and understandably protective father – who kept reminding the producer “I make my living negotiating�? - showed his less than better side. That young artist was on the fence about taking a job offer from a gaming company who ensured a regular salary to pay off bills while working in an entry-level job manipulating rigs of a first-person shooter project. I didn’t blame them, frankly. Twenty thousand dollars in debt is a very daunting thing. However, this rather gifted young animator is nowhere to be found these days. That is, they appear to have disappeared into obscurity, as nearly a decade later I’m unable to find any credits for them on any game or film.

I tell this tale not to scold the artists who failed to respond, or their parents. They did nothing wrong. It was the height of the mega-salary in animation, and studios were making money hand over fist on the backs of some very gifted folks, only a few of which were earning big bucks while the rest were earning scale. I was a theatrical director turned development consultant who had no credits to boast of. No, they had it right. It was I who failed them. Horribly. I offered them a no-risk deal in exchange for a no-risk deal that paid more. How dumb was that.

So, in a self-serving act of redemption, I write this letter to challenge you with the prospect of something even better than my reluctant producers: near certain failure, abject poverty, ridiculous risk-taking, and absurd idealism in the face of the impossible. What do you say?

As I said in the opening of this letter, you have already overcome impossible odds. That should be enough. (It should be; in truth, it isn’t.) Some of you will likely leave the business within only a few years. A handful of you will never even animate again after graduation. Even fewer among you have a gift, and the rest have a solid enough talent to see you through. Some of you will get dependable jobs. Some will get dream jobs. I’m appealing to all of you.

Who among you will dream big enough to say no to either one and stay a little hungry for just a little longer? Will you? Or you? How about you? Michael Eisner foolishly dismantled the second and third generation of Disney mentored artists, and sent their collective experience and invaluable shared learning out to the four corners of the globe without so much as a blink. Who among you will be wise enough to recognize that you could keep close those around you who have seen you through thick and thin and inspired you as you grew together and truly pioneer the untapped potential of animation? Will you do as Walt did when labor conflicts shut down the studio, and stop taking risks? Or will you be foolish enough to try this, and, quite likely, fail? I’m praying for a class of fools.

The more important question may be: if you do try, and especially if you do fail, will we be watching closely enough to take good counsel from your efforts? Will we see the light of the firefly in the dark and recognize what courage it takes, and follow your light? Will we ever admit that Disney is only the beginning, and that Pixar is just hinting gently at what could be? Will any of us, animators, producers, audiences, ever be willing to think of animation as something other than what it is or what it was, and instead be open to what it can be?

The late Jules Engles said of his students at CalArts “It’s not about what we give them, it’s about what we don’t take away from them.�? Sadly, it may well be that in allowing you – or any of us – to believe that Disney or Pixar or DreamWorks or Blue Sky or ILM or any other studio defines animation, we have taken something precious from you. For that, we are paying the ever-increasing price of stasis. In spite of the cry to return animation’s focus to story, and in spite of all the praise for brining back the traditions of the golden age – be it the first or second such era – we have moved very little since that time when, as Michael Barrier writes of Walt’s pre-war turning point, the mousetro “called a halt to artistic growth in the animated films released under his name, locking in place a limited, and limiting, conception of what character animation was capable of.�? I fear we’ve taken away any vision you held for animation being better.

In spite of that fear I believe, foolishly, that you have an opportunity to reinvent the industry, revitalize creative filmmaking in the most original medium American film has ever known. You also risk defaulting on your loans and living out of your car. Better to do both at age twenty-one than forty-four. Or even twenty-four. Not that I want you to default. I don’t. I just don’t want you to mistake the current standard for success as the greatest possible success available to you.

Finally, parents, before you fault your son or daughter for taking this risk, consider something told to me a few years back by a colleague. A young student who, nearing graduation from one of the many university film programs, was in absolute fear that they would not get a job with either Pixar or Disney or DreamWorks. When my colleague counseled them that they should not pin all their hopes on one of the big three, but be open to the many other possible opportunities with smaller boutique houses or studios, the student, near tears, informed them that their parents had “allowed�? them to study animation on the understanding that if they didn’t get a job with one of those studios after graduation, then they had to go to Law School and study for a “real job�?. Even more frightening was that this was a common dilemma for many young people to whom my friend had spoken. I keep wondering what good can possibly come from the constant expectation to succeed at the same pace with which one orders up a latte. If you believed in them for four years, surely you can muster as much while they fold a few sweaters at the GAP for a little while. (Trust me, the Disney swag they could send home is already not selling on eBay, and the bragging rights to a working artist have never held much sway socially.)

So, dear graduating Class of 2007 – and that includes interns in training programs who find themselves with or without offers to stay on at the various studios - you who are most afraid of what is in store for you I urge you to be foolish beyond all possible belief. In exchange, I have no money to offer, no facility in which you can produce your film, and no distributor with whom to connect you. But I do have endless hours of encouragement, and the greatest faith in your ability to take animation to places it has never gone before. And if you’re in town, I have something else you’ve been told didn’t exist – a free lunch. Any takers?

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