This is what it would look like if there were Teddy Bear cannibals and they shrunk the heads of their enemies to make necklaces and such.

A couple years ago, I was at the office supply store when these Avery Matte White High Visibility Labels caught my eye:

You can imagine a pale, skinny, Edward Norton-looking graphic designer, sitting in a cubicle under florescent lighting, dreaming of punching his boss in the throat. But instead of founding a liposuction-fueled soap company, or a quasi-terrorist underground boxing league, this little culture jammer stuck it to the man by mixing a little mayhem into his package design assignment that the management wouldn’t likely notice right away.

Or actually, I like to think it happened like this…
It was all a big misunderstanding. Some employee of Avery, or their hired design house, got bored and sent out a humorous prank memo to the other designers:

Ha, ha, ha. Paper Street. Everyone in the studio had a good laugh and went about their day, continuing to design packaging with sample labels addressed to “Jane Jones.” Everyone, that is, except that one weird guy who sits in near the door and keeps track of how many donuts you took from the break room. You know that guy? He doesn’t get jokes. He takes everything literally and follows orders without question.

So off he went, dutifully obeying the memo and updating the design he was working on that morning. Two months later, to his surprise, the poor bastard gets canned for sabotaging Avery Dennison’s sterling reputation as a leader in paper solutions. (By God, they would not have their respectable company associated with the awful goings-on at Tyler’s place down on Paper Street!)

Today that graphic designer is bitter and unemployed, holed up in a basement somewhere, silently planning the destruction of Western Civilization. Tyler Durden, indeed.

That’s how I like to think it happened…

I came back a couple weeks later and these labels were gone. Did anyone else happen to notice this little exercise in design anarchy? I know this isn’t something I dreamed or hallucinated on a crack binge, because I have the photos.

Don’t you have a cartoon you’re supposed to be working on? Oh, wait. That’s me. Get back to work!

—- UPDATE! —-

Had I bothered to google this, I would have noticed that everyone in the world has already heard of it. It’s even in the Fight Club trivia at IMDB.

If you do a google search, you’ll find many, many mentions of this little prank. One person even speculated that the character was named after the paper labels. But the author of the original 1996 novel, Chuck Palahniuk, said the name came from a couple people he knew. And the Paper Street address has all kinds of wacky speculated meanings, including linking the two main characters to Puff the Magic Dragon and Jackie Paper.

Anyway, it’s likely the Avery labels came later. And obviously my prank memo hypothesis is still the most plausible explanation.

Seriously, now. Get the hell back to work.

I’m new at this blogging! Thanks in part to links from Cartoon Brew and The Disney Blog, there was some great feedback on the licensing rant from the other day. If it made anyone angry or hurt anyone’s feelings, do not worry! I wield as much influence in the animation industry as my dog wields in the United Nations. I’m just a fan thinking out loud, so don’t wet your pants. Go watch some cartoons.

Here are a few good points people brought up:

1. Stop saying Chris Harding is calling all licensing evil
There’s always a tension between art and commerce. In some cases it can run amok and made a mess out of good things. Still, I say there’s no way to argue that a diaper with a character’s face on it is a dignified presentation of that character. All we can argue about is whether it matters. Maybe it doesn’t.
As Amid Amidi at Cartoon Brew pointed out, “it’s something of a necessary evil, so the best thing is to just make sure it’s done well.” Right on. See how he said in one good sentence what I couldn’t say in 3 pages of raving? Now that’s blogging!

2. Easy for me to say!
The truth is I don’t know how I would react if someone wanted to back the money truck up to my house in exchange for the questionable use of my work. I can say that I have turned down licensing deals in the past, miniscule though they were, because they would have diminished the work. But lord knows I have also done some really awful things for money, whoring out my limited skills to make garbage. But that’s a whole different crime. Anyway, I grant that it’s easier for me to shoot my mouth off because I do not have a large peronal stake in this licensing game, other than a love of animation.

3. Disney Princesses
Three people pointed out that pulling six characters from six distinct worlds and lumping them together as the “Disney Princesses” is such a complete violation of their original context that the “illusion of life” is already ruined no matter what trinket you slap them on. Good point.

4. There is hope
We should give credit where it’s due and note that licensing weasels have so far resisted turning most characters into toilet paper, and sometimes piñatas. There are limits.

5. The strong survive
Some characters and studios manage to survive massive licensing campaigns. Peanuts, Pixar, The Simpsons, and Star Wars (thanks for the link, Jacob) come to mind. Others seem to collapse under the weight into expressionless black holes. Why?

Dr. Seuss’ work has been injured, perhaps because the movies are so much louder and more media-prominent than his books. He was reportedly uneasy about the Chuck Jones version of the Grinch. I imagine he’s curled up in the fetal position, weeping in his grave these days.

6. Things that should go without saying
It should go without saying that marketing people are not all weasels. A lot of people work really hard to make money for everyone involved in a creative business. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go without saying, because the ones who are weasels have made so much crap and so much noise that they’ve given the whole thing a bad reputation. Stop referring to characters and stories as “properties” if you want audiences to believe in them!

It should also go without saying that animation is a rich medium, capable of almost anything; that it’s not only for children; that it could be a vital, diverse art form. But that doesn’t go without saying either, maybe because few of us fans and artists get pissy enough about all the lost potential.

But to be fair to the business guys I was ripping the other day, most artists should not be in charge of their own checkbooks, let alone entire animation studios. If people like me ran the show, there would not be an animation industry at all. It would go out of business within 48 frames.

7. Licensing can be a force for good!
Sometimes licensing does a hell of a lot to support artists– like a band selling t-shirts while they tour. The Homestar Runner crew and Don Hertzfeldt, for example, make their living by selling merch on their websites. The merch makes the art possible, not the other way around.

Bigger studios also pretty much make their living the exact same way. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. Maybe it’s just a matter of quality, and artists having some control over their work.

8. Bill Watterson hates all mankind
Here is a quote from one email response:
“Watterston[sic] railed against pirated Tee shirts and that was his own fault. He knew the
demand and he witheld[sic] it from the public. That’s flipping the bird at one’s fans. Not nice. The people who rail the most against licensing are those who’ve failed at it…”

I know this is a common sentiment, but think about it. A man works his ass off for ten years, holds himself to impossibly high standards of quality, and produces one of the greatest comic strips in history. People offer him tens of millions of dollars to put his characters on t-shirts and boxer shorts, because they want a piece of the action. He resists incredible pressure from collectors and his syndicate (who went along with his wishes, to their great credit) and turns down these deals.

What would motivate a man, not just to turn down 8 figures, but to fight tooth and nail for ten years to turn it down? It was his way of saying “F You” to the fans? Are you joking? Sit down for one minute and really try to imagine why a man with these opportunities would choose to resist them. What did he value more than vast wealth?

Forty years from now, Bill Watterson will still be rich from his publishing royalties, Jim Davis will still be obscenely rich from his licensing royalties, and people will still be reading and laughing at Calvin & Hobbes in its original context while they sit on their Garfield Brand toilet seat covers and clean themselves up with Disney Princess shit paper.

The preceding was an old Jedi mind trick, known as being deliberately provocative. Obviously, not everyone is in a position to take a purist stance like that. Nor would everyone necessarily want to. It should be up to the artist.

A few years ago, John Densmore, drummer from The Doors, wrote an article about the difficulty in resisting lucrative licensing deals, and tried to explain his reasons for doing so:

“People lost their virginity to this music, got high for the first time to this music,” Densmore said. “I’ve had people say kids died in Vietnam listening to this music, other people say they know someone who didn’t commit suicide because of this music…. On stage, when we played these songs, they felt mysterious and magic. That’s not for rent.”

We don’t tend to think of cartoons this way. But maybe we could in some cases. Sure we gotta make a living, but there might also be rare occasions when we can afford to be choosy– even unreasonable– about what we do with our work.

9. Shut up already
I should shut up and go do something constructive.

10. Confession
I stole a phrase in the original rant (”to rot and stink in the nostrils of posterity”) from Ben Franklin.

Read the original rant here.

Animate: verb “to give life to… to give vigor and zest to… to make or design in such a way as to create apparently spontaneous lifelike movement…”

What’s so hard about animation? All you gotta do is sit down and make 20 million drawings that work together to create the illusion of life. Easy. Ha, ha. Ok, it’s really hard. You have to be God, one 24th of a second at a time. But the real difficulty doesn’t begin until you try to mix money into the picture. Because not even God can control marketing weasels.

A while back Bill Watterson described an exhausting battle with his syndicate over character licensing. I did a strip for the same syndicate (sadly, not a successful one) and I know the people there. They’re good people. But it’s still dangerous for the creator. What’s so bad about making a little merch? Nothing. I’m as big a whore as the next guy. Money from licensing deals is what supports the studios and allows people to spend time making these things in the first place.

But here’s one of many things I imagine ol’ Bill was fighting: If you don’t maintain tight control over your creations, the marketing weasels lose all sense of perspective, become self-destructive, pee in their own water dish, and take your work down with them. And monitoring them is a full-time job that can really eat into your creative time.

Here’s how it works: You spend all your energy and passion, and it almost kills you, but somehow you manage to breathe a tiny bit of life into a character… your baby. Then some genius comes along and– cha-ching– sells the rights to print that character’s face on a napkin. That people wipe their food on. On your character’s face. That you worked so hard to breathe life into. Chocolate cake and filth all over their face. How disrespectful. It shows contempt for the very idea of a character, because they only exist where we put them. It only makes sense if your goal is to just cash out, leaving behind the husks of other peoples’ once lively creations to rot and stink in the nostrils of posterity.

(These photos might be poor examples. Some of these particular characters were created by committees specifically to have their faces on napkins… but you get the point. The animators that worked on them surely saw them as alive in some way. They had to.)

There’s a great chapter in the book, Dr. Seuss: American Icon, that describes his licensing troubles. Not to mention the abominations that have been made in his name since he died. They have a Cat in the Hat book with pictures of Mike Myers, instead of the original illustrations! I can’t even type that without throwing up in the back of my mouth. Those characters have now been polluted and corrupted. And in the long run, it’s not even good marketing, because they shittied the very product they were trying to milk. Kids aren’t going to have fond memories of that crap, so no one is going to buy it in the future. Way to go. Is shittied a word?

Mickey Mouse is a logo. The Looney Tunes characters are mummified. They’re not in real films or books anymore. They don’t take risks, say controversial things, feel joy, fear, pride, envy… They decorate sweatshirts, grinning and staring, numb and stiff, careful not to offend. It’s a wax museum for cartoon characters.

Doesn’t it seem like there is an inherent contradiction between the very definition of animation– giving life, vigor and zest– and plastering a character’s mug on disposable and absorbant sanitary products?

How about diapers?! We get the kids started at a young age. By the time they get older and have money to spend, they’ll already have fond associations with our characters!

Hey, that’s Winnie the Pooh! I remember him! I used to shit on his face!

Obviously, most of you marketing folks are not weasels (you know who you are). And the problem isn’t napkins and diapers. These examples are just symbolic. There’s nothing wrong with a souvenir. Maybe it’s just a matter of balance.

The very least we should expect as fans and artists is that the licensing stop recklessly undermining the art. This is well-worn territory. The cart is before the horse when merchandise becomes the one and only goal, films and books are only made to sell products, and people who don’t care about stories are in charge of stories. They don’t see the characters as alive– it’s not their job, nor should it be. Their job is to see “napkin opportunities” and “potential diaper impression franchises.” Not to be overly dramatic about it, but it’s ruining everything.

UPDATE: Since there was some great feedback on this rant, a follow-up has been posted here!

Please remember that all proceeds from the shop go to the Chris Harding Animal Concern Foundation™ for helping the poor, pathetic animals that Chris Harding makes up in his head.

Peacoctopus:

Rhinostrich:

Roundsnake:

Hippopossumus:

Girant:

Here’s how every interview with every athlete in the history of sports should go:

Sports Reporter: “Heck of a game/match/race! How did you win that game/race/match?”

Athlete: “Well, I was born with a certain genetic potential for this. I worked really, really, really hard and sweated and bled every single day of my whole life to become great. Look at me– I have the brain of a 9 year old. I gave up everything. Today I somehow had enough strength and luck to beat my opponent, who has struggled just as hard. How do you think I did it, asshole? …Hi, Mom!”

Ah, sports reporting.

We are drowning in commentary. Nothing is left to speak for itself. We gotta know what everybody’s doing and how they’re doing it. We gotta get behind the scenes! And most of the time, the secret is very boring: the people who do good work just work really $%&*! hard.

DVDs come with “14 HOURS of extra bonus features!” and commentary tracks. 97% of it is pure, old-fashioned marketing horse shit. (where else in life would you ever hear the word “bonus?”) The rest– the earnest 3%– still tends to be vicarious for the audience, and self-congratulatory for the artists. Hey, how did you make that there movie? As if there were an answer that could be imparted in ninety minutes.

Hi, I’m the director. Welcome to my contractually obligated commentary track. When all the other kids were out playing, I was putting on plays and reading Russian film theory. I poured everything I had into this project for eight years and went broke and got a divorce and my children don’t remember who I am, but the movie came out pretty good thanks to my incredible genius. (until the studio hired a passionless hack to re-cut it with a happy ending, on the recommendation of an out-of-work focus group). Do all that and you can make one too. Oh, and also you’ll need $27 million. ¡Via con dios!

Still, it’s endlessly fascinating to find out how things are made and what artists are thinking. And context really does matter. (Was that play performed under threat of a blacklist? When you yelled, “Screw The Man!” were you in the elevator with your boss, or alone in your car?) But that’s a whole separate exercise from appreciating the work itself.

Beethoven was pretty much deaf when he composed his 9th symphony. But knowing this incredible fact has absolutely zero effect on the way that orgasmic climax in the fourth movement hits your brain stem. When you’re making ze love, you’re not thinking about ze organic chemistry that makes it possible. And if the experience of one of the greatest works of art in history is not enhanced by its own amazing behind-the-scenes story, how much worse is it to endure the commentary on all our lesser little “gems?” Is our commentary just a crutch for weak work?

“Did you like my movie?”

“No, it was pretty bad. It didn’t move me.”

“But I made it under difficult circumstances! My car broke down and it was raining and I ran up my credit card debt! And you probably didn’t notice, because it isn’t communicated in the film, but it’s a witty critique on the injustice of our modern society. Plus, look how cool I dress.”

“Ah! Well, why didn’t you say so?”

…uncomfortable silence…

“So, now do you like it?”

Which brings us to my new Production Log! It won’t make the cartoons better. It’s already boring you half to death. Laurie Anderson said, “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” Which would make writing about animation like, uh, miming about… needlepoint… And yet we persist!

Anyway, even when you’re small potatoes you have to make an effort to take this stuff a little seriously. Having a place to post progress reports and angry thoughts might help me keep things moving, production-wise. And I like the idea of having a record of all this to look back on.

The real question is, why do it in public? For attention? Does everything have to boil down to marketing horse shit? Yes it does. Could anything be more self-indulgent than a windy rant on “commentary” from an amateur animator? You want a peek into the creative soul of another cartoonist? Really?? Well, here we go!

Welcome to my contractually obligated Production Log, friend! Come back often! More pictures, fewer words next time. ¡Via con dios!