Ben Barrett-Forrest has constructed a charming introduction to the field of typography. This topic, which over the years has enthralled a certain type of graphic designer, has also left the rest of us puzzled as to what all the fuss was about.
Forrest’s short educational film provides a carefully measured level of insight; not so much detail that a newcomer to the field feels overwhelmed but enough substance to make them appreciate they are learning something.
As Ben is the only name credited in the film it is fairly safe to assume this was a solo experience. Whilst the cut out paper technique employed is engaging in its simplicity, the addition of pixillated hands certainly must have complicated the production process. The result being the film exists just beyond what one could imagine achieving single-handed.
‘The History of Typography’ has functioned as a promotional tool for Forrest Media, Ben Barrett-Forrest’s graphic design practice. The animation has received over 500 000 views on Youtube and a further 74 000 on Vimeo, as well as being featured on mainstream North American online media. It is rewarding to see how independent animation can function as a vehicle to generate business in this way.
This is a story constructed from second-hand accounts of a phenomenal occurrence where a trapped whale seemed to express gratitude to its rescuers. The true account is condensed into the narrative of a single fisherman’s efforts to free the entangled creature.
Scenes are painted and repainted on a wall in Seattle’s Cal Anderson Park. Most noticeably this technique restricts motion; carefully composed images are constructed and then adjusted. A second feature is the presence of residual marks, also noticeable in the works of animators such as William Kentridge and Blu.
This is where an image is adjusted rather than replaced and attempts are made to mask previous drawing, although this is never fully erased. As a result the filmmaker must embrace, accept or incorporate the traces left behind. Particularly interesting marks are created when water is used, presumably to wash away previous layers of paint, resulting in a dilution and dribbling effect,suggesting an underwater environment.
The film is filled with broken illusions; a pixillated actor gestures swimming while mounted on top of a stepladder. Our disbelief is suspended by a mere thread, but half of the charm of this film is the inclusion of such mechanisms. Unlike some more technically complex animations, here we are provided with evidence as to how the scenes were constructed. For example, we are made aware of the filmmaker’s surroundings where the grass and the unpainted wall are visible at the edge of the frame.
Tess Martin draws attention to the frame presumably because she felt process was as important as narrative. This is further indicated by the choice to include a link to a making-of time lapse film.
We are thrilled that Charlotte Kaye has also joined our team and she will be guest blogging later this week.
Charlotte’s latest film is a stop-motion piece about the disorientation of insomnia. It was filmed entirely at night in her bedroom and each component is a true obsessive ritual that keeps her awake. It illustrates the uncertainty of the life in inanimate objects experienced during the animating process – a feeling that that is heightened with sleep deprivation.