Jan 5, 2018

Uncovering the creative process of "negative space

In order to produce "Negative Space," a gorgeous stop-motion short about a father and son's joint ritual of perfectly packing suitcases, Lou Kwahata and Max Porter were forced, quite appropriately, to considerably improve their packing skills. They did so. The Baltimore-based animation duo relocated their entire operation no less than four times before completing the project in Vendôme, France.

Together, Kwahata and Porter make up Tiny Inventions, the animation studio behind Perfect Houseguest and Between Times, which won over 15 awards on the 2014-2015 film festival circuit.

The duo's latest film, currently a finalist for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in the Animated Short Film category at the 90th Academy Awards, was inspired by the prose poetry of Ron Koertge. The poem, which begins, "My father taught me to pack," was also used (with some modifications) in the script for Negative Space. Kuwabata was particularly drawn to the poem's story, recalling her own childhood and watching her father, a pilot, pack for a trip.

After about a year of development, during which Kuwabata and Porter nailed down the storyboards and began working on the sets and puppets, they traveled to France to complete the production. Kuwabata and Porter spent about half of the production period of "Between Times" in a residency at the Netherlands Animation Film Institute.

"I was always looking for a way to get back to Europe," Kuwahata said.

"I think in America, people tend to think of short films as a stepping stone to something else, or something you do in your spare time between commercial work or other kinds of work," Porter adds.

"We felt that short films were respected as their own entity in Europe, and we wanted to be part of that."

As expected, they succeeded in obtaining a number of grants in France, including a residency at Ciclic Animation in Vendôme. After teaming up with producer Ikki Films and co-producer Manuel Cam Studio, Kuwabata and Porter were awarded a grant to the Centre National du Cinéma et de l'Image Animée, an agency of the French Ministry of Culture. They applied for everything related to or offered by that institution.

"With or without support, we would have succeeded," says Porter, but thankfully, they eventually received financial backing from about 10 different sources, most of which were based in France.

Besides financial support, Kuwabata and Porter also enlisted the help of an outstanding team of artists, animators, and cinematographers.

"[Ikki Films'] producers Nydia Santiago and Edwina Liard connected us with the artists and technicians we would be working with on this project," Porter says. They had a really good eye for how animators and cinematographers would work well with our project."

The funding and co-production opportunities that the move to France brought were a dream come true, but the perks came at a price. First it was to Ikki Films in Orbigny, then to Manuel Cam in Aznières-sur-Seine, a suburb of Paris, and finally back to Ciclic to fulfill the requirements of the residency.

"I was very nervous about putting (the main doll) in the suitcase, so I decided to carry it with me. But I was really nervous that it would look like a little skeleton when I went through the (airport) security system," Kuwabata laughs. So I became obsessed with taking all the pieces apart so they wouldn't look suspicious."

The repeated disassembly, packing, and installation of materials was painful, the directors say, but their worries did not end there.

Three previous short films by Quahata and Porter were created using a hybrid digital/analog technique. The puppet's proportions," Porter says, "with its large head and small feet, could not stand on its own using conventional stop motion. We had to keep the rig attached to the puppet at all times, and we had to remove the entire rig in post-production, which created a lot of problems."

Kuwabata says it was worth it.

"In retrospect, however, it was really special to be able to experience the different places and living conditions in France."

With a running time of less than five minutes, "Negative Space" manages to pack quite a punch, both emotionally and visually. In one particularly mesmerizing scene, the contents of a suitcase move in and out of the frame like waves on a beach, engulfing the son and dragging him into the sea where his tie and pants swim like fish. Through careful planning and attention to detail, Mulhabata and Porter reaped very tangible emotional rewards.

"When the waves hit the shore and it was all clothing, we had to actually put plastic inside the clothes so that we could control the wrinkles and animate them," Porter explains. This was an early decision, because garments are more animated, more alive than people." People are a little cold, a little distant, but [father and son] can communicate through the expressiveness in the suitcase.

Careful consideration of scale was also crucial to their vision. In some cases, multiple sets had to be created for a single setting to enforce perspective. As when "the father is holding up the boy. We really pushed the sense that the father was a big part of his life," Porter says.

For inspiration, Kuwabata and Porter looked to the art of Yasujiro Ozu, Ron Mueck, and Gregory Crewdson, but avoided being influenced by anything during the project. Says Kuwabata, "I think it's very common in any production to spend seven years working on a short film and then keep adding or changing things to make yourself different." Says Kuwabata, "We tried not to let that happen, to stay true to our initial instincts and to trust our ideas in the beginning."

While "Negative Space" is specifically about a father-son relationship, the Tiny Inventions team created a film that encourages the audience to open up, again and again, about their own varied family experiences. After the film was completed, "probably the most gratifying part was when the audience came up to us and started talking about their own relationships with their parents. They tell us their darkest, deepest secrets," Kuwabata says. Says Kuwabata. 'It's interesting that people feel comfortable sharing their stories with us.'