with feature-length motion pictures. Taylor is reportedly hard at work on a film

  called DREAMER for Paramount. In advertising, two of the biggest film companies

  have made a major commitment to computer graphics. Robert Abel in

  Hollywood--long renowned for the beautiful combinations of live action and

  back-lit animation in his Levi's and Seven-Up commercials--assembled a computer

  graphics division while assigned to do special effects for STAR TREK: THE MOTION

  PICTURE. Unlike Digital Productions, however, Abel kept all his other special

  effects techniques, considering computer graphics as another tool, not an end in

  itself. "A lot of the stuff we do is combination," Abel explains, "where we

  combine miniatures and live action with computer images." Pure computer

  animation, at present, is more expensive than many other techniques, and in

  Abel's view, flexibility and variety are necessary to the production of

  commercial advertising films.

  Bo Gehring, in charge of Bo Gehring Associates in Venice, California, originally

  came to the west coast to do computer animation tests for Steven Spielberg's

  CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND. The tests proved unsatisfactory but Gehring

  stayed on to found his own company--again, with a complete spectrum of

  techniques at his disposal. Unlike Abel, who began as a documentary film maker,

  Gehring's roots are in computer graphics, but he agrees with Abel that

  commitment to one technique is risky. As for getting involved in feature films:

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  "Ninety million dollars is spent each day on advertising in the United States,"

  Gehring says. "Feature films can't begin to match that level of financing. I'm

  secure where I am."

  Both Gehring and Abel believe that computer graphics is still in its infancy,

  and will probably have a major effect on all forms of visual communication. For

  the moment, however, neither is willing to make the leap of faith required for

  an operation such as that being conducted at Digital Productions. And

  truthfully, Gehring admits that his financial backing is not equal to Digital

  Productions', which is supported by Ramtek, a major computer company. "I am a

  bit envious of what John Whitney Jr. and Gary Demos have come into at

  Digital--all that [computing] power. But I'm happy with my situation, and just

  can't see taking that kind of risk right now."

  Gehring also expresses an interest in digital sound synthesis. "I'm one of those

  people who has to pull off the road when something really intriguing comes on

  the car radio. I firmly believe that sound is at least the equal of sight in

  bandwidth-- complexity of information--and synthetic sound is a fascinating area

  that's barely been explored." Another of the Big Three companies, R. Greenberg

  in New York, is rapidly building its computer graphics division.

  Computers have revolutionized the film industry in many more ways than computer

  graphics. Virtually all commercial studios, whether producing advertising or

  feature films, use computers to control complex camera movements or integrate

  different elements of photography. At Robert Abel, slit-scan photography is a

  staple item. The process was originally developed by Con Pedersen and Douglas

  Trumbull while working for Stanley Kubrick on 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. Pedersen

  now works at Abel, where he supervises other aspects of special effects

  production, including computer graphics. (Trumbull, interestingly, seems to

  eschew full computer animation. In his recent film BRAINSTORM, even sequences

  which appeared to be computer-generated were done using other techniques.)

  In slit-scan, a camera is mounted at the end of a long track, at the opposite

  end of which a piece of flat artwork is masked to reveal only a narrow

  horizontal slit. As the camera moves forward very slowly, a computer coordinates

  the motion of the slit up or down on the artwork. The result is a drawn-out

  image of the artwork, stretched in perspective by the camera's approach.

  Computers are also responsible for the many forms of motion-control used to

  photograph space battles at Lucasfilm and elsewhere. Signals from a camera mount

  are fed into a computer, which memorizes the camera positions and can then

  control the camera for repeated passes. Different models, mattes and other

  special effects elements can be added with great precision.

  Computers are even involved in stop-motion puppet animation at Industrial Light

  and Magic. The "Go-Motion" computerized system was used in DRAGONSLAYER to

  memorize the motions of an armatured miniature dragon as it was manually "walked

  through" its sequences.

  All these elaborations--from slit-scan to Go-Motion puppet animation--are likely

  to become passe, before the end of the century. Whatever the risks, Digital

  Productions is obviously where the field is moving. But computers have one major

  hurdle to leap before they dominate. Character animation--whether it be the

  fluid motions of a Disney cel-animated deer, or a human being--is still very

  difficult for computers. Computers are happiest when dealing with shapes defined

  by simple mathematics--planes in perspective, spheres, cones, polygons and

  polyhedrons. Humans (not to mention Bambi or dragons) are not composed of these

  objects, at least not at first glance. Living characters are lumpy, bumpy and in

  constant motion--all parts of them. Muscles shift beneath skin and skeletal

  angles change. Facial expression is a nightmare of complexity, with hundreds of

  muscles providing a bewildering variety of shapes--all of them familiar to the

  viewer, and therefore difficult to fake convincingly.

  For the artist, years of study are required to convincingly replicate human and

  animal shapes. The human mind is enormously more complicated than any modern

  computer, with millions of "algorithms" all smoothly blending in unconscious

  processes. How can a computer hope to match the work of a skilled cartoon

  animator, much less the reality of a human being?

  Tim Heidmann, at R&B EFX in Glendale, believes character animation is the

  stumbling block of computer graphics. "When you think of all the expertise

  required to get a Disney- type character on film--including the distortion of

  reality, stretching characters to add life, exaggerating expressions--the

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  problem seems insurmountable." Heidmann does computer graphics for R&B EFX using

  a much smaller Hewlett-Packard business computer. The HP manipulates wireframe

  images which are then photographed and enhanced by hand in R&B's own small

  animation studio. The entire system cost under $25,000, "What computers do

  best," he explains, "is what human animators do with the most

  difficulty--changing perspective, drawing geometric shapes. And what humans do

  best is most difficult for computers--especially a small system like ours:

  coloring, shading, characters." R&B combines the two with ingenuity instead of

  massive number- crunching.

  Digital Productions is hard at work using both ingenuity and brute computing

  power to overcome the difficulties of animating characters in a computer. Most

&nbsp
; of this work is under tight wraps of security, but it appears they are building

  up human and human-like figures by creating "intelligent shapes" which will

  mimic muscles on fixed skeletal frames. These "intelligent shapes" will be

  programmed to interact with other shapes--other muscles--around a skeleton,

  within the constraints of skin.

  Motion studies of animals and humans are programmed into their machines to give

  them parameters within which to work. Ron Cobb explains: "A computer doesn't

  know where to stop. If you have a character's arm swinging, the arm in the

  machine isn't real. It doesn't have an elbow or a shoulder to stop it. It just

  keeps swinging in a circle until you tell it what the limits are. Then it has

  the limits in memory, but you have to be very specific, very careful."

  The computer cannot intuit anything. It is literal. Everything must be described

  in detail. Consequently, the computing capacity and time required to control

  these figures will be enormous--at first. But the cost of the early stages in

  labor and money can be compared to research and development costs in any

  industry. The initial outlay is always greater than the cost of later work.

  One small hint of the coming revolution is provided by the locations of two

  major companies relying on computer graphics. Cranston-Csuri, founded by pioneer

  computer artist Charles A. Csuri, is located in Columbus, Ohio. Computer

  Creations takes pride in being based in South Bend, Indiana--far from the

  advertising capitols of New York and Los Angeles. Electronics can deliver

  messages and products around the world; in the future, location will be less and

  less important.

  Size will also become less important. With computers, a commercial studio can

  begin operations with only a handful of creative people. Pacific Data Images, in

  Sunnyvale, California, has only four employees, yet has already landed major

  advertising and promotional contracts. With initial costs of less than a million

  dollars, entrepreneurs like PDI's Carl Rosendahl are already taking advantage of

  the built-in flexibility of the computer. Costs are dropping, and software is

  improving, albeit more slowly than hardware. Within ten years, the big

  advertising companies will be surrounded by smaller, tougher firms with equal

  capabilities. The bottom line will then be not money, but creativity. There is

  no lack of creativity. The computer images and motion pictures produced by

  artists around the world are dizzying in variety and quantity. California's

  David Em is well known for his architectural fantasies and abstractions. Paul

  Allen Newell has animated M.C. Escher-inspired tesselated designs that transform

  with enchanting smoothness and precision.

  Nancy Burson of New York (profiled in OMNI, "The Arts," June 1983) uses

  computers to digitally combine photographic images of people and animals. She

  was responsible for the portrait of Big Brother commissioned for CBS's tribute

  to Orwell's 1984. By digitizing and melding the portraits of the twentieth

  century's worst tyrants, she came up with a hauntingly familiar, somehow

  benevolent and yet very unsettling hybrid. Much more charming is her mix of

  woman and cat.

  Em, Burson and Newell highlight the successes and problems of presenting

  computer graphics on the printed page. Em's and Burson's images are static,

  suitable for magazine reproduction, but the charm of Newell's work lies in

  motion.

  Even more difficult to convey is the wonder of a live computer art performance,

  where performer and audience are one. Ed Tannenbaum of Raster Master in San

  Francisco has installed a performance art center in his city's public-access

  science center, Exploratorium. A video camera photographs people in a room as

  they move about and then feeds their images to a computer. The result is

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  projected in real-time (that is, live) on a large screen, allowing infinite

  varieties of human-machine artwork. Children can dance and paint with their

  bodies, becoming their own kaleidoscopes.

  Educators inevitably become more involved with computer graphics as classroom

  computers proliferate. Simple graphics programs can teach even very young

  children how to work (and play) with computers. Today's youngsters will find

  computers and computer art a part of their lives. This is where the revolution

  truly becomes powerful.

  In one or two decades, at the present rate of progress, computers cheap enough

  for home use will be capable of graphics even more sophisticated than those

  being produced by today's major studios. Graphics buffs will be creating,

  trading and selling programs to generate different kinds of images--including

  images of realistic characters.

  Eventually, perhaps by the end of this century, a kind of visual typewriter will

  be possible. Any scene the programmer/artist/writer can imagine, will be brought

  to life using computer animation. As software and hardware advance and become

  cheaper, and as information and image networks expand, virtually anybody can

  become a Cecil B. De Mille. The major requirements will be time and talent--not

  money.

  The greatest handicap to cinema at the moment is the dominance of accounting

  over creativity. Faced with budgets of tens of millions of dollars, studio

  executives are justifiably concerned that their products should appeal to large

  numbers of people. The result is often pabulum. Primary creativity is endlessly

  ignored or second-guessed.

  Commercial television networks are even more handicapped; to satisfy

  advertisers, incredible numbers of people must tune in to their programs. Few

  artists or writers have ever made anything worthwhile by pandering to the lowest

  common denominator, yet this is the current state of most of network television.

  The printed word allows more freedom. A pencil and a piece of paper are all that

  is required for expression in print. The production of a book is measured in

  tens of thousands of dollars for an average press run, not millions.

  Publishing--for the moment--still allows a great many writers to create personal

  works. A writer can establish a reputation with only a few hundred or a few

  thousand steady readers.

  Yet only ten to twenty percent of Americans regularly read books. Newspapers and

  magazines fare better--but less than half of all Americans receive any of their

  information from the printed word. What we have is a colossal failure of a

  communications medium--print--to reach the masses.

  For many people, print is difficult to assimilate. It has many uses and

  advantages, but often it cannot convey information as quickly and efficiently as

  other media.

  The dilemma is clear. Print offers diversity and individual expression--as well

  as the active participation of the reader, in imagining and fleshing out what

  the words convey--but cannot reach as many people as television or motion

  pictures.

  Television and motion pictures appeal to the masses, but more often than not

  spoon-feed pabulum to a barely conscious viewer.

  By combining both print and vision, computers will break the money
monopoly and

  allow many more people to work with "pictorial narratives," a catch-all phrase

  for the multitude of art forms which will inevitably develop.

  Robert Abel sees a future society with individuals becoming more and more

  isolated, physically, as the electronics revolution allows them to work at home.

  With increasingly sophisticated entertainment forms, there will be less need to

  leave home for recreation. With more leisure time, the public will demand more

  entertainment. And with more artists able to produce complicated pictorial

  narratives, the demand could well be met with an explosion of creativity--if the

  audience isn't already conditioned to textureless drivel. If it isn't too late

  even now...

  Take a deep breath.

  We're going to enter a possible future, and it will take some effort to get used

  to it.

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  Bear, Greg - The Machineries of Joy.txt

  You're on a street. A woman approaches you. She appears to be wearing a jungle.

  You stare in amazement as she passes; to a distance of about six inches, all

  around her, you can see gnarled trees, vines and creepers, exotic birds, even a

  leopard lying in wait.

  She walks along a wall and the building suddenly smiles at her--the entire wall

  one massive pair of lips in three dimensions. "Good morning, Miss Andrews," it

  says. "How may we serve you today? Shopping for apparel, or just out for a

  stroll?" AdWalls are formal and slightly stodgy by design. Virtually everyone is

  known, on sight, by ad companies who use computers to target not just groups of

  consumers but individuals.

  The woman pays no attention and continues on. The smile disintegrates into a

  flight of wildly colored butterflies as you approach.

  "Distinguished sir," the AdWall says. Butterflies flitter around you. "I don't

  have your name in memory at this moment. How may Freepic serve you today?"

  You mumble something about wanting to find a computer store.

  "Chips'n'discs, the city's oldest computer store, lies but two blocks away." A

  map appears in front of your face, then transforms into a speeded-up visual

  tour. You see yourself walking two blocks south, turning left, and entering the

  store. The image ends with a large-scale projection of the storefront. Symbols

  conveying hours of business, product lines available, and even clerk's faces are