Kelly Gallagher

Then once I’m at the production stage and ready to animate, I am very much a “straight ahead” animator which means that I kind of throw the pieces down and just see where they take me. I usually don’t have the actual animations planned out—rather I just put down the cut-outs in front of the camera and then see how they inspire me and in what ways they move best. The animation stage can of course take a while, but I find that it’s really joyful and cathartic work. I love getting to work with my hands in such a tactile mode of production. And really, there’s nothing better then getting to make movies at home in your PJs!

Once the animation is finished, it’s time for post-production. I always wait to do sound design until I have a picture lock. Usually I start gathering sounds and thinking about sound design ahead of reaching the editing stage (in fact I encourage folks to think about sound design during pre-production!), but I don’t really dive in fully until I know that I’m at picture lock. Usually the hardest part of editing is simply piecing together the story as best as possible through text and/or narration. So there’s a lot of fine tuning my writing at this stage, and sometimes working with a narrator or sometimes just preparing text slides.

E: How long does it usually take you to finish an animated short?

K: This is a great question, and I hate to say this but it really depends. For example, Herstory, which is 14.5 minutes, took about 7 months. My film Pearl Pistols, about Queen Mother Moore, took only about 3 weeks at 3 minutes. Some films just happen really quickly and others take much longer. Generally though, I can comfortably animate about a minute per week. I’ve animated more per week when I’ve needed to or am in a serious crunch, but a minute per week is comfortable. However, that doesn’t mean I can animate a minute per week every week for months in a row, because the process is fairly physically taxing. Animating stop-motion is really physical and can be taxing on the back, neck, and shoulders. (I try to make sure I get a back massage after every film I finish!) In general though, I find that cut-out animation moves much more quickly for me personally than traditional hand-drawn or digital-drawn animation.

E: What kind of physical space do you work in when brainstorming or making these films?

K: One of the upsides to living in southwest Ohio is that rent is cheap. So I had a big extra room in my home that I was able to make my studio, which has been really nice. I thoroughly enjoy working at home (especially because I find that when I animate, I become a real night owl!) I think though that anyone interested in cut-out animation can make it work for them at home, no matter what kind of space they do or do not have. For example when I was making Herstory, and sharing a small apartment with 2 college roommates, they were kind enough to let me take a corner of our living room and just make it my little animation corner. All I needed was a small table and place to put my camera and tripod. I think at the time I stored my craft and paper supplies under my bed. That’s what’s great about handcrafted animation- it’s a mode of filmmaking that I find is incredibly accessible and feasible for many people. You don’t need a sound stage, you don’t need a film crew, you don’t need big budgets. You just need a camera and your own little animation corner.

E: Does collage as a medium feel like a radical art form to you?

K: Collage does feel like a radical art form to me because a collage is a really honest image – it makes clear its process of mediation and where its edits and cuts are. When we look at a collage we see and understand its construction. So many other kinds of images can be deceitful or not give us the whole truth about how it was mediated, how it came to be. But a collage is honest about the fact that it’s an image that has been constructed. I also think collage is powerful because you can bring together seemingly disparate elements and then highlight their hidden similarities or draw out new meanings.

E: Your work has the ongoing themes of retelling lost histories of radical figures such as Marilyn Buck, Lucy Gonzales, Fred Hampton, and Alice Guy-Blache along with all the other female filmmakers... They definitely weren’t mentioned in the history textbooks I grew up with, so it makes me so happy you can create an homage to these amazing figures. What makes you pick out these specific figures? Why Marilyn, why Lucy?

K: I love this question because I think the answer is in it! Exactly what you mention: these folks weren’t in the history textbooks that I grew up with either, and so I found that so frustrating. Our history textbooks in this country are so whitewashed, sexist, and racist. I think the people who have made some of the most important contributions to struggles of liberation are usually written out of mainstream texts, so I am invested in the work of animating their stories and bringing their work back to life because their legacies are so imperative. The word “animate” comes from the latin “animare” which literally means “to bring to life, to impart breath.” So I think animation is an especially powerful space to resurrect, to bring back to life, overlooked histories and stories of revolutionaries.

E: In your work “Ceallaigh in Kilmainham,’ you talk about revisiting the place where you have heritage. In the video, you talk about what your name means in Gaelic, which is “Brave Warrior Woman,” and that your mother’s name meant “Pregnant Mother Goddess,” and at the same time you are talking to your mom about this and the connections between the women in your family. I want to ask you about the interconnectedness of inherited trauma, illness, or personality aspects that are passed down from generation to generation. How are those ideas connected to your expression of radicalism, and womanhood in your films and what do you think about those ideas in general?

K: The term “radical” means relating to the fundamental nature of something- and so I think that exploring family history can be a radical act because it involves excavating and exploring the lives of folks whose experiences and stories have led to ours. I think it’s especially powerful when women explore the lives of other women in their family and familial history for a myriad of reasons. (One very powerful example of this is Signe Baumane’s very beautiful feature animation, Rocks in My Pockets.) For me, in my film, Ceallaigh at Kilmainham, connecting with my mom about the very nature of the difficult circumstances within which women came to be in our family (my mom was adopted since her parents were having trouble conceiving, and then before I was born my mom was really sick for awhile during her pregnancy), was a powerful act in exploring the incredible will, love, and desire of women in our family.

E: Going off from the last question -- You have two film works that talk about your relations to your family members; one with your mother, and one with your father and his brother. How do you go about trying to uncover the mysteries and stories of the undocumented past of your family? Is it a difficult thing to do?

K: It can certainly be difficult to unearth and discuss previously undocumented and under-discussed parts of family history. I always make sure to have the full consent of family when making films like these, because we’re a very close family and I deeply love and respect them. For me, making films like Photographs From My Father, and Ceallaigh at Kilmainham, were projects whose making felt simultaneously therapeutic and powerful. It felt good to have this specific space and purpose to discuss aspects of our lives that otherwise felt difficult to explore. In a way, the making of these films created this needed space to be able to talk about these things more easily and openly.

E: You often bring up the themes of political change only being made if conversation and information is accessible to the working class. Is the way you share your work intertwined to that kind of accessibility?

K: I definitely believe that radical art should be radically accessible. And I do think this plays a big role in the reason that my films are all online, free and accessible to anyone who may want to watch or share them. I believe both that artists should be paid for their labor and time, and also that artwork should be freely accessible to the masses. I am also against the commodification of art to begin with, in that I am against capitalism altogether and I think that enjoying art should be accessible to everyone, regardless of class and financial means. I understand and fully support filmmakers who have more traditional modes of distribution. But I am happy and able to make my works available online, and I firmly believe in the politics of a more radical accessibility, especially when the work is exploring radical politics, themes, and histories. I think we often have this incorrect notion that exclusivity equals rigor. I like to challenge that because I think more inclusivity and accessibility to art actually cultivates a more creative society. The beauty of cinema is that it’s inherently reproducible and shareable (like Walter Benjamin discussed), and so it’s this art form that has the ability to be so easily shared and easily accessed by everyone.

E: All of your films are so moving and incredible. I appreciate all the accessibility you give to all these radical stories. How do you feel about having radical ideas become more digestible to to mainstream audiences? Is that the intention you have when you make your work? If so, is that idea intertwined into the aesthetics of your films?

K: I actually never think of my films as making radical histories more “digestible,” rather my intent is always to make things more accessible. I think handcrafted animation is a radical aesthetic for two main reasons. For one, handmade animation makes visible the labor behind its production. For example, when we see a Claymation movie, we often wonder how long it took to make. Handmade animations call attention to the fact that people were behind their making. When you see one of my animations you can see where the scissors cut paper and the fact that a person was behind these pieces moving them around. And so, handcrafted animation makes the labor of the artist visible and understandable. Secondly, handmade animation demystifies its process of production to an audience, thereby making it a more accessible mode of making for viewers who may be interested. For example, when I was in college and interested in animation but had no access to animation classes in my major, I just watched the cut-out animations of Terry Gilliam. Simply by watching his cut-outs move on screen, I was able to understand the process of how to make a cut-out animation myself. The process of how his animation was made, was inherently visible and understandable in the animation itself. So I believe handcrafted animation is a radical aesthetic because (1) it calls attention to the labor of the artist, and (2) it’s an accessible mode of animation because it inherently demystifies its process of making, thereby inviting viewers to feel empowered to be able to try it themselves should they want.

E: How do you sustain making films as a career without compromising your work and politics?

K: For me, it worked out well that I wanted to be a media arts professor because that has really allowed me the time and financial support to be able to make the films I want to make. Between my undergrad and graduate schooling, I worked for a couple years as a union organizer. It was an incredible job, but trying to sustain a filmmaking practice was impossible. Honestly, I think this is a journey that looks different for all filmmakers. And I think it’s important to allow yourself to try out different life and work paths and see what clicks and what works best for you and your own filmmaking practice. For me, getting to teach film and animation to incredible college students has been my greatest joy and has created an environment (with its time and resources) in which my filmmaking practice has really been able to thrive.

E: What are some inspirations you take from both mainstream and smaller subculture filmmaking? Who are your heroes?

K: My greatest filmmaking hero and mentor is Martha Colburn. She makes truly incredible and powerful political collage animations and films. After college, I had the privilege of working as her assistant and she really taught me more about filmmaking and animation than four years of college combined. I strongly recommend her work to everyone interested in experimental animation. Other inspirations for me are really the overlooked political heroes and revolutionaries that are featured in my films: Marilyn Buck, Assata Shakur, John Brown, Lucy Parsons.

E: What advice would you give to young filmmakers who want to make careers out of their radical art?

K: I think my greatest advice to young artists making radical art is always: don’t give up. Don’t stop. We need more revolutionary films, more films for liberation, more films exploring struggle, especially now. Remember in the darkest and most difficult moments that your voice and your works are important. My other favorite general life advice is the famous “fake it ‘til you make it.” Honestly that advice has always served me extremely well.

For more information about Kelly Gallagher visit her website: purpleriot.com