ANIMARTES
Animated short films are one of the biggest romances of my life, and animation is one of the most interesting genres that I have had access to. Almost by definition, animation destabilizes all the certainties we have about reality: what is alive and what is not, what moves and what doesn't, what has a soul or conscience or however you want to name it and what doesn't. Defining animation is almost impossible. Few genres are as experimental, and few genres are as fun. Thanks to Karla Castro's invitation, I had the opportunity to curate/program 27 thematic sessions of animation shorts at the Tonalá Cinema in Tijuana, where, in addition, I could comment on the films while knocking back my courtesy drinks. Here is a list (description included) of the 27 Animartes. And here is a link with (almost) all the animations that have an image in the following list.
ANIMARTES NO MORE
July, 2019.
During two years, we have screened 364 animated shorts in 27 Animartes. This is the last one: just the favorites. So no more crowds in a room. No more lyrics dancing. No more butchers with poor aim or endless ladders. No more kisses, no hats, no recycling, no techno-capitalist assemblages, no Bambi, no Godzilla, no hardcore, no drugs, no shit, no magic, no blood, no Pook. No more!
ANIMARIES ALL-STARS
May, 2019.
Let's be rational. Animartes is dying. After showing 347 animated shorts at 24 Animartes, it's time to do the math. This Animartes All-Stars is reserved for the best animation of the directors that have been programmed the most. The cream and cream, then. The best of the best. Pure gem. Pure genius. Pure classic.
MIXTAPE ANIMARTES
March, 2019.
BASIC INGREDIENTS OF THE FOLLOWING ANIMALS: Tips for the young artist. Dad is dead. I have no idea what I want. How to use the copier in the office. Rehabilitate a dream. One (of) pirate (s). Books that dance. How to blend in. An uncomfortable mole. Machines that reproduce. Squares that want to get out of square. How to make yourself real.
All this, and a little more, in Animartes Mixtape.
SEXANIMARIES.
January, 2019.
It is clear that January is the worst. Cold, rain, little money, return to work and routine. Ugh. So to rescue him, Animartes proposes sex. Animated sex. But also filthy, funny, surreal and absurd. And sublime, colorful, wet and even embarrassing. That sex that makes you want to cry, or pirouette in the street, or scream as if it were the end of the world. When in fact it is the beginning, well it is January. Which is the worst. And as an antidote: sex. Sexanimartes, then.
MUSICANIMARIES
November, 2018.
We are looking for that moment when the world finds a rhythm, and hopefully, our body accommodates itself in it. This Tuesday, the spots, lines and colors begin to dance, the voices sing cartoons and the musical instruments make a screen. Puritita acoustic-visual synesthesia: visual noise and sound stains. Our looks become rhythm, our body song. Drawn choreographies: music for the eyes, images for the ear. Turn arround. Or two. Or three. To flow.
LITERANIUM TUESDAYS
September, 2018.
Words are usually trapped. In sentences, in paragraphs, and in phrases; in pages, conversations and books. Animation gives them a bit of space. It frees writing from its traditional prisons and allows it to become sounds, things or images, stories or textures. This September, Literanimartes intends to free words and letters, let them run, shit and fornicate, get confused and lose their way to see what kind of creatures they become. So this month, on this big screen, just letters gone crazy.
ANIMALS SCIENCE FICTION
July, 2018.
Tomorrow, and everyone knows it, we are going to pay more attention to machines than to other people. Tomorrow, and who doubts it, our computer will give us more orders than today. Tomorrow, and who has not seen them, the streets will be full of mutants, aliens and hybrids. Tomorrow it will be more difficult to distinguish between outer and inner space, between the inert and the animate, the stupid and the intelligent machines. This July, Animartes will be dedicated to science fiction, that particular genre that when talking about tomorrow,
tells us what happens today.
METANIMARTES
May, 2018.
Animators who cheer on animation. Drawings that draw themselves. Stories that swallow each other. Pencils that kill your creations. Puppets that revive their creators. Copies that are not theft. Giant teddy bears on the road. Animations that are riddles. Denim shorts that break down. Video against film. Film versus video. Animations against animators. Confused? We also! This Metanimartes, no idea who will be who. We wait, ok? Let's get confused then!
ANIMARTES WEIRD
March, 2018.
Than usual, we suffer too much. The days of the week, the suffering of the job, the inefficiency of the money, the missionary sex, the romantic love and the life in general. Animation has always bet on the weird, which is the most effective antidote to normality. Strange as in not knowing what to think and not being able to do anything other than let you go. Weird like what mess is happening there. Weird as in let's see it again. Weird as in I don't know what you do but it feels good. Weird like that that leaves you speechless. Weird like a trip, like a hundred ants exploring your brain, weird like psychedelic, hallucinate and unhinged,
as in absurd, funny and foul.
Rare as in weird. Weird like the first time.
This March, Animartes dresses up as weird. Weird as in weird. Weird like you. We wait for you, then.
DISCOURAGE
January, 2018.
Ugh! January is the most difficult of the months. You barely survived Christmas without being very sure that people want you more after spending so much. And you have to pay for everything. It's very fucking cold and sometimes it rains. You go back to classes, to work, to normal life, which is not easy at all. One is not obliged to smile. So this month, no Animartes. Pure discouragement. Because there is no genre more cruel with its characters than animation. Ask the Coyote. To Itchy and Scratchy. No promises. No happy endings. No friendly and smiling faces. Pure discouragement. So better come and try to find with us the joke to the tragedy. To lick our wounds. To laugh, and hurt, together, even for a little while.
ANIMARTES: HIGH CONTRAST
November, 2017.
Black and White. Light and darkness. Dreams, sex and shadows. Desire and pain. Snoring, grunting, groaning. Chaos and Metachaos. Land of fools. Land of the blind. Land of faith. Intercourse by mail. Unconscious calm. Slips. Skidding. Landings. Living death Living objects. One last dance. Negative. Positive. Rejections. Attractions. Super positions. Underground. Above. Down. Love Hate. Animartes. November. High or tall. Contrast.
ANIMARTES NO NO
September 12, 2017.
After scheduling animated shorts with restrictions, the only animations for September WILL HAVE humans, fictions, stories, and drawings.
From the surreal to the absurd, the realistic to the sublime, and from the ridiculous to the frankly disconcerting this time we will listen to sleep, we will see cuts dance,
the history of mankind
and other strangeness that accumulate.
ANIMARIES NON-FICTION
August 1, 2017.
This Animartes, the question is what and how do animators do to it when what they want to animate is reality, using techniques that, by their nature, deform it.
Along the way, we will find out what happens when the entertainers go crazy, word crimes,
what Barry says, an animation guide,
a cabinet of curiosities, moths,
and of course, the clitoris.
NON-HUMAN ANIMARIES
Tuesday June 18, 2017.
If there is something that animation does, it is to give movement to what it seems that it does not have it. When it comes to getting it moving, the options are endless: sand, rocks, cups, and a thousand other things. Humans actually get in the way. On this occasion, we will show ten shorts that include sofas that will make you blush, unfaithful insects, badly behaved stuffed animals, a rain forest, fine art at its worst, and Godzilla, of course.
ANIMARTES NO MORE
July, 2019.
During two years, we have screened 364 animated shorts in 27 Animartes. This is the last one: just the favorites. So no more crowds in a room. No more lyrics dancing. No more butchers with poor aim or endless ladders. No more kisses, no hats, no recycling, no techno-capitalist assemblages, no Bambi, no Godzilla, no hardcore, no drugs, no shit, no magic, no blood, no Pook. No more!
ANIMARIES ALL-STARS
May, 2019.
Let's be rational. Animartes is dying. After showing 347 animated shorts at 24 Animartes, it's time to do the math. This Animartes All-Stars is reserved for the best animation of the directors that have been programmed the most. The cream and cream, then. The best of the best. Pure gem. Pure genius. Pure classic.
MIXTAPE ANIMARTES
March, 2019.
BASIC INGREDIENTS OF THE FOLLOWING ANIMALS: Tips for the young artist. Dad is dead. I have no idea what I want. How to use the copier in the office. Rehabilitate a dream. One (of) pirate (s). Books that dance. How to blend in. An uncomfortable mole. Machines that reproduce. Squares that want to get out of square. How to make yourself real.
All this, and a little more, in Animartes Mixtape.
SEXANIMARIES.
January, 2019.
It is clear that January is the worst. Cold, rain, little money, return to work and routine. Ugh. So to rescue him, Animartes proposes sex. Animated sex. But also filthy, funny, surreal and absurd. And sublime, colorful, wet and even embarrassing. That sex that makes you want to cry, or pirouette in the street, or scream as if it were the end of the world. When in fact it is the beginning, well it is January. Which is the worst. And as an antidote: sex. Sexanimartes, then.
MUSICANIMARIES
November, 2018.
We are looking for that moment when the world finds a rhythm, and hopefully, our body accommodates itself in it. This Tuesday, the spots, lines and colors begin to dance, the voices sing cartoons and the musical instruments make a screen. Puritita acoustic-visual synesthesia: visual noise and sound stains. Our looks become rhythm, our body song. Drawn choreographies: music for the eyes, images for the ear. Turn arround. Or two. Or three. To flow.
LITERANIUM TUESDAYS
September, 2018.
Words are usually trapped. In sentences, in paragraphs, and in phrases; in pages, conversations and books. Animation gives them a bit of space. It frees writing from its traditional prisons and allows it to become sounds, things or images, stories or textures. This September, Literanimartes intends to free words and letters, let them run, shit and fornicate, get confused and lose their way to see what kind of creatures they become. So this month, on this big screen, just letters gone crazy.
ANIMALS SCIENCE FICTION
July, 2018.
Tomorrow, and everyone knows it, we are going to pay more attention to machines than to other people. Tomorrow, and who doubts it, our computer will give us more orders than today. Tomorrow, and who has not seen them, the streets will be full of mutants, aliens and hybrids. Tomorrow it will be more difficult to distinguish between outer and inner space, between the inert and the animate, the stupid and the intelligent machines. This July, Animartes will be dedicated to science fiction, that particular genre that when talking about tomorrow,
tells us what happens today.
METANIMARTES
May, 2018.
Animators who cheer on animation. Drawings that draw themselves. Stories that swallow each other. Pencils that kill your creations. Puppets that revive their creators. Copies that are not theft. Giant teddy bears on the road. Animations that are riddles. Denim shorts that break down. Video against film. Film versus video. Animations against animators. Confused? We also! This Metanimartes, no idea who will be who. We wait, ok? Let's get confused then!
ANIMARTES WEIRD
March, 2018.
Than usual, we suffer too much. The days of the week, the suffering of the job, the inefficiency of the money, the missionary sex, the romantic love and the life in general. Animation has always bet on the weird, which is the most effective antidote to normality. Strange as in not knowing what to think and not being able to do anything other than let you go. Weird like what mess is happening there. Weird as in let's see it again. Weird as in I don't know what you do but it feels good. Weird like that that leaves you speechless. Weird like a trip, like a hundred ants exploring your brain, weird like psychedelic, hallucinate and unhinged,
as in absurd, funny and foul.
Rare as in weird. Weird like the first time.
This March, Animartes dresses up as weird. Weird as in weird. Weird like you. We wait for you, then.
DISCOURAGE
January, 2018.
Ugh! January is the most difficult of the months. You barely survived Christmas without being very sure that people want you more after spending so much. And you have to pay for everything. It's very fucking cold and sometimes it rains. You go back to classes, to work, to normal life, which is not easy at all. One is not obliged to smile. So this month, no Animartes. Pure discouragement. Because there is no genre more cruel with its characters than animation. Ask the Coyote. To Itchy and Scratchy. No promises. No happy endings. No friendly and smiling faces. Pure discouragement. So better come and try to find with us the joke to the tragedy. To lick our wounds. To laugh, and hurt, together, even for a little while.
ANIMARTES: HIGH CONTRAST
November, 2017.
Black and White. Light and darkness. Dreams, sex and shadows. Desire and pain. Snoring, grunting, groaning. Chaos and Metachaos. Land of fools. Land of the blind. Land of faith. Intercourse by mail. Unconscious calm. Slips. Skidding. Landings. Living death Living objects. One last dance. Negative. Positive. Rejections. Attractions. Super positions. Underground. Above. Down. Love Hate. Animartes. November. High or tall. Contrast.
ANIMARTES NO NO
September 12, 2017.
After scheduling animated shorts with restrictions, the only animations for September WILL HAVE humans, fictions, stories, and drawings.
From the surreal to the absurd, the realistic to the sublime, and from the ridiculous to the frankly disconcerting this time we will listen to sleep, we will see cuts dance,
the history of mankind
and other strangeness that accumulate.
ANIMARIES NON-FICTION
August 1, 2017.
This Animartes, the question is what and how do animators do to it when what they want to animate is reality, using techniques that, by their nature, deform it.
Along the way, we will find out what happens when the entertainers go crazy, word crimes,
what Barry says, an animation guide,
a cabinet of curiosities, moths,
and of course, the clitoris.
NON-HUMAN ANIMARIES
Tuesday June 18, 2017.
If there is something that animation does, it is to give movement to what it seems that it does not have it. When it comes to getting it moving, the options are endless: sand, rocks, cups, and a thousand other things. Humans actually get in the way. On this occasion, we will show ten shorts that include sofas that will make you blush, unfaithful insects, badly behaved stuffed animals, a rain forest, fine art at its worst, and Godzilla, of course.
ANIMARTES NO MORE
July, 2019.
During two years, we have screened 364 animated shorts in 27 Animartes. This is the last one: just the favorites. So no more crowds in a room. No more lyrics dancing. No more butchers with poor aim or endless ladders. No more kisses, no hats, no recycling, no techno-capitalist assemblages, no Bambi, no Godzilla, no hardcore, no drugs, no shit, no magic, no blood, no Pook. No more!
ANIMARIES ALL-STARS
May, 2019.
Let's be rational. Animartes is dying. After showing 347 animated shorts at 24 Animartes, it's time to do the math. This Animartes All-Stars is reserved for the best animation of the directors that have been programmed the most. The cream and cream, then. The best of the best. Pure gem. Pure genius. Pure classic.
MIXTAPE ANIMARTES
March, 2019.
BASIC INGREDIENTS OF THE FOLLOWING ANIMALS: Tips for the young artist. Dad is dead. I have no idea what I want. How to use the copier in the office. Rehabilitate a dream. One (of) pirate (s). Books that dance. How to blend in. An uncomfortable mole. Machines that reproduce. Squares that want to get out of square. How to make yourself real.
All this, and a little more, in Animartes Mixtape.
SEXANIMARIES.
January, 2019.
It is clear that January is the worst. Cold, rain, little money, return to work and routine. Ugh. So to rescue him, Animartes proposes sex. Animated sex. But also filthy, funny, surreal and absurd. And sublime, colorful, wet and even embarrassing. That sex that makes you want to cry, or pirouette in the street, or scream as if it were the end of the world. When in fact it is the beginning, well it is January. Which is the worst. And as an antidote: sex. Sexanimartes, then.
MUSICANIMARIES
November, 2018.
We are looking for that moment when the world finds a rhythm, and hopefully, our body accommodates itself in it. This Tuesday, the spots, lines and colors begin to dance, the voices sing cartoons and the musical instruments make a screen. Puritita acoustic-visual synesthesia: visual noise and sound stains. Our looks become rhythm, our body song. Drawn choreographies: music for the eyes, images for the ear. Turn arround. Or two. Or three. To flow.
LITERANIUM TUESDAYS
September, 2018.
Words are usually trapped. In sentences, in paragraphs, and in phrases; in pages, conversations and books. Animation gives them a bit of space. It frees writing from its traditional prisons and allows it to become sounds, things or images, stories or textures. This September, Literanimartes intends to free words and letters, let them run, shit and fornicate, get confused and lose their way to see what kind of creatures they become. So this month, on this big screen, just letters gone crazy.
ANIMALS SCIENCE FICTION
July, 2018.
Tomorrow, and everyone knows it, we are going to pay more attention to machines than to other people. Tomorrow, and who doubts it, our computer will give us more orders than today. Tomorrow, and who has not seen them, the streets will be full of mutants, aliens and hybrids. Tomorrow it will be more difficult to distinguish between outer and inner space, between the inert and the animate, the stupid and the intelligent machines. This July, Animartes will be dedicated to science fiction, that particular genre that when talking about tomorrow,
tells us what happens today.
METANIMARTES
May, 2018.
Animators who cheer on animation. Drawings that draw themselves. Stories that swallow each other. Pencils that kill your creations. Puppets that revive their creators. Copies that are not theft. Giant teddy bears on the road. Animations that are riddles. Denim shorts that break down. Video against film. Film versus video. Animations against animators. Confused? We also! This Metanimartes, no idea who will be who. We wait, ok? Let's get confused then!
ANIMARTES WEIRD
March, 2018.
Than usual, we suffer too much. The days of the week, the suffering of the job, the inefficiency of the money, the missionary sex, the romantic love and the life in general. Animation has always bet on the weird, which is the most effective antidote to normality. Strange as in not knowing what to think and not being able to do anything other than let you go. Weird like what mess is happening there. Weird as in let's see it again. Weird as in I don't know what you do but it feels good. Weird like that that leaves you speechless. Weird like a trip, like a hundred ants exploring your brain, weird like psychedelic, hallucinate and unhinged,
as in absurd, funny and foul.
Rare as in weird. Weird like the first time.
This March, Animartes dresses up as weird. Weird as in weird. Weird like you. We wait for you, then.
DISCOURAGE
January, 2018.
Ugh! January is the most difficult of the months. You barely survived Christmas without being very sure that people want you more after spending so much. And you have to pay for everything. It's very fucking cold and sometimes it rains. You go back to classes, to work, to normal life, which is not easy at all. One is not obliged to smile. So this month, no Animartes. Pure discouragement. Because there is no genre more cruel with its characters than animation. Ask the Coyote. To Itchy and Scratchy. No promises. No happy endings. No friendly and smiling faces. Pure discouragement. So better come and try to find with us the joke to the tragedy. To lick our wounds. To laugh, and hurt, together, even for a little while.
ANIMARTES: HIGH CONTRAST
November, 2017.
Black and White. Light and darkness. Dreams, sex and shadows. Desire and pain. Snoring, grunting, groaning. Chaos and Metachaos. Land of fools. Land of the blind. Land of faith. Intercourse by mail. Unconscious calm. Slips. Skidding. Landings. Living death Living objects. One last dance. Negative. Positive. Rejections. Attractions. Super positions. Underground. Above. Down. Love Hate. Animartes. November. High or tall. Contrast.
ANIMARTES NO NO
September 12, 2017.
After scheduling animated shorts with restrictions, the only animations for September WILL HAVE humans, fictions, stories, and drawings.
From the surreal to the absurd, the realistic to the sublime, and from the ridiculous to the frankly disconcerting this time we will listen to sleep, we will see cuts dance,
the history of mankind
and other strangeness that accumulate.
ANIMARIES NON-FICTION
August 1, 2017.
This Animartes, the question is what and how do animators do to it when what they want to animate is reality, using techniques that, by their nature, deform it.
Along the way, we will find out what happens when the entertainers go crazy, word crimes,
what Barry says, an animation guide,
a cabinet of curiosities, moths,
and of course, the clitoris.
NON-HUMAN ANIMARIES
Tuesday June 18, 2017.
If there is something that animation does, it is to give movement to what it seems that it does not have it. When it comes to getting it moving, the options are endless: sand, rocks, cups, and a thousand other things. Humans actually get in the way. On this occasion, we will show ten shorts that include sofas that will make you blush, unfaithful insects, badly behaved stuffed animals, a rain forest, fine art at its worst, and Godzilla, of course.
SEXANIMARIES
January, 2019.
It is clear that January is the worst. Cold, rain, little money, return to work and routine. Ugh. So to rescue him, Animartes proposes sex. Animated sex. But also filthy, funny, surreal and absurd. And sublime, colorful, wet and even embarrassing. That sex that makes you want to cry, or pirouette in the street, or scream as if it were the end of the world. When in fact it is the beginning, well it is January. Which is the worst. And as an antidote: sex.
Sexanimartes, then.
MUSICANIMARIES
November, 2018.
We are looking for that moment when the world finds a rhythm, and hopefully, our body accommodates itself in it. This Tuesday, the spots, lines and colors begin to dance, the voices sing cartoons and the musical instruments make a screen. Puritita acoustic-visual synesthesia: visual noise and sound stains. Our looks become rhythm, our body song. Drawn choreographies: music for the eyes, images for the ear. Turn arround. Or two. Or three. To flow.
ANIMARTES NO MORE
July, 2019.
During two years, we have screened 364 animated shorts in 27 Animartes. This is the last one: just the favorites. So no more crowds in a room. No more lyrics dancing. No more butchers with poor aim or endless ladders. No more kisses, no hats, no recycling, no techno-capitalist assemblages, no Bambi, no Godzilla, no hardcore, no drugs, no shit, no magic, no blood, no Pook. No more!
CREATURANIMARTES
April, 2019.
Weird bugs. Like frogs in heat, and jealous rabbits. Like children whose face does not stay still. Or people who have extra fingers or arms. Or those with cannibal reflux. Or those who are never one. And those that reproduce in another way. Or those who have never been alive. And they feel stones. Or killer cars. Or the q have no name. Or you. Or me. They. We. Weirdos, then.
LOVE, TUESDAY
February, 2019.
Who doesn't want love? Even a little? Love equals life. Love equals happiness. Love equals money. Love equals sex. Love equals chemistry. Love equal to lies. Love equals illusion. Love equals smiles. Love equal to crying. Love equals fear. Love equal to dreaming.
Love = Animartes. Take a ride, what could go wrong?
CHRISTMAS
December, 2018.
What does a paunchy old man do coming into your house at dawn? Why does Santa Clós bring more gifts to the rich colonies? Have you noticed that Satan and Santa have the same letters?
Doesn't all that tenderness seem suspicious to you? Would we welcome Mary and Joseph with open arms? Will it snow in Tijuana? Shouldn't we be concerned about the labor exploitation of elves in these times? This Christmas Christmas, all that mistrust that this rare time produces will come to the fore. If there is Christmas, let it be bizarre.
HALLOWEEN ANIMATIONS
October, 2018.
You wake up in the middle of the night and the doll smiles at you. Your eyes fill with insects. You arrive, they are all dead. Something has taken over you; is not kind. The voices are not silent. They tell you bedtime horror stories. That child eats a human hand. You read the newspaper: all the dead return. The toilet spits blood. Mermaids howl in the night. Nothing like being afraid. Come celebrate that the nights are getting longer and the borders of reality more tenuous. Animations to die of fear, laughter and madness on Wednesday in which souls are on the loose.
LITERANIUM TUESDAYS
September, 2018.
Words are usually trapped. In sentences, in paragraphs, and in phrases; in pages, conversations and books. Animation gives them a bit of space. It frees writing from its traditional prisons and allows it to become sounds, things or images, stories or textures. This September, Literanimartes intends to free words and letters, let them run, shit and fornicate, get confused and lose their way to see what kind of creatures they become. So this month, on this big screen, just letters gone crazy.
ANIMALS SCIENCE FICTION
July, 2018.
Tomorrow, and everyone knows it, we are going to pay more attention to machines than to other people. Tomorrow, and who doubts it, our computer will give us more orders than today. Tomorrow, and who has not seen them, the streets will be full of mutants, aliens and hybrids. Tomorrow it will be more difficult to distinguish between outer and inner space, between the inert and the animate, the stupid and the intelligent machines. This July, Animartes will be dedicated to science fiction, that particular genre that when talking about tomorrow,
tells us what happens today.
ANIMARTES TUTTI FRUTTI
August, 2018.
This August, Animartes is betting on the eclectic. Animations of all flavors and colors. Pretty, vulgar and bizarre. Tender and cursed. Those that make you laugh, those that make you angry, those that make you cry. Porn, funny and serious. Experimental and traditional. New and old. Rude and prudent. From here and there. So, animations of chili, mole and butter.
ANIMARTS AT WAR
June, 2018.
War - hard not to have noticed - is everywhere. Whether high or low intensity, in rural or urban environments, it surrounds us. Its development is our technology: both the computer and the internet are fruits of war. Its ends show our terrible fragility. Its aesthetic - the spectacle of our own destruction - captures our eyes. This June, Animartes is dedicated to war, to its plasticity and the efficiency with which it destroys everything that seems familiar to us, to the promise that, in the midst of all the massacres, even a small piece of us remains.
METANIMARTES
May, 2018.
Animators who cheer on animation. Drawings that draw themselves. Stories that swallow each other. Pencils that kill your creations. Puppets that revive their creators. Copies that are not theft. Giant teddy bears on the road. Animations that are riddles. Denim shorts that break down. Video against film. Film versus video. Animations against animators. Confused? We also! This Metanimartes, no idea who will be who. We wait, ok? Let's get confused then!
