They get degrees with ‘sword-slashing action’

Imagine the ultimate science fair, with room after room of students displaying their work but without any baking soda volcanoes that won’t explode or potatoes with electrodes sticking out at awkward angles. That was the vibe at the 2004 Otis College of Art and Design senior show, where the sculpting, digital rendering, sketching and sewing was at such a professional level that it was easy to forget the work had been done by students. Which, of course, is the point.

Although Friday’s show was mainly for family and friends, an industry crowd had come through the night before, and resumes and business cards still cluttered the display tables. Capacity crowds spilled into the courtyard, and the elevator wait was so long it rivaled that of any women’s restroom.

The first and second floors were by far the loudest, with motion graphics, visual effects and film projects filling the rooms. On another floor, the fashion students had created a runway-type atmosphere, while the environmental design and communication arts section felt more like gallery openings. And at the very top? Toys. Cuddly toys and creepy toys. Toys of action, toys at rest. Plush monsters, gelatinous sumo wrestlers and so much more.

Next to their creations, each of the 17 seniors in the toy design department stood, very patiently, for the duration of the evening, answering questions and being hugged and congratulated, usually with an “Everybody’s talking about yours” kind of remark. Some of the women coordinated their outfits with their dolls.

This class is the fourth to graduate from Otis’ toy design department, the only one in the country to offer a four-year bachelor’s degree in the field. With its mixture of liberal arts classes, technical training and industry internships, the program approaches toy making from all sides. Students study child psychology and art history, for example, in addition to toy construction and marketing. This year, there are 55 students in the program.

“Most of the boys come in wanting to do action figures, but the program requires them to sew plush toys, make girls’ toys, do digital rendering, everything,” said Martin Caveza, the department’s chairman. “They often come out wanting to do something very different than what they originally thought.”

Take Nate Mitchell. His hulking War Gods, with their “sword-slashing action,” stood just a table away from his Side Kix -- Explorer Emily, Outback Amy, Ice Princess Penny -- and their wide-eyed animal companions, easily some of the cutest characters at the show.

The Side Kix were Mitchell’s response to a project sponsored by Mattel Inc. in which students were asked to design a toy within certain parameters. “I was so afraid it was going to be painful, but it was actually a lot of fun,” Mitchell admitted.

Both Mattel and Walt Disney Co. donate to the department, with half of the money going to scholarships and half to facility improvements. Disney also sponsors a project in which students are paid to create a toy based on any existing Disney character.

For the Mattel assignment, the students present their finished creations to company executives. Some designs earn prize money, and others can be chosen for potential production. This year, Kimberly Matilla’s project, a line of fairy dolls and accessories -- wand, furniture, clothing -- called the Flutteries, was considered but in the end not selected.

“The fact that they held on to it for a while was really great,” said Jennifer Caveza, the department’s assistant chairwoman and Martin’s wife.

Yet designing outside their niches does not always change students’ minds.

“I really like boy stuff,” said Jason Birkeland, who wants to create action figures. “I’m just a big kid. I never quite grew up. Odd Boy is my alter ego.”

Birkeland gestured to a character from one of his comic strips. Grimy and proud of it, Odd Boy’s motto is: “Boogers and bugs and everything gross are just a few of my favorite things.”

“He’s cute as well as odd, though, right?” Birkeland said with a smile.

We’ll leave that call to the 10-year-old boys.

Another in the gross-out category was Daphne Vap’s Sideshow Strange collection -- a line of slightly grotesque characters with hints of Quentin Blake, Jules Feiffer and Edward Gorey.

The Sideshow leader, Klyde Scarff, stood at the center of the display -- a sculpted fatty with a pink gooey substance trailing down from his mouth. Vap pointed out how Scarff’s bulbous stomach was transparent, “so you can see the digestive kaleidoscope show inside.”

In her career, Vap hopes to be able to conceive characters, not just re-create the designs of others.

So does Mitchell, and that desire might influence which medium he follows. “If I go into sculpting, I’m always going to be doing somebody else’s design. Companies are just looking for the next movie tie-in. They’re not capitalizing on the creativity that’s out there.”

Despite those concerns, the overall atmosphere remained upbeat. There were 35 alumni in attendance, out of about 75, and with all of them employed -- one as a director of product development, others as freelance inventors -- their presence was encouraging.

“When the recruiters come by,” one alumnus told Vap, “I hope you ask for double of what they offer.”