Lost in Space, Found in Frames

As a producer who's shepherded loads of animated projects from concept to screen, I thought I'd seen every production curveball imaginable. Yet our recent short film "HOME" taught me that even the most seemingly straightforward projects can surprise you in ways that fundamentally challenge your assumptions about scale, scope, and the delicate balance between creative vision and fiscal responsibility.

A Deceptively Simple Vision

"HOME" began as what appeared to be the perfect candidate for a lean, cost-effective production approach. The script, a mere two pages, told the poignant story of an astronaut stranded on an alien world, exploring themes of isolation and longing through beautiful, contemplative imagery. The narrative was essentially a tone poem - an astronaut moving through an ethereal landscape of blue dust and towering monoliths, with a surprise reveal that recontextualizes the entire experience as a baby's perspective in a nursery.

On paper, this seemed ideal for a single-animator approach. The character count was minimal - essentially one astronaut and brief glimpses of a mother and baby. The environments, while visually striking, appeared to consist of relatively simple elements: alien terrain, starfields, and a cozy nursery. Most importantly, the contemplative pacing suggested we could achieve the desired emotional impact without complex action sequences or elaborate set pieces that typically drive up animation costs exponentially.

Our initial budget calculations were optimistic. By hiring one exceptionally talented animator who could handle both character design and animation, we projected significant savings on coordination overhead, communication delays, and the administrative complexity that comes with managing larger teams. This animator - the extremely talented Andrea Prestinenzi - had an impressive portfolio of animation design work and seemed genuinely excited about the project's artistic potential.

When Reality Meets Ambition

Starting in October, a couple weeks into production, the reality of working on a film while everyone held down a day job, juggling multiple commitments became apparent. Andrea, talented as he is, was simultaneously handling multiple projects at his day job - a fairly large media company with tight deadlines and demanding teams. What we initially planned as consistent daily or even weekly progress quickly became sporadic bursts of work squeezed between Andrea's primary obligations. Meanwhile I was working for the same company, on two separate projects with clients of varying levels of need requirements.

The first major delay came when Andrea's work with the day job landed a high-profile series redesign that demanded immediate attention. Our "HOME" project, despite his genuine enthusiasm for it, naturally took a backseat to the work that paid his rent (I’d also, for the record, have it no other way). Days would pass with minimal communication, followed by apologetic emails explaining that urgent client revisions had consumed their bandwidth. All the while, one of the clients that I was producing a relatively high-profile project for became somewhat demanding and unreasonable, unreasonable. My own bandwidth to chase yet another person waned.

While we had intentionally built a flexible schedule into our production timeline, the reality of competing priorities proved more challenging than anticipated. Andrea would make significant progress on weekends, producing beautiful work that reminded us why he was integral to the project in the first place. But then another rush project would emerge, and our momentum would stall for another week or two. Again, not anyone’s fault; just the realities of real life vs. the creative life.

By the middle of February, what we initially estimated as a 20-week production schedule was looking more like 40-45 weeks, and that was assuming no major crises within anyone’s day job. The technical challenges were certainly present but the bigger issue was simply finding consistent time blocks large enough to tackle these demanding sequences properly.

The breaking point came when we reached the character design for the Mother - a brief but crucial appearance that would ground the entire film's emotional reveal. What should have been a straightforward design process became an unexpectedly complex challenge that highlighted both the cultural sensitivity required in character creation and the inefficiencies of working without proper creative oversight.

Between our day job interruptions and our own uncertainty about striking the right balance, the Mother's design went through more than fifteen major iterations. Each revision cycle meant waiting for Andrea to find time between commercial projects, reviewing the work, providing feedback, and then waiting again for the next available window in their schedule. What compounded the problem was that without a dedicated team focused solely on our project, we lacked the kind of ongoing collaborative refinement that such sensitive character work truly requires.

Meanwhile, Kat Miles was working on the backgrounds: approximately 40 different angles that all needed to be hand-crafted to maintain visual consistency across the film. Each shot has a different background and each of them is unique. Let’s be honest: that was our bad: we really should have figured out a better way to handle the backgrounds. But, in for a penny, in for a pound! Each background required hours of detailed work, from initial sketches through final painted elements. The alien landscape scenes demanded particular attention to atmospheric perspective and the subtle interplay between the monolithic structures and the ethereal dust effects. With Kat also juggling other commitments working as a production coordinator on the same stressful projects I was working on, the background work stretched across several months, creating another bottleneck in our already delayed pipeline.

The delay wasn't just about the time spent on multiple designs or backgrounds that needed to be made. It was about the creative momentum lost while we struggled to find the right approaches. Andrea, already stretched thin between commitments, was growing frustrated with the constant revisions, and we were increasingly concerned that our well-intentioned efforts to create authentic, respectful representation were actually making the process more drawn-out and less effective than it needed to be.

The Network Effect

Fortunately, our solution emerged through the kind of industry serendipity that reminds you why film festivals matter beyond just screenings and awards. While attending the Annecy International Animation Film Festival this year, I found myself in conversation with Adi from Cosmos Maya Studios during one of those invaluable lunches between meetings and screenings. When I mentioned our production challenges with "HOME," Adi immediately suggested I connect with Siddharth Maskeri at Khoya Chappal Motion Pictures.

The introduction led to a pivotal conversation with Siddharth and his partner Soumavo, whose portfolio immediately caught our attention. Khoya Chappal's work demonstrated exactly the kind of hand-drawn 2D sensibility and emotional storytelling that "HOME" demanded. More importantly, Siddharth understood the specific challenges of producing intimate, artistic shorts that require both technical excellence and cultural sensitivity.

Rather than simply taking over the project, Siddharth proposed a collaborative approach that continued everyone’s existing contributions while bringing in the focused expertise we desperately needed. His team could handle the demanding 2D hand-drawn animation requirements, including some minor character design refinements, while providing the kind of dedicated project focus that our timeline required. Andrea and Kat’s work wouldn't be wasted; in fact, it would serve as the foundation for the more polished execution that Khoya Chappal could deliver.

The Unexpected Benefits of Scale

What surprised us most about working with Khoya Chappal wasn't just the improved production quality, but how the collaborative environment enhanced the creative process itself. Siddharth's team brought a nuanced understanding of the emotional hits that we were trying to land on, freeing everyone up, mentally, creating a a pipeline that was smoother, and worry-free.

Most importantly, Khoya Chappal's experience with similar intimate projects helped us avoid several potential pitfalls. Their insights into pacing prevented us from over-explaining the metaphorical connections, trusting viewers to make emotional leaps rather than literal ones. Add to that the fact that this didn’t really hit the budget at all, and you have the realization that we really should have considered a studio from the outset.

Lessons Beyond the Budget Line

Surprisingly, our final budget came in very close to our original projections - not because we spent more money, but because we learned to work smarter. The efficiency gains from partnering with Khoya Chappal actually offset what initially appeared to be higher costs. While studio rates seemed more expensive on paper, the focused expertise, streamlined pipeline, and elimination of endless revision cycles meant we achieved our creative goals within our original timeframe and budget parameters. More importantly, the production process taught us several valuable lessons that will influence how we approach future projects:

Experience trumps individual talent. While Andrea was undoubtedly skilled, the specialized knowledge that comes from completing dozens of similar projects can't be replicated by enthusiasm alone. Understanding the pitfalls before you encounter them is invaluable.

Dedicated focus changes everything. The difference between working with freelancers juggling multiple commitments and a studio team focused solely on your project became apparent immediately. Momentum and creative continuity matter enormously in animation production.

Industry relationships are invaluable. The conversation with Adi at Annecy that led us to Siddharth demonstrates why maintaining genuine connections throughout the animation community pays dividends in unexpected ways. These networks often provide solutions that no amount of individual research could uncover.

Quality and efficiency can align. The right partnership doesn't just improve your final product - it improves your entire production process. Working smarter, not harder, became our unexpected motto.

Thus far, the "HOME" production taught us that sometimes the most important production decision isn't how to minimize costs, but how to optimize the relationship between creative ambition and available resources. The film's success will hinge on these types of relationships..

In animation, as in the story we told, sometimes getting lost leads you to discover where you truly belong.

The Process

Image credit: Andrea Prestinenzi

Early Astronaut

My specific note when we started this journey was “make it as weird as possible.” We took inspiration from Miyazaki, Moebius, Pixar to create as alien a being as possible.

Image credit: Andrea Prestinenzi

The Final Astronaut

A lone ronin on an empty planet. The bulkiness and odd proportions hint at the true nature of the character.

Image credit: Andrea Prestinenzi

Early Mom Design

While attempting to honor an East Asian cultural look and feel of the character, we found that we were quickly sliding into something a little iffy.

Image credit: Andrea Prestinenzi

Final

At the end of the day, we went with something much more casual, comfy, homey and loose that hints at the background of the character without stereotyping or caricaturing at all.

Backgrounds

One of the Backgrounds Note the painterly quality. Image credit: Kat Miles

Another Background. Image credit: Kat Miles

Yet another Background. Image credit: Kat Miles

MATTHIAS SUNDBERG

Producer | Writer-Director

Check his profile on CenterFrame