Category: Discussions/Essays

“If the technical innovation of the impressionists led merely to a more accurate representation of nature, it was perhaps of not much value in enlarging their powers of expression.” — Edward Hopper, Artist

As cited before, I love technology. It can and has been a miracle. Adventures in science have led to great advances in medicine, construction, transport and communication whenever and where ever it has been allowed to flourish. It has also allowed for tremendous developments in expression, offering new tools and techniques for artists to explore and create.

“The medium is the message … We shape our tools and thereafter our tools shape us.” — Marshall McLuhan, Philosopher

However, it’s always tempting to allow our focus on technology — the medium — to override the reason for its existence (which is to make things and life better). In art forms such as animation or architecture the development of CGI is beginning to do just that. Already we’re hearing strong encouragement for using ready-made tools, imagery and photographic reference. We’re more and more obsessed with duplicating what we think is real or natural. The focus has shifted from learning from and expressing thru the craft to making the craft work faster to get results. We’re hearing that drawing is no longer needed or important. Artists now spend more and more time secluded to the limited visual scope of a computer screen. We’re also witnessing work that is commonly just a digital copy or repetition of what has come before. Vision — the birthing of something new and exciting — is often missing, as computer artists manipulate, alter and tweak pre-existing ideas, images and performances. What’s gone wrong?

This can not be blamed on the computer or technology. The sole responsibility lies with the artist. If he refuses to take the care to research, explore and discover the true and new, then by default, he will not arrive at anything original or exciting. The analog process — seeing, hearing, touching and doing — enables a deep learning process that’s not easily explained or even understood. It’s not intellectual but rather experiential and even ethereal. It’s akin to going to a real library versus researching online or drawing/painting from life versus copying from photos. It’s sitting and absorbing in awe the wonder of a sunset versus merely taking a selfie in front of one. We live and learn by doing and feeling in real environments. Attentively working with pencils, paints and other tactile tools engages our entire being and help us absorb the experience as well as the intricate intelligence tied to the experience.

Digital technologies such as computers often bypass that process including the process of learning the skills of the craft and the very perception of it. Sometimes even the joy of creating is eliminated when we work so “mechanically.” But the biggest problem perhaps is when the CG artist becomes negligent of the one big illusive truth of his craft; he forgets that it’s not real. He loses site of the reality that that CG puppet we call a rig doesn’t really exist; he cannot touch, smell or see it in actuality. So by default, he is not cognizant of the fact that that it’s just a bunch of digits in a computer and that, at the end of the day when it’s all rendered onto film, it’s the choices he’s made regarding his use of shapes, lines, colours, movement and placement (composition and choreography) that matter. What’s actually being seen and created with those elements is what makes the art ‘work’ and make the work ‘art’.

What do we really mean here? In plain talk, what I’m saying is that when we’re given a CG puppet to work with, we assume it already has weight, volume, and depth because our eyes and brain deceive us. And it’s that assumption-deception that makes the animator sloppy and inattentive with regards to those issues. The classical, hand-drawn animator is much more aware. He KNOWS that all he is making — and hence has any control over — are shapes, lines and movement. So he both develops and uses his knowledge and skill with those basic elements to create weight, volume, depth and, with thoughtfulness and some good fortune, an emotionally convincing performance. The same applies to the astute stop-motion animator who, despite his handling of actual 3 dimensional objects, is always aware that he must manipulate it VISUALLY (by changing its shape or replacing various parts) in order for his animation to be both physically and psychologically believable. When the film is rendered and processed, the end product again, is just shapes, line, colour and movement. After all, those are the tools of our craft.

The other major problem common among digital artists is the tendency to “flavour” the work after it’s been mostly done. What do we mean here? Simply this: he copies his reference dutifully, then afterwards he “tweaks” it or “touches it up.” In his delusion, he thinks that by doing this he can make the work more appealing, or worse, actually believe he can now correct for any lack of weight, depth or volume. Unfortunately (or fortunately) this kind of work process often yields work that is both mechanically unsound and devoid of any charm or beauty. The reason for this failure is that art principles that help us to create mechanically sound and visually harmonious animation are not being adhered to during the process. Creative principles must be held in mind while we create not after. We can’t just copy reference and apply creative concepts afterwards. Creating and copying are not the same. Furthermore, the personal element is also bypassed when we work so mechanically. When we copy, our minds go dull; the focus is only following and duplicating. When we create, we filter information through our minds and our senses. It tests our vision. It tests our skill. This is why drawing is so powerful. The artist needs to make a choice when he draws (hence the effectiveness of planning and thumbnail sketches). He must bring the same mindset when he works digitally.

The power and usefulness of drawing is terribly underestimated today. Not only does drawing force us to think, it makes apparent, in the most simple fashion, what we really understand about our art or don’t. When recently asked about what was wrong with 3D animators today, master animator Eric Goldberg replied: posing. In other words, today’s computer animators aren’t showing that they understand the most fundamental principles of artistic design. And this isn’t just happening in animation or architecture where digital technologies have dominated the production process (and even close to replacing all work done by hand), the same has been happening to painting. The late modernist Ellesworth Kelly was asked a few years ago if he liked any new painters. He sadly responded “artists today can’t draw and they don’t know colour.” Although I’m sure he was half-joking and not meaning all modern artists when he said what he said, it’s still a monumental statement about how the craftsmanship of being an artist is no longer being taken seriously. The most famous and best selling modern artists today don’t even sketch, plan or lay as much as a finger on their “art.” Instead, they only dictate to a crew of dozens or even hundreds of lowly paid artisans to create and do the work.

In summary, this essay was not written as a criticism of our current industry nor is it a denial of technology. Rather, it’s a call for artists to pay attention to what’s happening. We must know that our technical tool is powerful and influential in ways that we tend to forget; namely, that its convenience and power, which is so alluring, can make us forget about the artistic principles of our craft. I read somewhere — I don’t remember who said it — but when we understand how easily our brains are fooled we are nudged towards a bit more intellectual humility and empathy. I feel that it is this very humility and empathy that enables us to learn.

“Tradition is not solely, or even primarily, the maintenance of certain dogmatic beliefs; these beliefs have come to take their living form in the course of the formation of a tradition. What I mean by tradition involves all those habitual actions, habits and customs, from the most significant religious rite to our conventional way of greeting a stranger, which represent the blood kinship of ‘the same people living in the same place’.

… We become conscious of these items, or conscious of their importance, usually only after they have begun to fall into desuetude, as we are aware of the leaves of a tree when the autumn wind begins to blow them off — when they have separately ceased to be vital. Energy may be wasted at that point in a frantic endeavour to collect the leaves as they fall and gum them onto the branches: but the sound tree will put forth new leaves, and the dry tree should be put to the axe. — T.S. Eliot, Writer

The word tradition is often a term or an idea societies like to hold dear. It implies the need to retain cultural habits and rituals that help define who we are as peoples from various backgrounds and geographies. But tradition, despite it’s positive associations can also hold individuals and society as a whole back from progress and necessary change.

The root word for tradition comes from the Latin word traditionem meaning “delivery, surrender, a handing down, a giving up.” But the word is also a doublet of the word treason. In other words, tradition also infers the betrayal of the present. Clearly, tradition has its place. We value our experiences or at least our memories of them. It’s how we pass down necessary knowledge and practical “know how.” But we must also be adaptable to life as it presents itself in the now, and thus, we must be cautiously selective in what we keep or use and what we should discard. In other words, if we forget our traditions, we forget our history and lose our skills and wisdom but if we obsess over the past, we deny the present and struggle to live free.

As a society today, we often simultaneously discard the hard-earned methodologies of the past and at the same time long for the “good old days.” In certain trades, valuable practices such as apprenticeships and foundational training which take time and discipline have sadly disappeared. However, we often desire or even mimic the past while having little understanding or respect for it; we want to skip the prep work but hope to duplicate previous successes. Unfortunately, that kind of disjointed approach to creating art both denigrates the craft and weakens the fundamental abilities and understanding required to be a true artist. It’s the reason why today’s ideas are fatiguingly repetitive despite all its flash and dash and the hopeful applications of new technology. Fancy icing can never make up for a cake poorly made. I think it’s vitally important to learn one’s craft well and have control of its techniques for only then can one be free of them; we learn the rules before we can break them.

“When one know’s one’s craft well, when one has learned well how to imitate nature, the chief consideration for a good painter is to think out the whole of his picture, to have it in his head as a whole, so to speak, so that he may then execute with warmth and as if the entire thing were done at the same time.” — Jean-Auguste-Dominque Ingres, Artist

Despite our technological advances, what’s new now feels old and we’re beginning as a society of artists to lose bit by bit our ability to see. When we discard the foundational work — the research, exploration, deep analysis and sustained periods of practice — we don’t develop our sensibilities. And it’s our sensibilities that make us uniquely creative. If artists lose their ability to see, what hope has society in seeing, given so few are endowed with the gift or opportunity? If the musician can’t hear, what kind of music can he make that would be worth hearing?

Hence, to study art’s history — the artists, their techniques and their circumstances and influences — is extremely important. That way, we understand what works and how it works, and whether methodologies in the past have merit in dealing with todays’ problems. It’s why good artists study and learn anatomy, good design and composition as well as study the work of past creators. It’s why they should have interest in complimentary arts like film, poetry, and dance as well as the physical and social sciences. What good is an animator who doesn’t have any real grasp on any of the elements that describe human life and all its mechanics? How can he possibly create an illusion of life when he understands so little of it?

The counterpart (or complement) to honouring tradition — the need to discard that which no longer works, and adapt to and discover the new — is also crucial to the survival of our art. Instead of using our new found technologies to merely duplicate what’s already been done, we should be using them to find news ways or better methods to create new things formed from innovative ideas. This way we don’t denigrate the past but build upon it. We pay tribute to it thru incorporation, working from the inside out. There is so much to be learned from the past, so much still that we’ve fail to understand which could help us see and understand things better in the present. In many ways, history demands progress. We often claim it’s silly to reinvent the wheel, but we don’t become experts by starting where the masters left off. We begin our studies by learning how they started. Without understanding the how and why we end up focusing only on the what, obsessed only with results, focused only on success. When we do that, meaning, and the joys associated with learning and doing, are absent.

So, when you go about your work, your art, do you remember to periodically ask yourself if you’re actually contributing to progress or merely repeating the old? Are you honouring tradition or merely aping it? If we don’t ask such questions, we’ll never understand anything more than what’s merely on the surface.

“Questions elicit answers in their likeness. They rise and fall to the questions they meet.” — Krista Tippet, On Being.