Category: Discussions/Essays

“The mind is everything. What you think you become.” — Buddha

In art, there are far more important “F” words than the one we commonly use. These are my favorite:

Form:

“One must not always think that feeling is everything. Art is nothing without form.” — Gustave Flaubert, Writer

Whether we’re animating, painting or sculpting we’re always finding ways of using our tools to express form. We work to describe the objects of our interest, the characters we move, the models we reference.

It’s trickier than it seems because when we animate or paint a hand so to speak, we forget to see it for what it is, choosing instead to label it rationally as a “hand” rather than say an amalgamation of muscle, bone and skin that makes up the whole. If we only focus on the surface of a thing, we’ll never capture the fullness of it or its essence.

The Burghers of Calais by Auguste Rodin. No art I’ve ever seen has given me the sense of immediacy and substance than that of the work of Rodin. His sculptures have the kind of bulk and mass to them the make them feel heftier than the bronze they are cast.

Force:

“What we see is only appearance. Exercises in balance and movement teach us how to tend toward the essentials, to the functional as opposed to the external impression. We learn to recognize the underlying forces, the pre-history to the visible.” — Paul Klee, Artist

In expressing our art, there are always two forces at work: external force and internal force. External force is direct and obvious. It’s the answer to any issues of weight which is the outcome of a body of motion working against the gravitational pull from the earth’s core. It may also come in the form of an external object, be it a flying baseball or fist to the head. External forces must be respected and handled with astute attention for any sort of physical believability.

Internal force is the inner directive — driven by what it thinks and wants, a character is motivated towards an external expression, as seen in the shuffling of the feet in nervousness or the frown in the brow muscles indicating mental strain. A constant effort must be made and shown by the artist via lines of action, change of shapes (squash and stretch) and acceleration or deceleration of timing to indicate that a character drawn or posed is truly alive, thinking and feeling. The lack of understanding and application of force is the number one reason why student or amateur animation looks weak and weightless. The control and implication of motion (and emotion) must be clearly expressed at all times.

The Beast from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Glen Keane’s work is defined by his understanding and application of force. Loaded with powerful emotion and physicality expressed in every aspect of his animation, it’s easy to see why he’s often regarded as the Michelangelo of 2D animation.

Focus:

“That’s been one of my mantras — focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex; you have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it’s worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.” — Steve Jobs, Founder of Apple

Art without focus confuses. Focus is one of the hardest things to achieve both in art and life. To stay attuned to a vision and to express that same vision in a way that is clear, concise and direct is deceptively difficult. There are no formulas, although there are guidelines. Simplicity helps. So does making it (the experience) real and personal.

As artists we must constantly strive to present our work as clearly and honestly as possible. If our work doesn’t direct the attention of its audience in the right way or at the right time — causing either confusion or boredom — then we have failed at our task. Because art that doesn’t engage or create any sort of interest stops being art. Work that is without focus and purpose is at best a display of technical proficiency and at worse indecipherable noise regardless of the effort required to produce it.

2001: A Space Odyssey. There have been countless science fiction movies made since Stanley Kubrick’s 2001. Far too many are filled with almost nothing but noise — senseless action and dialogue that neither move the story nor the audience — and none to date have either the focus or power of Stanley Kubrick’s groundbreaking masterpiece.

Feeling:

“You’re not supposed to animate drawings. You’re supposed to animate feelings.” — Ollie Johnston, Animator

How can one do art without feeling? Too commonly witnessed in this industry or in any commercial art (but what isn’t commercial these days?) is work done without much feeling or thought. As if embittered by the industrial nature of our work, burnt out and disinterested in the same kinds of visuals, stories and animations demanded of us as creatives, artists world wide are beginning to duplicate not only the works of others but of their own. No wonder we’re seeing the same formulas applied everywhere. “Formulas for success” they call it. But for artists this is death.

Despite the conditions of our work and a world moving too quickly, it’s our duty as artists — who are always society’s saving hope to see the world with more open eyes and deeper hearts — to strive for something more, something better. Without feeling, without caring about what we do and how we do it, our actions become futile and our talents wasted. As noted above, feeling without form, doesn’t make art, but neither does form without feeling. Our work is about the relationships between shapes and time but also between us and the audience. How can they relate if we give them nothing to relate to?

Pussyfoot and Marc Antony. Chuck Jones’ work always seems to have a heck of a lot to say. His cute little kittens and big bulldogs reveal more humanity than many live action performances. Whether expressing his own weaknesses/feelings of insecurity thru Daffy Duck or his own hair-brained optimism/obsession thru Wile E. Coyote, Chuck Jones always got us to relate to the situation.

Faith:

“Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof.” — Khalil Gibran, Poet

The first thing I tell my students is this: if you don’t believe in yourself, I can’t help you.

One can argue that having faith is the most important thing in life. Now, even though I’m not talking faith in the religious sense (although you can choose to use that word however you see fit) for artists, that inner belief in oneself is the essential seed to creativity. Without it, there is no initial action nor sufficient follow up action to see our visions through to the end. Hence it’s important to keep our minds clear and, when necessary, to accept being lost once in a while so that we can find ourselves again. After all, art, like life, is a lot like a game of hide and seek, searching and finding continuously.

Faith isn’t unintelligible. It’s not some sort of irrational, blind devotion to a cause or set of rules and regulations. So don’t be so easily fooled by the fanatical or metaphysical noise often attached to it. Rather, faith is actionable attention — a springboard. It’s the straightening of one’s course in the face of all the challenges that are in front of us. Only with faith can anything of consequence ever be achieved.

The Apple I Computer circa 1976. The creation of the personal computer is still a marvel to me. How different the world is because a couple of creatives — Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak — said “yes we can” when everyone else told them they couldn’t.

Fun:

“Pretend that you are dancing or singing a picture… All real works of art look as though they were done in joy.” — Robert Henri, Artist

After all, isn’t this what it’s all about? Having fun? Life is short. We must spend our time doing what matters. That’s my number one commandment to myself.

If our work is done with drudgery, there is no hope but for it to become drudgery for those who view it. There’s truly nothing sadder than to see someone doing a creative job for a living and whine and complain about it the whole time. (And yes, I too, have been guilty in the past.) There may be many justifiable reasons to be unhappy but doing art shouldn’t be one of them.

When I turn to my own craft, it’s all about attention. When I’m purely convinced to dive right in (and do) I get my best results. When I’m judgemental or doubtful I fail (every time). It is as simple as it is hard. As artists, we must be fully engaged— to be utterly and completely lost in the creative process. We need to forget about expectations or the final outcome. They are a burden too heavy to carry during the operation. When we create, it’s like jumping fifty feet into a barely visible safety net unsure if it’s actually there to catch us. It’s the unknown that makes it exciting and fun. And more often than not our faith is rewarded despite the odds. The moment we lose faith however, both in the craft or in ourselves, we crash. (Then of course, we get back up and try again.) But it’s easy to forget that faith and fun are tied closely together. If we’re not excited we can’t create. Art doesn’t lie. It can’t.

A Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh. Despite a life of longing and rejection by society, Van Gogh’s art tells us so much more about him than any biography ever could. Looking at his painting we can feel the movement and magnanimity of the stars as if we were standing right there with him that very night. What a marvelous night it must’ve been and what a marvelous time he must’ve had.

So, in summary, try not to get so strained when things get tough. Instead of saying the “F” word, put your thoughts on these “F” words — form, force, focus, feeling, faith and fun. You’ll shift your attention from problems to solutions.

“If you hear a voice within you say, ‘You cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced” – Vincent Van Gogh, Artist

Al Pacino stars in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather II. Coppola is one of the few directors in the history of film that has been able to successfully create projects both large in scale and scope. But even for such a great artist such success has been rare. (See my analysis of a shot from the first Godfather movie here.)

“What we need is more a sense of the wonder of life and less of this business of making a picture.” — Robert Henri

As working artists, we are constantly confronted, both externally and internally, with the demand to do things on a grand scale, with  great complexity and accomplish it as quickly as possible. We’re endlessly torn between results and process.

Having been a director, teacher and consultant to many students and professionals in the field of animation over the years, the most common failure I noticed among artists has almost everything to do with the obsession with quick and grand results, rather than say, a lack of natural talent, good fortune or the right environment. With such lofty expectations, it’s nearly impossible to develop the right kind of skills and attitude to properly grow as an artist.

“Reverse” by Jenny Saville. Large scale work (the above piece measures 7 ft x 8 ft) requires the kind of vision and skill few acquire. It’s an ability that’s built upon years of study, contemplation and hard work.

This blog was created in hopes of helping people break free from the mindset of expectations, a thought process driven typically by greed or fear and is often tied to the need for security and social approval. Unfortunately, the mind is a very powerful thing and once habituated to think in such a manner, it is very hard to break free of this sort of self-torture.

“The brain is clever enough to see the vicious circle which it has made for itself. But it seeing that it is unreasonable to worry does not stop worry; rather, you worry the more at being unreasonable.” — Alan Watts

So what is the solution to this daunting dichotomy?

One approach that I’ve been preaching for years is to do things smaller, simpler and slower. If we remember that a work of creation, especially in the field of animation, is much akin to building a skyscraper, we’ll be reminded that there must be at first an idea — a decisive vision — that is then supported by a succession of secondary decisions, both artistic and technical, that ultimately form the entire structure.

My Pyramid of Priorities. The most stable structure, the hierarchy of the pyramid, is an apt reminder of the approach and mindset when creating a significant piece of art. The idea drives the whole project, but it’s built upon the design and stability that lies beneath it. Most of the volume of the pyramid is in the lower two-thirds — where all the planning, skill and hard work lie.

But imagine the shape of our pyramid of priorities flipped upside down, with all the time and energy placed at the very top with the base, the art and mechanics, becoming mere stilts holding up a world of ideas. Then those grand plans and visions in all its complexity and grandeur become too much to handle and, without a sufficient base of skill and preparation to support such goals, we fall and fall hard. Sometimes such grand failure can further inspire us — testing our persistence and passion— but often times it can hinder or even deter us completely from ever trying anything ever again. If we’re a juggler who is barely capable of juggling three balls standing still then adding more balls while balancing ourselves on a unicycle might not be such a wise idea. We must always be careful of biting off more than we can chew, especially at the beginning. We mustn’t let this self-absorbed pattern of thinking be our undoing with goals becoming measuring sticks rather than targets, and actions becoming duties rather than experiences. There’s a reason why the Goldilocks Principle is such a good one to follow most of the time.

“Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.” — Mother Teresa

Smaller:

We love big things don’t we? We’re all easily impressed by the guy with the biggest muscles, the large mansion or the epic film production. Unfortunately, it’s the absolute worse mindset to have when starting out. My worst and most painful ventures have all been tied to doing something that was far too large for my abilities and experience. Regardless of skill, talent or effort, doing something ridiculously large is a recipe for disaster. In animation this means doing projects or shots that are far too long (for the size of a scene is determined by its length of time). Animators seem to be obsessed with shot length. But I say, quality trumps quantity every time. If we want to do it better, we must do it smaller (at least until we’re ready to go bigger).

https://youtu.be/XBkCK78GLhU

Roger and Pongo by Milt Kahl from Walt Disney’s 101 Dalmations. Would you dare to judge this animation by its shot length? People forget this, but the creativity, passion and abilities of an animator can be easily spotted in just a single shot. (See my full, detailed analysis of this shot here.)

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” — Leonardo da Vinci

Simpler:

The other disastrous mistake beginning animators make is in the area of complexity. Not only are they juggling too many balls in the air, they want to juggle knives and chainsaws too. This art form, or any art for that matter, is hard, terribly hard. Why make things so difficult and messy? The odds of success drop dramatically when the complexity is raised. If, in our work, we’ve added complex themes, multiple characters or fancy camera moves, we better watch ourselves. When possible, always trim down the number elements involved or simplify them, so that there’s only one area that’s more challenging. Besides, great artwork directs the eye and focuses the attention of its audience towards one dominate theme or area. Just because there’s a lot going on doesn’t mean it’s gonna be good. In fact, the contrary holds true; complicated work is often difficult to watch, confusing and often filled with distraction and error.

Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson. Watterson’s brilliant strip captures the attitude of many young artists when they begin their first creations.

“The trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.” — Molière

Slower:

The final suggestion is to slow things down. Tame those desires for immediate success. What’s the hurry? We can’t rush our improvements or skill development anyway. Nature takes its time, and straining our brains won’t make any difference. The brain is not a muscle. It works better when relaxed and clairvoyant. Doing art requires preparation, skill and focus and a rushed mindset prevents all of that which is needed for success. Doing things slowly but attentively builds real ability and strength. Patience is a powerful tool. Allow time to help. But what about deadlines? I’m not talking about being unprofessional, but merely suggesting that spending our time focused and undistracted is the fastest route to success. Speed is a mindset and shortcuts are NOT the answer. The fastest people do things slowly (i.e. the long way) because they do it creatively, assuredly and effectively. Doing the right thing is always more important than doing things quickly.

“There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.” — Peter F. Drucker

Is this contrary to the sign of our times? Of course it is! But we don’t stand out because of our speed. We make a difference because of who we are and how we do things. We all know that we’re living in THE century where machines will soon replace most of the things that we do, including most manual labor and calculation, blue collar or white collar it won’t matter. The advancement of robotics and artificial intelligence is sure to change the entire socioeconomic make up of our world. This much is certain and inevitable.

As artists, our value is in our ability to bring to light that which has never existed and our individuality will become more and more important. It is our knowledge plus our creative and discerning abilities that will separate us from the merely mechanical. If all we do is do things faster, we’re already obsolete. If we play that game, then our greatest competitor is not our fellow humans but technology. It’s a game we’re sure to lose.

This now famous clip of legendary animator Hiyao Miyazaki attending an Artificial Intelligence video game demonstration shows only the beginning of AI in its application to animation. Although it might be comical (or tragic) to witness Miyazaki berating the creators of this technology, it nonetheless shows that AI is not far from being used to take over much of the less performance-based animation in the near future. The issues of achieving greater weight, appeal and believability isn’t far behind. In fact, the criticisms of it being “not very good” or “not ready” remind me of the scornful echos of classically-trained 2D animators during the advent of 3D technology.

Of course, we might argue that all this may be true but we can’t think that far ahead (although the future is already here) and that our minds just can’t let go of the incessant demand for security and the rules and habits that’s been our indoctrination. There’s no denying that this journey is anything but difficult. But in the end, we can only focus on the moment, tackling one thing at a time with integrity, attention and diligence. Only then do we stand a chance against a rational mind that has become irrational in its self-obsession. We must look at all that’s in front us and decisively take creative action — action that’s smaller and simpler — and to take our time doing it. The only security is knowing that this is the only way of building long-lasting strength in anything.

“It must be obvious, from the start, that there is a contradiction in wanting to be perfectly secure in a universe whose very nature is momentariness and fluidity.” — Alan Watts