Category: Discussions/Essays

The arcade game Pacman makes a perfect symbol for life in constant pursuit. How ironic it is that most people’s lives can be aptly described in this iconic video game of endless chasing and being chased.

“Not until we are lost , do we begin to understand ourselves.” — Henry David Thoreau

In life, it’s all too easy to be caught up chasing things, or being chased by them. This constant quest for success, security, approval, comfort and even happiness, can lead you into a life of continual distraction  away from the present and farther from your path as an artist. We seem to be always running out of time, pressured by the demands of our jobs, the limitations of our bodies, and even the drive to achieve our dreams. We get lured into asking the silliest, most abstract questions: Can we get or achieve it? Will we get enough of it? And can we get it all in time? We divert our attention and energy on the abstract instead of focusing on what’s directly in front of us this very moment. The magnitude of frenzy before us is often so strong that our brains make an incredibly convincing case for its acceptance. We forget that the choice on what to focus on, and hence, how to live, is actually OURS to make.

In Frank Dabaront’s 1994 masterpiece The Shawshank Redemption (starring Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman) the characters aren’t just imprisoned by the walls that surround them, but also by their own mental barriers.

Sometimes, in order to find the answers to our questions and problems, we need to be lost, so that we can be found.

“To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present, is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.” — Rebecca Solnit

It’s scary being lost, and it’s even harder to consciously “be lost.” Fortunately, as artists, we have no choice but to do so. In fact, it’s absolutely essential for us to dive into the pool of the unknown because the best ideas — those that are unique, true and meaningful —  are the ones that connect and matter to us on a grand and personal scale.

From the first movable type printing system (top) invented by Pi Sheng in China around 1040, to the industrial printing press (bottom) developed by German Freidrich Koenig in 1814, the invention of published text was an invention that help changed the entire literary and thinking world.

We all know that when we’re trying too hard to find solutions, the universe always seems to do its best to hide them from us. We’ve talked on this blog already about planning, the need for hard work, and the necessity of having good routines and practices — these are all helpful for bettering our creativity, strengthening our skill and giving us confidence, but it’s not enough. Then, “what do we need to do?” you ask.

“Forget yourself.” — Henry Miller.

We need to take the self out of the equation, to forget everything about you, or that which has to do with you. It’s why our devotion to craft gives our lives so much meaning and joy — it’s outside of the ego. It’s an act of service to the art, to other people and to the world at large, both now and in the future. It’s the only way to pure and absolute freedom.

Obsessed with the living world around them, the ancient renaissance artists captured, explored, and dared to dream about the future. From human anatomy to tanks and flying machines, the great Leonardo Da Vinci, thought big and far. He playfully threw himself into both the present and the future — observing, absorbing and inventing.

What does being lost mean? What does it entail?

“Why do lovely faces haunt us so? Do extraordinary flowers have evil roots?” — Henry Miller

Follow the yellow brick road! Dorothy gets lost into the colorful, strange and magical world of Oz, all in order to find truth, friendship, and ultimately, herself. From MGM’s musical feature based on L. Frank Baum‘s book, The Wizard of Oz.

Being lost encapsulates the idea of giving in to the world, to accept that often dreaded feeling of vulnerability. Only by letting go and being open to the unknown can we see with “different eyes” and be able do something out of the ordinary and out of “habit.” Only then do we stand a chance of finding that which we can not find but are desperately looking for. If something as tangible as house keys are so difficult to locate when you want or need them, how much more futile is it to search for such abstract things as success, love, creativity,  uniqueness or connection? We can only find them when we don’t pursue them. We need to have our arms and minds open to receive rather than to take.

“The wisest person trusts the process without seeking to control.” — Taoist proverb

The best ideas and solutions always come to us when we’re the most relaxed, like when we’re in bed or when we’re out experiencing the world around us. It’s why I keep notepads with me all the time, and all around my house, so that I capture those magical flashes when my consciousness catches up to their discovery. Our brain is not a muscle, but an organ, like the liver or kidneys. And thus, unlike our muscles, it’s unmoved by will or force — thinking harder doesn’t make it stronger or more effective. Rather, it works best when it’s relaxed and ready. Just like animals that have homing instincts, it’s based on a trusted, instinctive automatic system.

Laugh at the bird brain all you want but birds travel thousands of miles and back without technology. Where would you be without your paper maps or GPS navigation system? Birds are probably the freest, most mobile creatures on the planet and that really says something. From Sir David Attenborough’s documentary on the evolution of flight, Conquest of the Skies.

By getting lost, you get to wonder about things aloud and smile regardless of whatever happens next. As writer Rebecca Solnit so wistfully described, there are four kinds of “knowns” in this world: There are “known knowns” (things we know that we know), “known unknowns” (things that we know we don’t know), unknown unknowns (things we don’t know that we don’t know) and finally, “unknown knowns” (things we don’t know that we know — this last one is quite a doozy when you think about it.)

Given that revelation, do we dare to assume that our limited views and interpretation of the world around us are correct? Should we continue to commit so fully to our current path of abstract busyness and mindless pursuit, knowing that so much of what is “out there” is still a mystery, still to be discovered and understood? I believe we need more humility. We need to show more respect for the grand intelligence of the universe.

Jim Henson’s marvelous invention, The Muppets, is a quick reminder of the kind of fun and silliness the can happen if we let it.

When the questions get too deep and hard, whether artistic or personal, we know not where to go or how to proceed. The more we search or battle sometimes, the worst it gets. We fall prey to our surroundings, the noise that emanates from our insecurity or worse, the external pressures that get blanketed on top of us such as advertising and social media — distractions based on abstractions that take us away from ourselves and our joys in witnessing the world around us. We’ve become without a compass; moving constantly, fearful of what’s in front of us and disappointed with what’s already behind us.

The deluded mind is the mind affectively burdened by intellect. Thus, it cannot move without stopping and reflecting upon itself. This obstructs its native fluidity.” — Bruce Lee (likely adapted from the Tao Te Ching)

Bruce Lee was one of the most brilliantly creative, charismatic and dynamic human beings that ever lived. Unfortunately, when he reached his dreams of Hollywood stardom, those mental “abstractions” of fame, fortune and image promptly ended his freedom, happiness and ultimately, his life.

This is why it’s essential to take the moment to escape, to dive into the unknown, not just so we might find solutions to our problems, artistic or otherwise, but that we forget all of society’s noise and pettiness, if even for a short while. The treasures you find in such a journey are the bonus — a surprise that can sometimes turn out to be life changing. At the very least, you find reprieve from a life fully distracted and occupied. It’s refreshing to rediscover the world, and even better to rediscover ourselves, every now and again.

“The practice of awareness says don’t grasp it too tightly, don’t be too convinced. And in that simpler way of being… it’s okay to sometimes experience not knowing what to do next, to run into a barrier… that life has a mysterious quality to it.” — Rebecca Solnit

What is most important (and most interesting) in our lives and thus, in our art, is often the unpredictable; beautiful surprises, revelations and connections that enlighten us and bring us joy. How can we not give in to those possibilities? Why should we continue to strive at striving all the time? Goals aren’t everything. This can take a long, long time to recognize and even longer to absorb.

The Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women Washing by Vincent Van Gogh. This impressionist’s artistry always reminds me of the moment and to give in to it.

“I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.” — Vincent Van Gogh

Until you are willing to be lost, you will never discover the “why’s” to your life. Getting lost is so imperatively important because only then do you have the opportunity to permit yourself to get off the path, to take an outside view of it, switching perspectives so that can see whether it’s one that might not be written by you but for you. It’s all too easy to be caught in the wheel from birth and keep at a life of busyness until death. This is a VERY hard thing to realize, and sometimes even when you do, it takes a Herculean amount of courage to get off. But it’s only when you get off the path, can you see where you are and where you’re going, and more importantly, whether you should continue the same or change course. Getting comfortable with getting lost now and then, opens up the chance for you to experience the world anew – to see, hear, touch and feel things for the first time all over again. And it just might help you find what you really need on your creative path.

“… I had observed that the men who were most in life, who were molding life, who were life itself, ate little, slept little, owned little or nothing. They had no illusions about duty, or the perpetuation of their kith and kin, or the preservation of the State. They were interested in truth and in truth alone. They recognized only one kind of activity — creation. Nobody could command their services because they had of their own pledged themselves to give all. They gave gratuitously, because that is the only way to give.” — Henry Miller.

Pablo Picasso often gave the impression he never planned his work, a spontaneous genius whose raw talent was more than enough. These studies, done during the beginnings of his cubist period, indicate otherwise. In truth, he was one of the most contemplative yet proactively engaged artists in history.

“There is no art without contemplation.” – Robert Henri

Planning is not living in the future nor is it setting in stone what you’re gonna do or even how you’re going to do it. But it’s easy to be confused about this. I like to think of planning as a process that is ever present, like any other activity. It’s a process of supplementing your already developed routine of preparation and practice with the idea that by doing so, you increase the likelihood of achieving your goals. Planning is, to me anyways, merely a phase in the entire creative process – an important phase whereby you research, explore and prepare for both problems and possibilities that lie before you.

These Milt Kahl thumbnails for Tigger are fun and exploratory. They are part of a solution but also part of the process of creating art. From the Walt Disney production, Winnie the Pooh.

Unfortunately, most artists view planning commonly in only one of two ways: (1) As a necessary but difficult and uncomfortable process that predates actual performance or creative production. Or (2) As a purely mental and controlled process, akin to architectural planning, laying out in detailed exactness the entire course of decisions and actionable objectives.

The first way makes planning out to be a nothing more than a dreaded exercise, rather than as a domain for exploration and thinking out of the box – the place where true creativity, ironically, prefers to dwell. The artist who hates planning solves nothing and remains vulnerable to going with his first ideas, fails often and wastes significant resources doing constant “re-do’s.” This artist is often poor with time management, impatient and rarely creates anything substantial or original. The second view translates planning into a method for arriving at elaborately designed “solutions” to be the end all and be all – solutions that are not only rigid and incapable of adapting to changes or unforeseen circumstances but also rob the entire production process of any joy, flexibility and spontaneity. The artist who favors this path, is often frightful of feedback and faces great emotional disappointment when things unexpectedly change course. The latter artist is also susceptible to paralysis by analysis, thereby overstretching the planning stage and leaving little time for actual execution.

“One can’t live in a future which never arrives.” – Alan Watts

Concept art often serves as the exploratory phase of any serious animation production. These gorgeous concept paintings and studies done for Disney’s Frozen are by Lisa Keene, a long time veteran artist and art director. I still vividly remember Lisa doing live painting demos in our class, with multiple brushes in her hair and between each finger of both her hands. One look at her work, and you get the easy feeling she’s completely engaged in the process and having fun.

So what is an artist to do? If you don’t plan at all, you’re likely to get seriously lost on the way, possibility encountering complexities that will side swipe you right into the gutter. Plan too much and too hard, and you’re bound to meet with disappointment when the situation and results demand that you alter your original vision and force you to trash those “perfect” plans. Anyone who’s worked in a professional creative environment (dealing with directors or clients) knows exactly what we’re talking about here. So how does one create under such conditions – that is, be creative and unexpected – but still produce results with at least some sort of consistency?

The Tree of Life by Gustav Klimt. This great master commanded both the medium of paint and the vision of something more, exploring themes of humanity such as love, death, and spirituality through design, color and composition.

It’s quite a dilemma – an endlessly confounding battle between letting the mind go so that the soul can be free, while knowing that without the service of the mind, the soul can be easily deceived or lost.

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgement wage war against your passion and your appetite.” – From The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran

In life, perhaps the answer is not so simple, but in art, there is another way of approaching the problem, and that is, treating planning itself as a creative process. Since it’s impossible to live in the future and “pre-solve” all your problems, and given that not having any plans is too risky and thus “unacceptable,” your only solution then is to take the planning process in stride like any other action that you’d take, and that is, you must to dive right into it fully engaged. You have to get it into your head that plans don’t have to be rigid. In fact, plans are most useful when they aren’t.

“If we are open only to discoveries which will accord with what we know already, we may as well stay shut.” – Alan Watts

Gehrard Richter, one of the most diverse artists alive today, seen here making his paintings – paintings in which he explores and changes constantly both the method and image that result from the process. From Corinna Belz’s insightful 2012 documentary, Gerhard Richter Painting. To read more about the film, go here.

I often tell my students that making art is often like taking a road trip – and like all road trips, it’s what you make of it. And well-planned trips, which are flexible to unexpected discoveries or side trips along the way, are always the best.

So how do you dive right into planning? First, you need to define your goal or objective, then design a plan to get to your desired destination. This activity can be immeasurably enjoyable. Just ask my wife when she’s planning a vacation. Completely immersed, she voraciously scans through library books, magazines and websites, researching and finding out where all the cool places are to see, what activities to do, where to eat, and which friends to visit along the way. She’s practically intoxicated with the anticipation of the unknown. Watching her partake in this process is always a reminder to me of how much joy you can have “planning.”

The reality is, the preparation phase is a fabulous opportunity to discover and try new things, instead of relying on old formulas or doing the first thing that comes to mind. Besides, every artist knows that your first ideas are seldom the best ideas.

French master Edgar Degas did tons of sketches and paintings not just as tests for later, perhaps more substantial works, but also as part of the process of creating, and of being an artist in general, witnessing and recording the world around us.

Since you cannot live in the future, don’t. You’re only forgetting to live presently when you try. So when you’re planning you must submit fulling to the present state of planning. If you fall in love with the process of planning, your plans have a chance of laying a foundation to something good, and possibly great. And, even if the end results don’t turn out, you’ve at least managed to temper the expectations and enjoyed the process. It’s always great to remind yourself that the journey, and not the destination, is the goal.

These beautiful Edward Hopper studies of his Siamese cat are moments beautifully captured. He may have made them for a part of a painting, but they are most elegant creations, in and of themselves.

So don’t dread the planning process, nor be obsessed with it. It’s great to have a map to know where you might hope to travel to, but it’s best still to allow room, and the expectation that plans can, and often do, change course. Engage in the process of planning playfully and commit wholeheartedly to the process of problem solving and discovery so that you can enjoy the latter process of actual artistic production with greater odds of success, and, possibly arrive at something unexpected, and even exciting and new. Here, the stage is empty and full of possibilities for pure, unadulterated exploration.

These thumbnails sketches of the Gaston song sequence (from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast) show the necessary thought and visual exploration required to make a very complex and difficult scene work. Drawings by former supervising animator Ron Husband, another teacher I had at Disney’s. To see more of the artist’s work, go here.

Personally, I don’t think as much when I actually animate (or design, paint, and storyboard). When I get there, I mostly just execute. That’s when the process becomes physical and emotional, and I move into the next step of expressing tangibly my impressions. From there on, I bounce back and forth between doing and assessment, making adjustments, both big and small, along the way until the entire cycle of artistic creation has run its course.

These Ollie Johnston studies for Penny and Rufus, from Disney’s The Rescuers are loaded with wit and charm. It may not seem so at the time they were created, but these exploratory sketches find their way into the final character animation one way or the other.

Now, sometimes, such as that commonly viewed in the realm of “Fine Art,” a determined goal or vision (such as pleasing a director or a client) isn’t always the objective. Art doesn’t always have to serve a preconceived notion. But even then – in so-called art for art’s sake, pure expression of thoughts, emotions or visual reflexes – the process isn’t always entirely fixed nor unfocused. Things don’t just “blindly” happen. The creative process is rarely aimless. Take painter Alex Kanevsky, for example. He works and re-works his paintings, sometimes substantially, to arrive at a destination. He even lets paintings sit for months, before renewing them, or painting over them.

What turned out was that there really was not a clear progress, more like wandering in the dark with uncertain goals. Not aimless, but not exactly purposeful either. – Alex Kanevsky

It isn’t just in commercial arts such as animation productions where planning, testing, doing and re-doing happen. Fine artist Alex Kanevsky often makes huge changes to his paintings as he digs hard to arrive at the best possible outcome. To see the full scale of change and evolution of this painting from start to finish, go here.

Excellent art rarely comes from pure, absolute spontaneity. The creation of animation art, like anything else for that matter, is cyclical. More often than not, the thinking and hard work that comes before the execution stage help makes it, whatever it is, happen. Consistently effective artists tend to be those who plan their work, and then move on from those plans, and into the process of building their art until they stop. Planning is merely the beginning of the creative process that is not only necessary but, when viewed with an open mind, also immensely enjoyable.

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.” – Leonardo da Vinci