Tag: animation mentor

Manual setting

René Magritte’s False Mirror. This innovative and provocative surrealist is really one of the precursers to modern art, making us feel and think about our existence, all the while doing it in a stylish way.

Life is too automatic nowadays; We work the same way, we think the same thoughts and we resort to the same forms of escapism to deal with the unglorious monotony of it all. And now that technology is making it even easier, more convenient and even addictive to behave in such automatic fashion we have to really wonder what agency we really have over our lives. It all seems pretty dull and empty and getting to the commonly expected desired end — more money, status or acceptance as quickly as possible — is hardly the fix. That’s because the ultimate end is death, so what’s the hurry? Personally, I find a life chasing, competing, and stressing to get all these things society defines as successful living is all rather silly, even terrifying. Why live a life in fear?

“Life is wasted when we make it more terrifying, precisely because it so easy to do so.” — René Magritte

Why have we become so automated? Why don’t we give each moment its careful due attention? I suspect because it’s easier, at least at first. Thinking requires effort. Stopping and actually looking and listening require effort. Our mechanical minds are always trying to avoid effort trying to limit the expenditure of energy that isn’t by a calculated benefit. We live too transactionally. This is a problem because it leads to kind of a daily malaise — a sickness of the mind. Instead of seizing the moment of joy, peace or opportunity, we live in the past or future chasing desire and running away from fear ultimately ending up without much genuine happiness or meaning. This we call success as along as we have the aforementioned gains in fame or fortune. It’s certainly not very original is it? This is the price of automatic living; it’s mechanically and rationally efficient but ultimately pointless and miserable. The only way to counter that is to turn off the auto setting and go manual.

Here are some things to consider on reverting back to manual setting:

  • periodically stop whatever you’re doing and actually ask yourself what it is you’re doing. Is there purpose, vision or even awareness? Sounds simple but people rarely do this, being aware that is, especially so in the midst of frustration, anger or conflict.
  • when you’re working, consciously feel the tools of your trade in your hand — brush, pen, knife or whatever — hover your skin over it, feel its substance and form, wonder about its construction and possibilities. How you think of and use your tools affects the quality it has on your craft.
  • apply the same sensitive mindset you apply to your physical tools to your craft. If managing colors, lines and movements are the techniques of your craft, be really aware of it, never forget ther are the foundations for creating expression.
  • depend less on automated tools designed specifically to save time and work. Everything comes in a package, what you gain in efficiency you’ll likely lose in skill development, resourcefulness and/or innovation.
  • listen to your body, especially when you’re working. If it’s tired, stop. Get good rest, return to the work later. Creativity can’t be forced.
  • don’t always work the same way and don’t treat each project the same. Ask what that particular assignment demands. Be true and respectful of the work.
  • Beware of any formulas. Defined techniques used over and over again might bring consistency but it also ruins any possibility of having any fun or developing an original style. Discovery happens in the darkness of not knowing.
  • ask yourself: do you want work to be easy or good? Go autopilot if you want your work to mirror the consistent “acceptability” of a fast food hamburger. Otherwise, make good art which requires order and effort.
  • vary your sources of reference and increase your exposure to different forms of art. Broaden your tastes. Mix and match ideas.
  • improve your tastes. If you want to make good art expose yourself to lots of good art. A good chef eats good food.
  • periodically resist the use of digital tools, photography/video or the internet. Pick up a book, listen to an LP, bang some drums around. Don’t let the smartphone/ipad/tv become your default form of play, rest or research.
  • remember to work from the inside out (i.e. from the heart) and bottom up (i.e. foundationally). Your work will have more structure and more personal meaning.
  • change your work setting. Shaking up your environment forces your brain to adapt to new stimuli and even think differently. If you want to think outside of the box you must get outside of it first.
  • watch/listen to things you don’t normally do. Get away from confirmation bias. Be humble and open.
  • if your catch yourself thinking too much go do something that makes your sweat. It’s amazing what hitting a heavy bag or running around chasing a ball can do for your tensions and focus.
  • design your life — YOU must choose what you like to be and do — otherwise your life will be “automatically” designed for you. Try to live authentically every moment, everyday.
  • sometimes, it’s best to just stop everything where ever you are and just look and listen to the sky, the water and the trees and forget about time for a while.

Complexity vs Complication

John Willam Waterhouse’s Hyla and the Nymphs is a simple yet stunning painting that carries a complex mix of elegant sensuality and rich mythology.

“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.” — Charles Bukowski

Life is complex. Making art is complex. We don’t mind complexity. What we don’t want is complication. Yet complexity invites complication, implying more ingredients, more ways and more difficulty. Hence, simpler is usually better.

That said, complexity can be very beautiful, very fun. Making art itself is a complex process and making things simple in art is often the most complex challenge of all. So why don’t we naturally strive for simplicity and good order, for the simpler, smaller and slower? Here’s the thing, most things aren’t inherently in good order, at least when it comes to anything human. We’re a tangled mess the moment we leave the purity of early childhood — that unrecallable moment when we gained self-consciousness — and it gets messier as the years pile on. The desire for more and faster take over. Genuine maturity is difficult, dealing with the larger world while retaining one’s authenticity is commonly a lost battle. The trick is turning growing complexity into simplicity without losing depth or sophistication, finding meaningfulness without getting lost. That’s the way of the artist.

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.” — Walt Whitman

I’ve always felt that excess was over-rated. This ridiculous idea of abundance is almost as silly as the idea of scarcity. Too much or too little, neither is optimal. Sometimes, when options are restricted, the creative can find resourcefulness and innovation — the limitations stretch his imagination. But when there’s too much, complexity can often end up as complication. A common example is when there’s far too many elements in the picture or way too many ideas to begin with. Then it becomes too hard for the artist to balance and even harder for the viewer to grasp. There’s no clarity, no directness. Themes and visions come out cluttered and vague. The desire for complexity often leads to chaos, confusion and fear.

“I’m full of fears and I do my best to avoid difficulties and any kind of complications. I like everything around me to be clear as crystal and completely calm.” — Alfred Hitchcock

While complexity can get ugly quickly we still find ourselves hopelessly drawn to it. It might be the machine in us. It’s been said that whenever an opportunity presents itself for thinking like a machine, we will almost always do so. This is a disturbing realization. Plus, our culture magnifies this tendancy, nurtures it and inflames it. Then it tries to sell you simple solutions so you don’t have to put in the work. Thinking is hard work and all work is an expenditure. This happens with politics, religion and technology — why think when someone or something can tell you what to think or do! We must be highly wary of this. To derive simplicity out of complexity requires wide open awareness as well as deep introspection; thinking mustn’t ever be outsourced to outside parties. The artist, in fact, must do the opposite; he must hold on to his heart and exercise his agency.

Generalized as a colorist, Mark Rothko’s artistry is so much more than meets the common eye. This painting, titled No 14, is fully of feeling and intent.

There are times, of course, when rich complexity is necessary; some ideas are just fuller and require greater elaboration or detail. Personally though, I’d avoid it unless your heart says that you must take on such responsibility. Even the greatest artists have struggled to pull it off, this striving for extravagance; art history is littered with collosal and expensive creative failures. The best works of art are shockingly simple yet sophisticated, a kind of refinement not so easily subjugated by category. Art is an organic thing that comes out of an organic process, it’s never purely mechanical. Real art has soul and retains mystery, things that can never be found as by-products of fully automatic operation. To allow unattended mechanism to produce or judge art would be like grading a movie soley by its technical and commercial achievements.

One of many great scenes from Peter Weir’s Dead Poet’s Society.

Story, composition, color and if you’re an animator, lines of action, posing, paths of action, rhythm — are these clear and simple? If not, you’re in trouble. Remember that failed art tends to show a lack of the vision or the feeling of chaos. Humans are like snails, we leave trails. What and how we do things matter. The lack of cohesiveness and harmony can never be hidden from view; the astute will notice. When the mind isn’t clear, the result is confusion, the culprit of poor decision-making. A good artist makes good decisions. He’s got a focused mind, a passionate heart, skill and patience, plus a good dose of courage. These are the actual ingredients to making good art. These are the virtues witnessed in the practice and artistry of the masters who, first and foremost, strive for simplicity.

“The closer to the true way of martial arts, the less wastage of expression there is.” — Bruce Lee