Author: Chris Oatley

Pixar Animation Studios was always known for quality storytelling, but in the early years of CG feature animation, they also set the standard for design.

CG feature animation was considered by many (even mainstream audiences) inherently inferior until the turn of the 21st century.

The fur and lighting effects in Monsters, Inc. were remarkable in 2001 (and they still hold up) but in 2003, Finding Nemo’s visual art finally and fully transcended the technological limitations of the new medium.

When interviewed about how they created such stunning imagery, the Pixar artists often cited their meticulous research.

Whether it was sketching professional ballet dancers in preparation for Fantasia’s dancing hippo sequence, living in Latin America for months at a time during development for Saludos Amigos and The Three Caballeros or hiring legitimate apex predators as models for The Lion King, Disney artists were willing to do whatever it took to achieve their characteristic verisimilitude.

…so why wouldn’t Pixar?

They got the Nemo art team certified for scuba diving. The Up artists flew to Venezuela to paint the world’s tallest waterfall. The Cars crew went on an epic road trip across the legendary US Route 66, the Ratatouille team wined and dined at fancy restaurants in Paris…

…and the Toy Story 3 team toured…

…landfills.

That’s right…

The Nemo people swam around a coral reef.

…and the Toy Story 3 people swam around in literal human garbage.

…but the movie probably wouldn’t have created the cultural phenomenon it did if the artists hadn’t been so committed to authenticity.

This is the second in a three-part lesson for artists who are ready to develop effective professional practices upon which they can depend for efficiency, consistency and quality in their work.

Today we’ll talk about the importance of working from reference – even when it stinks.

We’ll bust five common myths about reference.

…myths that if left un-busted put your portfolio at risk of landing in the trash.

Have you ever seen a ballet dancer’s feet?

One of my best friends in high school was a serious ballet dancer.

…serious about her craft and serious about her gnarly feet.

She wore those bruises and blisters like a badge of honor.

…and so did many in her dance class.

I was once present for a conversation in which they compared their various injuries in a collective attempt to gross each other out.

Another friend, a non-athletic like me, had to leave the room because the sympathy pain was making him queasy.

I tried to join the fun by showing off two of my left fingers.

I often practiced guitar with such intensity that my calluses split or broke off. That’s the only thing that could make me take a break.

…until I heard a story about guitar-hero Stevie Ray Vaughan.

The story goes that one night, during a typically aggressive performance, he lost a callus. On break, the club owner found “SRV” in the dressing room, super-gluing the flapping callus back onto his finger so he could finish the show.

I tried it.

It worked until the MacGyver’d callus on my pinky finger broke again a few days later. The dried super-glue prevented the worsened wound from closing so it took forever to heal.

…but for a few precious moments, dancers thought I was the cool one.

Then they laced-up their ballet shoes and took their starting positions for rehearsal.

The rowdy group grew still and silent.

The coach counted off.

…and for a few measures, they filled the room with magic.

…until one dancer tripped, collided with another and everyone had to start over.

My point is that when people think of ballet dancers they think of the elegance, beauty and effortless impression seen on stage.

The audience sees the satin shoes.

…but not the swollen, purple feet inside.

One of the most important mindset shifts in the career of any professional artist is a shift in focus from performance to practice.

…from the stage to the studio.

Our culture has a very bad habit of promoting performance while obfuscating the practice behind it.

This habit skews expectations, scatters attention and stifles patience.

…and it’s not just a social media problem.

Social media is, obviously, a big part of the problem now.

…but effective practice has always tested our patience.

…because almost nobody applauds the process.

…but without effective practice, there’s no performance.

…no stage without the studio.

So this is the first of a three-part lesson for artists who are ready to develop effective professional practices upon which they can depend for efficiency, consistency and quality in their work.

Today, we’ll begin by busting six common myths about practice.

…myths that, if left un-busted, can lead to physical injury, damage to our mental health, wasted time and energy, burnout or rage quitting.

In parts one and two of this series, I emphasized that most artists will never find a financially sustainable career until they develop a complete, professionally viable skill set.

…but why invest the time and energy necessary to develop a financially sustainable art career if you don’t love the work?

…or at least like it?

We saw how Mary Blair struggled to pay the bills with her passion for fine art, then settled for a steady paycheck in animation.

…but got bored with the work just a few years later.

If she hadn’t given animation one last chance, by joining Walt Disney’s visual development research trip to Latin America, she might never have discovered the skill set from which she derived creative fulfillment, a steady paycheck and her legendary career.

Today, in part three, I’ll share how and why I wasted a lot of time pursuing a career I never loved and three steps you can take to avoid the same mistake…

In part one of this series, I posed a mostly rhetorical question:

Are professional artists (whether aspiring or experienced) foolish to believe that their work could be both financially sustainable and creatively fulfilling?

Then we observed a struggle between these two extremes in the early life and work of Mary Blair, a genius of color and design who became one of the most influential artists in the history of Disney animation.

…but before that, she quit.

…after just fourteen months at the studio.

…and then abruptly changed her mind.

Today we’ll learn that, after her return to Disney, Mary Blair discovered, in effect, one crucial question that led to an elevated role in which she soon found the work to be both financially sustainable and creatively fulfilling.

…a crucial question that led her transformation from versatile mimic into the marquee artist of Cinderella, Alice In Wonderland, Peter Pan and the animatronic wonder It’s A Small World.

…a crucial question that every professional artist (aspiring or experienced) would be wise to apply.

To pursue a career as a professional artist is to expect a lot from your job.

…more, it seems, than most people expect from their own.

Professional artists and those who aspire to the same status expect the work to be both financially sustainable and creatively fulfilling.

Some people seem satisfied, simply, to find a day job they don’t hate and compensate for any lack of creativity with hobbies.

…and others view their vocation as a tolerable compromise that buys time for the art they place at the center of their lives.

Regardless of which takes priority, it often seems that we have to choose: Art or a steady paycheck.

But why would it have to be one or the other?

Why couldn’t our work be both financially sustainable and creatively fulfilling?

Why couldn’t our work be both financially sustainable and creatively fulfilling?

Are we asking too much?

Is it even realistic to imagine?

In this first lesson of a course titled You’re A Better Artist Than You Think, we’ll introduce a crucial question that could save your art career (even if you don’t have one yet) and rethink a common belief that often prevents artists from becoming professionals.

But, as with every lesson throughout the course, we’ll begin by looking to history for answers. (History always has answers.)

Today we’ll hear the “origin story” of Mary Blair, a mid-century Disney artist whose “renown in the company,” writes historian Nathalia Holt, “was second only to Walt’s.”

In her life and work (which is on display throughout this post) we’ll find a more vivid picture of what it means to make a living from one’s creative passion, what often blocks many of us from a similar experience and how this fundamental shift in the way we think about the art vs. money conundrum can affect the quality of our work, whether we find it fulfilling, our sense of self, of belonging, of motivation and inspiration.

Click through to continue part one…