The Midnight Diaries of Catty Wampus

C’mere and listen close kiddies, because I’ve got news for you:

Your shot could be better.

The shot you’re working on right now, the one you’ve been animating for a week now–there is a lot you could do to make it better.

Whoever you are, whoever is reading this–whether you’re Jane Newbie or Glenn Keane–your shot could be better.

I used to listen to the animator’s commentaries on my DVDs (yes, “used to”–hey Disney/Pixar, where’d the commentaries run off to??), and the animators would say “There’s still things I’d like to go back and change about the shot you’re seeing right now.” And the shot I’d be seeing would be some of the most appealing, engaging, heartfelt, and believable animation I’d ever watched. What could the animator possibly wish to change about it?

And then one day I was showing a friend a shot I’d worked on, saying that there were still little details I wish I could do again. “I don’t understand,” said my friend. “It looks good to me.”

Both of these examples get to the heart of something I’ve been struggling with for a while. I see what can be better in my shots; I just don’t know how to actually make those improvements.

My eye is a better animator than I am.

This is natural, I believe. As frustrating as it is, it is natural. My eye can tell when a pose isn’t quite as appealing as it could be. My eye can see the slightest movement that has a hitch in its arc. My eye can see that the body of my character could be a lot looser and natural.

As much as I try, however, it’s really difficult for my hands and my mind to make the changes necessary to make my shot better.

Since my first bouncing ball, I could tell that something with the bouncing ball just didn’t feel right–but I didn’t know what to do to make it better. I didn’t know anything about timing or spacing at the time, so I didn’t have the tools to critically examine my work. All I knew was that my bouncing ball could use a lot of improvement.

I daresay I could do a much better bouncing ball now. But even as I’ve developed the skills to animate a convincing bouncing ball, new goals have appeared on the horizon. I don’t feel as confident in my posing as I’d like to. I don’t know quite how to get the most out of my timing and spacing. I see awkward rotations in my character’s limbs and struggle to find the solutions in my graph editor.

My eye still sees where improvements can happen. And my skills as an animator are constantly chasing my eye, running after it in a vain attempt to catch up.

This people mean when you hear about animation being a craft that forces you to constantly learn more and more. You hear that Frank and Ollie were still learning to be better animators into their 70’s and 80’s. It never ends, and it’s simply a fact we have to acknowledge and embrace. As soon as you learn one thing, two more new things you had never considered before will challenge you.

It’s so important to keep your eye running ahead of you. You need to always be just a shade or two behind your eye. If you ever feel like you’ve caught up to your eye, chances are pretty good that you’ve stopped learning.

Granted, there are times when you will look at a shot you’ve done and think to yourself “Hey, my shot looks pretty good! I can’t see anything that could be improved.” This is where your friends, co-workers, and colleagues can be invaluable. When I ask my friends to look at shots that I think I’m done with, they always find things that could be better. Sometimes it’s really tiny things, and sometimes it’s something so large that I can’t believe I missed it.

Just this last week, I thought I was finished with a shot. I called my a friend to my desk to look at my beautiful work and he said “Lookin’ good. The arm feels a bit floaty between frames 70 and 85, though.” Lo and behold, the arm did feel floaty between 70 and 85! I set about fixing the arm’s movement, but before I did that I made a mental note that was something like this:

“Dear Eric: This isn’t the first time that you’ve been told that one of your character’s limbs looks floaty. You should be a little more diligent when checking your animation to make sure that your arms, hands, and finger movement don’t feel floaty. Talk soon! Love, Eric.”

This is one big way I make sure that my eye is always traveling at a faster clip than I am. Sure, it would have been easy to take my friend’s advice and fix that arm without giving it a second thought. The really important step, however, was to pay attention to the trend of people noticing floaty animation in my work. I recognize this weakness in myself, and now I can work to strengthen that area of my skills.

And now, the big message:

This can work for you, too! Make sure that you keep training your eye to be a kick-ass animator, and then strap on your running shoes because you’ve got to start chasing your eye.

The further your eye goes, the further you go.

Good luck!