Curator’s Notes on Icons of American Animation, the exhibition

by Robert Lemieux

During the first quarter of 2022, I was fortunate to curate a popular animation exhibition, Icons of American Animation. The exhibit spoke to the rich history of one of America’s most popular and influential art forms. The artwork spanned the 20^th century, with over 150 pieces from 30 production studios, and emphasized notable characters, films, and animators associated with both film and television. Included within the artwork were 15 Academy Award winners and 20 films listed in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry. By all accounts, it was an astounding presentation of the animation art form.

I contend that animation consists of two distinct, yet very connected, art forms. The first art form is the film itself. This is what most viewers relate to, as virtually everyone has a favorite animated film. The film is a stand-alone piece of art that is accepted as art, complete with a broad cultural reach (e.g., film studies, film critics, film festivals, film history, commercial tie-ins).  

The second art form reflects the ‘art behind the art’ and is less obvious to most viewers. This encompasses the production art needed to make the film – storyboards, model sheets, backgrounds, cels, inspirational paintings, etc. On an intuitive level, we know it exists, but it tends to be overshadowed by the final product, the film. Over the past 35 years, production artwork has become more recognized for its artistic value and has become highly sought by collectors. Our exhibit focused on this production art, as it tells the process of creating an animated film during the hand-drawn era that dominated much of the 20^th century.

As a follow-up to the exhibit, IJOCA invited me to submit an article and discuss key aspects. Much of what follows is a ‘show-and-tell’ of the production process with specific examples from the exhibit. 

Before I show-and-tell, I want to share a few logistical and planning points. To start with, consider the exhibit’s title. Titling can be a drawn-out and frustrating task, as we search for the ultimate representation. For this exhibit, there were two keywords in the title – Icons and American. Let us address the latter word first, as it is the easiest of the two to discuss.

The inclusion of the word American was both strategic and respectful. To simply call the exhibit Icons of Animation, which was our initial thought, would have negated the contributions of international animation. That may seem like a simple point, but it was important to us.

Using the word icons was considerably more challenging. As one colleague noted, “If you are bold enough to use the word icons, you are going to need some really good stuff.” Agreed. Thankfully, with a history that runs for more than 100 years, animation offers plenty of iconic contenders. That said, what does it mean to be iconic? More importantly, what 20^th century American animation would you point to as being iconic?

For ease of argument and simplicity of example, let’s assume we all agree Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is iconic. The film has a running time of 83 minutes. If the film adheres to the standard 24 frames per second, that’s more than 110,000 hand-drawn images to choose from! What single image or set of images best represents the icon that is Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? Is it the witch with the apple? Surely the dwarfs must be in there and, of course, Snow White. The prince? There are so many iconic elements to that film that it becomes a challenge. Keep in mind that the images we select help shape the exhibit’s narrative. So, in a sense, we determine that which is iconic.

Let us look at another example, Lady and the Tramp. Is it an iconic film? That is perhaps more debatable than Snow White. However, what is less debatable is the spaghetti scene, where Lady and Tramp share a plate of spaghetti. There is not a better image to represent the film and, yes, it is iconic. Even if I see the image outside of its context, I know exactly what it pertains to and where it comes from.

One of the biggest challenges we faced was finding animation art, iconic or otherwise. Aside from The Walt Disney Family Museum, which houses primarily Disney art, where do you find anything associated with the likes of UPA, Hanna-Barbera, Jay Ward, Fleischer, MGM, or many of the other studios from the 20^th century? After considerable research, a fellow curator recommended Mr. Mike Glad, a private collector who has what many consider to be the most comprehensive animation collection. Part of Mr. Glad’s collection has been featured in various museum exhibits, both domestic and international. To be frank, the breadth and depth of his collection is astounding, and it was clear he could satisfy our icon theme.

Equally important was that Mr. Glad’s collection could tell the story of the hand-drawn era. The collection consists of an array of production art that represents the various stages of the animation process. The rest of this article presents aspects of that process via selected pieces.

Storyboard

Generally, the production process starts with storyboarding. Presented below is an example from Pinocchio (1940, Walt Disney Studios) that uses colored pencil on paper, and features scene and camera designations. Even with something as simple as a storyboard, we see the quality and detail of the artistic process. (Fig. 1)

Animation Drawing

This example is from Flowers and Trees (1932, Walt Disney Studios), which is the first Academy Award winning animated short. If you are familiar with the film, you know it is a love story, where the hero tree battles a villain tree for the love of the female tree. This piece represents part of the final scene. After vanquishing the villain, the hero proposes with a caterpillar ring. If you look closely, you can see they have lightly sketched how the caterpillar will roll into position. Also present is a small audience of flower characters in the background. As an animation drawing, it features the characters. You will notice there are no background details. When the characters are transferred to the acetate cel, this is how they will look. (Fig. 2)

 

Background

              Presented below are two examples that illustrate the beauty of background images. The first is from Donald’s Ostrich (1937, Walt Disney Studios), which is watercolor on paperboard. This is the opening image of the film, and it is on screen for a mere six seconds, as the camera zooms in to the station platform. You will notice that there are no characters. Placed over the background would have been acetate cels that show the motion of the characters, in this case a cow, a pig, and flying birds, which are also part of the opening shot. As the camera settles on the station platform, the story unfolds, and all the remaining action takes place either on the platform or the station’s interior. Those scenes would involve different backgrounds that reflect close-up and mid-shot camera angles. The point is that this single image, with its beautiful artistic detail, establishes the sense of place. It also speaks to the ‘art behind the art.’ As an aside, it was one of my favorite pieces in the exhibit. (Fig. 3)

The second background image is watercolor on paperboard from Pigs is Pigs (1954, Walt Disney Studios), and it also features a train station. However, this image reflects the impact of modern art on animation, post-World War II. During the exhibit, we placed the two train station images side-by-side to show the changing styles. This image appears at the end of the film and, like the image from Donald’s Ostrich, it is on screen for a mere six seconds. (Fig. 4)

 

Layout Drawing

              This piece from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1936, Walt Disney Studios) is an example of a layout drawing, as it combines the features of an animation drawing and the background. The characters and the background are represented. The dwarfs, as well as the squirrel and rabbit, are moving characters that would be on acetate cels. Everything else would be part of the watercolor background. An incredible amount of artistry for a ‘simple’ layout drawing. (Fig. 5)

 

Inspirational Painting

              How is the mood of a scene established? Many artists create mood boards during the early part of the creative process. Similar to brainstorming, mood boards consist of images that an artist collects, and they help direct the artist in his/her creative process. Inspirational paintings are akin to mood boards and, as the name suggests, they are paintings that help set the look and mood of a scene. This example is from Cinderella (1950, Walt Disney Studios) and is watercolor and gauche on paperboard. Although the final scene may not look exactly like this, the image serves as the model. You get a sense of the mood via the colors, perspective, and shapes. This piece was created by Mary Blair, one of the few notable female animators. (Fig. 6)

 

Model Sheet

              Depicted here is a Lois Lane model sheet from Fleischer Studio’s Superman series in the 1940s. A model sheet provides detailed information about a character. In this example, we see anatomy, proportions, motion, angles, attire, and, in the lower right corner, detailed information about her eyes and mouth. A model sheet helps maintain the character’s consistency, especially if there are multiple artists drawing the same character. Virtually every primary character in an animated film would have an accompanying model sheet. (Fig. 7)

 

Color Model

              A color model is, essentially, an animation drawing with color notations. This image is from Porky’s Duck Hunt (1937, Warner Brothers Studios) and reflects how color is attributed. All the notations indicate the colors to be used, whether for clothing, props, or aspects of the character. In this example, we see BR (brown) for Porky’s jacket, blue-grey for the gun barrel, yellow for Daffy’s feet and bill, and two types of red for Porky’s hat. Like a model sheet, the color model helps maintain the color consistency. (Fig. 8)

 

Cel Setup

              This image is from The Band Concert (1935, Walt Disney Studios), and it represents the totality of the process, with everything in place. All the, somewhat muted, colors are associated with the watercolor background, and all the vibrantly colored characters are on acetate cels. This is the opening scene of the film, and the camera slowly zooms in toward the stage over the course of ten seconds. The impressive part is that all the audience members are in motion, as they cheer and clap. Considering the number of characters in the audience, that’s an extraordinary amount of motion that must be drawn, frame by frame. In short, this is a complex image. Thus, the more complex your design, the more complex it becomes to create the image and motion. (Fig. 9)

 

Music

              The roll of music is pivotal in film, particularly within animation. During the 1930s, many animated shorts consisted solely of music, with no dialogue. Disney’s Silly Symphony series, which numbered 75 short films, relied heavily on the musical score to promote the action. Some of the most notable films in animation history come from that series (e.g., Flowers & Trees (1932), The Skeleton Dance (1929), The Old Mill (1937)). Warner Brothers was also active in creating musical shorts, as they attempted to take advantage of their extensive music library. Many of today’s modern feature-length films have produced notable soundtracks (e.g., The Lion King). In short, music is a key component in the production process.

              The example presented below is a music sheet from Fantasia (1940, Walt Disney Studios), and it speaks to the intricacies of coordinating music to image. You will notice how the French horn and the bugle are emphasized in the musical notation and, most interestingly, how it applies to the scene. Below the musical notation is a watercolor thumbnail image of the scene accompanied by the camera shot notations. In this case, it is an exterior long shot of the castle, with a description of the sorcerer’s action. Most impressive is the thumbnail image, which speaks to the quality of the detail and craftsmanship. There were four Fantasia music sheets in the exhibit. (Fig. 10)

 

As popular as the art form has become, in the early 20th century animation was often viewed as an experimental novelty. The labor-intensive process of creating multiple drawings per second of film time was considered inefficient and costly by film studios. Despite these perceptions, it wasn’t long before like-minded animators joined forces, and the early strands of animation’s DNA began to coalesce into Fleischer Studios, Walt Disney Studios, Warner Brothers, Terrytoons, and Walter Lantz Productions. This hand-drawn energy would usher in animation’s Golden Era, which would extend for 40 years into the 1960s.

Throughout the Golden Era, most animated films were released as shorts, with running times of approximately seven minutes. The shorts were shown prior to a live-action feature film and, on occasion, proved more popular than the feature. In 1937, with the release of Snow White, the animated feature was born, adding to the art form’s popularity. After World War II, new studios began to emerge, such as Hanna-Barbera, Jay Ward, and UPA. In addition to the new material, many older shorts found a second life via a new venue – television. The segue to television in the 1960s also brought about a shift, as the number of features declined and, with the emergence of Saturday morning cartoons, animation became tailored toward children. In the last two decades of the 20th century, the industry rekindled itself with a resurgence of features from Walt Disney, as well as new studios, such as Don Bluth, Pixar, and Dreamworks. Additionally, there was an influx of prime-time animated television shows.

Over the course of the past century, one thing has become clear: The “experimental novelty” has transformed itself into a legitimate art form that continues to animate the imagination.

A version of this essay will appear in print in IJOCA in the fall.

It's Not My Fault: Confessions of a Comics Junkie - R.C. Harvey's autobiographical essay from 2005

Bob Harvey, a longtime comics historian and cartoonist passed away last week, suddenly after an injury. We've asked someone to write a remembrance, but here's R.C. in his own words, at least as far as he had gotten 17 years ago -

 

 It's Not My Fault
Confessions of a Comics Junkie. Or, How I Became a
Crazed Fanatic About Cartooning, Its History and Lore
R.C.Harvey

IJOCA 7-2 (Fall / Winter 2005)

 

 

Book review: Anatomy of Comics: Famous Originals of Narrative Art

Damien MacDonald. Anatomy of Comics: Famous Originals of Narrative Art. Flammarion, 2022. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/713632/anatomy-of-comics-by-damien-macdonald/9782080281876

Reviewed by Cord Scott, UMGC-Okinawa

The field of comic art has always been an extensive, albeit misunderstood or misinterpreted, one.  There have been multiple attempts to document the historical development of the field, as well as the impact or interpretation of artists and their creations.  To that end, Anatomy of Comics goes into more detail as to the connections between many different media. 

The book is a project of the la Caixa Foundation in Spain which analyzes the cultural aspect of all cultural media, from music to dance to art.  This book is a catalogue of an exhibit, Comics, Dreams and History, curated by MacDonald, which will be on display at nine different museums in Spain. That exhibition was based largely on the collection of Bernard Mahe, with contributions from various artists. The book is a natural extension of the exhibit where each subsection focuses in the intersection of different media, as well as gives examples of each theme. “Anatomy” is the overarching theme of the book though, with a cover illustration of a dissected head by Charles Burns, reproducing his cover of Metal Hurlant #120. Reproductions of original artwork illustrate the book, which is divided into five chapters of different themes, based loosely around that anatomy theme from the title. The book unfortunately does not list the media of the illustration – pen and ink, watercolor -- only the use it was put to – illustration, cover, Sunday Paper.

Section one was entitled “Tongue-in-cheek: A multi-lingual birth process.”  This section went through a discussion of how comics were created.  One quote of interest from this chapter was that the book is a “lover’s guide to the anatomy of comics, rather than a formal dissection.”  While the wording may seem somewhat disturbing, the theme of different origins and different reactions to comics is important.  There is a discussion of Winsor McCay’s work on Little Nemo in Slumberland, as well as Richard Outcault, but also that of Rudolphe Topffer whose first work was published in 1821. 

Further analysis shows how concepts such as shapeshifting characters becomes an integral part of comic book storytelling.  McCay used the concepts of shapeshifting in his work, showing a dragon acting as a carriage for a princess.  MacDonald also argues comic creators had to shift their skills from different media into the comic art process. (p. 21) He noted that originally literature was accepted in the academics’ world, while comics were often considered throwaway work, but now those same comics are studied by academics.  The first school to offer a formal scholastic program of the study of comic books was in Belgium, The Belgian Ecoles Superieures des Arts Saint-Luc in 1969. (p.25)  The shapeshifting of and changes in characters can also be a reflection of the changing persona of the creator, whether they changed their name for more work, or obscured their race or gender to gain access to the market.  It all reflected the dual-identity nature of the characters as well as the creators. 

MacDonald’s additional analysis of characters acceptable mutations as time passed and publishing options changed shows the evolution of cat-based characters from George Herriman’s Krazy Kat to the counterculture creation of Robert Crumb’s Fritz the Cat and Fat Freddy’s Cat by Gilbert Shelton. Finally, a multi-lingual approach looks at the use of idioms and slang, and he argues this was often used in American comic characters to gain immigrant readers.  This influence went both ways, and creators also added foreign concepts or language – such as Yiddish – into the American lexicon. 

Part II “The Third Ear – the onomatopoeia unleashed” dealt with cartooning as an extension of language, and also discussed the rhythm of comic art and its relation to music.  The chapter noted that some creators such as Robert Crumb or Jean Giraud (AKA Moebius) created album covers that reflected their comic book origins.  Most of the early chapter centers on Will Eisner’s approach to building stories using pacing and tone akin to films to construct effective stories.  In an interview, Eisner said, “I write in onomatopoeia, which relies on instinct rather than just the conscious mind. Most of my writing is done by sound and visual.”  MacDonald takes the first part of the phrase and returns to it again and again to argue that comics creation is always a mixture of verbal and visual parts. The section includes the movement of characters via mechanical means such as airplanes.  Using Charles Schulz’s Peanuts, Joe Kubert, Herge, and several others, the concept of travel and movement is explored and expanded. 

Part III “The Mind’s Eye – Mavericks, Rebels, and World-builders” starts off with a quote from Alan Moore about how the reader controls the time and pacing of comics, unlike in film, a point that has been noted by many others.  Many innovative comic creators focused on creating and showing a fantastical aspect of life that couldn’t exist in any other media, which in American comic books culminated in superheroes.  To that end, Macdonald notes that ideas espoused by Nietzsche (the idea of the Ubermensch or Supermen) were co-opted by the Nazis in the 1930s, even as Nazis came to see comic books as a form of degenerate entertainment created by Jews. MacDonald also looks at some early creators with examples of Milton Caniff’s Steve Canyon and Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy.  An interesting comparison is made with relation to early films similarity to comic books. 

From this point the rest of the chapter centers on the various aspects of an idealized world presented in comic books.  From the images associated with action strips like Tarzan, Prince Valiant, and Flash Gordon, to the European concepts presented in Capitan Trueno, El Principe Encanto, and the Steel Claw, and then John Buscema’s work on many of the Marvel characters in the 1960s and 1970s.  Nods are given to Chris Ware, Phil Davis and Jesus and Pili Blasco, with the culmination of the chapter quoting from Neil Gaiman, who noted that “Batman and Superman are transcendent.  They are better than most of the stories they are in.” (p. 137) To illustrate this point, the examples are extensive and range from Hugo Pratt to Mike Mignola.

Chapter IV “Ink and Paper Sex – Underground put X in Comix” deals with the role of counterculture in society.  Robert Crumb was quoted in the beginning of the chapter and MacDonald then looks at his characters, which are explored in detail for the commentary on race, class, or society embodied in them.  Sex and sexuality are a considerable aspect of comic art from the very beginning, and MacDonald includes how gender plays a part in the medium. He states that is important to understand the time they were created in, and that “[t]oday’s sometimes severe moral judgement of underground comics lacks historical perspective.” (p.190). Additionally, the X in comix may refer to the subconscious, as well as the aspects of psychoanalysis.  Serge Tisserson’s Psychoanalysis of Comics was the first to effectively attempt to understand the meanings behind the comics.  Macdonald also noted the Wertham study and its misunderstanding of deviancy as being caused or enabled by comic books. 

Milton Caniff’s work on Terry and the Pirates and Male Call were done to accentuate the female form for a male readership.  Additionally, several examples were given of creators who pushed their work to play with concepts of sexuality, such as Frank Frazetta.  Even famed Italian film maker Federico Fellini noted that the comic books have a way of propelling the viewer in ways that the movie cannot. 

The last chapter of the book “Skeleton Key – decoding the symbolism of comics” begins with creators known for their work on expanding the world and understanding of comic art: Chris Ware and Scott McCloud.  European cartoonists such as Enki Bilal, Yves Chaland and Jean-Claude Mezieres are included and tied into changing attitudes towards mysticism and androgyny in comics as well as the world.  The last anecdote of the book dealt with a film that never was, a film by Alejandro Jodorowsky, with story boards done by Moebius.  The concept had great connections across the media, from major film actors, to production backing, to music, but all to no end as it was never made but is a classic “what might have been.”  MacDonald ends by noting “Comic book making depends on low tech, ancient methods and materials: Paper and ink, but there has been an intrinsic link between cyberpunks and comics, hacker culture and sci-fi, counterculture and whistleblowers… Let’s hope may freethinking tricksters will use the tools of this medium, and invent a new symbolism that will keep the art popular, while avoiding populism. Let’s hope the dreamwork has hardly begun.” (p. 243) It connects all the chapters well.

From a historical perspective, the book offers new ideas and connections as to how different media play and use one another to push their own agenda.  The book reads as a companion to an exhibit and one gets the feel of the traveling displays.  The two biggest drawbacks to the book are significant but understandable.  First, there are no Asian examples of comic book creators.  This can be understood by being based on one man’s collection.  It should not be taken to mean that Asia has not contributed heavily to the media.

The second shortcoming of the book is that some creators may be overlooked. From an artistic standpoint, one might expect Alex Ross to be included in the book for his style of art.  In my opinion, British creators Carlos Ezquerra and Garth Ennis should also be included as their work in both scripting and illustrating materials is important to today’s comic book industry.  Overall, the book spurs the thought process of various creators and how they might be seen in a different light (Eisner’s work for the military producing educational, military cartoons comes to mind). 

In all, it is a spirited book that makes interesting connections between the realms of art, literature, music and film to name but a few of the disciplines.  It is an approach that offers a reader insight into not just creation directly, but into the connections that make the field all the richer in the long term.