The Start of My Artistic Journey

From Scribbles to Animation Triumph

I’ve often reflected on my journey as an artist,

and it’s remarkable how clear the path has become in hindsight. It all began as a child, deeply enamoured with drawing—my pencils were my trusted allies, and my canvas was anything I could find. The only formal instruction I received was from my mother, who was not just my teacher but my biggest supporter. I remember the thrill of entering competitions, where each award I received felt like another small confirmation that I was destined to create.

At the age of 21, however, my artistic journey took a pivotal turn. I found myself enrolling in a 2D classical animation program—a decision that would mark my first significant milestone. The day I stepped into that studio, I was filled with both excitement and trepidation. We began our mornings drawing circles and quickly progressed to creating animations, frame by painstaking frame.

It soon became apparent to me that I was the slowest among my peers—a team of 15 newly appointed assistant animators. I was also the only one without formal drawing training. Every time I put pencil to paper, doubt crept in. Initially, I struggled just to keep up. Then a fateful encounter changed everything.

One day, as I wandered into the television room, I stumbled upon a few colleagues practicing their sketching speed. Curious, I asked what they were doing and was shocked to learn that they were attempting to reproduce a paused animation frame in just 30 seconds. I felt an overwhelming sense of dread; drawing something in that short a time was far from my grasp. I attempted it—unsuccessfully. My failure echoed in my mind like an unshakable melody, and before I knew it, the news had reached our chief animator, Mr. Thomas.

When I heard him call my name, my heart sank, and I braced for the worst. Mr. Thomas, with his serious demeanor, laid it all out: if I wasn’t willing to work hard, there were hundreds waiting in line for my opportunity. His words cut deep. How could I, someone who loved drawing so much, be so complacent? I left his office questioning everything.

But rather than giving up, I realized I needed to confront my challenges head-on. I mustered the courage to return to Mr. Thomas, who found me in tears, shaken and overwhelmed. “I don’t know animation! I don’t know how to draw like the rest of you!” I cried out, feeling utterly lost. To my surprise, he simply laughed and offered me a straightforward solution. “You need to practice.”

That night, fueled by a blend of motivation and desperation, I drew—endlessly. I focused on perfecting circles, filling sheet after sheet with my attempts. Finally, I felt a flicker of determination reignite within me. The next morning, I hastened to the library and retrieved “The Art of Preston Blair.” It was a treasure trove of knowledge, and within a week, my skills had noticeably improved.

As time passed, I set small goals. I started by attempting to sketch frames in a minute instead of 30 seconds. To my absolute astonishment, I soon managed to do it in less than 20 seconds. My confidence grew like wildfire, and I began to draw with an intensity I had never experienced before.

For two months, I dedicated myself to studying and practicing in solitude. Mr. Thomas eventually reviewed our progress and announced the final test: we were to create an 8-second animated sequence, complete with a storyboard and character sheet, all in one week. The stakes were higher than ever, and I flung myself into my work with fervor, staying in the studio from morning until night.

The day my hand-drawn animations came to life is etched in my memory. As I entered the line test room with my creations, I was met with a room full of my peers and Mr. Thomas. My heart pounded as the senior animators reviewed my work. “Did you do this?” Mr. Thomas asked, astonished. I hesitated; what if this was a cruel joke? But the laughter behind me quickly turned into applause, and I realized they were cheering for my persistence.

That day marked my official entry into the world of animation. After a year and a half of hard work and countless sketches, I received the opportunity to lead the 2D department at a German company.

Looking back, I see that artistic journey not as a linear path, but a series of trials and tribulations that taught me resilience and passion. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything because they shaped me into who I am today. I learned that talent can only take you so far, but perseverance and dedication forge the true artist.

To anyone standing on the brink of their own journey—embrace your struggles, learn from them, and never shy away from seeking help. After all, every masterpiece begins with a single stroke.

The Heart of Art - A Journey of Passion and Resilience

 

The Heart of Art

A Journey of Passion and Resilience

From the moment I picked up a pencil as a child, I felt a rush of excitement that words could scarcely capture. Drawing was not just a pastime for me; it was a release, a way to breathe life into my imagination. Over the years, this joy evolved into a fervent passion, one that would guide me through the twists and turns of adulthood. I dreamt of becoming a professional artist, even without formal training. Armed with little more than a stack of dog-eared art books and the encouragement of friends, I set out on a path that would challenge and inspire me in equal measure.

At 21, I stepped into the world of 2D classical animation as a junior artist. The thrill of creating frame-by-frame animations by hand was intoxicating. I was hooked—my heart raced with every stroke of my pencil as characters danced to life. For three glorious years, I immersed myself in this craft, driven by a relentless desire to learn and grow. I lost track of time; the hours spent hunched over my desk were filled with pure joy. Each line I drew felt like a small step toward my ultimate goal: to be a true professional artist.

However, just as my enthusiasm bloomed, the industry began to shift. The dawn of digital art was upon us, and as the need for efficiency grew, I found myself at a crossroads. Rather than resist the change, I dove headlong into the world of technology. I adapted, learned new software, and honed my skills to keep pace with this evolving landscape. It wasn't long before my dedication paid off, and I progressed to the role of production manager. My long hair, a symbol of my creative spirit, became a fixture in the studio.

At 28, I transformed not only in my position but in my role as a mentor to young artists eager to carve their own paths. Yet amidst the demands of my responsibilities, I discovered a bittersweet truth. The hours I once dedicated to drawing had dwindled, slipping through my fingers like sand. Creativity took a backseat to managerial duties, and while I still seized every chance to showcase my skills—impressing those around me—I longed for the unbridled days of my youth. Two decades swiftly passed, and as I reflect on my journey now at the age of 46, it feels like a beautiful dream tinged with nostalgia.

In a world increasingly dominated by artificial intelligence, the battlefield of artistry has transformed. I often ponder the essence of being a "real" artist. It’s amusing, really. Today, it seems that anyone with an internet connection can produce art without the need for proficiency or passion—who would’ve thought we’d reach this point? Yet, amid this technological tide, I remain steadfast in my belief that genuine artistry transcends algorithms and prompts.

As I revisit my own creations, meticulously refined with the aid of AI, I reaffirm my identity as an artist. It’s not the technology that defines me, but the heart I pour into each piece. A real artist requires only a pencil, paper, and a quiet space to let the imagination soar. I cherish those simple tools, as they ground me. Technology may enhance my work, but it is my experience, my understanding of life, that breathes my soul into my art.

To me, AI is not the enemy. It simply lacks the intricacies of human emotion and creativity. As living beings armed with passion and insight, we wield the true power to shape our creations. My heart races as I realize that I am the one in control of my artistic journey, and that will never change. So I invite you, dear friends—let’s celebrate the imperfections, the struggles, and the triumphs of being an artist in this ever-evolving world. After all, the most authentic art comes from a place deep within us, entwined with our stories, passions, and dreams.

With regards

Felix Clement

My ArtWorks

How Artists are Killing their Creative Minds & How to Develop & Expand Your Creative Minds.

Insights from My 20-Year Journey as a Professional Artist

As I reflect on my two-decade journey as a professional artist, I’m filled with gratitude and lessons learned. The world of creativity is a vast landscape, filled with experiences that can either nourish or hinder our innate artistic talents. Just like every artist, I began with a spark of creativity—a blend of inspiration, curiosity, and personal expression—but along the way, I witnessed how easily that brilliance can dim. Today, I'd like to share with you not just how to avoid stifling your creative mind but also how to cultivate it into something truly remarkable.

Let’s start by looking at how we often kill our creative spirit without even realizing it.

The Creativity Killers

1. Overthinking: I’ve often found myself paralyzed by analysis, second-guessing every brushstroke. When we dissect our ideas to the nth degree, we can snuff out the very essence of spontaneous creativity. The solution? Give yourself permission to create without overanalyzing the details.

2. Comfort Zone Complacency: There’s a comforting allure in sticking to what we know. Yet, I've learned that true growth happens outside that cosy bubble. If you never venture beyond familiar techniques or subject matter, you risk missing out on the vast possibilities that exist beyond the known.

3. Fear of New Things: In my early days, fear often held me back from experimenting with unfamiliar mediums or styles. That fear can be crippling, leading us to avoid failure at all costs. However, embracing new experiences opens doors to growth and innovation.

4. Fear of Criticism: Early in my career, feedback could leave me feeling disheartened. However, through my artistic evolution, I realized that constructive criticism is a vital tool for improvement. Art isn’t just about what you see; it’s what you evoke in others. The feelings your work stirs are more crucial than fleeting praise.

5. Over-attachment to My Work: While it’s essential to love what you create, becoming overly attached can hinder your progress. I've made it a practice to step back from my creations, allowing room for new ideas and growth rather than repeating the same formulas.

6. Adhering to a Single Style: I remember the sense of security in sticking to a recognizable style early on. However, this approach stunted my growth as an artist. Exploring different styles is crucial for expanding our creative boundaries.

7. The “I Will Never Draw by Hand” Mentality: This has been a game-changer for me. I used to believe that mastering drawing was a prerequisite to all creative endeavours. But what I learned is that sketching and transferring ideas to paper can invigorate creativity. It’s the rough sketches—the initial ideas—where the magic starts.

How to Develop and Expand Your Creative Mind

Now that we’ve identified creativity’s nemeses, let’s explore how to overcome these obstacles and foster a vibrant creative mind.

1. Study the Masters: I immersed myself in the works of great artists, understanding the techniques behind their successful compositions. This foundational knowledge allowed me to build my own voice, drawing inspiration from the giants before me.

2. Practice and Experiment: The fear of failure can be daunting, but every failed attempt is a step toward refining our craft. I began approaching my art with curiosity, treating each piece as an experiment rather than a final product.

3. Reflect and Improve: Comparing my early works to more recent projects highlighted the growth I often overlooked. It reminded me that the creative journey is a marathon, not a sprint. Each piece teaches us, shaping our artistic identity.

4. Generate Ideas: I frequently engage in a process of rapid sketching—creating small thumbnails without thinking too much. This taps into my brain’s reservoir of memories and impressions, leading to unique compositions that often surprise me.

5. Break Free from Constraints: I encourage you to document your journey, tag your creations with dates, and track your progress. This practice not only motivates you but helps to develop a sense of continuity in your artistic evolution.

6. Develop Your Unique Style: Sharing your work is not about seeking validation, but rather understanding the emotional responses it elicits. Be open to both praise and critique, as they both contribute to refining your unique artistic voice.

7. Seek Feedback: Engaging with others about their perceptions creates opportunities for growth. I’ve learned to appreciate the ‘negative’ comments, as they often contain profound truths that can propel my development as an artist.

Admittedly, these steps may seem daunting at first, but remember that the path to becoming a successful artist is a journey of continual learning. Embrace the process, stay patient with yourself, and enjoy the creative exploration. After all, within each of us lies an inexhaustible well of inspiration, waiting to be tapped. Let your creativity flourish, and watch as it transforms your world.