Former Pixar Animator Frank Abney talks his new short film ‘Canvas’ and how Black Animators are breaking the Glass Ceiling
Speaking with Frank Abney III over the phone, his voice projects a gentle humility with an undercurrent of humor, wisdom, love, and grief. At the tender age of five, he lost his father. His death left such a massive void in Abney's life, an emptiness he confesses he still contends with even though he is now a husband and father. Growing up, he was surrounded by the arts. When he saw the Lion King as a child, he instantly connected with Simba and Mufasa's relationship, especially how Simba has to work through the sorrow of losing his parent. Abney credits the Disney film in lighting his creative fire and inspiring him to use animation and storytelling as an outlet to help him process his emotions. He developed a keen interest in tapping into human emotion and visually showing it on the screen, which set his trajectory into the world of computer graphics. Today, he is a highly accomplished animator who has worked with such prominent companies as Dreams Work Animation, Disney, and Pixar. His impressive credits include such blockbusters as Coco, Frozen, Incredibles 2, and the soon to be released Pixar's Soul. He was also an executive producer on the Academy Award-winning short Hair Love; in short, Abney is a big deal.
Yet, with all that he has achieved, he decided to step out, create his projects, and tell stories that he knows will resonate not only with the African-American community but a broader viewing audience. Based on the synopsis released by Netflix, his first animated short Canvas is the story of "a grandfather who, after suffering a devastating loss, is sent into a downward spiral and loses his inspiration to create. Years later, he decides to revisit the easel and pick up the paintbrush." Abney drew inspiration for the story from personal experiences as a foundation to craft the short that combines CG and segues into 2D hand-drawn vignettes.
"Some years back, I was going through a pretty rough time. I was trying to make my way through the industry, find my space within it, and go through ups and downs. At the time I was around my niece, and I was thinking about her, and how kids operate, they are very carefree and don't hold that weight on their shoulders like that we get as adults." His acute observation of his niece, who was not yet jaded by the world, helped Abney melt away his frustrations and reminded him of an artist's core responsibility: to create. As he mulled around some ideas, he knew he wanted to frame a narrative that was not only special but personal so that the audience would find inspiration or healing.
The concept of healing is the most prevalent theme in the film, a process that Abney admits to still processing through, "Something that's been ongoing in my life which hits me every now and then is the loss of my dad, it stills creeps up with myself and my family." Undoubtedly, his voice holds guard to the pain he feels dealing with the void left from his father's death. As he remembers his mother being a single parent, "I would watch her navigate, and I would wonder if there were things artistically that she left behind because she didn't express herself as an artist. There are certain things that I saw that made me think that there was an artistic background there, with her doodling when she's on the phone or participating in plays at the church," he recalls. He also reflected on his paternal grandfather, who was resigned and often wondered about his backstory. All the complex elements that he witnessed in his family provided the context and texture of Canvas. "People can identify, not just artists, being the Grandfather the painter and can identify with loss that we experience and specifically in the black community. I'm sure other communities experience this as well, but there are many tragedies, traumas, and things we go through. We're in this position where it feels like we have to lock it away and move on; we don't have time to go through it and heal from it," says Abney.
The Grandfather's character embodies this notion that locked away his artwork and paintings because they remind him of a painful loss. During the nine minutes, the audience is not subjected to any dialogue. Based on his animation background, he sought to visually emote and focus on the subtext in a scene and unearth the simplest form of human expression without being encumbered by discourse. Instead, he focused on what the characters were thinking, thereby achieving a more pure performance.
The film took about six years to develop, and it was indeed a labor of love. While juggling a full-time job, expecting a child, Abney assembled a team to work on the film in their spare time. He pitched the story to his friends he knew from the industry and who he worked with at different studios to participate in his project. Once Abney had content, he branched out and tracked down people whose work he admired on Instagram and Twitter to see if they wanted to join the undertaking. Eventually, he assembled a group of animators that spanned three continents, the bulk of them were in North America, Los Angeles, Bay area, and spread out over several states. Natthawat Jamtaska was in charge of lighting and compositing in Thailand, and another animator constructed the hair of the characters stationed in Paris, France.
Knowing the challenge in animating African-American hair, which is not commonly shown in animation, Abney paid critical attention to ensure that compositing the hair was realistically portrayed as far as texture. "As soon as the characters went through the 3D modeling phase, I started gathering references; we referenced different actors like Kimberly Elise and YaYa Costa," he says. For the Grandfather, he cited comedian Dick Gregory, actors Morgan Freeman and Bill Cobbs.
According to the film's Instagram page, it states that Gregory was the first inspiration, "He has such intensity about his eyes. Even if you know nothing about him, you can feel a strength and presence in his eyes." Abney noted that sometimes black characters are usually drawn with curly European hair. However, he sought more authenticity, "It wasn't about it being curly but getting the right kind of kink and fuzz and how the light reacts to it." Based on the limited budget he had, he was satisfied with the results.
To gain financing for Canvas, Abney launched a Kickstarter and raised 40k in three days, the 40 days campaign ended up raising 62K, "I was blown away. That was a terrifying experience for them putting it out there and asking for folks to donate and believe in this project," states Abney. While he gained a significant amount of capital, it was not enough to cover all the film's expenses and he had to come out of pocket for additional incidentals.
Abney's content's immediate support illustrates how under-represented stories are in television, film, and amination. He believes Hollywood can improve this disparity by providing space for people of color to tell their stories. "I think the lack of that has been beneficial as well because it forces us to tell our own stories and not wait for Hollywood to do it for us or provide us with the opportunity to do it. It has given us that power to find a way to do it on our own," says Abney.
On the heels of the racially motivated social unrest the country endured during this past summer, a group called Black N'Animated released an open letter that included a bullet list of demands they wanted changed in the industry. The success of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse directed by Peter Ramsey and Hair Love animated short written and directed by Matthew Cherry, which Abney was an executive producer, both films won Academy Awards. As well as, the soon to be released Pixar Soul, animated stories featuring black characters are breaking expectations and the glass ceiling. Hollywood is taking notice that diverse stories travel and can be successful and connect with an audience with various backgrounds. Ramsey and Cherry's achievements, who are also close friends, impacted Abney as he developed his story, made him proud, and pushed him to continue his creative path. He is also creating a full-length animated feature for Netflix. "It was so inspiring, the main thing was not seeing that many black characters in animation growing up, there were some out there, but not experiencing that much of it to see the films being recognized on that level," his enthusiasm for continuing to create stories is not steeped in achieving recognition or awards. Abney feels he holds a responsibility to the younger generation to see themselves on screen, to give them a voice, and shape their perception of themselves.
There are areas where improvements can be made within the industry regarding representation. Still, Abney feels slow but steady changes are occurring, "I see more films out there on the live-action side and in animation, people have opened a little bit more about what's possible. Thinking of also Black Panther, and there was a rumor out there about how black films don't travel, but that was a prime example of a movie with black leads and a compelling story. You put it out there, and you see it has the power to do, not just at the box office but culturally," says Abney.
When asked if he thinks there are enough black animators in the field to select from to create stories that represent the African-American community, he responds, "I think there are a lot of people in the field. In my opinion, it's giving certain people a chance. There are so many people that haven't been discovered whose work is amazing. Social media has been huge in terms of finding those people." According to the 2019 USC Annenberg report, "In animation, 3 percent of animated film directors are women — and just 1 percent are women of color."
Abney recognizes the severe gap in job opportunities for black animators and sought to create a solution through the formation of his organization, Rise Up Animation. The program's purpose was to help people of color gain access to industry professionals and bridge the gap to Hollywood. Rise Up Animation exposes participants in various animation areas like modeling, character design, visual development, and production for creatives who want to pursue careers as producers. They have one-on-one sessions with industry professionals, and they can get their work reviewed, receive general industry advice, and help with their resumes and no cost to join. While they cannot guarantee jobs, they provide people with the tools to help them along the way, and past participants have secured employment at the likes of Sony Animation, Disney, and Netflix.
He goes on to say, "There's a lot of people creating videos and they go viral, you get to see the creativity and ingenuity that goes into these videos that people do sometimes with close to nothing like Ikorodu Bois [the Nigerian children on Instagram that remake movie trailers and scenes]. I think of things like that where they've made such a splash with their work, and it's not even about the production value of it; it's the ideas, how you interpret the world around you, and come up with something based on what you have and still make something entertaining. I don't think it's a lack of people in the field, it's just looking for them." Representation, as it relates to storytelling, helps to shape and change perceptions of individuals in society. Abney reflects that an idea can be infused in the story with relatable characters, and the audience is given a window into the character's psyche and perspective. Becoming emotionally connected to a character allows the viewer to expand their views and thoughts beyond themselves. He observes that "It's a nice way to create empathy for people we may not understand." The current climate finds society fighting the indifference long held against marginalized voices. Abney breaks through that wall by creating a theme that resonates with the audience, especially as many are dealing with immense loss in 2020.
He hopes that his film can still find inspiration, hope, and healing amid all this trouble. "I want to send the message that although we have to go through these traumas and bad experiences, having the people around us that we care about, be it, friends, family, we don't have to go through it alone. That's one of the things with the grandfather at the end of the story when he's putting that paintbrush to the canvas and he's still isn't quite there, but we see that his family by his side. That gives him that extra push to do it, and that's the same concept with dealing with loss in real life when you have those people around you. Not suffering in silence, knowing that you're not alone, and dealing with some of these traumas by using art as an expression, like your voice, using it as your therapy, or getting out how you're feeling. That's been animation and art for me since I was a kid that way for me to express myself," he says.
He advises future black animators who desire to break into the industry to tell their stories. While it is essential to excel at the craft, it is necessary to see how creators provide a unique perspective on how they interpret the world around them and how they communicate through their art. "I say being vulnerable and bringing honesty to the work that's going to connect with people. Tell your story, find a way to get it out because your voice matters and your stories matter."