Though schools concentrated on filling the spaces and maybe even achieving some kind of imagined nirvana with hardware and software, it became rapidly apparent to those of us on the receiving end of those thousands of reels that the product most likely reflects the education that informed it. When we were learning about water, wind and explosions, we needed the technology. We also needed our water, wind and explosions to obey the director’s vision. In the education end of the industry, we had always emphasized art: so many times we found ourselves preaching, rather than advising: teach art; teach the students to see; teach them to collaborate; teach them to listen to criticism; teach them to draw; teach them to understand the power of composition within the frame; teach them to see; teach art. Over and over again. It became a bit of a mantra. Some schools listened, some didn’t.

A watershed event in the evolution of computer-generated imaging was the release of Pixar’s Toy Story. Suddenly, a critical mass of folks realized that no matter how great a film looked: if it didn’t have a great story, it wouldn’t be a great movie. (Seriously, think about all the great movies you love because you love visual effects. And then think about them without the visual effects. Yeah, right). In the aftermath of Toy Story, with its abundance of wit and depth, its intricacy of facial expression and interpersonal chemistry between computer-generated characters, a drastic reassessment of the role of training took hold. We wanted animated characters to be as full, affecting and nuanced as those the viewing audience so loved. Everyone wanted to make the next Toy Story.

And this evolution was all to the good, affecting both studios and schools. While essential studio structures seem to remain consistent, a couple folks I spoke with confirmed what seems to be in all our conversations: there is an increasingly conscious emphasis on storytelling: exposition, storyboarding, character development. We’ve been seeing great stories on European reels for the past several years: complex ideas presented in a mature, unhurried style, unafraid to include extended contemplative moments and not reliant on violence to create its drama. Thankfully, our most accomplished animation schools continue to pursue the same ends. By concentrating on the basics of visual expression, teaching the filmic language and pushing their students to dig deeper, they produce, on the whole, a higher degree of artistry, that nexus where talent, skill and knowledge converge to make truly great cinema. We can only hope.

Yes, it’s asking a lot. The student who wants to animate cute, fluffy characters (or, more likely in this country, mean, angry, threatening characters) is now required to understand how to tell a story, communicate that idea verbally and then develop that story visually. It seems we’re going to be digging around the halls of UC Irvine, Indiana or UC San Diego: schools known for their emphasis on narrative technique. The thought of animators taking creative writing classes is amazing: yet another step away from technology and closer to the pencil. Again. Ours is a demanding industry requiring multiple skills: skills that one person I queried suggested would require two degrees. And, though it contradicts our quest for instant gratification, it’s not so far out of the realm of possibility. Anyway, even then as now, finding your path in this industry is not about the software, the processor speed, the computer or even the pencil: it’s about the art, the story and the brain that precedes both. That hasn’t changed, and isn’t likely to.

Jill Smolin has been a grateful member of the visual effects industry for about a decade, and has documented the industry (before it was one) for about twice that long.