Thumbnail, blocking, spline, refine… if you’ve ever animated a scene, you know it’s not just about moving things around — it’s about breathing life into them. It’s about making an audience forget they’re watching pixels or drawings, and instead feel like they’re watching someone real, someone with hopes, fears, dreams.
After over ten years working in animation — from studios like L’Atelier Animation to DNEG, on films like Nimona and Under the Boardwalk — I still get that same spark every time I start a new shot. That moment when you look at a blank scene and think, Okay… who is this character really? What are they feeling? That’s the beginning of something magical.
It all starts with intention
Animation is acting. But it’s acting through poses, timing, rhythm. Before I even touch a keyframe, I ask myself: What is the character really going through? What’s behind their eyes? Because the best animation, in my opinion, doesn’t just look smooth — it communicates.
I remember one shot on Nimona where the character had to silently realize something heartbreaking. No words, just a shift in the eyes and a tiny breath. That was the moment I realized how powerful subtlety can be. It wasn’t the flashy gestures that hit — it was the pause, the stillness. That’s the kind of detail that makes animation feel alive.
Thumbnail: where ideas take their first breath
Thumbnails are like visual brainstorming. It’s where I explore the mood, the acting, the timing — with no pressure for perfection. Just loose sketches that capture the soul of the scene.
Sometimes, the right idea shows up in the first five minutes. Other times, I’ll fill a page and still feel like I’m chasing it. But that’s the fun part — it’s a conversation with the character. I once thumbnail-sketched a dance sequence for a crab (yes, a crab!) in Under the Boardwalk — just silly poses and gestures. But it gave me a rhythm that carried all the way into spline. Never underestimate the power of doodling.
Blocking: the heart of the performance
Blocking is where the acting starts to take shape. It’s like carving out the key beats of an emotional arc. Big, readable poses — the ones that tell you exactly what the character is feeling, even if you paused the shot mid-frame.
One of my favorite parts of blocking is finding those moments of contrast. A fast reaction after a slow build-up. A sudden stillness after a chaotic motion. That’s where the emotion hits hardest.
Back on Nimona, I had a scene with a huge character shift — from cocky to crushed in just a few seconds. I remember spending hours tweaking that transition, trying to hit that emotional flip just right. When you see it click… that’s gold.
Spline: turning it into movement
Once the poses are solid, it’s time to go spline — where the animation gets smoothed out and starts to flow. This part can be tricky. It’s easy to lose the crispness of your blocking if you’re not careful. But it’s also where the real magic happens.
This is where I add overlap, follow-through, arcs, and timing tweaks — all those little things that make movement feel natural. I love watching a scene come to life frame by frame. Sometimes I’ll just hit play, and even if it’s 80% there, I’ll catch myself smiling because I can feel the character thinking, reacting, being.
Refinement: chasing that final 10%
Refining is where the performance gets polished. It’s the eye darts, the blinking rhythm, the subtle body shifts. Honestly? This is where I get a little obsessive (in a good way). I can spend an hour adjusting a head tilt just a few degrees until it feels right.
But that’s part of the love, right? These tiny adjustments — they’re what separate good from great. I want every frame to serve the emotion, the story, the truth of that character in that moment.
And when you see that final playblast… and your shot feels like a person? That’s the best feeling in the world.
Emotion and style: adapting to the story
Every project has its own style, and that affects how you animate. On Nimona, everything was bold, punchy, stylized — so I went for strong poses, fast accents, expressive faces. On Under the Boardwalk, the tone was softer, warmer, so I focused more on fluidity, sincerity, and nuance.
I love that animation is flexible like that. You don’t animate the same for a superhero and a sea crab. You adapt, not just to the project, but to the emotional rhythm of the world you’re building.
Final thoughts: why we do this
I think we animate because we love the idea that something imaginary can feel real. That a character who doesn’t physically exist can make someone laugh, cry, or reflect. It’s like we’re magicians, but instead of tricks, we use timing and curves.
And if you’ve ever stayed up late trying to fix a curve in the graph editor just because “it didn’t feel right,” you know exactly what I mean.
At the end of the day, animation isn’t just a job. It’s a passion. A connection. A way to show the world what a character is feeling, even when they don’t say a word.
And honestly? There’s nothing more powerful than that.