THE child bounds for the door but his escape is blocked by a towering figure wearing a sugary sweet smile.
The kindergarten teacher has him trapped in a room of naiveté and juice boxes; alone in the knowledge of the horrors that loom in the darkness of nap time.
This is the storytelling world of Vancouver animator Jeff Chiba Stearns, at once sweet and sophisticated.
Stearns' stories have included a Post-it note of uncertain genealogy who ascertains the whereabouts of his father, folds itself into a canary-coloured crane, and flies.
Other work is autobiographical, detailing his struggle to become a filmmaker and ruminating on what it means to be a Canadian of Japanese and European descent, besides having a taste for perogies with soy sauce.
What binds his work, almost without exception, is the dying art of pen and paper.
A river of ink once flowed through Disney's studios, rushing past the animators whose skilled hands acted as midwives in the birth of 80 years of indelible cartoons. From Mickey Mouse's earliest misadventures aboard a steamship to Fantasia to The Princess and the Frog, handdrawn animation was the common link. That era appears to be over. But while Disney and other studios embrace computer animation, Stearns is as committed to ink and pulp as John Henry was to his sledgehammer.
"To me there's a romantic notion of pausing this in the world of animation of keeping it old school and drawing on paper.. .. A lot of people are drawing on computers now and I'm guilty of that, you've got to keep up, but at the same time there's nothing like pen on paper," he says, speaking in the rapid cadence befitting an artist who spends his life cramming as much as possible into one twenty-fourth of a second.
Stearns will attempt to pass on his love of doodles, drawings, and sketches at the Classic Animation Anijam scheduled for Aug. 10 at the Harmony Arts Festival in West Vancouver.
After taking children through a few of the basic principles of animation, the kids will see their work pieced into an animated film that evening.
"There's a definite reward and satisfaction to seeing a group of drawings you've done come alive," Stearns says.
Stearns' use of the word 'alive' is instructive, because for him animation is ultimately about a single, vital component.
"There's tips and tricks and things over a hundred years that animators have come up with that help create that illusion of life," Stearns says.
Those tips and tricks include the squash and the stretch, so that the fingers stretching towards a frightened Dalmatian may seem to elongate as they draw nearer. Disney animators Ollie Johnston and Frank Thomas laid out 12 of those principles in their 1981 book The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation.
Characters should appear three-dimensional and move naturally, so that Ichabod Crane's long limbs continue their gangly journey even after his torso is still. Great animation happens through constant observation of the nuances of movement, according to Stearns.
"It's one of the most misunderstood art forms to ever exist 'cause I think a lot of people don't quite understand the process that is involved with drawing thousands of drawings. .. and trying to capture that illusion of life in the drawings," Stearns says. "As soon as you start teaching that to people they get it.. .. The walls break down."
And as those walls crumble the artists can tell their own stories, Stearns explains.
"It's trying to get kids to self-reflect and express their emotions through just doodles, or drawings, or things that come alive," Stearns says.
Approximately 40 years before the first film was animated, the flipbook was patented. That early form of animation can still be useful, according to Stearns, who plans to have the young Anijam artists pen their drawings on Postit pads.
"We need to de-mystify the process of animation for them so it's not so intimidating," he says.
Stearns is hoping workshops like the one slated for Aug. 10 will leave children with a lasting affection for classical animation.
"We want to basically keep an art form alive, or at least an appreciation for this art form," he says. "You kind of put yourself in a meditative state when you animate and that's something where the stream of consciousness comes out through the pen and onto the page," he explains.
"It makes the process of doing many drawings over and over again more enjoyable because I think there is a level of reflection that happens," he says, discussing his penchant for working at a delirious pace in a quiet environment.
"You could say I'm obsessive compulsive, that's for sure, which lends itself well to animation," Stearns says. "We're usually drawing thousands of drawings so I think you have to be a little OCD to be able to survive in this profession."
Before attending the animation program at Emily Carr, Stearns was fueled by sugar and the iconic Warner Bros. cartoons drawn by Bugs Bunny creator Tex Avery.
"Back then it was Saturday morning and that was it. You'd get your bowl of cereal and sit in front of the TV at five in the morning and geek out till they shut off at 12," he remembers.
Choosing to spend his working life manufacturing the intangible had its risks, but Stearns says he's happy with his choices.
"I work for myself, I work the hours I want to work and I do what I want to do and my life is never boring," he says. "I could just do production and make a ton of cash, but it doesn't fulfill me. The idea of giving back and being that socially responsible filmmaker and combining teaching and animation is to me bliss."
Stearns is currently working on an animated film entitled Mixed Match that deals with the difficulties multi-ethnic patients encounter when looking for bone marrow donors. The film is tentatively slated for a 2014 release.
