The Adoration of the Magi (detail), by Giotto, ca. 1305

The northern Italian city of Padua offers an elegant, leisurely setting of history and art, without the madding crowd of tourists in its more famous neighbor Venice, located twenty-two miles away. There's a university established in 1222 that houses the observatory where Galileo tracked the stars and birthed modern science; magnificent churches, including the cavernously ornate Basilica di Sant Antonio; spacious plazas and excellent restaurants; Orto Botanico, the world’s oldest botanical garden, containing a 425-year old palm tree that Goethe admired in 1786 (!); a multitude of statues, frescos, paintings and architecture by the likes of Donatello, Montegne, Veronese, and Michelangelo.

Animators (and filmmakers in general) can learn from studying Giotto’s communication techniques and applying them to their films, which is what I believe Albert Hurter did in Walt Disney’s first feature, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). An excellent draftsman, Hurter (1883-1942) arrived at the Disney studio in 1931 at age 48 with an extensive background in fine arts training and study in Europe. He brought an encyclopedic knowledge of art history and artists, often regaling his cartoonist colleagues with vivid descriptions of the art of Vincent Van Gogh, Herman Vogel, Honoré Daumier, Gustave Doré, Franz Stuck, and Heinrich Kley, among others. Hurter became the Disney studio’s first “inspirational sketch” artist creating hundreds of imaginative conceptual drawings for personality gags and visualizations to inspire the directors, writers, storyboard artists and animators. 

 

 

Hurter's influence is pervasive throughout Snow White. One particular sequence became a breakthrough in the art of character animation: the seven dwarfs grieving (sketch, above) over the inert body of Snow White. For Disney, it was a daring gamble. He hoped audiences would suspend disbelief and empathize with the emotions expressed by cartoon characters, who were mourning the “death” of another toon. In dozens of sketches, Hurter searched for the right body language and facial expressions for the dwarfs. He studied how to position the characters around the bier within a cottage setting. He sketched out ideas for lighting, mood, and so on. His creative search, to my mind and eye, was similar to Giotto’s process in creating the Lamentation fresco in Scrovegni Chapel.

 

 

It is reasonable to assume that Hurter knew of, and perhaps found useful, the composition, figure cluster, and gestures of the 14th century master. Giotto’s composition of individual figures each grieve in their own way—some quietly mournful, others screaming in horror—and act as guideposts, leading our eye to the prostrate Christ embraced in his mother’s arms. Above, ten angels mirror the scene, in their own distinctive mourning poses and expressions. Hurter’s dwarfs display sorrow in seven distinct ways: staring in disbelief, weeping openly, some so distraught they avoid looking at the radiant princess’ body, whose glow rivals the light emanating from the candles behind her. When master animator Frank Thomas, delicately, subtly, transformed Hurter’s idea sketches into animation drawings, audiences wept as well.