After the cel patent, an entire department traced each animator's pencil line in ink onto celluloid and painted the reverse side in opaque colour, matching custom-mixed shades across thousands of frames. At Disney and Fleischer the department was almost entirely women, on lower pay and with no promotion path into animation — a 1938 Disney form letter told applicant Mary V. Ford that women were not considered for creative work. The Computer Animation Production System replaced the whole department outright on The Rescuers Down Under in 1990.
Ink-and-paint artist no longer exists as a living trade. Here is what erased it, and which profession took on the work.
Optical toys and the fairground
For seventy years animation was a physics demonstration that became a parlour toy and then a paid attraction. Plateau's and Stampfer's spinning discs sold in their thousands across Europe; Horner's zoetrope drum let several people watch at once; Reynaud's praxinoscope put a mirror drum in middle-class living rooms before he scaled it into a Paris theatre. The people making the pictures were not called animators and mostly were not credited at all, but the core discipline — draw the phases of a motion in order, at a fixed interval — was already fully formed.
What else was happening then
Charles-Émile Reynaud's Théâtre Optique opened at the Musée Grévin in Paris on 28 October 1892 with Pauvre Pierrot and two other pantomimes, each hand-painted frame by frame onto a perforated band and projected behind a live piano accompaniment. It predates the Lumière brothers' first paying screening by three years, which makes projected animation, strictly speaking, older than projected film.
Émile Courtet, working as Émile Cohl, premiered Fantasmagorie at the Théâtre du Gymnase in Paris on 17 August 1908: roughly seven hundred ink drawings on paper, shot one frame at a time and printed as a negative so the black lines read as chalk on a blackboard. Cohl was fifty-one, a caricaturist with no film background, and had been at Gaumont barely a year.
Winsor McCay premiered Gertie as a vaudeville act at Chicago's Palace Theater in February 1914, standing beside the screen with a whip, coaxing and scolding a dinosaur who obeyed, sulked and wept on cue. He drew about ten thousand sheets himself while an assistant, John Fitzsimmons, traced the background onto every one. At the finish McCay walked behind the screen and reappeared, drawn, riding on Gertie's back.
Earl Hurd filed a patent in December 1914, granted the following year, for drawing characters on transparent celluloid sheets laid over a single painted background; John Randolph Bray pooled it with his own registration patents. Overnight, animation stopped being one artist redrawing everything and became an assembly line of key animators, in-betweeners, inkers, painters and camera operators — the structure the trade still uses.
Where that work lives now
The artist who decides what happens between the drawings — from Reynaud's hand-painted Paris projections to a Latvian Oscar winner made in free software.
🎞️ Animator →