The Creative Legacy of Howard Pyle's Teaching

Howard Pyle was the Steven Spielberg of the late 19th and early 20th century, before the advent of cinema. He was one of the most successful illustrators of his era and authored some amazing books himself.

Pyle was so legendary a figure that he formed a school of illustration at his home in Wilmington, Delaware, complete with a dormitory to house his students. It was very competitive to be accepted into Howard Pyle’s school of Illustration.

Once accepted, all your supplies, housing, food, and tuition were, well, free. Pyle even gave his students a weekly stipend of spending money! Imagine that.

But that wasn’t the best part. Pyle was one of the greatest preachers of storied illustration. Sure, it was important to learn materials, values, color theory, light and shadow—but his greatest gift to these artists was his passion for story and art. He knew the heart of a story wasn’t in the oil paint—it was in their souls.

He told his students, “Throw your heart into your picture and then jump in after it.” “Let your soul flow into your picture.” He wanted his students to fully immerse their hearts and souls into their illustrations.

Every Monday night, he held his now legendary composition class. Students would drag in charcoal sketches for illustrations they intended to paint.

Pyle reviewed each sketch in front of the anxious students. They intended one thing, Pyle saw something more, and he’d spin a whole world out of their smudged lines. He’d narrate their visions, letting his imagination soar, carrying along the students until they not only saw it, but felt it in their core.

This wasn’t about lines and shadows, it was about immersion into the life and drama of the picture.

Drown yourself into the work until you feel what your characters are feeling. If you don’t feel it, neither will anyone else. Do you smell the gunpowder? Do you feel the sting of the cold air? Do you feel the weariness in your blistered feet? Does your heart ache for the girl left behind?

The students would leave those Monday night classes clinging to the coattails of their teacher’s impressive imagination. He painted their pictures for them in their mind’s eye in such detail they knew what they had to do.

That exercise reframed the picture for the student and they would go into it with a new perspective as they clung to the coattails of their teacher’s impressive imagination. He painted the picture in their mind’s eye in such detail that they knew what they had to focus on when they set foot in the studio the next morning.

The pictures they made were not technical exercises in rendering, but expressions of story, character, emotion, and drama. He knew their technical skills would follow. The most important thing he could teach them was to be storytellers with pictures.

That was Pyle’s genius, and the legacy of his students and his teaching continue to this day.

That’s the gig for us animators. Rough out your scene and ask yourself: does it breathe, does it bleed, does it ache? Are those poses just pretty shapes, or do they pulse with story and soul?

You’re not the puppet master, you’re the puppet! Crawl into their skin! Sweat their sweat. Tremble with their fear. What are they thinking right now?

What would Pyle say to a room full of creatives today?

“Before you move forward with your rough drafts, your sketches, whatever tool you use to prepare your work, feel what the character is feeling. If you don’t feel it, neither will the director or the audience.”