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Black and white is abstract; color is not. Looking at a black and white photograph, you are already looking at a strange world.
'Changes in Latitudes' began when I was looking at a photograph of a sea turtle swimming underwater. I had such a strong feeling for the beauty of this ancient creature, at home in the sea. On the spot, I wanted to swim with that turtle. I began to imagine a character who would do just that.
A photograph can be an instant of life captured for eternity that will never cease looking back at you.
When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone - it's possible. But creatively, it's more like painting: you can't just use the same colours in every painting. It's just not an option. You can't take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.
If anybody wanted to photograph my life, they'd get bored in a day.
After Hiroshima was bombed, I saw a photograph of the side of a house with the shadows of the people who had lived there burned into the wall from the intensity of the bomb. The people were gone, but their shadows remained.
Photography is a small voice, at best, but sometimes one photograph, or a group of them, can lure our sense of awareness.
Like, if you look at Heidi Montag, who got 10 surgeries she didn't need, I think that's unfortunate. I've always been voluptuous with a big butt, but didn't have boobs, so I wanted my body balanced out. My nose was fine in real life, but it didn't photograph well, so I had it tweaked for my line of work. I'm very happy with it.
In some ways, I feel like the strength of animation is in its simplicity and caricature, and in reduction. It's like an Al Hirschfeld caricature, where he'll use, like, three lines, and he'll capture the likeness of someone so strongly that it looks more like them than a photograph. I think animation has that same power of reduction.
My room is dominated by the huge painting, which is a copy of 'The Violation' by the Belgian surrealist Paul Delvaux. The original was destroyed during the Blitz in 1940, and I commissioned an artist I know, Brigid Marlin, to make a copy from a photograph. I never stop looking at this painting and its mysterious and beautiful women.