By Cora Secore

On October 19th, I sat down with John Quinn in the Neighborhood Print Studio to conduct an interview. John Quinn is an art educator who has worked with MKAD for about a year as an Animation Fundamentals teacher, stemming from his own experience as an independent animator. John Quinn is a personable and humorous guy, keeping his eyes open for any kind of work that catches his attention. It was a fun conversation to have, especially with his forward-minded philosophies on art-making.

“I live in Woodstock but work in Kingston,” John told me as part of his introduction, “So I was already sort of like, ‘in Kingston,’ but it’s nice to do something that’s not like a service job. It’s still a job, but you’re teaching what you like to do! It’s different.”

I wanted to know more about John’s relationship with Kingston. “So I found myself around here because I got a residency in Byrdcliffe over in Woodstock,” John explained, “I got that immediately after graduating from college. I’m originally from New Hampshire. I didn’t have any plans on moving, but when I got here it felt like an exciting new place for someone in their twenties. It was also familiar in the sense that it’s a small town where everyone knows each other. It was a combination of comfortable and creative. Everyone here has something they do, from gardening to textiles to painting. It’s a very supportive area that I found myself in. So I kinda stuck around.

“Woodstock and Kingston are in this metropolitan Hudson Valley hub. I just wish there were a lot more jobs in Kingston. While I live in Woodstock, I come here to work four days a week. There was a woman, Zibby Jahns, who used to teach here. I worked at a coffee shop and they mentioned that they teach here, and said something about how there’s a form on the website where you can propose something you wanna teach. I think it was just that conversation, a bit of a word-of-mouth thing. It’s great here too, I always say it feels like a high school art classroom. Which is good! You want stuff everywhere, as opposed to sterile. If you’re thinking ‘what could I work on’ and see a frog across the room, it helps you.”

I pressed John more on what separates art education from other work for him. “It’s nice to see people who want to learn from you,” John said, “It’s validating, and you always need validation of some kind. Well, you don’t need it, but it’s nice. [John laughs] I also just like seeing what people make. Everything I make, I see coming to a point. When students make something, I don’t really know what it’s going to look like until the end, which is exciting. It’s not something I could replicate or do in my own stuff.”

When asked about a specific memory as an example of a highlight in John’s teaching practice, John presented something very recent that stuck with him. “I also teach at the Art Effect in Poughkeepsie. That class is like high school enrichment. I just started teaching portfolio review to older high school students to apply to colleges with. An exciting moment was that class, I had made a curriculum and outline for that class, and after day one I was so blown away by how good and interesting the stuff they made day one was that I had to throw out my outline. I was like, ‘These kids are ready for major leagues!’ [John laughs] They already knew how to do stuff I was going to teach. That was cool! Those were exciting moments where you become a fan, almost. It happens all the time. It happens at The DRAW, too. I’ve seen people experiment a bit after they finish the lesson and I’m not shocked but I’m like, ‘Whoa. That’s awesome.’”

I asked John about what sets Animation Fundamentals apart from other classes. “It’s hard because with animation, you’re always learning,” John explained, “Which the same goes for any art. If you spend your whole life painting flowers and you have to paint a horse for some reason, even if you are an established painter, you have to learn how to paint a horse. Animation is like that too. There’s the basics to start with, but I structure the class around fun, like: Animate a horse, animate a bird, animate a bouncing ball (a classic one) as good fundamental things. Realistically, animation fundamentals are all trial and error. It’s pretty fluid too. Like, if someone is like ‘I really wanna learn how to animate a blooming flower!’ I think okay, great, there’s like a million basic animation lessons to learn in that so if that’s what you wanna do, let’s do that. It’s fun like that, it can be anything.”

I brought up that professional animation spaces can feel rigid. “I think one: rigid’s not fun,” John replied, “And two: this is a six-week course. You can’t condense a BFA in animation into six weeks, that’s how you actually learn all the fundamentals. In a six-week setting, if you just introduce it to somebody, they can go home and research it more themselves. There’s no perfect class that could teach you all that in six weeks, so there’s no point to try and teach all of that.”

When going into his art practice and what he makes, John told me: “I usually do stop motion. In college I made a thesis film that, for my expectations, did better than I thought. Everyone has self-doubt. At some point I wanted space, so I started doing 2D animation again. I flip-flop between drawn, which is what I teach in class, and stop motion. If I had all the space and money in the world, I’d probably do stop motion 90% of the time. Hand-drawn animation definitely takes up less space and is more financially beneficial.

“Right now, I’m swinging towards stop motion again and I’m galvanized to make or find that space, make it affordable, that kind of thing. It’s a lot of storytelling through stop motion. That’s my favorite thing to do. Lately [I’m telling] not that many, but writing and planning more things that are in my head. I feel like a lot of my writing is, not cynical, but how I talk. I make humor of the things that are bugging me. I feel like that’s how I write humor, it’s a way to air grievances. Like, if you have a character puppet, it’s fictional! But he or she or whatever the thing is is sharing all of my opinions. It can be anything. It’s not all cynical, it’s heartfelt and at the end of the day it’s entertainment.

“I try to keep my animation work entertaining as the number one thing because with a painting or print, I can choose how long I want to look at it. There’s nothing more evil than a fifteen-minute film with no story. [John laughs] Or not entertaining. I’m thinking ‘Where’s the payoff?’ And if there’s no payoff I’m like, dude, time is valuable. You gotta respect other people’s time! So yeah, [my art is] entertaining and personal. You have to make animation work for yourself and find other people who feel the same way.”

When I asked John what inspires his work the most, he took a moment to consider his answer before responding. “I think out of the cartoons and animations that I’ve watched growing up, the Nightmare Before Christmas. It’s wild because looking back, you’d think it would’ve been obvious that I like stop motion. I loved that film as a kid. Everything I watched while growing up, from kids cartoons to more adult stuff [inspired me]. But also real life too. Sometimes I’ll make an animation based on one conversation that I had with somebody, or something funny somebody said.

“Going to school for animation you see not only ‘artsy’ animation, but the indie world you don’t see on TV. That’s really inspiring, the indie animators too. It can look like so many different things, it’s pretty wild. I guess my peers inspire me the most right now. I think everyone needs a circle of artists, for sure.”

It was then when I asked John what his personal definition of an artist is. “You know, I don’t even really use that word for myself,” John distanced himself from the word, “It’s so hogey, but everyone really does make art. When can you start calling yourself an artist? Is it when you get a BFA? Do you have to get into art school? How seriously you take it? It’s kind of the same for sports, like at what point do you call yourself a baseball player? An artist? I just think it’s anyone who prioritizes doing something creative, no matter what level of success. People also struggle with ‘Am I an animator if I don’t work for a studio?’ Is it tied to a job? I really think it’s just anyone who prioritizes it to any degree.

“I resonate with that because when I started getting into animation and went into school, she would talk about me with ‘I don’t know where he gets it!’ But my mom gardens, and the whole yard is tended to, like there’s so many choices that have been made with little rocks and statues here and there. She’s definitely creative! She’s the classic mom that goes ‘I’m not creative’ whenever you have to do something creative, and then she does something and it’s creative and interesting, and it’s like, ‘What do you mean?’ [John laughs]”

I pressed John on his reluctance to be called an artist out of curiosity. “Maybe it’s just an internalized, ‘Ugh, he’s an artist, you know?” John explained while laughing, “It’s like what, we’re lounging around, eating grapes and thinking about painting? [John laughs] I don’t know! I guess I’m picturing a stereotype, that kind of thing. But I’m not too reluctant to be called one. I let it happen. But it’s a funny word, it can have so many connotations. But it’s also something creative, I don’t know. You could probably get a psychologist in here and get to the bottom of that.”

John Quinn wants people to know that there’s no real dedicated space for animators to meet and work together, so he is open to being contacted by any prospective animators who’d like advice or guidance. He can be found on Instagram @john_quinns_username. It was really endearing to learn about the flow that John goes with. The more teaching artists I interview, the more I understand just how varied the artists are, including their very relationship with the title of “artist” itself. John himself demonstrates how much an artist can be an entertainer, and I hope you will look forward to more of his work!