As a child, I would sit transfixed by the glow of Disney classics, watching ink and pencil strokes flicker to life. Each line breathed movement, and each frame was a portrait painstakingly crafted by human hands. I imagined the artists hunched over desks, sketching and erasing, layering life into characters who danced and dreamed across painted landscapes. There was magic in the raw imperfection of hand-drawn animation, something tangible, as if you could reach out and feel the story beneath your fingertips. That was the magic of a world built by nothing more than a pencil and imagination. There was a universe where every sketch, every shade, told a deeper story than modern technology could ever capture.

But time moves alongside the stories we tell. Animation today has blossomed far beyond those early sketches, leaping from graphite and paint to gleaming polygons and digital landscapes. The shift from hand-drawn to computer-generated imagery (CGI) feels like stepping from a lush, untamed garden into a meticulously engineered metropolis. Disney, once synonymous with velvety brushstrokes and carefully inked outlines, charged into this future with groundbreaking films like Toy Story and Frozen. These shimmering digital worlds captured hearts and set new standards, cementing CGI as the future of visual storytelling. The warmth of ink and paper was replaced by the cool precision of the digital brush, and the shift felt inevitable, like some march toward the future.

But as today’s screens light up with hyper-detailed, computer-rendered spectacles, I can’t help but wonder, where did the hand-drawn magic go?

In 2011, Winnie the Pooh marked Disney’s last project with traditional 2D animation, a love letter to a bygone era that quietly slipped out of theaters, overshadowed by its shinier 3D siblings. The film’s gentle charm felt nostalgic, like finding a childhood toy tucked in a forgotten drawer. It was a farewell to ink and paper, as Disney’s feature films embraced digital technology exclusively. CGI opened vast new creative horizons, but in doing so, casted hand-drawn storytelling into shadow, taking with it the tactile warmth that had once defined Disney’s identity. The human touch slowly lost its warmth.

Why did we trade one form of magic for another?

The allure of 3D animation is undeniable. Light glints off meticulously rendered fur; water ripples with crystalline clarity; characters inhabit fully realized worlds so vivid they feel tangible. The technological triumphs of CGI ushered in a new era of spectacle and realism. Audiences demanded more, and commercially-driven studios followed. But somewhere along the way, we began to confuse the pursuit of beauty with the pursuit of perfection. We wanted worlds that felt real, but in doing so, we lost the wonder of worlds that felt imagined.

Animation was never about realism. It was always about imagination and stretching the boundaries of what stories could be, crafting worlds untethered by the limits of physics or logic. 2D animation has an undeniable vulnerability. There’s a reason that The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast remain etched in our collective memory. It goes beyond their stories but for the rawness, the vulnerability of their creation. They were not perfect, and perhaps that was precisely what made them unforgettable.

In many ways, DreamWorks exemplifies the broader shift in animation’s landscape. Known for its early embrace of traditional animation, DreamWorks produced masterpieces like The Prince of Egypt (1998), where the elegance of hand-drawn lines captured the grandeur of biblical tales with emotional depth. The Prince of Egypt was a triumph of artistry, a canvas filled with the painstaking effort of animators who imbued each frame with a richness that felt more than just visual. It was a labor of love, a spiritual journey painted in broad strokes. Yet, after this cultural milestone, DreamWorks, like many of its contemporaries, stepped away from hand-drawn animation in favor of the growing trend of CGI. Films like Shrek (2001), Madagascar (2005), and How to Train Your Dragon (2010) pushed the limits of 3D animation, presenting worlds brimming with detail and texture that felt alive but also increasingly sanitized; perfect, polished, and predictable.

DreamWorks’ departure from 2D animation marked the loss of an essential part of its storytelling soul. As the studio moved toward the digital realm, the vulnerability of hand-drawn characters began to fade. The beautifully raw imperfections of traditional animation were replaced with characters whose features were smooth, stylized, and sometimes stripped of the humanity that had made earlier creations so memorable. Even The Prince of Egypt, which had captured the grandeur of ancient stories with its heart and soul, was overshadowed by the sleek, sometimes sterile, CGI worlds of its successors.

This transition was not exclusive to DreamWorks or Disney. It was a shift that rippled through the industry, with each studio following the path set by Toy Story (1995), abandoning traditional techniques in favor of the ease and spectacle of CGI. And while these films are revered for their ambition, something has been lost in the process. Where once animation was a tactile medium, one you could feel with your heart as much as your eyes, it has now become a spectacle, a form of digital performance, where beauty is measured by the sharpness of the pixels, not the depth of the emotion. 

In recent years, glimmers of a 2D renaissance have begun to bloom. Studio Ghibli continues to craft hand-drawn masterpieces filled with wonder and melancholy, each frame infused with artistry that defies the pull of modern trends. Television series like The Owl House (2020-2023) and Gravity Falls (2012-2016) fuse traditional animation techniques with modern storytelling, proving there’s still space for pencils and paint in an industry driven by pixels. Indie studios and streaming platforms are nurturing these creative roots, responding to a hunger for stories that feel handmade, honest, and raw. The resurgence of 2D isn’t a return to the past, but a reminder that the future of animation is built on the foundation of both legacy and imagination.

Maybe the future of animation isn’t about choosing between 2D or 3D, but learning to let them coexist. Just as wildflowers and carefully pruned roses thrive in the same garden, both mediums can flourish, telling stories in their own language. There is room for both the calculated perfection of CGI and the hand-drawn imperfections of 2D, each having their own kind of magic. In fact, the union of these mediums might be where the true future of animation lies: a blend of meticulous craftsmanship and boundless imagination.

Because animation, at its heart, is not defined by its tools but by the imagination of those who wield them. Whether rendered by hand or by computer, true magic transcends technique. It speaks to something far deeper, reminding us that the most beautiful stories aren’t just seen but felt. And perhaps, in that blend of pixels and petals, ink and imagination, we’ll find storytelling in its purest form. It’s where the heart of animation beats strongest, not in the brilliance of the technology, but in the timeless human touch behind every frame.

Maybe the future of animation isn’t about choosing between 2D or 3D, but learning to let them coexist. Just as wildflowers and carefully pruned roses thrive in the same garden, both mediums can flourish, telling stories in their own language. There is room for both the calculated perfection of CGI and the hand-drawn imperfections of 2D, each having their own kind of magic. In fact, the union of these mediums might be where the true future of animation lies: a blend of meticulous craftsmanship and boundless imagination.