Photographic Motion Analysis in Tai Chi and Animation

 Cheng Man Ching Single Whip

I read several facebook groups on Tai Chi Cuan and have noticed a recent trend toward analyzing photographs of past Tai Chi masters. This sometimes entails the drawing of lines over the photos to show alignments and to determine weight distribution. I am obsessed as much as the next person with “doing it right” but I have to question the process of ferreting out the “rightness’ of a three (four?) dimensional event using two dimensional tools.

Photography has a history of being used to analyze position and motion that is as old as photography itself. The classic example is Eadweard Muybridge  (1830 - 1904) who was an English photographer working in the American West. He is most famous for producing numerous studies of people and animals in motion using a series of cameras to capture successive stages of the body in motion through space.

Muybridge Sequential Photo Panel

In 1981 I wrote a book on animation called The Shoestring Animator, in which I used one of Muybridge’s motion studies, one called “Man Walking at Normal Speed,” as an aid to developing a hand-drawn animated “walk cycle.” It is thought that several early animation artists studied Muybridge to originate their own techniques. I pointed out that Thomas Eakins, a painter contemporary to Muybridge who used photographic studies in his own work, felt Muybridge’s panels were flawed since each successive camera viewed the action from slightly different position. I went on to say that the photos were close enough (for government work).

Animation is not Tai Chi, although there is a relationship in that both involve bodies in space and motion. The facebook posts analyzing Tai Chi reminded me of my own use of photos to create animated films. I often utilized a technique called “rotoscoping” in which live action cinema frames are traced and then rephotographed. To paraphrase one of my fellow filmmakers, Mary Beams, you can learn a lot about the universe by tracing live action. One thing you learn is that motion picture film doesn’t accurately reproduce motion. Here is why.

Because film is a series of still pictures taken one at a time, there is movement in between each exposure that is not recorded. Also, the frame rate of motion picture photography is 24 frames per second allowing a certain amount of blurring of the moving subject. Animators know this and exaggerate key positions of their drawings to make them more “life like.”

I think I blogged previously about the difficulty in using videos to learn Tai Chi. I remarked that the camera angle often hides or distorts some of the action. Since videos are not the best way to study motion, how can it make sense to use a still picture to learn Tai Chi? Photos of Cheng Man Ching and others were not taken as they moved. They were posed. Perhaps they were posed to display an emphasis on weight distribution or alignment at a particular time during the form, but I suspect these illustrations have to be taken as instances of the spirit of the movement and not written-in-concrete icons of the art. Can you photograph Chi? Can you diagram it? I think exploring the examples of the great masters through photographs is rewarding and enlightening but should be approached cautiously. I think of the book, The Da Vinci Code, and how searching for hidden code in the painting of the last supper really distracts from the ascetic enjoyment of a great work of art. I hope we don’t over analyze Tai Chi in the same way.

The Tai Chi Snob Drops Out

Picture me not in WI

Well, it’s winter. I live in Wisconsin. I have to drive for an hour to get to class. Need I say more? That’s my excuse for not going to Tai Chi class right now. I’ve probably learned nearly all I can about Sword Form, although there is always more to learn. Practice is always better when you are in a group of like-minded people, but I can do it on my own. Corrections from a good teacher are crucial to advancing in your art, but I give it a lot of thought. Did I say I’d be OK on my own? Well, I go to the Health Center probably five times a week and practice my form(s). I read a lot and watch Youtube videos of the masters. I think. I write. So why shouldn’t I drop out for now?

This is an opportunity to concentrate on MY form. I’ve had four teachers, studied three forms, (Wu, Yang and Sun) and Sword Form and Push Hands. From each teacher I’ve gained some knowledge and insight into a traditional, yet live and changing Martial Art/Health/Philosophy/Art form called Tai Chi Cuan (Taiji Quan). I’ve dealt with the conflict between what I think I know and what I’m being told. I’ve dealt with it by adopting what FEELS right, what MAKES sense, what WORKS. I’m not rejecting the bits and pieces that I don’t absorb. I merely keep them in mind as I go through my form, comparing, contrasting, considering….

After all, the REAL Tai Chi form is unknown. There is a mystique about the origin and evolution of Tai Chi as it came down from probably mythical Taoist monks and was held secretly within a few families and villages. The story goes that Yang Luchan, when called upon to teach Tai Chi to government officials, modified the form to protect its secrets. The Communist Chinese government almost banned Tai Chi but instead decided to promote it as a healthful exercise form, showing the outer world how strong the Chinese people were. And it changed again.

A few masters migrated to the US and Europe. A few Anglos traveled to China and Taiwan. What was a verbal tradition began to be documented. The five family forms became hundreds. Each master changed it a little according to their own interests. How confusing! Yet what a wealth of thought and practice. What a rich cross cultural experience. How easy to become a snob (all forms are equal, but my form is more equal than your form.)

If you are a beginner, find a teacher. Make sure that teacher has some lineage that fixes them firmly within the evolution of REAL Tai Chi Cuan. They can be health oriented or Martial Art oriented or both, as long as they know something about the history and development of the art. Read. Look at videos, but not to the extent that you become overwhelmed with too many choices. Learn the movements, then be willing to work on the details.

And don’t be afraid to drive through the snow storms to get to class.

Why We Fight

There is a wonderful scene in the movie, “A Christmas Story,” where Ralphie, having been beleaguered by the yellow-eyed bully of the neighborhood for just too long, finally gets pissed off enough to charge him, knock him down and thrash the bastard into a bloodied disbelief. The fear turning to anger and adrenalin rush are contagious. They evoke a common experience in a movie already  briming with nostalgia. I’ve been there. That was me being chased by a bully, turning suddenly manic and acquiring a supernatural strength and fearlessness.

It must have been about 4th grade at Washington School when Buzzy and Mert and a few others began to delight in pelting the wimpiest of us with rocks. If you were stupid enough to get anywhere near them at recess you might get pushed down and pounded. These were our formative years. Buzzy seemed unbelievably large and Mert, well, she could strike terror into anyone (could scare the pink off a pig). Mert may have weighed three hundred pounds and came from a poor family of equally obese parents and siblings. I once tried to appease her by going to her birthday party but nobody else came. That reminds me of the time I gave a Halloween party and nobody came. But I digress unpardonably.

Anyway, I did a “Ralphie” one recess and jumped on a kid who was taunting me, nearly putting him in the hospital. An onslaught of adrenalin doesn’t give you any common sense. It’s probably scarier than worrying about the Buzzys of the world. So what has this to do with Tai Chi Cuan?

Back in New Mexico, a Tai Chi class mate told the story of his encounter with a would be robber. He was practicing his form in a park one evening and a youth (read punk) accosted him with a knife demanding all his money. Now, you’re not the smartest person in the world to try to rob someone who going through a  martial arts routine. Brian probably could have broken the kid’s arm but he calmly stood still and said, “Gee, sorry, I don’t have any money,” pointing to his backpack. The punk rifled through it and left with a scowl. That was Tai Chi.

I often wonder if I could prevail against an assailant  should the need arise. Of course you could ask him to punch you very very slowly. But could I step aside to avoid the punch, meet it, stick and redirect his energy to send him flying? Or her? Having at least some knowledge of self defense and a smidgen of practice might give one a dangerous overconfidence but at least the fear (fear of fear itself?) can no longer propel you into rage and thus into unwise violence.

Hopefully I will never know. And hopefully, I’ll never meet Mert in a dark alley!