When we did 'Lion King' it was all drawn and now we use computers

“When we did Lion King it was all drawn, and now we use computers to do the work.” – Rob Minkoff

In this saying lies the quiet sigh of an age that has passed, and the birth cry of another. Rob Minkoff, one of the directors of The Lion King—a tale that once roared through the hearts of millions—spoke these words not merely as an artist reminiscing, but as a witness to the changing hands of creation. His statement marks the turning of a great wheel: from hand-drawn art, where the warmth of the human spirit guided every line, to the digital realm, where machines and code now bear much of the creative weight. Yet beneath these words, there hums a deeper truth: that every age must face the eclipse of its old ways, and from that darkness, new light is born.

In the ancient days, artisans painted upon cave walls by the flickering light of fire, capturing in ochre the stories of beasts and gods. Later came brush and parchment, then ink and press, and now pixel and screen. Always, mankind has sought a way to express its soul. When Minkoff speaks of the time “it was all drawn,” he speaks of an era when the artist’s hand trembled over paper, when the very imperfections of the human touch gave life to lions that could weep and laugh. And when he says “now we use computers,” he does not mourn—he merely recognizes the shift in the tools of creation, a transformation both wondrous and fearful.

Let us recall the tale of the scribes of Alexandria. In the great Library, men spent lifetimes copying manuscripts by hand. Their fingers were stained with ink, their eyes dim from candlelight. When the printing press emerged centuries later, the scribes cried out that the soul of learning would be lost, that no machine could capture the sacred care of the human scribe. Yet what happened? Knowledge spread like sunlight over the earth. The world changed forever. So it is with art—what once took hand and brush now takes code and key, yet the spirit of creation remains the same, merely clothed in new garments.

But let us not be deceived by ease. The computer, though mighty, can dull the senses if the soul behind it sleeps. When an artist no longer feels, no machine can feel for them. Minkoff’s words remind us to honor the craft, even when the tools evolve. Whether one draws with charcoal or stylus, whether one animates with pencil or pixel, it is the heart that breathes life into form. A computer may render the world with perfect light and shadow, but only the human spirit can reveal its meaning.

Consider also the story of Hayao Miyazaki, the master of Studio Ghibli, who resisted the rise of digital animation for many years. He believed that the rhythm of a human hand could never be replaced by circuits and software. And yet, even he came to weave the new tools into his art—not as a surrender, but as an embrace of change. He taught that progress is not betrayal, but adaptation, and that wisdom lies in choosing how the new serves the old, not replaces it. Thus, technology must remain the servant of the soul, not its master.

In truth, Minkoff’s reflection is a mirror for all who live in this era of relentless invention. The hands that once sculpted clay now type code; the storytellers who once sang by firelight now craft worlds in virtual light. Yet the essence remains: the desire to create, connect, and endure. Every generation must learn anew the sacred balance between old art and new craft. For when we abandon the wisdom of the old, our creations lose their soul; when we reject the tools of the new, we bind our growth in chains.

Therefore, let this be the teaching: honor the past, but walk boldly into the future. If you are an artist, remember the warmth of the hand, even when you hold a digital pen. If you are a creator, feel the pulse of your own heart before you command the machine. And if you are a dreamer, let every tool—be it brush or algorithm—serve the song within you. For in the end, it is not the tool that defines the work, but the spirit of the one who wields it.

Thus, the wisdom of Minkoff’s words becomes clear: the world changes, but the fire of creation must not dim. Draw your lion—be it with hand or code—with love, with wonder, and with courage. For though time may shift the instruments of art, the song of the human heart remains eternal.