You Do You
Thoughts About Finding Your Artistic Style
“But how do I develop my style?”
It’s a perennial question for new illustrators. And frequently, it’s a source of prodigious angst and frustration. There’s pages and pages on the Internet that examine the question of, “What is style?” A lot of the advice is excellent and I don’t pretend to reinvent the wheel on the matter. But what I do notice is that sometimes the feedback can skew kind of, well, esoteric. Questions of style can often devolve into a philosophical thought game, rather than a real-world, nuts and bolts, this-is-how-you-do-it take.
So… let’s wade into this one right now? My coffee is hot and it’s Friday, so I’m ready to go.
For the sake of this post, I’m going to define style as simply the way you see the world and how you express that vision. Practically what does this mean? Each person experiences life differently. There are commonalities (death and taxes, as famously noted by Ben Franklin). But at the end of the day, there is only one you and you will encounter the world in a way that it is completly unique to you. There will be overlaps with others, for sure. However, you have a one-of-a-kind of voice and in style, you take the time to express that.
Great. Sounds nice. “But didn’t you promise not to go all theoretical?” you may be asking. Fair point. Now let’s unpack this, practically.
In terms of developing your style, I’d recomend the following:
Style is how you see the world. How do you see the world? When you look at a tree, do you see the way leaves ripple and notice the twist of the trunk? Or is your first impression color: vibrant greens, autumnal hues or dark, roughened bark? Conversly, maybe you don’t see a tree at all. Maybe, right where that limb used to be, you see a crooked smile and above it, close shut eyes. Perhaps it’s not a tree at all, but some woodland creature entrapped and just waiting to break free. No one of these visions is right or wrong, but rather, individualized. So in developing an illustration style, try to bring to it your take on the world around you. If you’re the person that obsesses about the precise formation of a leaf, it might be a clue that detail-oriented illustration work appeals to you. If you see broad expanses of color, your style might go more impressionistic. And if you saw some woodland creature? I’m guessing you were raised on a diet of fairy tales and fantasy is your jam.
Study other illustrators, but don’t copy. I grew up reading oodles of Tasha Tudor. She’s been a huge influence on my own style. But side by side, our work isn’t overwhelmingly similar. There is, however, overlap: work that is rooted in the New England landscape, watercolor use and an appreciation for home. I took parts of Tasha Tudor’s world, understood why they resonated, then went back to my own work and made it my own. Another early influence for me was the work of Aubrey Beardsley. His use of form and stylization had a huge impact. Am I currently inking fin-de-siècle illustrations? Nope. But again, it was a matter of studying what resonated and seeing how I could bring that to my own work.
And if you are going to copy, don’t put it on the Internet. Just don’t. Trust me. If you want to practice drawing something in the style of another illustrator, do it in your own sketchbook and keep it there. Take time to understand what aspects you like about this illustrators work. Then move on, quickly, otherwise you’ll just become a knock-off. And you aren’t a knock-off.
Keep a sketchbook: The hands-down best tip I can give on developing style is to draw every day, even if it’s only for five minutes. My first job out of school revolved around me eating lunch as quickly as I could, then heading outside to sit on a park bench and draw. If the weather was inclement, I’d hole up in a coffeeshop with the cheapest drink on the menu (back then, a small coffee was $1.20, cue tears). I learned what I loved drawing and what bored me stiff. I could stumble and struggle privately in those pages. And I eventually emerged with what felt like a unique way of interpreting the world through picture.
Don’t Overthink It: Don’t feel you have to have your style nailed down today. Because (spoiler alert) once you think you’ve achieved, “your style,” it will change. Prior to 2013, most of the world I did was middle grade, lots of bright colors, lots of tweens, lots of digital work. But I got tired of looking at a computer monitor. And I felt like there was a disconnect with what I’d draw for fun and what I was drawing for clients. So I started playing with watercolor and colored pencil, muting my palette and stylizing forms. In 2016, Finding Wild was published and it marked a real shift in my work. What’s interesting is that around 2022, I began to feel stuck in my illustrations. Looking for an outlet, I began dabbling in printmaking. And increasingly, that’s a medium that’s resonated with me. It hit me when a friend observed that they suspected that printmaking was the thing I loved more than painting. At first I was caught offguard. But I spent some time unpacking the statement and realized its accuracy. Where is that taking me? Who knows. But I’m realizing that there’s been a shift lately in my own work and I’m letting that one evolve.
There will be overlap: A couple years ago, my sister and I went on a tour of Warner Brothers Studios. If you ever get the chance, go. There’s so many parallels between film and television with illustration. I learned that city sets are small in reality, to take advantage of the way the camera presents height. Nothing is forever and yesterday’s hit sitcom will get painted over and become tomorrow’s cop drama set. And I learned that there’s a type.
We were looking at an exhibit that examined how television shows are cast and it included a description of a character, physical attributes, personality and role. From here, half a dozen headshots were scattered around, featuring a range of actors who could fit the part. And by and large, they all had a similar look, but weren’t carbon copies of each other. That fascinated me. In the world of illustration, there’s a general vibe that sometimes a group of illustrators can embody. For instance, there’s a commonality in the work of David Wiesner and Chris Van Allsburg, but no one will ever confuse one for the other. David Small and Diane Goode both incorporate bold, loose linework, but retain very individual styles. I remember once an art director even told me that my style reminded her of, “A less creepy” (insert popular illustrator’s name).” I kind of want that last one on my grave, to be honest.
So long story short, acknowledge the overlap and when it occurs, enjoy being in good company.
So those are my top ways to consider style and look to grow in your own. Is it easy? Not really. But enjoy the journey and see where it takes you — it never really finishes, so take comfort in that.