Deep Dive Into A New Piece

I recently had an interview where the interviewer said to me “you’re very passionate about what you do”. I feel like that’s a polite way to say ok we get it dial it back a little bit. I’m going to lean into that now because I figured out how to export the time lapses of my procreate drawings. Buckle up they’re coming whether you want em or not! Me talking about illustration over time lapses of my drawings being made..interjections of what I was thinking when I drew it…it’ll be great. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted someone else to do so here we go!

Here’s a thirty second version of the first one I’m going to tackle. I can’t wait to talk about this piece, the newest illustration I’ve made. Read more about it here.

more detail than you ever wanted coming soon

Feeding a Career and Being a Parent

Since having my daughter, I’ve been trying to untangle the knot that my different identities have settled in to. Freelance illustration is really really hard work all the time forever and ever. It’s sacrifice, exhaustion, satisfaction and constantly humbling yourself to share and update and ask for more with composure and confidence.

I have always been an over-thinker, but my time is so precious now so I’ve leveled up the neurosis. I’m cooking ten things at once trying to keep track of what I’ve done, what needs to be done and what I’d like to do. Everyday, I rank things in my mind into these categories. It’s exhausting and makes me feel sad.

My heart breaks for how complicated it feels to love my job. I can easily imagine this is a tension most women experience when they become a parent and love their career. For me, letting my work into the world without all the critique could be so freeing, especially when my time is needed in so many other places.

I was talking to my mom about all of this yesterday. When I told her about my dreams to just work on books all the time, she reminded me about the books I wrote when I was in college—one for my sister and one for my friend, Peter. Peter was a percussion major. We would have meals together at the dining hall from time to time because we both lived on North Campus and the music school and art school were both there as well. It was during one of these meals that the idea of Percussion Bunny was born. This morning I decided to draw him again. I think I will draw the entire percussion section this week. I’m trying to practice some tough love with myself to stop worrying how things will be received and just draw. To make then release things into the wild. Meet Percussion Bunny, a 17-year-old idea Peter and I had during dinner.

An Illustrator's Process | Part One

In my experience, a creative process is an organic buzzing shuffling collection of organized chaos that shifts and squeezes into necessary spaces like a pack of speed skaters or germs under a microscope and we have to let it if we want to see what we are creatively capable of. I have always felt I grow the most when I stop resisting. My process of making has evolved over the years because time required it in every form time takes. Experience leant a hand and the limits of my human body had a say as well. I feel comfortable in my process of illustrating today, but I am fully aware of the need to adapt. Finding a process has been uncomfortable, messy and frustrating one moment then exciting and intuitive the next. Working alone provides many opportunities for doubt and critique especially when I’m working on a new project. I’ve learned the importance of being confident in the way I create work. I’ve found steps in production that really work well for me and steps in respect for the work and the client that are of equal importance to me. Smash them all together and an illustrator will appear.

In the beginning, I worked entirely by hand putting pen to paper.

There were many many pens. I took I was strictly micron at the start. When the pen would die, I’d take the cap and place it to the line of others that had gone before it standing at attention atop the window frame. I’ve always felt more comfortable with pens. When I graduated from college in 2011, I’d tried tablets. Only a few companies were making them and hardly anyone had their own. Most of them, you had to look at the screen and draw on a black pad like a blind contour drawing. The tablets you drew on were huge, expensive and imprecise, both models took hours and hours to master. I clearly remember trying a massive Waccom tablet at school, looking so closely at the cursor to see that I wasn’t imagining things—it was off by a handful of pixels which was as good as it was going to get at the time. I passed and stuck to what I knew.

Me painting in 2011. Below left to right, a few of the envelopes, inking over watercolor, drawings ready to scan.

At the start, I would add color with watercolor but found both the intricacies of the paint and the paper itself didn’t scan very well in 2011. There was a box full of 5000 pieces of printer paper I’d rest my feet on while I worked that took me five years to work through. Corrections happened on a small desk top light box my dad (a dentist) used to view x-rays. I’d redraw the part that needed to be fixed again and again until I got it how I wanted. I know I did not need to do things this way, but I enjoyed the ritual. To my left an HP all-in-one printer/scanner quickly replaced by a Canon photo scanner and shelves with dozens of manila envelopes organized chronologically where I stored each piece of each drawing. This began out of fear of being sued or to defend a copyright and turned into a collection now sealed in storage bins in my basement resembling Warhol’s Time Capsules. Makes me cringe a little when I think about it, but things were different! There was no social media, I had an iPod nano give me a break.

It took much longer than it should have for me to leave my curmudgeon behind and make the iPad switch because I was calling my stubbornness integrity but my workaholic brain needed to take on more (I literally hiked through snow to pick it up). My iPad pro, Apple pencil and I are so happy together. Before you start to worry— yes I still have the drawers full of pens. I took that picture at the top minutes ago.

Step 1: Research

My research notes from an editorial assignment, 2024.

While the final application of an illustration does change my approach to construction and delivery, the process begins the same; with research. I believe in order to creatively represent something, you need to fundamentally understand it to the best of your ability. Fluency is not required when it comes to a subject matter in most cases, but a general understanding can lead to clever, unique interpretation. Sometimes a subject is so technical or complex that I request research from the professional who authored the piece/book/product.  The research phase is important to me.  I feel it shows respect for the client, often presenting me with material mastered in a field much different than my own. 

An illustration is the greeter. It invites the viewer/reader/consumer to participate and prepares them for what’s to come. Think of book covers, cereal boxes, newspaper articles. This is why illustration matters. For that reason, research matters a great deal in supporting carefully constructed tirelessly proofed content.

I read the piece, research the company, generally familiarize myself with the subject of the illustration. I like to do this first so my ideas are not effected by anything I might see in references. I find visuals influence my ideas so much that I need to take in the content before I look at any images. This way, I feel I can create work entirely from my mind instead of subconsciously being informed by someone else work or a reference I find. I write down words and phrases that feel very visual. If it’s a brand, I take note of their values and any imagery or tone they seem to gravitate towards. I look into certain aspects to further understand them so I can properly represent their key components. This is important even if the image is a creative interpretation. It needs to be digested quickly in a way that communicates the subject clearly even in an abstract way. Once I feel like I’m in a good place with comprehending the content, I move on to the specifics of the image. 

Step 2: References

Reference provided by publisher, sketch, and final cover design.

Moving from research to references will happen very naturally. Some clients provide their own references and many will provide them when asked. I use references for many reasons—composition inspiration, perspective, color, texture, expressions, mechanics to name a few. I like to organize mine on Pinterest in private folders. They have a ton of reference material and I’ve found this is the easiest way to keep it all in one place. At times, I require more technical references that I keep in the cloud but Pinterest is usually my go to. 

The subject matter and application of the illustration informs the type and accuracy of the references you’ll need. If I feel really stuck on a piece, references can inspire me in a certain direction. I’ll often share references I find with the client especially if there is a direction I’d like to go in that is difficult to explain. 

Step 3: Color Palette

Corporate clients come with branding guides in tow that include color palettes and editorial clients often have color palettes in mind already. If they don’t have anything in mind for color, asking about a general feel or style helps direct palette research. Consider the context, the audience and the tone when choosing colors. While Pinterest is also great for this, I often find great luck happening upon color palettes in everyday life. This is one of the hazards of the job—it’s impossible to turn off. 

There are illustrators, designers, and artists that find one palette they love and stick with it through their entire body of work. I don’t think I could ever do this. It’s so much more fun to explore the possibilities of color. 

I used to really struggle with color in my work. I would over think it and my work would just look muddy and dull. It was returning to the fundamentals of understanding color that helped me feel more confident in my color choices. For this reason, I embrace searching for color palettes in the wild. It’s great exercise for the color muscle and creates a library to reference when needed. 

In my next post, I’ll unpack the last four steps of my process: Thumbnails, Sketching, Revisions, and Final.

So glad you’re here to nerd out with me! How does the beginning of your process differ from mine? Process is an organic thing for me. I love to learn and hearing how others work brings me so much joy and definitely informs my practice. Please share! Until next time enjoy finding those palettes in the wild.

The Trouble with All or Nothing

I have been working on this piece for an embarrassingly long time and not because it’s a detailed piece (which you’d be fair to expect from me).

What I do for a living is also my hobby, forcing me to wear a compression sleeve and wrist brace to bed. Often my drawings for fun are born as ideas instead of aimlessly putting pen to paper. This one carries particular weight for me. Its existence, even in its current state, marks a beginning. A terrifying but necessary shift despite prickles of shame, regret and fear. In a way she is also a tiny piece of a dormant dream.

I have become accustomed to sitting down and starting something with a deadline either set by myself or a client. I’ve learned through lots of therapy that I do this with almost everything in my life. I cannot bring myself to do anything half way. I lose sleep over the paralysis I feel wanting to start something but fearing I will have to leave it unfinished for a time. I am horrible at estimating how long something will take. I’ll often say “I’ll do it. It’ll take five minutes” to which Kolin most recently told me is a thing I say a lot; ending with, “All of those five minutes can start to add up”. This piece has fallen victim to this tendency. It has been at least 6 months since I sketched this idea and while I will give myself grace in saying I have not had much free time in the last year, that is a long time for me to still be working on a piece.

I have a history of making this incredibly detailed work but I don’t find that fulfilling anymore just tedious. It took awhile for me to come to this conclusion but more and more I had been feeling dread whenever I’d have to draw more tiny lines. I can’t stop myself from drawing them sometimes, but it’s the pieces that are so incredibly intricate that really burn me out. I’m trying to be more intentional and challenge myself to find different ways to convey space/shadow/light without hatching away.

There are many different levels of this shift that I hope to get in to once I understand them more—not all have to do with literal mark making. Still even now it feels right for me and the version of me that exists as I type this. I am trying to start something new at probably the worst time. It is terrifying to think about starting something new with a brain like mine.

I just know I would like to try.

I don’t know when I’m going to finish this piece, but I am going to finish it. I keep trying to protect myself and remember that the world won’t see how much weight it carries for me. They will see an illustration finished and different than my other work. It will get a handful of likes on instagram and sit, finally finished, on my website. I’ll probably make a print of it for my daughter. When it is finished I will see the first step—the scariest one—in a new direction.

Changing Shape

Hi! I’m Lucy.

I’m an illustrator living in Pittsburgh PA.

Sometimes I do design work, but illustration has my heart.

After graduating from the University of Michigan with a BFA in 2011, I passionately pursued a career in editorial illustration. My drive to succeed and establish myself as an unattached recent grad allowed for busy career at the expense of everything else. It took time, injury, and important people entering my life to realize my work would only be good if I was in a good place—but we’ll save that for another day. As a life long procrastinator, I was so hungry for the adrenaline rush editorial work gave me. The tight deadlines were truly thrilling. Lately though, I’ve been really loving attempting a full night of sleep.

I have had the opportunity to illustrate books.

As my identity as an individual has changed shape, so has my professional identity. My time is not my own, which happens when you let people into your life in the best way—more on that another day too. I enjoy a project I can sink my teeth into with time to really digest the content. Books are that for me. Book projects started coming in here and there from wonderfully talented authors and imaginative design directors and I’ve absolutely loved every project. I love that I get to learn about new things and strive to really understand them before I dig in to creating the illustrations that will keep them company. I hope that the future holds opportunities to take on more titles and explore different genres. More books! 

Projects have come my way that don’t necessarily fit into a category.

I enjoy those just as much. There have been times where work I’ve created just for fun has inspired a client to approach me with something we can create together. My job is also my hobby, so when the two overlap I don’t mind one bit.

In the last few years, my identity has changed so much in every facet of my life.

Hurdles have appeared with and without warning and the fact that the sun keeps setting and rising means changing shape regardless of how I may be faring. For that reason it’s taken me awhile to decide that a blog is the way I’d like to share things with the world. Like many millennials, I maintained several blogs in the early 00s. One was purely to provide an outlet for the anxiety disorder fueling my insomnia. The other was one where I’d share my work, my thoughts on my career, and other illustration work I was excited about. A variety of reasons have created a natural distance from social media for me. And so I find myself returning to the idea of a blog. 

These days, I am trying to work the clay that is myself into a shape I can’t quite see yet. I know that I feel something different when I’m illustrating work where something is happening—even a feeling. I enjoy being challenged to find a way to articulate ideas into pictures. An art director once told me that I have an “incredibly empathetic and thoughtful illustration style”. While I never thought to strive for this assessment, it’s the greatest one I’ve ever received about my work. I hope to continue to make thoughtful empathetic work that’s imaginative and playful without reserve. That’s the shape I’d like to take.