Professional Illustrator

My daughter just turned six and is the most wonderful part of my life. She’s at that amazing age where she’s aware there is a bigger world that exists beyond our neighborhood, but still young enough that her imagination is foundational to that worldview. Case in point, if you were to ask her the most trite and stifling question that all adults ask every child without a hint of comprehension, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” she won’t hesitate to reply, “A princess rock star singer with one hundred kitties living with me in my castle” and hell yes, by the grace of God I want that for her more than she does. Deep down, we all know what a mean–spirited question that is even if we don’t intend for it to be so. “Hey small person who is completely uninformed and currently uncaring about the real world… when you’re neurotic and old like the rest of us, how would you choose to pass the majority of your day so that you have enough money to then retreat to a place where you can contemplate that choice?

When I was six and some dumb adult asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I thought to myself, “Well, I have a puppy, I love that puppy, I would very much like to be around more puppies, so a veterinarian seems like a solid way to make that dream happen.” Forget the fact that I am squeamish around blood, do not care to clean up after my own puppy, and have less than a zero interest in medicine, treatment, or healthcare in any form; that two–faced laugh from the dumb adult that just heard that response from me sounds more condescending than quaint, so for that reason alone they can take a long walk off a short pier.

The old adage, “Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life” however, is equally threadbare. Now I realize this is all taking a pessimistic tone, but it’s crucial for today’s post which centers around the fact that I am a professional illustrator. I won’t lie, it feels really really good to say that. I am in fact a professional illustrator who gets paid to draw as my full–time job. The irony is that the link from that “I love puppies so I want to be a vet” ideology isn’t a far–fetched detraction from when I was a kid to now as an adult. As I got a little older, I realized the second part of the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Isn’t just tangential to what you want to do, but what you can do. I thought I was decent at drawing so maybe that could play into a full–time job, but in all honesty, the older I got, the more I didn’t know what type of “job” those skill sets could accommodate. But I’m not going to bore you with that trajectory. Let’s just all get on board with the fact that I got to where I am, and today I’m going to explain the pros and cons of that.

Side note: I am hereby dedicating this entire post to my mother. The inside family joke is that one time I was very proud to show her a huge project that I had completed to which she enthusiastically said, “Wow! It almost looks professional!” Granted I had been an actual professional for over a decade by that time, but sure, “almost professional” is better than, “It sucks” I guess. I love you, mom.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I have been feeling the lack of a desire to draw on my free time because I’ve been doing so much of it on my paid time. I’m doing what I love, but arguably I’m doing it for other people, so I thought I’d talk about the pros and cons of what that is like. And seeing as we’re already out the gate with the negative, let’s keep that pessimistic vibe going and start with the cons of being a professional illustrator.

The Cons of Being a Professional Illustrator

Real quick, all of this is me venting and not meant to discourage anyone from pursuing their dreams or goals, whether they be an illustrator, veterinarian, or rock star singing princess. Case in point, the first con of being an illustrator?

Little Wooden Drawing Mannequins

Figure drawing is arguably a key skill set to have and it absolutely raises any illustrator’s game tremendously. The human figure is by far the most illustrated subject world wide. Sometimes it’s not possible to have an actual human model on demand and available to pose exactly how you’d like (and most friends and family won’t be keen to do this in the nude either as is traditionally expected). You can try Googling a pose that’s close to what you need, but even in today’s limitless selection of online images, you’ll never get exactly what you’re looking for. So what’s the the next traditionally available substitute? Androgynous No–Face McSlipper–Hands over here, that’s who.

A standard wooden mannequin, my snazzier wooden mannequin (who was also a mascot from my original website), and the interface of my poser app

The wooden drawing mannequin is as ubiquitous a traditional art tool as a nib pen. They practically give them away with certain drafting supplies at craft stores, but if you’ve ever used one, you know how fallible they are. They don’t hold a pose quite as dynamically as you’d like, they have no defining qualities like muscle or fat, they are completely featureless, and you just know that if they were real, they’d just bore you with bland trivia and complain about the lighting in your studio. If Pinocchio were initially a wooden drawing mannequin come to life, the Blue Fairy would urge Jiminy Cricket to immediately escort him to the fireplace. Yes, they make other, more dynamic mannequins but who cares? Incidentally, I use a poser app instead myself.

You Rarely Draw Cool Stuff

Yes, it’s a thrill to be a published illustrator and having the chance to work on a project that has (or soon will have) a huge following, but when you are an illustrator for any number of blanket projects, you’re not first in line to draw cowboys riding dinosaurs fighting ninjas. It comes up occasionally, but usually it’s things like a graphic to accompany an article about mental health, a helpful hand sign pointing the way to services for mental health, or a cartoon cat who is seeking guidance with their mental health. Yes you’re drawing, but you constantly wonder if it’s having an impact on your own mental health.

Draw Worser

This is an odd one, but you’d be surprised how often I receive the direction to “draw poorly.” I’ve worked on several projects where my work was criticized for being “too refined” or “too professional.” Sometimes it’s because the style of the illustration is supposed to look fast and loose like something from a tourist trap map. Sometimes the art is intended to look like a child drew it which always seems to translate more to “draw like someone who has just suffered severe head trauma and rather than go to the hospital has opted to sketch their family having a sad dinner.” I get the idea of what the client wants, but “drawing like a child” should never mean, “Draw like a wild animal is violently slashing a crayon around in its mouth.” There’s cute, there’s bad, and there’s subjective. Besides, why would someone who can’t draw, direct someone who can? Incidentally if you’re wondering, this assignment usually comes to talented artists because you actually have to be able to draw pretty good to effectively draw pretty bad. It should be a weird breath of fresh air to get notes back that insist that you’re drawing too well and it should be crappier, but I can assure you that it is not.

Unseen Work

The most frustrating aspect of being a professional illustrator is how much work never sees the light of day. There are drafts upon drafts upon drafts that nobody cares about of course, but I’ve done so many fully rendered (or at least nearly fully rendered) illustrations that never saw print or publication for hundreds of reasons. Sometimes the client changes their mind, sometimes deadlines quash the concept, sometimes you’re working with other illustrators and they manage to get the job done to greater satisfaction before you can, sometimes the project is just cancelled, and sometimes you just can’t show anything because of the professional illustrator’s thorn–in–their–side: the NDA. It’s all part of the job and there’s nothing that can be done.

Occasionally something may get resurrected way down the line, but by then, you the illustrator are no longer happy with the initial work and decide to start over. If you’ve ever checked out a book that features a lot of concept art for a project, you should know you are looking at an incredibly tiny fraction of the total work done. That’s just the stuff the publisher wanted (or rather allowed) you to see and it’s usually so they can claim ownership of those unused ideas as well. No artist just draws one picture for a job and that’s all there is. Whether it’s dozens of concept sketches or previous versions that needed further contemplation, every illustrator could literally fill a book with the work that has never nor will ever be seen.

My mom thinks I’m cool

The Pros of Being a Professional Illustrator

Okay, enough Debbie Downer talk, let’s chat about what’s great about being a professional illustrator! Being able to draw is one of those cool parlor tricks everyone wishes for; like sitting down and playing piano at a party, or randomly speaking a foreign language when a distressed stranger needs you to help solve an international crime, or juggling for everyone waiting at the doctor’s office before an invigorating colonoscopy. “You draw for a living?” A bright–eyed little boy marvels as you doodle a helpful sign pointing the way to services for mental health. “I do!” You reply knowing there’s now someone on earth who will briefly see you the way you’ve always dreamed of being seen.

Kids Are Impressed

Being a professional illustrator always catches kids off guard when they find out what I do. I am not exaggerating when I say literally every single child who has ever stumbled upon me drawing always, always asks, “Are you an art teacher?” This question comes to me so often that it depresses me to my core. Not because I think “art teacher” is a bad job (quite the opposite in fact, I think art teachers are the greatest and most inspirational humans on the planet), but because that’s the real world extent kids think an illustrator can do. Illustrators typically aren’t billionaires who like to eat trail mix before paying for it whilst browsing the dollar section at Target such as myself, but there are so many other opportunities other than just functionally rolling out other talented teachers. This is what expectations are though when schools eliminate the arts and music; you force kids to think there’s no other place for them.

But that’s all to say when they find out there are other options, they start to think (and dream) beyond their initial expectations in regards to their own future. That’s right boys and girls, this middle–aged, dollar section bargain hunter can be you. You’re welcome.

Work Pays For Stuff!

If you’re a freelance artist this does not directly apply to you, in fact this may be a con for you, but as an in–house illustrator, my job pays for all my supplies! Adobe CC? Work covers the subscription. My 22” Cintiq HDT? Work. New nibs for the Apple Pencil my job provided me? You guessed it, work! Because I draw professionally, all these toys and tools may not belong to me personally, but I get to use them that way. If you’re a freelancer, you can claim that stuff on your taxes I suppose. Freelance artists will create their pros and cons lists differently I imagine.

I Don’t Know How To Label This Next Part

Nowadays I do 99% of my illustrative work on an iPad Pro which means I get to stretch out on the couch while Netflix drones on in the background. That’s it. That is definitely a pro.

I’m sure there’s a fourth thing to tip the balance in favor of the pros, but honestly if you’ve read this far, let’s call it even and we can all go home early.

A letter from my grade school art teacher after I had reached out to him

I want to take one last opportunity here to mention my love of school art teachers with two short examples. My grade school art teacher Mr Megill was the first person who really encouraged me to see art as an extension of myself. He got me excited to try new techniques and I know all my classmates felt the same. He is one of those educators you think of when you hear about those special teachers who keep the world turning. Mr Megill is a super human and I adore him. The other is my daughter’s art teacher. One day, she came home from school and told me, “Daddy, Mr. Fourre is a way better artist than you! He’s amazing!” You think that would have knocked me down a few pegs but I was so thrilled to hear that. Kids need real world heroes other than their parents and the idea that she sees her art teacher as superior to me absolutely filled me with so much joy. Effectively, she separated me from something she admires more in someone else and man am I so proud of that. Granted, it meant the cat illo I was working on looked too refined and happy for the mental health guidance they were seeking, but I intend to watch season 5 of The Crown while I make those changes anyway.

Thank you so much for stopping by! Follow me on Instagram and Twitter for more reverse mermaids, Muppets, and whatever else I normally push.

Return to Innocence

Aaaaand that’s about a long enough break from this blog. Let’s get back to it!

This isn’t today’s topic, but I have been feeling disenchanted—or at the very least bored—with drawing lately because I’ve been doing so much of it professionally. This has made my personal time drawing to relax feel tedious and exhausting. You see, even though it’s how I make a living, it’s also something I love to do. The problem is that when you do anything a lot—especially when you have to—it can sometimes feel burdensome. This is a topic I will absolutely write more about soon, but in the meantime I have been trying to rediscover how to rekindle my love for illustrating. These trials have resulted in a lot of fun exercises (all of which I’ll also write about in the near future as well), but none of them were hitting their mark, and neither were previously reliable standards either. It wasn’t until I took things all the way back that I rediscovered my original muse—my childhood dog, Ballington.

1985–86

First off, it’s very important to me you know how to pronounce his name properly. The first part is not pronounced ball like a spherical object you play sports with. It’s softer and lighter like the touristy Indonesian province, Bali (incidententally also Ballington’s nickname). Ballington was my 7th birthday present from my dad who’s primary directive was to name all our pets after (founder of The Salvation Army) William Booth’s children. We also had a dog, Bramwell and a cat, Evie (short for Evangeline). This entire paragraph is substantially more information than anyone would ever care to know for a blog dedicated to art, illustration, graphic design, and creative thinking, but after my Canadian cousin found too much glee teasing me as a child by calling him “Barflington”, it’s become a bit of an idiosyncrasy of mine to over–inform on this one.

Ballington left and me (circa 1983) with Bramwell & Evie right

My creative pool of illustrators at age seven was understandably shallow, promoting cartoonist Jim Davis way above his station as my artistic gold standard. As a result, everything and everyone I drew looked marginally related to Jon Arbuckle. Jim Davis drew Garfield, so I drew Ballington. If you’re a Simpsons fan, there’s a 13th season episode called “I Am Furious (Yellow)” where a cartoonist comes to Springfield Elementary to promote his comic, “Danger Dog” resulting in every single student creating their own derivative work like Danger Cat, Trouble Dog, and Danger Dude. This is a pretty good analogy for how I was inspired to start drawing my dog after admiring daily Garfield strips.

All my favorites including my grandmother (1989), early art of Ballington (mid to late 80s)

I don’t recall ever thinking that drawing comic strips about my hyper–active English Springer Spaniel—who in reality humped any and everything—would be a career choice, but I loved anthropomorphizing him and would include him in absolutely everything all throughout my childhood and well into my adulthood. As a kid, he would express ideas and thoughts I was too sheepish to say myself. He had adventures with his friends, was a perpetual optimist, and wore every emotion he had on his sleeve. While he never strayed too far from his initial Garfield inspired design, he picked up other influences along the way, embracing madcap and overly cartoonish flare, eventually embodied by the 90s resurgence of the Looney Toons and the collective renaissance of animation from films like Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and Aladdin. Like every single other kid who draws, he was an OC (original character) that only mattered to his creator. His dreams would always surpass his reality and be a mega star to an audience of one. Deep down I knew this and when I would see other illustrator friends embrace and promote their own characters, I completely understood that love and pride they had. No one else knew who they were, what they represented, or why they existed, but they were very special to their creators. I think it’s the equivalent of someone extending the life of a security blanket, teddy bear, or in my case; childhood pet.

Various Ballington drawings from the late 80s–early 90s

Ballington would silently star in many personal projects like comics and flip books, as well as play the lead role in college assignments like my first ever vector drawing and gif animation. Bali would accompany my well wishes in a friend’s birthday card, a doodle made for a high school crush, my signature in a classmate’s yearbook, and even a presentation slide for a meeting at my dad’s work. The cartoon Ballington was indestructible, not just as an over stylized, personal mascot, but as a pet too. My family wasn’t able to keep the real life Ballington, and after a few years by my side, he moved up the block to spend the rest of his life with my grandmother. I still took care of him every day, but by then my love for the unnaturally proportioned, puff–chested, illustrated Ballington outweighed his own real life counterpart. Maybe it was an emotional defense mechanism to let him go, maybe it was the imagination of a suburban white boy who spent too much time day dreaming, or maybe it was the safe space of believing the inked version could never die when the writing was on the wall that my real life childhood pet soon would. Loved ones will always come and go, just like life experiences, but the cartoon creation of a seven–year–old is immortal.

Posters I made that hung on my wall as a child, my grandmother again with Ballington (and Bramwell, late 80s), and comic books I made of Ballington from 1988, 1992, and 1994 respectively

Variations and updates to Ballington between the mid 90s through the early 2010s

For a short time, my soon–to–be brother–in–law and I started our own production company that enjoyed a modicum of success. While Ballington was not our collective OC, our small sensation in the form of The Bang and Bump Show put me in contact with so many talented people that I was eventually able to commission the very talented builder James Kemp to make a Ballington puppet. I had to update Bali’s initial design for the obvious reason that I didn’t want Jim Davis to sue me, but also because that old style wasn’t conducive to a three dimensional puppet. James kept me in the loop with things like vacu–forming the eyes, shaving the fur for different styles, and dying the fleece. Having that puppet masterfully built and brought into the real world and off the reams of dot matrix computer paper my father brought home for me to draw on was a surreal moment in my life. I felt like I had completed something that I had always wanted to, and now that it was done, I was able to move on. Ballington was no longer confined to just my imagination anymore, so I effectively stopped drawing him.

Ballington puppet by @jameskemppuppets along with my updated illustration

Until recently.

I’ve always been quick to acknowledge that I never developed my own distinctive artistic style, and Ballington was proof positive of that. But I have learned new techniques and attitudes and was randomly doodling a dog this past week—trying to spark some artistic interest as I mentioned at the top—when I noticed he could kind of look like Ballington… if I wanted him to. It was an exceptionally humbling moment that made me think of the 1993 new age song Return to Innocence by Enigma.

Don't be afraid to be weak
Don't be too proud to be strong
Just look into your heart my friend
That will be the return to yourself
The return to innocence

The doodle–dog that inspired this post, Ballington IRL (as an adult mid 90s), my latest Ballington art and he’s still got it!

What a testament to the immortal imagination of a child. I’ve often thought the best way to grow as an artist of any kind is to push past your ability, leave your comfort zone, embrace your flaws and grow from them; but I never once considered that sometimes it’s the complete opposite. Ballington will most likely never have a weekly comic strip, appear as anything other than a background Easter egg in any media, nor will he break out as the star I always saw him as. I don’t say any of that from a defeatist point of view though. I say that because he’s not for that, he’s not for any of you. Ballington is for me. He always has been, and I’m so grateful to realize that he always will.

I’m hoping to keep this blog relatively consistent again, but the best way to know for sure is to follow me on Instagram and Twitter. You should also follow James Kemp on Instagram @jameskemppuppets as well, and if you’d like a brief but deeper dive into his time building Ballington, he blogged a bit about it too starting back in December, 2013 through March, 2014 that you can read in three parts:

Balli the dog for Dave Hulteen
Update on Bali for Dave Hulteen
Bali completion!