The first time I found out that illustration was a possible job I could have, I was a senior in high school.
We were talking about future career paths in class: what we wanted to pursue in college and how we saw art fitting in. It was my 6th period AP Art class and I was one of five students who had enrolled. Our teacher sat across from us explaining the different requirements we would have to meet by the end of the year to submit our work to be graded. She explained what we might want to work on depending on what type of Art and Design track we were hoping to pursue later on. Among the list was illustration.
My plan for the longest time was to become a writer. I had searched university websites with the keyword “English.” I had written my heart out on various papers and stories and blogs. I was ready. But art kept pulling me in. I would draw in class nonstop, draw at home when I was supposed to be doing homework, draw in the car. My free time was often consumed with art making. I just didn’t really think I had what it took to be a professional artist. And aside from that, the ambiguous question that looms over every eighteen year old about to sign on the dotted line of student loans filled my thoughts: how will I make money?
We all know the starving artist trope of course but no one knows it better than our parents - the people who want to see us grow up to be stable adults with an income (and are planning on turning our bedrooms into workout and craft rooms). So on the first day of university, when I called my mom and told her I was going to pursue Studio Arts (aka Fine Arts) I could tell by the slight pause and slow “okayyy” that she was imagining all of the possible outcomes of my schooling. But that job of ‘illustrator’ kept ringing through my head. To draw for a living (and maybe write my own stories too) sounded like a dream.
Then classes started…
University art classes were hard and I was behind - I could tell. In drawing especially, I felt the gap. One day during Freshman year, about three months after that initial call with my mom, I called again. This time I was crying over some tough feedback and considering the possibility that I might not be able to actually be successful in this major. I was sitting on a bench staring at the bad score on a piece I had worked so hard on. I don’t remember what my mom said to calm me down but I do remember leaving that conversation thinking that this would be a turning point. You want to be an artist so do it. You don’t have to be the best, you just have to catch up. But catch up to what?
I knew from the beginning that I didn’t really have as much of an interest in hanging my work on a wall as I did in feeling it on a page. I wanted it to be touched, dog eared, wrinkled. I wanted it to be shoved into backpacks and carried around and loved. I wanted to close the distance between the viewer and that big white wall of framed pieces. That’s where I learned about the tricky, cavernous space that illustration takes up in between Design and Fine Art. I had always imagined that it was just an accepted subset of Fine Art - that you could glide between galleries and less formal spaces with ease. But I learned that these distinctions felt sacred to some artists. As a result, illustration seemed to be the ugly duckling - claimed by neither traditional artists nor designers. To be an illustrator, I realized, was to have a foot in two worlds.
You don’t need a full recap on my time at University. Suffice it to say I had amazing mentors and professors who believed in me, friends who pushed me, and crazy late nights in the art building eating dominos pizza and painstakingly drawing still life assignments. And at some point, I realized that critique is meant to help not hurt. That was important.
In November of 2021 I decided to make the jump to full time freelance work and it felt a bit like that first leap into a Fine Art Major. There was no guarantee that it would work, no surety that I would be good enough to succeed. But I wanted to try - want to try. High School me deserves to know whether or not this dream is possible.
Now my days consist of talking with my wonderful clients and splitting my time between multiple projects. The projects themselves range from drawing-heavy to design-heavy. But I like having a foot in each space. It’s refreshing. And the gap seems to be closing every day. Sites like Instagram and Twitch have opened up space for illustrators specifically - where work can be shared with ease. So now I’ve fallen into a bit of a routine. I pour myself a cup of coffee in the morning, sit down with a planner I’m trying desperately to make myself use, and hash out my day. Some days there’s tons of work. Some days I twiddle my thumbs a bit and then work on a personal project. Often I have to listen to the peanut gallery in my head which is mostly just me shouting doubts at myself. But I have to be creativity. It is a part of me that is somehow even more powerful than all of my raging anxiety. So tomorrow, I will get up, drink a cup of coffee, and continue forward. And I’ll think about high school me. Right now she’s surreptitiously drawing in a sketchbook during Biology. I hope I’m making her proud.