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This is a process & ideas blog from the secret attic headquarters of Meg Hunt, who lives and makes in Portland, Oregon.

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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

~ - Devendra Banhart

(song by Devendra Banhart, off Cripple Crow— seems fitting)

I was thinking last night upon my sorely-neglected inbox and my Formspring, and the questions I often get from younger people/students— how it winds up feeling very much a repeating-record act. And as it’s (I’m guessing) approaching the start of another school year, I’d better get a FAQ ready to put questions to rest (protip: students, stretch your legs and think of atypical questions! Your illustrators will thank you.) The funny thing is synchronicity seems to be occurring a lot lately— yesterday, Frank wrote this, and it’s a lot broader and better than anything I have to say, but still I want to tackle my thought.

The most common question I get is how. I never really get asked the why, which may not be necessary, but it gets very saddening to just talk about the technical skills in Photoshop. Don’t get me wrong, I love talking shop and sharing process— but after a while I start feeling like that’s all there is to me. I start thinking about how one day I’d like to do talks and explore concepts I’m interested in like some of my friends, but I’m not there yet. (Too many pint-sized thoughts I need to nourish, soon hopefully) But I’ll indulge. Would you like to know my secrets? The best advice I can give you as a young student or illustrator? 

Play.

The fact is this is a purer answer than any ‘layers and levels’ talk I could give you in Photoshop. The fact is, you probably know more than me, and you’ll figure out things faster and smarter than I ever do.  But technical skill is hardly my realm, and that’s why I play. A few years ago, I was devoted to getting good at my tools. I needed that then, just like you do. At the time I was getting used to handling brushes, and learning Photoshop (which I hadn’t touched until I had graduated college anyhow). I still don’t know most of what it can do, and don’t get me started with vectors! But now, I’m noticing a change that has been mounting steadily in my work. No two illustrations are approached in the same way lately; but the point is that there is a lot of physical play involved. I can sort of blame college for making me love making messes and constantly feel the urge to make sense of the chaos. Everything is in pieces waiting to be resolved, not unlike those heady days in the printshop basement where a sort of insomnia-induced alchemy happened and an image came together. Sometimes I paint on paper and scan that. Sometimes I dry-brush. Sometimes I scan in additional layers of gouache or graphite powder. But there is a lot of remixing and playing going on. The more I do this, the fresher things get. I have no set process— only that there are some analog elements and others that come together in this magic screen. 

The point is, playing is the only thing that keeps me sane. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep working. Knowing your tools inside and out is great, but sometimes stumbling blindly is more productive. I know three months down the line, the things I’ve made today will feel clumsy and I’ll be pushing to play some more. But now, I recognize this is how it goes—the more I act like a child in my work, the happier I am. I suspect this might be true for you too.


Reading things lately has gotten me on a big kick of why. We all have some kind of message to share, and it’s teasing it out from the bramble that’s the tough part. I know it’s not just that I’m not good at anything else; there’s a reason why illustration appeals to me, and a reason I can admire all the conceptual pieces in the world but cannot wrap my brain around creating them. I make scenes, I help tell stories— that’s the point of Picture Book Report. Loose elements are hard for me— I guess I need a backdrop and a story to tell. This is why character design appeals to me so, and animation, and all these things. But I suppose deep down my main goal is a really simple one, almost naive— I want to bring people together and make people happy. The world is an alternately beautiful and horrible place and will continue to be that way long after I’m gone— but if the things I can make and do can build new experiences but also give a break from all the overstimulation of day-to-day life, then I feel like I’m doing my job (for now, anyway) right. I envy some of my friends for having a stronger message, but simple can be good too.