5 Things I'd Tell My Younger Self

I consider myself an introspective kind of person.

While I don’t maintain a consistent practice of journaling, I’m constantly checking in with myself: Do I like where I am in life, in my career, in my motherhood?
Oftentimes, I’ll change course, forever tweaking and attempting to improve the way I do things.
And the older I get, the more I realize there are no shortcuts for this process. That is to say, I can only learn from my mistakes… by making those mistakes. Hindsight is 20/20, right?

And yet, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share some of the things that I’ve learned from my years in the art world.
Perhaps my words may speak to where you are currently finding yourself in your own artistic journey, so without further ado, here are the five things I’d tell my younger self:

Don’t Take “Style” So Seriously

We’re always reading about how important it is, that as artists, we become recognizable for our style.
Years ago, I’d spent so much time trying to “decide” what kind of illustrator I wanted to be, that it put so much unnecessary stress on my process.

My children’s book style has evolved through many reincarnations. This was the style I was illustrating in 2019.

I mean, yes, in order to be hire-able, I’d argue that you do need to have a consistent look to your work BUT! I’d also say that style is an ever-evolving concept.
It’s not a set destination that we are in a rush to find, but rather a life-long exploration.
Much like I wouldn’t settle on one exact hairstyle for the rest of my life, I’d remind myself that my work will always be growing and adapting.

While I wouldn’t recommend wildly changing the look of your work from piece to piece, it’s totally okay (and wonderful) to experiment with small changes, and take risks here and there. It’s how we grow and become better.

No One is Doing You a Favor.

Younger me took on quite a few very low-paying illustration jobs from businesses and individuals that could have afforded to pay me far more.
I agreed to those jobs because I had to get my foot through the door and start earning some credibility as a creative. That’s sort of the way things go, and unless you’re an absolute prodigy, you may have found yourself starting your career in much the same way as I did.

But I also wish I could hold younger Shelly’s face in my hands and say: “If they found you, and hired you, your work is valuable to their business. So charge what is fair.”

This one is tricky, I know, because the competition out there is insane. And sometimes, there are dream opportunities that you’d do for free anyway. But it’s still important to remember, because while I don’t tie my worth to the number in my bank account, it sure feels good getting compensated fairly for my time, my talents, and the work I’ve put in over many years to hone my craft.

Push Though the Ugly Phase.

Much like we survive the ugly, awkward teenage years, where our face is too big for our head.. so does our work go through adolescence.

Whatever point in our life we decided to pick up a pencil and start drawing, chances are we’re going to hate what comes out at first (excluding those delicious childhood years, in which we create with abandon, and if anyone has found a way to replicate that carelessness, please shoot me an email!).

I have drawers packed full of unfinished attempts that I just couldn’t push past the ugly phase. In the last year or so, I’ve been making huge efforts to complete what I start.

But if we’re hating what we’re making- good news! It means we’re making something!
And also, it means we are trying new things, taking artistic risks. More often than not, those risks are fruitful, and we grow our arsenal of talents and skills.

I’m also constantly reminding myself of this as I’m working on some illustrations that just aren’t working. I’ve abandoned many drawings, dozens of half-baked ideas sitting in my iPad or my drawer.

But as I’m getting older I’m working on pushing past that point, and at least finishing the thing.
At the very least, that’s a victory in itself, even if the thing itself didn’t come out as I intended.
And sometimes, those illustrations end up being my very favorite.

Look Back To See Progress.

When I’m in the throes of Impostor Syndrome, I will pull out an old sketchbook and smile to myself. I can then clearly seen how much I’ve learned and grown.
I might also scroll back a year to my Instagram grid and cringe at what I though then, was so awesome.

But that’s also what I love about social media. It forces us to own where we are on our journey and put it out there for the world to see. That’s far better than drawing in secrecy and waiting until we are ready, because we never fully are.

An illustration I created for Folktale Week way back in 2018. I was a little over-the-top with the giant eyes and disproportioned body shape.

For fun, I recreated this piece in 2022. It’s interesting to see the elements I’ve chosen to keep, and the new ways I tackle other elements.

Know who you aren’t.

There are many times when I’ve compared my life or my circumstances to fellow artists I admire, and have taken inventory of all the areas in which I don’t measure up to them. And then the excuses start to flood my brain:

“Of course she can create better content than I can- she lives in a huge, beautiful city and is surrounded by endless amazing bookstores, museums, and parks. I just live in a small Israeli suburb!”

“Of course he puts out four amazing books a year- he’s single and childless- he has hours and hours to create all day”.

But as I’m getting older, I realize that those excuses do nothing to advance me, they only hold me back.

I’m grateful to be living that mom-life, and all of the responsibilites that come with that.
That means my work day often ends at 4 pm, and I catch up in the evenings when I a deadline to meet.
It means my creative time to dream up characters and stories sometimes needs to happen while folding mountains of laundry, and not while strolling Central Park.
But those very kids, those who thrust at me their half-eaten apples and wipe their snot on my jeans- those kids are a bubbling fountain of inspiration for a children’s book illustrator like myself.

I’m learning to seek and find beauty in the world around me, unglamorous as it may seem sometimes.
Even suburbia has flowers, and bright orange sunsets, and cute dogs in coats on rainy days. You just have to choose to see them.

Even on a mundane school pick-up, I’m able to find inspiration in a fiery cloudy sky.

Day trips are a breath of fresh air, and help me fill my creative well. Photography is a hobby that allows me to see and store inspiring imagery.

That being said, it’s also a great excuse to indulge in a day at a museum, or book a small trip.

So to sum it up…

…I’m learning to get comfortable with being uncomfortable in the process of growing as an artist.
I’m grateful for the mistakes I’ve made, and also hope they may be helpful to someone just starting out.

I’d love to know- where does this blog post meet you in your own journey?
What are the things you’d tell your younger self? Please share with me, I love reading to your comments!

Little People, BIG DREAMS: Louis Pasteur

How it all began…

Many of you might be familiar with the iconic book series “Little People, BIG DREAMS”, dreamed up and written by author Maria Isabel Sánchez Vegara.
Each cover features the biography of an important historical figure, and on every cover, their adorable bobble head shines on a clean, colored background.

We own several of the titles at home, and I’d always had it in the back of my mind that I’d love to illustrate one of the books in the series.

In June of 2021, I wrote an email to my agents. The subject line read “A job I’d love”.
In it, I mentioned that I’d love to pitch my work and be part of the LPBD series, and could they help me put that together?
I even had a specific figure in mind, can you guess who it was? I’ll put the answer at the end! Here’s one of the initial sketches to give you a hint:

My agents encouraged me to put together a pitch, and I started working on some sketches… but this was put on the back burner as I pursued additional projects at the same time.
The historical biographies market is quite saturated, and we knew it was best not to put all the eggs in one basket.

To make a long story short, we never ended up pitching the sketches. I emphasize this because it makes the next part even cooler:

Fast forward to May 2022, a little less than a year after I reached out to my agents.
An email in my inbox from Lucy, my agent, mentioning that the team at Little People, BIG DREAMS are asking if I’d like to illustrate the biography of Louis Pasteur.
Needless to say, I gleefully accepted the job.

I’ll dive into the process of illustrating the title, breaking it down bit by bit.

The Cover…

Knowing how important the cover is to each book, but especially this book as it stands among a hundred more in the series, I asked myself an existential question: To dot eyes, or not to dot eyes?
My style currently features both dot eyes and round eyes, and each project calls for a slightly different stylistic approach.
Here are the initial sketches:

Isa (the author and creative director) and I both agreed that dot eyes felt like the better choice: they made little Louis cuter, and his face read more clearly for young audiences.
That choice also lead me to my next decision: I would illustrated this entire book in a clean, graphic style. Still very much a hand-illustrated look with texture and shading, but I’d hold back on the sketchy lines. Colors would be very much confined to their outlines, and body shapes would be drawn at clean, angular poses. This felt fitting for a biography aimed at children.

I chose to create slightly stiff, graphic poses for the characters. I also decided to illustrate most spreads from a simple straight-on, front or side view as opposed to complex bird’s eye views

Creating Louis

This book posed an interesting challenge, in which I had to portray Louis Pasteur throughout his life, from childhood to late adulthood.
Needless to say, he would look different as he aged, but I had to find a way to make him recognizable throughout, especially when depicted in a spread alongside other white, bearded men of his age.
Isa knew she wanted Louis to be in his powder blue jacket on the cover, and so we decided it was best to show him in it throughout all of the spreads.

Just some of the reference images I relied on when illustrating the book. Can you see Louis looking dapper in his blue jacket?

But I figured I could take some creative license, and give him auburn hair. And just to stretch that license a bit further, I sprinkled some freckles on his face and gave him a cute little cowlick.
I felt that would be a nice little touch to make him pop on each spread. Do you agree?

I figured no historian would come sue me if I gave Louis freckles and a cowlick- the grainy historical reference photos left enough to the imagination.

Picking a color palette

With the light blue jacket being a given, I knew I wanted Louis to pop on each spread.
I felt a slightly de-saturated and warm palette would accomplish that, plus, it worked well with the soft tones worn by people of that time, as well as the wooden furniture that would be depicted on some of the spreads.

I picked a warm color palette that would make Louis and his blue jacket pop.

Green was the hardest color for me to incorporate into this palette, and I settled on an olive-y tone that lended itself well to the ochres and browns.

I loved this desaturated olive green for the trees and bushes in this book. It was the shade I felt worked best with the ochres and muted corals. Many other greens just overpowered the spreads.

A hidden metaphor

I decided to use the weather to show where we were in the age of medicine.
The first spread depicts a funeral procession, and the text reads: “Little Louis was born in France at a time when doctors didn’t know much about why people got sick.”
The scene shows a bare street, and snow has fallen and landed all around. It was a time of uncertainty and sickness. No trees to be seen.
As the story progresses, (and though many seasons transpire over the years), the spreads carefully depict the trees in the windows gradually blooming and growing. This is just a visual reminder of how far medicine advanced, in part, thanks to the Louis’ discoveries.

I used the changing seasons as a visual cue for the advancement of medicine…

The endpapers…

This was my first time designing endpapers, can you believe it? To say I had fun with this is an understatement.
I love creating repeat patterns, and creating this pattern of microbes was no different.
I spent quite a bit of time deciding on whether they would be dark, or light… and picking what I felt to be just the right scale; too small and the detail wouldn’t show, too big and it would no longer feel microbe-like.

The endpapers, along with the cloth-bound spine just make the final product feel like such a precious treasure.

To sum is all up…

I loved working on this book, from start to finish. I wish I could illustrate a hundred more of them.

Little Louis and me.

I hope you enjoyed seeing a bit of the behind-the-scenes of putting it together. Let me know in the comments if you have any more questions about the process!

If you’d like to own your very own copy, you can pre-order it here:

***Did you guess who I originally wanted to pitch for the series?
If you guessed Freddie Mercury, you’re right!

As 2022 draws to a close...

I write this post as we are days away from welcoming a new year.

When I was younger, the New Year always held so much promise, a chance to re-invent myself.
As a teen, I’d scribble long lists of resolutions in my diary.  “Stop picking zits” was one that made it onto the list year after year, to no avail.
And every year, somewhere in mid-February (or mid-January if I’m being totally honest) I’d realize I hadn’t met those goals and would feel like… a total failure.

So over the years, I ditched the habit of resolution-making, because I had decided it inevitably lead to resolution-breaking.
And yet… with the beginning of each new year, I’m still met with that tingling desire to start fresh, create goals, and become a better version of myself than that of the year before.

Fast forward twenty-odd years, and I’m a working children’s book illustrator.
The things I aspire to accomplish are larger, but the challenge remains the same.

You see, the professional goals I set for myself are tangible like “Write a picture book and become a published author”, but the steps needed to get there often feel like a blurry, abstract mess.
I mean, the ideas for stories come to me at the most inopportune moments, like when I’m in the shower, or moments before I doze off to sleep. They surely don’t come when I sit down at my desk, eager to write.
And sure, I write them in my notes app, blah blah blah… but what I mean is that my inspired brain and my working brain don’t often know how to cooperate.

And so oftentimes, for me, the climb to reach my dreams feels unclear, and I just want someone to hold my hand to help me get there.

As the years went on, bridging the gap between my goals and executing them became harder and harder.

I had struggled with this for years, constantly berating myself for just not getting my shit together. And then, somewhere during the last year, something incredible happened:
I was diagnosed with ADD.

That term gets thrown around a lot these days, but for me it struck a chord. And it took me a few months to come to terms with it, as I still held within me some stigmas deeply ingrained in me from childhood.

At first, the diagnosis made me feel less-than, or incapable.
I was sure if I just tried harder, I could be more organized, more focused.
For those first few months, my husband even lovingly teased me for using the label as an adorable excuse for being the way I am: a slightly frazzled, creative, day-dreaming astronaut.

But with time, we realized this diagnosis was the missing piece of a puzzle, and certain parts of my personality just started making sense.

Like my inability to focus on a task until I had cleared off my desk of clutter.
Like my tendency to start a thousand projects…but rarely finish any.
Like my phone being full of to-do lists, time-management apps, and reminders but with little productivity to show for it.
Like the paralysis I feel when placed in front of a chore that would otherwise take me ten minutes to complete.
And like the faint beeping of a garbage truck outside totally distracting me from a simple task at my desk.

Here I should add, I am probably on the low end of the ADD spectrum. I’m a pretty high-functioning ADD lady, and I manage to stay fairly grounded.

But as the years went on, so did my anxiety rise. And as a mom of three, the added responsibilities of staying on top of laundry and keeping everyone fed and happy… was becoming too much.
I constantly compared myself to other moms who seemed to have it all together, and my self-worth took a beating.

But with time, and guidance from my amazing therapist, I’m slowly learning to love that part of me. To understand and accept that my creativity, my creative self-expression is owed in part to my brain’s quirkiness. I may be an astronaut who forgets to launder the white shirts for White-Shirt day at my kids’ school… but I also let myself float to Imaginary Places to which many others dare not travel, a quality that’s very useful to a children’s book illustrator.
That spacey trait of mine lets me create wild characters. My hyper-keen sensory input abilities allow me to notice the world around me and capture delightful details to use for stories and drawings.

And a grey shirt on White-Shirt Day is a small price to pay, if you ask me.

Oh, and I have found some tips and ways to make my day-to-day more manageable for myself, but that’s for another day.

So, why am I writing this post?

For one,  I’m going into the new year with the hope of sharing myself more openly, more vulnerably.
Working as a picture book illustrator is incredible joyful and rewarding, and I feel so grateful to have made it my career.
But I think it’s important to also share the less-than-photogenic moments behind the squares on Instagram, the moments where realizing your dreams can also feel like a daily struggle to pick yourself up by the bootstraps.

Second, I know many of you reading this are fellow creatives. And if some of my examples resonate with you, maybe you won’t feel as alone as I did all those years.

With 2023 just a few short days away, instead of resolutions, I’ll be adopting a trend I’ve seen the last few years, which is choosing a word for the year.

To guide me, and keep me focused on where I want to be headed.

I know the word needs to be about self-acceptance, about celebrating small wins as much as chasing goals. It should be about persistence and small, meaningful steps in the right direction.
I’m still stumped as which word can sum it all up. I’ve got a few days to decide.

Can you help me come up with my word of the year?

I want to thank you for reading, for following along this journey of my life and my art, and I want to wish you all a happy new year.

XOXO,

Shelly.

London, Insipiration, & Other Musings

Suddenly it’s December, and I’m not entirely sure how we got here.
What an odd two years it’s been, and yet, things feel almost normal…ish again.

Travel was the furthest thing from my mind since the pandemic started, but I was definitely starting to go stir-crazy from being at home for so long. That overlapped with my maternity leave after having my littlest, two and a half years ago. All that to say, I had been at home for a Very. Long. Time.

All that changed over coffee with an old friend one morning in October. She casually mentioned she was yearning to travel to London, which just so happened to be the number one place on my travel list at that time.

Somehow, all the stars aligned, and a week later we had our flight booked and our hotel reserved.
I could hardly believe it. I know some people are spontaneous travelers, but with three young kids at home and so many pandemic-related restrictions, this trip felt nothing short of a miracle to me.

The first view I had of the city. It took my breath away, quite literally.

And off we were.
London was so magical to me, a breath of fresh air. It was everything I wanted it to be, but… more.

More beautiful, more twinkly, more enormous.

Within my first hours in the city, I met for coffee with my agents, Mark and Lucy, to discuss a book pitch I’m working on.
We also flipped through my sketchbooks to see if any exciting ideas were hiding in there. My agent spotted a character that he instantly thought was deserving of a story.
So I guess you could say I walked into the meeting with one book idea, and left with two!

My agents Mark and Lucy indulging me in a Waterstone’s selfie. Sorry Mark, I know you thought it was cheesy! :)

The rest of the trip was a flurry of museum visits, compulsory tourist selfies in front of red telephone booths, and endless inspiration. Vintage bookshops, historic buildings, and gorgeous storefronts.

Gorgeous shopfronts, restaurants, and pubs, oh my!

Oh! And you may have seen on my Instagram, but I had a cool illustrator experience! I visited the huge five-story Waterstones on Piccadilly, just hoping to see my books in a shop for the first time, as the foreign editions have not arrived in Israel yet.
When I found one of my books on the the shelf, I casually flipped it open, and saw that Zoe Armstrong, the author, had signed it!
I sheepishly told the sales assistant that I’m the illustrator, and was it ok if I signed this copy too?
Bless her, she replied with a “Yippee! The Illustrator is here!” and made me feel like such a celeb.
I totally geeked out and signed it.

The cherry on top? The sales girl gleefully slapped on a “Signed By the Illustrator” sticker on the cover. It was lovely, and I only hope I haven’t peaked too soon.

Hi Mom!

The five days went by too quickly, with only slight pangs of guilt at leaving my husband to fend for himself with the three kiddos at home.

But go by they did, and it’s back to business around here.

As I reflect back on my trip, I now know some things for sure:

• Getting out of the house is not only good and lovely, it is crucial for mental health.

• Travel is a luxury I know not to take for granted. It awakens a part of us, and jolts all of our dormant senses. I was taking photos of everything, and really seeing everything around me. If I can only bring a small part of that back to my regular life back home, that would be a huge accomplishment.

• I crave human connection more that I even realized. As an illustrator, I work pretty much from home all of the time.
  Treats like the Bologna Book Fair have become few and far between due to the pandemic, and I work exclusively with international clients, so coffee meetings are pretty much out of the question too.
  So I’m making a more conscious effort to have Zoom meetings in lieu of emails, and am making a mental note of just how important these trips are to my creative and professional life.

• Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t able to magically adopt a fabulous English accent. I won’t stop trying, though, and promise to report back.

As I know many of you reading are fellow illustrators, I wonder how you infuse inspiration into your daily lives?
How do you cope with the solitude of working from home?

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season, thanks for reading!