Why do you do the things you do?

Emily McDowell

If I had to say one thing, it’s that it’s an interesting curve – this little spot that I carved out of the internet called Pikaland.

Six years ago I was a magazine editor running around, organizing, writing, commissioning, reviewing, interviewing, and reading – all in the name of architecture and design. When I was 12 me and my friends talked about how our careers would look like when we were all grown up. I wanted to be a magazine editor, and travel the world. I did the first, though not so much the second. Yet. So it was check and done, and I moved on.

I read voraciously. If you could imagine a hungry person shoving food into their mouths like their life depended on it, then words were my nourishment. I became enthralled with illustrations. I still kept the beautiful picture books from when I was young, silverfish be damned. When I walked into a bookstore and felt my whole skin tingle from the top of my head to my very toes. And the need to pee badly. That would have meant I was in the vicinity of books. Hundreds of them.

I was curious. I was hungry. I had this massive itch that could only be quelled through research into this wonderful new world of illustration that I had found. So I started a blog to share what I uncovered. This blog.

Back then, I started posting about illustrators who had online shops that I could peruse – the ones I’d discover on Etsy, or on other blogs and the ones that I came across in magazines and books. I was engrossed in how they turned their craft into something that was also functional. Prints, totes, books, stationery – they swept me off my feet. It was not only just about illustrations, but about the entrepreneurial spirit of artists. The blog became my little scrapbook – snippets of illustrators along with words I’d put together to verbalize what I absorbed.

It was also a way of educating myself. I wanted to understand the field – how things were done, how an image was made, a story was told. I found it magical that people could make a living at doing something that they loved. I sharpened my senses and learned on the fly, digging deep and challenged myself by asking questions that I was only happy to prod. The questions always started with a “why”, more than the “how”, which is why you’ll find that I hardly dive into the technicalities behind illustrations. It was never about trying to recreate the work of any artist, rather it was the need for me to get into their heads, to find out why they did what they did. For me it was always the story – its essence and the message that flows from the artist, to me, the viewer.

The first few years of starting this blog saw me writing almost everyday about the illustrators I’ve discovered. In turn I got some fans. I started to take on illustration commissions, and after a couple of years, I stopped. I wrote some more. By the fourth year, my writings had veered towards finding patterns from one illustrator to another. I knew how to read into the intent of an artist. My search into meaning continues and I subconsciously look for ways to be surprised, taken in, amused. And when I arrive at that magical point in time where I go “A-ha!” – it’s like uncovering a secret treasure, something private that’s only shared between me and them. I love the feeling.

And with the fifth and now sixth year, more changes crept in. Writing about new illustrators I’d found didn’t seem necessary any more (although I still did my research) since the invention of Pinterest and Tumblr, where new works from artists could be repinned, forwarded and linked with an ease that was never available before. My work as an adjunct teacher at a local college of design (where I teach about creativity and the illustration process since 2012) has also spurred my confidence that I could make a difference, no matter how small it may be. I’ve found the intersection of my passions, and a renewed sense of purpose along with it.

It was never about trying to recreate the work of any artist, rather it was the need for me to get into their heads, to find out why they did what they did. 

So now, instead of breadth, I am going for depth. All those years of looking, watching, and researching has helped shaped my worldview of the current situation of illustration, where I’ve gathered great feedback from all of you (thank you readers!) and it’s also where I’ve subconsciously noticed a pattern and an evergreen process on how to manage one’s creative business through my own experiences as a freelancer while running Pikaland.

Steve Jobs’ quote from his commencement address in 2005 said it best – “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.” So here I am. I’ve connected my dots, all of which has lead me to this very moment. I look forward to making a difference and laying down more dots in time and I hope you’ll join me.

SHARE WITH ME:

Why do you do what you do? Look back at your own history and try to connect the dots – what can you see? Write down your revelations in the comments below – I’d love to hear your story!

[Image: Emily McDowell’s Louisa May Alcott “Little Women” Not Afraid of Storms Quote, Hand-Lettered Print, via Etsy]

The Infinite Corpse

The Infinite Corpse

The Infinite Corpse

The Infinite Corpse

As I was researching about the game The Exquisite Corpse, I stumbled on The Infinite Corpse online collaborative comic, where instead of dissecting a character with different segments in the 1920’s French Surrealist parlor game, the  comic takes its idea from The Narrative Corpse book put out by RAW in the 90s.

Here’s a bit more about the Infinite Corpse:

[quote]In The Narrative Corpse, 69 cartoonists drew 3 panels after another each only seeing the 3 before them. The Infinite Corpse picked up the story right where The Narrative Corpse left off, except instead of the character “Sticky” in that book, we have “Corpsey.” Picture him as Sticky with all of his flesh rotted off. ButThe Infinite Corpse is not a book, and will never be a printed book, because of the second inspiration; Scott McCloud’s idea “the infinite canvas.” The idea that an online comic does not have to obey any conventional page restrictions. Many webcomics could conceivably find a home in a printed book. The Infinite Corpse is meant to be at home online with no boundaries, and grow like a balloon filling up with stories like twine. It’s a giant beautiful surreal artist-based choose-your-own-adventure story![/quote]

The Infinite Corpse is a brilliant idea, and I’d suggest anyone who is interested to go ahead and contribute!

For days when you feel like a fraud

Amy @ Pikaland

I was standing a few feet away from the podium, and getting all nervous as I waited for my turn to be called up. Some minor tinkering needed to be done for the projector settings, as I included videos in my lecture, and so I needed sound, but right now there was none. As seconds trickled into minutes, my hands felt all clammy and I could feel the trickle of sweat come down my forehead although the room was comfortably cool against the sweltering heat that I had evaded before.

As I waited for the technician to wind up their trouble shooting efforts, I looked at the audience – about 40 to 50 fresh faced students and faculty were staring at the screen eagerly – waiting for the presentation to begin. Anytime now. I bet they were wondering who the heck I was too, I thought to myself. And at that moment, I thought to myself, why me? Why did I get a chance to stand up here and deliver a speech to a batch of wide-eyed students who would soon graduate with a degree in graphic design & illustration? I didn’t study illustration or graphic design while I was in university, although I did spend most of my time in a studio, designing spaces. What I did do was to study the subject intensively though, on my own for the past 5 yearsI had no right to be up there.

I was gripped with fear all of a sudden. All the things that I wanted to reach out to students to tell them about – the fact that everything is a process instead of a one-off experience – study, exams, career, passion, life. That there isn’t a such a thing as doing it wrong. That the process isn’t a linear trajectory. I wasn’t there to tell them what to do. I only meant to share with them what I had learnt throughout the past 5 years when I threw myself headlong into studying what I was passionate about. I didn’t need a degree to prove to others that I love illustration and to share what I’ve learnt, certainly. Or do I?

Perhaps it was also due to the fact that I was certain that I had the simplest slide show on earth, compared to the other speakers who went before me.

I had slipped in to see the other speakers present a few hours earlier, and what I saw were slides after slides with dizzying effects (and music to boot!), peppered with cool animation sequences – fun to watch when I was part of the audience, but since I was looking at them before I was due to give my speech, it only made me want to curl up into a ball and slink away silently. My slideshows had hardly any animation at all. Simple big words up on the screen. Even bigger images that filled up my presentation, single ones, mostly. I felt small. Tiny. Insignificant. What was I thinking?

I could hear the emcee speak. And then I’m up on that podium. Staring. Looking. Fumbling. Forgetting. Then I began. Deep breaths.

And then it was done. Just like that. In that split second when I quieted I hoped that I wouldn’t have to hop down the stage cringing at how I sounded in my head. I had gripped the edge of the podium with my fingers, steadying myself, hoping and waiting to hear the responses to what I had delivered. I was prepared to close my eyes, because I’d dread what I’d find: bored faces of students with glazed eyes, or worse, if I had laid my eyes on those who fell asleep.

But no one was sleeping. Their eyes were fully open, wide awake. I heard a first applause. And quickly, another. And within a split second the room thundered with pairs of hands finding each other in a raucous rhythm. And all that fear inside me dissipated. Dissolved. Melted away like it never happened at all. But it did. And I remembered. I also remembered why I stood up there, despite how my tummy was filled with the wings of a thousand butterflies, and how I doubted myself and cursed my boldness a few hours before.

There wasn’t time to think. The next thing I knew, came a flurry of questions and answers. There were laughters ringing in the hall. Kind teachers and students who put up their hands and stood up to remark about how they enjoyed the speech, and they loved the fact that I “kept it real”. There were thank you’s, hugs, and even tears. Hope, love, happiness. There were bright flashes of light too – people who wanted to be photographed with me! Although I can never have fathom why (up to this day), but I wasn’t one to argue. Smile, hug, click. I certainly didn’t expect any of it at all.

I truly didn’t.

Amy @ Pikaland

The One Academy students

SHARE YOUR STORY:

In the comments below, tell me:

Have you ever felt like you’re not worthy of something? Accolades, fans, praise? Or even just a nice word that someone said about your work? Have you ever felt like you’re a fraud and that one day you’ll get discovered, and then everything will come crashing down (even though it hasn’t, and you’re not really one!) How did you move past it?

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