A Great Idea Doesn’t Care What Form It Lives In: Why a Contemporary Artist Decided to Create a Picture Book

What drew me to picture books was not the idea of becoming a children’s author, but the realization that the things I’ve always loved creatively—humor, imagination, strange characters, emotional honesty, and visual storytelling—naturally belonged in that space.

(Acknowledging Children With Genetic Differences in Picture Books.)

For most of my career, I worked in the worlds of advertising, entertainment, and design. The work was fast, polished, collaborative, and often created with preexisting rules. I enjoyed it. But over time, I started feeling the need to create something that felt more personal; something that came directly from my own imagination rather than from a brief, a client, or a product branding style guide.

A couple of years ago, I began building a body of fine art paintings completely separate from the style I had become known for professionally. I bought the biggest canvases I could find and started painting. I created paintings that felt playful but also meaningful. I’ve always identified myself as an artist, and I don’t think artists should trap themselves inside one medium.

A great idea doesn’t care what form it lives in. A painting can become a story. A story can become a sculpture. A character in a sketchbook can become a picture book, a film, or be the linch pin to an entire universe. I think the healthiest thing an artist can do is allow their creative language to move freely between mediums instead of building walls around what they are “supposed” to make.

For me, picture books became a very natural extension of that philosophy. Even at 39 years old, I still think like a kid. I’m still fascinated by the same kinds of ridiculous questions that entertained me when I was younger. Like what flavor of Jell-O would aliens from another planet gravitate towards if they visited earth? How funny would it be if they discovered that the center of the earth was where marshmallows come from? What would marshmallow creatures that live down there look like?

Those thoughts genuinely entertain me. They always have. I think a lot of adults slowly disconnect from that part of themselves because the world tells them to become more serious. More practical. More realistic. But imagination is one of the most valuable things we have. It’s the engine behind invention, storytelling, humor, empathy, and art itself.

That’s one of the reasons I love picture books so much. They allow us to communicate ideas in a way that feel simple, playful, and accessible while still carrying real meaning underneath.

The best picture books aren’t just for children. They speak to adults too. They remind adults of something they may have forgotten. On the other hand, humor has always been incredibly important to me creatively as well. I don’t think meaningful storytelling and silliness should exist separately. Some of the most memorable stories are the ones that make you laugh first and then unexpectedly hit you emotionally afterward.

I love that balance. I love creating characters and situations that feel absurd on the surface but still contain something human underneath. That became a huge part of why I created Hugo’s Hair. The story is funny and visually playful, but underneath it is a message about individuality, identity, and the pressure people feel to change themselves in order to fit in. Haven’t we all experienced that at some point in our lives?

Those themes apply to children but they absolutely apply to adults too. In many ways, adults struggle with those pressures even more. As an artist, I’m deeply interested in creating work that can connect across different age groups without losing its identity.

When I create for children, I don’t have to water down my creativity. I can stay curious, loose, and imaginative. When artists become overly concerned with seriousness, prestige, or intellectualism, creativity can start to stagnate. The work can lose its sense of discovery.

Children are often more visually intelligent and emotionally honest than adults give them credit for. They respond to originality immediately. They know when something feels authentic. That authenticity matters to me enormously. Children naturally create without that fear. They experiment freely. They combine strange ideas together without worrying whether something is “cool” or commercially acceptable. I think artists benefit from holding onto that mindset for as long as possible. That doesn’t mean avoiding craft or discipline. It means protecting imagination from becoming overly filtered.

For me, picture books are not separate from my fine art practice. They are connected to the exact same creative DNA. The same humor exists in both. The same strange worlds. The same emotional themes. The same visual language. One just happens to live on canvas, and the other happens to live on paper.

I think audiences today are more open than ever to artists existing in multiple spaces creatively. People no longer want creators to fit neatly into one category. They respond to authenticity, perspective, and originality more than labels. I still get excited by absurd little concepts. I still laugh at imaginary characters in my head. I still believe weirdness, humor, and imagination matter. And I think there’s real value in creating work that encourages people—both children and adults—to stay connected to those parts of themselves.

Because the truth is, growing older doesn’t make imagination less important. If anything, it makes it more necessary. The challenge isn’t holding on to imagination as a child—it’s refusing to lose it as an adult.

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