I, a designer of planet Earth, in order to form a more perfect creative process, establish drawing skills, ensure design tranquility, provide excellent art, promote conceptual welfare, and secure the blessings of creative liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this chapter for the designers of our world.
I graduated from art school in 1986. Even though the program was specifically geared to training graphic designers, we had to take drawing and illustration classes. At the time, our industry realized the importance of drawing as it relates to creative thinking and design.
But times have changed. Most art schools that offer visual communications degrees don’t require students to take any drawing classes. The majority of them focus on software-oriented design (a tool-driven process), which only compounds the problem.
This issue isn’t limited to recent design school graduates, however. Even seasoned designers who have been trained to draw have sometimes been lulled into creative lethargy by the ease and accessibility of digital tools.
This dumbing down of creativity in our industry is a serious pet peeve of mine. Those who bake down the creative process so it’s not too demanding on the individual believe the computer, rather than the artist, is the wellspring of creativity.
The fundamental problem for many designers is the lack of a well-defined and systematic creative process. In today’s design reality, it’s far too easy to fall into the routine of jumping on the computer as the first step in a creative task. We’ve all been guilty of this at one time or another. But any designer who jumps directly onto the computer is what I would call a “tooler.”
A tooler is someone who doesn’t necessarily want to improve his or her drawing skills but thinks that by learning the latest software version, applying a new drop-down menu effect, running a filter in a certain way, or mimicking some other type of convoluted Fibonacci-esque computer-driven function, he or she can avoid drawing.
Toolers don’t draw. In making that choice, they not only lessen the quality of the final product but also fail to grow as designers. It’s a lose-lose situation.
Analog—that is, drawing—and digital are not independent of each other when it comes to creating artwork. Nothing I do is fully digital, nor is it fully analog. I’m constantly going back and forth between the two throughout the creative process.
Early in my career (pre-computer), people would ask me what I did for a living and I’d say, “I’m a graphic designer.” The usual response was something like, “You get paid to draw? I can’t draw a stick figure.” They clearly associated my core skill and craft with what I did for a living.
But now (post-computer) when I tell people what I do, the normal response is something like this: “That’s cool. I have a computer, too. I printed some inkjet business cards for...” And they proceed to associate what they do on a PC in their spare time using Microsoft Paint, prefab templates, Comic Sans font, and clip art with what I do as a professional.
Gone is the appreciation or even recognition of a skill or craft we as artists possess to do our jobs. For the most part, toolers don’t view themselves as lacking any core ability as “designers” because the computer, in their minds, has replaced the skill and craft they once associated with an artist’s ability.
Our industry is inundated with toolers who reinforce this poor public perception of what we do. Toolers don’t take skill and craft seriously. In essence, one could argue that they are merely glorified amateurs who just know more about the software than the general public. Mom and Pop see what they produce and say to themselves, “Hey, I can do that, too.” And thus the tooler dispensation was born.
As I stated earlier, I don’t expect every designer to be a full-blown illustrator—that’s simply unrealistic. But I do think every designer should integrate basic drawing skills into the creative process to facilitate his or her full creative potential (FIGURE 3.1). This chapter will help you understand the importance of working out your ideas in analog form before moving to digital—that is, working out your ideas on paper before ever approaching the computer.
When I teach illustrative design, one of the first things I tell my students is that I can’t teach them to be creative. I can only show them methods that will aid them in their quest to create and execute unique concepts and artwork.
Much could be written on the subject of generating ideas and using creative thinking and mental problem solving in a design context. Suffice it to say that this book is intended to facilitate the execution of your ideas—not the creation of them.
A solid creative foundation starts with doing research, knowing your audience, and thinking through ideas that are appropriate for that audience both strategically and aesthetically. Only when these steps are completed can you begin to draw.
Your brain is the only computer you need at this point. You’re mining, not refining, so it’s important to load the chamber (your brain) with as much relevant information as you can to fuel your creative exploration as you draw out your ideas (FIGURE 3.2).
As I draw out my ideas and work through the creative process, I depend on three tools (FIGURE 3.3):
• A 2B pencil for roughing out concepts and chewing on.
• A black Paper Mate Flair pen to quickly create thumbnail sketches.
• A mechanical pencil for drawing refined sketches, which I then scan and build on in my vector drawing program.
I also like to use a black Sharpie and a red pen at times, but those don’t play a part in the foundational stage of my creative process. I use them in refining my artwork and in art directing myself, as I’ll discuss later.
I love the term “thumbnailing.” It’s an apropos term to define the capture of ideas in a simple and small drawing. Because you’re just mining for concepts at this point, you don’t need to worry about how precise or technically accurate the image is. Thumbnails are nothing more than visual triggers to help you explore creative possibilities.
Think of the process as “brain dumping.” You’re simply opening up the floodgates of your mind and letting the ideas flow out on to paper. Have fun with the process: don’t get hung up on how appropriate the concept is at this point or how good the sketches may be. Remember, you’re not refining at this point; you’re simply mining. You’ll go through and refine your direction later.
You could also refer to these as doodles. In reality, the only difference between a traditional doodle and a thumbnail sketch is that one is spontaneous or random and the other tends to be purposeful. But if calling these sketches “doodles” takes the pressure off, then go for it.
An aside: as much as I try to plan for a project, I never know when inspiration will hit me. Many times something I see or think will trigger an idea, I’ll begin to make mental connections, and I’ll grab a pen and paper to sketch some quick thumbnails of the idea so I don’t I lose it. This is why you’ll see different ink and paper colors in my thumbnail sketches (FIGURE 3.4).
Thumbnails may start out very crude, but through a process of refinement they lead to well-crafted and precise digital artwork (FIGURE 3.5).
You can never have too many thumbnails, but you can have too few. Always push yourself to create more than you need for any given project. This will ensure that you’ve fully vetted your exploration.
“Nothing is more dangerous than an idea when it is the only one you have.”
—ÉMILE CHARTIER
There’s a nice fringe benefit to over-thumbnailing: over time, you’ll build an archive of “homeless” ideas. When a new project comes along that aligns with a previous project’s theme, you can harvest ideas from your unused archive. It’s like renewable creative energy!
There are, of course, exceptions. Not every project needs a lot of thumbnails. Sometimes a design motif is so geometric and simple that you don’t need to refine it beyond your initial thumbnail sketch.
Keep your creative process flexible enough to allow this approach without compromising the end results. It obviously won’t apply to every job you work on, but in the case of my Freedom of Speech project, it did (FIGURE 3.6). The speech bubble element was clearly going to be an easy-to-build object (FIGURE 3.7).
I created the motif primarily using basic shapes within my drawing program—why try to draw a perfect elliptical shape when there’s already a tool that does it with precision? This applies to the star shape as well.
This project is, of course, the exception, not the rule. More often than not you’ll want to thumbnail out your ideas and then redraw and refine your drawn design before trying to pull off the vector artwork.
Before you get into your car and drive somewhere you’ve never been before, you probably check a map for directions. If you don’t bother reviewing a map, you can easily get lost, drive a route that’s out of your way, and experience a lot of frustration as you try to figure things out on the fly.
The same is true when it comes to building vector artwork. Drawing out and refining your ideas gives you a precise road map that you can follow in your vector drawing program. It removes the guesswork from building your art (FIGURE 3.8).
But if you don’t take the time to think through and draw what you need to build before you build it, you’ll waste a lot of time noodling around looking for that result you’re after.
Refinement is a process of evolving your art from a rough idea into a clarified plan from which you can build a design. Your goal is the same as an architect’s: you draw it the way you plan to build it.
Drawing is an iterative process. So if something just doesn’t look right after you’ve drawn and redrawn it, then it’s a good bet you need to keep drawing and rework it even more. Whenever you’re in doubt about how your drawing looks, redraw it until you remove that doubt (FIGURE 3.9).
Refinement isn’t a task reserved for just this stage of the creative process; it should blanket the whole process. Over time, you’ll learn to art direct yourself and make continual refinements along the way (FIGURE 3.10).
I find it a lot easier to draw on vellum and use a light box. I usually redraw only the parts of a drawing that I don’t like, and then once I have everything figured out, I just tape them all together to form the final refined sketch that I can scan.
This process takes dedication. If you’re not used to working this way, it will seem foreign and laborious, and I can almost guarantee that you’ll get frustrated. But anything worth doing is always hard at first, so hang in there. It will get easier, and you’ll get better at it.
You may invest more time at the beginning of a project, but it will save you time later when you actually start creating the art. It’ll also expand your creative skill set, hone your craftsmanship, and equip you to produce better work.
Have you ever tried to follow a map that wasn’t accurate? It kind of defeats the purpose. The same is true when you draw out your refined artwork. The more precise it is, the easier it will be to build it in vector form. Once you’re happy with your drawing, you can scan it in and place it into your vector drawing program.
The following project demonstrates how drawing serves as an accurate road map for building your art (FIGURES 3.11–3.14). The initial thumbnail, rough sketch, and final refined sketch are shown on the previous two pages.
This sketch-and-refine process can apply to any type of design project that needs to end up in vector form. This example showcases a custom hand-lettered logotype design (FIGURES 3.15–3.21).
Here’s another real-world project that illustrates why the analog-to-vector process is essential. For this project I had to illustrate a three-eyed monster in a pseudo-woodcut style. To pull this off, I had to go back and forth between analog and digital throughout its creation (FIGURES 3.22–3.30).
Most of the time we create on behalf of our clients. Our design solutions need to work professionally within a commercial environment. And our creative work has to fit with a client’s business personality and marketing strategy. We also need to create artwork within a set budget and schedule, which means we don’t have the luxury of spending as much time as we might like on any given project.
These are all reasons why a systematic creative process is necessary when creating vector-based artwork. Building your vector designs on a solid creative foundation is a must in order to produce work that’s precise, on time, and effective.
The more you work systematically as you build vector artwork, the more the process becomes second nature, and the faster you’ll be able to execute your ideas without compromising the quality of the art.
Let’s take a look at this systematic process in context of a more complex project: a visual identity for a clothing company called Beloved Virus (FIGURES 3.31–3.43).
If you’ve determined that you can’t do the drawing part of this process very well, then my book has taught you something already: you need to improve your core drawing skills. That’s what growing as a designer is all about.
I’m often asked, “How do I get better at drawing?” There’s no secret, the answer is easy: you just start, and you stick with it. If you start drawing today (doodling counts, by the way), in five years you’ll be a lot better at it.
One of the coolest aspects of a creative career is that talent and skill don’t diminish over time. Like wine, they only get better with age. But if you never start, you’ll never improve, and you’ll miss out on creative opportunities.
The whole reason for drawing out your vector art before you build it is to create a piece of digital art that is precise and well-crafted. Your final art will just come out better.
But if that isn’t enough, vector artwork is resolution independent, which means that you can use it in almost any format or application. It extends your design’s creative possibilities.
I’ve shown you the importance of drawing out your ideas and refining them, but you’ve seen only a glimpse of the actual vector build methods you’ll use in your vector drawing program once your drawing is complete.
You may be saying to yourself at this point, “I can draw out my ideas, but actually building the vector art is a major pain in the ass.”
Fear not, my weary friend! The next three chapters will demystify vector building through simple, systematic methods that will equip you for success.
I’d never say that I completely understand all of my own doodles, because I don’t. Most just flow out of me without any forethought. I simply open up the floodgates and see what happens. It’s more fun that way.
I’ll admit that most are strange, and some are a bit disturbing. The latter category I refer to as “Dark Morsels.” Once again, don’t ask me what they mean.
That said, I think doodling is a great way to exercise creativity. That’s why I consider doodling essential nonsense. The following examples showcase a rogue’s gallery of bizarre doodles harvested from the deepest recesses of my mind (FIGURES 3.44–3.51).
I’ve also included a project walk-through where I show how I narrowed down a collection of doodles and thumbnail sketches into a rather hairy self-promotional piece (FIGURES 3.52–3.56).
Doodling also lends itself to practical purposes on real world projects like the editorial illustration shown in Chapter 10, “Good Creative Habits,” Figure 10.1.
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