A clean line is such a joy to me. If I’m stuck or having a bad day or I’m frustrated with a commission (or the world in general!), getting ideas down on paper always makes me feel better.”
Despite all the tinkering and fine-tuning that happens there, her primary sketchbook work is surprisingly polished. The casual observer will find nary an errant line nor an out-of-place block of color. The last few pages have some rough sketching, sure, but the plurality of this thinking-out space feel like completed, independent compositions.
Using this space is creatively freeing. The sketchbook acts as a meditative arena separate from her other endeavors, especially her commercial commissions, where Stewart. Looking back at previous sketchbooks, now all filled up, is like a time capsule capturing the entirety of her career, as well as a vessel for Stewart to store ideas that that might need more tinkering than she has patience for in the moment. The sketchbooks are a primordial space totally effervescing with potential—bringing newness and freshness.
“My mind never knows if an idea works unless I draw it up,” Stewart says. “A clean line is such a joy to me. If I’m stuck or having a bad day or I’m frustrated with a commission (or the world in general!), getting ideas down on paper always makes me feel better.”
That freshness has garnered Stewart much praise and commercial success. Her deft brand of cartoonish graffiti, innocent and sly and bold and graceful, has led to commissions from an envy-inducing assortment of brands and creative collaborators. Her styles, for instance, grace the packaging for Wacom products, define sartorial wares from House of Holland, have illustrated the playbill for a Noel Coward revival starring Andrew Scott at The Old Vic, and can be found printed within the pages of the same mags that she once doodl-bombed.
In addition to making art her day-in-day-out profession, commercial projects have afforded Stewart the chance to learn from other creators and showcase her work. “There aren’t really that many galleries in London that facilitate my type of art,” she says.
Creativity can’t be boxed or placed in rigid confines. I do whatever I want, as and when the inspiration comes. I find it all so exciting.”
The major difference between her personal and commercial practices is process. The former is done with Posca Pens directly onto photographs. Feeling the space, feeling that line which brings her so much joy and fulfillment, is integral to bringing that vibrant quality that makes her best work feel lived-in. Commercial work by nature requires quick and sometimes sudden changes. As such, it is much easier to keep that process digital, “which can lose some of the magic,” she says, but so it goes when art meets the practicality of firm deadlines and mercurial brand managers.
Regardless of why she is creating (e.g., doodlebombing, commercial commission, collaborating with a friend, an interactive installation at an art gallery), Stewart ensures that each project has a boutique sensibility. When a potential project arrives in her inbox, she gauges whether a spark of an idea comes to mind.
If ideas flow then it generally leads to good results. If that feeling, that inspiration, seems lacking then it may not be a good fit. The goal is always freedom of creative exploration without confinement or boundaries or guidelines.
Stewart advises: “[F]orce or try to control anything and your mind and work will suffer—well, it does for me. It is just all very fluid. Creativity can’t be boxed or placed in rigid confines. I do whatever I want, as and when the inspiration comes. I find it all so exciting.”
My mind never knows if an idea works unless I draw it up”
Things have slowed a bit since shelter-in-place became the norm earlier this year. Having an established illustration practice made self-isolating easy enough to accomplish. The unexpected emotional burden has, however, required some compromises and adjustments.
“Not being able to expel any pent-up energy with friends and family in those moments meant that I was forced into a type of self-therapy I didn’t ask for,” says Stewart.
Sheltering in place, however, has offered some space to pause and self-reflect. All the alone time has allowed Stewart to figure out what she really wants to work on. Absent the drudgeries and rigmarole of pre-self-isolation, she has luxuriated in exploring the ideas that she had neither the time nor space to fully prod. “It wasn’t all productive and easy, but I’ve fared okay,” she says.
A supercharged workflow has always propelled her forward. Stewart has never belabored just one idea for long. In her youth, she would finish one project as quickly as possible to move on to the next, to evolve her art with rapid-fire progress. While time has tempered that impulse, her drive to see the next iteration of her artmaking still underwrites every creative endeavor.
Moving forward, Stewart hopes to keep expanding her practice. Illustration will always be her primary focus. But her passions may take her into collaborations with animators (similar to her work for Kylie Minogue’s “Sexercize” music video), photographers, or other fellow artisans. Or, maybe, a dive into painting.
“I don’t just want to paint one of my illustrations on canvas. I’m still experimenting and I don’t want it to be boring,” she says. “Other than painting, though, I have found nothing that gives me the sense of calm that drawing does. To sit and draw is a therapeutic and meditative process and is so deeply personal. I just love it so much, it’s an impulse and passion that will never leave me.”*
This article originally appeared as the cover feature of Hi-Fructose Issue 56, which is sold out. Support what we do and get our next print issue as part of a subscription here and thanks for reading us!
