<blockquote><h1>“Skateboarding was definitely a creative outlet.&nbsp;The physical act of skateboarding is pure creativity.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Were you always creative, even as a kid?ET: "I think so. But to be honest, I don't even know if I think of myself as creative. I guess I am, based on my life and what I've done. And people tell me I'm creative, but I&nbsp;don’t walk around thinking I'm a creative guy or something. It's all been problem-solving within given structures."&nbsp;What is your definition of creativity?ET: "For me, creativity is&nbsp;mostly&nbsp;building on existing structures. Let's say you want to create a completely new piece of music. Something&nbsp;nobody has ever heard before, something completely foreign. Chances are you're going to alienate a lot of people simply because&nbsp;there will be no reference point. There will&nbsp;probably&nbsp;be some people who will think it is genius. But most people would consider it too&nbsp;far out&nbsp;in left field.&nbsp;In my example you need&nbsp;an existing song structure with a beat and lyrics, and then you can play with,&nbsp;and tweak those elements. And to me, creativity lives in that structure."&nbsp;

I love the music analogy, but how does that correlate to your own work?&nbsp;ET: "Over the years, I've been asked to design skate shoes and the box they come in. And then you realize that within that structure, there's not a lot of wiggle room. I mean, a shoe is a shoe. There's not a lot you can&nbsp;do.&nbsp;You’re not going to reinvent the wheel there. In the end, everyone wants to have a shoe that works and that they can skateboard in. So all you're changing is the materials on the shoe, the look of the shoe, and then maybe the box. So it's extremely limiting in some ways. But that's where the creativity comes in.&nbsp;You try to come up with new ways to push what is possible within the given parameters.”&nbsp;<div class="raw-html-embed"><iframe width="800" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3ymKHBPVsKA?si=hbKFlJbdDwyIo4XJ&amp;controls=0&amp;start=7" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>&nbsp;So, creativity requires constraints?ET: "It doesn’t require them, but in reality most creativity is done within them. I'll give you another example. I make photo books. And so I'm constantly thinking about how to&nbsp;do something different with my books. I want my books to look different from every other photo book. But I also don't want to go so far where I'm just doing something crazy&nbsp;for the sake of it.&nbsp;So, I try to do something a little different. My bigger books are more traditional, like the recent one that just came out, but I do try to play with the structure of what's possible.&nbsp;But the book is only a conduit for the pictures themselves, it shouldn’t be about the book, but about the pictures. Again, very limiting, but that’s where the fun is, trying to make it your own. Deanna and I made this accordion-style book together, and I got a lot of praise for&nbsp;the fun design, but in all fairness, that wasn't me. My publisher came to me and said that one of his artists was making a very specific size book, which meant he was left with a big strip of paper&nbsp;trimmed off these giant sheets that would be wasted. He asked me if I had any ideas for that. So, I can't claim any creative genius there. It was just problem-solving. Someone came to me and said, hey, I don't want this paper to go to waste, and I happened to have a project that would fit nicely on the strip of wasted paper. It was a win-win situation: no wasted paper, and we got to make a cool book. Problem solved. But the&nbsp;amazing thing is that&nbsp;the photographs in that project were chosen to be exhibited at the Pier 24 Photography Museum in San Francisco, and eventually ended up in the collection of The Museum of Modern Art in New York!"

<blockquote><h1>“Creativity is also being ready for those opportunities&nbsp;when they come."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;The ripple effect is in full swing.ET: “Yes. Creativity is also being ready for those opportunities&nbsp;when they come. With the book, a strange opportunity arose. If I hadn't had an idea, someone else would have taken that strip of paper and done something with it. But I was ready at the moment. And that's a big part of creativity: being ready for it. It's what athletes always say: be ready for the moment. Have projects you're juggling and working on and thinking about all the time so that when that opportunity arises, you have something to fill it.”&nbsp;Speaking of juggling work. You make books. You work as a photographer. You have your own skateboard company. You create works of art. In short, you have a lot of different canvases to work on. How does that work in your brain? Do you have an idea and then figure out what outlet works best? Or is your work much more compartmentalized?&nbsp;ET: "It is a little bit compartmentalized, although there's been a lot of bleed-over through the years in different ways. But the compartmentalization has almost always been part of it. The art I make for skateboard graphics is so different from the paintings I do or the skate photographs, which are much more grittier. So on the creation side, it is very compartmentalized, but it doesn't work that way in my brain: there, it's much more fluid.&nbsp;The thing is, all these outlets have a different audience. So when I'm doing a skate graphic, I get into a skateboard mindset, and I think about me as a, you know, a 15-year-old boy going into a skate shop. And how I loved looking up at the boards and checking all the graphics and everything like that. So when I get in my skate world, I get into my skate head. There have been crossovers where I'm doing something in the fine art world, and an idea pops up for a skateboard graphic, and there have been times when I've used drawings that I've done as skateboard graphics. So, my fine art practice blends into my skateboard practice. Funnily enough, it doesn't go vice versa a lot. I don't usually find something in the skateboard world that I bring into my art."

What does your creative process look like? Where do you get your ideas?ET: "I end up coming up with a lot of ideas in the shower. I think a lot of people have this experience. The shower is an important creative space because it's just you and your thoughts. Sometimes, if I'm trying to think of a new idea, I look forward to just taking a shower cause I know all distractions are taken away. You don't have your phone, and there's no TV. You're just&nbsp;standing there thinking about something, and a lot of times that creates the&nbsp;brain space to create a new connection."&nbsp;You mentioned athletes earlier on, and how creativity is similar to sports in that you must be ready when the moment comes. So, to continue the sports analogy: is creativity a muscle you can train and improve or something you are born with?&nbsp;ET: "I really think that you're either born with it or not. I don't think I was a natural skateboarder. I wasn't born to skate like some people whose style is effortless and easy. I was never that guy. I had to work. I had to practice. And I had to think about it. I had to try hard. All those tricks you see of me in a video were multiple tries and multiple injuries. And creativity works the same way. Some people are born with it and make it look effortless; others must put in the hours, train, and work hard.&nbsp;And when it comes to creativity, I suppose I fall in the 'was born with it' category, but I also put in the work. My brain is always thinking of something. I'm constantly creating graphics and thinking of graphic ideas."

<blockquote><h1>“If I have an idea to do something, but it might not sell very well, we'll do it anyway.”&nbsp;</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;And does that ever wear you out?&nbsp;ET: “No, it's fun. I would rather have too many ideas than have no ideas. I have so many ideas that I have to pick and choose what I will work on. There are crunch times when too much comes together at once, and I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Or I get a terrible headache.”&nbsp;The work you do is very diverse. You make contemporary art but also run a skateboarding company. How do you strike the right balance between commerce and creativity?ET: "Commerce is always back of mind. But I feel lucky that in my fine art practice and even in the skateboard company, which is a purely commercial endeavor, I don't have to think about commerce that much. If I have an idea to do something, but it might not sell very well, we'll do it anyway. Like, every year, we do a Halloween deck. And we'll usually do something crazy, like a weird shape or something. It's impractical, but enough people will like it that we make a small run. So I don't feel&nbsp;hampered by the idea that we can't waste money on this or that."

And how is it having a spouse who is also creative? [ed. artist and photographer Deanna Templeton] I assume it's great because you continue to work together, right?&nbsp;ET: "Yeah, it's really wonderful actually. Street photography can be really weird: we walk around with a camera, pausing and trying to get a photo without people noticing it. But one of the great things about having a photographer wife is that she understands what I'm doing and is an ally. We help each other on the streets a lot, you know. I'll sometimes create a distraction for her. She'll see like a cool old man smoking, hanging out a window. And I'll walk up and pause and pretend I'm looking at my map on the phone like a tourist, and then she'll get behind me to focus and get her&nbsp;exposure right. And then maybe I'll move. And she'll come out and shoot. And she does the same for me. I'll be shooting a photo, and maybe someone sees me and gets a little weird, and then she will come in and say something like: 'Ohh, your dress is so cute, or something like that.' And that just breaks the ice. So yeah, we work together in that way. It's kind of interesting and fun."&nbsp;Is there any competition between you two? Like when one spots something before the other does?&nbsp;ET: “Yeah, that's the downside of working together. I usually let her have the shot, simply because I shoot so much more than she does. For the last couple of years, Deanna has been a lot more passive in comparison. For instance, we went to Europe over the summer and she shot 10 rolls of film, while I had 70. There have been times when we had little arguments about who shot what. And sometimes we just decide to both shoot something. And whoever shoots its best gets to use it.”&nbsp;<img src="https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/Schermafbeelding_2023_10_03_om_20_59_35_1ffd78d61a.png" alt="Schermafbeelding 2023-10-03 om 20.59.35.png" srcset="https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/thumbnail_Schermafbeelding_2023_10_03_om_20_59_35_1ffd78d61a.png 232w,https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/small_Schermafbeelding_2023_10_03_om_20_59_35_1ffd78d61a.png 500w,https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium_Schermafbeelding_2023_10_03_om_20_59_35_1ffd78d61a.png 750w," sizes="100vw">

What does the selection process look like? You use film rolls, so you only know what you have once you develop them.ET: "I just got all my photos from our European trip—all 70 rolls. And my first reaction is always super negative. I looked at everything, and I went *** **** it, I didn't get anything. Almost all the photos that I thought would be cool weren't, and then I got super depressed. And it's the same process every time. Then, I'll scan the proof sheets and start going through the process of archiving them&nbsp;digitally. And as I go through that process, I soften a bit, and I'll start finding things I like. Things I didn't notice the first time around.&nbsp;My wife wanted to throw away a bunch of her negatives. She figured that someone would find them after her death, judge her, and think of her as a crappy photographer. And I forced her to hold on to those negatives. So she put them into a separate album called her “crap book.” And&nbsp;now it's like this running joke between us because, over the years, she has found so many good photos in that&nbsp;album. The thing is, over time, things change. I might not have liked a photo then, but maybe now, for instance, the building in the picture isn't there anymore, so the shot has become interesting on a historical level."&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“Shooting on film is more expensive, and it's kind of a pain in the ass, but I prefer it.”</h1></blockquote>

Why do you insist on working with film rolls, dark rooms, and a lengthy editing process when you can use a digital camera, take the shot, and immediately see your work?&nbsp;ET: "I just prefer film. I'm not anti-digital. Look at my Instagram, and you'll see I use my iPhone to shoot all the time. But my iPhone and film photos are wildly different just because of the technique and because the lens on the iPhone is so wide. Also, everyone has a phone, so it's almost like you're invisible while shooting. You can walk by people at full speed and snap a photo. But taking a picture with my thumb without anyone noticing it is different from raising a camera to your face. Everyone sees that and feels that, but no one feels an iPhone because everyone in the world has one in their hand at all times.&nbsp;I've been thinking about buying a digital camera to do commercial jobs. But the funny thing is that the people who hire me for commercial jobs hire me because I shoot film. And so they know what they sign up for, that it takes a couple of days to see results. But those commercial jobs can also be stressful because I don't know what I shot and don't know if I did the job correctly. It's one thing to shoot photos for myself. If I mess up, no harm is done or money wasted. But messing up a commercial job is scarier, so going digital would make sense.&nbsp;But the digital question is hard for me because I don't have any real answer other than to say I&nbsp;prefer film. Shooting on film is more expensive, and it's kind of a pain in the ass, but I prefer it. And I can afford it. I like the idea of film. I have a dark room at my house so that I can print the photo myself. And I enjoy the physicality of it. The realness. And I like that the print itself often becomes an object. I will write on the print or on the edges."

<blockquote><h1>“When I'm in my studio, away from the phone, I usually have a good time.”</h1></blockquote>

What would you consider creativity killers?ET: "My iPhone is the creativity killer. I spend too much time on that thing, and every time I'm done looking at it, I realize I just fried my brain because all I did was look at other people's creativity on Instagram. And then I get depressed because I just saw all this cool stuff everyone's doing. And it's unfair because you only see everyone's best projects and work. So I usually regret spending time on my phone, time that I could have used to make a book or a painting or read a classic book. And yet I return to that phone every single day."&nbsp;&nbsp;And what fuels your creativity, other than lengthy showers?ET: "When I'm in my studio, away from the phone, I usually have a good time. Painting is repetitious; you're just sitting there making these little strokes for an hour and listening to music or a podcast. Those are good kinds of moments. It's not that different from taking a shower.&nbsp;And then there's sleeping. It's like the equivalent of a shower: you lay there, and all the distractions are gone. And you close your eyes, and you're in that black void. Your brain creates things. It's all black, so you have to imagine everything. And so if you start thinking of something you want to do, be it a book, a graphic, or something new in an exhibition. Sitting in that black void, your brain naturally goes into a zone where you think of something, and that's how you grab it. That's idea formation. Your brain creates an anomaly. What sucks, though, is half the time I wake up not remembering the idea."&nbsp;You make books yourself: any books that have inspired you on your creative journey?"One of the most super inspiring books is Jim Goldberg's 'Raised by Wolves.' It's about runaway kids. And that book has been a touchstone for me, but I hate citing it because it's almost impossible to get a copy. You might find one online, but it might be like $1000."&nbsp;<div class="raw-html-embed"><iframe width="800" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8quyKLbUp5o?si=fKydMGqvh_AZxoDj&amp;controls=0" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>

Do you have any favorite albums or podcasts you listen to while working that help you to be more creative or productive?ET: "It sounds super boring and weird, but I'll often just have NPR on. [ed. NPR is National Public Radio, an American public broadcast service] It's really dry a lot of the time with news and local stuff. But to me, it's kind of like white noise. And it's the same with television. When I'm drawing in the living room, the TV will be on, and I'm sitting sideways from it. There will be some show on, like a rerun of The Office, but it's just background noise. But I never look at it.But then, once in a while, I'll be like, what the hell am I doing? And then I'll put on music, which has an immediate effect. It has even changed the way I paint. The attitude of a song changes my attitude as I paint, and I've actually felt myself take more risks with what I'm drawing while listening to a punk song."&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>"It's all been trial and error."</h1></blockquote>

You're a self-taught artist. What sparked your interest in art in the first place?ET: "In high school, I had an art class. But yeah, I never went to college or anything. Just the School of Hard Knocks. [laughter] I've always just had to learn from books and from looking at other paintings, and you know, you try something, and you see if it works, and sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't. It's all been trial and error.In high school, my grandparents would take us to the mall, and there was a Rizzoli bookstore there with a pretty good art section. And I found this little book on Egon Schiele, and my mind exploded. I thought it was really cool. My grandparents took us to museums, so I was aware of the famous artists and everything, your Van Goghs and Monets. But Schiele's work was such a departure from all of that, with the scraggly lines and angst in the works. I learned about Austrian Expressionism and became a big fan of all these Austrian painters from that period. And I still like those guys, but then I also discovered David Hockney, which resonated with me because of living in Southern California."

And let's remember that at the same time, you were making a name for yourself as a professional skater. Did creativity play a role in that as well?ET: “Skateboarding was definitely a creative outlet.&nbsp;The physical act of skateboarding is pure creativity. Can you imagine the creativity bursting out of Mark Gonzales’ brain in the early 80s when he invented half the tricks we all do today? I was constantly juggling all these different things. I was running Toy Machine while being a pro skater and couldn't do either to the best of my abilities. I was always hard on myself because I wasn't the pro skater I could be.&nbsp;And I still wonder sometimes, what if I just decided to stop photography and focus on my painting? Could I become a great painter?&nbsp;And vice versa with photography, or even Toy Machine.”

So why haven't you focused on one thing?ET: “I think choosing would be hard. I opened up all these accounts and now must maintain them. So I painted myself into a corner on that. But then also I think if I was only doing one of those things, I might burn out. And so I feel fortunate that I can go into painting mode for a while when I have a show coming up.&nbsp;And I go into skate graphic mode at times, etc.”&nbsp;

But all these pursuits require a different focus on your part. Spending a day painting in the studio is different from the day-to-day running of a skateboard company. That requires some flexibility and a different work mode or rhythm.ET: "That comes naturally. When I have an exhibition coming up, I have a goal: I need to finish a certain amount of paintings before the show's opening. So, I tend to go into an all-day mode where I wake up and paint all day. But on typical days, I might go in the studio and paint a little bit, then work on my photo archive for a while, and then work on skate graphics too."&nbsp;Speaking of archives, what are your favorite clips of your skateboarding?&nbsp;ET: "My favorite has always been the&nbsp;Emerica, ‘This is Skateboarding’ video. I was probably at the height of my power. That's the best skating I did as far as, like, physical tricks. I did a lip-slide on an 18-stair handrail, which was, at my age, pretty cool. Looking back, the tricks I did in that video were probably the best I could do. Although I never truly became the best I could be because, like what we discussed before. I never dedicated the time. If I look at my peers, they just lived and breathed skateboarding and realized their potential much more than I did. So I'm sad about that sometimes.&nbsp;<div class="raw-html-embed"><iframe width="800" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_smeiXix1Tc?si=KjdG98AOv1Cg-hBf&amp;controls=0" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>&nbsp;The same applies to art. I could be a better painter if I devoted more time to it. Photography is different because I do spend a lot of time shooting. It's the one constant thing because I always carry a camera. But I might go six months without painting, and then I'll get back in the studio, and it feels like I'm starting all over again. And it's tough. Cause just like I'm not a natural skater, I don't think I'm a natural painter. I don't have that gift. I can't just make paintings happen. I have to work for it."

<blockquote><h1>“Self-doubt is a normal and healthy byproduct of putting your work out in the world for people to see. It’s scary, but you have to overcome it.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Isn't that self-doubt an intricate part of the creative process? It certainly is something that most of the creatives I've interviewed experience.ET: "It's completely normal to feel this way, and I've come to terms with it.&nbsp;I tell myself that what I left behind is good enough. You'll always feel like you could do better, but I can look back at skating and go, OK, I don't think I reached my potential, but I'm still in the skateboard hall of fame! [laughing] I still was the world champion two times! At some point, you have to realize you can only do what you can do. I think self-doubt is a normal and healthy byproduct of putting your work out in the world for people to see. It’s scary, but you have to overcome it. Think of the people who have no self-doubt at all; they must be psychopaths."&nbsp;

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California-native Ed Templeton (1972) is a lot of things. Professional skateboarder. Two-time World Skateboarding Champion. Owner of skateboard company Toy Machine. Renowned (street) photographer. And acclaimed contemporary artist. He was one of the original Beautiful Losers who helped shape and capture the skate scene in the 1990s and has spent the last 20 years on a unique artistic and aesthetic journey.&nbsp;

ED TEMPLETON: RAW CREATIVITY

Let's get right to it: What is creativity?&nbsp;HT: "My definition of creativity is staying true to yourself, not paying too much attention to external influences, and not being too hard on yourself. You should never strive for perfection."&nbsp;&nbsp;How does this apply to your way of working?&nbsp;HT: "When I started out, I worked solely in black and white. Using pen and ink, I'd draw these lines over and over. But then, I switched to markers and started working with flat shapes instead of lines. I began making small drawings just for myself as a form of relaxation. There was no pressure, no specific purpose. I told myself these drawings couldn't fail; they were just for me. I had one rule: I had to continue drawing till the whole page was filled, and then I could decide whether to continue with it or not. This shift allowed me to become a more relaxed type of illustrator. Ultimately, I let go of the strict pursuit of naturalism, which felt right."

Changing your medium of choice is quite a big step.&nbsp;HT: "It definitely was a significant change. I had bought a small set of markers and a sketchbook and just began making simple drawings, taking it step by step. I took the markers everywhere: on holiday, to the beach. The thing is, I can't sit still or lie in the sun for too long, so I would draw instead. It gradually became a kind of pastime. I didn't think this would eventually become my new style of illustration. It was just a hobby. Something I did in my spare time. It eventually became my new working method but that was a natural evolution. There was no preconceived plan."&nbsp;&nbsp;By then, had you already graduated from the Academy of Arts, or was this pre-college?HT: "I had already graduated by then. I recently looked it up: I graduated in 2009, and my first marker drawings date from 2016. I was already working as an illustrator by then and had clients who hired me specifically for my black-and-white line drawings. But then I started experimenting by adding color to my work."

Were you nervous about changing your style and possibly losing clients or work over it?&nbsp;HT: "Not really. And that's partly because I took up a part-time job at around the same time. In the early years of my career, financial worries were a real thing. But by getting this job I created more room for creativity. I no longer felt the constant pressure to illustrate solely for money, which inspired me to really start doing my own thing."&nbsp;&nbsp;They say you don't need money to be creative, but not having any money can be a significant block for creativity. Financial worries can undoubtedly affect your creativity, right?&nbsp;HT: "Absolutely, because at the end of the day, you still need to pay your rent and cover your basic needs."&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>Collaboration is about giving and taking, compromising, and being open to new ideas during the creative process.</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;When did you start painting murals?&nbsp;HT: "I spent a lot of time in Surinam, my father's country of birth. And over there I did quite a few murals, but I had never done one in The Netherlands. In Surinam, there's a culture of murals and advertising that I found fascinating. I even set up a collective with a friend there: we allowed young artists to paint murals on vacant buildings and old structures.&nbsp;I painted my first 'Dutch' mural during the early days of the COVID pandemic. I was asked to do a mural but by then my style had changed significantly, so I had to find a way to translate my new style to match the mural's requirements. In the end, it all began with a drawing that I blew up onto the wall."

From murals to textiles: Again, it seems like a giant leap, but you seem to make the switch effortlessly.&nbsp;HT: "I've always had a fascination for textiles. In fact, I used textiles in my graduation project in 2009 but didn't explore it much after that. When we were stuck at home due to COVID, I was painting in my studio, and that's when the idea hit me. I thought: ‘Why not transform my paintings into applied textile pieces?’ I started cutting the shapes from the fabric and making collages to create textile wall hangings. That's how it all began."&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“I've learned that collaborating with other people gives you fresh perspectives.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;That's creativity at work, right there. Making do with what you've got. Finding inspiration in limitations and restrictions.&nbsp;HT: "Exactly. Restrictions can be inspiring, although that's something I realized later in my working life. In college, collaborating was challenging for me because I'd feel like, 'I have an idea, but I might not connect with the other person's idea.' Since then, I've learned that collaborating with other people gives you fresh perspectives. You may not initially resonate with their ideas, but when you work together, you find ways to make it cohesive and exciting for everyone involved."

How do you go about collaborating?&nbsp;HT: "For me, it's about working with people whose work I already adore. That means I can't always collaborate with everyone: the project needs to feel right. For example, I collaborated with Brian Elstak on a book. We both admired each other's style. However, we still needed to ensure the book had a unified look. So, I suggested sticking to a specific color palette to create cohesiveness; fortunately, Brian agreed. Collaboration is about giving and taking, compromising, and being open to new ideas during the creative process. Collaborations allow me to evolve as an illustrator and be open to new possibilities."&nbsp;&nbsp;Speaking of collaborations, what does a collab look like when the other party is a big company, like the work you did for IKEA? Usually, the one who pays has the final say.&nbsp;HT : "Well, in the case of the Ikea collab: the creative brief allowed for a lot of freedom. Ikea wanted to upcycle furniture, and I wanted to work with textiles, so it was a project where everyone could contribute in their own way with ideas and interpretations. Collaborating with companies can sometimes mean your work reaches a broader audience, and yes, it may become more commercialized. However, I've seen that people who are genuinely passionate about their art and craft will find their way. You need to have endurance and focus to sustain yourself in this world. It's not about just getting a continuous stream of commissions. It's about being genuinely passionate about what you do and staying committed to it."

You've developed a very distinctive and recognizable style. It must be challenging seeing others copying or trying to imitate it. How do you deal with that?&nbsp;HT: "I believe that when you stay true to yourself, you'll always be unique. I have my own techniques, color palettes, and themes that are specific to me. It's nearly impossible for someone to copy all three aspects. Also, if someone chooses to copy my style, that's on them. I might not like it, but ultimately, it's their choice. Also, I think my interests and my world are quite specific, making it challenging, if not impossible, to replicate."&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>Find your passion, stay true to yourself, and don't be afraid to explore and evolve your art.</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Any words of wisdom for young artists who are just starting out?&nbsp;HT: "Find your passion, stay true to yourself, and don't be afraid to explore and evolve your art. Be patient, as it takes time and perseverance to establish yourself in the art world. Also, drawing inspiration from everyday life and staying connected with the society around you is extremely valuable. Spending time in places like Suriname allows me to step away from the fast-paced art world and be more relaxed and contemplative. Drawing inspiration from ordinary things, like the streets or daily life, keeps me grounded and connected to the broader society rather than confined in the art bubble. It's important to have that balance."

Disclaimer: This interview was conducted at the Illustratie Biënnale Haarlem, the illustration and graphic art festival. We’re proud to call the Biennale one of our partners. For more articles and design challenges check back soon.&nbsp;<a href="www.illustratiebiennale.nl">www.illustratiebiennale.nl</a>

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Hedy Tjin is an Amsterdam-based illustrator and designer. Since graduating from the Academy of Arts in Utrecht, Tjin has established herself as an artist with a trademark palette, an alluring aesthetic, and a strong social conscience. The world is Tjin's canvas, literally, for she designs anything from murals to books and from furniture to textiles.

HEDY TJIN: THE WORLD AS A CANVAS

Are you getting tired of everyone constantly bringing up your age?TJK: “Well, it’s a bit like: ‘Enough, already, we get it.’”&nbsp;I won’t dwell too much on your age, but aging comes with physical challenges. I can imagine that it's pretty depressing for a creative person to be limited in how you can express yourself.TJK: “Yes, that definitely isn’t fun. I still work every day, but around 3 o'clock, I get tired and sleepy, which I find incredibly annoying. In the evenings, I also get tired, which is such a great contrast to how it was: I used to be able to work all night; I would just keep at it. My hand doesn't do exactly what I want it to do anymore. That's very frustrating, and because of it, everything takes so much longer. What used to take me an hour to draw now takes three hours.”&nbsp;How do you deal with that?TJK: “It is what it is. There’s not much you can do about it. You can fight it and hate it, but it won't help, so why waste energy?”&nbsp;You could also decide to stop altogether.&nbsp;TJK: “No, that's not really an option. I enjoy it too much. Plus, it gives me energy.”

Have you always had that need to create?TJK: “I can’t remember ever not drawing, but I wouldn’t go as for as to call it a need or inner drive. That’s too big a term for it. I simply enjoyed doing it. It's fun to keep yourself busy. Plus, what else could I do? I could read or take long walks, but that doesn’t really do it for me.”&nbsp;You could go to the movies; as a child, that was your happy place, right?TJK: “I loved going to the movies. I intensely enjoyed immersing myself in a different world, daydreaming away. I particularly loved the acting part. I would study how actors portrayed different emotions. I’d observe how Joan Crawford would act when angry or sad.”&nbsp;Speaking of acting: is it true that you act out what you draw in front of a mirror?TJK: “Yes, that's true. I look in the mirror to see what happens with your face and body when you act out certain scenes or feelings and then make sketches, eventually choosing the best one.”

Never had the ambition to do something in the movie industry?TJK: “I would have liked to, but I'm not cut out for it. Making a movie involves a lot of people. I love being an illustrator and comic artist – in that role, you're essentially the storyboarder, the editor: you’re everyone and everything.I used to think it would be fun to create an animated movie, but that's beyond my capabilities because everyone only works on a very small part of a film. And I don’t like that.”&nbsp;You say you don't like to work on just one thing, but you also worked at the Marten Toonder animation and comic studio, where you were a cog in a much bigger machine.TJK: “Yes, but I didn't last there very long. I put my heart and soul into it and really enjoyed working there because it was the first time I worked on something that was actually being used and seen. I had previously made some book covers, but this was something entirely different.”

What does your process look like?&nbsp;TJK: “I need a story to get started. If there's no story, there's no work to be made. When on holiday with my wife, I would take my art supplies to create something from scratch, but that never really worked. I need some sort of briefing, deadline, or audience; otherwise, it feels pointless and aimless. I guess that’s the difference with real artists who feel this need to create.”&nbsp;It’s funny that you use the label ‘real’ artists. Like there is some sort of hierarchy in creativity. You started out by working in an industry that was long considered anything but artistic; what was that like?TJK: “Comics were frowned upon: they were considered stupid and aimed at dumb people. But I didn’t care what people said. I enjoyed making comics and loved to draw because it made me feel completely free.”&nbsp;&nbsp;How did having a family impact that freedom? Working as much as you did well into the night was no longer an option.TJK: “Not exactly. The rule was: don’t disturb Dad.”&nbsp;So your family allowed you to do what you love, which starkly contrasts your childhood. Your family then didn't care much for your artistic inclinations, right?TJK: “True, nobody thought much about my drawings. I was a shy child and didn’t have a lot of friends. I would just draw and draw and lose myself in the world I created. When I came to The Netherlands, I attended the Rietveld Academy for a while, but I guess it wasn't for me. My father said I should become an architect if I wanted to continue to draw. But that wasn't for me either. Then he suggested that I become an advertising artist or teacher. But I was way too shy to stand in front of a classroom. Ultimately, I had to find some sort of work because my study visa was expiring, and I didn’t want to return to Indonesia. I remember seeing the Tom Poes comic in the newspapers in Indonesia and figured that maybe I could work on something like that. I ended up working at the Marten Toonder Studio: they vouched for me, and that’s how I was allowed to stay in The Netherlands.”

And that’s how you ended up drawing comics. Much has been made about the cinematic aspect of your comics: from the lighting to the camera-like angles. All those cinema visits paid off, then?TJK: “They certainly did! When I was around 14 or 15, I watched all these Hollywood movies. I didn’t care much for British or French cinema: it all looked too ugly to me. In contrast, all those Hollywood actors looked beautiful. Even when they fell into the water, they’d come out looking perfectly styled. That intrigued me, and I used what I had seen in the cinema to create dramatic effects in my work.”&nbsp;Isn’t that precisely how creativity works? Combining something you have once seen, read, or experienced and applying it to a completely different medium or experience to create something new?&nbsp;TJK: “True. Everything has been done before, so when I'm working on something, I might recall something I stored in the back of my mind and use it. And then, while I'm working on it, new ideas come along, and the final result looks completely different from the original thought, idea, or concept.”&nbsp;So, what is your definition of creativity?TJK: “Creativity is about creating something: making something out of nothing. It applies to painters, writers – they all do it. There's nothing; when they’re finished, there's something—it’s about creating what wasn't there before."

And can creativity be taught, or is it innate?TJK: “I think it's a bit of both, somewhat innate. I'm not entirely sure.”&nbsp;Has your process changed?TJK: “I used to create stories based on everyday life experiences, but now I find that boring. I prefer drawing things that are not possible, like fairytales and myths.”&nbsp;Is that because those themes give you more creative freedom since there's less preconceived imagery?TJK: “Absolutely, I can be more imaginative and free in my creations.”&nbsp;Is there a difference between creating art for adults and children?TJK: “Yes, for adults' stories, I try to convey more complex concepts through visual metaphors and symbolism, while for children's stories, I focus on creating literal and straightforward images.”

What is your favorite medium to work with?TJK: “I used to work a lot with pen and watercolors, but recently, I've been experimenting with acrylics.”&nbsp;I love hearing that you still experiment. You could have stuck with what has been successful in the past but, instead, still explore new and challenging paths to discover something exciting.TJK: “Why would you keep repeating yourself? You never stop learning, and you can continue to find joy in the creative process by challenging yourself.”&nbsp;And how about the dread and insecurity most creatives experience when working on something new: do you still suffer from that?TJK: “That slight panicky feeling never really goes away.”&nbsp;Do you ever get creatively stuck, and if so, how do you handle it?TJK: “When I get stuck, I sometimes put the project aside for a few days. Taking a break often helps me see things with fresh eyes, and then I tend to find a solution.&nbsp;Any advice for young creatives?TJK: “I’m not one to give advice, but I guess something along the line of: do the hard stuff first because, after that, you can just have fun. Know that perfection can be found in happy accidents: things that turn out differently than expected but are still perfect. Also: take your time. Mess around a bit. And the most important thing, I guess, is: do what you love.”

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Thé Tjong-Khing (1933) is something of a legend, although he is far too modest to agree with that label. He is one of the Netherlands' most famous and beloved children's book illustrators: literally, everyone has at one time seen his work. Throughout his almost 70-year professional career, Khing has created dozens of comics and thousands of illustrations for magazines, book covers, and children's books for which, in turn, he has received dozens of awards. But he has not let fame get to his head, and at the age of 90, he still draws every single day. The man’s a legend indeed.&nbsp;

Illustration

ED TEMPLETON: RAW CREATIVITY

HEDY TJIN: THE WORLD AS A CANVAS

THE TJONG-KHING: AN ILLUSTRATED LIFE

Illustration

ED TEMPLETON: RAW CREATIVITY

HEDY TJIN: THE WORLD AS A CANVAS

THE TJONG-KHING: AN ILLUSTRATED LIFE

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