narrative visual artist & illustrator
I am a full time narrative visual artist. I tell stories in many mediums. I favor the use of vivid color and heavy linework. My work is not photorealistic. It is fanciful, fun, entertaining, sometimes cartoonish, but subtly thought-provoking. I am fond of layering deeper meaning in my work — unnoticed stories, but accessible if you see them. I have exhibited in over 90 locations across Chicagoland. I have been a featured artist for Chicago Artist Month, have exhibited at Harold Washington Library and recently opened solo exhibits at Dittmar Gallery and One River Art School. I was a featured/commissioned artist and guest speaker at the 39th annual International Conference of Fantastic in the Arts. I have installed four murals in Oak Park, Illinois, as a part of their city mural project. In 2018, I painted a wine barrel at City Winery Chicago Riverwalk to benefit Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art. I have illustrated a 400-page webcomic and designed and produced two Lenormand decks — like tarot: "Turned Earth," featuring images of beloved Midwest Indiana, and "Worldview," featuring illustrations of my paintings. They can be found all over the world. In 2023, I was commissioned by my hometown (Crown Point, Indiana) to design, brand and execute a piece of public art as a the focal point of a walking tour, funded by the Indiana Destination Development
Artist Statement
I am a storyteller. I learned in my youth that under the swing and go of a good story is a deeper understanding that most will never know exists. This would become a fundamental pillar of my creative process and exploring that deeper understanding has motivated me throughout my creative journey.
I began my career as a full-time visual artist and illustrator in 2008. I had just finished directing a play that was written to have 10 performances before its script was burned, creating an ephemeral experience for those that saw it before it disappeared forever. I had been using my degree in theatre for 9 years at that point as an actor, director, designer and producer. Kevin Kilroy’s play, “The Silence of Malachi Ritscher,” took a lot out of me. It was an intense story of a man who self-immolated on the Dan Ryan, unnoticed, for his beliefs in 2006. It was well-received and the experience invaluable, but I needed a break to recharge and find my own voice again. In an effort to relax, I returned to a life-long hobby and decided to make a painting using a discarded window (recovered from an alley behind a gut-rehab) as a canvas. Clearing my mind, I stared into its glass and almost immediately noticed the subtle movement of light, playing in the corners of its frame. The light grew in intensity as it manifested into racing lines of flowing energy that traveled over the glass, collecting at spots and solidifying until a crystal-clear image appeared, frozen in the pane.
Mesmerized by the phenomenon, I did my best to capture the image I saw on its surface. I created layers of depth with a recycled cardboard box and illuminated color with vivid pigments of acrylic paint—the style, a sort of outlined cel shading with interlocking black “linework” accents, would come to be my preferred mode of painting. Satisfied I had captured what I’d seen and tickled by the experience, I promptly returned to the alley to collect more discarded windows with hope that other magic was waiting to be discovered. Fortunately, I was not disappointed.
As I continued to paint the extraordinary images I found in each window, I began to see connections in their subject matter, a story. Over time, i would come to discover these images were not just manifestations of my own imagination. They were actually a form of direct communication using images of another world from the other side of the glass, placed-there by an “enlightened” typeface designer I would come to know as “53947”. Each painting was a self-contained story, a topic for discussion and fuel for learning, but when connected on a wall and exhibited in collection, a group of individual paintings became an entire story—a deeper understanding.
Creating with intention to share is another pillar of my process, and in order to share this creation with the greatest audience possible, I refrained from pursuing gallery space and instead opted for the walls of shops, cafes and salons. These would prove to be excellent locations for easy viewing of my story-exhibits and were fortunately well-enough-received by patrons that they provided me with means to continue my creative growth, unhindered by a day job.
I committed to a 40 hour work week and became consumed by a need for exploration—for learning new means to tell stories. I began using recycled cardboard as a sculpting medium, ultimately creating a sculptural-story exhibit on a bookshelf in Chicago’s Harold Washington Library.
I honed my illustration skills with Adobe Creative Suite through commissioned graphic design. As I developed with the software, I chose to mostly to work for new creatives with barriers to access and limited means, hoping to encourage a growing creative community and help it thrive. Creatively, I jumped at the opportunity to illustrate Roby Duncan’s “Smaller Totems,” and found myself illustrating a 400-plus page ongoing webcomic with a twice-per-week release schedule. As before in the theatre, this creative collaboration taught me yet another valued mode for storytelling.
I gave myself 20 minute breaks between painting and illustrating fugues, during which I took to exploring music and the instruments that create it. Over 14 years and in 20 minute increments, I learned to “competently” play guitar, banjo, mandolin, violin, bass, and cello. To share the resulting music-making, I learned the tools to mix and edit. With the addition of an active YouTube page, I had access to a new story mode—voices now ring in my storytelling toolbox.
My painting attentions soon turned to public art. I found opportunity to sharpen my skills in a yearly mural painting competition in Rogers Park (my neighborhood in Chicago) for a dozen years. This prepared me well for an opportunity to create my first permanent public art in the very first round of the village of Oak Park’s Mini Mural Project. It would not be my last. At this point, I’ve installed an additional 3 brush-painted murals. Each tells their own story, but when considered together, they become moving parts of a more significant whole. I hope to have opportunity to continue that story.
When the pandemic hit, I fell back on illustration and created two 36-card Lenormand oracle decks, “Turned Earth Little Lenormand” and “worldview lenormand”. Both were made possible by successful Kickstarters and “Turned Earth” has found its way to a second print. The sales helped in the lean pandemic years and as a result my art—and my story—can now be found, guiding people, world-wide.
I was fortunate to be asked by my hometown of Crown Point to create a centerpiece mural for a 10-location walking tour exploring the heritage and history of the city. A recovered horse-sized fiberglass bulldog would be the canvas for the mural and I would be additionally tasked with creating an accompanying coloring book as well as branding and other assets for the project. To say this was the culmination of 14 years of learning would be to put it minimally. The opportunity to tell a story of my hometown in my hometown was priceless and it left me full of creative fire.
I am a storyteller and I have been fortunate to explore many mediums over my 45 years. I have always been drawn to create with intention to share and I’ve learned that my creative potential is only limited by a lack of knowledge. If I can learn a thing, I can do it. Fearless creation has become a part of my process. My father would say, “All you have to do it want to.” I want to continue to tell stories, to create, to entertain and enrich and to add my voice to the creative zeitgeist as long as I draw breath. I am obligated to no other in this world and I have dedicated my remaining years to that goal. - lewis lain, 2023