My Story

In 2011, I returned home from a journey of several months from Sydney to Beijing. I had many inspiring conversations on this trip with warm and creative people. They gave me insight into their world – photographers, illustrators, product designers, advertisers, matte painters, and street and survival artists. They shared their stories, which I still learn and draw from today.

To this day, one of the most valuable ideas that ever came to my mind was to combine this trip with my Thesis for communication design. By doing so, I didn't wander aimlessly through cities of millions and villages foreign to tourists. Instead, I was always looking for things that seemed foreign to me. For the unexpected, for visual highlights, and, above all, for people. I traveled with a mission I could hold on to. The Thesis on "unfamiliar" creativity and design was my compass.

How do people on the other side of the world live, move, orientate, communicate and create? How do designers, artists, and students work, and where do they get their inspiration? I always found answers to these questions everywhere, whether on the paradise island of Langkawi, in metropolises like Singapore and Bangkok, in the peaceful fishing villages of China, or in the outback of Australia.

As overwhelming as the impressions and experiences were, one thing was suddenly crystal clear after my return: I wanted to earn a living doing what I love most. I wanted to become a freelance illustrator. Again, I had a compass, and the people I met had proven that reaching this goal was possible.

And then, the journey continued. Not in the Malaysian jungle, where a bunch of monkeys stole my snacks, not in the neon-lit streets of Hong Kong, or in the idyllic silence of the Great Wall of China. Nor in roadhouse restrooms were dozens of black widows spun their webs on the ceilings. The journey continued in my old childhood bedroom.

My bank account balance had dropped drastically to zero when I returned. I had just enough to pay for the bookbinder of my diploma thesis. So after years, I moved back to my parents in my late 20s. A move that was sometimes hard to explain to friends. But I enjoyed it so much. The time with my mother, who followed every small success and setback, and the many hours of card games with my recently retired father. The place to fulfill my dream was ideal.

Wrestling figures and Gameboy games had to give way to my children's room with a heavy heart. Instead, there were now two desks. One for the graphic tablet and the loyal MacBook. I had been using it since the beginning of my studies and begged it to last a little longer. On the other desk lay watercolor boxes, pens of all kinds, stencils, ink, glue, markers, and various types of paper. So I had everything needed to get me started. Only one small thing remained to be clarified: How do I set it up, and where do I actually go? To be precise, what do I want at all?

During my studies, I worked at Esprit in Ratingen, where I designed hundreds of T-shirt graphics. Working fast and being creative at the push of a button was something I internalized here. I was delighted when the request for a long-term collaboration came into my inbox. My first freelance client. Other fashion companies were to follow. So not only did my bank balance recover. I also learned what it meant to work with clients from home on my own.

It took me months to get used to it. There were no fixed working hours or colleagues with whom I could make coffee breaks. No supervisor looking over my shoulder. No spontaneous feedback on designs. While the walls were coming closer and closer, all the critical decisions, from fee negotiations to design decisions, were now up to me. It was new, quiet, and bumpy. It was exciting.

And yet, something was missing. Even if it's flattering to see people in different countries wearing your designs on their chests. Even if the work could hardly have been more diverse because with at least twelve collections a year, every month is a new beginning. One day you're working on summer themes with splashes of watercolor, bright colors, and loose brushstrokes, and the next, you're working with technical photography and typography. Looking back, at some point, that was precisely the sticking point. I felt that these new beginnings no longer appealed to me. I barely felt like I had settled into one style before the next one knocked at the door. I finally wanted to dive in, as deep as possible into the unknown, to discover new worlds again.

So, as I did before the trip, I put my savings in my hands and bought myself some time. Time to make, experiment, fail, and learn. I tried watercolors, digital painting, vector graphics, handwritten typography, and mixed techniques. Every day, frustration and euphoria played ping-pong with my mood. But I knew if the necessity to sleep and eat sucked, I must have been on the right track. I felt like a kid again. Like when playing with Legos and action figures was all that mattered.

Months passed until I was satisfied with a few works so that I could release them to the (digital) world with a clear conscience. My portfolio was ready to go. The first big step was done. Now it was time for step two: How do I reach clients?

Thank you so much for your time if you've read this far. How the second step finally worked out is an exciting and extensive topic. I write about my experiences and thoughts on creativity, freelancing and illustration at www.sergioingravalle.com. Maybe you'll find some helpful info here now or in the future (although not always in perfect English ;). Or feel free to drop me a line.

After all these years, I still enjoy illustration very much. Over time, a second passion has come to me. The desire to be helpful, especially for young people who still have their own journey. In general, I know this is nothing new. It's probably natural to want to pass on the "wisdom" you've gained at some point. Especially if you have children of your own. I feel the same way at the age of 40. Since I still know about how relevant people can inspire others with their personal stories, I always enjoy giving talks at universities, schools, and events. Sharing one's own experiences, good and challenging ones, can empower, motivate, take away fears and doubts, and create clarity. When people walk away from a shared conversation more courageous, it delights me at least as much as drawing and illustrating.

I would now like to use the last lines to do why I started writing this in the first place. I want to say thank you. Thank you to all the people who have contributed to my path up to this point. People who welcomed a foreign student from Germany with open arms. To my parents, my brother, and my friends, who always encouraged me when despair crept in. To my wife, who is my most honest and usually the only critic around. To my teachers and professors, whose words always come up at the right times and encourage me, to loyal followers who share their thoughts with me. To fellow illustrators with whom exciting conversations always arise. It's great to see how an entire industry doesn't compete but instead supports, recommends, and inspires each other.

Thank you to all the people in agencies, companies, and publishers worldwide who have given me their trust over the past years. With you, I have worked on projects I never thought possible when I published my portfolio. Whichever you look at it, hiring a freelancer for a project always requires a leap of faith. I hope I could and will give you the feeling that I am always aware of this and that your project will always become mine and, therefore, ours.

I think I am also writing this because, as enriching as digital globalization may be, personal contact comes up short. You know my website, my work, my emails, and perhaps even my voice, despite some of us working together for several years. With these words, I hope you get a slight additional impression with whom you are writing, talking, thinking, and creating.

I look forward to everything yet to come and the people I will get to know. My studio's name is derived from the Italian words 'mai visto', which means never seen before. I begin drawing every day with this idea in my mind. So: Let's keep creating things together that we both have never seen before!

Ciao
Sergio