Now that I’ve shared the origin story of Unusual Animal Messages, I’m back to talk about what it was like to actually write and illustrate the deck.
And if we’re speaking candidly… It was a lot of work in a very short amount of time!
My go-to philosophy when it comes to work inquiries (and honestly, general life stuff) is to always start with a “yes,” regardless of how complicated or impossible something might seem. So when CICO Books asked if I could write 17,000 words and illustrate 51 paintings in a little under 6 months, it was a resounding, “Of course I can!”
Obviously, it all got done. I never missed a deadline, there were no significant notes that needed to be addressed in either the writing or the art, and I’m pretty chuffed with the end result. Today, the deck can be found out in the wild, grazing on select bookshop shelves and burrowing into the spiritual section of Amazon.
Just like any millennial that grew up in the 90’s, a tumultuous journey is best celebrated by a fabulously cheesy scrapbook photo dump. #oldschool
But, also, there were some major hurdles I needed to bypass to get the darn thing over the finish line.
I was surprised to find that writing the deck was the easiest part. At that point, I had spent the last 13 years painting almost daily and I was confident I could figure out the illustrations. But writing? I’d never done that professionally before, and while they’re both creative endeavors, they use different parts of the brain. I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage switching gears from writing to painting, and back again. I thought the easiest way to do it was to split up my time—a week of painting followed by a week of writing. That made sense, right?
Right!?
I was a bit apprehensive, but once I got into the groove of it, I loved my writing days.
Before I even sent out the proposal, I had already paired each animal with a corresponding message and figured out a structure for the blurbs (which I edited and re-edited 1,000 times to iron out the kinks). All that organization at the beginning of the project ended up saving me a ton of time! The hard part wasn’t actually coming up with animals or their lessons, but figuring out how to deliver complex information in roughly 300 words without losing meaning or relevance. The narwhal gave me a run for my money on that one. The goblin shark, too.
The easiest way to describe how the rest of the project went is to use bullet points. There were so many small (and not-so-small) things I had to figure out along the way, and listing everything offers a great behind-the-scenes peek into my process:
Up until this point, I had never been much of an “art planner”—there wasn't really a reason to be! I mostly worked on individual commissions, with the odd triptych thrown in. But this project was a whole different beast. It featured 52 animals in a themed oracle deck, and to make it work, I needed to create visual cohesion through a consistent presentation, unified color palette, and a clear style. Because of tight editorial deadlines, there was no way I would have wiggle room for guesswork. Instead, I started with digital sketches to lock everything in early, making sure I knew exactly what I was doing when it came time to paint.
Which gets into my next bullet, because I had never drawn digital color sketches for anything before. I threw myself into learning Procreate (basically “Procreate for Dummies,” minus the book). Turns out, its a fairly simple program to get the hang of. Mostly. Though I still haven’t figured out how to draw a perfect circle in it yet.
My first big painting challenge? Finding new paper. To make some of the backgrounds I had pre-planned on Procreate I needed to use masking fluid, but my normal paper ripped when I tried it. Not great when you’re about to make 51 paintings! After some trial and error (and a literal fortune spent on paper samples), I found one that could handle both masking fluid and layers. Now I could make t e x t u r e s !
Speaking of textures, I basically needed to teach myself how to paint backgrounds in gouache. In almost all of my other work, my backgrounds were single matte colors. I’d paint my animal, slap on a color, add a shadow, and call it a day. Now I was doing complex scenes that included textures like sand, concrete, plants, etc. And not just a few of them either… 51! Yikes!
Looking back, I realize that when it finally came time to paint the images, I was thinking like a fine artist and not like an illustrator. I was imagining how the finished pieces would look framed on a wall, without considering how they would translate to a printed card deck. Because of that, I over-calculated how big the paintings needed to be. The first painting was 9.5 x 12.5”, and I did the following 6 as a size 7 x 11” before understanding that I could easily scale down. I eventually found a middle ground and used 5 x 7.5” for a majority of the rest of the paintings. At one point though (when I was really pressed for time) I did a few at 4.2 x 6.5”, and honestly? I could’ve done the whole deck at that size. But you live and learn, you know? In either case, making those changes helped make my workload much more manageable, and still gave me ample space to include all the detail I needed, especially for something printed on the smaller end like an oracle card.
Another unexpected learning curve? Paper. I had been working with the same materials for so long that I had learned all of their nuances and I didn’t realize those might not translate. This new paper was 50% cotton and was way more absorbent than I expected. On my usual paper, colors stayed on the surface and I could blend and layer easily. Not on this one, though! The cotton paper absorbed everything and required a different understanding of how to work with it. Sometimes a color would be even, and other times it would absorb color so fast that my backgrounds were blotchy. I eventually learned that if I wanted a nice, flat color, I needed to work fast. This was a one-and-done deal and if I tried to go over it a second time, it was going to be uneven and pool in odd areas.
The first few “cotton paper” paintings were agonizing. I started off with the animal cards that I thought would be easiest: the immortal jellyfish and common swift. I mean, how hard is it to paint a jellyfish with a solid matte background? Because of its tendrils and deep sea habitat, there was no need to put in anything else. Or a bird flying over a few clouds? Simple enough. But I learned very quickly that black was not a great color on cotton paper (completely uneven). And blending those clouds or painting feathers? I think I did at least 8 different samples before I understood how to do it. Eventually I discovered that for my deep sea friend I needed to mix my black paint with some white, brown, and blue to get an even color. (Don’t ask me for the science of why it worked. I have no idea… but it did!) And for the swift? Well, I learned that I could make clouds by blending/powdering blue into white and that sometimes less detail is better when using cotton paper.
Because I mentioned the immortal jellyfish being one of my most agonizing early paintings, I thought I should clarify that wasn’t only because of the black background. Turns out that finding accurate photos of unusual, odd, or mostly unknown animals is challenging! (Who would have guessed?) When I was doing the digital sketches, I made sure to look at references of each animal and there were plenty of the immortal jellyfish from reputed sources. Surely, they did their due diligence when it came to identifying and labeling their animals, right? Surprisingly not true, at least not when it came to this leggy invertebrate. I worked over the Christmas holiday to make sure I would meet the deadline for my first batch of paintings/blurbs. On the night before hand-in, I was editing the write-up for the immortal jellyfish and needed to double check a fact. I scrolled over to a research paper in a scientific journal, and at the front of it was a photo of an actual immortal jellyfish. IT LOOKED NOTHING LIKE THE ONE I JUST FINISHED PAINTING. Turns out the species I painted was a mislabeled cousin that may, or may not, also be immortal. Let’s just say it was a long night/morning redrawing and painting the darn thing, and the fact that its message was that “It’s okay to start over” was not lost on me. Touché, Universe, you absolutely brilliant prankster.
Turns out, finding the correct photo of the immortal jellyfish is almost as unlikely as something truly being immortal. I do like how the cousin has a bright red interior though—slightly gothic, like another vampiric immortal we all know about but have actually seen before.
I think the turning point for the backgrounds was painting the red-lipped batfish. The background didn’t match my sketch at all, and I couldn’t figure out how to make a realistic sand texture. Several failed attempts led to a creative rage where I just started throwing paint and masking fluid all over my paper… and voila. It bloody worked! Not only did I have a new way of making sand-like textures, I had a process I could replicate. After that, every other ocean scene (and honestly, any other animal that could use an interesting background) got the batfish treatment.
(1) This red-lipped beauty taught me how to blend on cotton paper, and for that I will always be grateful (2) Making sand with gouache felt like I was on the precipice of creation. What an adrenaline rush!
All of these could technically be a blog post of their own (and they probably will be at some point). But for now, I just thought I’d write a semi-quick post about what went into making the Unusual Animal Messages Oracle Deck. If you happen to find any out in the wild, I would love to hear where you saw them… and if you do buy the deck, I would love to hear about what odd animal resonates with you the most! I went with the tenacious little honey badger (but I’ll save that write-up for another day).
x
Manda