While studying psychology, I learned about different critical periods babies and children go through, that are vital for their maturation, development, their growth, and consequently, their overall well-being. Recently, I have realized that I might be going through a critical period of my own, because even though these past few months may not have been of utmost importance for my physical development, on every other level and aspect on which a person can grow, this period was indeed crucial.
You wake up one day and don't feel as happy as the day before, not as satisfied, as motivated, driven, as dedicated. Still in your bed, you open Instagram, scroll through twisted representations of what people call their lives, judge some, envy the rest. Your friends' success that used to make you proud, now makes you bitter. You keep telling everyone you are just trying to find yourself, when you are actually just avoiding yourself.
In a nutshell, I was going through it. The upside of the days of my avoidance was that, during that time, I had the opportunity to talk to incredible people whose stories I cherish, whose work I appreciate, and whose character I whole-heartedly admire. One of them is Mark Ulriksen, a San Francisco-based illustrator and an all-around great guy. Aside from telling me the stories behind his favorite covers for The New Yorker and giving me the inside scoop on his creative process, Mark and I also covered his not-so-linear path to where he is today. His words, which you will be seeing plenty of down below, had a huge impact on the shift in my focus and the outlook on my current… situation.
autobiography in a tweet.
"Passionate about his passions."
Acknowledging his own creativity
„In kindergarten, playing with a wooden block, and something looked like a head, and I fit it into another part that looked like a body, and made a little man out of it.“ That was Mark's answer to my question on whether or not he can recall the first self-proclaimed creative piece of his own creating. And even though he acknowledges his creativity from an early age, he agrees with Picasso when he says that the difficulty is staying an artist once you grow up. „I kinda came in and out of being creative, 'cause I never thought you could actually make a living out of this.“ And look at him now.
The journey & the lessons
Even though you might assume otherwise, Mark did not always want to be an artist. He had the skills, and got some appreciation and encouragement in his teen years, but he used to be all about sports.
„I never took (art) too seriously. I wanted to be an athlete, as you could tell by my sports art, and all I lacked was ability and size… so that was not gonna happen. You just never know how life will take a different direction.“
Mark didn't really humour the idea of being an artist in any serious capacity until his mid 20s. He was working as a graphic designer at a university and at a publishing group – he was in the art sphere, but not quite where he wanted to be. Below, Mark highlights a conversation he had with a friend once he started thinking and talking about maybe doing the art thing full-time.
"My friend, who was older than me and smarter than me, she kind of served as a mentor. She said: „Look, if you really want to be an artist, you gotta know your stuff.“, and she said, „You got to, like, write down your dreams, and you got to figure out what they mean, and you've got to find out what you love and why, and what you fear and why...“
And when she told me all that, I was like „forget it, that's too hard“. But then I realized I am really self-reflective and analytical. She also encouraged me to keep a jorunal when I was 27, so that made me learn who I am.“
Point of the story could be that she served him with a big fat reality check, but I am deciding to focus on two other things here. First is the fact that everyone needs guidance at some point in their lives, whether it be personal or professional. We might not know it, we might not want it, or ask for it, but learning from others and letting them help is an asset and a privilege. Second thing worth pointing out is pretty simple – everyone on this planet needs to put the work in. There are no shortcuts to success.
Mark did end up giving illustrating a chance in his twenties, but only for a year. It was a lot of trial and error, it was all black and white, and I was terrifed of colors, Mark says. I couldn't imagine a world in which a guy who paints the vibrant tones of jazz music in vivid purples could ever be afraid of colors, but he explained that he had never taken art classes, and that playing it safe was what he was doing at the time.
One of the moments, an epiphany, he calls it, that pushed him towards being more bold, open and brave in his art, happened in the city of love and light, while exploring art in the Picasso Museum.
„At the Picasso Museum, there is the great Picasso's, then there is the good Picasso's, then there is the mediocre Picasso's, then there is the crappy Picasso's. And I didn't know Picasso could be crappy. I didn't know he did stuff that was… kinda lousy, as well as amazing. And I was like… „You know what, it's okay, you can fail, you don't have to be perfect right away." So I think you have to not be afraid of failure, and not let failure dissuade you, because you are going to fail.“
It was refreshing to hear about the positive aspects of embracing failure in times when failure is practically considered a curse word. Accepting that failure is a part of the process prepares us for breaking the toxic cycle of not doing things because we are afraid of making a mistake.
To put it in basketball terms, the ones who have the ball in their hands the most, are often the ones with most turnovers. It is not a statistical anomaly – if you are constantly working, it is inevitable you will fail at times.
Just take these words as a simple reminder that failure stands for nothing more but an attempt.
The creative process
About thirty years after his visit to the Picasso Museum, Mark still stands behind the thoughts he had way back when – but because of his dedication and growth, he is now able to do things more efficiently and adapt his surroundings so that they are in line with what he wants to create. One of the big things Mark implemented in his creative routine is listening to music - it doesn't serve just as background noise, since he often finds himself drawing inspiration from it.
„Music gets me in the right set of mind. I don't like white space. I am constantly trying to fill my world with stuff. I know some people who only work in silence, and I can't, I have to have stimulation, and music does it for me. If I'm working, trying to get ideas for New Yorker covers, I'm trying to feel like I'm in New York City, so I put on Gershwin. Gershwin, for me, is very New York oriented. And if, maybe, my mood isn't the best, I might put on some music that is upbeat. If I don't have to think, if I already have the idea, and I just have to perform, get this thing painted, I might have to put on.. I have a million playlists.. and I will just sing a long.“
When asked about any other influences he might have, Mark had an encouraging, open-minded response.
„If you're an artist, the idea is, just keep your eyes open, for everything. Paying attention to the news, I'd get ideas for The New Yorker covers, I'd jot something down, throw it in a folder. Watching a movie, I do still frames and I keep a folder of that. Then there is also encountering great lighting, or certain lighting as seen in film noir. I'd find something that I like and apply it to some sort of character.“
Since he had mentioned certain aspects of real life he likes to incorporate in his own work, I had to dig a little deeper and find out how exactly is it that Mark starts to even think about creating something. And being an artist with every bone in his body, his answer did not disappoint. Below is a description of how Mark, nowadays, starts his projects.
„Typically, because I'm a big movie fan, I might just close my eyes and try to picture what I am illustrating as a scene in a movie. I'm thinking about what this scene would be, the still frame from the movie, that's gonna represent whatever I'm illustrating. I think of it that way, because when I first started out, I didn't know how you decide what to put in a picture, so I decided I was going to think of myself as a director. Asking questions like „what's the setting, what time of day is it, where is the light coming from, what props do I need in the scene? Am I the audience in the first row, or am I in the balcony, am I way over on the left, or am I on the right?“ I'm just in tune with films, I put myself in that position and then I can figure out the visual.“
Cover art
Out of all the incredible covers, I tried to pick three that, I felt, could have an interesting story behind them, but talking to Mark, I've come to realize that every cover, especially with The New Yorker, is connected to a bigger story, an anecdote, a lesson. Since we didn't have the time for all of them, though, I did stick with my picks, and let Mark take me behind the scenes of three of his New Yorker covers.
Cover #1: Derek Jeter Bows Out
Mark, as you can see from his art, loves his baseball, and it is actually the thing that caught my eye while I was browsing through his portfolio. Because I keep combining sports and art while having these conversations, it was, well, pretty cool, to talk to someone who can geek out about sports, and then translate his die-hard-fan love onto a piece of paper. FYI: Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees are like Boston Celtics and Philadelphia 76ers. Or like you and that ex that you never ever want to see again. Ever.
„I am a Boston Red Sox fan, but Jeter, he is like one of the few Yankees I respect and admire, he's got an exemplary career, so I really was happy to celebrate him. Since it was in the fall when he was retiring, and it's also the fall of his career, it felt like deep colors of fall were most appropriate. Leslie, my wife, she had an idea: heroic, from down below, looking up, from behind. Fortunately, Jeter has an interesting shape to his head, so he is recognizable from behind. So that worked out nicely. I did see some comment saying he has a nicer butt than that.“
Laughing, Mark explains to me that he used Barry Bonds' butt for this cover, a player he doesn't like, which he had already illustrated, so he isn't saying that it is actually Derek Jeter's butt. Side note: I have so much respect for Mark for clearing this up.
Cover #2: Dress Reversal
The story behind me choosing this cover is – I knew it had to have a good backstory. It could have been perceived as political, and subsequently cause a lot of ruckus amongst the public, yet, for Mark, this one isn't about politics, but challenging humanity, and hoping people would start considering some things differently.
„This was when, briefly, gay marriage was allowed, before the Bush administration. Since wedding day is the most important day in a lot of peoples lives, especially the woman, who gets to wear the wedding gown - if we're gonna allow gay marriage, there's maybe gonna be a guy who wants to try out the same gown. That's why I had them looking at each other. The genesis of that idea was from years and years before, of two women shopping in NYC, with arms full of gifts, and they pass each other on the streets, and they have the exact same, super fancy outfit on. The art director, Françoise Mouly – the best – said she liked the idea of echoing outfits, or people, but told me I wasn't saying anything with it. (...) I knew I could say something now, with this idea, two people echoing each other.“
Cover #3: Valentines or Love The One You're With
Visually, this is probably my favorite cover that Mark did for The New Yorker magazine. It is something about the combination of the vibrant red background and the full-page pattern that makes this cover stick out from all the others. And that is without even mentioning the meaning this cover holds in Mark's eyes, and, hopefully, a message it sends to the observer.
„It's a little more prosaic than you would think. My younger daughter got a kaleidoscope, and I thought that it was so cool, and it prompted me to do something with a pattern for The New Yorker. Also, since artists reference other artists, that is just what happens, whether all of public knows it or not, so I thought „Why don't I reference something from The New Yorker's past“, and one of the most controversial covers was of a kissing couple done by Art Spiegelman, during a riot, in Brooklyn. It's of a Hasidic Jew kissing a Black woman, and it caused a big uproar."
"I just thought, „Well, I'm just gonna push it, I'm gonna write down all the kinds of incorrect couples, cop and robber, doctor-patient, old-young, Black-White, Arab-Jew, Army-Navy, cowboy-Indian..“ The only one that The New Yorker asked me to replace was of a priest kissing a nun.. But it's like, I could have been snarky and said „Should I have a priest with a little boy?“ That is still probably my favourite cover that I have done for them. I call it Love The One You're With. They call it Valentines. But you know, that's my whole take on life. I hate all of this sectarianism and tribalism, we're all God's children, we're all human beings, so if someone finds love with someone else, great.
Creating space for what matters
At the end of every conversation, I ask creators to reflect on any topic that they feel needs to take up proper space in today's society. Mark, all through our conversation, and in the decades worth of his artwork, keeps reflecting on, and referring to the social issues that most of us are very aware of and familiar with. Even though he gets straight to the point with his art and doesn't hesitate to criticise, call out and acknowledge horrendous inequalities that have been set as default in America, and the world, he offers a positive outlook on the present, and the future days, while highlighting what is important to him.
"I hope that you know, whenever things are scary or hard, just remember life's a pendulum, and pendulums swing. I'm just looking forward for the pendulum to be more in balance. I am looking forward to more respect for each other. Solidarity. Human life is so incredibly short - if you have 80 years on a planet that's millions of years old, you're just here for a little bit of time, so appreciate it, you know, it's a gift that we're even alive, it's a miracle that we're here, that we get to breathe, and laugh, and have joy, as well as sorrow and pain. It's all part of the equation."
To wrap this up, yes, I have been in shambles. All over the place. In state of disorder. I wish I could call it a mid-life crisis, but it was just a long-lasting meet&greet between avodiance and confusion. And I'm not saying I have it all figured out now, after one hour-long, transatlantic FaceTime conversation where I discussed life journeys and art. What I am saying, though, is that after months of thinking and planning and deciding about my future, I am finally not feeling the pressure of having all the answers and doing the most right now. I'm leaving the outside noise where it belongs, and actually living by my own rules and in my own time. It is a tough, but a liberating thing to do in an era in which we are constantly surrounded by everyone's accomplishments and timelines. But as long as we keep the focus on ourselves, put the work in, and accept that everything takes time, I promise you, we will be good. If, while you're at it, you find yourself surrounded by a few good friends, beautiful art and some quality music to vibe to – you should consider yourself one lucky human being.
Check out some of my favourite covers by Mark Ulriksen for The New Yorker magazine. ©The New Yorker. All rights reserved.
Check out more of my favourite artwork by Mark Ulriksen from his IG and his website. ©Mark Ulriksen. All rights reserved.
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