The stereotypical paradigm for visual artists involves a solitary creative existence, one where the artist is alone in a studio with nothing but blank paper or canvas and a personal vision to bring to life. But the reality can be quite different when you're an illustrator—though according to local artist David Habben, that doesn't make the work any less fulfilling.
An alumnus of art programs at both the University of Utah and Brigham Young University, Habben traces his artistic origin story to growing up in a home with a mother who was an elementary school librarian. "We always had illustrated books around, and valued writing and that kind of art, so it wasn't a big jump for me to be an artist," Habben recalls. "It's something you do as a kid, but once I got into college and started taking classes, the question wasn't whether I wanted to, but was it even possible? ... I came from a blue-collar family, and the idea that you could make money as an artist, or make a living that way, wasn't something you could do."
In that sense, Habben approached the prospect of a professional artistic career in a very pragmatic way. "I wasn't a standout math student," he says with a laugh. "This is what I've got, can I make it work? Then that turned into, this is what I've got, I have to make it work. ... My understanding of the artistic world was so limited that it felt the only options were illustration or fine art [and] illustration seemed like the only way."
As a result, Habben says he has tended to approach his choice of projects with a similar pragmatism, taking whatever kind of illustrating job was available. But while it might be possible to see such a track as one without a distinctive "vision," Habben believes that it has offered him a unique opportunity for creative versatility. "That sounds like a desperation thing, saying yes to whatever comes," he notes. "But for me, it's been great in opening doors, and doing things I wouldn't have done otherwise. Saying yes to whatever comes, when I was younger, it was about saying yes so you could pay rent. And saying yes to opening artistic doors is good, too. I've had some amazing opportunities to grow as an artist."
That kind of work-for-hire is inevitably collaborative, which can be a paradigm shift from that aforementioned idea of the visionary artist. "We have this idea of the artist coming in and being themselves, and have all their style come through," Habben says. "Then there's the polar opposite of illustrators just doing what they're told. The sweet spot is in the middle, where they appreciate what you do, and what you bring to the table."
Habben's latest published project along these lines is the Bridget Vanderpuff series of children's books, by Scottish author Martin Stewart. Habben recalls that his initial concepts for the character designs were "a lot more strange and distorted. I think, 'I'm going to do my own version of this, it's kind of wild and kind of different.' And they come back with, 'maybe too wild, maybe too different.' ... Some clients give me a little more rope and let me play. In children's publishing, we have to walk a different line, but that has its own rewards as well."
There's an additional challenge to working on a long-term project like an open-ended children's book series, Habben observes: Making sure that those ultimate character design decisions remain consistent over a span of several years working on the books. "You make that commitment to seeing it through," he says, "and trying to see that it doesn't change too much over that time: 'Oh shoot, I hope she doesn't look too different now than she did two years ago.'"
In addition to his own artistic work, Habben works as an associate professor in the art department at BYU, an opportunity that has allowed him to become a bit more selective when it comes to that "saying yes to everything" mentality; "Teaching full-time has been a way to narrow down the hats I'm wearing," he says. "There's a certain point where you can't run the marathon anymore." That teaching environment is also, however, a place to confront in his students that tendency for people to draw a line between what some would consider "pure art" and commercial art.
For him, those distinctions are an unnecessary binary in thinking about creative work. "I've been in some environments where people are very content to let other people tell them what they want, and they make it, and that feels fine for them," Habben says. "And I've been in arenas where being told anything about your art is kind of repulsive. [But] we're visually communicating, and whether that's through a client or your own work in a gallery, it all has value."