Where I come from and where I'm going

Every illustrator has been shaped by others—directly or indirectly. The work of an artist who captured our attention steered the course of our own craft. Sometimes, you can even see those influences hidden in our lines. In this post, I want to talk a little about them.

The Strokes of Childhood

Akira Toriyama

Any kid raised in the ’90s or 2000s saw Dragon Ball Z on their TV, mesmerized by those spiky-haired characters whose energy waves seemed to burst through the screen.

I never picked up a drawing manual in my life because I learned body proportions and musculature from Toriyama. My first attempts at defined eyes were straight copies of his style, just like how I drew sharp angles for men and soft curves for women.

As I grew older, I came to appreciate his vehicles—recognizable yet intricately detailed. And in recent years, I’ve studied his mastery of adventure and humor, better captured in Dragon Ball than in Z. Writing these lines tightens my throat because just listing everything I learned from him makes me wish I’d had the chance to thank him.

O’Kif

Alejandro O’Keeffe (better known as O’Kif) was one of the most prominent artists in Billiken, Argentina’s iconic children’s magazine. He illustrated nearly every cover and created comics in the late ’90s and early 2000s—back when I was part of that captive young audience. He also drew covers for some of Elsa Bornemann’s books.

Though many illustrators passed through Billiken during my time as a reader, O’Kif stood out the most. I can see now how his quasi-realistic style seeped into my subconscious. He was one of those artists who sparked that little urge in me to draw my own comics.

Santiago Dufour & Clemente Montag

In one of a friend’s newsletter, we discussed the impact of children’s illustration books on our generation. And when I think of that influence, I think of the tiny stories from Anteojito, another legendary kids’ magazine in our country.

In 1997, the magazine included the tales pictured above, which weren’t taller than a pen. Most were illustrated by Clemente Montag, creator of one of my favorite strips, Pelopincho y Cachirula. I never copied his style, but I envied how effortlessly he outlined characters and used bold colors—something I deeply admire today.

Another artist from that collection was Santiago Dufour, whose name I only learned while researching for this post. His illustrations had a polished, vibrant palette. La Mochila de Sumatra (The Backpack from Sumatra) was one of my favorites—a story about a seemingly cursed backpack that came alive through Dufour’s art. Like Montag, I didn’t replicate his style, but his work helped me visualize the world around me.

Hugo Scecs

Digging deeper into memory, I rediscovered my favorite drawings in another Anteojito collection: El Libro de Las Maravillas (The Book of Wonders). It was a sticker album book offering a visual journey through different themes—world photography, cultures, curiosities, sculptures, and more. In the mythology section, pencil textures breathed life into legendary figures. “Scecs” was the signature beneath a towering dragon—and that’s how I found the master behind these breathtaking illustrations.

Hugo Scecs was part of Anteojito’s roster of artists, delivering drawings with suggested yet powerful lines. Back then, I didn’t realize it, but his style is one I aspire to today. I’m trading thick outlines for pencil strokes, where color contrast and silhouettes take center stage.

The Brushstrokes of Today

Now, I have a clear vision of the style I want to achieve. Today, there are many artists I study, listen to, and admire.

Estampita

I’ve already talked about her in my last post about my artistic aspirations, but I have to mention her again—she’s a guiding light. There’s something about how she distills characters’ personalities into each illustration that leaves me in awe. I’m lucky enough to have direct contact with her, and she’s always willing to advise me—yet I still feel light-years behind. Her style is as striking as it is unique. I want to keep learning from the dynamism she brings to her art.

Gabriel Picolo

This Brazilian artist gained massive popularity with his Teen Titans illustrations, immersing them in casual, slice-of-life scenes. He’s another one I closely study today.

Even when drawing realistic characters (like his Last of Us piece), he retains his originality—something incredibly hard to achieve. I’m especially drawn to how he renders eyes, and his choice of semi-straight lines is one of my favorite techniques.

Audrey Mok

Mok is a Hong Kong-based artist, mostly working in American comics. I stumbled upon her years ago, and the first time I saw her cover art, I thought: That’s how I want to draw faces.

Like Picolo, I love how she captures gazes and try to emulate that style. She uses fine lines, keeping faces simple while emphasizing body language. It’s a level of abstraction that looks effortless but demands constant practice.

Matías Bergara

You might think I’m exaggerating, but to me, no one in the industry draws like the Uruguayan artist Matías Bergara. His watercolor work is masterful, and his characters lean into caricature with exaggerated features—giving his art a universal appeal.

His sweeping watercolor blends and textured brushstrokes are unmistakable. His outlines are simple or implied, much like Hugo Scecs’. Every piece he creates leaves me dazzled, and I aspire to evoke that same reaction with my own work.

Drawing Toward Tomorrow

While writing this post and spending hours researching these names, I connected the dots between my childhood influences and what I do today. I see traces of what these illustrators imprinted on me, and in a way, it feels like closing a circle—their work shaped my artistic compass.

I don’t dare compare myself to any of them, but I do want to thank and honor them the only way I know how: by drawing.

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