Step into Anne Stalinski’s Creative Comic World

Anne Stalinski is an illustrator who loves mixing words and images with swirly lines and playful splashes of color. Her work shows up everywhere—newspapers, magazines, children’s books, and beyond—always tied together by her unmistakable Anne style.

At parties, she’ll downplay it with a casual, “I draw stuff for newspapers and books,” but there’s much more to her story!

She has illustrated children’s books like De Bromvliegzwaan, De Man in de Klok, and Stinkend Rijk Worden, creates comics that riff on everyday absurdities, and fills sketchbooks with doodles of life’s delightful oddities. At events, she even draws live—whether with markers, ink, or iPad—capturing the moment on the spot.

We sat down with Anne to explore what fuels her offbeat creations, how she wrestles with self-doubt, and what art school did (and didn’t) teach her. She opens up about her dreams, her place in the creative community, and how she nudges herself past her comfort zone—all with her trademark wit and charm.

You describe your work style as having flowing lines and “wonky” color fields. How did you arrive at this style? Was there a moment when you thought, “Yep, this is my thing,” or does your hand just do what it wants?

My hand pretty much just does what it wants, big picture-wise, but I also practice a ton in sketchbooks with different materials, and of course, I soak up a lot of visuals and illustrations from others. So, I guess my style’s a mash-up of influences, inspiration, a whole lot of experimenting, and just the hand I’ve always had. I’m kind of a practical gal when it comes to style—ink is quick and easy, and if I wanted some super neat, polished coloring vibe, I’d have to be way more patient, which, sadly, I’m not. I think, in a way, the style you work in says something about your personality.

Did you discover your style during art school? Or were you exploring a completely different area while trying to find your artistic voice?

I kinda wish I’d spent my art school days finding my style, because looking back, it would’ve been cool to get some guidance on that. But back then, I was all over the place with all sorts of weird projects—making videos, little books, animations, and yeah, tons of drawings and illustrations too, but it was all about the idea and the process, not so much the style. Thinking about it now, though, I get it. I taught at Minerva for two years, and when students got too hung up on “finding their style,” it often stopped them from experimenting with stuff they didn’t instantly love. Maybe all those wild experiments weren’t such a bad idea after all.

Cake's founder attended the same Fine Arts Academy. Those academy years felt like a world of their own. Plans were allowed to be grand and unrealistic; there was always something going on. But preparation for life after the academy? Hardly. What was the best thing you learned at art school about being an illustrator/artist? And what didn’t they teach you that made you think afterward, “Guys, why didn’t I know this?!” Super important question, this one! I’m not sure if an art school’s supposed to fully prep its students for life after graduation. Everyone’s path is so different, it’s hard to give one-size-fits-all advice. But some examples of what that life might look like would’ve been nice.

I remember talks from alumni and one from a tax office lady, but those came at times when I wasn’t even thinking about the real world yet. I’m the kind of person—sadly—who does things at her own pace and only when it feels right deep down, so I’m not sure a checklist of tips would’ve done the trick. Still, I wish I’d heard: Go find your people (ideally ones you can share a studio or workspace with), and it might take a while, so keep looking. Don’t start ten fun projects at once—keep it small and manageable. There’ll be times when you take every gig that pays, and hopefully times when you can be pickier (so be picky when you can!).

Are you consciously practicing to become technically better or more fluid in your drawing? And how does that practice relate to what you want to express through your work?

So, I actually find it pretty tough to keep training myself in this, even though it’s totally worth it. I often draw on the spot for companies—like at a conference, lecture, or brainstorm—and you’ve gotta come up with something and get it on paper fast. Practicing your visual vocab beforehand really pays off. It’s just a no-brainer, honestly, and I wish I practiced more.

You’ve won the Zilveren Penseel and have done great assignments for Dutch newspapers like Algemeen Dagblad and Financieel Dagblad, but do you ever look at a drawing and think, “Ugh, this is rubbish”? 
Do you have an inner critic, and how do you deal with it? Strangely enough, I can usually hush my inner critic when I’m working on assignments—there’s a deadline to hit, and no time to mess around. That said, the first time I work for a new client, it’s totally nerve-wracking (“Do they even want my stuff? Are they sure? Is this gonna be a huge letdown??”). But once I connect with an art director and they’re pleased, the critic goes silent for a while. Sometimes I’m tempted to make an illustration entirely on the iPad, thinking, “Those digital brushes look just like the real thing,” but they don’t (especially when you look back later—it’s like they lose their spark over time). Then I feel a bit embarrassed for taking a shortcut instead of using a real brush and pen. Oh, and when I’m drawing live on the spot, the time pressure sometimes leads me to create drawings I know are similar to ones I’ve done before. I feel like that’s a bit of a weak move on my part, but the client doesn’t know what I do for other projects, so they’re still happy.

If you could dream up the ultimate project, what would it be? A giant comic about how weird life is, a massive mural in a random place, or something else entirely?

What a fun question! I’d love to be sent out as an illustrator to tackle a big theme—like loneliness or sustainability—traveling to all sorts of places to talk to people and observe, and then turn it into a book. Like I’m an anthropologist, but one who makes drawings. Maybe a city or town could fund it, and that way, they’d get a poetic and artistic glimpse into what’s alive in the world!

You co-founded the comic magazine Aline and do all these cool collaborations — do you feel part of a larger artistic community? Or do you sometimes just enjoy working solo in your sketchbook, wondering where you fit in?

I definitely feel part of the Aline community in spirit, but we only get together now and then, and in between, it’s quite a journey figuring out where I belong. I have a studio in a building full of all sorts of creative people, which is nice, and I’m trying to pull together an informal drawing club with illustrators and artists. I also love joining groups I feel connected to, but the illustrator life often feels like a solitary thing. I’m a bit of a lone wolf, so it suits me, but finding the right groups is important too, to keep from getting too lonely.

Tips to stay focused and comfortable with a dedicated workspace!

In 2024, you won an International Comic Award in Angoulême. Can you tell us something about the International Comics Festival in Angoulême and what impact such an award has on you?

Comic creators are such kind people; they work so hard, hardly anyone gets rich, and they’re true craft nerds who just want to draw. The award in Angoulême led to a lot of media attention, so tons of new, young (and older) artists reached out asking if we could publish their work. Aline prefers people coming together to create new stuff, not just publishing what’s already out there, though. Still, it was nice getting that recognition!

Do you ever feel the itch to try something completely outside your comfort zone? What’s the scariest or wildest thing you’ve tried (or want to try) to shake up your style?

Sometimes I think about inventing an alter ego, like “Henk de Vries,” you know, a super typical Dutch guy’s name, and doing completely different things, like abstract collages, large still lifes, or Dadaist poetry. Lately, I’ve been toying with the idea of making videos, a sort of drawing show where I’d do drawing experiments, partly trying brand-new stuff and partly just drawing the way I usually do, so you can see a piece come to life in real time. Maybe there are already enough drawing shows, but I’m still mulling it over. I’ve also been writing a lot lately, and I want to weave that more into my work. That feels new and exciting, even though my work often includes text; a standalone written piece feels totally different.

Your drawings feel very intuitive, but what about structure? Are you a person of lists, schedules, and productivity, or do you let creative chaos run its course? Do you have to force yourself to create some order? And do you have tips for (neurodivergent) artists or designers who are also trying to get a grip on their own wild, creative world?

This is absolutely my favorite topic! The meeting of structure and chaos it’s like an illusion, but such a good thing to think about. I used to be all about schedules and productivity, with time blocks and color codes, but I’ve started letting that go because it made me so efficient that my days were completely packed, and I was enjoying my work less (forget about relaxed experimenting). Productivity can almost become a goal in itself, because checking things off feels so satisfying. But do those things actually lead anywhere? That’s what I’m trying to ask myself now. The great thing about creative and neurodivergent people is that chaos just wants to burst out. So, what do you need to let the chaos flow without drowning in it? I make lists, but I also schedule “making time” just to dive in. I break big projects into smaller pieces (and maybe accept that huge, long-term projects aren’t for me). Read more on why free time matters in art and life!

I find accountability, like telling someone, “Hey, can you ask me about my book in a week?” and suddenly I’m working on it. I look at what I’ve made, see if there’s a thread running through it, and think about where it could go. My Substack is my favorite for this! I see it as a public progress report of what’s happening in my creative practice. I recently listened to this podcast about creativity and routines, and it nails it perfectly. Another thing that helps: write down all your ideas, but not every idea needs to be made. You don’t have to do everything, even if being busy feels good. A good tip: to make personal work, you need inspiration, and for that, you sometimes have to live a little instead of always working productively. The best part about creative minds is that they never stop; they just keep going, maybe especially when you’re on vacation or at a party. So don’t shy away from living.

Your illustrations sometimes look like screen prints, linocuts, or crayons, etc. So beautiful! Do you work a lot with Procreate for that style? Do you use a ton of different brushes, or do you have a few favorites you always turn to? Which ones are they, and how do you achieve that analog look digitally — or do you secretly work by hand?

I definitely start by hand! For the lines especially, I use a brush with ink, a fineliner, or a marker. That lively flair just doesn’t come through digitally (maybe a viewer can’t tell the difference, but I can!). The quirky color fields, though, I love doing digitally. I like the mix of control (color fields where I can shift, erase, and cut with precision) and looseness (lines drawn in one fluid motion). The textures I also make by hand and scan in, then layer over the color fields. And as for colors, they’re easier to control digitally (to make sure that red is really red), but I always pick them “analog” style, using a stack of paint swatches from the hardware store. I try to see the iPad as a finishing tool; all my creative choices happen on paper. Discover how colors influence feelings, shape experiences, and create atmosphere.

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