Danish Illustration and the Details That Shape My Art

When I draw, I’m drawn to the small, familiar details that are easy to overlook. A train pulling into a quiet station. A window at the summerhouse lit up at dusk. The worn edge of a stairway that’s been part of daily life for decades.

A 1950s Danish kitchen table — everyday objects from mid-century daily life.

My work as an illustrator is often shaped by these kinds of scenes — moments that could belong to mid-century Denmark, but that still feel close today. I find inspiration in the everyday rhythm of Danish life: a streetlamp on a side street, a square aluminum lunchbox, or a bicycle left against a wall. These are small pieces of a larger picture — the quiet, familiar corners of daily life rather than sweeping views.

Sometimes I notice something that brings me back in an instant — the shape of a lampshade that hasn’t changed in fifty years, or curtains just like the ones my grandmother had in her kitchen. These details hold layers of memory and place. They’re part of the shared visual language of a country, and they shape how I try to tell a story in a single image.

Danish illustration, both today and in the past, often focuses on more than just how a place looks — it tries to hold onto how it feels. That’s something I think about in my work. When I choose a scene or a detail to draw, I’m trying to catch the feeling — whether it’s the stillness before a train arrives or the way light falls across a backyard vegetable garden.

Colored pencil illustration of a Danish mid-century kitchen — small details that tell a quiet story.

I work mainly in colored pencil, sometimes layering in gouache. I’m increasingly starting to work digitally too. Whether I’m sketching a city street or the corner of a kitchen, I’m always trying to hold onto that quiet atmosphere — the mood of the moment that made me stop and look.

➡️ Explore more of my work as part of today’s Danish illustration scene here.