Danish Illustrator with a Vintage Lens: Notes from My Sketchbook

There’s something about the visual language of the past - muted tones, quiet faces, the handmade feel of it all.

As a Danish illustrator drawn to vintage-inspired aesthetics, I find myself returning to certain textures, colors, and moments. Whether I’m sketching from memory or building a scene from scratch, my work is shaped by an affection for the overlooked details of everyday life. I’m not trying to replicate a specific era, but there’s always a thread running through it: something lived-in, slightly off-center, and touched by time.

Campground, Danish summer 1954 - pencil on paper.

A Style Rooted in Memory

My illustrations aren’t nostalgic for nostalgia’s sake. They grow out of the textures I grew up around - worn books on shelves, wooden radios with soft corners, the hush of vinyl playing somewhere in the house. I come from a family of musicians and artists, so maybe it’s no surprise that atmosphere is such a big part of how I see things.

Much of my work could be described as vintage-inspired illustration, drawing from the mood and aesthetic of old book illustrations and antique visual culture. I often reference textures and palettes from mid-century Danish design, but there’s also a quiet thread of European folktales and American storybook art that shapes the tone of these drawings.

When I draw, I’m often pulling from a feeling more than a reference photo. There might be a man at the edge of his field, or a woman drinking coffee by a window. But what I’m drawing is a sense of time - something paused, slightly faded, but real. A creative day in Copenhagen felt a bit like that.

What I Look For (and Leave Out)

Much of my process is about restraint. I leave out what doesn’t belong - clutter, polish, too much modernity. I want the drawing to breathe. If the composition feels quiet and slightly imperfect, that’s usually a good sign.

Early sketch for a vintage-inspired Danish illustration, drawn in pencil.

I lean toward pencils and analog textures, even if I sometimes finish digitally. I love soft shadows, smooth grain, and muted palettes. And I’m drawn to faces that aren’t quite symmetrical. They feel more honest that way.

The Sketchbook as a Place of Work

The sketchbook is where most of my illustration work begins - part visual notebook, part rehearsal space. Time moves differently when I’m drawing. I’m not “in the zone” so much as watching something unfold through my hands. It’s quiet, but it’s work.

📌 Curious how this connects to my acting work?

Read Subtle Tools for Self-Tapes (and Scenes That Matter) — where performance meets precision.

Or explore my Art Portfolio.