Sketchbooks and Slow Seasons: How Danish Weather Shapes My Illustrations

I don’t think of my sketchbooks as projects. They’re closer to a habit. Sometimes it’s a full spread, other days just a few lines. A corner of a field. A coat hung by the door. They accumulate like weather notes — small, unspectacular, but telling.

A seasonal garden and autumn fields in the Danish countryside, late September.

The seasonal rhythm here in Denmark shapes how I work. Winter isn’t decorative; it alters how people move. Summer has a kind of hush to it, particularly on the coast or along country roads. These changes find their way into my drawings. Not by design, but almost by absorption, where this kind of seasonal quiet tends to show up in my sketchbooks.

There’s often a delay — I might draw a summer memory in January. But the atmosphere holds. That’s what I’m looking for. Not realism, exactly. Just a kind of truth about how the day felt.

Some pieces are more direct, like one based on a campground scene from a 1950s Danish summer. Others are quieter. A ceramic bowl sitting on a mid-century table. A woman walking with her coat drawn close. The weather’s not in the picture, but it shaped the moment.

Campground scene, drawn from memory of a 1950s Danish summer

I think that’s what I respond to most in older Danish illustrations, too. Not just the style, but the sense of place. Something local, but never loud. You see it in signage, in book art, in old household catalogs. A visual language shaped by the seasons.

That language still speaks to me — and sometimes, through the drawings, I get to respond.

If you enjoy work shaped by memory and landscape, you can explore more illustrations here or read about The Influence of Old Book Illustrations on My Work, which explores how antique visual culture continues to shape my illustration style.