Illustration Tools I Keep Coming Back To (and Why It’s Almost Always Pencil)

There’s always something new in illustration — water-soluble graphite, mixed media paper innovations, digital brushes that mimic ink or chalk.. I try things. Some stay. Most don’t.

Because no matter how many tools I test, I return to a small group that feel like mine.

Some of the materials I return to — pencils with soft grain, colour that holds its shape, and paper that gives just enough texture.

Most days, it starts with pencil. Not just for sketching, but for tone — the feeling behind the image. There’s something about the softness and grain of graphite that helps me get closer to the atmosphere I’m after. I don’t reach for it because it’s safe. I reach for it because it’s flexible. Quiet. Familiar.

Sometimes I work with Prismacolor or Staedtler. Recently I’ve been using Luminance pencils for richer textures, or Faber-Castell Polychromos when I want something more precise. I like drawing on fine-grain paper with just enough texture — Hahnemühle, or Bristol sheets that can hold pigment without eating through it too quickly. Pencils behave differently depending on the surface. Some papers pull too much. Others bend under pressure. I'm still learning what suits what.

Most of my process is trial and error. I’m self-taught, and I tend to work by instinct — testing a few materials at a time, keeping the ones that match the tone I’m trying to draw into being.

A recent illustration using pencil and color pencil — the kind of scene I often build with texture and layered tones.

Lately I’ve been working on a few larger pieces using mixed media paper, layering graphite and colour pencil with subtle digital finishing. Even something as small as adding trees to a winter scene means searching for the right shade — not a bright apple green, but something quieter. A vintage olive, a mossy tone, something that sits inside the palette I tend to return to. The kind of green that feels like it belongs.

What I’ve learned is that the right tool isn’t always the fanciest or newest. It’s the one that lets you forget it’s there. The one that doesn’t get in the way of the image. A lot of my work is about mood, memory, detail. The materials I use — when they’re right — support the image and help build the world I’m trying to draw into place.

If you’re curious about how this all shows up in the work itself, I’ve written about sketchbooks, vintage-inspired scenes, and the way certain greens find their way into a landscape. It’s all part of the same quiet process — one mark at a time.