Early in my career as a graphic designer, I learned a lesson that has stayed with me ever since.
Keep removing things from a design until all that's left is what absolutely has to be there.
Every line, every shape, every color should earn its place. If removing something doesn't weaken the idea, it probably didn't belong there in the first place.
That philosophy is especially important in logo design. A logo has to communicate instantly, work at any size, and remain memorable. Simplicity isn't just a style—it's essential.
When I eventually became an illustrator, I gained much more freedom. I could create atmosphere, dramatic skies, textures, and rich backgrounds.
But I never stopped thinking like a designer.
That probably explains why my illustrations look the way they do.
Every project begins with a simple question:
Is it the quiet solitude of a place? The majesty of a landscape? The nostalgia of a childhood memory? The humor and personality of an animal?
Once I know the answer, the editing begins.
Take my Joshua Tree National Park poster.
I could have filled it with rocky desert landscapes, colorful skies, and every detail that makes the park spectacular. Instead, I distilled it down to a lone Joshua Tree, a jackrabbit, distant clouds, and bold typography.
Those few elements tell the story.
Now look at my Golden Gate Bridge poster.
There's actually quite a bit happening in the composition, but every element has a purpose. The bridge is simplified to its most recognizable forms. The famous fog becomes a series of circles. The surrounding hills are reduced to bold graphic shapes, while a small airliner heading toward the Pacific and radiating sunbeams reinforce the spirit of travel and adventure.
It's a more elaborate illustration than Joshua Tree, yet it's built on exactly the same principle. Every element has a job to do.
The same philosophy carries over into my Creatures of Character collection.
Take the Armadillo.
The illustration itself is intentionally simple—bold outlines, flat colors, and uncomplicated shapes. But paired with western-inspired typography and a playful headline, the entire poster takes on a personality of its own.
I'm not convinced that same feeling would exist if the armadillo had been rendered with photographic realism. The poster is meant to give the viewer a little wink. It doesn't take itself too seriously. By reducing the illustration to its essential forms, the humor becomes even stronger.
Looking back, I realize I never stopped being a graphic designer.
I simply found a different canvas.
Every illustration still begins with the same question:
Once I know the answer, I begin refining the work. Shapes disappear. Colors are reduced. Details are stripped away until everything that's left supports the idea I'm trying to communicate.
That's what The Art of Leaving Things Out means to me.
It isn't about drawing less.
It's about saying more with less.
I'm a Texas-based illustrator and designer creating vintage-inspired poster art that blends strong graphic design with storytelling. My work ranges from wildlife and travel posters to aviation art, all created to bring a little character to modern walls.
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