The Visual Sketch Artist field is a relatively small one.

I feel like I know, or at least have heard of, almost all of the major names in this field.

Probably not true, but the possibility that it could be true speaks a lot to the size of this relatively niche industry.

I used to spend a ton of time looking at the work of others and feeling a very specific feeling.

Jealousy (or Jelly, as the kids say).

It was easy to get jealous every time I saw a clean layout, perfect proportions, and a workshop board that just looked beautiful.

The Names That Made Me Jealous

Let me be specific, here are two examples of times I have been in awe and bit jealous:

​Rebecca Osborne’s live illustration work.

Rebecca’s boards had something mine felt like they were sometimes missing: containers.

Clean visual boundaries that held ideas together. In my mind, my work felt a bit disjointed by comparison. Hers held together like a well-designed poster.

​Nevada Lane’s graphic recording.

I actually sought Nevada out as a coach when I wanted to make this work professional. I knew I needed help figuring out how to get hired and land jobs.

She’s not only an excellent artist, she’s a generous coach and helpful guide.

Her work is clean, and so thoughtful.

Every element seemed to have its perfect place. The proportions were just right. The visual hierarchy made sense immediately.

At first, my ego said to me, “Wade, why can’t you do that?”

It is sometimes the easiest “voice” to hear. But as it turns out, your ego is always the first voice in the room.

I love reading Ryan Holiday’s books, and while I haven’t read Ego is the Enemy yet, I think I get the gist from the title.

That first voice, ego? It isn’t the true voice.

From Jelly to Joy

At some point I stopped staring at others’ work with envy, and started looking at it longingly.

That’s the shift.

Longing isn’t jealousy. It’s appreciation.

Jealousy was the teacher. Appreciation was the test.

Being jealous, meant focusing on what I couldn’t do. When I started appreciating, I became curious about what I could learn.

I stopped feeling the need to copy them. Instead, I found I wanted to keep getting better while celebrating what they brought to the craft.

Then I started thinking: What if I could actually be happy for them? Like, actually thrilled that someone else is pushing the craft forward?

There’s something liberating about celebrating excellence instead of resenting it.

What Changed

The more I looked at work that used to inspire envy, the more I realized I wasn’t actually mad. I was moved.

Clean lines don’t mean better ideas. But they do inspire me to sharpen my own.

Rebecca’s containers taught me about visual organization.

Nevada’s proportions showed me the power of thoughtful spacing. But I didn’t need to draw like them to draw well.

There’s more than one way to be excellent in this field.

My style is messier, more organic.

It captures energy and spontaneity in ways that perfectly clean layouts sometimes can’t. That’s not better or worse. It’s different.

Now when I see brilliant work by other visual practitioners, I feel something different.

Excitement. Curiosity. Sometimes even relief that someone else is solving problems I haven’t figured out yet.

This field (any field) gets better when everyone gets better. And everyone gets better when we celebrate excellence wherever we find it.

Let’s celebrate

Who have you been “jelly” of lately?

In your work, your creative pursuits, your industry?

What would it feel like to celebrate them instead?

Maybe that person doing what you wish you could do isn’t your competition. Maybe they’re your inspiration.

There’s room for all of us to be excellent in our own way.

Grateful you are here,

Wade