Inner Tug-of-War

Somewhere between one style and another, I’m discovering my own.

It’s been a wonderful two years, wild, magical, and deeply humbling. I’ve grown so much as an illustrator, and yet I often find myself staring at the page, feeling both full and scattered. It all began with a dream that seemed so out of reach: owning an iPad.

Where I come from, an iPad is a luxury. I used to watch artists create absolute magic on it and wonder if I’d ever get the chance. Until one day, I did. I was already a traditional painter, watercolor and oil had been my companions for years. But the digital world felt like a fresh page, and I dove in with hope, curiosity, and a little fear.

To be honest, I miss the smell of oils and the quiet joy of watching paint dry. (actually waiting impatiently for it to dry). There's something so grounding about holding a brush, letting the textures guide you. Just yesterday, I bought my first-ever gouache set. It’s been nearly a decade since I painted traditionally, and I know my hand will be a little clumsy but my heart is ready. I’m returning to the roots that shaped me.

Lately, I’ve paused my digital journey, not forever, just to breathe. To ask myself: What do I truly love about the way I create? Do I like my style? Do I want to continue drawing like the way I draw. These are important questions to ask oneself.

Here’s where it gets tangled. I feel like I’m constantly being pulled between two worlds. One part of me wants to create cozy, delicate scenes filled with storybook nostalgia, Vibrant yet soft palettes, full of warmth and another part of me aches for moodier tones, graphic shapes, or highly stylized characters. Both feel like me. And yet, when I try to merge them, it’s like trying to weave two different melodies into one song, they just don’t work!

And that’s the tug of war:
Between the familiar and the new.
Between the artist I’ve been and the one I’m becoming.
Between craving consistency and needing freedom.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m betraying my old self by exploring a new style. Sometimes, it feels like I’m stuck in a loop, mimicking artists I admire instead of discovering what’s truly mine. It's messy. It's confusing. And it's deeply, deeply human.

Some of the artists who make my heart flutter are Briony May Smith, Rebecca Green, and Emily Winfield Martin. If you’ve ever read Little Women or wandered into the world of Snow & Rose, you’ll know what I mean. Rebecca’s work makes me feel like I’ve come home. Emily’s illustrations hold a fairytale in every corner. And Briony, she’s Beatrix Potter reincarnated, I’m sure of it. Her work makes me want to run barefoot through the English countryside.

But in a world full of art that I adore, I sometimes feel like I’m standing still. I write stories that I love, truly love but I struggle to finish them. That old friend self-doubt keeps knocking. “Are you good enough?” it asks. “Can you really make this work?” It’s exhausting. And yet… here I am. Still showing up.

My style is evolving. I can feel it, like the shifting of the seasons. But with that comes confusion, the weight of responsibility, the very realness of life. I’m a dreamer—but I’m also a daughter, a friend, a person trying to figure it out. And that’s okay.

So if you, too, are in the middle of this tug-of-war, torn between colors, styles, and storytelling voices then know that you’re not alone. You’re not behind. You’re just evolving. Let your journey unfold slowly.
Let it be honest. Let it be yours.

With all the colors of my heart,
Laxmi