We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Elias Hereña. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Elias below.

Hi Elias, thanks for joining us today. Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

I got into illustration in a similar way to many of my peers—drawing anime fan art as a teenager and posting it on DeviantArt for my 3 dedicated followers. I started as a self-taught, fiercely independent kid, and I took pride in the fact that I was the only artist in my family of doctors and engineers. Although I was proud, sometimes to a fault, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was alone in this, that I had to learn to do it all by myself. I took a handful of art classes here and there throughout high school, but that feeling that something was missing didn’t go away. That is, until I took my first year of classes at the Savannah College of Art and Design.
Being surrounded by other artists felt like a dream come true. I had never been able to immerse myself in creativity like that before, and it felt like every second I was learning something new. Listening to my classmates and professors describe their creative process, being exposed to mediums of illustration I’d never even heard of, and having access to an entire library of textbooks and resources was absolutely mind-blowing to me after having spent my childhood imagining that I’d have to teach myself forever.
It took me a little while to be able to take down those prideful walls and learn how to take feedback, but it was the best decision I have ever made. Taking classes at SCAD forced me to rip my work down to the bare essentials and build it back up from scratch, and it was so much fun. I had never improved that quickly in my life, and I would never have been able to do it without the community of talented students and professors I met there.
If I had to go back in time knowing what I know now, I’d tell myself to find others like me, who feel like they’re doing this art stuff all alone. Find your community, get inspired by others’ work, and learn to give and take feedback. It is a truly humbling experience, and one that cannot be substituted. We creatives have to stick together, that’s how we do our best work.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I am an illustrator and concept artist. I especially enjoy making environment concept work, because I feel like it is a great opportunity to inject personality, atmosphere, and tone into a work. While characters in media are extremely important—the story couldn’t exist without them—the world they inhabit, and its design, is just as important. It’s my job to make sure that that world not only fits the feeling of the time period, genre, etc. of that story, but that it can convey as much narrative as possible.
I also enjoy injecting my work with my own personality and sense of humor. I don’t think you can make a good piece of art without a little bit of the artist peeking through, and I personally always enjoy seeing the voice of the creator in the work I consume.
My main goals with my work are to not only meet my clients’ visions, but to expand and explore the world they are trying to create. By working closely with them throughout the entire process, I strive to create something that not only answers their design problems, but helps to flesh out their world and generate new ideas.

How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?

One major pivot I’ve had to make recently has been affecting both my career and my life. That has been trying to work with my brain, rather than against it. Let me explain. Most of us have that little voice in our heads telling us when we need to work, how much work we have to get done, and for many of us, how the work we have done is not enough. Add in a little dash of executive dysfunction, and a creative job that I tie a little too tightly to my personality and self-esteem, and you’ve got my strange little brain.
During school, I pushed myself to my limit every day in order to keep up with assignments and maintain my grades. The pattern would go like this: I’d start the year out excited to learn new skills and make new art, and I’d be able to do my work enthusiastically every night. I’d make work that I was proud of and that I put a lot of thought into, and I’d be happy to take critique and work to improve each piece to the best of my ability. Then, after a few months of this, I would start to get overwhelmed. I felt like I had no time to get anything done, let alone any energy. I would make work that felt increasingly hollow and soulless, and I’d settle for the bare minimum to get my passing grade. I would struggle to defend my work at critiques, upset because I knew that I could do better, but not knowing why I didn’t. I’d ask myself, “Why can’t I make work that I’m proud of? Why can’t I just try harder?” I’d crawl my way to the end of the school year, spend the summer drawing absolutely nothing, and then rinse and repeat the next year.
Now, I saw absolutely nothing wrong with this process. I got straight A’s, I got my work done, and I had a portfolio that I was… reasonably proud of. Then, the summer after I graduated, I stopped drawing. I made a few pieces here and there, but even sitting at my desk to open my drawing program felt like running a marathon. At first, I felt like my world was ending. Had I spent all that time and money learning the wrong skill? Did I really have what it takes to become a professional illustrator? After a while, I realized that I had to make the decision to succeed myself. And the first step of that was not giving into that sense of despair.
I realized that if I wanted to do this as a job, I needed to make a few changes. For one, I lacked the structure that school gave me. No grades to motivate me to work, self-imposed and flexible deadlines, no scheduled Go Outside And Talk To People time, and no other creatives around me were all causing my burnout to get worse and worse. I had fed into that voice for too long, asking myself why I wasn’t working as hard as my peers, berating myself for not being able to make anything meaningful.
So I forced myself into a schedule. I took classes on the side that I knew I’d want to go to (Sword Fighting and Figure Drawing, highly recommend these activities to every person on the planet), and I planned around that. I refused to beat myself up for not spending “enough” time drawing every day, and instead celebrated the work I did do. I took time to learn why exactly I wasn’t able to work in the same way as my peers, and I leaned into the odd way my brain works instead. I asked my partner, who struggles with similar issues, to be my accountability buddy. Now I don’t work on a “traditional” schedule, but I do achieve my goals, and I make my deadlines. Sure, it takes me a hot minute to work up to getting in front of my drawing tablet, but it is so much easier for me this way, and I haven’t felt burnt out for months now.
All this to say, I’m definitely still figuring it all out. I still don’t have the answers, and I am still mid-pivot, but this has taken a tremendous load off my shoulders. I think it’s easy to get caught up in the capitalism-oriented mindset that work should be your number one priority at all times, and that you can never get enough work done, but it is so important that you learn how you work best, so that you can live happily and feel fulfilled by the work you do.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

My first instinct is to tell people to HIRE MORE ARTISTS!!! However, I recognize for the average layperson, that can be a little unrealistic. One of the first things I began to notice when I started learning art was just how much of this world is designed. I encourage people to take a second and notice how much of their environment was made by human hands. The billboard on your commute, the poster on your wall, yes. But there is so much more to it—the architecture of your favorite building in your city, a small strip of lawn in your neighborhood with a thriving garden, the coffee mug you reach for every morning- all of this has been created by a human person, with intention. The reality is, there would be no society without artists.
Now, at risk of sounding preachy, I would like to encourage people not to take that for granted. In the current economic climate, it’s difficult for anyone to get a job. But for creatives, it’s more difficult than ever. We face overworking, underpayment, union busting, and the dreaded rise of AI art. The average person can’t do much to challenge these things directly, but it is no excuse to stay silent and complacent. Support your local artists! And, if you have the means, I do encourage you to hire more artists. Not only will you get work with personality, real intention, and no weird digital AI artifacts, but you will be working towards building a more interconnected community, and supporting your fellow human being.

Now, to the executives out there: Stop Using AI. For the Love of God. It looks bad, it’s screwing people over, and it will inevitably go nowhere. Remember NFTs? Me neither. Let’s not do that again!

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.mosscola.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moss_cola/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/eherena/
• Twitter: https://x.com/moss_cola
• Other: Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/moss-cola.bsky.social

Image Credits
Elias Hereña