We were lucky to catch up with Sylvia Yang recently and have shared our conversation below.
Sylvia, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happy as a creative professional? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to work for someone else?
This was a question I often found myself wondering in the months following my graduation. Now, I can say with certainty: Yes. In fact, I believe I can only truly be happy as an artist.
After graduating from the School of Visual Arts in New York, I left the city where I had spent my entire college life and moved to Toronto in June. While the cost of living was lower and I no longer had to worry about visa issues, I knew this also meant giving up the connections and potential opportunities I had built in New York. Last summer, I idealistically believed I could sustain myself as a full-time freelance illustrator. However, despite my family’s continuous support, reality soon set in. As Asian parents, they didn’t think pursuing art was entirely hopeless, but they firmly believed I shouldn’t go “all in” on something so uncertain. Creating art was fine, but having a stable job was just as important—ideally, the more stable, the better.
At the time, I felt lost. After much internal struggle, I compromised and started applying to art studios, hoping to earn some income through teaching. But reality often falls short of expectations. While my portfolio and background helped me secure multiple offers, the pay was far lower than I had anticipated, and the working hours were minimal. To make ends meet, I had to juggle two or three jobs at the same time. For months, I worked nearly every day, doing things I neither enjoyed nor had experience in, while also navigating relationships with parents, students, and studio owners. It was exhausting. Even worse, these jobs drained me of the energy to create the artwork I was truly passionate about.
I kept telling myself that at least I had a somewhat stable income—after all, freelance commissions weren’t always consistent. Eventually, I moved between different studios and settled at one where I could take on both teaching and a marketing role. However, the pay for the marketing job was even lower, and it required me to spend long hours in an office. To make things worse, the toxic work environment suffocated me. I started losing my sense of self and began questioning whether I would ever become the artist I had once envisioned.
Fortunately, despite having less time for personal work, I never missed an opportunity to promote myself. Whether it was conventions, local markets, or any art-related events, I was there, selling my prints and merchandise. Of course, participating in these events was always a risk—it wasn’t free, and I was nervous at first, fearing that no one would be interested in my work. But to my surprise, every event was a success. In fact, the income from a single convention often exceeded what I earned in an entire month of teaching or working in operations.
That’s when it hit me: the recognition I failed to receive in school and the appreciation I never found in teaching jobs—I finally found them when I put my work directly in front of an audience.
Less than a year after graduation, I have already come to understand the rules of the real world. Maybe I haven’t stopped dreaming, but at the very least, I now know exactly what I want. I used to think that having a stable job and a structured life would bring me peace—that it would ease my anxieties and prevent me from falling behind my peers. But the truth is, I don’t care whether I’m a good teacher or good at marketing jobs. My greatest joy comes from seeing people who genuinely love my work. Their support makes me feel like my art has value.
After figuring it out, I quit my marketing job and reduced my teaching hours to dedicate more time to my art career. Because only by doing so can I actually be happy. If I had blindly followed conventional advice and never taken risks, I might never have discovered that there are people out there who want me to keep creating.
I remember my thesis professor, Lisk Feng, telling our class during senior year: “80% of you may stop making art after graduation, so cherish the time you have to create now.”And she was right—many of my peers eventually chose different paths. It is precisely because of this that I want to keep creating while I still love it—until the day I no longer want to, or can no longer do so.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
About Me & My Journey in Art
As a child, my parents enrolled me in various extracurricular activities, hoping I would develop a well-rounded skill set. I tried Peking opera, piano, vocal lessons, roller skating, and dance—yet, without exception, I gave up on all of them. My family often joked that I had a “three-minute passion” for everything and couldn’t stick with anything for long.
The only exception was drawing. It was the one activity I received the least professional training in, yet it was the one I stuck with the longest. Once I realized this, I knew that this might just be the path I was meant to take.
I chose to study at the School of Visual Arts (SVA) in New York because it has one of the best illustration programs in North America. My decision to pursue illustration was also influenced by my mother, who worked in publishing and education. Growing up, our home had a huge bookshelf filled with picture books, and this shaped my earliest impression of illustration. That’s why, even after my artistic style matured, my works remained vibrant and colorful—much like living in a giant bubble—rather than being monochrome or heavily shaded.
My Artistic Style & Creative Philosophy
Throughout college, I continuously explored and refined my artistic style. In my senior year, I was inspired by Risograph printing, which influenced how I approached color and composition. Under the guidance of my thesis professor, Lisk Feng, I discovered a style that truly resonated with me—using Risograph-style color separation to limit my palette, making my colors both highly saturated and visually harmonious.
During my time at SVA, I also experimented with various artistic mediums, including ceramics, silkscreen printing, and silver jewelry making. Among them, ceramics became my favorite—I love the process of transforming a lump of clay into a unique, tangible, and lovable piece of art with my own hands.
My work blends delicate emotional expression with imaginative storytelling, blurring the boundaries between reality and dreams. I use colors, composition, and intricate details to tell stories, ensuring that each piece conveys a distinct emotion or atmosphere. I want it to become something that can make people feel joy, warmth, or even a fleeting sense of healing.
From Illustration to the Art Market—My Experience
As an artist actively participating in art markets and conventions, I’ve observed that technical skill alone isn’t enough to make an illustrator stand out. Many highly skilled and accomplished illustrators struggle to gain traction at markets simply because they haven’t figured out the best way to showcase their work or diversify their product offerings. Conversely, artists with a unified art style, well-designed products, and strong marketing skills tend to be far more successful, even if their illustrations are relatively simple.
Based on these insights, I expanded my creative output beyond illustrations. I now actively develop stationery products (such as stickers and keychains) and collaborate with brands to create products like postcards, phone cases, and puzzles. I believe this is one of my key strengths-compared to traditional illustrators, I am more experienced in product development, and compared to other art market vendors, I have a highly distinctive and recognizable style.
What I Am Most Proud Of
For me, the greatest achievement isn’t just selling my work, but knowing that it has become a meaningful part of people’s lives. I frequently meet returning customers at art markets, and some bring pencil cases or phone cases decorated with my stickers, telling me they love my art so much that they want to see it every day.
At one convention, a customer shared that she had one of my prints hanging in her room, and every time she looked at it, it brought her warmth and happiness. Moments like these remind me that art isn’t just about commercialization; it’s about human connection.
My work is more than just a visual experience but also an emotional expression. I want my art to tell stories, create a sense of connection, and offer even the smallest moments of comfort or joy.
What You Can Expect From Me
If you’re new to my work, here’s what you should know:
Most of my work is digitally created, but I am always open to exploring different artistic mediums. I particularly love Risograph printing and ceramics, which are my two favorite forms of expression besides illustration.
I am not just an illustrator but also a product designer. I specialize in transforming my art into physical products, always experimenting with new creative possibilities.
I love interacting with my audience. Whether through in-person art markets or online communities, engaging with people who appreciate my work is incredibly important to me.
Final Thoughts
For me, being an artist is not just a career choice—it’s a way of life. I want to create as much as I can while I still love doing it, and let my work become a small part of the world. Whether for children or adults struggling with real-world challenges, I hope my art can bring a little magic that gives people a reason to smile.
Any insights you can share with us about how you built up your social media presence?
Building your own audience is a process that requires persistence, a strong sense of self, and confidence in your work. In the beginning, I primarily shared my artwork on a Chinese platform called RedNote. At the time, I was still in school, so I wasn’t focused on growing my following, just simply wanted to share my work and connect with people who resonated with my art.
However, after graduating, I realized that gaining an audience required more than just posting artwork. Engagement was just as important—I needed to interact with my followers and share insights into my creative process. On RedNote, my audience grew significantly after my graduation project went viral, bringing in a large number of followers. On Instagram, however, my growth relied more on offline art markets, where I could promote my work in person and introduce it to a new audience.
The best advice I can offer is to stay consistent, and regularly update to show your audience that you are active and continuously creating. Maintaining a cohesive portfolio on your profile, whether in terms of color, style, or theme, helps attract the right audience who truly appreciate your work. Additionally, leveraging in person events can boost your exposure and help convert online followers into real-life supporters, and vice versa.
Most importantly, be patient. Don’t get discouraged by the number of likes or views on a single post—these don’t determine the quality of your art at all. Trust the process, wait for the right people to discover your work, and keep creating, sharing, and connecting with those who genuinely appreciate what you do.
Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?
I wish I had started participating in art markets while I was still in college to gain experience early on and connect with illustrators who regularly attended these events. Building a network within the artist community would have allowed me to exchange ideas and learn from those with more experience. If I had the chance, I would have also joined local artists’ Discord groups, where people often share upcoming conventions and application deadlines. This would have helped me stay informed and avoid missing opportunities—especially since many major events require applications a year in advance.
When it came to product manufacturing, I also made a lot of mistakes. Early on, I worked with some factories that charged high prices but delivered poor quality, and because I didn’t do enough research, the final products often didn’t meet my expectations. It was only after testing multiple manufacturers and consulting fellow artists that I learned which suppliers to trust and what types of products perform well in the market.
Lastly, I should have started building my professional social media presence much earlier. I only created and began sharing my work online in my junior year, which was relatively late compared to many of my peers. If I had focused on branding sooner,and establishing a cohesive style and maintaining an active presence, I would have felt much more prepared and confident after graduation instead of struggling to figure things out on the fly.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://picnicball.myportfolio.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/picn1cball_?igsh=MWRtcmd6amVteDNrYg%3D%3D&utm_source=qr
