The Author and the Artist
ABOUT TYLER
I've been drawing for as long as I can remember.
What began in kindergarten as sketches of monsters and creatures (thanks to Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials) quickly became something more. Many of my earliest drawings were inspired by recurring nightmares, an attempt to understand the things that frightened me by putting them on paper, which was a practice that I learned from my mom. Putting things on paper binds them, which worked and made for good practice.
At seven years old, three things happened that would shape much of my creative life. I experienced the first of many recurring dreams involving a mysterious figure in a wide-brimmed hat, I was gifted Jeff Rovin's Encyclopedia of Monsters, and I received my first comic book: Daredevil #270. The combination of those experiences expanded my interests beyond drawing alone and into storytelling.
As I grew older, I became fascinated by dreams, mythology, and the strange imagery they produced. In middle school, I began keeping a journal beside my bed and recorded every nightmare I had. Decades later, I still have those notebooks and still write use them to this day.
Many of the creatures, themes, symbols, and questions that appear throughout my work can be traced back to those pages.
What fascinated me most wasn't simply the artwork. It was the realization that every character had a history, a purpose, and a world that existed beyond the page. The stories surrounding those characters felt just as important as the characters themselves. That fascination never left.
Over the years, character design naturally evolved into worldbuilding. Every hero needed an origin, every villain needed a motivation, every story required a supporting cast, a setting, and a reason to exist. What began as individual drawings gradually became interconnected worlds. Tabletop roleplaying games such as Dungeons & Dragons provided the biggest outlet for that process, allowing characters and stories to grow through collaboration, improvisation, and shared storytelling.
Today my work spans illustration, writing, design, branding, mythology, and visual storytelling, but the goal remains the same as it was when I first picked up a pencil:
To explore ideas, ask questions, and tell stories that are worth remembering.
THE PROCESS
Observation
Every project begins with research.
Sometimes that research takes the form of mythology, history, architecture, or cultural traditions. Other times it comes from personal experiences, dreams, conversations, or questions that refuse to leave me alone. The goal isn't accuracy for its own sake; it's finding the details that make an idea feel believable.
Even when creating fantasy or science fiction, I believe every world, character, and concept should have rules that govern it. Those rules don't always need to appear on the page, but they need to exist. Understanding how something works helps create confidence in the work and allows the audience to believe in it, even when the idea itself is impossible. Throughout the creative process, I rely heavily on questions and feedback. Some of the strongest ideas I've developed emerged from conversations that challenged my assumptions or exposed weaknesses in a concept. If I can't answer a question about a character, world, or design choice, that's usually a sign that more work needs to be done. The most interesting discoveries often happen when a question exposes a flaw in something I thought I understood.
For me, research isn't simply gathering information. It's the process of building a foundation strong enough to support the story, design, or idea that follows.
Exploration
Early concepts are often rough and experimental.
This stage is less about creating finished artwork and more about discovering possibilities. Multiple directions are explored before committing to a final design.
Some of the strongest ideas emerge from discarded sketches and unexpected mistakes.
Refinement
Once a direction has been established, attention shifts toward clarity, composition, and communication. Whether designing a logo, a character, or a fictional world, the objective remains the same: every element should serve the larger idea.
Having worked on freelance projects for decades, I've learned that refinement can take days, months, or sometimes years depending on the scope of the project and what it is ultimately trying to achieve. This stage is often less about creating new ideas and more about evaluating existing ones.
This is also the stage where I determine whether an idea has enough substance to survive. Some concepts become stronger under scrutiny. Others fall apart the moment difficult questions are asked. Learning the difference has become one of the most valuable parts of the creative process.
Execution
The final stage focuses on craftsmanship. Line quality, composition, typography, presentation, and consistency all contribute to the finished piece. By this stage the goal is no longer discovery. The goal is communication.
"Putting things on paper binds them..."
INFLUENCES
Every artist is the sum of countless influences, experiences, and stories. Some arrive through books, others through comics, mythology, film, music, or personal experiences. While my interests have evolved over the years, the common thread has always been a fascination with storytelling and the ways stories can shape how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Literature
Some of my greatest influences are authors whose work taught me that description is not about slowing a story down—it's about helping the reader see what you see.
Writers such as Arthur C. Clarke and Ray Bradbury had an extraordinary ability to paint vivid images with remarkably few words. Their descriptions never felt excessive or indulgent. Every sentence served the larger narrative, creating a clear picture while continuing to move the story forward.
That philosophy has influenced my own writing. Rather than describing every detail of a scene, I prefer to focus on the details that matter most and trust the reader to meet me halfway. The goal is not to overwhelm the imagination but to ignite it.
R.A. Salvatore had a different impact on me. His work demonstrated how action, character, and long-form storytelling could exist in perfect balance. His fight scenes remain some of the most fluid and cinematic writing I have ever encountered, allowing the reader to visualize movement and emotion simultaneously.
What impressed me most, however, was his ability to plant seemingly insignificant details that would not pay off until books later. The Hunter's Blade Trilogy remains one of my favorite examples of long-form storytelling. Watching Obould evolve from a perceived villain into one of the most compelling characters in the series fundamentally changed the way I thought about antagonists, character arcs, and narrative payoff.
Ann Nocenti's run on Daredevil had perhaps the single greatest influence on my own writing style. Her stories explored morality, faith, identity, and consequence through deeply flawed characters navigating situations without easy answers. She demonstrated that a superhero story could be philosophical, emotional, surreal, and deeply human all at the same time.
Comics
Comics taught me how to tell stories visually. A single panel can communicate character, mood, setting, action, and emotion simultaneously. Learning how artists controlled composition, lighting, perspective, and pacing fundamentally shaped the way I approach visual storytelling. Comics also introduced me to some of the most compelling character studies I've encountered.
Daredevil's constant struggle between faith and responsibility.
Moon Knight's fractured identity and search for self.
Magneto's transformation from victim to persecutor.
The Sentry's battle against his own darkness.
Nightwing's evolution from sidekick to independent hero.
Jonah Hex's unwavering consistency in the face of tragedy.
Conan's embodiment of personal freedom, survival, and self-determination.
What fascinated me most was not their powers but their flaws. The best characters are rarely defined by what makes them exceptional. They are defined by what they struggle to overcome. Comics also taught me technical lessons that continue to influence my artwork today. How shadows direct attention. How composition controls the eye. How a silhouette can communicate more effectively than excessive detail. How a single image can tell an entire story.
Mythology
Mythology has influenced nearly every aspect of my creative life.
I view mythology as humanity's original shared universe. Long before modern superheroes, myths provided larger-than-life heroes, tragic villains, impossible monsters, epic conflicts, and enduring moral questions.
What fascinates me most is how many of those questions remain unchanged across cultures separated by vast distances and thousands of years.
Why do we suffer?
What survives after death?
Can people change?
What do we owe one another?
Whether examining Egyptian, Chinese, Greek, Celtic, or Norse traditions, the same fundamental questions appear again and again. The details change but the questions remain. That universality is part of what makes mythology so powerful. These stories have endured because they continue to speak to experiences that are fundamentally human.
Atomic Monsters
My love of monsters began with my dad. From a young age, he introduced me to the science-fiction and atomic-monster films he had grown up watching—movies that often took their time, allowing the mystery and tension to build before finally revealing the creature at the center of the story. They were not simply monster movies; they were character-driven stories about ordinary people confronting something impossible.
That balance between patient storytelling and unforgettable creature design had a lasting effect on me. It shaped the way I approach suspense, transformation, and the gradual unveiling of the unnatural in my own work. The strange silhouettes, exaggerated anatomy, and practical ingenuity of those creatures also became an early influence on my drawing. My fascination with designing monsters—and with making them feel like part of a larger story rather than spectacle alone—can be traced directly back to those films and to the time I spent watching them with my dad.
Design
Good design communicates before a single word is read.
Whether creating a logo, book cover, symbol, illustration, or website, I believe every visual element should contribute to a larger idea. Design is not decoration. It is communication. The strongest designs tell the viewer what they need to know before they consciously realize they've been told.
A silhouette can establish character.
A color palette can establish mood.
A symbol can imply history.
A composition can direct attention.
When done effectively, a single image should communicate far more than its individual parts. Every line, shape, and decision should support the message being conveyed. My goal is always the same: to create images that tell a story before the first sentence is ever read.
Gallery
ILLUSTRATION
CHARACTERS
CREATURES
FANTASY/SCIENCE FICTION
HORROR
LOGOS
SKETCHBOOK
These pages come from sketchbooks spanning thirty plus years. Some are rough, some are unfinished concepts and many were never intended to be seen by anyone else. Together they document the evolution of ideas, interests, and themes that continue to appear in my work today.
Hostile Takeover (c. 2024)
An anthropomorphic satire inspired by insect behavior. The piece imagines a corporate office overrun by aggressive carpenter ants confronting a colony of honey bees. Though humorous on the surface, the drawing explores territorial behavior, social hierarchy, and the uneasy parallels between insect colonies and human organizations.
What began as a joke about ants became an experiment in visual storytelling through character interaction and environmental design.
Untitled Lighthouse Sketch (c. 2012)
An atmospheric illustration exploring isolation, transformation, and the relationship between landscape and character. Long before I began writing The Everworse, many of the themes that would later appear in my stories—water, light, dreams, and figures caught between worlds—were already appearing in my sketchbooks.
This design will probably be revisited on another project in development.
I Am War (c. 2000)
Part character design, part visual poem inspired by the words from Dimmu Borgir, this piece explores duality through reflection. The figure stands between beauty and mortality while a fragmented verse surrounds her. The mirror reveals a hidden truth, suggesting that identity is often shaped as much by what we conceal as by what we reveal.
The work reflects an early fascination with mythology, symbolism, and the personification of abstract ideas.
Homogenized Only (c. 2001)
A tongue-in-cheek illustration combining horror, fantasy, science fiction, and heavy metal influences into a single absurd scene. A cybernetic bartender serves drinks while a heavily armed patron waits at the counter, surrounded by references to music, gaming, and pop culture.
The drawing reflects my long-standing interest in blending genres and filling environments with hidden details and visual jokes. Also showcases my love for westerns and sci-fi.
Dragonfly Concepts & Emblems (c. 2003)
A collection of exploratory creature and symbol designs inspired by dragonflies, flowers, tribal motifs, and fantasy iconography. These sketches represent an early interest in creating visual languages rather than individual characters.
Many later creature designs and worldbuilding concepts grew out of experiments like these.
King of the Dead (c. 2003)
A fantasy illustration depicting the infamous Lord Soth standing from his throne constructed from skulls and relics of conquest to smite the invading intruders. The piece combines (anti)heroic fantasy with horror imagery, exploring themes of power, sacrifice, and the cost of victory.
Even in my early work, I was drawn to characters whose triumphs carried visible consequences.
A Most Unfortunate Investment (c. 2022)
Inspired by classic animation and satire, this piece imagines Scrooge McDuck, the greatest adventurer of his time, being confronted with the all-powerful Bill Cipher. Scrooge is left with a choice to confront this as a businessman caught in a questionable transaction, or as the swashbuckling hero of Duckberg. Blending familiar cartoon influences with darker themes, the drawing examines greed, temptation, and the absurdity of wealth accumulation.
It reflects my love of mixing childhood iconography with more mature storytelling concepts as well as taking ideas from my children and putting them to paper.
The Hound of Chains (c. 2004)
Part monster design, part character study, this creature was created as an exercise in texture, anatomy, and visual weight. Layers of armor, scars, chains, and organic growths combine to create a creature that feels ancient, dangerous, and exhausted.
Rather than depicting action, the piece focuses on presence—the idea that a monster can tell a story simply by existing.
Last Stand (c. 2004)
A classic fantasy confrontation between an orc warrior and dragon. The composition focuses on scale, using the dragon's massive form to emphasize the vulnerability of the lone fighter below.
The image reflects my lifelong fascination with mythic storytelling and the enduring appeal of impossible odds.
Good, Evil, and the Pain Caused by Their Eternal Conflict (c. 1998)
A symbolic design exploring the tension between opposing forces. By introducing a third element—pain—the piece challenges the idea that good and evil exist as simple opposites. Instead, it suggests that conflict itself leaves lasting consequences.
Many years later, similar themes would reappear in my writing, where order and chaos are rarely as simple as heroes and villains. You cannot have one without the other. There must be a balance.
Twin Dragons (c. 1999)
A symmetrical fantasy design centered around opposing dragon spirits joined through a shared root system. Though created years before The Everworse, the piece explores concepts that would later become central to my writing: duality, interconnected destinies, and the idea that opposing forces often share a common origin.
The image was conceived as both a creature design, possible tattoo, and a symbolic emblem, emphasizing balance rather than conflict.
Infernal Sigil (c. 1999)
An exercise in symbolic design inspired by fantasy iconography, tribal motifs, and heraldic emblems. The piece was created as an exploration of shape language and visual identity, using sharp geometry and flowing organic forms to create a mark that feels ancient and ritualistic.
Many of my later worldbuilding projects began with symbols like this before characters or stories existed.
Devil and Angel (c. 2003)
An early character piece depicting opposing archetypes locked in an uneasy alliance. Rather than presenting good and evil as enemies, the illustration explores the idea that opposing forces often define one another.
Looking back, this drawing contains the earliest visual seeds of concepts that would eventually evolve into important characters, and many of the themes explored throughout The Everworse.
Embrace (c. 2000)
A more personal interpretation of duality, depicting two opposing beings finding connection rather than conflict. The piece explores themes of redemption, identity, and acceptance through body language rather than action.
Many years later, similar ideas would become foundational to my storytelling—particularly the belief that understanding and compassion often possess more transformative power than violence.
Angel (c. 2000)
A character design combining celestial imagery with science fiction and action influences. Created during a period when I was experimenting heavily with character archetypes, the piece presents a figure who is simultaneously guardian, warrior, and outsider.
While originally conceived as a standalone illustration, aspects of the character's visual identity and personality would later influence other heroic figures in my work.
Wrath (c. 2000)
One of the earliest pieces in which I stopped drawing characters and began drawing ideas and without a doubt the most important piece in my collection.
Created during a period when I believed my future had been taken from me, Wrath became an outlet for fear, anger, and uncertainty. The drawing was never intended to represent a hero or villain. Instead, it embodied a state of mind—the feeling of being trapped inside a problem that appears to have no solution.
The exaggerated grin, eyes that see more than they are intended, and fiery hand were designed to create a sense of unstoppable force, but over time the meaning changed. What once felt like a monster came to represent something more familiar: the part of ourselves that emerges when hope begins to disappear.
Years later, many of the themes explored in The Everworse can be traced back to this drawing. It became the springboard for stories, artwork, and characters that all stem from the same central question:
How do you keep moving forward when every path appears blocked?
Looking back, Wrath feels less like a character design and more like the first fragment of a story I would spend the next twenty-five years trying to tell. Not a story about one person's struggle, but about a struggle everyone eventually faces—the choice between carrying the weight alone or accepting the help waiting around them.
"For the person who convinced me there was another path forward."
MODERN SKETCH DESIGNS
CONTACT
Location
Everett, WA