Today we’d like to introduce you to Eric Sahlsten.
Hi Eric, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
My name is Eric Wolfe Sahlsten and I’m a freelance illustrator and graphic designer. I started drawing, mainly with pencils, when I was a kid. Early on, that mostly consisted of medieval knights and battle scenes, fighter jets, tanks, characters from Dragon Ball Z or Star Wars, and creatures from my imagination. I drew more Stormtroopers and renditions of Boba Fett than I can recall, and I still have a lot of drawings from my childhood.
I distinctly remember British illustrator Stephen Biesty’s “Cross-Sections Castle” book being a huge influence on my fledgling mind; there’s no telling how many hours I spent poring over its intricate illustrations and depictions of castle life. In hindsight, Biesty’s book is probably what I owe most of my love of sprawling, rich details to, and as a kid I owned just about single concept art book related to Star Wars, The Lord Of The Rings, Warhammer, or Warcraft. Brian Jacques’ Redwall novels were also an early obsession, with its colorful medieval world populated by heroic, sword-bearing mice and other woodland creatures.
In addition to drawing, Dungeons & Dragons was my introduction to miniatures, which quickly led to a fixation with Warhammer and Warhammer 40K, the British tabletop wargame. My friends and I adhered to the labyrinthine rulebook as best we could, with a healthy dose of “house rules,” but I was always more interested in the hobby aspect: painting the figurines and delving into the rich lore of those fictional universes. Warhammer’s grim and gothic aesthetic—as depicted by artists like Ian Miller, Adrian Smith, Karl Kopinski, Dave Gallagher, John Blanche, and John Wigley—probably informed my tastes more than anything else. Those images are forever burned into my brain, and it’s still some of my favorite artwork. I’m not sure how much of it explicitly carries over into my own art, but I owe my penchant for dark imagery to Warhammer.
I continued creating art for my own personal enjoyment well into high school. When I began college, I enrolled in the studio art program for one year, but quickly dropped out and switched majors. I think the whole experience was just overwhelming at the time; it was the first time I’d ever felt external pressure to perform in a creative sense, and it was the genesis of intense self-doubt that provided a potent internal roadblock then and has proved a formidable foe ever since. I abandoned any sort of creative practice altogether for several years and abandoned any thought of pursuing art beyond a hobby.
I worked at an advertising agency in the New Business department immediately after graduation, collating and editing business proposals, and it’s there I got my first real taste of the corporate world, which involved long hours spent doing monotonous work that left little room for creative expression. I once approached my boss with a mock-up for a custom cover design for a pitch deck, and he liked the idea. When I started describing it in further detail, he waved me off and said “Leave that to the creative department, they’ll handle it.” My involvement was over, and the creative team ended up taking an entirely different route. That was probably the first instance where I really felt the pang of mundanity and the deeper pull of a dormant creative calling. I wanted to be doing that kind of work, not handing it off to someone else. So, I started drawing again almost every night after work (and often at work early in the mornings). Creating on my own terms again, for no one but myself, provided a much-needed respite, and I think returning to art on my own terms and at my own pace was important.
I left that job after two years with the intention of going back to school to study graphic design. After one day back in that environment, I knew that school wasn’t for me, so I began job hunting—rather fruitlessly— for several months. In January 2016 I was hired for an entry-level position at a craft brewery called Motorworks Brewing in Bradenton, FL (I was living in St. Petersburg, FL at the time), that primarily involved social media coordination, but more importantly, promised the chance to start doing some basic design work. After about eight months I was given the opportunity to try my hand at designing a label for one of the brewery’s upcoming bottle releases. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and was essentially teaching myself Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop on the job, while also trying to learn everything I could about layout, typography, etc., but I managed the best I could. I must not have botched it too badly, because I started doing more and more labels after that.
By the third or fourth label, I began working primarily in pen and ink, and that was when I really began taking it seriously as a medium and learning everything I could about the technique. I could talk at length about the nuances of that process over the nearly four years I worked there, but all I’ll say is that without my time at Motorworks and the friends I made there, I have no idea where I’d be today. It was an intense crash course, but it was a crucial foundational period for the development of my skill in a medium that I still work in almost exclusively and the first opportunity I ever had to create art professionally. It was the only chance I needed. I relocated to Denver in the fall of 2019 and have been working as a freelance illustrator and designer ever since.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall, and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It has not been a smooth road by any means. I moved to Denver just before the pandemic hit, which meant a lot of budgets were summarily cut or evaporated altogether, and that certainly was an interesting time to become a freelance artist. In hindsight, I think it was probably a good learning experience and an early test of my commitment to the path I’ve chosen. As normalcy has returned, I’m starting to find my footing a bit more, but things still aren’t easy. I don’t think there will ever be anything “easy” about this line of work, and while I knew that going in, I’m not sure I had any real sense of just how difficult it would be.
It’s difficult, sure, but the work is enjoyable and personally rewarding, which is the great equalizer of sorts. Nietzsche wrote that “If we have our own why in life, we shall get along with almost any how.” The constant trial and error is just the price of admission as far as I’m concerned, and I’d rather struggle to find my own way, on my own terms, than struggle another minute in the service of someone else’s dreams, in someone else’s footsteps.
Aside from the immediate, more tangible obstacles like a global pandemic, the internal critic has probably been my greatest enemy thus far. As I mentioned earlier, the self-doubt that has hounded me since day one has never really gone away; that inner monologue that distracts and detracts is never silent for very long. Imposter syndrome is a potent force. The more artists I meet and have conversations with, the more apparent it becomes that this afflicts damn near every one of us. All I can do is keep a stiff upper lip, put my head down and try to create the best work I’m capable of making at any given moment, while constantly striving to improve my craft through study and practice.
There’s no easy-to-follow blueprint, and I’ve been rabidly consuming just about every video, book, and seminar from successful creatives that I can find over the past two years, as well as picking the brains of peers via Instagram or in real life (thank you for fielding my inane questions). Your education ends the day you decide it ends, and I consider myself a lifelong student. Sometimes that simply means looking stupid and being willing to fail (often). You just have to take it on the chin and start again, forever. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I use traditional techniques to create intricate pen-and-ink drawings inspired by nature, mythology, history, music, and literature. Some of my biggest influences are Old Masters like Albrecht Dürer and Gustave Doré, woodblock engravers like Barry Moser and Thomas Bewick, and contemporary artists like Richey Beckett, Sin Eater, Aaron Horkey, Thomas Hooper, and John Dyer Baizley.
Each piece begins as a pencil sketch delineating major forms and shapes so that I have a rough guide before I start inking. Using various brands of fineliners (mostly Micron pens) then meticulously ink the piece utilizing hatching, cross-hatching, or stippling (or a combination of the three) to build form and value. My work is very labor-intensive—and I seemingly have a compulsion to fill any and all negative space with as much detail as possible—so I tend to keep things on the smaller side. I rarely use larger than 9×12″ paper, and I typically work on smooth Bristol. My work is primarily monochromatic, with accents of metallic ink or the occasional bit of color that I add digitally after I’ve finished and scanned the illustration.
I’ve collaborated with breweries, heavy metal bands, and various brands, and have been commissioned by Revolver Magazine for a collector’s issue celebrating the 30th anniversary of Metallica’s Black Album, Filson, Kvelertak, Killer Be Killed, Demon Hunter, The Dalí Museum and more. It’s all been a bit surreal, and I’m forever grateful for the opportunities I’ve been entrusted with.
It’s hard to view your own work with an objective eye, but I hope that it stands out on its own merit. I’m self-taught, although that’s a bit of a misnomer as I’ve had many teachers, whether they know it or not. But I don’t have an art degree, and I’m never going to have the most refined technique or composition. I just want to create honest art, from the heart, that resonates with the viewer in some way. Hopefully it makes some sort of impression or is memorable. I’m just creating the kinds of images that I want to see, and if at the very least it makes someone say “Damn, that’s cool!” then that’s alright by me.
What do you think about happiness?
Happiness has always been a fickle and fleeting thing to me, but I suppose it’s a sense of purpose, a sense of fulfillment, and the freedom to live life as I see fit.
I’m generally most content when I’m creating something and listening to good music. Good food and drink, shared with good company, isn’t a terrible thing either. Give me a million dollars tomorrow and I’d hop on the next plane out of here to explore, eat and drink my way around the globe, but I imagine I’d tire of even that sooner than I’d like to think. I’ll always need a “why” for the “how.”
Art helps me navigate that mystifying and often menacing terrain, like a lantern in the dark.
Contact Info:
- Email: ericwsahlsten@gmail.com
- Website: https://www.ericwsahlsten.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ericwsahlsten/
