Since the origin of our species, humans have tried to make sense of chaos, to understand ourselves, and – at least until the divisiveness of social media – to understand each other. We have always relied on communication to do this. And thousands of years before we had written language, and possibly before even complex spoken language, we used pictures.
This makes sense: as children, we learn to read facial expressions, body language and images long before we learn to read words. We all grow up with an instinctive urge to make visual marks and tell stories. If constellations were humanity’s first attempt to understand the universe, then they were also our first illustrated stories. Humans are and have always been a story-driven species, and we tell these stories in myriad ways.
So, what is the story of illustration?
Harry Beck’s 1930s London underground map. Photograph: Reproduced with permission of Transport for London (TfL).
Before we answer that, we should first define what illustration is. As someone who has, for decades, been an illustrator, an artist, a storyteller – and several other titles, I may be reasonably placed to attempt an answer.
For many people, illustration is simply a set of pictures that accompany or clarify a text or idea. But that mindset overlooks the speed, agility, draftsmanship and tactile intelligence required to make an illustration work. It also ignores how effective it is as a communication tool.
Anyone who has ever referred to a safety card on an aeroplane, navigated an unfamiliar city using a subway map, or followed a visual guide to assemble flat-pack furniture understands the power of images to communicate quickly and clearly.
An American wartime propaganda poster, 1943. Photograph: US National Archives/Alamy
And this is before we even discuss the emotional weight and beauty of this art. Whoever coined the phrase “never judge a book by its cover” clearly doesn’t participate much in society – as we all judge covers, every day. Presentation matters.
As the art of illustration has advanced over the last several generations – often edging closer to its nearest bedfellow, fine art – and as technology and the rise of AI cast an uncertain mist over its future, perhaps now is the moment to reconsider the role of illustration in modern culture and what distinguishes “art” from “illustration”.
In illustration, the objective is usually to visually solve other people’s problems, whereas in art you invent your own problems and rarely solve them. In illustration, financial compensation is generally agreed before the mark-making begins and someone gives you approval – a thumbs up, so to speak; in art, you marinate perpetually in existential self-doubt. You make the work and then figure out how (or if) you’ll get paid.
Where they do not differ is in the visual success they have in making us feel something. Whether that something is simple comprehension, love, horror, deliberate confusion, disgust or joy is secondary to the reality – that they are generally marks made by people and intended to be viewed and interpreted by other people.
‘One city, Five Hours: Paris’ from a series of maps that Oliver Jeffers created for United Airlines inflight magazine, Hemisphere. Illustration: unknown/Oliver Jeffers
The idea of “art” as we know it today has also evolved dramatically over generations. Much of what we now classify as art was, in practice, closer to illustration when it was created. Think of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, or much Renaissance work, and how easily it fits the distinctions above. The concept of individual mark-making as a financially rewarding and celebrated expression of a single person is relatively new; the notion of art as an industry is only a century or two old.
In the end, perhaps one traditional distinction remains useful: art is often created to be encountered as a unique original, while illustration is frequently designed with reproduction in mind.
We have countless centres championing art throughout the world – museums and galleries, as they’re better known – and it is long overdue that the UK has a centre dedicated to championing illustration, how it has helped shaped our idea of our world, and the role it will assume in an unknown future. As a board member of the soon-to-open Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration, I’m proud to say that is exactly what is happening. And on the UK’s National Illustration Day, it’s worth pausing to think about the role illustration plays in our culture, and why it matters now more than ever.
A cartoon by Abu Abraham for the Observer, 29 March 1959, depicting a pastiche of the legend of the three wise monkeys who hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil with Mao Zedong, preventing Indian PM, Jawaharlal Nehru from taking action in support of Tibet. Illustration: Abu Abraham/The Observer
For many, “illustration” conjures nostalgia for children’s books. And yes, these are vital; they are often a child’s first encounter with their cultural world, and the physical archive of the powerful bond between parent and child. But illustration extends far beyond childhood. It has shaped the world we recognise: wartime propaganda, the branding boom of the 1950s, political satire, fashion, advertising. A lecturer once told me you can learn more about a decade from its adverts than from its articles. Illustration has always been the visual record of how we aspire to live, and what we hope to pass on.
Modern illustration was born of the Industrial Revolution and reached its full power in the age of mass production. And as industry changes, so does the illustrator’s role. AI now threatens to make creativity accessible to the wealthy while making wealth inaccessible to the creative. But is this really the future that awaits? I don’t fully believe so. I certainly don’t hope so.
Artistry worth celebrating … a 1962 advertisement designed by George Him. Photograph: The Estate of George Him
While the invention of cars did by and large eradicate the need for horseshoe makers, it also created a swathe of new jobs for mechanics. Illustrators will need to adapt, for sure, but photography did not replace painting. Video didn’t kill the radio star. The art of illustration will not be replaced by machines.
Just as the NFT bubble burst when people realised they don’t necessarily feel a human connection with something so … well … digital, we are already beginning to see a small but steady return to the handmade. Yes, AI means that a large portion of editorial and advertising visuals will be taken away from humans – temporarily anyway – and given to machines (creating huge opportunities for creative writers, however – the result is only as good as the prompt in AI). But we as a species will always have a need to visually clarify, connect and communicate on a human level and children’s books, album art, theatre posters, protest placards and the visual languages we build together all ultimately exist closer to the centre of the human experience than to the machine experience.
‘An Artist Rethinks Climate Change in Words and Pictures’ by Oliver Jeffers to illustrate his opinion essay in the New York Times, October 2024. Illustration: Oliver Jeffers
Maya Angelou was right: people seldom remember what you said, but they remember how you made them feel.
That, ultimately, is illustration’s power. And it’s why I am excited about the beginning of a national institution dedicated to visual literacy – especially in an age of misinformation – and about a permanent home where every facet of illustration can be explored, celebrated and understood. Sir Quentin Blake, the godfather of modern British illustration, envisioned the Centre for Illustration to recognise the artform as a vital part of British heritage and education. It couldn’t be more timely.
Oliver Jeffers is an artist and author. His latest book I’m Very Busy: A (Nearly Forgotten) Birthday Book is available at guardianbookshop.com. He is a trustee of the Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration, opening May 2026.