Julie Hill See that car doing donuts in the parking lot over there? That's JULIE HILL.
No. Over there, standing atop the snow bank, re-tracing the tread patterns with her eyes, the trained intensity of a Snowy Egret blanketing her face.
"A damask toile? The blistered topography of a pickled beet? Wait, no. It's more austere than that. Yes! A pair of swollen bal…loons."
Searching for simplicity, whether in the fluid lines of a sketch or the seemingly complex bouquet of brie, she collects crumbs of inspiration at every turn, every encounter to birth art – illustrative, digital, tangible – that radiates charm and intrigue.
Like the silhouette and skeleton of a yellow Eames side shell chair, her work exudes contentment, her own grand aspiration, rooted in keen intuition and creative exploration.
But if, by chance or fate, you happen upon said beacon, brace yourself for a battle, baby. This bird isn't afraid to fight for what she wants.
