Yuko Shimizu depicts intimate narrative scenes from myth, science fiction, and pop iconography, creating a visual genre all her own.
Yuko Shimizu is a New York-based illustrator, whose bold manga lines depict intimate narrative scenes from myth, science fiction, and pop iconography, creating a visual genre all her own. “People look at my work, and assume I read a lot of manga, but probably the last manga I bought and read (and still think it’s a masterpiece) was Akira.” Shimizu says in an interview.
Her work has been in public circulation for the 15-years, so if it seems familiar, chances are you’ve seen her T-shirt designs on a Gap-store mannequin, Pepsi can, or in an Apple, NIKE, Target advertisement. Her work has been featured in the New York Times, The New Yorker, and DC Comics among other publications.
A recent work in 2020, as a part of The Unity Project (an initiative taken by the Norman Rockwell Museum to inspire American voters), depicts a woman, striking an action pose, togaed in an American Flag, wearing the crown from the Statue of Liberty. On her right forearm a tattoo of an eagle with AMERICA tattooed where MOM would be, points to the figures flaming fist, reaching for the viewer. The yellow background pulls a punch of color along with the other primary colors dominating the scene. The sublime iconography adds to the splendor of the impact of the message behind every image easter-egged throughout the poster.
“(Growing up), I drew copying manga and anime, and for a long time (till I realized I really have no desire to create my own stories) I wanted to be a manga artist. I loved Moto Hagio, Leiji Matsumoto, and Akimi Yoshida. Currently, I really like art in completely different fields from my own. I’m in love and inspired by the Hong Kong films of Wong Kar-Wai, and early works by John Woo, fashion designs and visions by Jean Paul Gaultier, novels by Haruki Murakami, and Eka Kurniawan. They take me journeys I didn’t know I wanted to start.”
The viewer of Shimizu’s illustrations is often hurdled into the visual journey and logic of her illustrations. Be-it space, myth, or surreal fantasia, characters interact with their environments antagonistically or ambivalently. Fluidity of hair and the movement of matter, light, and sound are stylistic staples stitching her work together. Hair tendrils, mops, and swirls. Energy whip around characters like myth and tradition. Waterfalls crash onto a bubbled city. Shimizu says she started drawing water and snow in graduate school, because they were less intimidating than drawing a whole environment. But water takes on another meaning for Shimizu. “I have a severe hydrophobia, and I don’t go into the water that is deeper than my chest. I never learned how to swim, and I have no intentions of doing it.” This fear becomes fascination when incorporating water, snow, and fluid movements into the environments of the characters she draws.
I clearly remember thinking, ‘girls, being a bride is not an occupation.’ So, I said, I am going to be a painter.”
How a character takes up space is at the forethought of how Shimizu approaches an image. Sometimes there is the need for a dynamic point of view to generate tension between the subject of the print, poster, or comic book cover. Other projects call for less tension, less drama like her cover for Little Nemo Dream Another Dream. A boy, wearing pinstripe pajamas, wakes up under water to a mushroom forest growing around his bed, and to other versions of myself swimming under the tall mushroomed canopy. Here Shimizu’s work bends to the fairytale aura surrounding the project, giving this scene the same texture as a woodcut print, letting the eyes bounce around the multiple focal points.
“I started drawing according to my mother, (I don’t recall this myself) at the age two. I drew a circle and a line on the edge of a newspaper with crayon and said, “Mom. I drew a balloon.” Of course, I don’t remember this. My earliest memory I have about art and art making was in kindergarten when my teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. I am talking about maybe early 1970s Japan. Most of my girl classmates answered, ‘pretty brides.’ Maybe there were some who wanted to be teachers or nurses. I clearly remember thinking, ‘girls, being a bride is not an occupation.’ So, I said, I am going to be a painter. It’s crazy to think I was not only an artist from an early age, but also a feminist!”
Some artists, especially those who are starting out, feel we should just say yes to everything and just do it. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Shimizu’s path to becoming an artist wasn’t a linear one. She went to college, got a full-time job, and didn’t revisit artmaking until she was in her 30’s as a graduate student within an art program. It wasn’t until her 40’s that she became an artist full time with a mile-long client list. She says, “As an illustrator, I illustrate based on the projects that come my way. People assume I love Japanese culture themed art. I mean, I do enjoy making them for sure, but it is more that I am a to-go person when there are Japanese themed projects that call for illustration. Projects come from clients around the world, but I am based in New York, started in the US market, so maybe 50% is American clients, 40+ % non US around the world, but Japanese clients are less than 5%, if any. I understand western logic and common sense and understand the communication structure.”
With freelancing comes the freedom of declining projects that don’t speak to her. “If you say yes to everything,” Shimizu says, “it may dilute the quality of your art, may lead to burn out, as well as the type of artwork you will be known for. We must make very conscious decisions. Some artists, especially those who are starting out, feel we should just say yes to everything and just do it. It doesn’t have to be that way.”*
This article originally appeared in Hi-Fructose Issue 59 as a Special Insert Section. It is sold out. Support what we do here and get our latest issue by subscribing to Hi-Fructose here.
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