Pedro Correa Draws Emotion Before Technique

Transmission 307: Interview with Pedro Correa

Pedro Correa is an illustrator renowned for his emotionally charged style, which combines classical creative techniques with contemporary narratives. It is clear from his work that he possesses a background in fine arts, evidenced by a masterful command of light, mood, and atmosphere. Correa’s drawings capture fleeting moments with extraordinary sensitivity and dynamism.

His work possesses a cinematic quality; his images never feel immobile or static, but rather, they tell a story. His artwork seems to float between the visible and the imagined. Whether created for editorial illustrations, book covers, or personal projects, his pieces are distinguished by their subtle narrative depth and unique style. His art encourages calm reflection and remains consistently meaningful. Based in Brazil, Correa has gained international acclaim for his ability to capture emotion with both power and simplicity. In this interview, he discusses the mind behind the images, emotional landscapes, and the ever-changing balance between commercial demand and personal expression.

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Many artists began on their artistic paths after an event or particular motivation. Can you please share with us a moment or a particular illustrator that had a significant influence on your choice to become a professional illustrator?

I think my path to professional illustration is pretty standard: like all kids, I drew; I just never stopped. I enrolled in graphic design back in 2005 specifically because of my love for drawing, though it took years to understand that illustration could be a standalone career.

My professional journey truly began in 2014 when I made the leap to freelancing. Before that, I balanced design work with occasional commissions. I explored everything from editorial design to branding and animation before committing to illustration full-time. If there’s one influence I have to highlight, it’s the studio Bicicleta Sem Freio. They are incredibly talented, and it’s an honor to share the same home country with them.

In addition to having vivid colors and a distinct feeling of movement, your artwork frequently elicits a powerful emotional response. Has your unique artistic style evolved as a result of your heritage, especially its rich culture, varied landscapes, and street art?

It’s funny that you mention that—I’ve always considered my illustrations too static; for me, adding dynamism to them is quite a challenge. My artistic style comes primarily from the visual repertoire I built during my childhood, from the things I watched on TV and read in comic books.

Born in Brazil in 1984, I grew up in a pre-internet world. We were limited to what the TV networks offered. That ritualistic way of consuming media fostered a deep connection between kids and characters—a depth of relationship born out of scarcity that doesn’t really exist anymore. I spent my youth trying to recreate those images. I could weave a poetic narrative about being inspired by Brazilian landscapes and folklore, but it wouldn’t be true. My work is entirely a product of animation, Tokusatsu, and comics. My style is a reflection of when I grew up, rather than where.”

Your illustrations often combine the dreamy with the grounded. How do you navigate the interplay between fantasy and reality in your work?

I’ve had this illustration style for about eight years now. Looking back, I think it started as a form of escapism. I don’t consider myself good enough at representing reality, so I add surreal and dreamy elements as a way to compensate for that perceived flaw.

It’s as if I’m pulling the viewer’s focus away from the technical imperfections I see in my work and distracting them with something bizarre. Over time, this became ingrained in my way of thinking; the ‘weird’ became an essential part of my work, and apparently, it’s something that resonates with a lot of people.

Has your relationship with introspection changed through your career, and how does that show up in your artwork? Do you consider yourself more of a storyteller or an image-maker? Or are those roles inseparable for you?

In an era of social media overexposure, I’d say I’m quite introspective. On my social media, Pedro Corrêa barely exists; there are only my illustrations. In a way, I strive to let my work speak louder than my personal life.

I definitely consider myself an image-maker. Sometimes I see myself as a storyteller because certain elements are almost omnipresent in my work—like eyes, outer space, the deep sea, and planets—but I think those are more about providing me with a sense of comfort than what is actually happening.

Can you walk us through your creative process, from the seed of an idea to the final illustration? Are there any unconventional steps or personal rituals you incorporate to foster creativity?

Most of my commercial projects these days are digital, simply because it makes revisions so much easier. I take a pragmatic approach: I prioritize a deep dive into the brief because that’s the project’s most vital stage. Ideally, I dedicate the first third of my process to just thinking—visualizing solutions, doodling in my sketchbook, and doing research. Then, I put together a digital mood board in PureRef to streamline my references and ideas. Since I usually provide two or three sketches for each piece, that stage accounts for another third of my time; I love using Procreate on my iPad for this because it’s so agile. Once the client picks a sketch, I move to Photoshop for the final render, which usually includes two rounds of feedback.

The line between traditional and digital illustration is increasingly blurred. You blend these elements seamlessly. How do you navigate this in your own practice? Do you see them as distinct approaches or a continuous spectrum? How do you decide which one to prioritize for a specific project and what unique advantages each offers you?

In an ideal world, my process involves doing the linework by hand with ink, paper and screentones, then coloring it in Photoshop. But since that makes changes much harder to implement, I mostly stick to that for my personal work.

The traditional feel of my digital art is something I owe entirely to my four years doing Inktober. Drawing every day for a month with physical tools made me truly discover my style. I had become a bit lazy and stuck in my digital ways; going back to paper pushed me to experiment with new materials, especially screentones, and reconnected me with my love for comics.

To recreate that analog look digitally, I rely on True Grit textures. In fact, I’ve shared my techniques through a tutorial on their site and a Domestika course.

Illustration often involves interpreting someone else’s vision. You’ve collaborated with a variety of clients. How do you develop a visual language that addresses clients’ needs while maintaining the strength and integrity of your creative voice?

Early in your career, you’ll often get clients asking you to copy someone else’s style, forcing you to try out different ways of drawing. While that can feel frustrating, it actually helps you forge your own style in the long run. As soon as you find your own voice, the dynamic shifts: clients start seeking you out because they want your specific ‘look’ on their projects. You’re essentially lending your artistic identity to their product.

Could you share with us about a project where you had to significantly pivot or rethink your initial approach to a piece? What did you learn from that experience?

When something like this happens, it’s usually because of a major breakdown in communication between the client and the illustrator. 

I once had a project where the constant revisions went so far beyond our agreement that what should have taken a month ended up lasting over five. I nearly burned out. It was a turning point that led me to rethink how I work and eventually look for an agency to handle my representation globally.

What’s something people misunderstand about illustration as a profession that you wish more people knew?  What’s a cliché in illustration that drives you crazy?

Most people assume that illustration is about waiting for a ‘bolt of lightning’ to strike while you sit at your desk. In reality, being a professional means juggling tight deadlines and following specific briefs. Inspiration isn’t something that just happens; you have to train it daily by practicing and consuming visual references. With my background in graphic design, I tend to view illustration as problem-solving. It’s a tool to facilitate communication, not a product of divine intervention.

The illustration industry is constantly evolving. AI and generative art becomes widespread in the field, what do you think will still set human illustrators apart? What advice would you offer to aspiring illustrators who are just starting their careers, particularly those looking to develop a unique and recognizable style?

I was dreading this question. I’m really conflicted about generative AI, so I try to stay away from it. I’m afraid it would make me lazy and kill my creativity. I worked too hard for too many years to find my voice and land the clients I have now, and I’m not willing to throw that away.

My advice for those starting out is to stick to the fundamentals. Put in the work: practice and study. Experiment with every style you can until you find your own. It’s a long road, trust me, but you’ll get there.

Photos and images courtesy of Pedro Correa

Dominique Musorrafiti

Ciao! My name is Dominique. I’m Italian and I’m proud to be a mix. My father was an Italian chemical engineer and high school teacher, with Greek and Polish heritage. My mother is Haitian, she was high school language teacher, with Dominican, Spanish, French, Portuguese, African and Native American heritage. Being a mix makes me appreciate to want to understand different cultures and lifestyles. I grew up in Italy, lived few years in Haiti, travel around main European capitals, lived many years in China, in Spain and UK. Traveling makes me feel that we can learn something from every situation in every part of the world.