HI, I’M HANNAH BONN

I love folklore. A colour palette that makes you feel good. Really good. I love bringing a story to life. Illustration that oozes personality. A little cutesy at times, but definitely bold enough that you can’t ignore or forget it. I want to create something that you want to keep forever.

Honestly, I think we'd have a lot of fun together.

Look, let’s skip the small talk. Straight to the coffee (ahhhh)... and maybe straight to my portfolio too.

I’VE BEEN ON A FEW DATES BEFORE...

Adidas · Vans · Gorman · Levain Bakery · Lord’s / Barclays

They've all been great! I'd love to add you to my roster.

OH, YOU’RE STILL HERE?

Let’s talk some more…

If we’re really getting to know each other, I ought to tell you my Illustrator origin story.

Like most of us in the creative industry, I’ve always been creative in some way or another. Growing up, I was always drawing, painting, sewing, experimenting... generally making a mess. I ruined a fair few carpets and 'nice clothes' with paint, missed many an event to stay home and make things, and had no real direction other than I’ll work a creative job someday, and this will all make sense somehow.

I took an Art & Design course at my local college, and when I finished, I somehow felt more lost than ever. So I packed up and moved to London from the tiny village in the Cotswolds I grew up in, met my partner and carried on creating in any way I could. For a while, I made fibre art wall hangings, plant hangers and T-shirts, just to satisfy that creative itch. But I never quite felt like I’d found the right thing.

Then I had my first child, and creativity promptly left the room. I went through a, shall we say, rocky period of adjustment. I became quite isolated and low, and my entire focus became being a good mum. Somewhere along the way, I lost my sense of self. I did briefly try to find myself and in a moment of madness bought a sewing machine and began making my son rompers and leggings, but it was short-lived. I was well and truly lost.

One thing that got me out of the house was taking my son to Waterstones to pick out a new picture book. It became my little window into creative enjoyment, something I didn’t have to feel guilty about because, after all, I was there for my son. We amassed quite the collection of beautifully illustrated childrens books, and somewhere amongst all those pages I started thinking, you know what? If I could illustrate a beautiful picture book one day, I’d feel so proud. And I think my son would feel proud too.

So I started painting again. Though there was a problem. We lived in a tiny studio apartment. (Ah, London living.) There was no storage, no decent space to paint and certainly no fancy, aesthetic dedicated studio. I’d wait for a window of sleeping toddler, rummage around to get my supplies out, squeeze myself into a tiny corner of the room and work in complete silence. By the time I’d finally set everything up, I was already thinking about the pain of having to pack it all away again. Add in the general mental load of having a small child, and switching my creative brain on felt near impossible. So, as quickly as the thought to illustrate had arrived, my reality stood in the way.

Around this time, Instagram was doing its thing, and I spent a lot of time watching other people be creative while I was stuck underneath my beautiful sleeping baby. I started watching people draw digitally, and I found it ridiculously satisfying. My partner insisted I could do it too. I insisted I probably couldn’t. I also liked making physical artwork, so I wasn’t particularly fussed. And besides, an iPad was way too spenny for me to consider buying myself.

Then one evening, my partner stopped by the Apple store and brought an iPad home for me. He knew I wasn’t really in the mindset to pull myself out of the hole I was in, so he said, just use it for fun. No pressure. And I did. Suddenly there was no set-up. I could draw silently, anywhere, whenever I had a spare moment. I started to gain a little confidence, and more importantly, I started enjoying being creative again. I began posting my work online. Slowly, I started selling prints, taking commissions and working with small businesses. Eventually, I was able to get myself a laptop and Photoshop.

We moved into a still-tiny-but-slightly-larger apartment where I could finally introduce painting back into the mix. By this point, I was a mum of two, with my daughter joining our family, and life had taken on a whole new level of chaos. This was also the time my son was diagnosed as neurodivergent. Navigating that alongside everything else was, and still is, a huge part of our lives. It challenged me in ways I never could have anticipated, both personally and creatively. It also lit a bit of a fire in me.

And this was all happening during Covid. Yikes.

Somehow, amongst it all, I was finding my way back to making things. Being able to paint again, while continuing to draw digitally, is where my work really started to become the blend of traditional and digital artwork it is today.

Then came Adidas. I received a message from Skye at Roar Artists asking if I’d be interested in filling a spot for a live drawing event with Adidas and Creative Debuts. I was terrified. Naturally, I said yes because apparently I like a challenge now? Anyways, a week before the event, I broke my arm. At the time, it felt pretty on brand. Everything up until that point had felt like a huge struggle, so I guess in a way the broken arm was me being true to myself. A queen of consistency. I still turned up and painted one-handed. Almost comically, Skye had injured her back just before the event too, so we were both pushing through it. It was a great evening and completely confirmed for me that I was on the right track and maybe, just maybe, I could actually do this.

From there, I just kept going. Moved apartments again, still tiny London living, but it gave me what I can only describe as a windowless broom cupboard to work from. I kept developing my style, learning, creating, taking opportunities that scared me a whole lot, and getting to work on an amazing array of projects with some brilliant teams. Eventually, Skye and I reconnected, and I became represented by Roar Artists. Now I get to spend my days doing the thing I’ve always wanted to do, around my children, while still working towards that picture book.

And that, more or less, is the story of how I became an illustrator.

You probably know me a little too well now; I’ve talked way too much. But I love what I do, and I hope you love it too.

And... Now that we’re suitably acquainted, can we take it to my portfolio?