Welcome to ReSketching

Welcome to the first official issue of ReSketching! This newsletter is a space where I’ll share reflections on creativity, the artistic journey, and all the ups and downs that come with it. I’ll be sharing my experiences as I go. Some newsletters will be more personal, in others I will show you some practical process of specific projects, and some will explore the materials and tools I use.

For now, I just want to put my thoughts into words and open a conversation. If you’ve ever felt lost in your creative path, maybe we can figure some of it out together.

If there’s one thing I’d say to anyone walking the path of illustration, it’s this: this career (like any other) takes time.

If your goal is to become a successful illustrator overnight, in a few months, or even in a year… I’m sorry to say, but it doesn’t work that way. In fact, if that’s your main goal, you might be on the wrong path.

At least, that was my story. And I can speak from experience.

Wanting to succeed doing what you love is completely valid. But the real question is: what does that word ‘success’ even mean?

At first, my reasoning was simple: I love drawing. I truly enjoy it. I don’t want to do anything else. But I need to pay my bills. So what if I could pay it by doing what I love?

Money was never really the point. Of course, being valued for your work includes being paid what it's worth. But for me, the real goal was something else: I didn’t want to spend eight hours a day doing something I didn’t care about just to survive. I wanted my time to go into what I was passionate about.

And when you put it that way, it makes sense.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. Without realizing it, I started measuring my success by external things. The clients I worked with. The places where my illustrations were published. The people who invited me to speak at events. The numbers on my Instagram. Little by little, I started to care more about how others perceived me than about how I felt about my own work.

If I look back, I can see a pattern. The same story, repeating itself, with different characters. Let me tell you one of the clearest examples that happened early in my career.

At that time, there was a magazine in Argentina known for its incredible design and illustrations. I used to collect it when I was younger. The most famous illustrators had worked there, so it was a dream client.

I launched a full campaign to get my portfolio in front of the magazine’s art directors. I sent emails, reached out to contacts, and followed up multiple times. But I didn’t get a response. Meanwhile, I was working on other projects. The clients I collaborated with weren’t as well-known, but they gave me the space to experiment, refine my skills, and grow as a professional.

Then, a few years later, when my portfolio had significantly improved, and I wasn’t actively pursuing it anymore, I finally got the email. They wanted to commission me for an illustration. It felt great. I worked hard on it and was really happy with the final result. They were happy too, and soon, they reached out again. Eventually, I became a frequent collaborator.

From the outside, it looked like a big achievement. People, especially those outside the industry, would congratulate me. You work for that magazine? That’s amazing! You’re huge!

But… something didn’t feel quite right.

When I had first set that goal, it seemed like the kind of opportunity that would define my success. But by the time I got there, things had changed. The projects were exciting at first, but with time, the deadlines got tighter, the pay was low, and I found myself just completing assignments rather than truly engaging with them.

This is one of the things that, as a grown-up, scares me the most today: just delivering. Meaning, not enjoying, not being conscious about what I am doing, just checking tasks off a list.

One day, I realized that this work relationship had turned into something unhealthy. And I fully take the blame. I’m not criticizing the client at all. The problem was that I had wanted it so badly, even for the wrong reasons, that I found it incredibly difficult to say no, to turn down their projects. At the time, it felt impossible.

But today, if I could go back and talk to Carolina from that moment, I would ask her: Why do you care so much about them? What role does this client actually play in your life?

Money? Definitely not.

Personal growth? Not really, you’re just going through the motions.

Prestige? Yes, maybe. But… what did that 'prestige' even bring you?

That kind of prestige felt like sand slipping through my fingers. And if there was nothing concrete behind it, when it eventually disappeared, nothing remained. Because that supposed prestige was based on who I was working with, not what I was doing. In fact, by the end, there were plenty of projects that I had simply delivered, so what was the point?

Eventually, the work relationship started to fade. I began declining projects more often, and they moved on to new illustrators, as is the natural cycle of things.

Looking back, I can see that this happens all the time. We set big goals based on where we are at a certain point in our careers, but by the time we reach them, we’ve already grown. The challenge that once seemed unreachable now feels different: sometimes smaller, sometimes less fulfilling, sometimes like just another step rather than a final destination.

For years, I believed that success was about working for certain clients, getting published in certain places, or reaching external milestones.

And again, in this particular case, the mistake was mine. I could have used that space to explore, experiment, and grow my artistic practice. But instead, I was more worried about creating trendy pieces that would look good in photos and perform well on Instagram.

And spoiler alert: this didn’t just happen with this client. It happened with others too, back then and even recently. And I promise, I’m learning. Now, I’ve identified two red flags that help me recognize when I’m falling into this pattern again:

• When I accept a project just because I think it will be 'easy to do' (Sometimes it is, sometimes it turns into a real headache).

• Because it seems like a 'quick gig' (Which, in most cases, may or may not be quick, but if it truly is a quick gig, I can almost guarantee it will be underpaid).

Today, I understand that the most genuine goal is constant growth. To keep searching, trying, and evolving our personal thoughts and artistic concerns. To learn to enjoy the process. Because that is the only thing that will always be there.

These big milestones? The problem was that I had made them the only thing that mattered. I had placed so much weight on external validation that, at some point, I stopped listening to my own voice.

I wanted to make a living from illustration. And I did. But somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

And, unsurprisingly, this was deeply connected to me. To the things happening inside me. Because illustration, at the end of the day, is a window into our inner world, into the way we process life. Whether we realize it or not, what we carry inside will always show up in our work and the way we treat it.

Today, after almost ten years as a freelance designer and illustrator, I can see this more clearly. That’s why I decided to start ReSketching.

Mainly because I need to express myself. But also because I want to share my experiences: my mistakes, my wins, and my thoughts on this profession that I’m still figuring out.

And this time, I’m doing something I never really did before: sharing my real process. Not just the finished pieces, not just the polished thoughts, but the work-in-progress. Both in my art and in myself.

If this helps someone, that’s great. And if it sparks conversations that help us grow together, even better.

I started with something I had never done before: drawing a self-portrait. I will tell you more about this soon, but for now, I can say that it was something I had always avoided. But now, it felt like the right place to begin, because at this moment, I’m not just figuring out what I create, but who I am as an artist.

I'm Caro Marando, and I'm a designer, illustrator, and lettering artist, and I invite you to join me on this journey.

What about you?
What does success mean to you? What are your goals as an artist?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let’s figure some of this out together. See you in the next one!

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