Author > Oscar Senonez / The absence of illustrations in this article is intentional.
In the previous article, I made it clear why works such as the Mona Lisa or the Sistine Chapel, despite having been born from commissions and narratives, are not illustration: they are sovereign expressions, “high art” in which the image reigns supreme and does not humbly serve an external message.
Today I take it one step further, because the history of the illustrated book is full of illustrious intruders who, for all their genius, failed spectacularly when they tried to illustrate.
Two famous names on that list are Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse.
Yes, the very same artists who revolutionized modern painting. The same ones that some colleagues cite as models for “elevating” illustration to “high art.” However, from the point of view of the profession I defend—one that is dependent, clarifying, and subordinate—they were terrible illustrators. Not for lack of talent, obviously, but perhaps due to a combination of arrogance, disdain, and denial?... I don’t know. What I can affirm from the outset is that it was due to an absolute rejection of the rules that make illustration possible.
Let’s take Matisse and his celebrated Jazz (1947). A dazzling book: paper cut-outs with gouache, vibrant colors, and organic forms dancing around circus themes. But does it actually illustrate anything? The text (written by Matisse himself) feels like a secondary addition, almost an excuse. The images could hang in a gallery without losing anything; the book feels more like a bound portfolio. There is no real dialogue with the text: the image comes first, dominates, and eclipses everything else. Matisse does not submit to the discipline of the page or the demands of reproduction; he prioritizes his personal expression over any clarifying intention.
Picasso is no different. His collaborations with Ambroise Vollard (Le Chef-d’œuvre inconnu by Balzac, 1931; Lysistrata by Aristophanes, 1934; and Ovid’s Metamorphoses) feature magnificent engravings—cubist or linear depending on the period. But again, do they illustrate? No. They are free interpretations, often so personal that they could be removed from the book without any loss. The text becomes a pretext for showcasing his style; the page, an obstacle. Picasso imposes his vision without adapting to the format, the narrative rhythm, or the technical conditions of reproduction. The result is usually a fragmented book: a container of plates rather than a coherent whole.
What unites both artists? Their contempt for the limitations of the craft. They do not study (or outright seem to disdain) how their drawings will behave in print—color registration, texture, scale. They do not accept that illustration must subordinate itself to the text, dialogue with the mise en page, and serve the reader. They prefer the book to function as an excuse for their graphic work. It seems like the arrogance of the painter: genius above the “lesser” rules.
Paradoxically, some illustrators venerate them precisely for this reason, attempting to “liberate” illustration from its dependent condition in order to turn it into “high art.” And, as I have mentioned in another article, that is the mistake. The power of illustration does not lie in freeing itself from limitations, but in embracing them… and embracing them firmly. In being the humble link that illuminates someone else’s message.
The way I see it, if you want “liberation,” devote yourself to “high art” and create images that do not “submit” to anything external (such as a text). In other words, if you want “freedom,” do not go into illustration—you chose the wrong profession.
Picasso and Matisse produced beautiful books, collector’s items for elites. But they did not produce good illustration. They were brilliant intruders who, by refusing to submit, demonstrated why the craft requires discipline, not just genius.
I am not criticizing them as artists (they are titans in the history of art and have earned their place, whether you like their work or not). I criticize them as illustrators: they were terrible ones, because, in my view, they never truly wanted to be illustrators.
A personal anecdote that reinforces all of this happened to me a few years ago. I was asked to re-illustrate a book (or rather, to illustrate it anew—a fairly common phenomenon in publishing that will deserve its own article). The previous illustrator was a well-known colleague, talented, with a graphic style I deeply admire.
Re-illustrating after such a predecessor is intimidating, I admit. But as I read the book alongside his images, I noticed something that both reassured and struck me: no matter how expressive and powerful his illustrations were (and graphically I loved them), they had strayed quite far from the core of the text and the story. Without perhaps intending to, they fell into the same error as Picasso and Matisse: placing their genius above the humble service of someone else’s message.
My work, much more modest graphically compared to his, ended up being more faithful to the text. Not because I was a better artist (far from it), but because I prioritized serving the story rather than imposing my own vision.
And that led me to another reflection: not all illustrators are suited to every text. But I will talk about that, as well as the phenomenon of re-illustration itself, another time.
In the next article, I will make a temporal leap in this historical journey to reach the present and analyze the irruption of Artificial Intelligence in the field of illustration.
Since this is an unavoidable and highly topical subject, that article will mark the beginning of a series in which I will examine the current state of the profession around this technology.
Versión español en: OscarSenonez.Substack.com
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Welcome to This Corner (or Back Again)
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December 27, 2025
A few years ago, back in 2009, I started writing about editorial illustration on a blog that, truth be told, ended up gathering digital dust. The texts were a bit rough, but honest: I talked about the difference between drawing and illustrating, about that invisible chain linking the writer, editor, designer, and illustrator, about the craft as somethin…
Oscar Senonez / www.OscarSenonez.com
Related topics: editorial illustration • illustrative chain • illustrated books
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