Lately, one of the things I’ve been thinking about most is how technology has opened new doors across every part of my creative life.
That may sound obvious in 2026, but to me it feels deeply personal because I’ve lived through so many versions of what “making” even means.
I’m old enough to have built websites in the early days of the web. Back in the 90s, I coded and built the first website for Oxford University Press, and for brick-and-mortar brands like Brookstone, at a time when the web felt far more raw, limited, and uncertain than it does now. (Although arguably its still raw and uncertain 🤔) I’m also old enough to remember studying illustration at Pratt Institute when Bristol board, pencil, ink, paint, and whatever traditional medium you chose were simply the way the work was done.
And I loved it. I still do.
But I’ve never believed that creativity is defined by one tool or one era.
Years later, I found myself making finger paintings on my original iPhone, just because the app of the day made it possible and I was curious enough to try it. Today, I sketch and paint in Procreate on my iPad. I built the Alania Press site in Webflow. For a long time, I thought Adobe InDesign was simply the path for book layout until research led me to Atticus, and it changed the game for me. I imagined building maps in Adobe Illustrator until research led me to Wonderdraft, and suddenly an entirely different process opened up.
That has been true again with the evolving visuals for the world of Durajan.
Illustration is not being abandoned. Not even close. It remains a core part of how I see and shape this world. But I’ve also been exploring how my illustrations, design sensibilities, and newer tools can work together to create something more cinematic, more atmospheric, more lived in. Real, weathered, textured.
That matters to me.
Because the goal has never been to just “show” the world. The goal is to make it feel alive in the way I see it in my mind.
To me, technology is at its best when it expands human expression rather than replacing it. When it opens a door instead of closing one. When it is used ethically, responsibly, and from a place of creativity, integrity, joy, and artistry.
That is how I approach all of this.
And my hope is that when readers or visitors step into the site, the books, the maps, the lore, the visuals, or any piece of this world, they feel the care behind it. The love behind it. The years behind it. Every pixel, word, logo, color, font, and image is part of that effort.
I want Durajan to feel alive.
