In conversation with... Olivia Leino

Tell us a bit about your background—how did your journey into art and illustration begin?

I’ve always drawn. The first thing I remember in life was a small blue table, a big sheet of paper, a wax crayon, and a big house. Drawing has always been my way of looking at the world, with sensitivity and curiosity. I grew up in a creative family where creativity and bold experimentation were encouraged. I was a sensitive and introspective child who spent a lot of time at my own drawing table. Drawing helped me make sense of the world, because I wasn’t interested in school due to difficulties with reading, concentration, and writing, but rather in how the light falls into a room or how absurd our everyday life is. Later, I applied to the Lahti Institute of Design and graduated as a Designer. 

I specialized in graphic design alongside product design, but during the lockdown I returned to my roots – to drawing. That’s when I realized that my work is based on the fact that I’m sensitive, and that it’s my strength. I sense things that may not be immediately visible, and that’s why I can draw something that feels familiar even if you don’t remember why. Today I work as an illustrator at the intersection of visual art and illustration, combining fine art and commercial collaborations.

Your work beautifully blends the natural world with surreal elements. Where does this connection to nature come from?

The elements are born from a single observation I see. I don’t draw nature for its own sake, but I’m interested in the forms, colors, and details that appear in nature, which remind me of something entirely different. They evoke associations with concepts, emotions, or past experiences – or even societal events and cultural eras. For example, a pearl, a flower, or the posture of a bird might remind me of a certain person or a mood, and in that way act as an association between two entirely different things. Nature itself is already surreal – you just have to look. And observe.

Can you walk us through your creative process, from initial idea to final piece?

Creating is thinking and thinking is creating, and it shows in my process. The design process always begins with moments where a small, everyday observation sparks curiosity and touches something deeply. These moments are not necessarily big or dramatic, but they hold something universally human and meaningful. Observation and thinking are the core of my process, and they take time, because I’m not searching for a visual composition, but for a perspective that can withstand a gaze and time. Alongside observation, I sketch. During sketching I often create compositions and symbolism with colored pencils or by cutting paper, because making by hand is the most essential part of my work. Line and texture are key for me, so I emphasize them both in hand drawing and digital drawing. The final piece is created either by hand with colored pencils or digitally. Even when I work in a digital environment, I preserve the feeling of working by hand. I work digitally in exactly the same way as with traditional tools: I color surfaces by hand, use an eraser, start over. This combination of analog and digital work enables the freedom to create without the medium limiting my creativity. The tool only helps to reach the desired atmosphere.

What role do storytelling and symbolism play in your work?

Storytelling and symbolism are, for me, ways to distill experiences and emotions into images. I think of my works as visual poems: moments where feeling and observation meet. Symbolism should not be a brochure or a constraint, but an experience and a feeling. I don’t want to tell the viewer what they should see or feel. I believe an image gives enough if you let it live and give it time. Images don’t have to solve anything, but I aim for them to evoke thoughts and new perspectives. Maybe one of them stays in the mind, maybe it returns later. Then the image has done what I hoped for.

You work across both digital and traditional media. How do you decide which medium to use for a project?

I always choose my tools based on the kind of work I’m creating and what the final outcome should be. If I’m making a unique piece for a gallery, I choose traditional tools, like coloured pencils and handmade paper. If I’m working on a commercial project for a client, or simply want some variation for myself, I often choose digital tools. But that varies too. I also use digital tools when I’m travelling – in that case, the iPad is a convenient and easy option that doesn’t require any special setup.

 

 

What’s a recurring theme or subject you find yourself revisiting, intentionally or unintentionally?

In my work, I keep returning to a few broad core themes: sensitivity, emotions, questions of life and existence, and humanity. They aren’t limited to one visual form or moment, but appear as different expressions across various pieces: often as small observations, sometimes as the main subject of the work. I notice myself returning to these themes because I search for and prioritize them in my own life. Partly, I return to them because we live in a time where reactivity, urgency, and external demands shape our everyday existence. A lot is expected, and presence and empathy between people are lost. In my work, I aim to balance the effects this creates in people. I create visual spaces where it’s allowed to pause, to feel, and to simply be. It’s both a personal need and a shared experience that our time demands.

Is there a particular piece you’ve created that feels especially personal or meaningful to you?

I don’t have one piece that is the most meaningful, but I would say that my entire bird collection is the most significant series to me. I have always paid attention to birds in nature, and observing them has led me to think more deeply about human interaction and community dynamics. I am interested not only in the movement patterns and the essence of birds but especially in how they communicate and live together – how they form flocks and pairs, and how they survive together. As a child, I swam with Canada geese, fed hundreds of ducks in my backyard, and ran crying from a buzzard. Through this observation, I began to see birds as archetypes of people, their sense of community and their relationships with one another. Drawing birds is a way to approach a more abstract method of expressing human life, its mundanities, and its complexity.

What advice would you give to emerging artists looking to build a distinct and authentic style?

Create all the works that come to your mind, be bold, and be honest with yourself. Finding your unique style takes time, curiosity to experiment, and the willingness to fail. It takes time, but the most meaningful things often come with time. And always try something new. This doesn’t mean you have to discard what you’ve been doing for a long time, but change refreshes your thinking and gives you new perspectives.