The Pictoplasma conference for character design and illustration transformed Manhattan into a hub of exceptional visual talent, bringing together artists, animators, and students from around the world.
Alongside inspiration and the presentation of groundbreaking work, the conference revealed a complex picture regarding the profession’s future: the discussion focused on the difficulty of making a living from illustration and the growing importance of creating viral online content and storytelling – sometimes at the expense of aesthetics. Despite the challenges and concerns about AI, could it be that the key to survival simply lies in enjoying the creative process and persevering?
Pictoplasma is an organization and international network dedicated to the art of contemporary character design and art that was founded in Berlin in 1999 by Peter Thaler and Lars Denicke. It takes place in Berlin, New York, and London. In September 2025, it landed once again in midtown Manhattan for the 11th time.
The conference serves as an international community for the field of character design, offering connections with leading creators, screening films and projects from industry professionals, and even providing an opportunity to meet with senior executives for one-on-one portfolio reviews.
I briefly wondered how to even translate “character design” into Hebrew; it’s not exactly just “designing characters,” as this field undoubtedly combines many different disciplines from illustration, comics, animation, and 3D, as well as the traditional graphic design we all know. But it also touches on the important element of content creation, the art of storytelling, and a statement that goes slightly beyond aesthetics itself.
I decided to go with the general term “illustrators,” mainly based on the impression I got when entering the SVA Theatre in the center of Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood. Many students from SVA and BFA, which are design and animation schools, respectively. Most were sociable, sketching in a sketchbook or on an iPad, and exchanging postcards they drew on the spot with friends. There was also a large whiteboard and markers inviting people to doodle casually, a friendly and quite hipster audience (but in a good way), and a particularly modest welcome: a sticker pack of the speakers, a jerrycan of coffee, and that was about it. It felt like the Holon Institute of Technology’s coffee corner, but in the New York version.
After the opening remarks and pleasantries, the first speaker was Fran Meneses, a New York-based artist from Chile who illustrates lovely and aesthetically pleasing comics, mostly revolving around the story of mental health. She gained prominence mainly after a few small comics went insanely viral on social media. She shared about the depression she experienced during the COVID-19 period and how her illustrations helped pull her out of it, and especially how their virality helped her realize how much people identified with her, which became a serious motivator for her creation. Therefore, besides the comics and art she sells, she also shares the creative process itself with her audience. Her YouTube channel, which has accumulated over 300,000 followers worldwide, beautifully, aesthetically, and calmly documents the process of creation itself.
The next speaker was much more industry-savvy, with quite a few big names under his belt, such as Apple and The New York Times. He is an illustrator, designer, 3D artist, and motion designer—and there is no doubt that his style is unique and interesting.
In his lecture, he spoke about three different periods in his career: The first period, “Before the Crisis,” was about how he started as a classic illustrator with a lot of potential, developed a flat, neon, and fantastical style that managed to catch the eyes of many lecturers during his studies, and also landed him quite a few jobs in gaming and adaptation to the industry, where he also worked as a product designer and graphic designer.
The “Crisis Period” came after a few years when he felt stuck. Lecturers reinforced the internal fear that he was a “one-trick pony,” and he genuinely felt he had exhausted his potential. The volume of work he received decreased accordingly. He decided that illustration was probably no longer for him and quit the field for about a year.
“After the Crisis” was the period when he realized he had to let go of his old style—something not really taught in design schools. “Everyone teaches you how to find or design your style; no one teaches you how to let one go,” he shared. Fernandez started playing with 3D modeling, a successful experiment that brought back his desire to develop himself in new mediums. The flat style was revived, and he incorporated animation, textures, and a mix of 3D and 2D. He felt he had defeated the crisis and returned to center stage, showcasing some magnificent works he did for The New York Times and other major clients. Bravo!
Cari Vander Yacht is an excellent illustrator who has also worked with big brands like Nike, Apple, and The New York Times. She has a contemporary and modern style, and her lecture was light and enjoyable. Among other things, she shared the pressure of producing illustrations from client briefs and her techniques for releasing that pressure. Spoiler: she always has a sketchbook where she draws the most ridiculous things she can think of. She was a wonderful reminder not to take yourself too seriously.
Danny Casale, known as Coolman Coffeedan, is undoubtedly the most recognized artist at the conference, and I’m sure even people not in the field of illustration or design have stumbled upon his videos occasionally in their feed, with over 2.8 million followers on Instagram.
He recounted how he started making ridiculously simple and silly animations, even before there were social networks to explode on. How he somehow reluctantly became a kind of “meme lord,” and how every time he thought the new gimmick (vertical videos, TikTok/Shorts) was going to close the party for him. The lecture mainly shows the other hat of illustrators and animators — Danny is first and foremost a storyteller, a creator of content that people love, and the visual element was just a bonus to the whole package. In later stages, Danny positioned himself as an artist and exhibited in galleries and shows in the East (apparently, the Japanese love this style).
Casale recounted how he started making amazingly silly and simple animations — even before there were social networks to explode on
That was all for the first day, and now for a pleasant screening of selected projects, which wrapped up the two parts we covered during the day: from technique and design, to creativity, to storytelling. Now, all that remained was to watch short films, 3–10 minutes long, that combined all of the above – selected treats:
John Kelly tells about his retirement plans. Well-made, great aesthetics, and a good story.
A fantastic animation reminiscent of 90s computer games, accompanied by a great background story of two cowgirls in the American Wild West. A fun and engaging script with dazzling aesthetics.
Creator and Director: Kate Costello
The second day of the conference opened with a long line stretching to the end of the street. It turns out that the festival ticket also grants you the ability to get portfolio feedback from industry seniors, which is why the line likely filled up with more people than available slots. The slot is a five-minute meeting (with a timer!) with an agency from POP MART, TITMOUSE (Midnight Gospel), and a few other recognizable names. As someone who stood in line, I don’t think it was really worth it.
Isolina Minjeong is a ceramic artist whose body of work includes sculptures reminiscent of indigenous totems with modern influences. In her lecture, she gave many tips for working with ceramics, especially on a large scale. She also shared about the gigs she took on to support her sculpture career—illustrations, murals, merchandise, etc.
Jon Burgerman is an excellent speaker. In his one-hour lecture, he managed to unfold a career spanning over a decade, where he started with drawing relatively simple and silly doodles that succeeded much more than he expected. According to him, brands enjoy associating themselves with a coherent and memorable visual language, even if it is hollow and empty of content like his doodles.
Through countless follies and attempts to “make it big” that ranged from trying to go viral in various ways to attempts to sell TV formats—long story short, they all sort of failed, but he managed to extract something positive from all of them.
During the COVID-19 period, Burgerman began to playfully engage with canvases, softening his doodling and adding more layers — and it seems to have succeeded.
The message I took away from the lecture is also the message that best speaks to Burgerman’s career: Enjoy the journey and keep creating; everything else will happen on its own.
jonburgerman.com
What happens when an animation student is simply passionate about directing and producing films? That’s pretty much the story of Jack Wedge, who found Will Freudenheim, the technical half of the project (Jack Wedge and Will Freudenheim). Wedge always dreamed of being a Tarantino or a Scorsese, controlling camera movement, lighting, and the set. Will is simply a genius in everything related to programming and planning game engines, the kind you might have used if you played GTA or a similar first-person game.
Together, they gave us a behind-the-scenes look at a feature-length film they produced called ACID CITY. The film is produced in a documentary style about a dystopian city where air pollution is so terrible that the water stored in the ground has become acidic, beginning to dissolve everything it encounters. The contaminated water, along with the acid rain, has left the city scorched, neglected, and chaotic. So, what was the lecture really about?
Think of it as a film set the size of an entire city — only without the soot, and with a lot of pixels. Neighborhoods, alleys, buildings—everything was constructed in 3D with a high level of detail. Behind all this is in-depth research on the city, the physics of the river, and exactly how acid rain falls.
But it’s not just digital architecture. The residents also gained a life of their own — “extra” characters that move according to game physics or the movements of real people captured by motion sensors. A living, pulsating, and almost real world.
And behind the scenes? Absolute virtual reality madness. To simulate a scene filmed from a boat, they built a river, a boat, and a character holding a “camera”—just so it would all look as if it were truly filmed. It feels like a documentary, only reality itself is no longer sure if it’s the source or the copy.
A project that spans cinema, simulation, and science fiction — proving that when done right, even a fake world can feel painfully real. An excellent project!
I left the conference with a lot of inspiration and visual richness. There is no doubt that Pictoplasma succeeded in gathering a lot of talented people, from the speakers to the screeners, and even some of the students who came to the conference with whom I exchanged a few sentences between lectures.
At the same time, it was not a flashy conference, and the amount of talent seemed inversely proportional to the amount of money and sponsors buzzing around it. Everything was modest, and in many lectures, there were lingering side comments about how hard it is to make a living from this profession, about economic crises, and about career “breakthroughs” that came through creating viral content, and not necessarily having artistic value. There is no doubt that the world of illustration and character design is almost always intertwined with storytelling, but it is evident that the side of creating viral online content – and not necessarily aesthetically meticulous – is probably the most distilled way for most of the audience who want to choose this path to earn a living from design.
I think this slightly sour atmosphere was present in the hall more than once. Some of the speakers blamed artificial intelligence, some blamed Trump, or other artists who betrayed professional loyalty, but I think the bottom line is that looking for culprits certainly won’t help the industry grow and become sustainable. Art as a profession has always been a challenge, and unfortunately, it will likely remain so. I was reminded of Jon Burgerman’s words, and I’m just trying to enjoy the creation and hope that things will happen on their own.
PICTOPLASMA 2025, New York
25+26.9.2025
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