I love being an illustrator because I get to read really great

Hear the words of Brian Selznick, who spoke with joy and gratitude: “I love being an illustrator because I get to read really great stories, work with amazing people, travel and see places I never would’ve seen. And I get to draw all the time.” This is no ordinary remark, but a hymn to the beauty of vocation. For in these words lies the revelation that when one’s work is aligned with one’s passion, life itself becomes a tapestry of joy, woven with threads of creation, connection, and discovery.

The essence of his saying is the harmony between art and life. As an illustrator, Selznick finds that his daily labor is not a burden but a gift. He speaks of reading great stories, of living within worlds shaped by imagination, and of making those worlds visible through his hand. In this, he participates in an ancient lineage, for since the beginning of civilization, the illustrator has been the bridge between word and image, between thought and vision. He reminds us that to work with stories is to dwell in realms of wonder, and to bring them alive for others is a form of sacred service.

But he also speaks of companionship, of working with “amazing people.” This reveals that art is not only a solitary pursuit but also a communal one. The illustrator partners with authors, editors, publishers, and readers, weaving together a collective act of creation. It is a reminder that even the most personal talents find their fullest bloom when shared, when placed in service of a larger whole. To walk among “amazing people” is itself a blessing, for great work arises when souls inspire one another.

Selznick rejoices, too, in travel, in seeing places he “never would’ve seen.” The gift of his craft is not only to create images but to be carried by them into the world. Here again, we see the deep truth: that art opens doors not only into imagination but into reality itself. The artist who begins at a desk or a sketchbook may find their work leading them to far lands, to new cultures, to encounters they never dreamed. Thus the illustrator becomes not only a creator of images but a traveler of worlds, both inner and outer.

He concludes with the simplest yet most profound joy: “I get to draw all the time.” To be able to do what one loves daily, and to call it work, is among life’s greatest blessings. The child who once sketched for delight becomes the adult who sketches for a living, and in this transformation lies a deep truth: when play becomes vocation, life becomes art itself. His words are a call to remember that labor need not always be drudgery—when aligned with the heart, it can be a form of freedom.

History gives us shining examples of this truth. Think of Leonardo da Vinci, who sketched tirelessly not because he was commanded, but because he was compelled by wonder. Through his drawing, he explored anatomy, flight, invention, and beauty. His passion for drawing led him into courts, cities, and histories he could not have reached otherwise. Like Selznick, Leonardo reminds us that to be faithful to one’s gift is to find the world itself opening in return.

The lesson, then, is this: seek the path where joy and work unite. Do not settle only for labor that consumes your strength but find, if you can, the calling that feeds your spirit. In practice, this means paying attention to what you love in childhood, to what activities make the hours vanish, to what skills bring you joy even in repetition. Pursue these with diligence, and they may become your life’s work, carrying you further than you ever dreamed.

Thus, Selznick’s words stand as a teaching to all generations: to embrace one’s craft, to cherish collaboration, to welcome travel, and above all to love the daily act of creation. For when life’s labor becomes life’s delight, then the journey itself is the reward, and every page drawn becomes a step along the path of fulfillment.