Interview with Issa Watanabe: The Art of Storytelling Through Images and Silences

Issa Watanabe, winner of the prestigious 2024 Bologna Ragazzi Award in the category of Best Fiction Book with "Kintsugi," shares her creative process and reflections on illustration, motherhood, and the power of wordless stories. In addition to her acclaimed work in picture books, Issa has been illustrating the prints for our collections for several seasons, capturing the essence of animals with her beautiful strokes.

Q: Tell us a bit about your latest book "Kintsugi." How did the idea for this book begin?
A: Sometimes, we don’t know exactly when something begins, but I have key moments in my mind that shaped certain ideas, and I became a bit obsessed with them.

The first milestone was related to the death of my father. I was in Mallorca, and he lived in Peru. I hadn’t seen him in several years, and I received the news of his death there. I couldn’t say goodbye to him. My daughter Mae had just been born, and I couldn’t attend the funeral either. Shortly after, I received an unexpected package, and inside were many things I had made when I was little. Parents tend to keep things from when we were children, right? The toys we played with together, which he had saved, all had my name, the age I was, the date, and the circumstances in which I had given them to him. There were also things like his watch, among other belongings of his.

One of the items was a picture of us where he was carrying me as a little girl, and behind it was a piece of tape he had placed. Not only did the photo gain value, but the tape itself, which he had last touched, became significant. These are the kinds of things that, with someone’s absence, acquire new meaning. That was one of the first ideas that began to circle in my mind—objects that represent someone’s presence and absence.
The second milestone was in 2019–2020, when a difficult personal situation at home triggered a strong crisis in my life. Suddenly, I started to associate objects with certain values, and the objects that shape our daily life—the coffee cup you use every day, for example—carry presence because of their use. These objects metaphorically represent the balance we belong to.
The book is about how something can change, causing one of the characters to be swept away, taking all the objects between them, breaking them. It’s a kind of inner journey to recover something that has changed or been lost and the process one goes through in trying to regain something that may never be the same again.

Q: How do you use silence in your work?
A: I’m not a writer, and storytelling through images comes naturally to me. I don’t feel I need words. On the other hand, the absence of text allows the reader to fill in the words. There are many layers of silence. One is the lack of text, and the other is connected to the spaces left in the shadows, which is quite Japanese, actually. It’s about leaving some things veiled, not saying everything, keeping the story open. It allows room for the reader to interpret.

Q: Tell us a bit about your creative process. How do you create your stories?
A: I don’t start with sketches. It’s incredibly hard for me to make a storyboard and have a clear idea of what’s going to happen. Ideas circle around in my mind, and I start working in a very intuitive way. I visualize the idea in images and create it. Since I use a technique that’s not fixed (I draw each element separately and independently), it allows me to play with the elements.

Everything is done with colored pencils, in a very artisanal way. As I assemble the image in my head, I let new things emerge during the process. It’s like a child who dumps out all their toys and starts to play. Everything takes shape as I go along, but I don’t have a preconceived idea. It’s beautiful because you let things you hadn’t planned enter the process. Turning off the rational side and letting the playful and unconscious emerge.

Q: What parts of the process do you enjoy the most?
A: What interests me more than the final result is the process itself. "Kintsugi" could never have been published, and I would’ve been okay with it. The book gave me space to process, understand, and express the things that had been broken. There’s a lot of healing in creating something. If I was told to shorten it or that it didn’t work, I didn’t mind. I needed to go through that process to heal certain things. Even at the risk of it being rejected.

Q: What significance do animals have in your stories?
A: It’s funny because, looking back, I’ve always drawn animals. In the package I received that I mentioned earlier, all the drawings were of animals. Characters with animal heads. It allows me to represent things from a different perspective, a way to approach through fiction. Also, in some cases, like in my book "Migrantes," by not using humans (which would place the story in a specific context), using easily recognizable animals from different species universalizes the discourse, in this case about migration.

It also softens a topic that is already quite harsh. When a child approaches a subject like that, using fiction (which animals allow) makes it easier. Using fiction is a bit like when a child plays with two toy cars, crashing them into each other. The child could be expressing a lot of things there, inventing a reality, but it’s a reality they know doesn’t affect the outside world. It’s a safe space.

Q: Tell us about your experience illustrating prints for Red Caribou.
A: It’s different, first of all, because the technique is different. It’s not a handmade process but done digitally. What I like is that when I dive into a personal project like a book, it’s long, with complex processes; whereas with Red Caribou, I get to connect with something more playful, from a sweeter place, without much personal complexity. It helps me to work more spontaneously and directly. Yet, it’s still part of this game of telling a story and creating worlds, always with a different universe that starts from a beautiful story.

Q: Has your experience as a mother influenced your work in any way?
A: Being a mom influences every aspect of your life. Your perspective on things changes. It’s inevitable to have a different outlook. It’s the ability to see life through a child’s eyes, how a child discovers the world, and in that discovery, you begin to remember the wonder of things that no longer surprise you. When a child discovers that water can’t be grasped—that’s a bit of what you put into what you create: that curiosity and figuring things out.

I want Mae to read what I make and enjoy it... I dedicate everything to her. When I got pregnant with Mae, it was unexpected, and I was very scared. I had never been around babies before. When she was born, the instant I saw her, I fell deeply in love with her. What happened to me at that moment still happens every day.

Q: Do you have any message for mothers?
A: There’s often a lot of noise outside about what you should or shouldn’t do and how you should do it when you’re a mom, and it’s about following your intuition. It’s so important. As a single mom, I have to make a lot of decisions on my own about the things that happen, and many times you’re not sure about the decision, but it’s about trusting that intuition. That intuition tends to come from a very deep place of love.

Through her art, Issa Watanabe invites us to explore the world of emotions and human experiences, reminding us that sometimes silences and images can say far more than words. Her intuitive and deeply personal approach to creating picture books shows us how art can be a powerful tool to process experiences, tell universal stories, and connect with readers of all ages.
Thank you, Issa, for this interview! We hope you continue delighting us with your beautiful illustrations in many more collections to come!