In a time when algorithms churn out images faster than a heartbeat and digital tools promise convenience over craft, there’s something quietly radical about an artist who insists on getting his hands dirty. Meet Ben Duchesne, an emerging UK illustrator whose work is as unfiltered and unflinching as the myths that inspire him. With ink-stained fingers and a taste for the eerie, Duchesne is carving his own path—one dark, intricately cross-hatched line at a time.
Duchesne’s art doesn’t whisper—it howls. It drags you down shadowy corridors, into cursed forests and haunted minds. Inspired by horror comics, Victorian etchings, and noir storytelling, his illustrations bristle with gothic intensity. He doesn’t just draw; he conjures, using traditional techniques to summon stories from the darkness. “My work is proudly and boldly traditional,” he says. “Art is human and built from imagination, creativity and experience. AI only steals and, ironically, lives up to its name as insultingly artificial.”
This sentiment defines his ethos: Duchesne is pushing back against the pixel-perfect polish of AI-generated art by going deeper—both literally and metaphorically—with ink. As a 2022 graduate of Falmouth University’s Illustration program, he’s focused his craft on visual storytelling steeped in myth and melancholy. From Norse legends to noir antiheroes, his subjects often emerge from shadows—figures caught between revelation and ruin, much like the stories they inhabit.
His piece The Punishment of Loki bristles with dramatic tension, as the disgraced god writhes in torment. In Swamp Thing, tendrils of ink morph into tangled foliage and monstrous forms. These aren’t just pictures; they’re portals. Every flick of the pen is purposeful, every smudge a shadow pulled from the subconscious.
Much of this comes from Duchesne’s literary roots. A former student of English and history, he brings a scholar’s sensitivity to storytelling—understanding not just what to draw, but why a story needs to be told. “As an avid reader, I’m constantly pulling in references. Comics got me into art, but I’ve always gravitated towards gothic and thematically heavy narratives,” he explains.
His process is meticulous. It begins not with a sketch, but with story. He reads, interprets, and then maps out where the light will fall. That single decision guides everything else—from tonality to composition. For Duchesne, light isn’t just an element; it’s a character. “Identifying the light source early makes everything else easier. From there, I let the image build itself around it,” he says.
While pen and ink are his signature tools—chosen for their control and capacity for fine detail—Duchesne also experiments with gouache and acrylic, depending on the story’s demands. But he’s not in a rush. He prefers to let a piece evolve, allowing negative space and restraint to do their part. “In the beginning, I would overwork illustrations until I lost the focus,” he reflects. “Now, I’m learning where not to put the ink—how to let the white space speak.”
This philosophy extends beyond his technique. Duchesne believes that black and white artwork can often say more than color ever could. “I’ve always thought black and white is art at its most honest and raw,” he says. “Sometimes, it evokes more than color precisely because it leaves room for the imagination.”
Currently, Duchesne is hard at work on Völd, his own comic book set in Anglo-Saxon England—a project that feels like the perfect storm of his passions: history, myth, and mood-driven storytelling. With this work, he’s not just aiming to entertain, but to immerse readers in a world where the past feels painfully present, and the darkness is never far away.
For art directors and publishers looking for authenticity and a human touch, Duchesne is a name to watch. He’s not just resisting trends—he’s rewriting them, showing that tradition and innovation aren’t enemies, but co-conspirators. In an era obsessed with speed, his slow, deliberate style feels like a breath of ancient air.
Ben Duchesne isn’t here to make “content.” He’s telling stories the way they used to be told: with patience, passion, and just the right amount of darkness.
