Simon Spilsbury talks to Katherine Raderecht about his life and illustrating a new creative manifesto in collaboration with world-renowned copywriter, Eugene Cheong.Image above: photography by Joe Short. joeshort.com; All book images: courtesy of Eugene Cheong
Bath-based illustrator and graphic artist Simon Spilsbury has spent more than three decades capturing the world in a single, energetic line. Known for his spontaneous, instinct-driven approach and sharp humour, his work has appeared everywhere from national newspapers and advertising campaigns to beer cans, pianos and beyond. Now, with the release of Cowards Don’t Go To Heaven, he reflects on creativity, courage and why speed still matters.
A line of work
In his studio in Bath, Simon Spilsbury moves fast.
That much becomes clear almost immediately – not just in the work itself, but in the way he talks about it. Ideas are instinctive. Drawings are reactions. There is little patience for overthinking. “Seat of your pants stuff,” as he puts it.
After more than three decades as an illustrator and cartoonist Spilsbury remains resistant to the idea of pinning anything down too neatly. Even the word style doesn’t sit comfortably. “I’m not a fan of the word ‘style’,” he says. “It’s inherently restrictive.” Instead, what defines his work is energy: a restless, fast-moving response to the world around him. “Energetic, spontaneous and humorous,” is how he describes it.
I haven’t even touched the surface – I’d need another couple of lifetimes to work it all out.
A life in drawing
Spilsbury’s route into drawing was almost inevitable.
“I was born into an artist family,” he says, “so it was omnipresent.”
After 30 years, his curiosity hasn’t dimmed. “I haven’t even touched the surface,” he says. “I’d need another couple of lifetimes to work it all out.” That sense of unfinished business runs through everything he does. His drawings rarely feel laboured; they arrive quickly, shaped by instinct and years of practice. “My fast and instinctive approach comes from years of doing it,” he says. “The speed and energy reflect my character – I can’t sit still. I like to react and move on.”
Humour and observation
For Spilsbury, the process is deliberately stripped back. There’s no appetite for overworking ideas or polishing them into submission.
“What makes an idea worth drawing? Gut reaction.”
It’s an approach that resists the current tendency toward refinement and control. Even knowing when to stop isn’t necessarily the point.
“Knowing when to keep going might be something to work on,” he says, wryly. The result is work that feels alive – sometimes rough-edged, often funny, occasionally biting. His humour, he suggests, isn’t engineered so much as embedded. “It just happens,” he says.
There is commentary in his work, but it is rarely heavy-handed. “I don’t comment in a political or zealous way,” he says. “It’s more a reflection of social anatomy.”
Humour, in that sense, becomes a way of saying what might otherwise be difficult to express.
A changing industry
Having worked across decades of publishing and advertising, Spilsbury has seen the landscape shift dramatically – and not always for the better.
“The biggest shift is the free-fall into mediocrity,” he says. It’s a blunt assessment. Globalisation, mass publishing and the push towards broader markets have, he suggests, diluted individuality. “Less exposure for individual commentary and opinion,” he says. “Less integrity – and an underuse of the best talent.”
Social media, meanwhile, has created visibility – but not necessarily clarity. “It provides a platform for everything,” he says. “But that’s what you get – everything. And it’s too overwhelming to ingest.”
And then there’s AI. “AI needs to be seen as a good tool,” he says, “but not as a solution to creativity – because it patently isn’t one.” What it produces, by itself – he argues, is largely forgettable. “It might be fleetingly entertaining to see a python eating a rhinoceros, but that’s never going to add much to visual culture. Most of what AI is producing is digital landfill and momentary voyeurism.” More concerning is its impact on the next generation. “It’s going to take away the starter jobs,” he says. “Which means there won’t be a natural environment for young creatives to learn and progress.”
Creative courage
These ideas sit at the heart of his latest project, Cowards Don’t Go To Heaven, created with Eugene Cheong – a Singapore-based copywriter and former Chief Creative Officer of Ogilvy Asia Pacific, recognised by D&AD as one of the world’s 50 greatest copywriters.
A good drawing is something that elicits a reaction – negative or positive – it means I’ve done my job
The book – a handwritten manifesto on creativity, illustrated with Spilsbury’s drawings – pushes back against the culture of polish and perfection that increasingly defines creative work. Spilsbury and Cheong’s collaboration is built on decades of mutual respect. “Parallel careers,” he says, “albeit on different sides of the globe.” Between them, the book represents “70 years of creative industry experience.” Their working method was as instinctive as the drawings themselves. “A quick chat about the overall concept, then a quick drawn response,” he says. “No getting bogged down with analysis. No roughs required.”
Cheong describes the book’s philosophy as “perfect imperfecto” – a phrase Spilsbury loves. At its core is the idea of creative courage – not as an abstract concept, but something practical and often overlooked. “Creative courage is vital,” he says. “But sometimes you forget to adopt it.” The book, then, is as much a reminder as it is a statement. “It’s going to be so good,” he says, “not only for creatives starting out, but for those of us who still need that reminder.”
He’s already putting that into practice – reading a spread each morning. “It keeps me on my toes.”
Life in Bath
If Spilsbury’s work is fast, loose and energetic, his surroundings provide a striking contrast. He moved to Bath after growing up in Somerset, leaving London behind when it “got a bit much.” What he found was somewhere he chose to stay. “It’s incredibly difficult to leave its utopian blanket,” he says. The city doesn’t directly influence the work but “It provides the grounding,” he says, “which allows me the space to go wild. His daily routine reflects that balance. The structure remains consistent, even if the subject matter doesn’t. “I can be drawing for an international bio-innovation conference one day,” he says, “and the next I’ll be drawing anthropomorphic chickens.”
Enduring lines
For all the projects, commissions and recognition, what matters most to Spilsbury is simply having endured.
“The fact that I’ve survived in the industry,” he says, “is where the pride kicks in.”
There’s no sense of slowing down. If anything, the focus is on continuing to learn. “Keep learning to draw and think,” he says. “Keep reading the book.”
And as for what makes a drawing good – that, at least, hasn’t changed. “Something that elicits a reaction,” he says. “Negative or positive – means I’ve done my job.”
studiospilsbury.com
A manifesto in ink
Cowards Don’t Go To Heaven is not a conventional art book. Written entirely by hand by Eugene Cheong and paired with 66 of Simon Spilsbury’s drawings, it presents itself as a manifesto rather than a memoir.
At its core are eight “creative habits”, described as an antidote to what Cheong calls the industry’s “pollution” – work that is forgettable, formulaic and culturally disposable.
Produced in ink and charcoal, the book is a deliberately analogue object, championing imperfection and immediacy over polish.
Published by Victionary (Hong Kong), it is available from 28 May 2026, priced at around £30, via independent bookshops and online retailers including Bookshop.org and Amazon.
