A Conversation with Latasha Dunston
Self-worth wisdom from the illustrator behind Jitterbug Art Studio
Latasha, or Tasha, is an illustrator and owner of Jitterbug Art Studio. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her partner named Jason, sugar glider named Noodle, Dachshund named Leelo, and her plant babies. Before moving there in 2017, Latasha lived in Richmond, Virginia, where she studied scientific and medical illustration at Virginia Commonwealth University School of the Arts. Merging her education with her love of nature, Latasha has collaborated with numerous brands in the outdoor industry, including Merrell, Kula Cloth, and Outside Magazine.
I met Tasha in 2018 at Project16x, a summit for non-binary and female leaders. Since then, we’ve worked together on several projects. While she painted a portrait one morning, we talked about how she prepared to leave her previous career to pursue art full-time, what she does to prevent burnout, and how she brings up money with clients and peers.
What’s your style?
Colorful and plant-based. It's illustrative, but also realistic. I don't feel like I have a distinct style per se because everything I do is so different, from one commission to the next. I play around with colored pencils and chalk a lot. I find that a lot of artists have a signature thing that they reintroduce into their work, like a character, a signature plant, or even a set style of illustration. I’m not one to do that.
What path led you to art?
Probably childhood trauma. I was one of those annoying kids you’d see on a cooking show who’d say, "I’ve been cooking since I was 3 years old.” That's me, but with art. Ever since I was in preschool, that was always the subject I was drawn to. I have kind of a messy childhood story—absent parents and stuff like that. Creativity tends to be what kids are drawn to in those situations and I feel like that’s my story.
But I’m also a Leo, so if you believe in astrology, we're creative people in general. If I wasn't a visual artist, I would be a culinary artist. I still feel like that's something that I'm going to do in my next chapter. We have multiple things to give the world. I’ll be an artist until I don’t feel like being an artist anymore and then I will dive into my next interests. I look forward to that because that makes life exciting.
Check out more of Tasha’s projects on her Instagram.
You used to bartend. How did you know you were ready to be a full-time artist and what did you do to prepare yourself?
I had been working in restaurants since I was 18 and I've always been making art on the side. It wasn’t a lucrative side hustle by any means. I was either in school or trying to move up in the restaurant industry. And I took a break for more than a year because art school almost ruined art for me. Luckily I went back to it. When I moved to Denver in 2017, I had two restaurant jobs at first. I quit one after six months once I saved up what felt like a good amount. Before quitting the other job, I listened to a handful of podcasts and read a bunch of articles that helped me decide how to do it. The advice was: Find an industry, pick a niche, choose a medium, define my audience, and then just go for it. I also decided what strings of income I wanted to have.
In the beginning of 2018, I formed a plan. I still have it written somewhere in an old bullet journal. Two things that helped me involved leaving my home studio. I learned from before that work wouldn’t just come to me through the computer. The first thing I did was go to events that were specific to what I was interested in. The second thing was to create work consistently. I discovered the outdoor industry around the same time, when Outdoor Retailer moved its trade show to Denver in January 2018. I think I stumbled across an art show first and saw it was in conjunction with the show. I just took off from there and tried to make as many connections as I could, like out in the street. It sounds weird, but you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. It was lucky because I live downtown near the conference center. If I lived in any other state, breaking into this industry would’ve been way harder.
(A chalk bag Latasha designed to raise money for a Brown Girls Climb’s scholarship.)
Can you share the breakdown of your work?
This is based off income. The largest part of my business right now is my online store, which wasn’t always the case. At first, it was brand partnerships and collaborations. But that’s second this year. That includes a lot, from ambassador stuff to merchandise collaborations. Technically, workshops would be next if workshops were a thing right now. Murals are also up there because I charge $2,000 minimum. They are my biggest budget project because of their scale and the amount of work they take. It’s a lot of work, but you can do one mural and be good for the month. I only do one or two murals a year, whereas I do a dozen workshops. Last is personal commission work, like pet portraits and couple portraits. I make those really affordable because I tend to keep them small, unless people want a huge one. I’m working on a couple portrait now that’s $200 and I’m working on a pet portrait that’s $125.
What makes you say yes to a job?
First and foremost, does this project get me hyped? I love getting prompts and being like, “Ooh, I know exactly what I would do.” People who approach me usually can tell what I like to do. Then I consider who’s pitching the project. And then, how much is the budget? I end up doing pro bono work for a quarter of the logo jobs I get every year, especially if it’s a person of color trying to start a business that’s going to help others. Most of the time the concept is either completely in my hands or they have an idea that’s not so out of the box. It’s worth it to me to donate half of my morning to that. I used to do free pet portraits for the SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals). The most recent logo I did was for Cero Waste Cindy, who’s a low-waste gardening consultant. When she posted on Instagram that she needed a logo, I instantly replied and was like, yes girl, I want to see you thrive. I made her logo for free because I learn so much from her. Why would I not want to be part of uplifting her?
(One of Latasha’s murals—a solidarity fist based on one of her prints—is in downtown Breckenridge, Colorado.)
Do you have a hard time talking to clients about money?
No, I do not struggle. I would say I really never did. I would like to thank my college education that I worked so hard to pay for. I had a business class for illustration and we got a lot of good textbooks and resources. I’m also part of the Society of Illustrators, which has tons of free resources. There’s never a reason to be guessing, especially in creative fields. There are a gajillion bazillion resources on the internet. For illustrators, it’s easier because most have a store so you can see what they’re charging. But you can also ask artists.
With clients, they’ll tell me the budget and I’ll tell them this is what I can make within the budget. When you put it like that, they try to find more budget. Everything is negotiable, which was something I didn’t realize when I first started. It’s always better to shoot high. I’ve always been one to overprice because it’s way easier to talk down than it is to talk up. My goal is to make sure that I’m questioning things and not underselling myself. Just because they give you a price doesn’t mean that’s all the money they have in the budget. The worst they can do is say no.
Need an illustrator, a muralist, or a portrait-painter? Hire Latasha or recommend her to someone.
Why are you so open about rates and how do you go about asking others artists what they make?
I fully believe in open communication within industries because that’s how you keep the integrity of your industry. The artists in the outdoor industry work together to succeed together. My girlfriend, who’s also a graphic designer in the industry, texted me the other day. She was like, “Hey so-and-so company wants me to do a T-shirt. How much should I charge?” And I replied, “Girl, you need to charge this minimum and they can only use it for two years. Negotiate from that. And let me know what they say.” That’s how everybody makes good money and nobody is undercutting. It helps other people and it’s not going to hurt me because nobody makes art the way I make art. Nobody is me; nobody has my hand and my brain.
If you ask someone what they make, the least the person can say is no. I haven’t asked anybody I don’t know because I’m luckily surrounded by so many artists, but it wouldn’t be out of pocket for me to ask somebody I didn’t know. I would do it in a different way by sending a formal email and offer some type of incentive for their time, not that I shouldn’t do that for my friends. There are different routes to ask strangers. But even at the end of the day, the worst the person could say is “No, I don’t feel comfortable sharing my rates with you.” If you explain to them, I’m starting out in this industry that looks similar to a job that you’ve done, I was wondering if this number would be enough or if you have any tips for what I should charge. Send them a Venmo for their time. Shoot them a gift card. Be professional. Most people are nice enough to share that information with someone who’s bold enough to ask. It’s not that people are boasting in public, so you have to ask if you want to know.
(Latasha’s Self-Serving Zine, available in her shop, features 30 illustrations and passages about self care.)
How do you keep the commercialization of your passion from taking away your psych?
For me, there’s a fine line between discipline and respecting myself. I get a lot done, but not as much as I could get done because I break up my day. Rest time—or what feels like procrastination to some people—can be a vital part of the process. Some days are more rigid than others depending on workload, but I like flexibility. My workdays can range from as little as three hours to as many as 12 hours.
On a typical day, I probably spend 30 minutes on the internet when I first wake up, which I probably shouldn’t. I like to spend the first hour or two of my day just doing things for me, either laying on the couch, roaming around my apartment, cleaning, walking Leelo, or gardening. It’s a good way for me to set the tone for the day. I usually do not go straight into work, unless I’m really excited about a painting. By 10 a.m. at the latest, I’m at my desk. I make a to-do list and check my email. I will work a little. After that, it’s normally lunch time. I will take two hours to eat lunch and do whatever. Then I can normally knock out the rest of my list before dinner. In the evening, I’ll go on a run, garden more, dive back into work and pack orders into the night, or just go to sleep.
The mood I’m in goes into my artwork. That’s where the whole discipline thing is pseudo because sometimes I’m just not feeling it. Especially this summer, it’s been really hard with all the shit going on. You never know how you’re going to feel when you wake up, you never know what’s going to be in the news that throws your day to hell. I’ve tried to paint when I’m not in the mood, but I end up making mistakes and get more mad at myself. You don’t want to be sending people bad juju and toxic energy.
What do you want people to feel when they see their work?
Simply joy. Even in the things that are harder to talk about, like when my posts and artwork center around harder topics, the imagery still tries to cultivate joy in some way.
(A peek inside Latasha’s sketchbook.)
What do you do on your days off?
I mainly spend time with my partner. We have separate schedules. I try to coordinate so we can do things together. That’s normally traveling or just doing things at home like gardening or going on long bike rides.
Is there someone you want to see featured next? Nominate her.
Before you go…
How to start a bullet journal (Bullet Journal)
4 Indigenous and Native outdoor gear designers you should know (SNEWS)
Being mindful with your phone (Flow Magazine)