For the last ten years, I’ve been working as an art director and creative director for print magazines. I was a freelance photographer before getting my first art director job at Kinfolk, and when I left that role, I started my own magazine called Broccoli. Over the last eight years, Broccoli has evolved from a single magazine into a full-fledged publishing company, making delightful niche magazines, art books, and oracle decks. 

One of the unifying threads that gleam through all of our projects is the art—in everything we do, we feature an array of captivating visual work. In this post you’ll see examples of art that appears in Mushroom People, Volume 2, our magazine all about fungi, designed by Jennifer James Wright.

Most of the art we publish is licensed or commissioned:

Licensing means that we are paying a fee to publish an artist’s existing work.
Commissioning is when an artist comes to us with an idea, and we pay them to execute it.

I do all of the art licensing and commissioning for Broccoli projects, which means that I review thousands of images every time we make a magazine. (Right now, I’m reviewing submissions for our new magazine, Sun & Moon—if you are interested in submitting work, the deadline is March 24, 2025; learn more here.) 

Art direction is, well, an art, not a science, so everyone’s process is a little different. But at Broccoli, building a magazine starts with a theme. Our editorial team thinks through concepts, and a dim and fuzzy form emerges. If we feel excited about this amorphous creature we’re conjuring from the depths of our minds and think other folks might be interested, too, we send out a writing pitch call. Stories flood in, and we sift through them, deciding what to commission. The shape of what we are making starts to come into sharper focus. 

These early text commissions form the skeleton of the magazine, and that’s when I start envisioning art. Knowing what stories we’ll be telling helps me think about how I’d like the ideas to be represented visually. I once heard a great piece of advice about editorial art direction: You don’t always want to show and tell. In a nutshell—don’t be too literal. Readers are smart, and a good magazine experience should stimulate the imagination through surprising connections and ideas. 

This is where it gets tricky for artists. During the art submission process, I’m looking for unexpected, beautiful interpretations of the subject matter we’re exploring. But “unexpected” and “beautiful” can be hard to define. Everyone has their own frame of reference for what’s fresh and interesting, and those qualities change, too, depending on the other pieces coming together as the magazine takes shape. Thinking like an art director requires a metaphoric blurring of the eyes, attempting to see the whole rather than just the parts. But the hard truth here is that I can’t invite you inside of my brain, and I can’t screenshot the hazy swirl of images slowly coalescing in my mind. 

It’s frustratingly undefinable, but that’s part of the magic. When I comb through art submission emails, I’m treasure hunting. It feels like collecting puzzle pieces without having the final image to guide me. The vision becomes a little clearer with every glittering piece I pick up.

 In an attempt to demystify the art process a little bit, let’s dig into some common questions. 

What kinds of visual artists does Broccoli work with? 
Photography, illustration (digital and tangible), and painting are the primary styles you’ll see in our magazines. We are less likely to feature sculptures, textiles, and other 3D forms of art, because they’re often best experienced in real life, not on a flat magazine page. 3D pieces need to be photographed or digitally scanned as artfully as the work itself to work in print. 

Do you publish comics and graphic essays?
We don’t publish comics or graphic essays. 

What art styles are right for Broccoli magazines? 
If you’re not familiar with our titles, it’s helpful to click through our shop and look at some spreads. I’ve been the creative director on every single one of our projects, so while every publication is unique, aesthetic common threads run throughout. 

How do we choose the images that get published? 
When I open an art submission email, I scroll right to the attachments or links to the work and/or concept pitch. If it’s not the right fit, I respond with a friendly rejection. If I’m intrigued, I’ll reread the email and download a few images into a review folder. Then, I email that artist to let them know that I’m considering the work and will circle back if I’m able to offer a commission or license their work. 

Sometimes, these “maybes” sit for a while, even a few months. While they sit, we’re waiting to read story drafts and starting to imagine the overall design of the magazine—elements critical for determining the art. It is all very intertwined, and I don’t like to rush this process. 

Do we only work with professional artists? 
We work with all kinds of artists, and it’s not important to me if you’re currently being paid for your art elsewhere. What matters is finding the perfect balance of style and quality of the final image you deliver to us. When I say quality, I don’t mean “good or bad”—I’m referring to high quality, correctly exported, print-friendly files. This is where professional experience can be helpful. 

For example, let’s say you’re a painter, but you've never had your work captured digitally—it’s extremely unlikely that we’ll publish a cell phone photo of your canvas on an easel. Perhaps you’re a new photographer who has never printed your work before—figuring out whether your images have the correct DPI (dots per inch) might mean a lot of test prints and ultimate frustration if your original images are too grainy. Maybe you’re an illustrator working with pen and paper. Can you deliver clean, high-resolution scans? 

Now, if we really, really love the work, we’ll find a way to help you get the print files ready. But it helps to understand what we are asking for and why. In our submission calls, you’ll see that we ask artists to be upfront about their comfort level with delivering 300 DPI print files. It gets us on the same page so we can make sure your work looks great in print. 

Does Broccoli accept existing work or only new work? 
For most of our submission calls, we ask for both. We invite artists to submit existing images that we can license or pitches/concepts for projects they want to produce specifically for us. 

The parameters for each of these submissions are a little different. For existing images that we might license, we don’t require exclusivity. It’s also okay to submit images that have been published elsewhere, but it’s a good idea to tell us where/when they’ve been shared. 

For new concepts artists want us to commission, a slightly more robust pitch is required. Artists should describe their idea and introduce any collaborators (like stylists or set designers). Sometimes, these pitches are accompanied by a deck with inspiration images or sketches. Decks don’t have to be fancy—even a basic PDF created in Google Docs with some text and a couple images can help to show your vision. Quality of vision is what matters most. Fancier decks don’t make it more likely to get commissioned. 

Who owns the art? 
The artist always owns their work. Contributors to the magazine are asked to sign an agreement granting us permission to publish their work with credit in our magazines and in materials that help promote the magazine (think: a social media post, a newsletter, inclusion in a piece of press). 

How much do we pay for art? 
Rates depend on whether work is licensed or commissioned. 

For licensed work, we pay US$75 for a single image. If we’re licensing a series of images, we’ll offer a higher rate. 

For brand-new, commissioned work, rates vary depending on the scope of the project and the number of final images we need. 

Once the magazine is published, all contributors receive a free copy. 

Any red flags artists should avoid?
Broccoli publications are objects of beauty, and we come to art and visuals from a place of appreciation and curiosity. We’re not looking for art that leans into grotesque, body horror, or other subjects meant to challenge viewers or elicit uncomfortable feelings. Flipping through our pages should feel like wandering through a beautiful dream—it might be a little strange, but it’s not scary or stressful. 

All right, there you have it—an attempt to clarify the murky process of art directing a magazine made by Broccoli. If you have any questions, I’m happy to answer them in the comment section.

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