Today we’d like to introduce you to Valentina Maggi.
Hi Valentina, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
I never set out to become a children’s book illustrator. Growing up in Caracas, Venezuela, I wasn’t that kid who was labeled as the ‘talented drawer.’ I didn’t fit the mold of a kid who’d been sketching since they could hold a pencil. But I was always a curious soul — endlessly fascinated by the world around me. My mom nurtured that curiosity by taking me to book fairs and reading me the stories I chose each night. I can still recall those evenings vividly — her voice weaving tales while I stared at the illustrations, each one a little world of its own.
Books became my little escape, a place where the world felt softer and life felt a little bit kinder, even on the toughest days. Drawing was never intentional; it was something I did when I felt sad or lost, a quiet, intuitive act that made the world make sense again.
After high school, I felt directionless. I wanted to study philosophy and literature, to dive into the world of words and ideas, but the school was too far away, and the city was too dangerous by that time. My father said no. I also loved singing, so I secretly saved $40 with the help of my aunt and auditioned for a music theater program in New York. A friend recorded me at her house. I wasn’t accepted.
Another step in the journey, another lesson in resilience. My parents saw me as a lost teenager — aimless, uninspired. They suggested I study industrial design. I was disheartened but resigned. Then, during my classes, I discovered the illustration and design program. Something clicked. Images of the books my mom used to read me flooded back. I remembered the way the light hit the paper in those illustrations, the way the pictures told the story even when the words stopped. For the first time, I thought, maybe I could do this for the rest of my life.
But self-doubt crept in. You’re not good enough. You didn’t start drawing at five like everyone else. You’ll never catch up. But then a stronger voice emerged — one that said, You were born an artist. Your heart is your guide. So, I took a chance on myself. There were tears, late nights, countless sketches crumpled and tossed, moments of feeling like a fraud. But there was also persistence. In college, I learned not just how to draw but how to draw with a broken heart. I learned that as long as I’m breathing, I have inspiration to illustrate.
Venezuela was in turmoil. Protests echoed through the streets, the air heavy with tear gas that even seeped into my backyard. People were threatened for thinking differently. I was threatened for standing up for my rights. I couldn’t get to class because the streets were dangerous and blocked, and even after I graduated, finding food became a daily battle, we had to do looong lines to get bread. I tried to stay. I tried to keep illustrating my feelings, the mountain I loved — Avila, the one that hugged the city and felt like my only constant. But life became too heavy, too dangerous. I had to leave.
So, I left behind my mom, my grandparents, my aunt, my dad, my brother, my cat, my home — everything that had ever made me feel like me. I came to Orlando with nothing but a powerful dream and a heart full of hope. For two years, I felt like a little paper boat floating in a vast, unknown sea, searching for my place, my passion, and the art that once made me feel whole. I was searching for my place, my passion, my way back to the art that once made me feel at home. I didn’t know how to make a living as an illustrator. For 14 hours a day, I worked as a locksmith, driving through unfamiliar streets to help strangers open their doors, while still holding onto the hope that one day, art would be my full-time path. I kept a peppermint spray in my pocket, a small piece of security in an unfamiliar world. And then, after not stopping I got a job illustrating for a poster on social media for Disney Animation and after that I was hired by an artist company at Disney World. After all the heartbreak and uncertainty, I was creating art for the most magical place on earth, and in those moments, it felt like a little piece of the dream had come true.
Now, three years later, the dream has evolved. Disney is wonderful, but it’s not the reason I became an illustrator. I want to pour my heart into illustrating children’s books — to craft stories that feel like warm hugs, that remind kids they’re never truly alone, no matter what life throws at them. Because books gave me hope when I had none. They made me believe in the power of storytelling, the way a single illustration can reach across borders and touch a heart.
Now, my mission is to sprinkle a little bit of magic onto every page — to create stories that help kids feel seen, understood, and less alone. I want to give kids in Venezuela access to the kind of books that shaped me, to remind them that even in the darkest times, there are stories that can light the way.
And one day, I hope to hand a book I’ve illustrated to my mom, to thank her for those nights when she read to me, her voice carrying me to worlds far beyond the room we shared. It’s been five years since I’ve seen her. I don’t know when I will again. But until that day comes, I’ll keep illustrating — because each line and each color keeps me connected to her, to my roots, to the mountain, and to the dreamer I once was and still am.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
No, the road has not been smooth. Beyond the obvious struggles of adapting to a new country and starting over professionally, one of the biggest challenges has been navigating the emotional weight of being away from my family while trying to build a life in Orlando.
There were days when self-doubt was louder than any external encouragement, and it felt like I was chasing a dream that kept slipping further away. I had to learn to believe in my work and my voice as an artist, even when it felt like no one else could see what I was trying to create.
Financially, it was tough too. Working 14-hour days as a locksmith was exhausting, and it often felt like art was just a distant dream rather than a viable career. But in those moments, I clung to my illustrations, using them as a way to stay connected to my roots and to remind myself why I started in the first place.
Even now, as I work toward dedicating myself fully to illustrating children’s books, there are still moments of uncertainty. But every challenge has been a chance to redefine what success means to me, and I’ve learned that as long as I keep creating, I’m already on the right path.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I specialize in creating vibrant, emotionally rich illustrations that bring stories to life. My work is characterized by bold, striking color palettes that evoke emotion and transport readers into immersive worlds. But what truly sets me apart is my versatility. I’m not married to one style of illustration — I believe that every story has its own visual language, and I love the challenge of adapting my art to fit different narratives, whether it’s whimsical, dramatic, or tender.
For me, storytelling is more than just words and pictures; it’s about capturing the essence of a moment, a feeling, or a memory and making it tangible through art. I want my illustrations to connect with people on a deeper level, to create those unforgettable moments that linger long after the book is closed.
I’m most proud of my ability to take life’s experiences — the highs, the lows, the moments of uncertainty — and channel them into art that resonates with both kids and adults. My journey as an illustrator has been anything but traditional, but that’s what gives my work its heart and soul. Whether it’s creating magical worlds for children’s books or visually interpreting powerful stories, my goal is to make every illustration a vivid, memorable experience.
Any advice for finding a mentor or networking in general?
Before looking for a mentor, the most important step is to believe in the mentor that’s already within you — your intuition, your unique voice, and the talent that you were born with. There’s a lot of noise out there, but if you don’t first connect with that inner guide and trust that your work is valuable and worth sharing, no mentor will make you feel secure about the purpose of your art.
Art is powerful because it connects us to ourselves and to others. We were all born as artists — some of us just took on the mission to keep creating, to keep building those bridges to the soul. When you do seek a mentor, look for someone whose work resonates deeply with you, someone whose path reflects a kind of integrity and passion that aligns with your vision.
For me, some of the best connections have come from reaching out to artists I admire, asking genuine questions, and sharing my story without expecting anything in return. Authenticity opens doors. It’s not just about finding someone who can give you opportunities; it’s about finding someone who sees and values the heart in your work — and helps you keep believing in it, too.
Pricing:
- Books illustrations could go from $300 to $5000 depends on how many pages.
- Book cover $120
- Customized illustrations for short stories of four pages for gifts $400
- Oil painting portraits 18×24 $2200
- Digital portraits of two $160
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.behance.net/VA_maggiflavor
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maggiflavor/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Maggiflavor/
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/valentina-maggi-024a4618a
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@PrendidaEnFuego
