Let's get this out of the way: I use 3D models as a base for my 2D art. Some call it cheating. I call it my lifeline. It's the reason I can create and not just stare at a blank page in despair. So, how does it work?
My brain is wired a bit differently. I have aphantasia, which means I can't visualize things in my mind. Traditional sketching, for me, is a frustrating game of guesswork that often kills the joy of creation.
My 3D-to-2D pipeline solves this. It lets me see the result immediately—the perfect pose, the right lighting, the exact proportions and anatomy — before I even start painting. This isn't just a technique; it's what allows me to feel genuine excitement for the art I make.
My entire style, especially my love for glossy latex and neon light, was born from all of this.
Simplicity of Using
an Uncommon perspective
"Gobo" / Complex Lightning
Complex Enviroment / Props / Architecture
Reflective Materials (Latex, Metals, Mirrors)
Several Frames with Consistency
Vehicles
Armor / Weapon / Ammo
Transparent Materials (Glass, Water, Jelly)
I craft your OC in 3D, starting from one of my base model archetypes ( the sleek femboy, the brutish himbo, the thicc dommy mommy, you get the idea).
I sculpting heads of models by my own hands, body morphing inside of software (DAZ 3D Studio).
Clothes, features and acessories - 50/50 (some of them I finding in 3D assets' library, some I do with my hands too)
This lets me nail their look fast and accurately.
This is where 3D dominates. We can experiment with angles and compositions on the fly.
Hate the pose? We change it in seconds. No redrawing. No existential dread. Just the best possible frame for the action.
I set up the lights and shadows in 3D.
This gives me a perfect underpainting with realistic physics—how light reflects off latex or casts a dramatic shadow.
That depends on chosen style too, but latex is separate theme, which I hope, I will able to show via tutorial someday~
This is where I disappear for a while. I take the 3D render and paint over it, pouring all my skill, style, and soul into it. I add texture, emotion, and life.
And I often leave a subtle, deliberate trace of the 3D beneath—a signature of my method. I'm not hiding it.
A quick, honest note on the 3D models themselves: they are my tools, not products. I built them to be painted over, not animated or used in other software. They're janky under the hood—no fancy face rigs, a nightmare to export. So I don't sell them as finished 3D assets. They're my sketchbook, not a commodity.
But I'm learning. My dream is to someday build full, animatable models for even hotter content. For now, they serve one purpose: making your 2D art impeccable.
Your model is yours. If you commission me again, I'll use it and give you a 5% discount because it makes my life easier.
My moral code is simple: "don't be a dick." I will never use your OC without your explicit blessing.
Once, a client thought their character looked too similar to a base—I immediately tore it apart and remade it from scratch. Your trust is the one thing I won't compromise on.
This method is my anchor.
On most days, it pulls me out of the creative void and lets me do the one thing I love: make art that resonates. On others, its weight threatens to drag me down whenever I doubt if my way of making art is "valid."
But here's the truth: ordering from me isn't just getting a picture. It's getting a piece that's precise, personal, and born from a process that keeps the artist (me) from spiraling.
It's far from soulless—on the contrary, it's filled with the effort and heart of someone who has to fight.
So yeah. That's how it works. And that's why it matters.
A: This is where the 'soul' is injected. The 3D base is just a mannequin—I paint over every single inch of it, adding texture, light, emotion, and all the tiny details that make it art. The final piece is 100% hand-painted and bears my unique style. I leave a hint of the 3D on purpose; it's my signature, not a secret.
A: While I use archetypes as a starting point to ensure accuracy, your model is heavily customized. I tweak everything—face/head structure, body proportions, unique scars, tattoos, specific outfit details—until it's unmistakably yours. The base is just a skeleton; I build your OC's unique look on top of it.
A: Your OC is yours. Full stop. The model I create for you is stored in a separate 'client vault' and is never touched for any other purpose without your explicit, written permission. My reputation is built on trust, and I guard it fiercely.
A: This is a crucial point: you are commissioning a 2D artwork. The 3D model is my internal tool to create it. It's not a finished, rigged, or export-friendly asset—it's a bespoke digital mannequin, often messy under the hood and useless outside of my specific software setup. Think of it like an artist's preliminary sketch: it's part of the process, not the final product for sale.
A: My style is a hybrid one by design. While I paint over the render extensively, a subtle, stylistic hint of the three-dimensional base often remains—it's part of the aesthetic I'm known for. If you're looking for 100% traditional art, I might not be the right artist for your project. But if you want precision, dynamic angles, and a unique shiny style, you're in the right place.
A: Shortly, and yes, and no~
Unlike traditional artists who would have to redraw everything from scratch, I can change the pose, camera angle, or even lighting in minutes - yes, the 3D stage gives us incredible flexibility to experiment until it's perfect.
But here's the deal: the 3D base is the skeleton. Once I start adding the muscles, skin, and details in the 2D phase, it becomes incredibly painful to go back and change the bones. So please, think twice before approving the 'sketch'—it saves us both a headache and saves your wallet from extra charges for rebuilding the foundation.
A: The 3D base saves me from the creative despair of a blank page, but it doesn't paint the picture for me. The vast majority of the time (and skill) goes into the high-detail painting, texturing, and lighting in the 2D phase. You're paying for my years of experience, my unique style, and the countless hours I spend painting, not just posing. The 3D tool allows me to channel all my energy into what truly matters: the final artwork's quality.
A: Quite the opposite. The 3D model is a flawed tool—it's my job to fix its anatomical bugs and make it look alive. This constant correction is like a daily anatomy drill. My foundational skills from life drawing are what allow me to use the tool correctly, not the other way around.
Sorry, this is a sore subject with one of my colleagues, so I'll break it down in more detail:
DETAILED CONCERN:
If you rely so heavily on 3D, doesn't that risk making your 2D skills 'rusty'? I've seen that 3D models can have weird anatomical bugs and artifacts. If you don't constantly practice drawing from life and learning real anatomy to fix those, couldn't the overall quality eventually suffer? How do you keep your core skills sharp?
DETAILED ANSWER:
It's absolutely right—a 3D model is just a tool, and a flawed one at that. It knows nothing about anatomy, storytelling, or emotion. It's just geometry and math. Without a strong foundational knowledge, you can't use it effectively. You'd just be tracing its mistakes, and the art would look stiff and 'off.'
Here's how I bridge that gap:
The Foundation Comes First: My understanding of anatomy, light, and form wasn't learned from 3D software; it was built through years of life drawing, studying muscle groups, and analyzing the work of classical and contemporary masters. The 3D model provides the initial structure, but my brain, trained in real anatomy, is the editor that corrects and refines it. I don't just accept what it gives me; I bend it to my will.
The 'Bug' is the Feature: Those anatomical 'bugs' you mentioned are actually one of the biggest reasons my process works.
A flawed 3D model forces me to problem-solve. I can't just passively trace. I have to constantly ask: 'Why does that shadow look wrong? Why does that muscle insertion look unnatural?' This active, critical process of fixing the model's mistakes is, in itself, a relentless exercise in anatomical drawing. It keeps my skills engaged and sharp on every single piece.
The Best of Both Worlds: So, in the end, you're not getting an artist who is dependent on 3D. You're getting an artist who uses 3D as a powerful assistant. I bring the artistic wisdom; it brings the perspective grids. This allows me to focus my energy and skill not on the tedious, repetitive task of building a perfect human form from scratch every time, but on what truly matters: the expression, the mood and the storytelling that makes the piece uniquely yours.
In short, the 3D model doesn't replace my knowledge—it relies on it. And it constantly tests it, ensuring I never get complacent.