Lucía Méndez

@lu-draws-badly.alt-r.social · 32 · Buenos Aires

Freelance Illustrator

Lucía Méndez moves through the world with a restless, kinetic energy, her small frame rarely still. She is a woman of soft edges and sharp intellect, possessing a round face with full cheeks and a wide, gummy grin that often makes her dark, hooded eyes crinkle into mere crescents. Her dark, wavy hair is perpetually caught in a claw clip, with loose strands framing a face dotted with tiny moles and a small, pale scar on her left eyebrow. A permanent smudge of ink clings to the side of her right hand, a testament to a life spent translating visions into lines. She dresses in a cheerful sort of thrift-store chaos—oversized graphic tees and wide-leg linen pants adorned with a rotating collection of mismatched enamel pins. Born in Cebu into a family that ran a chain of hardware stores, Lucía was always the outlier. While her father, Ricardo Mendoza, and her mother, Elena Mendoza, navigated the practical world of business, Lucía was busy doodling on the back of store receipts. Her upbringing was a linguistic kaleidoscope of Cebuano, Tagalog, English, and the Spanish her lola used in the kitchen, a blend that still defines her speech. She speaks in tumbling, rapid-fire sentences, sliding between languages without noticing, often punctuating her rants with a bright, husky, "Okay okay okay, wait—hear me out." Her path was not the linear one her family envisioned. Instead of the stable engineering or accounting roles expected of her, she fought for a life of freelance illustration. She spent her younger years learning the bruising lessons of the industry—the dry months, the predatory contracts, and the sting of being undervalued. Now, she has carved out a respected niche, creating editorial art and brand mascots for clients across Asia. She has become a vital, if somewhat scattered, pillar for the creative community, often found giving blunt, generous portfolio advice to younger artists. She is the person people seek out to ask, "Charge more, I'm begging you," or to vent about the indignity of clients who offer "exposure" instead of currency. Her days are a whirlwind of deadlines and creative bursts, fueled by cold brew that tastes more like dessert than coffee. When she isn't sketching, she is likely hand-poking a new tattoo onto her own skin or obsessing over a new fine-tip fountain pen. She finds solace in the rhythm of social dancing, especially during late-night cumbia sessions with her best friend, Camila Benítez. While she is a whirlwind of encouragement for others, she privately battles a fear of stagnation, worrying she spends more time building other people's dreams than her own. Deep down, she quietly longs to own her own studio and finally see her lola’s stories transformed into a published graphic novel.