Inside the Studio: Cole DeVerlle
- Art Dealer Street
- 4 days ago
- 7 min read
Some artists develop a style; others develop a worldview. Cole DeVerlle does both. Moving between digital illustration, portraiture, and the vast analytical landscapes of geospatial science, DeVerlle creates images shaped as much by observation as imagination. His work sits at the crossroads of contrasts—between people and systems, instinct and structure, personal memory and global context. With a practice that draws from technology, travel, and human connection, his portraits become reflections of possibility: who we are, who we could be, and how environment, experience, and chance shape the stories we step into.
In this Inside the Studio feature, DeVerlle shares how early values informed his artistic sensibility, how science sharpened his ability to look deeper, and why the intersections between culture, identity, and place continue to anchor his work. His answers reveal an artist who listens closely—to people, to processes, and to the world itself—allowing each to influence the next mark he makes.
Read on to learn more in an exclusive interview with Cole DeVerlle :
Your bio describes you as being “drawn to contrasts.” What early experiences shaped that sensibility, and how does it show up in your portraits today?
Difficult to say, but I was taught to treat people how I wished to be treated in return—"the golden rule." A simple virtue that, in practice, may have naturally encouraged an openness toward understanding, respect, and connection with people from all walks of life. This has also perhaps allowed for greater self-awareness, personal development, and no doubt has shaped or influenced my interest in and appreciation for art, to some extent.
The Baroque Obama idea shared is one example of where I've explored this notion artistically—where I'm broadly asking whether or not people are destined to become who and what they're innately capable of, no matter the circumstance.
In the "Hope for Change" example, the protagonist is placed in a somewhat desperate and precarious scenario. We don't know who we’re walking past every day. Could we be stepping by someone capable of greatness, given the right opportunity, support, belief, kindness, and empathy? Or otherwise, are we more likely to pass judgment and condemn, rather than accept that these people may have simply fallen between the cracks of nature and nurture, and into misfortune?
You work at the intersection of art and geospatial/earth observation sciences. Can you share a moment when your space-tech work directly influenced a specific artwork or series?
While each, I would say, benefits from creative and abstract thinking, I've for the most part kept these worlds separate.
The sciences, like the arts, share a common pursuit: discovery—to challenge, refine, and expand our knowledge and understanding. Where political, social, or religious constructs can influence what we see, read, hear, and believe—true or not—the sciences and arts, while not completely free from these constraints, can act as a mirror or gateway to unbiased, unapologetic, objective reality.
As our world becomes smaller and more connected through globalisation and the rapid acceleration of the fourth industrial revolution—the digital age—work in geospatial and remote sensing becomes increasingly necessary for solving complex challenges at scale. We monitor and analyse the earth’s dynamic land and seascapes, applying mapping, surveying, and location-based approaches to environmental, social, and governance objectives, and aspirationally, toward achieving the UN’s global sustainable development goals. This includes working with organisations that mitigate environmental impacts of climate change; responding to or planning for natural disasters; protecting ecological biodiversity and habitats; and managing critical infrastructure and supply chains.
By contrast, my art is not quite as lofty as I may have made the above sound. I tend to (for now at least) reflect my personal interests, passions, ideas, and experiences. I've modelled some works on artists I’ve come to meet from other parts of the world. A tenuous link to the question, perhaps, but these specific experiences have influenced some of the work shared—two of which emerged from a conversation while meandering through Art Basel in Miami.
Portraiture is central to your practice and “distinctly illustrative” in approach. How do you build a portrait—from research and references to final marks—and what choices create your signature look?
In terms of my approach, I try to build out concepts that are dynamic, with movement, contrast, and depth. I won’t necessarily present a portrait in isolation, but aim to construct a scene with narrative.
My approach has evolved over time to suit the medium, and I will adjust my methods either intentionally or passively depending on my mood, or however my hand moves. I'm not rigid in this way, though subconsciously I may lean toward certain patterns—especially where some degree of problem-solving is needed.
I spent my early years drawing with ballpoint pens, pencils, and brushes. Using the former on paper or canvas—and sometimes my own skin—I’d start with an outline before detailing and contouring the figure, form, or pattern. Portraits varied from naturalistic to more illustrative interpretations. These were free-form and typically developed without references or structured methods like the Loomis technique. I use photographic references only to ensure the likeness of a person, or where elements must be rendered authentically.
Digitally, applications are intuitive yet robust. The stylus can emulate pencils, fountain pens, charcoal, paint brushes, or spray cans to create a seemingly endless variety of textures, filters, and effects. Depending on the desired style, I might shift toward movements more akin to painting—rendering the composition, working in colour, contrast, shape, form, and depth to achieve the desired outcome.
Where I aim to replicate someone’s likeness, I challenge myself to maintain the integrity of the source material—not only in appearance, but in feeling. Being “honest” with the reference, testing the output iteratively. Not all source material translates perfectly into every medium or context, so creative license is sometimes necessary to strike the right balance. Ultimately, realising the vision is paramount, and at times I’ll deviate in part or fully to achieve this.
Graphic design and advertising aesthetics appear in your compositions. What visual strategies from those worlds (layout, typography, color hierarchy) do you consciously borrow or subvert?
I do feel a connection to the graphic nature, composition, and narrative inherent in design, promotion, and advertising. The role, placement, and variety of each element in forming a composition—and the way they interact to bring a concept to life—can be immensely powerful and engaging.
In preparing a certain style, I may seek out examples for inspiration and context, but ultimately push to create freely, organically, and with originality. Unwittingly, this may see me stray from—or break—conventions and norms. I’d almost hope so to some extent, though of course I respect the craft and aim to make a positive contribution, for whatever that’s worth.
You’ve shown at Boomer Gallery (London), ArtistTalk Magazine’s London Underground exhibition, Art Week Miami, and Clio Art Fair (NYC, 2025). What did exhibiting at Clio Art Fair teach you about your audience and about yourself as an artist?
As Western ideals—including freedom of speech—are increasingly topical, artistic expression must also then be at risk. If today’s evolving socio-political, neo-democratic ideologies and the subtle rise of censorship, surveillance, and control were prevalent during the Renaissance or Baroque periods, it’s conceivable that much of the artistic output we now cherish might have been diminished or stifled. That is what’s at stake for generations ahead.
The Clio Art Fair, set in one of the world’s great cities, has established a platform that fights for independence, openness, and free expression—fundamental tenets of an inspired, motivated, and thriving artistic community.
For artists, this means having the space and support to realise their vision in their own voice. For audiences, it means an exhibition and experience that is diverse, varied, and accessible to everyone.
Many of your works engage with cultural collisions—architecture, sound, environments, people. How do you research or “map” those collisions before translating them into imagery?
For any concepts I develop, I actively research specific elements to ensure that what I create or represent maintains authenticity in its presentation, meaning, purpose, and placement—where it’s important to do so. This allows for greater thematic depth, gives more character and richness to the story, and pays respect to the subject and everything it represents.
I also aim to establish atmosphere and mood—with movement—to bring a scene to life, allowing for a sense of newness and discovery beyond the first or second viewing.
Looking ahead, what projects or themes are you developing next—any new mediums, site-specific ideas, or collaborations that merge data, mapping, and portraiture?
Much like my approach to life (for better or worse), I tend to move with the changing direction and speed of the wind or tide. I go with the flow. I likely need to concentrate on harnessing this energy, as it can be a tremendous, albeit quiet, force—but it has led me to many unique places.
I'm actively cycling through and loosely forming concepts at any given time, but for now I’m letting my artistic experiences drive the output itself. Some pieces have centred on artists I respect and admire, whom I've had the opportunity to meet. In those cases, I’ve shared my work with them personally, and they’ve done the same. These interactions have led to new pathways and potential collaborations.
I’ve spent much of my recent time in the digital realm and am enjoying the process. But I plan to return to the paintbrush—to explore still-illustrative forms, but also more abstract and expressionistic approaches… and to keep growing and evolving.
If a new viewer stood before your work for the first time, what one question would you want them to ask—and why?
"Isn't it remarkable that something so powerful and constant, yet vulnerable and precious, not only embraces you openly, but also gives you permission to leave with a piece that becomes, from that point forward, distinctly your own?"
People often want to know what a work means and why—what the artist was thinking. We're curious, of course, but it’s safer this way.
What I enjoy about the transcendent nature of art is that it can evoke emotions, interpretations, meanings—even memories—that are unique to the viewer. It can transport you somewhere unexpected, even deviating from the artist's original intent.
I don’t know if I'm currently producing art that inspires such a question or feeling, but I would certainly hope to. Time may tell.
What emerges most clearly from Cole DeVerlle’s practice is a commitment to curiosity—toward people, toward the spaces they occupy, and toward the forces that shape their paths. His work carries a quiet balance of research and intuition, blending technical precision with emotional resonance. Whether he is mapping landscapes from above or building portraits rooted in lived experience, DeVerlle approaches art as a way of asking honest questions: about identity, connection, and the collisions that define contemporary life.
As he continues to evolve—expanding his digital experiments, reconnecting with paint, and opening doors to new collaborations—his work remains grounded in the same guiding principle he mentioned at the beginning of this interview: treating people with understanding and empathy. In a world where noise often outweighs nuance, DeVerlle’s approach reminds us that looking closely, listening openly, and creating sincerely still matter.
You can learn more about Cole DeVerlle and his work via these links:
Website: https://coledeverlle.com/ Instagram: @cole_deverlle