shannon bulrice
Hi I’m Shannon—digitalist, designer, creative technologist. Fueled by curiosity, love, and a need to create things that feel a little strange.
I’ve spent my career helping creative teams breathe easier—bringing order to the chaos and intention to the work. My strength lies in bridging art and systems: blending creativity, clarity, and technology to make complex ideas flow simply.
After more than 20 years in design and marketing, I’ve learned that my real value isn’t just aesthetic—it’s emotional. I help people see their work more clearly, connect to their message more deeply, and move through the creative process without losing themselves in it.
These days, I lean into projects that value both heart and precision—where design isn’t just decoration, it’s communication. If you care about building something that feels human, intentional, and a little different, we’ll probably get along.
artist statement
Art has always been the language I trust most.
It’s how I’ve made sense of contradiction—chaos and comfort, grief and grace, silence and noise.
Since I was a kid, drawing and writing were the only ways I knew to translate what I felt. That instinct never left me. Creating is still how I process the world—through my hands, my heart, and whatever tools help me reach what words can’t.
My work lives somewhere between pop surrealism, lowbrow art, and punk energy. It’s a mix of tenderness and rebellion—strange, symbolic, and sometimes unsettling. The stories I tell through my characters explore transformation, memory, and the quiet power of vulnerability.
I spent more than 20 years in corporate design—fluent in all the Adobe tools and all the systems that make creativity feel like work. But in 2022, I discovered generative AI, and everything changed. Working with Midjourney, Photoshop, and Illustrator became less about production and more about play. For my ADHD brain, this hybrid process felt like freedom. It’s fast, intuitive, and deeply collaborative. AI isn’t a replacement for creativity—it’s a mirror. It reflects my imagination back at me in ways that challenge and expand it.
Much of my imagery draws from memory: big-eyed children like the ones that hung in my grandfather’s house, the heavy beauty of Catholic iconography, and the contradictions of faith, love, and control I grew up with. I was raised by my grandmother in a home shaped by mental illness and guilt, became a mother at sixteen, and learned early what both tenderness and survival look like. Those experiences still shape my work—the way light bends around pain, the way beauty grows in unlikely places.
I don’t create to provoke. I create to hold.
To make space for people who feel too much, for stories that don’t fit neatly, for the kind of softness that still has fight in it.
I believe everyone deserves to feel valid and free. That includes the characters in my art—especially those representing African American and LGBTQIA+ communities who are too often left out of the frame. My work centers them not as symbols, but as subjects—fully human, complex, and deserving of love.
At its core, my art is about empathy.
About the quiet power of being seen.
About reminding people that they are not alone in their contradictions.
Let’s Talk Us To
We are Transparent Like that. No Gimmicks.
