Drawing The Pre-Raphaelites

Posted by Salvador Castío

In the Studio, May 2025. Photograph by Allyce Castillo ©2025.

For more than four decades, my work has been shaped by the Pre-Raphaelites, particularly the art of Edward Burne-Jones and the broader Symbolist and fin de siècle traditions. The essay below, published in the Summer 2025 issue of The PRS Review as the inaugural entry in the series In an Artist’s Studio, outlines the development of that influence across my artistic life.

In it, I trace the trajectory from my early encounters with the movement to my contemporary practice as a draughtsman working consciously within — and extending — this tradition. I offer it here as a concise record of the evolution that brought me to my present aesthetic and the principles that continue to guide my work.

In 1982, when I was sixteen, I was an aspiring young artist living in California’s flat, sun-baked, agriculturally dense Central Valley, the most unlikely place to fall in love with the Pre-Raphaelites. It was there that I discovered the illustration monograph, The Studio that chronicled the formation of the famed New York City collective made up of fantasists Jeffery Catherine Jones, Michael William Kaluta, Barry Windsor-Smith, and Bernie Wrightson, which led to my profound interest in The Pre-Raphaelites. In his chapter, artist Barry Windsor-Smith spoke of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, citing Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Edward Burne-Jones, JW Waterhouse, and Frederick Leighton as key influences on his work. Windsor-Smith’s Pre-Raphaelite-inspired style was new to me; it proved to be a sign in the road that galvanized me to seek out and learn more about the names he mentioned.

Mystery

Soon after, I discovered Christopher Wood’s seminal book The Pre-Raphaelites. That oversized tome continued the evolution that began with  The Studio. At a glance, the image on its cover, Burne-Jones’s The Mirror of Venus, conveyed what was artistically possible and a direction; it also led me further down the path of fine art inspired by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

Over the ensuing years, I continued to improve my work, graduated from art school, and began working professionally. During that time, I, like many artists, spent energy attempting to find “my style.” As always, the Pre-Raphaelites remained in the background, gently haunting me. Even though I yearned to embrace their aesthetic, I held myself back because I knew my work needed to be world-class to be worthy of their legacy.

In 2000, I had the opportunity to travel to the UK to show menu designs to a friend who had plans to open a café bookstore in Central London. During my stay, I had the opportunity to visit Tate Britain and see the work of the Pre-Raphaelites. The impact was profound. Standing in front of Millais’s Ophelia, Waterhouse’s The Lady of Shalott, and Burne-Jones’s King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid was nothing short of a religious experience that deepened my longing to commit to the aesthetic I had loved for so long. 

In the years following, personal hurdles began to pile up—life circumstances, grief, and a myriad of other distractions. Due to this, I drifted from my work and considered giving up on the artistic vision I had nourished since adolescence. Still, I kept drawing, even though the work felt directionless. My skill had diminished, and my standards had slipped, but fierce resolve and perseverance kept me going. I knew things had to change, and after some genuine soul-searching, I found the answer I sought. To feel fulfilled, I had to return to where it all started: the Pre-Raphaelites, not as a nostalgic echo but as the foundation of my work. I began rebuilding, refining my skill, raising my standards, and constructing a personal ideology that would allow me to carry the Pre-Raphaelite tradition into the present while making it my own. 

Fanny Eaton

Everything finally culminated in the summer of 2022 when I read Andrea Wolk Rager’s The Radical Vision of Edward Burne-Jones. Her brilliant reinterpretation of Burne-Jones’s oeuvre was the blueprint I had been seeking. Her scholarship illuminated Burne-Jones’s subtle but radical condemnations of environmental destruction, economic inequality, and empire. Her book gave me the intellectual and creative permission I had been waiting for. It proved that the Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic could be a vehicle for contemporary relevance, not just homage. The style I have embraced continues to evolve as I slowly incorporate the ideas and themes I’ve mentioned. My drawings, Mystery, and my portrait of Fanny Eaton, pictured in this article, reflect the two sides of the style I have embraced. In Mystery, you see the ethereal and dreamlike nature so prominent in the work of the PRB, and in my portrait of Fanny Eaton, you see diversity and a global point of view.

Burne-Jones has always felt like a kindred spirit. Like me, he was an only child born to humble beginnings and shaped by the presence of a single parent. He drew to survive, to understand, to transcend. Although his sense of design and draughtsmanship have been lifelong inspirations, his painted work has spoken even more profoundly to me. Works such as The Mirror of Venus and King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid resonated most with me⏤his ability to use beauty and allegory to condemn the status quo and imagination and visual lyricism to sweep you away to what he called “a land no one can define or remember, only desire.” Burne-Jones has taught me that beauty has the power to be both ornament and epiphany. That runs through everything I create now. 

This belief also informs my process. My new work always begins with an idea from something I’ve dreamed, imagined, read, listened to, or watched. Creating a new drawing starts in the pages of my sketchbook as a series of thumbnails that are transferred and developed on tracing paper, where I work through multiple layers until my composition feels right. Once I feel confident with my preliminary drawing, I transfer it to a sheet of 4-ply Bristol board. At this stage, I examine every detail with extreme precision. If something doesn’t feel right, I create separate studies or technique roughs until I resolve the issue.

Entre Sombras II

Then begins the slow, tedious process of drawing my design in ink, using mostly Rapidograph technical pens, building linework with patience and precision. Light, shadow, and value gradually develop through dense crosshatching and layered textures. Depending on the complexity, a single drawing can take over 40 hours. Once finished, minor flaws get corrected with white gouache. My process is slow by design, reflecting the same belief held by the Pre-Raphaelites: that care and intention matter in making an image.

Through my work, I aim to extend the visual language of the Pre-Raphaelites into the present. I draw from the PRB and the designers and artists of the fin de siècle and filter their legacy through a contemporary lens focused on creating work with genuine intent and a higher purpose beyond commodification that celebrates global culture and spotlights social concerns. The prescience, deeper meaning, and radical nature of Burne-Jones’s work revealed in Dr. Rager’s book have provided me with a framework to follow that allows me to express my own global point of view and concerns regarding environmental destruction, income inequality, and social injustice. 

La Maja Soñadora

The Pre-Raphaelites presented me with an artistic vision that changed everything. The bar they set in my formative years has been a constant in my life, and Edward Burne-Jones’s work has continued to be a guiding light on the artistic road I am traveling. My work has undergone many changes since discovering the PRB; through years of trial and error, I have achieved a level of mastery in my draughtsmanship that has allowed me to confidently embrace an aesthetic inspired by the Pre-Raphaelites and the designers and artists of the fin de siècle. The merging of a PRB aesthetic and an ideology that reflects my worldview has finally allowed me to become the artist I envisioned when, at sixteen, I first encountered The Studio—and then, not long after, opened The Pre-Raphaelites by Christopher Wood and saw, perhaps for the first time, who I truly was.

Originally published in The PRS Review (Summer 2025) as part of In an Artist’s Studio, edited by Dr. Zaynub Zaman. Reproduced with gratitude to the Pre-Raphaelite Society.

For copies of the PRS Review and membership details, visit the Pre-Raphaelite Society

 

The Evolution of Mystery

Posted by Salvador Castío

Mystery. 2025. Pen and ink on paper. 9″x12″.

The creation of a new piece of work unfolds in ways most people never imagine. It’s nonlinear, unpredictable, and refuses to adhere to routine. This isn’t a recipe for paella, it’s the act of conjuring something from nothing.

My Lagan Love from 1985 UK 12″ of Cloudbusting by Kate Bush.

In past blog posts, when I’ve written about creating new work, I’ve fallen back on the same worn-out playbook, offering a play-by-play of pencils, pens, and technique. That approach has never done a damn thing for anyone, let alone provided any real insight into my process. It’s been nothing more than a polished façade, a false account of what it truly means to create something from nothing.

The changes my work has undergone over the past few years make it impossible for me to present anything but the raw truth behind what I do. Speaking that truth is essential to where I am now and what I create. The creative process is messy, complex, and rarely linear; it’s not a fucking Disney movie.

My drawing Mystery began as a ball of frustration after the worst bout of creative stasis I’ve ever experienced. 2024 started as a long list of projects that would move me closer to my goals, but life had other plans. In the past, whenever I’ve experienced rough patches on my journey, I’ve always turned to music to get me through; it’s never let me down. In 2005, after losing my mom and my way, I reached out to Hounds of Love, London Calling, and Point of Entry for salvation. The sounds on those albums were a balm for my mind during the bleakest period of my life.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s haunting study of Jane for Astarte Syriaca.

This time, the rescue came quietly, almost by accident. One night, after weeks of aimless sketching and abandoned starts, I sat in my petite atelier listening to Kate Bush’s reinterpretation of the traditional Irish air My Lagan Love. Stark and unaccompanied, her magnificent voice rose like a prayer in a vast, empty cathedral. Its resonance and haunting stillness carried the same ethereal quality and mystery that had first drawn me to the Pre-Raphaelites decades ago. Not long after that moment, I came across I Can’t Sleep from Wang Chung’s 1982 debut album. Its enigmatic tone, paired with the solemn beauty of My Lagan Love, reminded me of what had fueled my fascination with the Pre-Raphaelites from the beginning: beautiful mystery.

Alongside music, images play a vital role in sparking the creation of new work. In the case of Mystery, I recalled the sublime portraits of Jane Morris by Rossetti and a magnificent photograph by Clive Arrowsmith of Kate Bush–her face framed by leaves in a distinctly Pre-Raphaelite manner. Combined with the songs I’d been listening to, an image began to emerge, slowly, insistently. What followed was a long, deliberate stretch of hard graft: translating emotion and idea into form on paper.

Kate Bush at her most Pre-Raphaelite by Clive Arrowsmith. Photo ©2025 Clive Arrowsmith.

The creative stasis I endured in 2024 was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I’d weathered dry spells in the past, but never one so long and so sustained. Still, I’ve come to see that every pause, every obstacle, has its purpose. The path of artistic growth always comes at a price.

As Mystery began to take shape, every mark I made carried the weight of my desire to excel and create something undeniable, something that bore witness to the struggle that preceded it.

A clear idea, a balanced composition, and solid drawing are essential to any new image. There must always be rhythm as well as weight in what you put down. What has always resonated with me about the Pre-Raphaelites’ work is the brilliance of their draughtsmanship and the precision behind their iconic images. Everything they created, whether an oil on canvas or a design in pen and ink, began with sketches and studies in pencil. They worked out every facet. Their pictures were born of a deep, genuine love of drawing and painting, a truth reflected in every mark and brushstroke. Their draughtsmanship set the bar when I first discovered the Brotherhood at sixteen, and it remains the standard I hold myself to today. I will never compromise my standards.

Mystery in-progress pencil preliminary.

​Mystery is a chronicle of struggle and triumph, captured in exacting pen strokes and lush crosshatching. When I began the drawing, I had no idea what would emerge after the weeks of work required to bring my idea to life. Starting was a tentative step after a year of stasis, but as always, I found solace in the long, deliberate process of creation. The act of building form through a profusion of crosshatching and the feel of the pen nib etching ink into the surface of the paper has always carried a kind of therapeutic magic, capable of dissolving whatever hurdle stands in my way.

Whenever I complete a drawing, I’m always surprised by what I see when I finally step back. It’s one thing to sense the potential in an idea; it’s another to bring it fully to life. After weeks of work, I stepped away from the drawing table and looked hard at what I had made. My gut told me I had created something powerful. Maybe.

That intuition found its echo when my wife walked into the studio to see the finished piece. The look on her face said everything: “This is my favorite of all the newer, Pre-Raphaelite-inspired work you’ve done. “She isn’t one to mince words, so perhaps my instincts had been right all along. The moment that confirmed what we both felt came unexpectedly, weeks later, when Dr. Zaynub Zaman, editor of the Pre-Raphaelite Society’s journal, the PRS Review, emailed to offer me the opportunity to help inaugurate her new series, In an Artist’s Studio. To say I was gobsmacked would be an understatement. In an instant, Dr. Zaman validated years of effort and sacrifice and gave the voice I’d long been searching for new depth and resonance.

 

• Pre-Raphaelite Society’s PRS Review subscriptions

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Defiance On Paper

Posted by Salvador Castío

Fanny Eaton (After Fryer Stocks). 2025. Pen and ink on paper. 9″x12″.

My work is defiance on paper. I am not here to chase trends or court popularity—I am here to be myself. And being yourself means going against expectations. Declaring self-autonomy always comes with a generous cup of take it or leave it.

Over the years, I’ve come to see that defiance takes many forms—but at its core, it’s an attitude. For me, defiance has meant doing something most people are unwilling to do: playing the long game. It means pursuing a decades-long vision, holding myself to a world-class standard, embracing a global outlook, creating traditional art, and committing to black-and-white drawing in ink on paper. The recent publication of In An Artist’s Studio, an article on my work, has validated all of these things.

Defiance also lives in what you choose to draw. In recent years, I’ve been drawn to spotlight the downtrodden, the overlooked, the less valued, and the innocent victims of violence. It’s not the most glamorous path, but it resonates deeply with me. At some point, I realized there had to be more than kitchen utensils or coffeehouse patrons nursing five-dollar lattes. I pursued that for a time—but eventually, the novelty wore off. Sketchbook artist is not what I am.

Fanny Matilda Eaton (1835–1924) was a Jamaican-born, London-raised woman of color who lived in Victorian England and posed for members and associates of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. She appears in several notable works, including Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s The Beloved (1862), John Everett Millais’s The Pearl of Great Price (1860), and Simeon Solomon’s The Mother of Moses (1860), where she made her public debut. Beyond these paintings, Fanny was also the subject of numerous drawings and studies. Two that stand out are Rossetti’s magnificent pencil Study of a Young Woman (c. 1865) and Walter Fryer Stocks’s 1859 colored chalk drawing, which I used as a reference for my own portrait of Fanny.

I had long known that women of color had posed for the Pre-Raphaelites, but their names remained unknown to me. Fanny Eaton is the first Black model of the PRB whose name I’ve come to know. Her story has come into focus thanks to the investigative work of her great-grandson, Brian Eaton, who published Fanny Eaton’s Story in 2024. And yet, despite the publication of this book and a growing interest in her legacy, Fanny remains an enigma—like so many women whose lives were essential but unrecorded in the history of art.

Although some critics still try to dismiss the Pre-Raphaelites as an irrelevant niche Victorian art movement, it’s increasingly clear that the Pre-Raphaelites’ vision was broader and richer than their critiques suggest. A multicultural thread runs through their work—and through the lives of those who shaped it. Fanny is a prominent example. So is Dante Gabriel Rossetti, son of Italian immigrants and co-founder of the Brotherhood. Maria Zambaco, from London’s Anglo-Greek community, posed for many of Burne-Jones’s most iconic paintings. At the same time, her cousin, painter Maria Spartali Stillman, contributed significant works to the Pre-Raphaelite canon. All of these people have contributed to the rich, cultural, and diverse mélange that makes up Pre-Raphaelitism.

There are also quietly powerful undercurrents of LGBTQ presence and acceptance. Painter Simeon Solomon, who introduced Fanny to the public in The Mother of Moses, was part of that lineage—and contributed significantly to the Brotherhood’s visual language.

It is an exciting time for the Pre-Raphaelites and their kindred movements. As AI and digital technologies continue to proliferate, I believe the desire for traditional art—created with genuine intent and a purpose beyond commodification—will only grow. People are hungry for work that resists the algorithm, that refuses to pander to pop culture, that slows time instead of accelerating it.

It is in that quiet rebellion—in that defiance—that my work finds its place.

 

The portrait of Fanny Eaton in this post first appeared in the article, In An Artist’s Studio, in the summer 2025 issue of the PRS Review, published by the Pre-Raphaelite Society in the UK.

For more information on the Pre-Raphaelite Society, visit: preraphaelitesociety.org

For more information on Fanny, visit: wikipedia.org

 

Beautiful Rebellion

Posted by Salvador Castío

Beautiful Rebellion. 2025. Pen and ink on paper. 9″x12″. 

A year ago, I was mired in a creativity-crushing stasis that all but strangled my productivity. Today, that paralysis has given way to triumph: I am the subject of a six-page feature in the summer 2025 issue of the Pre-Raphaelite Society’s journal, the PRS Review. Months ago, a dear friend remarked, “This article will be your introduction as an artist. You’ve always wanted your work recognized internationally—now it’s happening.”

I’ve always believed you can’t be a prophet in your own land.

The turning point came with my drawing Mystery, created at the tail end of that long, suffocating stretch as I fought to free myself from the grip of stasis. Its completion marked a new plateau. My embrace of a Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic, which began with Entre Sombras in 2022, had reached a higher level, giving me the means to express my authentic voice. That evolution did not go unnoticed.

In March of this year, I was contacted by Dr. Zaynub Zaman, editor of the PRS Review, regarding my submission to the Society’s annual art competition. She told me that my drawing, Mystery, had not been selected, but added, “However, I loved your drawing and would like to use it for something else.” Those words marked the beginning of something far more meaningful. A few weeks later, her follow-up email arrived with an opportunity that would change everything and validate my struggles and sacrifices. She was preparing to launch a new series, In an Artist’s Studio, designed to give readers a glimpse into the creative process—and she wanted me to help introduce it.

In the end, it wasn’t about winning—it was about being seen and being understood.

Suddenly, four decades of effort and sacrifice took on new meaning. In an Artist’s Studio was originally planned as a modest two-page spread: a short introduction to my work accompanied by four drawings. The request was for 500 words, but that could never contain my decades-long obsession with the Pre-Raphaelites. After wrestling with the limitations, I reached out to Dr. Zaman, who graciously doubled the word count. That expansion gave me the room not only to chart my journey, but also to make a clear, definitive statement about who I am as an artist—something that was long overdue.

For the next three months, I waited with bated breath, wondering how the published feature would take shape and hoping my words and drawings would translate on the page. The result exceeded every expectation: six full pages showcasing my work as never before. Every line, every word, every stroke found its place. Back in March, I could never have imagined what I now hold in my hands.

The picture that adorns this post, Beautiful Rebellion, is an expression of transformation and defiance—a continuation of the path my work has taken since 2022. In that time, my art has undergone a crucial shift. I have embraced an aesthetic that allows me to speak in my authentic voice, while making clear that my work is rooted in the tradition of hand-drawn art. I draw on paper with ink; I am a draughtsman, and that will never change. As AI and digital images proliferate, the hunger for hand-drawn work will only grow. People want art made with genuine intent, work that speaks to the heart and mind, created with a higher purpose beyond commodification.

Visually, I drew inspiration from Dante Gabriel Rossetti, painter, poet, and co-founder of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. His women are unmistakable: abundant hair, full sensual lips, and that iconic heavy-lidded gaze so prevalent throughout the work of the PRB. Yet Beautiful Rebellion is layered with more than Rossetti’s influence. William Morris also enters the picture. His 1866 wallpaper design, Fruit, plays a crucial role in my drawing and its story of transformation. The thrush perched in the corner adds its own voice to the piece—an emblem of the inner fulfillment I have found through committing to this chosen path. Beautiful Rebellion is a complete statement: this is who I am.

In many ways, it stands as the clearest expression of where my journey has brought me. It carries the echoes of Rossetti, Morris, and the mythic symbols they cherished, but it also declares my refusal to bow to the belief that technology is the only way forward. That defiance—my insistence on embracing tradition and reshaping it into something through which my authentic voice can shine—is precisely what made the PRS Review feature so meaningful. Seeing my work presented in those six pages was not only validation, but also proof that the long struggle had forged something enduring.

Decades of struggle have led me here, but this is not the end of the road. In an Artist’s Studio is proof that I was right to defy compromise and hold out for world-class recognition. I have found my voice—and what comes next will not be louder merely, but undeniable.

 

Back On The Edge

Posted by Salvador Castío
Otis Parsons 1985 Catalog

Forty years ago, I stood on the edge of the most significant chapter of my young life—preparing to move to Los Angeles to attend Otis Art Institute of Parsons School of Design. I was nineteen—naïve, brimming with piss and vinegar—and hell-bent on getting into Parsons’ exchange program so I could study at the American College in Paris. My nerves were on fire, but I knew this was the step I had to take. Even then, before I could name it, I carried the same thing I carry now: the unshakable belief that world-class was the only option.

Not everything went as planned—when Parsons didn’t work out, I headed to San Francisco the following year to attend the Academy of Art College, where I completed my education in 1992. Despite the passage of time, my obstinance and resolve haven’t faded. Today, I’m back on that edge—older, sharper, and feeling the same electric hum under my skin.

Academy of Art Logo

That edge I’m standing on now has a name: Drawing the Pre-Raphaelites, a five-page article in the summer 2025 issue of the Pre-Raphaelite Society’s journal, the PRS Review. It’s a milestone that reaches straight back to that nineteen-year-old in Los Angeles, chasing a vision. This article is more than recognition—it’s an ode to the resolve and defiance that have carried me through every hurdle since 1985, and a tribute to my unwavering conviction. Being recognized by the Society feels like coming full circle while still stepping forward.

In those five pages, I share my journey with the Pre-Raphaelites: how it began, the influences that shaped it, and why I work the way I do. It’s a look into the process, the persistence, and the vision I’ve chased for decades. For me, it’s not just about embracing a Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic—it’s about bringing my vision to fruition, giving my authentic voice its place, and expressing a global point of view. Following the example of my hero, Sir Edward Burne-Jones, and his brother-in-arms, designer William Morris, I push back against the status quo through beauty and reason.

Summer 2025 PRS Review

The Pre-Raphaelite Society was founded in October 1988 by the Provost of Birmingham Cathedral, the late very reverend Berry, M.A.

The aims of the Pre-Raphaelite Society are:

“To promote the study of the works and lives of, and also to promote the wider appreciation of, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and their successorslocally, nationally and internationally; to publish, or encourage publication of, writings relating to the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhoodand their successors; to hold meetings, confrences and seminarsof members and others who have an interestin the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and their successors and to arrange visits to places of local, national and international interest; and to co-operate with other societies with similar objectives.”

For further information, visit the Pre-Raphaelite Society’s website by clicking here