People might wonder why I keep making Procreate brush sets in a world where many people don’t even know what Procreate is.
Is it a good business idea?
Maybe. Maybe not.
But the truth is, I wasn’t trying to build a business first.
Without realizing it, I was building a game.
A way to play.
A way to create the kind of world I had always wanted to wander through.
When I was growing up in Korea, there were paper dolls. You carefully cut them out with scissors. Every character felt precious. They came with tiny outfits that attached with little folded paper tabs. You had to cut those tabs perfectly or the clothes wouldn’t stay on.
I loved them.
Later came a doll named Lala.
She was, in many ways, a Korean version of Barbie. A bigger head. A slimmer body. I gave her haircuts. I tried curling her hair by heating chopsticks on the stove. I burned the doll’s hair. I nearly burned my own. I cut my bangs thinking I knew exactly what I was doing, only to discover that hair somehow keeps getting shorter every time you trim it.
I did all the things children do.
But what I loved most was not playing with other people.
I loved playing alone.
Lala had a kitchen.
A closet.
Furniture.
A tiny world.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I am still doing exactly the same thing.
Only now the dolls have become illustrations.
And the dollhouse has become LALATOWN.
In LALATOWN, nothing has to follow the rules.
You can place a striped awning in the middle of a street.
You can put a tteokbokki stand beside a Spanish-style building.
You can add one character.
Or twenty.
You can let Franky sit under a balcony.
You can let Dolswe wander through a plaza.
You can place Sarang beside a café window.
You can even put a Seoul subway sign where no subway has ever existed.
Who cares?
That is the point.
Nobody is standing there saying:
“Excuse me, you can’t do that here.”
No city inspector.
No zoning regulations.
No permission forms.
Just imagination.
One brush can become a street.
Another can become a café.
A corner awning can become the beginning of an entirely different neighborhood.
You can combine things that were never meant to go together and somehow create a place that feels exactly right.
That is the game.
That is what I have been building.
Not a tool.
Not a product.
A creative playground.
And despite what it may look like, it is not only for artists.
It is for anyone who enjoys making little worlds.
Anyone who enjoys arranging characters.
Anyone who enjoys naming places.
Anyone who has ever stared out of a café window and imagined a story for the stranger walking past.
Some scenes become festivals.
Some become quiet mornings.
Some become neighborhoods where everyone seems to know each other.
Sometimes the sun is too strong and everyone gathers in the shade.
Sometimes nobody is doing anything important at all.
They are simply sitting there, enjoying the day.
And somehow, that is enough.
I hesitate to call it healing.
That word feels heavy.
As if you are expected to fix something.
This is lighter than that.
It is a place to rest.
Many of these characters and places were created during difficult periods of my life. They appeared while I was trying to move forward, trying to understand things, trying to build something hopeful out of uncertainty.
Some came from longing.
Some came from memories.
Some came from the simple wish for kindness.
When they first appeared on the page, I was happy to meet them.
Over time, they found each other.
The neighborhoods grew.
The stories connected.
And little by little, LALATOWN became a town.
Not because I planned it.
But because all of these small pieces eventually decided they wanted to live together.
And that is how a collection of brush sets slowly became a world. ✨
What’s Next?
One of the questions I get most often is:
“What do people actually do with these brush sets?”
That’s a fair question.
Because what I have been building isn’t just a collection of stamps, characters, buildings, or color palettes.
It’s a way to play.
And sometimes it’s easier to show than to explain.
So very soon, I’ll be sharing a tutorial where you’ll be able to watch a LALATOWN scene come together from scratch.
Not as an illustration lesson.
Not as a “how to draw better” class.
But as an invitation to play.
We’ll build streets.
We’ll place characters.
We’ll move things around.
We’ll create little corners, cafés, neighborhoods, and stories.
And somewhere along the way, you’ll discover that there is no right way to build a LALATOWN.
Only your way.
See you soon.
The neighborhood is still growing.

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