The Sole Reason I Still Believe in Illustration

What I really want are my Superstars. Classic white shell-toe adidas Superstars, the ones that feel like a small religion rather than a shoe. Chris Anderson’s Simple Sneakers series doesn’t have them—yet—but it has everything else worth wanting: Nikes laid out with the care usually reserved for still-life paintings, Converse rendered in clean lines that somehow capture what it feels like to pull a fresh pair out of the box for the first time.

Anderson has the specific obsession that turns hobby into craft. It’s not enough to love sneakers; he needs to draw them, needs to get the proportions right, the colorways exact, the negative space around the tongue and laces. The work reads less like fan art and more like documentation—a record of objects that matter to people in ways they can’t quite explain.

I get it. The pull of a good sneaker is irrational and total. You don’t need another pair. You know you don’t need another pair. And then you see someone’s illustration of a foam-green Nike and suddenly your legs are carrying you toward the nearest shoe store with a kind of autonomy your brain didn’t authorize. That’s what Anderson captures—not just the look, but the want. Just add the Superstars and the series is complete.