Decoding 'Make It Pop': A Field Translator for the Strangest Feedback in Art Direction
Somewhere in America right now, an illustrator is staring at an email that says, in its entirety: "Love it! Just wondering if we could punch it up a little?"
And somewhere in America right now, that illustrator is whispering "punch what up" to an empty room.
Welcome to the feedback economy, where the people commissioning art and the people making it share a workspace but apparently not a language. After a decade of commissions, revisions, and one memorable phone call in which a client asked me to make a logo "less yellow but keep the yellow," I've decided to do what any reasonable artist does: build a translation chart.
The Vague Note Is Not the Enemy (Probably)
First, a heretical admission from Behind the Easel: most clients aren't being difficult on purpose. They're being specific on purpose — just not in vocabulary. A marketing director in Chicago knows something is off about the illustration for their fall campaign. They can feel it the way you can feel a grocery list is missing something. What they lack is the technical term, so they reach for whatever word is closest: "pop," "whimsy," "energy," "sparkle."
The problem is that these words are load-bearing. "Make it pop" could mean increase contrast. It could mean add saturation. It could mean the mascot looks like he's attending his own funeral. You won't know until you've guessed wrong twice.
The trick, I've learned, is to treat every vague note as a symptom and work backward to the disease.
The Big Five: A Diagnostic Guide
"More whimsy." The classic. Nine times out of ten, this does not mean add fairy dust. It means the piece currently reads as corporate-safe and the client is quietly panicking that their boss will call it boring. Translation: loosen a line, tilt a shape, add one genuinely weird detail — a bird wearing a tiny hat, a window at a rebellious angle. Whimsy is permission to be imperfect.
"Punch it up" / "Make it pop." Almost always a contrast problem. If your palette is all mid-tones, nothing pops because nothing has anything to pop against. Darken your darks, pick one saturated accent color, and watch the note evaporate.
"Can it feel more premium?" This one haunts food and beverage clients especially. Translation: fewer colors, more negative space, and for the love of gouda, stop using the font that looks like a county fair. Premium is usually just restraint wearing a blazer.
"Something's off, I can't put my finger on it." Genuinely useful note, ironically. It almost always means a hierarchy problem — two elements competing to be the star. Pick one hero and let the rest become supporting cast.
"Can we see more options?" Not a note about the art. A note about the client's own confidence. They don't know what they want and are outsourcing the decision to a side-by-side comparison. Give them three directions with clearly different personalities so the choice becomes easy.
The Decoder Chart (Tape This to Your Monitor)
| They say | They mean | Your move |
|---|---|---|
| "Make it pop" | Fix the contrast | Push value range, add one accent color |
| "More whimsy" | It feels too safe | Add one odd, charming detail |
| "More premium" | Too busy, too casual | Cut elements, add breathing room |
| "Can it be more eye-catching?" | Thumbnail test failed | Simplify the silhouette, boost the focal point |
| "I'll know it when I see it" | They need options, not questions | Deliver three distinct directions |
| "Just a small tweak" | Budget anxiety | Do the tweak, don't invoice a round |
| "My spouse didn't like it" | Nobody approved anything yet | Ask what specifically the spouse said. Then ignore the spouse. |
A Cautionary Tale, Lightly Anonymized
A children's publisher once sent me eleven rounds of notes on a single cover. Round four: "more whimsy." Round six: "less whimsy." Round nine: "back to round four but warmer." The cover that finally ran was, almost to the pixel, the first draft. I framed the rejection-style email chain anyway. It hangs next to my other trophies nobody brags about.
The lesson from that beautiful disaster: when feedback starts contradicting itself, stop revising and start asking. "When you say whimsy, do you mean the character's expression, or the color palette, or the composition?" Clients are often relieved to be handed concrete choices. It turns a mood into a menu.
The Grace Note
Here's the thing about decoding feedback: it's really an act of empathy wearing a trench coat. Behind every "make it pop" is a person whose job depends on this image landing, who doesn't have the words but absolutely has the feeling. Our work as illustrators isn't just drawing — it's being the translator between what a client feels and what a picture shows.
So the next time an email says "punch it up," take a breath, darken a shadow, and pour one out for illustrators everywhere still waiting to learn what, exactly, needed punching.
Got a feedback phrase that haunts you? The comment section is a judgment-free zone — mostly.
