Mood Boards for Creeps: How to Find (And Use) Reference Without Becoming a Hack, a Hermit, or a Lawsuit Waiting to Happen
Alright, time for some raw honesty—if you’re not using reference, you’re not growing. You’re just regurgitating the same tired mental images, the faded Polaroids of your own mind, and trying to pass it off as “style.” Want to level up? Want to punch through your plateaus, break out of color ruts, smash the boring shapes and try something you’ve never done? Reference is your best weapon—if you use it right.
But let’s get something out of the way: “reference” isn’t just about Google Images and Pinterest scavenging. It’s not just a folder of stolen body parts and color swatches. Mood boards, when done well, are a living, mutating altar to the things that move you—the stuff that makes your guts churn, your brain itch, your hands want to make.
Done badly, they’re a copyright time bomb or a landfill for clichés.
Done right? They’re a license to break rules, remix reality, and create art that actually means something.
Welcome to the real, dirty world of reference gathering and mood board building. I’ll show you how to do it like a pro—and how to dodge the traps and tar pits that swallow so many would-be originals.
1. Mood Boards: More Than a Scrapbook for the Deranged
If your “mood board” is just a corkboard (physical or digital) of stuff you think looks “cool,” congratulations—you’re already ahead of 80% of lazy artists. But don’t get cocky.
The magic isn’t in the collection—it’s in the curation. Mood boards are not a dumping ground; they’re a map. They show you where your taste is headed, where your obsessions overlap, and, more importantly, what you shouldn’t do (again).
Personal confession: My best pieces started with mood boards that looked more like evidence walls—red string, wild juxtapositions, things that made sense only to me.
That’s what you want. The weirder and more specific your references, the more likely you’ll make something new.
2. The Dirty Reality: Where (And How) to Find Killer Reference
Let’s burn the cliché: Don’t just type “cool fantasy art” into Pinterest and call it a day. Here’s the real scavenger hunt:
A. Build Your Own Vaults
Personal photos: No copyright drama. Raw, imperfect, gold for details.
Old magazines, comics, medical books: Thrift store finds are treasure troves. Cut, scan, deface.
Museum archives: Nearly every great museum now has online collections—public domain, high-res, and way weirder than modern Instagram.
Film stills: Grab those screenshots from movies that nail the mood you want (your private use only; don’t be an idiot).
Nature walks: Take your own pics. Even a crumbling sidewalk can spark something.
B. Digital Gutter Diving
Unsplash, Pexels, Pixabay: Royalty-free, real people, less gloss.
Pinterest—But Dig Deeper: Don’t just search, follow the rabbit holes. Go twenty boards deep, find the unpopular stuff.
Tumblr, Behance, ArtStation: For inspiration, not theft. Find the mood, not the finished product.
C. The Real Secret: Mix Reference Types
Photos, yes—but also textures, color palettes, typography, clothing, weather, even smells (describe them, if you can’t capture them).
If you’re working on a project—say, a haunted 1970s motel—grab wallpaper patterns, product ads, old maps, matchbooks, bad Polaroids.
Don’t just mood board the characters—mood board the world they live in.
3. Curation: How Not to Become a Mood Board Hoarder
Here’s where most would-be-creatives crash and burn: they gather, gather, gather, and never stop to ask why they picked what they picked.
Your mood board should be a conversation, not a landfill.
Step-By-Step: From Junk Pile to Weapon
Set Your Target: What’s this board for? A painting? A comic? Your personal “aesthetic” for the next six months?
Limit Yourself: 20-30 images, max, for a focused board. Less is more.
Arrange With Purpose:
Group by mood, color, texture, theme—not by “source.”
Place “anchors” (the pieces that define the vibe) dead center.
Let outliers (the weird stuff) orbit the edge. Sometimes your best idea comes from a clash, not a match.
Note-Taking: Add sticky notes (physical or digital) with WHY you picked it. “For the lighting.” “Pose idea.” “Palette for melancholy.”
Purge Ruthlessly: If something no longer fits, dump it. Stale mood boards kill new ideas.
4. Stealing Without Being a Thief: The Art of Reference Without Plagiarism
Let’s get brutally honest:
Everyone “steals.” The difference between homage and hackwork is in how you use it.
Never, ever copy someone’s whole image and call it “inspired.” That’s theft, and it’ll bite you.
Break the source. Mash up five things—lighting from one, pose from another, mood from a third, color from a dead Dutchman’s still life.
Change the context. Draw a pose, but flip the gender, era, or mood.
Turn photos into thumbnails, sketches, color blobs. Leave the finished art to you.
Personal rule: If I can recognize the source after I’m done, I start again. The only exception? Master studies—clearly labeled, never for sale.
5. Ingredient Hacks: How to Actually Use a Mood Board While Working
Start loose: Don’t look at the board and then the canvas, one-to-one. Absorb the vibe. Let it infect you.
Keep it visible: Pin it up or keep it on a second monitor. Out of sight, out of mind.
Use color pickers: Grab actual palette samples and make swatches. Digital or with real paint, doesn’t matter.
Do quick “reference sketches”: Five-minute studies of poses, shadows, fabrics—before you touch your final piece.
Keep evolving: Mood boards should mutate as your project grows. Old ideas die, new obsessions crop up. Update the damn thing.
6. Survival Strategies for the Creepy, the Broke, and the Overwhelmed
Make “ugly boards” for yourself. Don’t worry about impressing anyone. If a bloodstained mattress and a photo of your own chipped teeth spark something, use them.
Don’t be precious. Tear, scribble, overlay, print bad-resolution images—mood boards are fuel, not finished art.
Respect boundaries: If you’re using real people, get permission. Never post “reference” from a private social feed without a green light.
Archive old boards. You’ll see your tastes mutate, sometimes in ways that’ll horrify and amuse you a year later.
7. Confessions From the Rusty Closet: My Mood Board Disasters and Miracles
I’ve built boards that looked like the ransom wall from “Se7en.” Polaroids of dead pets, color swatches from 1970s furniture ads, X-ray shots of teeth, antique pornography, and low-res GIFs of traffic accidents.
Most of it never saw the light of day, but some of those Frankenstein monsters turned into the most alive, original work I’ve ever made.
Best piece of advice? If you’re a little embarrassed by your reference, you’re probably onto something honest. If your board looks like everyone else’s, you’ve already failed.
8. The Final Reality—Mood Boards Are a Mirror, Not a Mask
In the end, your mood board is only as useful as you are brutal and honest with it. Don’t mood board for the sake of it—do it to see your own obsessions, your hidden patterns, your next big leap.
If you’re only chasing the trends, you’ll never find your real voice.
If you’re too scared to put your weird on the wall, you’ll never surprise yourself.
So go dig in the gutter, steal from the saints and the sinners, build a board so raw and specific you almost want to hide it. Then use it to make something that couldn’t come from anyone but you.
See Also:
“Steal Like an Artist” by Austin Kleon
“Art & Fear” by David Bayles & Ted Orland
The Mood Board Manifesto (various art blogs)
Pinterest copyright resources
The Met’s open-access archives
Old library books, estate sales, and your own nightmares