Born in Portsmouth in 1974, I grew up between Italy and England—an upbringing that sparked my love for storytelling.
My father, Enzo Arnone, a photographer, published Ciccì Coccò, a photographic book about children paired with poetry by Bruno Munari. My mother, Mary Rubick, was a lecturer in English at the Conservatorio University in Milan and an accomplished translator. Together, they nurtured my deep appreciation for the Visual Arts and the written word, despite my experience with dyslexia.
I graduated in Illustration from Falmouth College of Art in 2002, a milestone that cemented my passion for picture books. I later worked as an animator on the BBC series The Adventures of Abney and Teal, contributing to both the animated show and its picture books published by Walker Books.
Now based in Milan with my wife and two children, I lecture in Storyboarding at NABA, teach English at a private language school, and work as a translator—all while continuing to craft my own stories through words and pictures.
Please feel free to drop me a line at: darubick@icloud.com
Am I one of those illustrators who spent their childhood drawing? I did draw a lot, so I suppose I was. But I was also encouraged to be creative in other ways. I had a never-ending roll of paper and an easel that I could use to paint freely. I got my hands dirty, splattering paint and experimenting without limits. Over time, abstract smudges of colour and playful mark-making began to take shape, transforming into something recognisable. Suddenly, the sky became a blue line across the top of the page. Then, the grown-ups encouraged me to draw “the way things really look.”
As I grew, drawing shifted from playful experimentation to more deliberate practice—proportions, perspective, light and shadow, colour theory, and composition. These became invaluable tools, especially when telling stories where characters had to remain consistent across every page and animation frame.
One school day stands out in my memory. I was completely absorbed by an image in my head—an aerial view of a funfair. It was a complex scene, full of detail: the roller coaster twisting and turning, the crisscrossing bars of its structure, and the movement of the rides. I wished with all my heart to draw it exactly as I imagined. That moment felt pivotal—a real turning point. I realised what I wanted most: to become good enough at drawing to bring any idea to life on paper. I wanted to draw the best funfair in the world.
By the time I reached adulthood, I could draw from life and copy photographs quite well. But I still struggled to draw from my imagination. I applied to study Fine Arts but didn’t get in—and, looking back, I’m glad about that. Instead, I was accepted onto the Illustration course at Falmouth College of Art, which turned out to be a life-changing experience.
Over time, I succeeded in learning how to draw anything I wanted. And, to my surprise, I also discovered my love for writing. Sometimes, I realise I enjoy writing just as much as drawing—possibly even more.
I’ve had the privilege of being born with two nationalities. I’m a better Italian speaker but a better English writer. When I sketch, my mark-making feels British, but when I draw realistically, my sensitivity feels distinctly Italian. It’s complicated—never black or white. Growing up with dual nationality, my mind naturally wandered to distant horizons and unfamiliar faces. I understood early on that the world differs greatly depending on where you stand, and my perspective became broad.
As a child, I often escaped the reality of school by remembering places I had visited and reconnecting with distant family and friends in my thoughts. I imagined what I would do when I visited my cousin Joe. Now, I escape by thinking about stories. I’m always plotting, turning ideas over in my mind. I can hold onto a story for years, keeping it on the back burner, refining it, and waiting for the right moment to bring it to life.
I’m a private person, so this is as open to the public as I’ve been in ages. This website offers a glimpse into my creative world—but it’s not all there is to see or read. For example, I’ve recently written a fantasy book for mid-grade readers. Gosh, I really am revealing a lot here.