Even if you haven’t peered into the packed pages of a Where’s Waldo? book (or, more accurately, Where’s Wally?), you’re likely aware of them. Despite the creator, Martin Handford, selling over 73 million Where’s Waldo books, they were still rare at my school’s library.
But what is the art style of Where’s Waldo? Why does every generation find these books and art so mesmerizing? And, because there is always more going on in art, is there a folk element embedded within?
Wally Wimmelbilder
Where’s Waldo first landed in bookstores in 1987. Sequels, including my The Fantastic Journey, appeared in the following two years. Sporadic releases of more books, a TV series, and additional activity books also followed. All to say, Waldo and his fellow striped denizens were a huge hit, published in over 50 countries. (In Germany, he’s Walter. Charlie in France. Ubaldo in Italy. Van Lang in Vietnam.) You probably already know this. You probably wiped a sticky booger on one of the pages as a kid, let’s be real.
What you may not know is that the Where’s Waldo-style is an evolution from a rich artistic tradition of Wimmelbilder. “Teeming” or “busy pictures”.
Pieter Bruegel the Elder
This term has been retroactively applied to Flemish master Pieter Bruegel the Elder. You can easily see why.
Bruegel’s “genre paintings”, or peasant paintings, focused on the people in all their forms getting up to shenanigans: playing cards, attacking each other, making music, dancing. Living.
And they’re completely immersive. They’re so noisy looking, so busy, so well, teeming, and that’s the charm. Also, they continue to be treasure troves of historical and etymological information. Even the games children played.
Hieronymus Bosch
In a similar but more surreal vein, every college kid’s favorite painter (projecting), Hieronymus Bosch, also fills his paintings with people and details. Whether they are delightful sprite-like people, scary creatures, or magical architecture, they all demand attention.
The longer a viewer looks at these pieces, the more they are rewarded. It’s a clever and time-laborious way to get an audience to spend time with your work.
Hundreds of years later, we’re still looking.
I feel like the visual through line here is pretty obvious to Where’s Waldo.
But what makes Wimmelbilder different from crowd painting?
Wimmelbilder Foil: The Italian Renaissance
To answer what separates a painting of a crowd from Wimmelbilder, let’s look at some of the most famous pieces of art from the Italian Renaissance.
Ah, the piece of art that manages to be on the cover of science, history, art, and philosophy books alike. And that’s because it’s filled with famous mathematicians, historians, artists, and so forth. It’s iconic.
Every person is worth looking at; they’re esteemed individuals. This is the Italian Renaissance we’re talking about and all the big artists are in there. Today we could consider that an easter egg. Small narratives happen, most famously Aristotle pointing below to Earth and Plato pointing above.
But how different does it feel from a Bruegel painting teeming with people fighting? It’s so poised and perfect.
Or take The Last Judgment, which is definitely more lively and contains narratives.
So senouos. But the viewer is still peering up. (Literally and figuratively.)
Wimmelbilder pieces, in my opinion, seem to contain:
- An elevated viewpoint
- Smaller narratives and/or easter eggs within the greater piece
- And I would argue, the general portrayal of many walks of life in everyday life in the teeming figures
In Italian Renaissance pieces, thinkers, saints, and god are portrayed. Brueghel, on the other hand, portrayed the common people. For daring to portray the people as people, contemporaries and people in the snobby class called him “Peer den drol”, “Pete the turd”.
Also, the Northern European artists painted more movable pieces. Paintings and triptychs can be moved. Frescoes cannot. This also speaks to a more accessible art form created for a wider range of people (in theory). Often invitation-only spaces. Most people ‘saw’ the Sistine Chapel through engravings. Speaking of…
Horror Vacui: Fear of an Empty Space
Where’s Waldo-style marries this Wimmelbilder with “horror vacui“.
Aristotle posited that “nature abhors an empty space”. How much work do we do warding off nature? Sweeping leaves from our floors, spraying out moss from the gutter, cutting away ‘weeds’. It rings true. Horror vacui, or kenophobia, means fear of empty space.
And it can apply to art, too.
If you’ve ever stared at an empty page and felt the urge to fill up every bit of it, that would be an instance of horror vacui. The crowding can be people, or it can be any mark. Today, it’s often applied to “outsider art”, that elitist term. But, it’s also applied to other work, including the incredible pieces of Albrecht Dürer.
Dürer’s astonishing woodcuts travelled far and wide across Europe because he saw the potential of mass-produced printing. Again, there is a tenous relationship between accessibility and filled-up works that is curious.
Children’s Illustration
But the artists above did not create these works for children. That shift happened relatively close to the modern day.
Enter the Industrial Revolution: rising literacy, printing improvements, and a middle class who wanted to educate their offspring led to children’s illustration. Obviously, that’s simplified. The history is fascinating, but the Golden Age of Children’s Illustration is generally considered to be around 1860-1930s. You may know beloved illustrators like Arthur Rackham, Kay Nielsen, Kate Greenaway, or some lesser-known artists, like Sybil Tawse and Hansi.
I think the illustration of the 1970s was also incredible. You have Frog and Toad, Clocks and More Clocks, Where the Sidewalk Ends, an active Dr. Seuss, Maurice Sendak, Edward Gorey, and still-beloved illustrator Richard Scarry.
A top-down approach is clearly visible in Scarry’s work, with wide scenes containing many creatures. The illustrations still feel modern, if nostalgic, with bright colors and easy-to-digest information for children. Humorous vignettes happen within the scenes, breezy little accidents, but everyone seems to pick themselves up and carry on.
It’s also a celebration of many walks of life, or at least an idyllic version of a working life where everyone is valued. Busy, busy, busy.
Scarry’s work is amusing and charming and, frankly, cozy. Scarry’s works often contain all the hallmarks of a Wimmelbilder.
However, Where’s Waldo has a search-and-find element which (most) of Scarry’s work doesn’t contain. But it’s not the first notable one. Highlights magazine contained search-and-find elements.
Search-and-Find and Mitsumasa Anno
If we posit that Wimmelbilder contain smaller narratives within a larger piece, I don’t think we can leave out scroll paintings and emaki. Or Mitsumasa Anno‘s, whose work is a marriage of the elements mentioned above.
In Anno’s Journey (1977), Anno portrays a gentleman in blue with a little hat on a horse riding through beautiful scenes throughout Europe. Honestly, he reminds me a bit of the wizard in Where’s Waldo.
Anno’s style is playful, and bends rules of perspective and time when needed. It was a hit, and in the sequels, Anno continues his travels throughout Europe, the USA, and China. Anno even has a museum in Japan, so you can visit his work. Children could find the man, while adults could find allusions to art, history, literature, and culture.
Anno’s illustrations combine a lot of the Wimmelbilder themes:
- Beautiful, teeming scenes filled with people and figures
- An elevated viewpoint
- A celebration of workers/the people
- Small narratives
- A search and find element
What Separates Mitsumasa Anno
On the back flap of the dust jacket of Anno’s Journey, the editor mentions a direct correlation to narrative scrolls, such as a long scroll created by Sesshū Tōyō. These scrolls were meant to be rolled out, allowing the viewer to follow the narrative. They’re often incredibly detailed, beautiful, and moving. View China’s so-called Mona Lisa and scroll along to get a feel for what these are like if you’re not familiar. Viewing Anno’s wordless journeys feels like viewing a scroll in book form. There is a gentle narrative, one of a journey through a new place.
There is also a genuine love of humanity that shines through the delicate illustrations.
There are differences in people, different styles of housing, social differences, different cultures all over the world. But perhaps, what lies at the bottom of the heart of each human being is the same, an inherent value. For example, parents caring for their children, young lovers yearning for each other, those basic emotions, those human values are the same all over.
Mitsumasa Anno
Unlike Waldo, horror vacui does not fit Anno’s work in my opinion. Anno instead engages with ma (間), that is, to highly simplify, negative space or the space between. Anno uses this in both visual depictions, but also in depictions of life. A woman working rubs her aching back after picking grapes. Pioneers gather in a circle for a funeral. A couple is displayed over the pages, from courting to their ultimate death. Anno journeys through places, but also explores the rhythms of life.
Yes, I’ve been utterly charmed.
Wimmelbilder Today
Art always reflects the times in which it is created.
Wimmelbilder today is often used in step with capitalism. Marketing pieces use easter eggs and cultural references in ads and digital materials to boost engagement. Take Roku City and its Easter eggs. Millions see it every day, and many create third-party content, finding details. Clever marketing, and a money-maker, I’m sure. I even went to a “real live version” of Roku City at my old job, SXSW. Speaking of, their key art in 2026 has a distinct Wimmelbilder flair.
But don’t worry, plenty of artists are creating incredible pieces in this style, not in tandem with money-guzzling corporations. Interestingly, isometric perspective seems to be the go-to, perhaps a result of gaming.
Elijah Haswell’s work is full of love and diversity. Pierre the Maze Detective, also from Japan, seems to fill the niche Waldo left behind. Readers spot two initial characters, Pierre and Carmen, then follow a maze filled with little details and clues.
I might go pick up a copy.
Read More:
The Original Hidden Picture Artists Were Dutch Masters
Anno Mitsumasa’s first UK show charts the Japanese illustrator’s cultural adventures
Art Term Tuesday: Horror Vacui
Mordoh, Alice Morrison. “Folklife in the Work of Mitsumasa Anno.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 10, no. 3 (1985): 104–8.
Swinger, Alice K. “Profile: Mitsumasa Anno’s Journey.” Language Arts 64, no. 7 (1987): 762–66.
