What makes Pooh Pooh? The answer lies not only in author A.A. Milne’s prose, but also in the quiet genius of E. H. Shepard’s original illustrations. With Shepard’s work now in the public domain, it’s the perfect opportunity to revisit how these deceptively simple drawings became cultural touchstones.

Some of my favorite all time books are the Winnie-the-Pooh novels by A. A. Milne. They’re stories of childhood, of learning lessons, of escapism, and, ultimately, of having to grow up. These texts are written with wit, humor, warmth, and a cadence that brings joyful surprises on every page. And, these stories benefit from the enchanting illustrations of E. H. Shepard. Born on December 10, 1879, he was a frequent collaborator of Milne’s and a titan among British illustrators. His sketchy illustrations bring the story’s text to life, and they cause the reader’s imagination to expand. Without them, these books would not have the same identity that they do now. The stories would persist, but the strong visual identity of the characters takes them a step beyond to stick in readers’ minds. Now, in the public domain, we can appreciate these books and Shepard’s illustrations with a more rigorous attention. Let’s examine some of my favorites, how they elevate the story/situation of the text, and why they mean so much to the reader.

Pooh and Piglet in the snow – Winnie-the-Pooh (Chapter III: In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle)

Shepard depicts Pooh as shirtless throughout the books except when it is cold and snowy outside. For the story it functions as characterization, showing Pooh’s adaptation to the cold. Unintentionally, however, Shepard laid the seeds for Pooh’s iconic design in most media. This shirt would later become a visual anchor for Pooh’s identity, reaching further iconic status when it was colored red for the first time on the cover of a 1932 record.

Piglet’s portrayal demonstrates how gesture and expression reveal personality beyond the written page. Shepard’s illustrations become an active storytelling partner to Milne’s text.

“Suddenly Winnie-the-Pooh stopped, and pointed excitedly in front of him. “Look!” “What?” said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he hadn’t been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice in an exercising sort of way”. 

Despite its static nature, the illustration creates a sense of movement through jumping. Piglet’s pose, extended arms and kicked-out leg, convinces the reader that Piglet is jumping in an “exercising sort of way” rather than just being frightened. Shepard’s drawing enhances the text by leaving viewers with strong character imagery. Even the snowy environment becomes believable against a plain background, as the pair leave small scattered footprints behind. Shepard enhances Milne’s prose, transforming simple descriptions into lasting visuals that inform culture and character for Pooh and Piglet.

Piglet carries (and pops) a balloon – Winnie-the-Pooh (Chapter VI: In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents)

Shepard uses scale, motion, and comedic timing to reveal Piglet’s personality more vividly than words alone can. Throughout the books, Piglet’s small size shifts for the visual storytelling needs. At first glance, Piglet looks cute carrying the balloon with a jaunty gait and uptilted head, but then the scale hits: the balloon towers over him, and he’s straining just to wrap his arms around it. That struggle becomes a window into his character: anxious but committed, small but determined to be a good friend. Shepard lets the image do the talking, showing Piglet’s devotion without a single word.

Ultimately, Piglet’s physical limitations get the best of him as he ends up popping the balloon, leaving it as tattered scrap. Milne captures the chaos in a single explosive line:

“Bang!!!???***!!!”

Shepard’s diptych captures the split-second transformation from proud gift-bearing to sudden uncertainty as the balloon goes from full to scrap in just one frame. Shepard depicts this suddenness with lines trailing behind Piglet as he’s still being carried by the momentum of that sudden pop. In two simple images, Shepard depicts character, action, and consequence.

I won’t spoil how the chapter ends, but it’s a happy ending.

Eeyore buried in the snow – The House at Pooh Corner (Chapter I: In Which A House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore)

Eeyore is the most deeply depressed of the Pooh characters, and Shepard visualizes that melancholy literally: snow piling up over him. Even the imagery surrounding himself turns gloomy. There is a darkness within the sky, being shaded with grey and dark spots reflecting the dark atmosphere that hangs around Eeyore daily. From the first image, Eeyore’s head sadly droops down, and, as the images continue, the snow obfuscates his face showing his total resignation to his lived reality. The effect is poetic: the invisible burdens of depression made real, a cold blanket piling up over him.

Unsaid in the images is what Milne conveys in the text, that Eeyore has already done the hard work: reaching out to a friend. Eeyore stands in the snow as he speaks with Christopher Robin seeking help to restore his stick house and get out of the cold. He even looks on the bright side that “we haven’t had an earthquake lately”. Even in stillness, these drawings ask us to notice Eeyore’s effort: he is still here and still trying. Shepard gives his quiet resilience a shape we can see.

Christopher Robin comes along – The House at Pooh Corner (Chapter VI: In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In)

One of the core themes of the second book is the end of childhood. Christopher Robin is often absent, with mentions of his time now being spent at school. Any moment he returns to the forest carries an added emotional weight, a reminder that these carefree days are fleeting. Milne’s text sets the scene:

“Christopher Robin came down from the Forest to the bridge, feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen didn’t matter a bit, as it didn’t on such a happy afternoon”

Shepard’s illustration reflects these words. Christopher Robin is drawn with a light, unburdened gait — hand in pocket, a single bite missing from the apple he carries — as if there’s no rush to finish anything. The surrounding environment has a sense of relief and carefree energy as plants rustle in his wake, and curved strokes in the sky suggest a bright breeze carrying the moment forward. Undefined territory in front of Christopher Robin suggests possibility, as if the future is unknown and undefined for him. Christopher Robin literally steps into this undefined future. This image truly does enhance the text and elevates it for the audience as we can more readily imagine and feel ourselves in its place. There is no worry about “twice nineteen” in sight. 

Christopher Robin, Pooh, and Piglet on the bridge – The House at Pooh Corner (Chapter VI: In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In)

Building on the carefree attitude from the previous image, Shepard shows Christopher Robin lingering on a bridge with nothing to do and nowhere else to be: an essential part of childhood. The lush natural environment surrounding the characters, note Pooh and Piglet also on the bridge, contrasts the mentioned school setting that Christopher Robin came from. Nature is the escape from school and responsibilities.

When turning to Pooh and Piglet, Shepard gives the duo their own moment of friendship. Piglet gently rests his hand on Pooh, a subtle gesture of comfort and reassurance, that goes unsaid by text. Piglet’s touch emphasizes his need for reassurance as he is the only one without a bar separating him from the river. Shepard’s illustration enhances the three’s friendship as they look out at the river in shared silence, content simply to exist in each other’s company. Milne’s text reinforces this idea:

“For a long time they looked at the river beneath them, saying nothing, and the river said nothing too, for it felt very quiet and peaceful on this summer afternoon.”

Christopher Robin and Pooh in silhouette – The House at Pooh Corner (Chapter X: In Which Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There)

Since The House at Pooh Corner has been about leaving childhood behind all along, it naturally ends with a goodbye. For many of us, childhood doesn’t vanish all at once, but slowly fades as we hold onto the pieces that matter most. In a story, though, it has to end somewhere. Milne suggests that this ending is an enduring enchanted place.

“So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.”

This sentiment is reflected in Shepard’s illustration: two silhouettes holding hands mid leap. Etching themselves onto the page and reinforcing their enduring connection. Their slight leap evokes a playfulness and a sense of things not yet complete as they have yet to fall. These two creative choices reinforce the “always” of Milne’s words. The finality is not in the goodbye, but in the forever of the moment in which we leave them, as referenced in the title of the chapter. And, reflecting the form of the book, they are always there whenever we seek to return.

Shepard’s illustrations bring meaning and life to the text. The next time you read through the Pooh books, take a moment to appreciate the scratchy stylings of E. H. Shepard, and think about what they say for the characters and scenarios. And of course this could be done as soon as you want. Both the 1926 and 1928 books are in the public domain and our collections!

When OpenAI released the first version of Sora, I was excited. For years, I'd had this short story sitting on my hard drive, something I'd written long ago and always dreamed of bringing to life as a short film. The only problem was I didn't have the expertise to shoot a movie, and my Blender 3D skills are rusty for lack of use. But Sora promised something different. I could upload my sketches, input my script, and generate the film in my mind. The creative barrier had finally been lifted.

But reality was a bit different from the demos. No matter what I tried, my outputs never looked anything like what OpenAI showcased. The scenes were adjacent to what I wanted, not what I actually needed.

It wasn't just Sora. I tested Runway ML, experimented with Veo, and tried to keep my spending reasonable. Every model generated the same kind of thing: something that "looked good" in a superficial way. They excelled at creating cliché scenes, the kind of generic image that checks all the technical boxes. But creating something that could fit into a coherent narrative, something with intention and specificity? That was nearly impossible.

When Sora 2 launched, I started right where I left off. Maybe this time would be different. The videos are more realistic than ever, but the main problem remains unchanged. These tools aren't struggling because they can't generate scenes or dialogue, they sure can. The issue is that they generate what I've come to call "AI Videos," and that's a distinct category with its own aesthetic fingerprint.

The New Uncanny Valley

Think about how you instantly recognize certain types of content. If I described a video to you right now: fast-paced, someone talking directly to a screen with multiple jump cuts, a ring light's circular reflection visible in their eyes, their bedroom visible in the background. You would instantly say "TikTok video." The format is hard to miss these days.

AI-generated videos have developed their own unique look. There's a visual quality that marks them, a subtle wrongness that your brain picks up on even when you can't articulate exactly what's off. It's the new uncanny valley, and I feel an intense revulsion whenever I encounter it. I'm not alone in this reaction either. In my small circle of friends and colleagues, we've all developed the same instinctive aversion.

I'm starting to feel the same revulsion for YouTube shorts even when they are created by real people. The reason is, well, YouTube has been secretly using AI to alter real videos, making authentic content start to look artificially generated. You will notice people's faces look smoothed or sharpened, and that happens without the creator's knowledge or consent. The line between real and AI-generated content is blurring from both directions.

So if these videos trigger such a negative response in many viewers, where can AI-generated content actually thrive? The answer: with spammers, scammers, rage-baiters, and manipulators.

These bad actors are having a field day with AI video tools. A couple months ago, I wrote about AI Video Overviews, I speculated that Google might eventually start using AI-generated videos as enhanced search results, synthesizing information from multiple sources into custom video summaries. That remains speculative. But for harmful content? That's not speculation, it's happening right now, at scale.

The Primary Victims

The main targets are older adults. My parents and their peer group are constantly sharing AI-generated videos in their group chats and on social media. Even as I write this, my mother just sent me a video showing Denzel Washington giving life advice, entirely fabricated, of course.

There is a wide variety of content. Health misinformation, sensational fake news, videos claiming Obama has embraced Islam, an elderly Tai Chi master giving dubious health tips, Trump supposedly reversing or doubling down on positions he never actually took. The specific claims change daily, but the pattern remains constant.

These videos spread like wildfire despite our collective, repeated efforts to educate people. I've spent countless hours explaining why these videos are fake. In my community group chat, I've explained the telltale signs multiple times, like the little cloud icon with eyes that appears on AI-generated content (sora watermark). I've shared practical tips: if a video seems too good or too shocking to be true, search for the information on Google to verify it. Nothing seems to stick.

Some days, according to these videos, we're at war. Other days, entire cities have burned down, or a tsunami has devastated Los Angeles. You can't debunk faster than this information spreads.

When you find these videos on YouTube, scroll down to the comments. You'll see real people engaging seriously with fabricated content, offering heartfelt responses to synthetic personas, debating points that were never actually made by the people shown in the videos. I get phone calls from family overseas, people reach out, or share what they think is happening right at my doorstep. When I ask where they heard it? They forward a whatsapp video.

There's no easy solution to this crisis.

AI video technology has found its audience, just not the audience the marketing materials promised. These tools weren't really designed to help people like me overcome technical limitations and bring our stories to life. They were made to enable those who want to manipulate, deceive, and exploit people for engagement, profit, or ideology.

I've tried to find legitimate, beneficial use cases for AI video generation. I've thought about educational applications, accessibility features, and experimental art projects. Maybe they exist in theory, but in practice, I keep coming back to the same conclusion.

Right now, every AI video I encounter is harmful. Every single one, without exception.

Either it's directly harmful like spreading misinformation, impersonating real people, manipulating vulnerable viewers. Or it's indirectly harmful by training us to accept a synthetic reality where nothing can be trusted and everything must be questioned. Even the "harmless" AI videos contribute to a broader erosion of trust in visual media.

This technology is devastatingly effective for the purposes bad actors have found for it. The creative barrier I hoped to overcome remains in place. But now there's a new barrier too. The barrier of trust. And that one might be much harder to rebuild.

Last year, the Firefox team set out to test something fans requested: choosing a custom app icon. The experiment was simple. Offer a small set of options and see how people use them.

The team created early concepts, but experiment lead Gabrielle Lussier noticed something was missing. The designs were clean and functional, but none captured the playful, emotional spark people associate with Firefox. That led the team to revisit a collection of fan art shared during Firefox’s 20th anniversary, and one illustration stood out immediately: a warm, whimsical drawing of Firefox hugging the Earth by Dutch illustrator Ruud Hendriks (@heyheymomodraws). 

“I love that it is reminiscent of our original logo from 2004, but modernized and simplified. It’s also adorable! How could you not love it!” said Gabrielle.

To select the icon, open Firefox and head to Settings → General (iOS) / Customize (Android) → App Icon. 

Ruud is known for the charming, joyful characters in his comic series heyheymomo, and he brings that same energy to this design. He originally created the artwork as a quick doodle for fun. Today, it is the first community-created app icon in Firefox.

In the Q&A below, Ruud shares how the sketch came to life, what inspired it, and what it means to see his work appear inside a browser he has used for years.

Can you tell us a bit about yourself and what inspired you to participate in last year’s Firefox 20th anniversary fan art challenge?

The funny thing is, I participated before the challenge was even a thing! One day, I didn’t know what to draw and somehow felt inspired by the cute little fox icon in my dock. I drew my own version as a super loose doodle, completely on a whim, in just a few minutes. I thought it came out pretty cute, so I posted it on my social media just for fun. People vibed with it, and the Mozilla social team picked it up. A few weeks later, I got a message asking if I wanted to submit it for the challenge since they really liked it. Of course I said yes!

What does Firefox mean to you personally, as a brand, a browser, or a community?

I’ve been on the internet for a long time. Firefox has been my favourite browser since forever, and I’m a bit of a creature of habit, so it’s always stuck with me. I like how lightweight and simple it is. Plus, as a visually minded person, I totally judge books by their covers — and I’ve always loved the Firefox icon. It’s so appealing that it made me want to draw it in the first place.

Where did the idea for your “Firefox hugging the Earth” artwork come from?

It’s my little homage to the older Firefox logo, the one that made me a Firefox fan. The new one is very stylish, but the older one has always had a special place in my heart. My own work is usually very cutesy, with smiley faces and friendly characters, so I just drew my own version of it in that style.

This looks hand-drawn. What tools or techniques did you use to create it?

The initial five-minute doodle was just a quick sketch on my iPad using the app Procreate. Since Mozilla was interested in making it an actual icon, I later created a high-resolution, smoother version using vector art.

How did you feel when you learned your artwork would become one of the official Firefox app icons?

As a longtime Firefox fan, I was over the moon and couldn’t believe all of this came from just a silly doodle I did on a whim. I think that’s the beauty of the internet — how something small and spontaneous can take off like that. I’m really honoured, and I hope you all like my silly, little icon.

What a fan-made icon says about how we build

Ruud’s icon shows how product features can come from small, genuine ideas. His artwork delivered exactly what the team set out to explore: a bit of delight, a touch of nostalgia, and a visual style that feels true to Firefox. This project reflects how Mozilla builds. We listen, we iterate, and we look for ways to bring community creativity into the product. Ruud’s contribution shows how users and artists can shape Firefox in ways that feel both personal and unexpected.

Ruud Hendriks is an illustrator from the Netherlands, specializing in cute and whimsical characters. He has extensive experience working on children’s toys, apps, and games, and now focuses primarily on his own comic series, heyheymomo, which follows the adventures of a dog and frog who are best friends.

His work is lighthearted and designed to brighten your day, even if just for a moment. You can explore his comics on Instagram @heyheymomodraws and find prints at heyheymomo.com.

The post Meet the artist behind Firefox’s new community-created app icon  appeared first on The Mozilla Blog.

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