Any true crime fan has seen shows like CSI and Bones, with their wildly unrealistic view of forensic art. There are no holographic reconstructions of unidentified remains or picture-perfect models of potential suspects in real investigations. Even so, the role of forensic artists is vital to the criminal justice process. They create images that lead to the identification of missing persons, age progressions that spark hunts for long-elusive criminals, and reproductions that help take down terrorists—one sketch at a time.
We were lucky enough to interview Lisa Bailey, author of Clay and Bones: My Life as an FBI Forensic Artist and a former forensic artist at the FBI. With 18 years of experience in the field, Lisa gave us insight into the life of a forensic artist with the Bureau and how their work is crucial to solving crime, recovering victims, and identifying those whose faces have been lost in time.
Here’s what Lisa had to say.
Would you introduce yourself and describe your background in forensic art?
My name is Lisa Bailey, and I was a forensic artist at the FBI for 18 years. I started in November 2001, right after 9/11, and it was jumping in with both feet. I actually hadn’t worked in forensics before, but I had an extensive graphic background—working with presentation graphics and illustration. I worked at Johns Hopkins before that. It was like my whole life led up to it.
What drew you to a career in forensic art? Was there anything specific?
Kind of my whole career. I think what started it was that I joined the Navy because I couldn’t afford college. This is how things progressed: I was always drawing in school, but I never thought I could make a living as an artist because back then, there were no computers. Selling paintings on the street was being an artist. So, I joined the Navy, and I became a Russian linguist, which is what got me a top-secret clearance.
A top-secret clearance is very marketable in Washington, D.C. You can walk in with nothing, and they’ll train you.
Anyway, I got a job at Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory—literally where rocket scientists work. I was doing data processing at first, and I hated it, but I used my college benefits because Johns Hopkins supported college, of course.
I ended up working on my degree. I started my degree in the Navy, and it took me 11 years, over several careers, part-time. When I got my degree in graphics, I started working as a graphic artist there [Johns Hopkins].
I got promoted, and then, by pure chance, I saw an ad. I wasn’t looking for a job. I loved my job. I loved the people—loved everything. But I saw an ad in the Washington Post, and it had the FBI seal, and “FBI Illustrator Wanted.” I was looking at all the stuff they were looking for, and I was like: “Well, I know freehand, I know Photoshop, I know PowerPoint, I know this, I know that, I know 3D.” It was like I was perfectly prepared. Like, perfectly.
I wasn’t going to apply because, like I said, I loved my job, and I thought, “Well, there’s no way it’s a real job.” But I applied, and—shockingly—I got it. Then, after they said I had it and while they were doing all the background in 1997-98, a three-year hiring freeze came down. I was getting kind of hysterical during that time because I didn’t know when it would end. Nobody did. This was at the end of 2000 with Bush and Gore, and “Who’s elected?” and “Is the budget going to be passed?” and all of that.
Finally, the budget passed. It was on September 7, 2001, that the FBI agent came into my office and said, “The freeze is lifted. You’re as good as in.” He shook my hand and said, “Welcome to the Bureau.” Of course, four days later was September 11.
I thought, “Now it’s never going to happen.” But they were speeding things up. I was in two months later.
Wow.
So, that’s how that happened. I did not get a graceful entrance into the FBI. It was like I went in, and 9/11 was the only thing the FBI was working on. The graphics unit had been working 24-hour shifts. I came in right after that, but it was everything, every day—presentations for the director, for the president, for Congress. It was nonstop. A trial by fire. No time to bite your fingernails.
On average, what kind of training and education do you need to become a forensic artist?
To be a forensic artist at the FBI and to do the job that I did—my official title was Visual Information Specialist—first, you need a degree, preferably in art, which I had. I had a design degree. You also need to be able to get a top-secret clearance, so if you’ve ever done anything naughty in your past, you’re probably not going to get in. Then, as far as art, you need to be able to draw by hand, computer skills—back when I started, the trifecta was freehand, Photoshop, and a 3D program—the ability to be quick on your feet and multitask.
I think a lot of people think forensic art—“Oh, you just draw composites.” “You just have to be able to draw.” But at the FBI, you’re doing crime scene documentation, you’re interviewing people for composite drawings, you’re doing age progressions. I worked my way up to doing the facial approximations from a skull. I didn’t start out doing that. So, you need to have design skills. You need to have a lot.
I know a lot of people who have tried to become a forensic artist, and I tell them: Number 1, you’ve got to join law enforcement. That’s forensics. Forensics is law enforcement. A lot of them did think, “Well, I can draw—why doesn’t my resume go further?” or something like that. But the Bureau is one of the few places where a forensic artist has to do every type of forensic art. It’s the one place.
Can you walk us through a typical day—if there is a typical day—as a forensic artist with the FBI?
I can do it in phases. During my first few years, a typical day would be working on any number of different trials. You come in and check your email and whatever. I could be working on two or three different trials, doing the demonstrative evidence for that, and creating all the presentations for homicide or terrorism cases. Then, you could get an assignment: “You need to get on a plane and go do composite drawings.”
Then you have to reshelve all of your cases, and an age progression might come in. The first half of my career, I was doing everything: composites, age progressions, the skulls—all of that.
You could be working on a trial, juggling upwards of ten different cases, and they would say that it got delayed or got continued. Then you go, “Oh okay, I can put that there, and work on this deadline.”
The second half of my career was working primarily with unidentified remains. Come in, do all of the administrative stuff, and look through the different skulls. Sometimes we would do post-mortem image enhancement. That would all be Photoshop. We’d have a morgue photo, and we’d try to make the person look alive. So I might work on that for a couple of hours, and then go into the sculpting lab and work on a sculpture for facial approximations.
Here’s a big one we’re sure everyone is dying to know: Do the crime scene shows or the crime procedurals get forensic art right at all?
[laughter]
Absolutely not. Well, the first time that show Bones came on, it was kind of funny because that chick—Bones—worked with the Jeffersonian. That was code for the Smithsonian, and I worked with the anthropologists at the Smithsonian. When we worked on facial approximations, the anthropologists from the Smithsonian would come to our office and review the skulls with us. You need an anthropologist before you can do one [facial approximation]. I remember when we heard the show was going to be on, the anthropologist was rolling his eyes.
Of course, everybody who worked in this field was watching the first episode of Bones. They had a holographic facial approximation! I was just like, “Oh come on!” That stuff is just total horse—blah. (That’s my favorite cuss word.)
On CSI or whichever show—the ones that are dramas—usually when they have a facial approximation, they’re going for dramatic effect. So, it’ll look a lot more like the victim. You know what I mean? It’ll be a really awesome resemblance, which can happen, but they can’t be portraits.
There have been so many [shows portraying forensic art]. There’s a range. There are things like 48 Hours and stuff like that, where I’ve seen some of my friends be interviewed. Those, of course, will get it right. They’ll say how the job was actually done, and they’ll show artists sculpting while the artist tells the host what they’re dealing with. When it starts going into dramas, it goes off the wacky end. But I bet hospital shows are the same way—doctors and nurses are tackling each other in the hallways.
You said forensic artists needed to be able to do everything at the FBI, but what were the most common types of forensic art you would do?
In the beginning, it was a lot of imagery retouching and age progressions. We do age progressions of fugitives. Of my eighteen years, after the first nine years, there was a reorganization in the laboratory. That’s why things are kind of split. You know what I mean? So, I was in two different units.
I would say the first half of my career was mostly demonstrative evidence, courtroom evidence, and digital retouching, like age progressions and post-mortems. The second half of my career was almost all facial approximations. Working with skulls. That was most of it, which I loved.
How does that work with the facial approximations? How do you go about building a face from a skull?
So, the reason why they’re called approximations is that we cannot get exact. The reason why these people are unidentified is usually because someone in the family or friends hasn’t reported them missing. If they had, there would be DNA or something to match to the databases. When we do an approximation, we’re hoping that when it goes out to the public and gets in a database, there will be some spark of recognition.
The skull gives you more information than you’d think.
We would never work on the actual skull. The police department or the medical examiner would send the skull, it would go to the anthropology department, and they would do the whole workup—you know, “European Male. 40 to 60.” I would talk to the anthropologist, and we would scan the skull with a 3D scanner. Another unit would print a resin copy. So I would sculpt on the resin copy, and I would have the physical, the evidentiary skull next to me.
Maybe you’ve seen on skulls where they have the little white sticks sticking out, the tissue depth markers? Those are just averages of the thickness of your skin. Some artists build up all of the muscles. That looks really cool on TV, but I don’t believe it’s necessary because that’s what the tissue depth markers are for.
We know the structure of the face. We know the anatomy. If you were to look at a cadaver photo, a dissected face, and try to sculpt it in clay—facial muscles are paper-thin. For forensic work, you’re on a time crunch. You can’t spend months on it. Why sculpt all of these muscles when you don’t know exactly what they look like? They’re almost cartoonish versions you’ll cover up with extra clay anyway.
That makes sense.
You’re taking the whole face into account. A person has close-set eyes and a high forehead and a long chin because their skull has close-set orbits and a high forehead and a long chin.
Average skulls are the worst. A lot has to do with proportions. Seriously, if there’s an unusually proportioned skull, it’s excellent. Even if the features themselves are kind of average, it comes down to face shape and proportion and structure. Like, if you see a person you know in shadow, and you don’t see them in high resolution, you still know who they are because you can get the gist of their face.
Forensic sculptures are completely different from the historical ones. We don’t put color generally. At the bureau, we never did. Color could throw somebody off. They could put brown hair. What if the person had blond hair or red hair? If a family member gets that colored image in their head, they’re not going to be able to go: “Oh, that blond, brown-haired sculpture could be my red-headed, blue-eyed sister.” You know? It just doesn’t compute. And it’s not needed. It looks cool. It looks nice. But making a pretty sculpture isn’t the point.
They serve a purpose. We have to pull back from the ego of wanting to make this look better and clean it up or add more individuality. You can’t. It’s got a job to do.
That makes sense. Did you do much forensic sketch work, or is that more common in local police departments?
We would assist local law enforcement. Generally, the FBI works federal cases. Gosh, was it 30 years ago or more—the Oklahoma City Bombing. An FBI artist went out and did the sketch of McVeigh. So, yes, we would do some [forensic sketches]. Some of them just were not for the news, like terrorism things. But we did assist local law enforcement, too. If the sheriff’s department in Virginia needed a composite sketch, we’re ten miles down the road. We let them know to call us if they didn’t have a forensic artist.
There are thousands of police agencies. Having a forensic artist is pretty rare. That’s why a lot of the police sketch artists do it as a side gig. Honestly, nowadays, you hardly see any composite sketches because everybody’s got a phone and there are cameras everywhere.
What’s the most memorable or high-profile case you worked on during your time with the FBI?
I really should’ve had one to say.
[Laughter]
For me, the most memorable—it’s actually a whole chapter in my book. I went out to do a composite drawing, and I ended up not doing it. A DEA agent had been murdered in Bogotá, Colombia. So, I got called in, and it was like, “You’re getting on a plane tonight or tomorrow,” because they wanted to have composite sketches of the killers. When I got there, it was FBI, CIA, police—everybody—because when a US law enforcement representative is killed overseas, everybody descends.
I ended up not doing composite drawings because they developed video, but I got an inside look at an operation of this scale. I was there for the whole week. I was helping with intel analysis, but I wasn’t doing forensic art. It was 10–12 hours a day of everybody acting like a beehive: guys coming in in tactical gear and assault weapons, you know? And we’re having these meetings.
You’re in the command room, and it’s literally like on TV. They put up pictures of the suspect, and they’re drawing lines—that part is just like TV.
We’re in a teeny-tiny room; we’re not in a fancy room. I was there for, I think, nine days, and that just really recharged me as far as the mission. I know it sounds corny, but—by God—everybody came together. It’s like, “We’re gonna get these guys.” And they got them. They totally got them.
That would definitely be memorable.
So my most memorable thing didn’t involve doing a composite sketch or a sculpture, but I’ll never forget it. There are a lot of things wrong with a lot of places, and the FBI has its faults, but when there is something going on like that, they come together.
When I did do composite drawings, it was for child abductions. This was 15 years ago. I worked on two child abductions within the same time period. One child had been recovered. So, I interviewed the little girl who’d been recovered. She’d been kidnapped, and the guy showed her awful pictures. We don’t know if he did anything to her. I did a composite drawing for that, and it turns out the two abduction cases were related. Like when you see on TV where two kidnappings could be connected, these two turned out to be. Unfortunately, one of the little girls was found murdered.
I did the drawing for one who was recovered. I guess the guy got spooked or whatever, and he let her go. I don’t even know if I could find those two cases again. I think Wyoming was one of them. I don’t remember names and dates, but I remember the circumstances—going into the police agency, and there were camera crews everywhere. It was like, “Woah!” Just crazy. It was surreal to be in that.
As a forensic artist, you worked with a lot of distressing and graphic material. How did you deal with that mentally and emotionally?
People didn’t think I could do this because I don’t like blood, guts, and gore. I don’t like gory movies. I don’t like seeing blood and all that stuff, but I mostly did images. I did go to crime scenes, but the bodies had been removed. Definitely a lot of imagery of victims and blood and, literally, brains out there. Having your brains blown out is real.
I was really afraid the first time. I thought, “Oh my God, am I going to be able to handle this?” And, it’s true—it’s like you just go: “This is my job. I’m here to help. I can’t get all choked up.”
I did a couple that were child endangerment. They weren’t pornography. They were child recovery. Thank God we didn’t have to do a lot of that. It would be sanitizing images. So, say, there was a picture of a man with a little kid in a hotel room, we’d have to sanitize that image so you could put it out to the public so they could identify where these things happened. Just to give the investigators something to show hotel desk clerks and the like.
What upset me more than seeing bloody pictures was working on 9/11. We had to scan over 3,000 photos. We didn’t get them all digitally. We got maybe a handful digitally, so we were scanning old, horrible paper copies, and then trying to clean them up. I easily worked on 700.
These were photographs of all the people who died! That was crushing. You’d work on them, and it would be a birthday party. You’re cleaning it up and you’re retouching it, and you’re like, “Oh my God, they’re all dead.” It was tough.
I know artists see a lot worse than that, but everybody after 9/11 was a wreck. It was emotionally tough, but I guess you could say, “Well, I’m trying to do something.” Anybody who had anything to do with 9/11—working on it—had a lot of horror stories or emotional fallout.
I’m sure that must’ve been a terrible case.
Shockingly, I was able to handle photographs of bloody scenes. I was able to handle that. I mean, I was looking at morgue photos! Decapitated heads in buckets! That was a terrorism case, where they blew themselves up. Nobody was killed in that one, thank God, besides the terrorists.
What did you find most rewarding about work in forensic art?
Hands down, getting an identification of a person. My first identification, I thought I’d lose my mind. I just wanted to make sure I was doing my job right. Some people think, “Oh, facial approximation, it can’t work—da, da, da.” But it was the epitome of a perfect hit in forensic art for a facial approximation: The sculpture was shown on the news. The family was watching. The husband said to the wife, or vice versa, “That could be your sister.” They called the police. They took DNA. And that was the most rewarding for me, getting identifications.
What are some of the pressures you faced that people might not think about while searching for a career in forensic art?
The most frustrating thing for somebody who wants to become a forensic artist is that it’s like trying to be a movie star—the stars need to align. You may not be in the right place at the right time. You could be supremely talented. There are plenty of people who are way better artists than me, but I was in the right place at the right time. I saw the ad for the post, and I had the degree. The path to becoming a doctor is to go to school—and do-do do-do. But it doesn’t work that way with forensic art. It’s kind of a crap shoot.
Is there anything else that we haven’t covered that you wanted to talk about? Maybe your book?
My book is Clay and Bones: My Life as an FBI Forensic Artist. I never intended to write a book. I never considered myself a writer. The thing that spurred me to write was a really bad experience I had with discrimination and retaliation.
Remember where I said that I was in two different units? My first nine years, when I was in one unit, were great. Then I went to a different unit with different supervisors, and this one boss had a thing against forensic artists. It was bad. It was one of those discrimination things where I had to voice what happened.
What’s the expression… if you can’t be a good example, you can be a fair warning? I was able to become a forensic artist and go as far as I did despite some of the things in the field. For women—the FBI is mostly men, and you may face some of these things [discrimination].
I truly felt I had to say something, be a fair warning, explain how I handled it, and ultimately prevailed. That’s why I wrote my book.
If you want to learn more about forensic artistry, Lisa Bailey, or her time in the FBI, check out her book: Clay and Bones: My Life as an FBI Forensic Artist. (This is an affiliate link. If you purchase the book through this link, we may earn a small commission from Amazon at no additional cost to you.)