The art of chaos: Visual storytelling in Chainsaw Man

Yoru and Denji as seen in Chainsaw Man manga
Yoru and Denji as seen in Chainsaw Man manga (Image credit: Shueisha)

In the world of manga, Chainsaw Man stands out in a sea of series that offer cookie-cutter art styles and squeaky-clean protagonists. But this series tears through the conventional storytelling. Tatsuki Fujimoto’s dark, violent, and often absurd series has taken the world by storm not just because of its storytelling but because of its art. It is raw, unhinged, and unlike anything else on Shonen Jump’s roster.

At first glance, Chainsaw Man’s characters may seem deceptively simple. It is corporate, drab, and intentionally so. In a world as grotesque and unpredictable as Chainsaw Man’s, the mundanity of these designs makes the chaos stand out even more.

But where Fujimoto strips things down in attire, he adds flair in subtler ways. Each character is visually distinguished from the shoulders up. Power has horns. Himeno and Quanxi wear eyepatches. Aki sports a tidy topknot. Kobeni has her nervous, side-parted bangs and cutesy clips. Even minor characters like Tendo and Kuros have distinct facial scars.

Denji, as seen in manga (Image credit: Shueisha)
Denji, as seen in manga (Image credit: Shueisha)

These aren't overdesigned characters, but rather, they are efficiently designed, optimized to stand out even in a world filled with blood and entrails. No discussion of Chainsaw Man is complete without mentioning its linework. Fujimoto’s refusal to clean it up. In the digital era, most manga artists use tablets that let them “undo” mistakes, zoom in for precision, and stabilize strokes.

This leads to a sleek, clean look. Fujimoto, however, embraces imperfection. His lines are messy: Faces are drawn with uneven contours, and the ink sometimes feels like it's on the verge of collapsing.

Fujimoto’s chaotic, jittery lines are what give Chainsaw Man its visceral punch. In a manga world increasingly dominated by shiny, uniform art styles, his scratchy lines stand out like a scream in a silent room.

Compare this to the endless parade of power-scaling isekai series with plastic, cell-shaded character art. Fujimoto’s art, by contrast, is instantly recognizable. You can pick out one of his characters with a single glance, even outside Chainsaw Man. That is not just style, that is identity.


Cinematic Paneling adds to the reading experience

Panel of the manga (Image credit: Shueisha)
Panel of the manga (Image credit: Shueisha)

One of the most striking aspects of Chainsaw Man is its pacing. Unlike other shonen that meander through training arcs and gradual license exams, Denji is already a devil hunter from the very first chapter. That breakneck storytelling is complemented by Fujimoto’s cinematic paneling.

Fujimoto is a director at heart. Each panel is framed like a movie shot, as the creator has incorporated wide angles, close-ups, and extreme zooms. He often uses negative space to let silence speak louder than dialogue. When a character reacts, they don’t always respond with words.


The genius world-building of Chainsaw Man

Another area where Fujimoto demonstrates is in his background work. While the characters may be drawn loosely and roughly, the backgrounds are meticulous. Perspective work, especially in cityscapes and interiors, is handled with care that borders on obsessive.

Some of the most jaw-dropping panels are those where the characters' chaos is set against meticulously rendered backdrops. We have seen scenes like urban skylines, a cramped apartment, and a hallway splattered with blood.

The contrast enhances the surreal, hyper-violent tone of the series. It is like watching a beautifully shot film with characters drawn in crayon, and it shouldn’t work on paper, but in practice, it is electric.


Final thoughts

Tatsuki Fujimoto is not the most polished artist. He doesn’t aim to be. His characters are scratchy, his lines are unpredictable, and his paneling refuses to play by the rules. But that is exactly what makes him a master. His visual storytelling breaks all the rules, and in doing so, creates something that feels truer, louder, and more alive than anything else on the shelf.

Edited by Amey Mirashi