There is a reason the character of the Boy in my first picture books wears a red and white stripy jumper, and that reason is Maurice Sendak. Or, more specifically, that reason is an homage to my favorite monster in Sendak's most famous picture book, Where the Wild Things Are.

Like millions of others, I developed a personal relationship with this picture book when I was too small to understand hype. I came to love this picture book, not because millions of others must be right, but because it is excellent on so many levels and for so many reasons, some of which lay just beyond explanation.

Since I began making picture books I have come to realise over time that I call them just that. Picture books. Not children's books. The reason for this is twofold; firstly I don't believe they are just for children. I have met countless adults that collect picture books for themselves, and they are growing in confidence about openly admitting this in a book-signing queue. It's not for my daughter, or a friend's nephew. It's for me. Often these individuals are teachers, librarians, publishing employees, art college students / aspiring picture-book makers themselves. But increasingly, they are doctors, civil servants, bus drivers … just people who have discovered the joy of a story unfolding visually over a few dozen pages.

I refrain from calling them children's books because that implies I write them specifically for children. I don't. I write them for myself. And for everyone.

I recently watched an interview between Maurice Sendak and the US comedian Stephen Colbert and realised that Sendak and I share this trait in common. And it was then that I became conscious of something I'd probably known for a long time. Sendak was trying to satisfy himself. He was telling these stories, as much a way to make sense of the world around him as anything else. He was using them as a poet uses poetry and a painter uses paint. He was making art that ultimately transcended himself and neat classification. Perhaps as a result he was one of the first contemporary picture-book makers to discover the power of picture book as a way of storytelling for everyone. Perhaps this might go some way to explain why his books have won over so many, regardless of geography or decade – because he is putting himself, and the way he views the world on paper, darkness and all.

Sendak's final contribution to this earth, My Brother's Book, illustrates this perfectly, and possibly more directly than any of his previous works. Who could classify this poem of love, separation and death as anything other than universal? From a man who has lived a long life through trauma, pain and strife, you can almost sense an acceptance, a relief that he has reached the end of a turbulent world, and is saying goodbye gracefully.

His legacy has certainly not reached an end. I believe children and adults alike for generations to come will know and love his work.

As a young artist trying to find my style, I deliberately tried to avoid being directly influenced by – and thus compared with – such strong and unique work. However, as he so informed my childhood, I could not resist one very direct and visual tribute – a red and white stripy jumper.

• Oliver Jeffers is an award-winning picture book maker and artist. His most recent book is This Moose Belongs To Me (HarperCollins). His next picture book The Hueys: It Wasn't Me will be published on 25 April. Oliver lives and works in Brooklyn.