By: Beth Kephart ,
on 12/24/2016
By: Jessica Lanan,
on 10/14/2015
Eventually there comes a time when the artist must figure out all the things that are happily ignored during the thumbnail phase: perspective, anatomy, facial expression, and the nitty-gritty details that fill the world of the picture book. This can seem daunting, but there are plenty of steps one can take in order to make this easier.
I’ve found that it’s well worth my time to make reference photos or sketches for the poses of my characters. Sometimes I had to be pretty creative to get the right angle and pose. For the balloon page, I needed to draw the mother from above, running and dropping firewood at the same time. I put on a dress, bought some firewood, and made my husband photograph me from the second story of our house. It took quite a few tries and a lot of yelling through the window before we got it right. I’m sure the neighbors thought I was crazy.
Yes, I'm wearing jeans under the dress. But it was snowing.
Models are another useful tool. They can be elaborate or simple. Sometimes a bit of modeling clay and a scrap of cloth was enough to get the right position:
Fabric scrap + modeling clay + bowl = hot air balloon baby. Please pardon my dirty window in the background.
If you’re working with perspective, it’s important to get it right. A few errors can throw the whole illustration off. I often find that my vanishing points are inconveniently distant. There are more traditional ways to deal with this problem, but since I’m a modern gal I’ve taken to using Adobe Illustrator to figure it all out.
The simple and quick method is to open the rough sketch and draw lines for your horizon and vanishing points manually with the line tool. If you have something fancy going on like a wacky three-point perspective or lots of round objects, you can take advantage of the built in perspective tool. I used this for my balloon page, making sure that all the round objects were correctly proportioned:
It looks chaotic, but somehow made sense at the time.
With the perspective lines overlaid on the rough sketch, I projected the whole thing onto a larger piece of paper as my guide for the final drawing, keeping the other reference images nearby. Here you can see the transition from thumbnail to final drawing to final art:
As you can see, the cat transformed into dad at some point along the way.
For more on this subject, I recommend the wonderful reference book by Dinotopia artist James Gurney, Imaginative Realism. If you’re not familiar with Gurney’s work, he is truly a master of his craft. The book worth a read for everyone, but is especially useful for illustrators working in more realistic styles. (No, I’m not cool enough to actually know Gurney personally and he did not ask me to promote his book. It’s just one of my favorite references.)
By: Carter Higgins,
on 8/25/2015
by Emily Hughes (Flying Eye Books, 2015)
Friends, I am beyond awe with this conversation with Emily Hughes. If you aren’t familiar with her work yet, I guarantee you will fall in love with it, with her, with a storytelling brilliance that is out of this world. Here, she lets us know both where stories come from and why they do.
And a note, you’ll definitely want to click on all of these images to enjoy them at their full resolution.
Enjoy!
Can you talk about where this book came from? And what the process was like for its creation?
Lots of things were swimming around in my head when The Little Gardener was being made. I was back home rereading a book I love, The Growth of the Soil, about a simple self-sufficient man dealing with societal pressures that seem unnecessary. He was the symbol of The Little Gardener, he’s not the personality powerhouse Wild is, he is really just a symbol for the everyman, the underdog, you, me, (my brother thinks the 3rd world) our place as a human. It’s not about him, it’s about his vision, his hopes.
There are a lot more nuances to that, but that is what it is in a very small nutshell. The process for Gardener was an outpouring, I drew and drew and drew. Because the images are so dense it was a meditative book to make- almost like making a mandala. The story process took a while, but with the images I worked on steadily through, and luckily they worked out with little drafting. That isn’t the usual, but this one felt natural to make, intuitive.
Why do you think your stories are best suited to the form of the picture book? What can you do in this form that you might not be able to in another?
If you look at my bedroom, my backpack, my email inbox, my general manner, you would be able to figure out a good deal about me. Totally scatter-brained.
It is an affliction that makes it tricky to get work done in general. What makes children’s books an appealing medium for me is that there is text to dance with. There is the written skeleton to adhere to- oftentimes my stories have layers that I have built up depending on where I am or what I’ve been thinking of while I work. There is not just one story being told in The Little Gardener. Having text keeps my brain focused when there are other ideas floating about. Because I also draw, I am able to tell the other story lines as well- they are quieter, but are still present for others to interpret if they have patience. It is a good compromise for me.
Narrative has always been an interest, I think telling stories is what I like to do- so the things I’d compare it to would be film, theater, animation, etc. I like doing illustrations for picture books because it’s 2D and doesn’t move. However, if you are really invested you can move them within your head and expand it’s boundaries to a world you truly are interacting with.
One of my favorite things is the cola can that says MADE IN HILO, HI on it. I know that’s where your roots are, and I wonder how that home has shown up in the work that you do? Or if there are other easter-egg-y things that you stick in your work?
Good spotting! Hawaii is always present in my work. I left home for university in England when I was 17, and at that time I was eager for new experiences. Nevertheless, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I miss the Big Island always. Drawing things from home is indulgent for me- it is time spent reminiscing, it is a means for me to keep connected, grounded.
The cola can was initially modelled after a local company- Hawaiian Sun. The label looks nothing like the original (and I used the non-existent ‘cola’ because I thought it would be easier to translate), but the sun made a symbolic appearance. Those cans are always around- refreshments after soccer games, trips to the beach, the park with cousins. It reminds me of happy outings. I’ll add this bit to my advertising resume…
The house that the humans live in is based on my family home. It’s a plantation-style house that my Grandmother grew up in, as my siblings and I have also done. It’s a special place.
In the scene where the gardener is chasing away the snails, there’s a ‘rubber slipper’ (you guys would call it ‘flip flop’- Hawaii’s preferred footwear of choice) strewn about. It even has the ‘Locals’ tag on it which is the same kind you get at the grocery store. There’s lots of little things from home hidden. I like having the sentimentality there, even if it’s for my own benefit.
It seems like the girl in Wild and this little gardener have some sensibilities in common, like the hope and comfort in this un-tapped-into nature. Are there big-picture-stories you are drawn to creating, both in text and in art?
There are a lot of stories I’d like to tell. I think I start off with a general character and theme and it evolves- the writing is the last part, I think the feeling needs to be understood first. In my journal these are a few themes I’d written that I want to explore:
Does ‘evil’ exist? Really?
You can, will, should feel every horrible emotion and that’s fine
Kindness trumps all
Looks vs Expectations
It’s all chance for me I think- I might read something, or watch something, or sit blankly staring at the wall even, and most times it is nothing but a murmur. But once in a good while something speaks up.
As for Wild and Gardener, nature serves as a backdrop because it is an ideal to be in sync within our most natural of habitats. Something we all still strive for- a place where we’re needed. Wild is about acceptance and tolerance, issues I was trying to practice myself. Gardener was about keeping hope alive when I was faltering with my own.
They are stories coming from a place of trying to understand, rather than a place where it is understood.
—
Carter, here.
You guys. I keep reading these answers over and over and feel like it’s such a gift to get this glimpse into a storyteller’s heart. Because Emily is fascinating and brilliant and our conversation gave me so much to wrestle with and enjoy, there’s more! Come back tomorrow for the second part. More pictures, more process, more book love.
Whatever you do, get your hands on this book as soon as you can, for hope and home and heart.
Huge thanks to both Emily and Tucker Stone at Flying Eye Books for the images in this post!
By: [email protected],
on 6/21/2015
How Big is Too Small?, Jane Godwin (author), Andrew Joyner (illus.), Penguin, 2015. Can size hold you back? Can size determine your value? Everyone and everything, from the miniscule to the enormous, has a place in this world. We all have important jobs to do. But Sam wonders – “How big is too small?” […]
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By: Carter Higgins,
on 5/26/2015
by Stella Gurney and Natsko Seki (Phaidon, 2013)
Do kids’ books have room for one more smart pigeon? You’ll be glad you let this one in, because Speck Lee Tailfeather is another flier with a healthy confidence and a chatty nature.
Speck’s mission is world travel, focusing on buildings from a bird’s point of view. He sees things differently.
His words are a travel journal of sorts to his pigeon friends. To his love, Elsie. And to us.
There’s a lot to look at, from speech bubbles to side bars to fascinating tidbits. The layout and voice are both unusual in the very best way. And if you just shake off what you expect from picture books and settle in, your flight from city to sky and back will be worth it.
Your tour guide, after all, is an expert in the unusual.
This one is for treasure hunters, trivia fanatics, architecture buffs, or anyone hungry for some off-the-wall-pigeon-fare. You never know.
Pair it with A Lion in Paris. Speck travels farther than France, but matching up the Parisian buildings (not to mention the books’ head-to-head size battle and their animal points of view) would be a fun thing for storytime.
We had another successful northeast ohio kids art class, this time making 3-D food drawings! We used the medium of pastel to create our own interpretations of artist Wayne Thiebaud’s pop art paintings.
This class incorporated the use of 1 and 2 point perspective drawing! We also practiced adding a light and shadow side to objects. The results were wonderful!
We created pop art milkshakes,
Milkshake drawing
Milkshake by Maura, age 6
Upside down ice cream cones,
Angry Ice Cream by Dexter, age 10
And came up with our own pop-culture object. Shown below is a smart phone. Great idea, Dexter!
Smart Phone by Dexter, age 10
The post Northeast Ohio Kids Art: 3-D Food Workshop appeared first on Scribble Kids.
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By: Carter Higgins,
on 5/19/2015
by Ruth Krauss and Margot Tomes (Four Winds Press, 1973)
I’m not a real wild-and-crazy kind of person.
Last Saturday I took a Pilates class at 3:30, and the teacher said it’s always such a weird time because most people like to spend their afternoons at the beach or the ballpark. Or perhaps they have to get ready for their evening cocktail hour, and finishing close to 5:00 doesn’t work. But I told her that it’s my favorite time, because then I can be home in pajamas having sort-of-flat champagne before it’s even dark out.
She looked at me funny.
But on some of those pajamas and champagne Saturday nights, I go vintage book shopping online and find things like this.
I love this book.
I love Ruth Krauss.
I love the way her words describe the bizarre and complex world of kids’ heads. And their perfectly simple and sensible world. It’s kind of all wrapped up together for kids anyway, which is strange and endearing and other-worldly.
Each spread has one line, a bright orange to the illustrations’ muted browns. The only other color is the blue on the cover.
And the page turn acts as a sort of puzzle: the last bit from the page before starts the new thought.
Each thing is little. Each thing snuggles up right under the towering mushroom. Each thing is so firmly kid.
The tiny stories ramble on underneath, in those playful monologues that might seem like nonsense. This is where kids are experts.
Grownups, consider this. You might not understand. You might not have any use for a little potato. But, as the girl with the bow in her hair promises, “Little potatoes are especially nice.”
It’s weird. It’s wonderful. And if it fits under a mushroom, it’s fair game.
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By: linda sarah,
on 4/26/2015
By: Alex Guyver,
on 4/12/2015
We all have experiences as of physical things, and it is possible to interpret these experiences as perceptions of objects and events belonging to a single universe. In Leibniz’s famous image, our experiences are like a collection of different perspective drawings of the same landscape. They are, as we might say, worldlike. Ordinarily, we refer the worldlike quality of our experiences to the fact that we all inhabit the same world, encounter objects in a common space, and witness events in a common time.
The post The world as hypertext appeared first on OUPblog.
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By: James Gurney,
on 3/7/2015
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| Layout sketch for Dinosaur Boulevard, pencil on tracing paper, 5 x 10 in. |
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| Dinosaur Parade Layout, pencil layout, 7 x 14 inches |
By: James Gurney,
on 1/2/2015
by Martin Kemp.
By: Alice,
on 10/9/2014
For over thirty years my primary specialty has been the prevention of secondary stress (the pressures experienced in reaching out to others.) During these three decades, I have experienced periods during which the situation has become more difficult for those in the healing and helping professions. For the past several years up to the present, I believe this has become the case again—with an even greater, far ranging initial negative impact, not only for professionals, but also for those whom they serve.
In some cases, the impact I have noted is quite dramatic. When getting ready to speak to military chaplains in Germany, many of whom returned recently from Iraq and Afghanistan, a colonel walked up to me and said: “Before you give your presentation on resilience, I want to give you a caution.” “What is it?” I asked. “There are a lot of ghosts in this room,” he said. “What do you mean by that?” I responded. After a pause, he said, “There’s nothing left inside them.”
Such cases are often termed “acute secondary stress.” This occurs when helpers and healers encounter trauma in others in such a dramatic way that their own sense of well-being is psychologically contaminated. As a result, they too can begin demonstrating the symptoms and signs of post-traumatic stress. Their dreams can be disturbed, their sense of security disrupted, and their overall outlook on the world dimmed.
However, during these times, I have found that a possibly even more disturbing pattern is one termed “chronic secondary stress,” or what has long been called “burnout.” Although this sounds less dangerous, and is certainly not as dramatic as its acute counterpart, I find it to be more worrisome because it is so insidious. Marshall McCluhan, a Canadian philosopher of communications, once said, “If the temperature of the bath rises one degree every ten minutes, how will the bather know when to scream?” In today’s society, I don’t believe we know when to scream or, in the parlance of what I would term “compassion erosion,” know the signs of when it is essential to strengthen or own a self-care program so we can continue to have the broad shoulders to bear others’ burdens as well as our own.
This is not only an American problem, it’s a worldwide one. After presenting a lecture on maintaining a healthy perspective to an audience in Johannesburg, South Africa, a social worker said that she had had enough and was going to leave the profession. When I asked her why, she said that she worked with women who were single parents, had been sexually abused, and were living on the edge of poverty. When she would go to court with them because of the rape they had experienced, they would need to take a day off from work; something they could ill afford. Yet, often the judge would just look at them and say, “Oh, I haven’t had time to look at the material. Schedule another time to come back.” She was clearly despondent and felt she wasn’t making an impact, despite her efforts to help the women that she served.
Even when the individual is initially optimistic and energetic, staying the course can still be problematic. A professional caregiver for the Veteran’s Administration enthusiastically greeted one of the returning Vets when he came in for his initial appointment. He responded by saying, “Boy, you are full of great energy.” To which she smiled and replied, “You have served our Country well. Now, come on in and let us know what we can do for you.” Yet, in the past months she has had to deal with the unpleasant reports that seem to tar the whole VA. Few reports include reference to those workers who are doing good work and truly respect the deserving clients they serve.
The problem goes beyond these events of course. Everyone, not simply helping and healing professionals, are being bombarded with negative and, in some cases, tragic events either directly or indirectly: news of the horrible outcomes of wars in the Middle East, physicians being sued not for malpractice but mispractice (even though no one can be perfect 100% of the time), financial stress due to the unavailability of good paying positions, educators being hounded rather than supported by parents when their children are corrected or not given the grade they expect, clergy being treated with disdain even though they have done nothing inappropriate themselves, nurses being unappreciated for their role as representing the heart of health care… The list is endless and causes both a drain on one’s personal quality of life and an increase in compassion erosion (a decrease in the ability to reach out to others in need on a continued, natural basis).
So what is to be done? Well, to start, several essential steps must be taken by all of us—not just those among us who are in the helping and healing professions. One of these actions is to reframe any efforts at helping others in our circle of friends, family, and those whom we serve so that we focus on faithfulness (which is in our control) instead of success (which never totally is). In the case of the South African social worker, I emphasized to her that she was the only one present to the poor abused women whom she served and this, in and of itself, was of crucial importance and was definitely a positive support.
In addition to appreciating the power of presence, spending time on self-care is also important because one of the greatest gifts we can share with others is a sense of our own peace and a healthy perspective – but we can’t share what we don’t have. In a restaurant, workers are mandated to wash their hands after they go to the lavatory so they don’t contaminate the food of those they serve. In the hospital, the workers must also wash their hands before as well as after they use the bathroom to decrease the occurrence of cross contamination. The same is necessary psychologically for those of us who serve others—even if it is simply our families or co-workers. We must take the necessary steps to be resilient so when encountering negativity, we are not psychologically infected by their problems. Of what good can we be when this happens?
Finally, recognizing the importance of alone time (time spent in silence and solitude or simply being reflective and mindful when in a group) is essential. When I was up on Capitol Hill speaking to some Members of Congress and their Chiefs of Staff on the topic of resilience, I took away an important quote by a former Senator. When asked what he felt was one of the greatest dangers facing the Congress today he replied, “Not enough time to think.” We need some quiet time to be mindful or we will not make it.
We are all in a tough spot now as compassion erosion seems to be spiking for the present. Many of us feel even more than ever before that life is not good and we have little to share with others. However, taking a page from the posttraumatic growth (PTG) literature is essential: namely, some persons who experience severe stress or trauma have the possibility to experience even greater personal insight and depth in their lives that would not have been possible had the terrible events not happened in the first place. So, chronic and acute stress need not be the last word. They may even set the stage for a life of greater, not less, compassion and an appreciation of what and who is truly important to us. However, for this to happen, we need to recognize the danger and do something about it now.
The post A spike in “compassion erosion” appeared first on OUPblog.
By: Faith Pray,
on 10/8/2014
They say each season has a rightful place:
A time to scribble,
A time to paint.
A time to read good books,
A time to dream up new ones.
A time to craft words,
A time to delete.
A time to face the music,
A time to dance in the face of it.
It's the natural breath of our days -
The ups and downs of waves. 
Summer rushed to Fall a smidge too soon in my neck of the woods.
Birthdays, school starts,
First wiggly teeth,
Rounded hula hoops of doings.
Responsibilities loomed.
"Nobody else but the rosebush knows
how nice mud feels between the toes."
- Polly Chase Boyden
By: Carter Higgins,
on 9/30/2014
by Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen (Candlewick Press, 2014)
You know Mac and Jon. You love Mac and Jon. Now meet Sam and Dave. You’ll love Sam and Dave.
Don’t rush into the pages just yet. This is one of the best covers I’ve seen in a long while. If we weren’t so aware that Jon Klassen (that insta-recognizable style!) is a contemporary illustrator, I would wholeheartedly presume that it was some vintage thing in a used bookstore. A find to gloat about, a find that makes you wonder just how you got so lucky.
The hole. The space left over. The words, stacked deeper and deeper. The apple tree whose tippy top is hidden. Two chaps, two caps, two shovels. One understanding dog.
Speaking of two chaps, two caps, and two shovels, check out the trailer.
(I’ll wait if you need to watch that about five more times.)
The start of their hole is shallow, and they are proud. But they have only just started. Sam asks Dave when they should stop, and this is Dave’s reply:
“We won’t stop digging until we find something spectacular.”
Dave’s voice of reason is so comforting to any young adventurer. It’s validating that your goal is something spectacular. (Do we forget this as grownups? To search for somthing spectacular? I think we do.)
Perhaps the pooch is the true voice of reason here, though he doesn’t ever let out a bark or a grumble. Those eyes, the scent, the hunt. He knows.
(click to enlarge)
And this is where Sam and Dave Dig a Hole treads the waters of picture book perfection. The treasure, this spectacular something, is just beyond the Sam and Dave’s reality. The reader gets the treat where Sam and Dave are stumped. Do you want to sit back and sigh about their unfortunate luck? Do you want to holler at them to just go this way or that way or pay attention to your brilliant dog? Do you root for them? Do you keep your secret?
The text placement on each page is sublime. If Sam and Dave plant themselves at the bottom of the page, so does the text. If the hole is deep and skinny, the text block mirrors its length. This design choice is a spectacular something. It’s subtle. It’s meaningful. It’s thoughtful and inevitable all at once.
(click to enlarge)
And then – then! Something spectacular. The text switches sides. The boys fall down. Through? Into? Under? Did the boys reach the other side? Are they where they started? Is this real life? Their homecoming is the same, but different. Where there was a this, now there is a that. Where there was a hmm, now there is an ahhh.
Spectacular indeed.
I like to think that the impossible journey here is a nod to Ruth Krauss and Maurice Sendak’s collaboration, A Hole is to Dig. That’s what holes are for. That’s what the dirt asks of you. It’s not something you do alone or without a plan or without hope. Sam and Dave operate in this truth. They need to dig. There’s not another choice.
(image here // a first edition, first printing!)
Sidenote: I’m pretty thrilled that these scribbles live in my ARC.
Look for this one on October 14th.
SAM AND DAVE DIG A HOLE. Text copyright © 2014 by Mac Barnett. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Jon Klassen.Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Candlewick Press, Somerville, MA.
By: Carter Higgins,
on 8/26/2014
by Zack Rock (Creative Editions, 2014)
Zack Rock and I haunt some of the same circles on the internet. I have a tshirt with his work on it thanks to Vintage Kids’ Books My Kid Loves (how cool is that header?), and I have long admired his work thanks to some tea time at Seven Impossible Things here and here. And once upon a time in 2012, Zack wrote a hilarious joke for a Hallowtweet contest run by Adam Rex and Steven Malk.
I remember that well, cause in fun-facts-here-at-Design-of-the-Picture-Book both Julie Falatko and I were runners-up in that contest, and the real prize was getting her friendship. Start of an era, for sure. (Although Zack did get an original piece of Adam Rex art, and we’d both admit to coveting that a little. See below!)
So. I’ve had my eye out for this book for years. Years! And I was so happy that Zack spent some time chatting with me about this smorgasbord of stuff and story. He also said he “answered the living daylights” out of these questions, so I sure hope you enjoy the living daylights out of them like I did.
Welcome, Zack! (That jovial picture is from his blog, where he has killer posts like this one on bad drawings and perspective. Check it out!)
One thing I know that’s true of kids is that they love a billion teensy and scrutinize-able details in books. Your book starts out with such cool stuff on the endpapers, that I almost (only almost) don’t want to keep going! Do you have any kind of catalog for these curiosities, or did you just create anything and everything that felt right? Is there a backstory for each of these elements?!
I drew whatever felt right, “right” being subject to how exhausted my imagination was at the time. And though I’d like to leave the history of the curios up to the readers’ interpretation, I carry a backstory for each in my mind—some more convoluted than others.
For instance, in the museum there’s an antique, penny arcade cabinet inspired by the Musée Mécanique, which houses scores of these old contraptions in San Francisco. So to honor them, I fitted my museum’s machine with a tiny, top-hatted automaton of one of SF’s most curious citizens: Norton I, self-proclaimed Emperor of the United States of America (a real guy). So plenty of thought went into that curio.
On the other hand, another curio is an apple with a faucet sticking out of it because I was thirsty when I drew it.
(I love the way this whole book starts. I feel like I’m in really good hands.)
Thanks! I like to consider myself the Allstate of illustrators.
What’s your studio like? Do you have trinkets and tschotskes or a cool window view?
Believe it or not, I’m allergic to collecting stuff, so my studio is bare as a monk’s cell. My mother, however, has a fondness/compulsion for antiquing in bulk; almost none of her massive collection of furniture and doodads got past the door of my childhood home without having first seen several generations of use. It lent the crowded house an air of the same well-worn nostalgia that permeates the pages of my book.
Surely you’ve hidden some easter eggs in these pages. Any hints? Any behind-the-scenes stories?
Now I regret not hiding an actual Easter Egg in the museum. Honestly, nearly everything in the book is an Easter Egg, since there’s a secret story encased in each curio. But instead of cracking those open, I’ll share a behind-the-scenes tour of the book’s present day setting.
I created the book while living in Seattle, and Pacific Northwest references are littered throughout it. The license plate on the VW Bug in the first scene reads “FRMTTRL,” an allusion to the massive concrete Fremont Troll lurking beneath the Seattle’s Aurora Bridge. The museum exterior is based on the old town hall in Bellingham, WA, and the fictional island it crashed on is named for Washington State’s notorious children’s writer, Sherman Alexie. A Washington State ferry, the Olympic Mountains, a totem pole from Pike Place Market, and a handful of other Puget Sound souvenirs also make an appearance in the book.
This book has a real undercurrent of ignored things being a treasure with a story. Are you a treasure hunter or a treasure-leaver-for-somebody-else? (I think that’s what making books is, so you are that one for sure. I guess what I’m asking is why do you think HHH was such a collector of stories, and do you see any parallels in your own life of creative curating?)
Ooo, books as treasures to be discovered, I like that! Makes me sound like a pirate.
Homer is an underdog; nobody would look at him and assume his adventures extend beyond an expedition to the local sushi restaurant. He identifies himself with the object’s he curates, so he surrounds himself with the lost and neglected, and by exhibiting their rich history to the world he literally shares his own biography.
And I’ll leave the parallels with my own life to the armchair psychoanalysts.
What came first to you in this story: words or pictures? Can you talk to being a picture book creator who deals with both parts? (And in case anyone’s wondering, my favorite line is this one: My luggage may be dusty. But my hat still fits.)
Ha, that’s the one line written entirely by my editor Aaron! He suggested it while editing the book, and I thought it was great too, so we kept it in.
Being an author/illustrator isn’t terribly different than being solely a writer, the main distinction is that you have a visual language to express the story as well. So I can employ the duel butterfly nets of text and images to capture the picture book ideas that flutter into view, jotting notes alongside small thumbnail sketches as I try to pin down plot/character/theme details. It becomes a balancing act of seeing which of the two, words or images, best conveys what needs to be communicated.
What’s your creative process like? Any weird routines? What’s your medium of choice?
My only real habit—creative or otherwise—are the nightly walks I take after work, allowing my legs and mind to wander. In fact, I got the original idea for Homer Henry Hudson during one of these constitutionals.
And for picture books I work almost exclusively in watercolor, though for other projects I work in pen and ink, digitally, or with accidental food stains.
Who are your literary and artistic heroes?
They’re all in the book! Along with Shaun Tan, Maurice Sendak and Lisbeth Zwerger—who I painted into a restaurant scene—there’s references to Søren Kierkegaard, Jorges Luis Borges, Franz Kafka, Renee Magritte, Herman Melville, JD Salinger, George Orwell, Ingmar Bergman, Charles Schulz, and of course, Homer. Even my favorite comedian, Paul F Tompkins, whose podcasts kept me company during the long hours of illustrating the book, has a cameo as a pipe-smoking painting.
Do you have a favorite piece of artwork hanging in your house? Or a favorite tune that feels like art?
A few years ago, Adam Rex held a contest to see who could fit the best Halloween haiku into the constraints of a tweet. To my surprise he picked mine, and to my utter flabbergastination he went on to illustrate it and sent me the original art! It’s incredible. I framed it above my art desk as a reminder that, with hard work and dedication to my craft, I may one day hope to be the poor man’s Adam Rex.
Why books for kids?
One of the most valuable skills to possess is the ability to approach the world and its inhabitants with wonder, curiosity and interest. What’s great about kids is that they do this naturally and without being self-conscious. My hope is that Homer Henry Hudson’s Curio Museum and future books will be something readers carry with them as they grow older and are tempted to lose that wonder, reminders there’s so much more to the world, the things in it, and yourself to discover if you approach life with an open heart.
Plus, I have nothing to say that couldn’t be said by a talking dog.
What’s next for you?
Another book for Creative Editions about the power of stories, this time from the perspective of an acrobatic pig.
How can we buy your book?
Through your local struggling independent bookseller. Or Powells.com. Or, sigh, Amazon.com.
What did I miss?
There are humanoid pears hanging in the first illustration of the museum interior, bottom of the page. Look past the table leg and Grecian urn. See that? It’s a butt!
I’m pretty sure that’s the first butt mention on this blog. Have any treasure-hunters? Or fans of hidden picture art? Since we all love talking dogs, this book is a great choice for all readers everywhere.
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Okay, so maybe it’s another of my odd habits, but when I walk into a library, hotel lobby or museum, I typically look up. Come to think of it, I look up on walks through the woods. Or when I’m outside on a cloudless night.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Hidden Lake Gardens, Tipton, Michigan
(Yes, I’ve had a few near head-on collisions, but it’s almost always worth it.) I like to see what’s up there, not just what’s straight in front of me. Looking up gives me a different perspective, both in the physical realm and that weird world that exists between my ears.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Navy Pier, Chicago
Here’s one of my favorite “uppity” quotes: “The gloom of this world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy.” ~ Fra Giovanni
I love this quote because it reminds me I have a choice. I can look down and focus on what’s painful or scary or I can look up to focus on what’s possible.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Mackinaw Bridge, Michigan
For me, looking up doesn’t involve donning rose-tinted shades and pretending everything’s perfect. I think it means, given the choice, why not be positive? Having an upbeat attitude does not have the power to influence reality. In other words, my looking up will not equate to a polished manuscript, a publishing contract or calls from agents. (It’s never that simple, but you know that already.) But looking up does reorient my point of view, my perceptions and how I choose to respond to my reality.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Grand Central Station, Manhattan
So, while it may not be magic, shifting my perspective upward . . .
1. Infuses me with hope.
2. Energizes me when my reserves are on E.
3. Takes my eyes off the immediate and helps me see the bigger picture.
4. Gives me buoyancy.
5. Makes me slightly more tolerable to be around. (And that right there is the price of admission, I’d say.)
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Chandelier, Grand Hyatt, Manhattan
I’d be a pimple-faced liar if I told you I manage to keep my head up every single day. As I’ve shared in early posts, some days I full body hug the berber. It is not pretty. I get overwhelmed with pessimism, break out in envy pox and become enveloped in self-doubt (which by the way, I am convinced is the leading cause of cellulite). When I’m looking down I become paralyzed, unproductive, and kinda pitiful. And I’m stuck with my own company. Bleh.
Thankfully, a lot of my days, with the help of encouraging friends and some stern self-talk, I can rise above that compost heap of negative glop.
Let me encourage you to remember you have a choice. I hope you choose to look up. You might like what you see when you become “uppity” too.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Shedd Aquarium, Chicago
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
John Hancock Building, Chicago
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
New York Public Library
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Giordano’s Pizza, Chicago
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Hidden Lake Gardens
Tipton, Michigan
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By: Faith Pray,
on 5/21/2014
This girl.
this one.
Winnie
(a.k.a. Kaylen)
has a bone scan and CT tomorrow.
out of sunny skies, we are all stormed over.
They've seen a spot around her femur that is "worrisome."
Worrisome.
That's a generous way of describing what this mama feels.
All my courageous muster has flown out the window.
And Winnie is my most heart-filled wildebeest.
Dreamer, writer, artist, she feels
every nuance in the room.
Like rough swallows
and puffy eyes.
We have no certain news yet, but
some of you have asked how you can help us as we wait
and I have been thinking...
Definitely prayers
and best thoughts
and any bottled courage
you can send our way.
Do they make that?
Bottled courage?
So here's what I'm thinking - what about sharing your
words?
verses?
poems?
quotes?
book recommendations - for an eight year-old adventurer and for me.
words to help us remember
that there is courage
in love,
in faith,
in hope.
By: James Gurney,
on 4/10/2014
By: Mark Miller,
on 5/2/2013
Story Four of the 2013 One series is now available.
By: Faith Pray,
on 12/19/2012
We take Christmas as we find it.
Big or little. Rich or poor.
Our December began with a broken car.
Growing kids bursting out of their coats and socks and shoes.
And a skinnier piggy bank.
So we're doing homemade this Christmas.
And humble, homemade gifts won't hurt us a bit.
In light of so much sorrow around us this year,
all we have is gratitude.
The messes don't matter.
I am unspeakably thankful for these eight small hands,
alive and healthy,
for the joyful chaos that surrounds them,
for my imperfect, half-finished jumble,
the light, the squeals, the squabbles.
The egg carton bells.
Popsicle stick snowflakes.
Trying on wreaths as hats.
What matters is already surrounding us.
Love encircles us,
wraps us in glowing strands,
and though it doesn't magically take away the sorrows
of our broken world,
Love is the thing that will mend us. 
It anchors us when winds and sorrows come.
Smooths out the wrinkles in our weary, bleary furrows.
Makes us small candles to give courage in the dark.
Simple, homespun gifts may not be sophisticated,
fancy, or exactly on everyone's wish list,
but they are offerings of love.
and I'm okay with that. 
Because love goes deeper than wish lists.
Christmas began with a gift
wrapped in old clothes and straw.
A humble gift.
A love gift.
Love to you, my friends.
Love.
Connecticut. Haiti. Japan.
Rwanda. Middle East.
Love to you. 
Picture Books We're Enjoying this Week:
The Christmas Tapestry- Patricia Polacco
Christmas in the Barn- Margaret Wise Brown, Barbara Cooney
A Child is Born - Elizabeth Winthrop, Charles Mikolaycak
Gleam and Glow - Eve Bunting, Peter Sylvada
Christmas with the Mousekins - Maggie Smith
The Little House Christmas - Laura Ingalls Wilder, Garth Williams
One Wintry Night - Ruth Bell Graham, Richard Jesse Watson
The Joy of A Peanuts Christmas - Charles Schultz
By: Faith Pray,
on 9/5/2012
(You don't print directly onto the blue paper. Don't you know the difference between a codicil and an amendment? You need fresh flower powder. Freeze-dried coffee. Powdered creamer...)
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| "Gym Ball" - by Sugar Snack |
 | |
| "Uniforms" | |
By: John,
on 8/30/2012
A collection of shots from Stanley Kubrick utilizing straight-on one-point perspective.
By: James Gurney,
on 7/20/2012
By: Claudette Young,
on 5/30/2012
Satire on false perspective, showing all of the common mistakes artists make in perspective, by Hogarth, 1753 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
People talk about attitudes every day. The subject is always revealing. This morning I came up against it yet again, but in a different way. Let me explain.
I was brushing my teeth a while ago when I heard the toilet flush. Ours is a split bath with the lavatory separate from tub and toilet. I was startled because I’d not noticed Sister moving past me, either going or coming back.
I immediately inquired if she’d done so, to which she said, “Of course!”
Color me surprised. I replied, “I must have been really focused, since I didn’t notice you walking past me.”
Her response was, “Oblivious would be a good choice of word, too.”
I’ll tell you what I told her. “I choose to take a positive stance on this one, rather than see it as negative.”
This whole exchange may sound silly, but it addresses an everyday choice we make as humans. I prefer to think of the episode as “being focused.” The opposite take is “being oblivious.” I was focused on what I was doing and what I was thinking at the time; which just happened to be what I was going to write for this blog post today.
Sister considered it as less aware. One the one hand, she’s correct. I was unaware of her presence behind me and of her proximate activity. From her perspective, what I was doing took little thought and, therefore, I should have noticed her movements.
At the same time, my perspective informs me of my concentrative ability to screen out irrelevant activity while working on the mental plane. This does not happen when I’m in unfamiliar terrain or in uncertain situations. I see it as indicative of how safe and secure I feel in my own home.
Different perspectives? Certainly. Different attitudes? Again, yes, though those attitudes are informed by expectations as well. My expectation was of safety in my home. Hers revolved around momentary awareness of my surroundings.
When we move around our world, we carry expectations, and perspectives based on them, with us and draw conclusions from those factors. Whether those conclusions are viewed as correct are, for wont of another explanation, dependent on how other individuals interpret those conclusions.
The behavior of the world’s populace is based on these factors. Until consensus of perspective arises, there can be little hope for consensus of behavior. At least, that’s how I see it.
If one small action—my brushing my teeth and not noticing someone move behind me—creates a schism between positive and negative interpretation, how much more dramatic are divisions surrounding vast actions?
Give me your thoughts on this question. How do you see perspective and its role in the daily behavior of those two-legged creatures called humans? Leave a comment below and join the discussion.
Until then, a bientot,
Claudsy
By: Claudette Young,
on 5/30/2012
Satire on false perspective, showing all of the common mistakes artists make in perspective, by Hogarth, 1753 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
People talk about attitudes every day. The subject is always revealing. This morning I came up against it yet again, but in a different way. Let me explain.
I was brushing my teeth a while ago when I heard the toilet flush. Ours is a split bath with the lavatory separate from tub and toilet. I was startled because I’d not noticed Sister moving past me, either going or coming back.
I immediately inquired if she’d done so, to which she said, “Of course!”
Color me surprised. I replied, “I must have been really focused, since I didn’t notice you walking past me.”
Her response was, “Oblivious would be a good choice of word, too.”
I’ll tell you what I told her. “I choose to take a positive stance on this one, rather than see it as negative.”
This whole exchange may sound silly, but it addresses an everyday choice we make as humans. I prefer to think of the episode as “being focused.” The opposite take is “being oblivious.” I was focused on what I was doing and what I was thinking at the time; which just happened to be what I was going to write for this blog post today.
Sister considered it as less aware. One the one hand, she’s correct. I was unaware of her presence behind me and of her proximate activity. From her perspective, what I was doing took little thought and, therefore, I should have noticed her movements.
At the same time, my perspective informs me of my concentrative ability to screen out irrelevant activity while working on the mental plane. This does not happen when I’m in unfamiliar terrain or in uncertain situations. I see it as indicative of how safe and secure I feel in my own home.
Different perspectives? Certainly. Different attitudes? Again, yes, though those attitudes are informed by expectations as well. My expectation was of safety in my home. Hers revolved around momentary awareness of my surroundings.
When we move around our world, we carry expectations, and perspectives based on them, with us and draw conclusions from those factors. Whether those conclusions are viewed as correct are, for wont of another explanation, dependent on how other individuals interpret those conclusions.
The behavior of the world’s populace is based on these factors. Until consensus of perspective arises, there can be little hope for consensus of behavior. At least, that’s how I see it.
If one small action—my brushing my teeth and not noticing someone move behind me—creates a schism between positive and negative interpretation, how much more dramatic are divisions surrounding vast actions?
Give me your thoughts on this question. How do you see perspective and its role in the daily behavior of those two-legged creatures called humans? Leave a comment below and join the discussion.
Until then, a bientot,
Claudsy
This is so beautiful, Faith!
We have a "lean" Christmas this year as well, and it makes me want to keep it this way! It's too easy to lose sight of why we are celebrating.
Have a beautiful, blessed Christmas!
Your post is a gift too. I love all your little treasures. Growing up, Christmas was all about making each other gifts in secret ... gifts of love.
A happy and blessed Christmas!
All I can do is smile after reading this, Faith. Thank you so very much. Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas!
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I can't think of a better blog post--the words, the meaning, the heart. Love to you and your family!