Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Loosey Goosey with Ben Clanton

My favorite part of the book making process is when the book first starts to take shape. I love drawing character sketches and creating that first dummy book. For me it is the most creative part of the process and it is when the book with all its potential has the most life. But then comes final art (a.k.a. FARTS) and I find myself wanting to make the book perfect and struggling to keep the art alive. I tighten up because I want it all to be just so. I imagine this is something that will always be difficult for me, but there are some tips, tricks and general tidbits that I have learned. These are the ones that come to mind . . .


1. LET IT GO!

And now I have that song stuck in my head and because I mentioned it you probably do to. You're welcome! This is the hardest advice to actually apply. I treat it as a sort of mantra. It can be easy (at least for me) to get fixated on trying to get a line just so, that wing or eye or whatsit to match up with the other perfectly, and making sure everything is consistent. While a degree of this is needed when creating final art it can stifle the work. Finding a balance is the tricky thing . . . allowing what you might think of as a mistake to remain and to embrace happy accidents. I find it helpful to step away from my desk. I'm far too good at butt in chair. And so I try to keep a mindset of letting things be and while not entirely avoiding reworking . . . avoiding overworking. I'm definitely not good at this. I post little phrases on occasion above my work such as "keep moving forward" as reminders.

2. MESSY MATERIALS

Some of these tips definitely don't apply to all styles but I've found this one helpful. I try and avoid media that give me too much control. For many years my go-to for doodling has been the micron pens. I think I gravitated to them early on because they did give me more control and I already felt I had so little because I didn't have much muscle memory for drawing yet. But the line from such pens is very consistent and not that dynamic. I often use a 6B pencil or colored pencils for line-work now and have been dabbling in dip pens and bamboo pens. 

3. BLOW IT UP!

A trick I learned from fellow Whatsit Jennifer K. Mann is to render the line-work at a smaller size. Jen works as small as 50% and then scans at a high resolution in order to get a larger looser line. I've often worked at 75% or 85% since Jen told me about this. Look how wonderful these wiggly-ish lines of Jen's are!


4. DESTRESS? DISTRESS!

Recently I've discovered some brushes for photoshop that I can use to distress the work. There are many grunge brushes too that can help add character and texture. They can be great for forcing yourself to lose a bit of control over the piece.

5. ZOOM OUT and LOOK at the BIG PICTURE

It can be easy for me to zoom in on a detail or spot of an illustration and spend too much time trying to fix something that doesn't look quite right to me. When I then zoom out I often find that for starters that detail didn't matter quite so much and that by actually "fixing" it I actually took something away
from the piece when seen as a whole. 

6. SPLOTS AND SPLATTERS

I've got to confess I often add mess. I'll do splatter paint or splotches of ink on a paper scan it in and set it on top of my illustration. It adds in some of that frenetic aspect of the initial sketch. What is ridiculous is that I then sometimes might move a splatter because I'n not happy with where it landed. 

7. COLOR OUSIDE THE LINES

I've noticed that there is a trend toward having the color of a piece purposefully offset. I'm all for it! And also for allowing bits of paint and color to generally go outside the lines. Any way to keep the human hand present I think helps to keep a piece alive and interesting. Again, I realize this doesn't apply to all styles but I've been trying to apply it to my work recently and finding it effective.



8. WARM-UPS AND BREAKS

I find my work suffers if I dive right in. If I allow myself a doodle or two before working on a piece for a book I start out much looser. Also, breaks can be super helpful. Taking a moment to stretch or step outside and then reproaching a pice helps give fresh perspective and can force you to reevaluate. 

9. USE A SKETCH!

Perhaps a sketch can be integrated into the final art? Perhaps not all of it but maybe a piece or two can be collaged in. I've also started to sometimes keep my sketch layers in photoshop and just reduce the opacity with the final art on top. 

10. AVOID LAYERS?

I went to a talk by Kazu Kibuishi (Amulet) and he talked about how he did the paperback Harry Potter covers all on one layer in photoshop. He treated it as a physical canvas. I think this can be helpful in forcing yourself to live with the marks you make. Though, I do appreciate how being able to get rid of a layer or tamper with just one part of a drawing because it is in a separate layer can be freeing.

Got any tips or tricks? I'd love to hear about them!

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Satellite Offices

by kevan atteberry

As creatives—writers and illustrators specifically—most of us work from our homes, and by ourselves. We've commandeered a tucked away niche off the kitchen, a large closet shared with winter clothes and ski equipment, or a corner eked out of a spare bedroom. We’ve created a place that is ours, exclusive from other house inhabitants. Some of us even have an actual room dedicated for writing or a studio for illustrating. I'm lucky, I suppose, to have a space (barely) big enough for both a writing/digital art area as well as a place for working in traditional art mediums.

Still, like so many of my solitary compatriots, when I have work to get done, I will often pack up my laptop, sketch book, pencils and pens and abandon the distractions of home. I’ll head out to a coffee shop, the library, or sometimes even a pub—my satellite offices. There is something stimulating and comfortable about the busy hum of the default world as I submerge myself into whatever world I’m trying to create.
I have only recently been able to do this regularly due to changes in my life and responsibilities. And I am still searching out the place—places—that work well for me. I don’t know if others have one special place they go or a collection of places. I have found several different spots where I like to work. And I try to switch them up. I’ve found if I have a particularly productive day at one location, it will become my “favorite place to write,” or “draw.” And I’ll try and duplicate it the next time. Which is a mistake. It rarely happens.
The next time the “busy hum of the default world” may be fractured by a loud talker, 



a loud laugher, 


or a loud squealer.


The next time, the table you sat and created so proficiently and abundantly at may be occupied. Another table probably will not have the same magic.



Sometimes people are too friendly or curious.



But there are some distinct advantages to working off-site or remotely. I am more likely to keep my butt in my chair in front of my laptop, or with pencil in hand. I am less likely to be distracted or hop up every ten minutes to attend to some banal task. Not that there aren’t distractions, there are. But distractions away from home can be different. They can have their own curious value. Call it observation. And/or unintended eavesdropping. I’ve dashed off quick sketches of fashion or characters I’ve seen and used them later in illustrations. I’ve developed ideas and learned things from what I’ve heard. I remember a particularly emphatic discussion between 3 women sitting behind me one time on hair removal. Who knew there were so many options! I don’t know how or where or if I’ll ever use this, but it was fascinating. The animated delivery was funny and I learned a new girl’s name that I may use in a story someday. And no, I am not sharing it here.

I should also mention that working off-site I’m often faced with a distraction that is far less helpful. That is the distraction of seductive pastries.



We’re lucky as writers and illustrators to be able to switch up our venues, work remotely. Other artists—musicians, dancers, ceramicists—might find it difficult to decide to go “work at Starbuck’s this afternoon.”

I have had some pretty good luck working offsite. And I truly enjoy it. It is not automatic, and sometimes working remotely leads to remotely working. This may be caused by not finding the “right” place, having distractions that are compelling but not helpful, or maybe Mercury is in retrograde. At these times I know enough to head back to the “home office.” Because if I am going to waste time, I might as well waste it doing banal tasks.


Full disclosure: this may be another reason why I work remotely. This is my studio right now. I can’t seem to get much work done here because it is such a mess and I can’t seem to clean it up because I have so much work to do. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.


kevan atteberry

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Virtual Mentors for Picture Book Makers

Hello! It's Whatsit K. Mann this time. Or Jennifer K. Whatsit, if you prefer.

When it first became clear to me that what I had to do with my life was to become a maker of children’s books, it occurred to me that my learning curve might be kind of steep.


My degrees were in history, and then in architecture--not in art or illustration, or writing for children.

And since I was potentially chucking a very decent and happy career as an architect, for something in which I had almost no skills, I knew I had to learn how to do this thing well. But I wasn't going to be heading back to school to do so anytime soon.


So, I rounded up a whole bunch of mentors and we got down to business!

What?!

I mean I rounded up a whole bunch of virtual mentors. 

Virtual--as defined by Mr’s Merriam and Webster-- is “Being such in essence or effect though not formally recognized as such.”

Mentor--as defined by Mr’s Merriam and Webster--is “a trusted counselor, or guide.”

My virtual mentors are my trusted counselors or guides. But they are my mentors in essence only. I conjure them in my imagination by learning as much as I possibly can about their work, because I wish they could be my actual, real-life mentors. I can almost hear their voices. But I have only ever met one of them.


They are masters whose wisdom, skill, and knowledge I can solicit whenever I need to get better, go deeper, solve a prickly problem, or be inspired. They stand behind me and direct my work over my shoulder, or scan through my dummies and offer feedback and suggestions for improvement. They do all of this quietly and behind the scenes, and entirely in my mind.



I found my virtual mentors by looking at mountains of picture books. 

After a while I noticed there were some books that I kept going back to. I couldn't get enough of the wonderful art, or the touching or funny or totally odd stories. 


In order to understand what drew me to those books, I looked very very closely.


I typed the stories out word for word. I read them aloud over and over in various voices to understand the rhythm and word choice. I copied the art. I emulated techniques and styles, and even searched the Internet for interviews and articles that provided insight to how the artists made their unique and sometimes mysterious art. 


Occasionally, I found concrete answers. Sometimes I had to guess and experiment myself.



I went over the books I loved the most with a fine toothed comb, and held them almost as close as my nose to analyze brush strokes and tell-tale textures, and discern word choice and structure, or how each scene contributed to the narrative arc.


I learned to look at the copyright page of many picture books for clues the artists sometimes include about their choices of materials and processes.


I drew entire books in thumbnail form in order to analyze pacing and composition and page turns and narrative arcs.


I looked between the lines and underneath the layers of color and texture for the deeper meaning of what these brilliant people had to say, and seemed to do so effortlessly.



I learned that none of it is effortless! These authors and illustrators made it look easy, but that was part of the charm of their work. In fact, they had developed their skills through grit and hard work, determination, mastery, and practice. 


And as I studied these masters, I was able to find a path to my own voice, my own style, my own way of making children’s books. By looking closely and analyzing and sometimes mimicking their wonderful work, I absorbed a bit of their wisdom, a few of their skills, insight into their process and point of view. Experimenting with their techniques opened up new ways for me to create my own work.


What a great and important education.

And it never has to end. I make it a point to read, comb through and analyze mountains of picture books on a regular basis. It's continuing education, and it's cheap, or free, and ultimately priceless.


So, I will send you off to educate yourself with a list of some of my very first virtual mentors.  Maybe you can spot their influence in my work. So many more have joined them since I started this most excellent journey (as you can begin to see in the photos above) but these listed below remain my rocks, and I will be forever grateful for all the wisdom and advice they have given me since I started this wonderful pursuit.

Starting with these two:

Although she is neither author nor artist, one of my most important virtual mentors is UrsulaNordstrom. Her incredible wit and wisdom is forever captured in the book of her letters, Dear Genius, The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom, collected and edited by Leonard S. Marcus. 


Also, Martin Salisbury, editor of several excellent books about children’s books, and Maria Popova of the excellent blog, Brain Pickings. They are two of my favorite contemporary curators of excellent children’s books. Follow their lead, and you will be educated.


And some of the others, whose work is featured in this post:


That's it for now.
Next up, November 4, will be Kevan Attebury, with a post about doing our work away from the office or studio.

Thanks for visiting, all.

Cheers,
Jen 


Wednesday, October 7, 2015

ERS Goes Undercover


Greetings, Blogfriends!
Whatsit Stanton here . . . curious about what's under the covers :)

When I received the proofs for my picture book, Henny, I was delighted to see the plans my art director at Simon & Schuster had for the hard case cover come to life. I love that Henny has a distinctly different identity beneath her simple, cheerful jacket:

It got me wondering about what lies beneath the dust jackets of other picture books, so I thought it would be fun to share some of what I found after taking a peek at my own collection.

As I undressed the books, I discovered that most of them have hard case covers that exactly match their dust jackets. For these books, there are no hidden surprises, but there is most certainly delight at the repetition. More is better, right? Case in point, Whatsit Kevan Atteberry's colorful and super fun, Bunnies!!! (2015) 


As I went along, I set aside the books that, to whatever degree, had hard covers that varied from their dust jackets. 
Here are some highlights, roughly categorized by type—some old, some new— from my modest but ever-growing collection of picture books:

 Here are a few no-title, no-image covers:
Raymond Briggs’s The Snowman (1978) picks up the beautiful blue background from the jacket.

Steig’s Brave Irene (1986) plain cloth cover takes off on Irene’s red scarf, hat, and mittens.

Maurice Sendak's, We Are All in the Dumps With Jack and Guy (1993) has, in spite of its bold jacket, a remarkably plain brown paper cover.

Then there are those with predominantly plain covers that have embossed teasers hinting at what's inside:
The classic, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (1978), with an embossed, to-the-point image!

Two little embossed ants creep onto the otherwise blank cloth cover of Chris Van Allsburg's Two Bad Ants (1988)

Barbara McClintock's Adele & Simon (2006) has a subtle embossed cat on the case, a nod to the drawing Simon is holding in the image on the jacket. 

I was especially delighted today when my copy of Phillip and Erin Stead's Lenny & Lucy (2015) arrived. The warm golden foil images on the case tie in with the raised and comparably golden title on the dust jacket:

Then there are covers where, instead of the title dropping out, the image drops out:
Crow and Weasel by Barry Lopez, illustrated by Tom Pohrt (1990)—a beautiful classic with a handsome blue cloth cover with a golden foil title.

This case title for Robert L. Forbes's collection of animal rhymes, illustrated by Ronald Searle, is a shiny blue—making it pop on the sunny yellow cloth cover.

Here are a couple of books where the title drops out, but the jacket image remains:
House of Dolls (2010), by Francesca Lea Block, illustrated by Barbara McClintock 

The Leaf Men, by William Joyce (1996)

And then, there's the unexpected:

May the Stars Drip Down (2014), by Jeremy Chatelain, illustrated by Nikki McClure, has a partial jacket, reminiscent of clouds.


When I first picked up Scott Magoon's I've Painted Everything! (2007), I didn't think it had a jacket—a tactile surprise because it looks and feels exactly like the cloth case cover!

And to get a star, you have to take the jacket off this early printing of Jennifer K. Mann's latest book!

Here are some more undercover delights, in no particular order:

hello! hello! (2012) by Matthew Cordell 

Don't Lick the Dog (2009) by Wendy Wahman

Z is for Moose (2012) and Circle Square Moose (2014) by Kelly Bingham, illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky

Apple Cake (2012) by Julie Paschkis

Ninja (2014) by Arree Chung

Mo's Mustache (2013) by Ben Clanton

The Quiet Book (2010) by Deborah Underwood, illustrated by Renata Liwska


The Crows of Pearblossom (2011) by Aldous Huxley, illustrated by Sophie Blackall

For more glimpses of what lies beneath, be sure and check out Travis Jonker's 100 Scope Notes blog posts featuring a sampling of covers from 2013 and 2015:


Thanks, friends! See you next time!
—ERS

Next up:  October 21st—Whatsit Jennifer K. Mann talks virtual mentors!