ABC

I've just wrapped these chaps up in stiff card and sent them on their way to Australia, along with 40 others, including such exotic creatures as a numbat, a quetzel and an ibis, painted with what I can only describe as love (erm, and paint...).  They're going to form part of some Antipodean alphabet puzzle books.  Working on this thoroughly enjoyable project reminded me of learning the alphabet too. I vaguely remember a long frieze on the primary school wall with the letters and relevant pictures, A for Apple, etc. Can't remember what we had for X, though...  for this commission it was an Xray fish, but I'd never heard of it before.  Thinking about it, it's quite stunning really, isn't it, how young brains are able to learn a sequence of 26 letters when there's no pattern to latch onto, no rhyme, tune, story or logic, just a list of discrete components that have to be learned in order?  I'd struggle with an equivalent now....

Crash course in the day job

Bit preoccupied with work at the mo so thought I might as well post something about it! Right now I'm illustrating a book for a Korean publisher, it's for teaching English to toddlers. You've perhaps already heard about the current education system in South Korea and its high standards, a controversial subject that has raised the question of whether the pressure and resulting expectation on pupils is potentially as harmful to some as it is helpful to others. I can't imagine three-year-olds from English-speaking countries learning Korean! I didn't even learn our alphabet until I was five... Anyway, that's not for me to worry about, I know. My remit is to produce sweet illustrations for a simple animal story for Korean children, and I hope I can give them pictures that will engage and make their learning experience fun.

This is one of my favourite types of commission because I've had complete freedom to create the characters and compositions from scratch. I was just given the words for each page and basic story structure. Just in case you've ever been curious about how this ends up as a finished book, here's how it goes.

First I start sketching character ideas. Need to do a bit of research and in this instance, as there aren't any monkeys or elephants etc. nearby to draw from life I do a bit of googling (other search engines are available) and look through books to help inform with anatomical details. Then I pare back the realism, try to translate them into simplified, partly anthropomorphic versions (for example, I give my animals eyebrows, they help me convey facial expressions). The character sketches start off so scrappy but eventually something stands out. Next I visualise how the pages could look, and jot down ideas as thumbnail pictures – like a storyboard – miniature versions that are just an inch or two wide. Don't need to worry much about detail, it's just to get the compositions in place. This really helps, as working out how the pages will have space for the text and how they follow on successfully from one another with enough variation (as well as helping to tell the story) is a bit of a puzzle, so the drawings themselves can be pretty rough at this stage, just indications really.

First thumbnail ideas, drawn very small

Once these are approved - various ideas may get rejected or changed - I scan them, then scale the scans up to the actual book size (generally single page edges are somewhere between 20 – 30cm), print out and trace over the basic shapes using one of my favourite possessions of all time, my trusty light box.

Oh light box, I love thee

 Next I work on these to produce more detailed, actual size, pencil roughs. I love this part of the process the most, drawing in pencil is a joy.

 Full size pencil roughs

These are checked by the publisher, there might be some amendments to make but once they've been given the go-ahead, I get the light box out again and trace the roughs onto my final artwork paper. Then I paint. I hate the halfway stage of a painting, when it just looks awful, and I have to be patient and remember it'll get better eventually, but there are so many times when I just want to screw it up and throw it away rather than persevere!

Hate this stage!

The acrylic paints I use here need to be built up in layers for best effect so it's rather labour-intensive and can be long-winded, but the good thing is that you can also paint over your mistakes or change your mind about shades and get away with it (most of the time).

The whole process from start to finish takes a couple of months (and I get to listen to music all day!)  Then when all the paintings are finished I post them to the publisher for professional scanning. Their designer will add the text in. Six months to a year later it gets printed, by which time I've almost forgotten it and, with any luck, might be working on something else.  

Gets there in the end

Get sett

Work's a bit on the heavy ticket at the mo; nine and ten-hour days, seven days a week (with occasional blog activity sponsored by Nescafe Fine Blend).  All the book illustrators I know frequently have similar experiences: long hours, tight deadlines and low pay, so we must be doing it for love.  Besides, in how many other jobs do you get to think about what a young badger might look like blowing up a balloon?!

Mental flossing

I was at the dentist yesterday and found myself reflecting on what a different experience it is now to that of forty years ago. Society's ever-increasing obsession with the 'perfect' appearance generally troubles me, but at least it's done our mouths a favour. In the pursuit of a smile so bright white it could compete with car headlights in a 'Dazzle the Rabbits' competition, and jaws so immaculately regular you could name a well-known Blondie album after them (and I don't mean Eat To The Beat), people are taking more care of their choppers. (Phew, that was a long sentence...) It's even happening here where we are famed, in the most uncomplimentary way, for our 'English Teeth'.  Dental clinics have become dental 'emporiums' and the one I go to now has a name that sounds more like a cocktail lounge than anything remotely medical.

As a typical child growing up in '70s Britain, an essential part of my daily diet was sugar, and it was usually taken two to three times a week in concentrated Spangles, Milky Way and Sherbet Pip form. It provided just the right amount of hyperactivity for important pursuits like French Skipping, but my teeth fared less well and by the time I was twelve my open mouth boasted an impressive display of silvery amalgam fillings. Then, just when I was at my most self-conscious, I had to wear two dental braces - simultaneously.  I could set off metal detectors three streets away with ease, but speaking and eating required supreme effort.

The local dental surgery was a familiar place for all the wrong reasons, so my mum used to make each ordeal a little more bearable by promising a small present on the way home. Once she'd wiped the dribble from my chin, she'd take me down to my favourite shop, Pearman & Blacker, where the delights on its many racks and displays let me temporarily forget the fuzzy sensation in my cheek or an aching jaw. No, it wasn't a sweet shop; that would have just been in bad taste. It was a bookshop.  That smell of paper-and-printing-ink overrode the essence of antiseptic in my nostrils, the crisp covers promised magic carpet rides to lands where dentists didn't exist.

I have mercury fillings, corrective braces, extractions, anaesthetics and injections to thank for the shelves in my childhood bedroom becoming filled with Puffins and other paperbacks. Mrs Pepperpot, Five Children and It, the Moomins, Spike Milligan's Milliganimals, the Children of Green Knowe and even the Wombles all came into my life via my teeth. Fortunately those frequent trips to the dentist mean they are stronger and straighter now, but I'm very glad the legacy of a '70s childhood was so much more than just the tooth decay.

Garth Williams, racial rabbits and senseless censorship

My current infatuation is with the artwork of Garth Williams. 

This must be one of his most well-known images…

...and his drawings inside are wonderful.  Apparently it’s the best-selling children’s book of all time, first published in 1952.  I’m so glad they’ve kept the same illustrations in various reprints.

What I didn’t realise until embarrassingly recently was that I already owned two books illustrated by Garth Williams; in fact I’ve had them for over forty years and simply hadn’t appreciated that he was the same artist responsible for that memorable work. I hung onto only a handful of books from my childhood and the reason I kept these two in particular was that they just evoked so many feelings.  The pictures took on a kind of magical quality for me as a toddler; I was captivated.

From 'Bedtime For Frances' written by Russell Hoban (1963)

This book helped me through many a bedtime fear...

From 'A Tale Of Tails' written by Elizabeth H MacPherson (1965)

I  felt like I really knew each creature on every page.

And I’m still captivated, so I’ve been delving back to see what else Garth Williams illustrated.  Oh, there’s a lot - over ninety books!  He had an interesting and creative life which you can read about elsewhere but one little snippet I thought I’d share here is the controversy surrounding a book he wrote and illustrated in 1958 called ‘The Rabbit’s Wedding’.   I think most illustrators, when developing a pair of story-book rabbit characters who were frequently going to be shown together, would have done exactly as he did and made them each a different colour.  It’s an obvious way to distinguish them as well as being aesthetically pleasing.  However, back then, the Alabama library system decided that the depiction of a white rabbit getting married to a black rabbit was clearly a piece of integrationist propaganda and removed the book from circulation.   Somebody even went so far as to suggest that it was ‘brainwashing’.  I love Williams’ response: "I was completely unaware that animals with white fur, such as white polar bears and white dogs and white rabbits, were considered blood relations of white beings. I was only aware that a white horse next to a black horse looks very picturesque,” he said.  He added that 'The Rabbit’s Wedding' wasn’t written for adults, who "will not understand it, because it is only about a soft furry love and has no hidden message of hate.”

In some respects, things haven’t changed as much in the last fifty years as you might expect.  Sadly many editors and publishers still look at books aimed at innocent-minded children through the cynical, tainted eyes of adults.  Now, you’re probably a bit pushed for time and I do appreciate you sparing some of it to look at this post, but if you have a few minutes more then I urge you to read this article from just a couple of years ago.  It’s about banned books - oh, and as it says in the strapline, ‘Tibet, sausages and masturbating mice’ (I’m hoping that’ll reel you in…)  It's very funny but the facts may surprise.

I’ve experienced a little of the ‘masturbating mice’ type scenario myself (ha…you’ll have to read the article!  But I’ll save you a few moments if you haven’t yet, it’s in the paragraph headed ‘No sex please, we’re American').  On more than one occasion I’ve had to tweak some of my children’s book illustrations after they were judged to be too, ahem,  sexual…  For instance, a mummy bear lying on her back cuddling her baby bear who is on her tummy, their faces close together - that was one where I had to make an adjustment to the position of mummy bear’s legs.  Originally they weren’t quite ‘shut’ enough.  I know.  The book is for 1-3 year olds.

So, from the ridiculous... back to the sublime.

From 'Charlotte's Web' written by E B White (1952)

Only an illustrator

My flagging morale was recently boosted by this blog post.  Amongst many other interesting points, it promotes the notion that good illustrators are also good artists. 

I love art in all its forms, but there’s an unspoken hierarchy in the art world, and in some people’s minds illustrators are down at the bottom of it, ranking far below painters, sculptors and graphic designers.  As if that’s not enough, children’s book illustrators have for many years been consigned to the murky depths of that particular category too.  It’s as if, because we make pictures aimed at young and undeveloped minds, we are not to be taken seriously. 

Recently I dropped in to a local gallery which sells all different kinds of lovely prints and paintings, to ask about the possibility of exhibiting there.  The owner was all enthusiastic and friendly until I actually started to explain what my work was.  Honestly, her facial expression and attitude changed so suddenly and so obviously it was as if I’d just let out a loud and pungent fart.  She nearly wafted me out of the door like one, anyway…   I didn’t get the chance to tell her that I’d sold several original illustrations (framed and ready to hang as art on your wall) at every exhibition I’ve done.  Please forgive me indulging in a bit of name-dropping, but I wanted to tell her that my buyers included the lead singer of a long-established folk rock band (oh go on then, it was Dave Cousins of the Strawbs, not that I’m suggesting that gives it credibility but, y'know…!) and the star of a popular West End musical (what is it about singers?!).  I sold a rough pencil sketch from one book to an Art Buyer from Sotheby’s who was so poshly spoken I could barely understand her, but who said (when I finally tuned in to her accent) that she loved to see a work in its unfinished form and to be able to appreciate what went into it.  I would have hugged her but I was afraid of crushing her pearls.  And yet this gallery woman looked down her nose at me and discouraged me from even showing her what I could do.  I really wouldn't have minded if she'd just said she didn't think it would be right for her, but it was the way she made me feel so inferior that pissed me off.  I should have farted as I went out the door, shouldn’t I?!

Fortunately, though, views are gradually starting to change and children’s book illustration has become more recognised as an important art form in its own right.  There are always going to be those low-end, mass-market products that cater for children in which artwork has been lazily commissioned and unimaginatively or sloppily executed, but these days thankfully there is increasing recognition of the fact that good book illustration - ok, good book art! - is to be valued.  Not only do you need the ability to draw and paint, but you need the kind of mind which can conjure up these images from within.  You only have what’s in your head to draw from (in both senses), whether it’s a trumpet-playing monkey or a dragon taking a bath (or a surfing rhino…)  It’s a huge amount of fun, but it takes a lot of energy and a particular way of thinking, and that’s before you’ve even put pencil to paper.

Not only that, but because your work is going to be used commercially and publicly, rather than sold as a piece in its own right to one person, you’re subject to a massive amount of critique.  A whole team of people get involved, scrutinising your compositional ideas, poring over your every pencil stroke, making judgements about the tiniest details, sometimes conflicting ones.  On top of that you’re working to continuous deadlines.  It can take up to six months to complete one picture book, and the advance is rarely over a few thousand pounds, unless you’re Quentin Blake or Lauren Child… 

So you do it for love.  Why else would you do it?  Not to have anyone look down their nose at you, that’s for sure.

Chocolate slugshake, anyone?

Sick of slugs?  Then I’m sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong place.  Sun Dried Sparrows is full of 'em.  Here are some more.

I got this great little paperback when I was in my twenties, on a trip to London, from one of those bookshops where nothing seemed to be in any order, just jumbled up for you to rummage through, piled up on tables and underneath them too so you had to get on your hands and knees and have a good old grope around.  So there I was on all fours when, quite fittingly perhaps, I found this.  It's one of the few books I've kept for all that time.

I’ve gathered it’s a bit of a classic - although out of print now, I think.

  

Those who know me will know that I can get a little tired of doing ‘cute’.  It helps to pay the bills but my darker inner self longs to fill pages with the weird, the wild and the ugly: bats, rats, mammoths, boars and manatees, perhaps.   I can't find anyone who'll take that risk with me...

Slugs would be just fine, wouldn't they? 

 But I couldn’t compete with these.

And just so you know…

If you do treat your slugs badly,
- like this, perhaps...

 or this…

 This is what happens to you.

Think on.

('Slugs' was written by David Greenberg and illustrated by Victoria Chessman.  Published by Pepper Press, 1983)