Notes from Mt. Crumpit

A New Way

2011-11-13T10:01:00.001-05:00

I went to the SCBWI Carolinas conference in Charlotte this September (fun!) and was very fortunate to meet the fabulous illustrator David Diaz. It's taken me awhile to process how seeing his portfolio influenced me. His work (which is not the kitten pictured here!) really blurs the line between illustration and fine art.

What line? some of you may be asking. I've heard the arguments before. But, in my mind, there's a huge difference between creating art based solely on having an artistic experience and creating art for a book. Even a beautiful picture book. I once met a painter at the Vermont Studio Center who said (paraphrasing) painting is like taking a walk in the woods. You know where you're starting, but you don't know where you'll end up.

When you're illustrating, you must have some idea of where you'll end up, right? If the text is about a group of penguins on a journey to Hawaii, you can't do a self-portrait. I mean, I'd like to see your self-portrait. But your art director probably would not.

David Diaz is an illustrator. But he showed us all kinds of art, which looked totally free.

And made me take a closer look at my portfolio. And about how I feel about my portfolio. I think there are some great pieces there. But I want to find a way to feel more free. Have more fun.

So I got out my acrylics and my big brushes. I've been saving them for the day I have time to go into my studio and create art for myself. Which may be a long way off, if I truly want to publish my middle grade novel and my picture books and illustrate. (and I do!)

I used my acrylics and big brushes to paint this kitten for a picture book I'm working on. He's getting ready to leave his basket for the first time. To journey forth to new adventures. And have fun.
Just like me.

Just Imagine

2011-10-17T09:45:00.000-04:00

Just Imagine..... a time when Dragons roamed the Earth. Sticking its awesome head between two turrets of a woeful castle. Because a Dragon with hideous horns is getting ready to hurl flaming fire at it and do other terrible stuff. But isn't the dragon beautiful.
Imagine.

That's what my daughter did. She drew this picture. She goes into her room, turns on an audiobook (Castle Corona by Sharon Creech is one favorite) and draws these terrible drawings. But great! Because dragons are terrible, but great. (Harry Potter I reference and I hope you all caught it)

She also did this one:

And here comes the peasant girl in rather tattered looking clothes (note the patches on her pants!) who is going to slay the evil dragon.

I wonder if her name is Madeline?

What Audrey Niffenegger and I Have in Common

2011-09-17T23:25:00.001-04:00

We both write? True. We both draw? True, but that's not what I'm talking about. We both wrote runaway bestsellers that were made into major motion pictures? Well, one of us did. Not me unfortunately. We both were presenters at the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival in Burnsville, NC last weekend? Yes!

Of course, I was there with my FABULOUS critique group, The Secret Gardeners. Our panel was called What Makes A Successful Critique Group. Which was about how, for example, two members of the SGs recently secured wonderful agents. And how we all inspire, cojole and urge each other on to be the best we can be. And how we use incentives for success, such as champagne and chocolate. My stomach was all jumbly on the ride there while practicing speaking Slowly and Clearly, which is not my forte. I am LEARNING to be more comfortable with public speaking, but I am still in the uncomfortable stage. I was hoping less than 3 people would show up, so as not to be overwhelmed by a huge audience. Was Audrey Niffenegger experiencing these same emotions? We arrived in the Courtroom which was our venue in the small, adorable town of Burnsville and sat in what I suppose might be called the Lawyer Table. We did not want to be in the jury box, as one early-arrival audience member suggested. We're not that kind of critique group. About 15 people showed up. And they all looked nice. I read my intro about our group. People laughed at the appropriate times. We had a lively discussion. Everyone seemed interested. I spoke slowly. Afterwards, many people told us how much they enjoyed it. And then we all went to hear the brilliant Audrey Niffenegger. And she really is brilliant, her artwork is amazing, her novels are amazing, she read us some wonderful, funny stories. But I noticed one other thing about her.

(This doesn't look like her either. If her presentation had gone on for another two hours, I might have gotten it right) She is just a person. A sweet, down-to-earth person, from what I could tell after hearing her and seeing her for 45 miniutes, but also just a person. Sometimes her hair escapes from her hair band. Maybe she even sometimes feels nervous. And once upon a time, she was trying to get published and not wildly famous. She might have once been in a critique group, sharing her work and dreaming of the day when her work would be out in the world for everyone to see. So, if I could be a time-travelling writer and could go back to that time when she was working and hoping and not knowing if one day....Well, then maybe we actually have two things in common.

Where I'm At

2011-08-25T11:00:00.002-04:00

For years now, I've been getting older.

We're all going through it, right? Though before I turned 40, I didn't give it much thought. Now I get out my mirror for a self-portrait and have to decide how many wrinkles to include. How dark to make the darkness under my eyes.

Include it all, I say! Because aging is what I plan to keep doing, as long as possible.

Acceptance is one thing. But how can I embrace the fact of getting older? Well, one way is to look at this drawing I just did, look beyond the wrinkles and see an accomplished artist with a strong line and a strong sense of rendering. There's real feeling here, the result of years of honing my skill, through many hundreds of drawings. And I can only get better, as I continue to work on my art (and my writing.)

So is it aging or is in improving?
I guess it's all in how you decide to look at it.

Endless Drawing

2011-08-14T22:23:00.003-04:00

I've drawn a multitude of self-portraits. Many portraits. Some street scenes. Millions of cats. But there's another kind of drawing I want to do more of.

End-less drawing. Not sketching from life. Not attempting to be an illustration. Not even a brainstorm for an idea for an illustration. Nothing to sell.

There's a great song called Doodlin' with the line:
Cause when you doodle, then your noodle's flying blind....

But I think it's more than that. Sometimes I have to draw without a goal, maybe for fun, maybe to access the strangeness in my mind. So I can see what's happening up there. Clear out the junk. Bring the real stuff out into the light.

I love the interaction between my brain and my hand which comes out through my pencil, pen or brush. Which I don't know what it will be until it's there in black and white. Surprise!

Can we ourselves surprise ourselves? I like to try.

Because it feels awesome when my noodle's flying blind. I need more of that freedom. Stream of consciousness. That's what Jackson Pollock was doing, right? I need to let my pen play. Just go. Just do it. Endlessly.....

From the Mixed-Up Files of my Mind

2011-06-28T22:54:00.003-04:00

From The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg is one of those hugely important, unforgettable books from my childhood. Two smart, funny kids run away to live for a week at the Metropolitan Museum of Art- what could be better?

Now one of my happy mommy moments is sharing favorite childhood books with my daughter, and did we have a great time listening to the audio book of The Mixed-Up Files! (yes, we did)

So when planning a trip to NYC, of course the Metropolitan Museum was part of the plan. I knew the fountain described in the book was no longer there- was it ever? I didn't think Michelangelo's Angel was real- was there a similar statue?

The first person at the Information Desk didn't know anything about the book. The second person smiled and handed us a pamphlet called "The Mixed-Up Files" Issue." We found out there's no statue such as described in the book. "The Fountain of the Muses" was once on display, but now you have to imagine it while looking at other museum fountains. The bed they slept on isn't on display, but similar ones are. We went into the Annie Laurie Aitken Galleries looking for a similar bed. We found a guard. "We read 'The Mixed-Up Files...' I said." She smiled and said, "That is a work of fiction, you know."

Says who?!!

The Fancy beds and writing desks were fabulous. "Let's run away," I said to Madeline. "No," she said, "but if you do, I'll know where to find you."

We had a wonderful time walking around the museum (and especially the Egyptian wing) thinking about Claudia and Jamie's adventure. We had our own adventure. We went to the cafeteria, of course. Madeline had a kids meal in a cardboard taxi cab.
"This is silly," she said. "I'm a little old for this kind of thing." Sounds like something Claudia would say. I only wish we could've ordered a sandwich from the Automat.

Looking over the pamphlet, we saw an insert: draw the room you would run away to and write a few lines about it, turn it in to the information desk and get a 'museum goodie.' Madeline drew and wrote about a room with a comfy bed and a cat. We went to turn it in.

The first person at the information desk didn't know what we were talking about, but she spoke to her supervisor. Now Madeline is looking forward to receiving her 'goodie' in the mail.

I spent a day with my daughter in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, reliving one of my favorite books. I guess I already got my goodie.

Cats and Balloons

2011-05-23T08:12:00.002-04:00

Because life is so precarious... like a birthday balloon about to get popped by a cat's claw.

Because balloons are so colorful... reminding us to take joy in the everyday.

Because cats are so in the moment... reminding us to live in the present (and maybe you'll get a present.)

Because balloons are transparent... letting light in is how they shine.

Because cats are silly!

Because I like cats.

What's your favorite reason for balloons and/or cats?

It's Been Awhile....

2011-05-08T21:16:00.004-04:00

...since I made some art for art's sake... or for my own sake... or for, dare I say it, FUN! I've been so caught up in trying to get published, finish another portfolio piece, working on my latest PB dummy, etc, I almost forgot.

I forgot that I love to draw and paint and sometimes it has to be:

FOR NO PURPOSE WHATSOEVER!

So when I was deciding what to do with my daughter today- thinking we should go on some meaningful memorable mother/daughter hike or something- I instead said, "How about we take some watercolors outside and paint in the yard?"

It was a beautiful day. I wanted to do a self-portrait (for fun!) When she saw me get out the mirror, she said, "What? You're not painting something in the backyard? Then I won't either." So she painted a dinosaur, asking alot of questions, such as 'how do they know what color dinosaurs were?' They probably guessed, I said. Then she asked why I put blue in my face, when there isn't any blue there. I see every color in my face, I said. (she'll understand when she studies the Impressionists)

Her painting time was much shorter than mine, so I had some guilty feelings when she was running around trying to get my attention and my attention was elsewhere. But that's okay! I don't feel guilty anymore. I did this painting (this is the part I could fit on my scanner) and I'm happy.

Next time I might paint dots, or swirls, or get really wild and do a totally blue self-portrait.
The important thing is: I'll have fun doing it.

Last Minute Poetry Month Offering

2011-04-28T08:33:00.003-04:00

This is the illustration that's in the May/June issue of New Moon Girls, a very cool magazine that's all about empowering girls.
Yea!

And, in honor of poetry month, which is almost over but we've enjoyed you and look forward to having you back next year, here's a post-Easter Egg poem.

Enjoy!

THE BAD EGG

Something’s rotten at my house,
I mean, it really stinks,
a tell-tale and unwelcome smell:
an egg’s gone bad, methinks!
We search throughout the kitchen,
desperate to locate it,
I find a mushy chocolate bar,
(my little brother ate it.)
Our quest continued through the house,
it lead us to the den
the smell got even smellier,
My father found it then.
And yet, my mother wondered,
how did it rot so fast?
That egg took time to fester,
but Easter had just passed.
We saw the egg so moldy,
twas then the truth came clear,
this was the one stayed hidden,
from our Easter egg hunt-last year!

Cat Drawings - Learning from the Pros

2011-04-16T21:43:00.009-04:00

I haven't posted in awhile partly because I just reentered the (paid) workforce- at my local library in the children's section! I am shelving books which is similar to housework only someone's paying me to do it. And now I get to be around children's books alot!

But also because I've been illustrating more than writing. Which seems to use a different part of my brain.

But I'm back. (big sigh of relief, right?!)

I'm working on a PB about cats. And so I'm looking at some of my favorite cat artists.

Starting with Arthur Howard- (and I would post his website, but I can't find one) He illlustrated all those fabulous Mr. Putter and Tabby books by Cynthia Rylant (along with tons of other great books including some he also wrote.) And talk about excellent writing and amazing illustration perfectly wed! Don't you love Mr. Putter and Tabby- and not a kid in sight. And, no, Tabby is not the kid- she's an old cat who mostly snacks and sleeps. Just lovely, fun books about friendship. And napping.

Anyway, Arthur Howard's (my hero) cat illustrations. Here are two. I love tabby. And I love his style- loose and lively, but also right on the money cat-wise. I mean, this guy can draw! But he's having fun doing it. And we have fun just looking at it.

I guess that's what great picture books are all about (ok, they're easy readers, but you know what I mean....)

Hank's Tattoo

2011-03-23T14:31:00.004-04:00

I try for a line a day- or two or three - some bit of sketching, doesn't matter what.

Actually, I don't even have to try, because I doodle. But I also do self-portraits, or draw Madeline while she's drawing or reading, draw in the cafe. And don't forget the cats.

Sometimes I go out and listen to Hank playing music- this time with fellow guitarist John Corbin at a fabulous wine bar in downtown Asheville- and I draw the musicians. They're hands are in constant motion and they make weird faces. My hand moves quickly, too, trying to capture their energy.

This one's got a little something never before seen in any Hank rendition- his tattoo. He insisted I include it, even though it's actually on the other arm. Poetic license, he said.

I'll call it a few extra lines. And, bam!, there's your tatoo.

Self-Portrait as a Wicked Witch

2011-03-17T12:21:00.003-04:00

Well, maybe not a self-portrait in the strictest sense, but I think it captures my essence.

Because sometimes I feel like flying off on my broomstick beneath a crescent moon. Feeling the wind rushing through my hair. Turning people into toads.

So I guess I could call this a self-portrait of my alter ego. Because, when I'm not busy being a wicked witch, I'm an illustrator. Or a writer. A mom, of course. Sometimes I'm even a good witch.

In Honor of Dr. Seuss....

2011-03-02T20:32:00.003-05:00

I thought I'd share my Ode to Spring. A little early, but I know you want it....
Plus March is my birthday month, which means I get to do anything I want.

What is this thing called Spring
that makes the sparrows sing,
the crickets crick,
the chickadees chick,
the hummingbirds hum,
the grasshoppers strum,
the pigeons coo,
the owls Who.
I hear them all conspire,
to form a backyard choir,
where peepers start to peep...
Don’t they know I’m trying to sleep?!

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

A Character in Search of a Plot

2011-02-05T21:16:00.004-05:00

Recently, I decided to enter a regional illustration contest. So I did some sketches, based on a doodle, based on a glint of an idea...you know how that works.

And I came up with this girl. Wow! So much personality. She even has a fabulous cat sidekick. But she does not have a plot. She does not even have a name.

Because I wasn't working on a picture book. I was merely thinking, doodling and sketching for a contest.

But now she's in the world, and, I think, she's begging for her story to be told.

I usually start with a basic (written) idea when I'm working on a picture book. Or a plot. Or at least a title. I've never started with a drawing. But I'm willing to try something new!

How do you get started on a picture book? Have you ever had a Character in Search of a Plot? Tell me- how did it end?

Giving Up

2011-01-25T22:13:00.004-05:00

Recently, I received a bit of disappointing news. Yes, I've gotten a steady stream of rejections for the past several years. But this was one of those situations where you seem to see a glimmer of light at the end of your alarmingly dark tunnel and say... oh, could it be....might it be....? And then just as the light grows a bit brighter there's a cave-in and the darkness descends even darker than before. And you wonder if anyone's going to dig you out. Or are they all having one of those great potlucks that ends in a rousing game of pictionary? Without me?! It's just too cruel!

So what did I do with my bit of depressing news? Why, I contacted my writers group, the Secret Gardeners. And they, of course, all hastened to remind me that I am, in fact, fabulous, and I have to keep writing and my day will come and those who've eschewed me will be sorry, etc.

So turns out I'm not giving up. Of course I'm not giving up! I'm not the type of person who gives up. I'm the type who has to keep writing, drawing and submitting. Plus I've come too far to give up. I can dig myself out of this eensy-weensy cave-in. I can keep going.

I have to. The Secret Gardeners are expecting me.

OMG, my daughter can draw!

2011-01-18T22:21:00.006-05:00

Madeline and I drew these cats. Two are copied (which makes us copycats) from Nick Bruel's (http://www.nickbruel.com/) wonderful Bad Kitty books. (and he is a very nice guy in addition to being such a great writer/illustrator, I know because I met him here in Asheville!)
She starred the ones she likes best. I like the two that seem to be sitting on top of each other best.
Those cats have attitude.

Bad cats are fun to draw. Playful cats are fun to draw. Curious kitties, fancy ones and very alert cats, like the ones Madeline drew here. These rather serious cats right here:

Fabulous!

Sometimes you have to wonder why you would draw anything but cats.

I'm just glad Madeline and I can be artists together.

Self-Portrait #572

2011-01-12T22:09:00.005-05:00

I admit it. Snow days have got me down. Feels like I should love nothing better than more time to hang out with my beautiful daughter.

Well, yes, we've had some fun. But mommy's getting antsy. And what I realize is, I Need My Alone-Time. I'm feeling transported to when she was a baby- which I loved so much, of course, cuddling that little bundle of sweet-smelling sweetness. But it also brought out a restlessness in me that made me wish I was a seahorse or a penguin, and the guy was in charge.

Then we scored a playdate at a friend's house. I thought I should write, but I felt so emotionally discombobulated. So I did this self-portrait.

Centering, that's what it is. Art that nobody's going to buy. Because it's just between me and my sketchbook, myself and I.

When she came back from the playdate, we had a good, long cuddle session on the comfy chair. Because she was back. And so was I. Know what I mean?

Zero Resolutions

2010-12-31T21:42:00.003-05:00

Because I can't take the pressure. And I refuse to resolve to eat healthier, exercise more, spend less time daydreaming, be more disciplined, etc.

But I could make myself some goals for 2011.
Like:
1. Sing in the grocery store more often. And louder.
2. Talk to strangers. Even if they don't appear interested.
3. Buy more glitter glue. It's glue, and it glitters!
4. Paint pictures that nobody will want to buy or hang on their walls.
5. Go to a movie by myself. Talk to myself during the movie. And shush myself.
6. Laugh more. Nap with the cat more.
7. Wear my favorite sweater daily. Even if it doesn't smell very nice.

8. Have a cup of hot chocolate at least once a week. Don't spare the whipped cream.
9. Wear all my necklaces at once. Put on too much perfume and dance.
10. Play with my daughter, rolling in the grass and/or snow. Don't think about laundry.
11. Bonus goal: find an agent who appreciates me, whom I will appreciate. Work together to get one of my amazing stories published. Let 2011 be a fabulous year.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Why How The Grinch Stole Christmas! Should Never Have Been Published

2010-12-22T21:59:00.004-05:00

AN ADULT PROTAGONIST
Kids like to read about kids. Cindy-Lou Who, the only child mentioned, is never truly developed as a character. Has she learned anything by the end of the story? Where is her arc?

SLOPPY USE OF LANGUAGE
Chimbley? I mean, really!
Besides, does anyone use the word nimbly? Certainly not any members of the target audience!

A SCARY SANTA CLAUS
Children need to trust that the fat man breaking into their house on Christmas Eve is completely harmless.

MEDICALLY INACCURATE
Hearts cannot grow three sizes in one day. Did he do any research for this book?

Clearly, How The Grinch Stole Christmas! never should have been published.

But aren't we glad it was?

Thank you, Dr. Seuss. And Merry Christmas, everyone. Enjoy your roast beast!

Very Belated NaNoWriMo Report

2010-12-07T14:33:00.003-05:00

Yes, I did NaNoWriMo this year.
No, I didn't NaNoWriMo.
Why am I being so self-contradictory?
Let me explain.
I did sign up for NaNoWriMo.
I did not write every single day (who wrote on Thanksgiving? Show of hands?)
I did write as often as I could.
I did upload a photo and record my word count.
I did not chat or forum.
I did attend one 'write-in.'
I did not write 50,000 words.
I did not write 40,000 words.
I did write 20,000 words.
So why do I feel so wimpy?
20,000 words is pretty good.
It is not the NaNoIdeal.
It is not enough to get the NaNo Medal of Honor, or whatever it is.
And I don't want to compare myself to friends with full-time jobs whose houses are cleaner than mine who DID write 50,000 words.
Before the deadline.
I really don't.
I do have a first (very short) manuscript I'm excited about.
I am thinking of it (as, I believe, John Green suggested) as a long outline of my novel.
I have barely worked on it since November.
I am consumed with holiday madness (but only in my dreams.)
I will finish this novel (I hope)
I did enjoy the challenge, even if I failed :(
I will miss saying NaNoWriMo.
I did just complete this self-portrait, showing how I feel
about not finishing NaNoWriMo (ambivalent?)
NaNoWriMo!
How are you feeling?

Extremely Belated Schmooze Report

2010-11-22T20:54:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, November 14th, at the very groovy Battery Park Book Exchange and Champagne Bar (and Champagne!) in very groovy downtown Asheville, we schmoozed like we've never schmoozed before. Okay, I didn't have champagne, but I did have a lovely glass of Shiraz.

We chatted, enjoyed the ambiance, snacks and a gorgeous autumn day outside the big plate glass windows. It was simply fabulous to be among all these great writers and illustrators. All these people who are so dedicated to children's lit. I truly had a great time and I think everyone else did, too! Hooray!!

So much talent in that place, I could've plotzed. We listened to the wonderful Beth Revis http://www.bethrevis.com/ (there she is, just over my fabulous new hairdo as seen from the back) talk about her journey to publication and her upcoming Sci-Fi YA novel ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, (Razorbill/Penguin, January 11, 2011- we can't wait!) What struck me the most about her presentation was when she told us how many books she'd written before finding an agent with this one (I think it was 11!) Wow! Beth definitely gets the prize for Stick-to-it-iveness (as well as many other prestigious prizes!) How do you keep writing and submitting after those first 11 novels don't sell?

Because you have to!

Gotta write! Gotta Schmooze!

NaNoWriMo's making me crazy, by the way! just saying...

My favorite part of the whole wonderful Schmooze was going around the room with brief introductions and hearing all the beautiful-est people there (meaning, my pals) introducing themselves as Secret Gardeners. Like we're this very fascinating underground cult and now we're coming out to the world. I'm a Secret Gardener!

Plus I got a groovy pin with a photo from the cover of ACROSS THE UNIVERSE. And I love to chat.

Thanks to (superstar) author Beth Revis for some of these pix and for being so great and telling us all about your work and your process and encouraging us to keep going!

And thanks to (superstar) author Alan Gratz (http://www.alangratz.com/) for the other pix and for being part of the funnest day I've had in awhile.

Hope to see you at the next Schmooze!

I Spy A NaNoWriMo-er

2010-11-10T11:12:00.002-05:00

She's pulling her hair.
She's wondering why.
She's banging her head against the cafe table.
She's been sitting in front of her computer for two hours, and all she ordered was a small coffee.
"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" asks the waitress, with a barely concealed snarl.
"Yes, I do want something else," says the NaNoWriMoer. "I want it to be over."
She leans over her keys.
She types some words.
She counts the words.
She realizes they are not enough.
They will never be enough. Not by November 30. Impossible.
She orders a mocha, hoping that will placate the waitress.
And help her come up with more words.
She wonders if she can find a way to write on Thanksgiving.
Or the day after Thanksgiving.
She wonders why they didn't pick a month with 31 days.

NaNoWriMo, Here I Come!

2010-10-29T10:50:00.003-04:00

Ready or Not.

Mostly Not.

Here's what I'm feeling about NaNoWriMo
(National Novel Writing Month)

1. 50,000 words in one month? What?
2. That's like a million picture books. Or something.
3. If I make it to 50,000 words (the linguistic equivalent of one million picture books) it'll be a mess.
4. A big unedited mess.
5. Then what?

I've been thinking about taking on the NaNoWriMo challenge for awhile. And this character from a novel that's been in my head awhile is hinting very heavily that he's ready to come out. Breathing in my ear, actually.

But his story breaks my heart.

Picture books are nice. They don't break my heart.

Too late. I already signed up.

Did you?

Culture Schmulture

2010-10-18T21:55:00.002-04:00

On Sunday, my husband and I brought our daughter to hear this UNCA concert. What a lovely idea!

But then the squirming started. I'd brought papers and markers along to draw the musicians (like mommy!) Her and her little friend drew doggies and superheros instead and made each other giggle. Shhhh!

The friend had a very squeaky seat, especially if you rocked it back and forth just so, which no amount of shushing could stop.

Then my daughter started whining.

"I'm hungry, mom!"

Shhh! (frantic pointing at the numerous serious musicians)

"But I'm really hungry, mom!"

Shhh! (point, point)

"Why did we have to come here? It's so boring!"

(shocking, I know)

What's wrong with today's seven-year-olds, I have to wonder. Don't they know culture when they see it? :)

It was hard not to feel disappointed that my daughter wasn't a perfect angel during the concert. Unlike the time I took her to the ballet when she was six months old (she cooed adorably for awhile, then fell asleep)

All she wanted to do when we got home was play 'Avatar: the last airbender' with her friend. They were both the Avatar. And neither one was hungry after I threw together a quick dinner. What's wrong with these kids, anyway?

Hey, anyone want to play Avatar with me?

A Hole Is To Dig

2010-10-12T10:15:00.004-04:00

With all the buzz about that darn NYTimes article on the demise of the picture book and the great rebuttals-- (http://www.philnel.com/2010/10/08/picture-book-is-dead/ )

I decided I too shall rebut.

Because I love picture books. I adore picture books. I lurve them.

So I thought I'd post this fabulous Maurice Sendak illustration from Ruth Krauss' A Hole Is To Dig. One of the all-time great picture books, in my estimation. And it doesn't even have a narrative arc!

Subtitled "A First Book of First Definitions," the author thanks some kindergarten children, who I assume provided the amazing text. Words like 'A face is something to have on the front of your head' and 'The sun is to tell you when it's every day' and 'Cats are so you can have kittens'

Had to be written by kids. I just don't know any adults who are that perceptive. So let your kid be a kid and let your kid use her wonderful visual thinking to understand the concept of story and let your kid read picture books! As long as they want to, even when they're all growed up.

Because, like the final page of A Hole is To Dig says, "A book is to look at."

Self-Portrait at 30

2010-10-03T21:30:00.002-04:00

Going through a forgotten portfolio, I came upon this painting. What I remembered was working on it for many months, and then showing it to my (not very pleasant) housemate at the time. She looked at it and didn't say a thing.

So I figured it wasn't any good. And I didn't even like her!

Now I find it and say, 'wow!' I guess I need to learn not to listen to unpleasant people. Why has it taken me so long to figure this out?

Think of all the people in your life (including your inner critic) who in so many ways tell you it's no good and might as well give up. Now take a big eraser and erase them all!

Then find a critique group (or other supportive people) who want to consider what's good about what you're doing (and help you figure out what needs to be changed.) Surround yourself with people who believe in you and want you to succeed. And when you find them... or if you found them already.. give them a big hug.

Because we do need to believe in ourselves. But it's also great to have other people who do, too. (thank you, Secret Gardeners!)

My Hands Won't Keep Still

2010-09-29T14:10:00.004-04:00

I was lucky enough to attend the SCBWI Carolinas conference this weekend-- with some of my fellow Secret Gardeners! (you know who you are)

Of course I drew some of the presenters--
pictured here (roughly sketched):
Alan Gratz, wonderful (local!) author
Liz Waniewski, Senior Editor, Dial Books
-- also awesome and sweet!
Alvina Ling, Senior Editor,
Little, Brown Books
-- so funny and smart (and prettier than my sketch!)

I would have drawn the talented and fun Elizabeth Dulemba or the charming and handsome Laurent Linn, Art Director at Simon & Schuster, BUT they kept showing us these fascinating images, so I had to keep my gaze upward...

BUT during the other presentations, sketching seemed unavoidable. Like crossing and uncrossing my legs. My hands seem to want to keep moving. It's almost annoying. And I worried about being distracting (or annoying) to other attendees.
(at least I stopped rattling my candy wrapper when you told me to, Donna!)

I don't want to be a compulsive person (she says, rolling and unrolling a scrap of paper) but maybe crazy-hands is part of being an artist. (horrors!)

hey, at least I'm not robbing banks.

How do you direct your crazy energy (when you're not at your computer/in your studio) Were you the one with the candy wrapper sitting right behind me? Don't worry; I understand.

apologies for not doing that linking thing w/ everyone's name-- can someone tell me how to? You definitely should check out Alan Gratz's great books!

Roald Dahl's Birthday!

2010-09-15T12:46:00.007-04:00

was this past Monday. (I believe he would've been 94.)

And a peculiar thing happened, which led to another peculiar thing, which led to the most peculiar thing of all.

The first peculiar thing was our most wonderful indie bookstore, Malaprops, hosted a Roald Dahl event: local authors were invited to read from James and The Giant Peach.

My daughter was in afterschool, and for a second I thought, 'Well, I guess I'm not going, then,' but the next second I realized how much I wanted to hear James and The Giant Peach. So I went.

The next peculiar thing was that while I was greatly enjoying all the local authors' renditions of James and The Giant Peach (and drawing them and sorry I didn't get their names, but that wasn't the point, really) our most wonderful Asheville bookseller, Caroline Green, approached me and whispered something in my ear.

One of the authors hadn't shown up. Would I like to read James and The Giant Peach?

Would I?! And practically become one of those legendary local Asheville authors right then and there?

The next peculiar thing was I overcame my aversion to standing at a podium before even a small and book-loving group of people and got up and read. The final peculiar thing was looking at the audience and registering the dearth of children. And realizing we love Roald Dahl because we love him, not because we know he makes our children happy.

Because we love great books. And that's who we are. That's why we were there, at Malaprops Bookstore, listening to each other read about cabbage-faced aunts, giant snarky centipedes and Cloud Men.

Thanks, Caroline. And thank you, Roald Dahl. And Happy Birthday!

Summer Reading

2010-08-30T14:05:00.002-04:00

The Hunger Games and Catching Fire were a big part of my summer. Suzanne Collins is so brilliant, and I aspire to be some fraction of the storyteller she is. I don't have a copy of Mockingjay yet :( Go ahead and pity me. But I am #9 on the waiting list of my local library. :(

Also loved Clay Carmichael's Wild Things. She does a great job of making a stray cat a very real (and complex) character. Plus I like her drawings.

And I actually read two grown-up books this summer. The first was The Memory Keepers Daughter, because I'm always behind the times in my reading list. Awesome and amazing.

And I caved and read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, because my mother-in-law left it at our house and his books are taking up a huge section of Malaprops, my favorite local bookstore.

Before I started reading, I asked my MIL if it was very violent and she said 'not really' so I went for it. In fact, it's extremely violent, especially by my wimpy standards. I think I'll stick to YA and MG from now on. Or maybe I'll just read picture books (my daughter and I are currently re-reading the Traction Man books by Mini Grey, which I think are my favorite contemporary pbs.)

BUT, you might say, Hunger Games is also violent. I can't deny you are right about that. So why do I love them? Of course, they are disturbing books. But also strangely uplifting--- because I believe Katniss and all the good people will prevail in the end? Maybe also because, as futuristic novels, I can read them as metaphor and therefore the violence is a little more distant.

Do you know what I mean? Do you stick with YA? And what did you read this summer?

Starting Second Grade

2010-08-18T20:53:00.003-04:00

Today. I hung around awhile, then asked my daughter, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Whatever you want," she said.

She was at the table with all her little friends happily decorating her math folder. The girls were drawing flowers, spirals and rainbows.

You want your kid to be independent. And then she's independent and suddenly you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Another parenting dilemma. Is this worse than the terrible threes? (probably not)

But what am I going to do when she wants to go to college? Just say no?

The Best Reason to Marry A Musician Is...

2010-08-10T17:00:00.004-04:00

free concerts!

At Bar Bes on 9th Street in Brooklyn, for example. At your local cafe. Even at Joe's Pub, once, which is a very elegant venue and part of the Joseph Papp Public Theatre.

Sometimes it's just me listening to him practicing in the bedroom. Near my computer. Sometimes it's irritating!

But sometimes it's a bunch of musician friends hanging out on the porch late at night drinking beer and jamming. That's the best. I love hearing great musicians on my very own porch. Sharing the love.

And now I'm sharing these drawings with you. Musicians are great to draw! So expressive and gestural. Plus they often make weird faces while playing.

So go ahead and bring your sketchpad next time you go to The Wedge Brewery, here in Asheville (where my husband plays) Or draw a street musician.

Or draw yourself singing in the shower! Maybe you'll put even put it on your blog.

Bulletin!

2010-07-27T10:06:00.002-04:00

The good news is: I'm in this month's SCBWI Bulletin!
I love the Bulletin! I love SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators)
I love owls!
Looks like he's surprised to be the subject of a story.
I hope it's not a case of libel.

How's your summer going?

In Defense of the Big Bad Wolf

2010-07-25T16:58:00.002-04:00

I've got one thing to say about this issue: don't believe everything a kid in a red hood tells ya.

Additionally, I miss blogging! Summer fun is sucking up all my time and energy. The sun is frying my brain.

Also, when will school be back in session?

Plus, I guess I need a little structure.

Hope everyone else is enjoying this free-for-all we call summer. :)

Artist On Vacation

2010-07-07T22:19:00.003-04:00

We were in Florida for a week. It was way too hot, of course, but thankfully I brought some drawing materials.

And I asked this fourteen-year-old girl, our friends' daughter, if she would pose for me. We sat in the SandBar at Club Med for over an hour. She seemed to like the completed drawing. And I got to draw someone other than myself.

A vacation from self-portraits!

I asked her if she read blogs. Yes, she said, mostly political ones.

Isn't that great?

So, go ahead, artists. Ask someone if you can draw them. They'll probably enjoy it. And you might just learn something new and unexpected about a person.

Dear Agent...

2010-06-22T07:57:00.003-04:00

I've been submitting to agents and trying to figure out why it feels so different from submitting to publishers.

I think it's because it feels like you're trying to get someone to be your friend.

Dear Agent,

I'm a great person and fairly brilliant. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. My mom thinks so, too! Should you become my agent, I'll send you the best chocolates daily. I've been specializing in chocolate for the past forty years, so I know which ones are the most delicious. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about.

Your new best friend,
Me!

Maybe that's the letter I should be sending out (along with this endearing painting)

The process has me thinking of a silly poem I wrote awhile ago, of which I believe I shall print an excerpt here now (cue the schmaltzy background music)

Please consider my book,
(in your slush pile, unread.)
I’d like to get it published
some time before I’m dead.

Ever feel like that, too?

Now That's Just Silly

2010-06-16T21:20:00.003-04:00

Who wants to read a blog about the weather? Not me. Not you. And certainly not me.

But, gee, it's awful hot lately. You forget what it's like in the dead of winter and you're dying for summer to hurry up and get here. (and now I can hardly remember winter. It's not that cold, is it? I mean, you can always bundle up)

It's so hot my brain is bubbling in my overheated brain fluid inside my whatchamacallit. Hard to think, is what I'm saying.

So I figured it's time for something that's just plain silly.

And a cat in boots reading Puss in Boots while waiting for the D train is pretty darn silly.

Got something silly to share?

Go ahead. Make my day!

An Italian Journey

2010-06-10T12:01:00.004-04:00

This is from 1999 and I think I was looking at Lucian Freud alot. I was also living in Brooklyn and visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Brooklyn Museum of Art, MOMA, all those amazing places that now seem mega-miles away.

I was probably ten years old or younger the first time I visited the Met. How lucky I was to see all those paintings by Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, El Greco, Matisse, and on and on and on. I remember seeing a Monet from across the room, how it glowed! Of course I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to make something that beautiful.

The good news is I'll be in NY in August for a visit. I will visit as many museums as I can and try to absorb it all. I just googled The Met and here's one of the exhibitions that will be up while I'm in NY:

An Italian Journey: Drawings from the Tobey Collection, Correggio to Tiepolo

Yeh, baby!

I'll be taking my Italian journey. I guess it's been my Italian journey all along.

Yes I Can!

2010-06-07T14:48:00.004-04:00

Someone recently hired me to do this illustration. She saw my other work, she visited my website, she liked what she saw, we met and clicked right away. She wanted a mermaid and sea creatures. I love mermaids and the ocean. Perfect subjects for watercolor, which I love. All good.

So where did that voice come from that kept telling me I couldn't do it? My parents always encouraged me. I've always been told by teachers, mentors and peers that I'm a good artist. My art has been exhibited in a bunch of art shows (in NYC!), I've sold a bunch of paintings, I've worked as a professional illustrator before. So where did that voice come from?

I know you all know what I'm talking about. Because I've read about it before. From writers and artists much more successful than myself.

But it makes me mad. Does it make you mad?

Because I do believe in myself and my work. And I do love this finished illustration. But I also hear some little part of myself telling myself, 'you got lucky this time, but it probably won't happen again."

It's not luck! It's years of hard work. And talent. And passion. Yes I Can!

Could it be that we need to hear that voice to spur us forward? Nah, I don't believe that. I think I could have worked as well (or better!) if the voice was saying, "You're a great artist! Trust yourself! Keep going!" Actually, I did hear that, too. The voices were going back and forth in my head. It was pretty annoying. Listening to a Harry Potter audiobook helped a little.

Will I stop hearing the voice of negativity once I've illustrated a picture book for a major publishing house. Or five? Ten?

Those of you who are out there already, writers and illustrators, with several published books to your name, tell me, does it go away?

Self-Portrait As An Illustrator

2010-05-28T15:58:00.003-04:00

I received my BFA in Illustration in 1985. Then moved to NYC and took classes at the Art Students League of NY with Marshall Glasier, a very brilliant and talented artist who did not see illustration as art.

Not to scandalize all my illustrator friends, whom I admire and respect, but I understood his point. Art is where you can make anything you want in any way you want. Illustrators work within parameters: of the text or the concept or whatever your client is looking for. Of course lots of amazing art happens within those parameters (Beatrix Potter! William Steig!) But there is a difference.

I gave up on being an illustrator so I could be a 'real' artist. I painted in the lonesomeness of my studio, which was usually just a corner of my bedroom. I took lots more classes. Did alot of figure drawing and self-portraits. Morphed into an abstract painter. And had a kid.

And rediscovered picture books. Drew my kid. Decided I'd like to get paid for what I do well (instead of working as a secretary, teacher's aide, jeweler's assistant, and on and on) So I bought a new set of rapidographs (and they did look beautiful to my eyes) and put together a portfolio. Starting to get some work. Featured on the wonderful Pen & Palette. Have several illustrations in the SCBWI Bulletin.

So what am I now? A painter who is delving into illustration? An illustrator who used to be an abstract painter? A little bit of both, I guess. I have to admit, I do miss dripping and throwing paint onto canvas (I suppose I could do that in my illustrations, but it's not the same-- art serves its own purpose, unlike illustration)

You might disagree with me. That happens sometimes. You may believe there is no difference between fine art and illustration. I think there is a difference-- for example, most illustrators I know who've been working for a good number of years and have talent, get paid for what they do, at least sometimes. Unlike most of the painters I know.

So go ahead and tell me why I'm wrong, if you want. Or you can just enjoy the picture.

Why I Love My Cat

2010-05-24T15:10:00.003-04:00

There were many adorable kittens, tabby and orange and black, at the shelter that day. Myrtle was three years old. Not what you'd call a beautiful cat, with a coat we didn't know what to call (somebody suggested 'brindle' which does not sound very nice)

She did not say a word. Just looked at me with these big eyes that said, "I do not want to be here. Take me home and I promise I'll be a very good cat."

Myrtle has been true to her word. She's cuddly and sweet, sleeps with us and curls in your lap when you call. I think she even knows her name (unlike some cats I know!) She lets Madeline pick her up and carry her around the house. And she never says, "Hey, Constance, have you heard from any agents or editors yet?"

I know I'm not the first to say this, but I could learn alot from Myrtle. How to laze around. How to do some lovely stretches (even down dog!) How to look at people with big irresistible eyes so they'll take you home and feed you.

What have you learned from your cat (or dog, if you're that kind of person?)

Why I Love Mermaids

2010-05-17T08:49:00.004-04:00

I love the ocean. I grew up on Long Island and going to the beach has always been my favorite thing to do. Jones Beach, Brighton Beach, Coney Island and all the lovely (cold) beaches in San Francisco. I miss the ocean, now that we live in the mountains in Asheville.

Maybe I was a mermaid in a former life. Communing with the dolphins. Wearing a shell and seaweed bra. Shooting through the waves like a non-human cannonball.

When I was little, I had a book of The Little Mermaid with one of those covers where the mermaid changed as you tilted the book one way, then the other, then the other way, then back again. Which I spent alot of time in a mermaid-induced hypnotic trance doing. Plus it had ridges to run your fingers over.

So now I've written a tween novel about a girl who becomes a mermaid against her will. My character is her own person. What? Of course, she's not me. I was never a mermaid. Not in this life, anyway.

A friend asked me which Disney princess I wanted to be when I was little. Why do I hardly remember any of those movies (and why don't any of those princesses have noses?) Maybe because we hardly ever went to the movies (too expensive) We went to the beach (free) Hooray for my childhood!

And, of course, The Little Disney Mermaid came out when I was all grown up. And even now, I don't want to be her. I want to be Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid, beautiful and tragic and turned to sea foam in the end.

So what kind of princess are you?

Some Things Are Too Hard to Blog About

2010-05-11T15:15:00.002-04:00

Mother's Day is a difficult day for so many people. My mother died in 2001. Losing your mother is the world falling away from under your feet. I was 38 when she died, but I was also a child. Because it doesn't matter how old you are, we all need our moms.

This is a print I did several years ago of my sister-in-law, Jehan, and her baby Serena. It is so solemn, which was not my intention. But it suits this post. Because the mother-daughter connection isn't all sweetness and light. But boy is it intense.

The best thing that happened to me this past Mother's Day is a book from my daughter with art and poems. They've been studying acrostic poems in school and this is the one she did for me on LOVE:

Love

Vegetable

Eating

That's right.

Thanks, Madeline. For giving me happiness on mother's day.

Self-Portrait As A New Mom

2010-05-03T11:57:00.003-04:00

How dishevelled I look! How worn out! Almost fading away, like the wicked witch at the end of the W of Oz. This drawing is dated April 2004. Madeline was one year and two months old.

When I was pregnant, so many parents said, "You'll never sleep again." Of course I thought they were exaggerating. Well, my daughter is now seven and she still often wakes me up at 6:25 with a loud, "There were aliens in my dream, mom!"
At least she's no longer nursing. And she's almost sleeping through the night.

I miss sleeping until 9 or even later sometimes. Such a foggy happy memory from the distant past.

So should I look forward to the teenage years when she'll sleep more? Or will I be lying in bed awake with other worries?

Parenting is quite an adventure, isn't it? What are you struggling with? How do you express your creativity around those issues?

My Little Butterfly

2010-04-26T09:10:00.004-04:00

Here's a drawing I just did of Madeline in our hammock. But now I think it looks more like she's in a cocoon. And she is becoming a butterfly, so that's right.

She used to be just a baby. See? She couldn't walk, run, or play soccer at all. That was only seven years ago. Just a little sigh of time.

Now she sits in the hammock reading on her own! And plays soccer with her dad. Rides her bike around the neighborhood. Tells me what's what.

There's a beautiful song by Sweet Honey In the Rock

Your children are not your children

they are the sons and the daughters of life's longing for itself

they come through you but they are not from you

and though they are with you

they belong not to you...

She belongs to herself. And she's stretching her wings and will be stretching them for years to come. Preparing to fly. I hope I can be there for her in any way that helps. But in so many ways she's got to learn to fly on her own.

How do you see your children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews? How can we be there for them without getting in the way on their road to becoming butterflies?

The Rabbit Is Back

2010-04-18T12:00:00.002-04:00

You may already know that I didn't do this wonderful painting. No, this one is by Albrecht Durer. Why do I love this painting? Is it because of the amazing attention to detail? This rabbit (or Young Hare) is as dignified as a king, as serious as the Pope.

And now it's illustrating my blog! to say The Rabbit Is Back. The one who scurries and scampers and munches grass in the yard outside my dining room window. We breakfasted (?) together this morning. Yesterday I watched him (or her) being chased by a cat. The rabbit was faster, of course.

Not that I never saw these kind of backyard animal shows in Brooklyn. I once saw my cat fighting a praying mantis, which definitely goes on my list of Strangest Sights Ere I Have Witnessed.

I stepped outside early this morning and so many birds were busy doing their bird-things. Mockingbirds, robins, sparrows, mourning doves.
Another post about spring. I can't help it, I'm so happy that terrible winter is over.
I bet you are too!

April is the Coolest Month!

2010-04-14T09:08:00.003-04:00

That's what all the birds are saying. Hear them? They're right out my window, loving April.

Everything's budding. Our little lilac bush, that refused to flower for two years, decided her time has come. Hooray for lilacs! Forsythia, tulips, daffodils, the dogwood tree...

And soon the day lilies. And lots of other beauties.

So why did Mr. Eliot say it's the cruelest month? Because love is in the air? Because April makes you feel like everything is possible, everything is new, and then later on we still have to face December? Maybe your heart gets broken and your dreams don't soar quite as high as you hoped?

You know what I say?
I DON'T CARE!
It's spring and anything can happen. Life is new. My lilac bush is blossoming.

How does spring make you feel?

Do you find it very cruel?

Maybe you should go outside and smell the flowers.
Happy spring, everyone!

More Molly

2010-04-09T21:36:00.004-04:00

http://www.sportsmansparadiseonline.com/Live_Owl_Nest_Box_Cam.html

I'm not kidding. You have got to check out this owl with her four owlets. Momma Owl is so exhausted, she's falling asleep on one foot. I remember those days!
And her babies look extremely un-owlish, to me. More like baby vultures. Then again Madeline looked like a gummy bear when she was a newborn. But cute!

And look how well she draws now. I think her owl looks so wise, don't you?

I'm learning alot from my daughter!

Constance, Is that You?

2010-04-06T18:32:00.004-04:00

Who is that tough broad?

I did this painting in 1992, maybe. Back when I smoked cigarettes (unfortunately.) I hardly recognize myself in this painting. Then again, yes, I do.

I'm not going to apologize again for the smoking. We can get past that, can't we?

Because I like the way she looks so film noir. And like I'm not gonna take nuthin' from nobody. Or is it more of a melancholy lost in regretful thoughts moment? I paid my dues, now I want to sing the blues?

Or all of the above.

So reason #57 for doing self-portraits: to remember all the different parts of you that continue being you, even so many years after you've rolled your last cigarette.

Molly the Owl is Taking Over My Life

2010-03-29T21:28:00.004-04:00

http://www.sportsmansparadiseonline.com/Live_Owl_Nest_Box_Cam.html

You must check this out. Molly the owl with her four newborn owlets on a live cam from CA. I just watched her ripping off bits of mouse flesh to feed her babies. It's amazing. She ruffles her feathers, fusses over the kids, sleeps alot, waits for her man (McGee) to bring more food. Owls are weirder than I even thought. She really does turn her head completely around sometimes. Because she can. She carefully nudges the tiny owlets with these razor sharp talons. She's got a huge head. Sometimes she does the tree pose.

So Madeline and I of course had to do some owl drawings. Here's what we came up with.

I know. My drawing is okay, but Madeline just totally caught the essential owlness of the owlet. If only I could draw like that! And I know I once did draw like that. I lost it. And I'm desperately trying to get it back.

Like that famous Picasso quote: It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.

I just googled it, and I'm glad I did because I'd only heard the second part before. But this is much better. And it really is true.

You want proof? I got your proof at the top of this post.

So next time you hear someone say "My kid could've done that." say "Then this artist must be really something."

On the Cover of the Pen and Palette!

2010-03-24T20:17:00.001-04:00

Okay, it's not the cover of the Rollin' Stone, which I'm beginning to think I may never be on! But it is the SCBWI Carolinas wonderful newsletter, and I'm proud to be featured on the cover. Check it out if you are so inclined:
http://scbwicarolinas.org/Pen-and-Palette

How To Keep It Going

2010-03-23T09:21:00.004-04:00

Think of my title as a question--- How to keep it going? Despite an ever-thickening folder of rejection letters, lack of funds, no contract in sight, and continual reports on how nobody's buying picture books.

This print is based on some xeroxes I did of my face back when I worked as a secretary. Yes, more office art, and it suits my current mood. I xeroxed my face alot, I must admit, and could that explain my forgetfulness or tangentialness?

Do you hear birds chirping where you are, too? Have you been watching the live owl nest cam?

I didn't want to blog because I'm feeling down. Because how do I keep it going when I've written so many stories I believe in and worked on my art for so many years without getting much in the way of financial compensation, which is how we define success in this culture, like it or not. Plus a girl's gotta eat!

Well, one way is to remember Jay Asher's talk at last year's SCBWI NY conference, "How to Get Published in Twelve Years or Less." And now he's a NYTimes Bestselling Author.

Or my friend Beth Revis who, after writing and subbing for years, finally landed a three-book deal with Penguin (go, Beth!)

I like the way that sounds: a three-book deal with Penguin

Or seek out an inspirational quote, like:
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" Anais Nin (thank you, Andrea)

Or remember my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies Kirikou and The Sorceress. Kirikou has been digging and digging trying to find his way out of a tunnel. He falls asleep saying "in the morning I'll turn back." And the image is Kirikou asleep against a thin wall of dirt. He wakes up, digs a little more, and he's made it to the other side.

Last night before I went to sleep, I thought, 'what would I have been if I hadn't chosen to be a painter, illustrator, and writer?" And I realized there really never was a choice. This is who I am, and this is what I must do.

So maybe I'll get a few more rejection letters this week. Or maybe I'm just about to break through that wall.

Now how do you keep it going?

Locating Myself In Art History

2010-03-19T16:53:00.017-04:00

Okay, these artists are all much better than me, but it's still fun to blogxhibit myself among the greats!

Self-Portraits, Then and Now

2010-03-13T17:17:00.002-05:00

The first one is from 1996. The second one is from today. So what's changed since 1996?

I cut my hair (and dye it now.) I got married. My mother died (in 2000.) The twin towers. I had a baby (in 2003.)

I stopped drawing for awhile there, though I was doing some wild abstract paintings. A few months after Madeline was born, I wrote a picture book. A few years ago, I bought myself a new set of rapidographs. And a bunch of woodless pencils (my favorite kind of pencil!) and a few china markers (hard to unravel.) So I'm drawing again.

But what else is different? I feel like I hardly know that bold, confident young woman from 1996. Before all that crap happened. Before I spent so much time worrying about my parenting skills, or lack of. She looks so carefree.

I am not carefree. But I do have my set of rapidographs and a brand new bottle of ink.

And I've written a bunch more books. And I am more likely now to go to conferences and talk to people I don't know. I am more able now to send my stories and drawings out into the world and greet rejection letters with a 'that's okay; I'll just keep trying." I am more able to say "I'm an artist." Because I really am. So maybe this is the new, bolder Constance, after all. The one who is writing a blog in 2010. Which is something I never would have done (technology notwithstanding) in 1996!

Draw As You Go

2010-03-04T20:27:00.007-05:00

This weekend I was at Spring Mingle, a fabulous SCBWI conference in Atlanta. I met and heard agent Josh Adams, literary legend Jane Yolen, and two amazing editors, Cheryl Klein and Meredith Mundy. I heard so much useful, helpful information on craft and on submitting. On the history and the current state of publishing. On persevering and persevering some more. I was surrounded by people who love kids books as much as I do, which is one of the best reasons to go to a conference!

And then there were the puns. My god, the puns. Come up with a kids-lit related pun and win a lunch date (kinda) with one of the presenters. I went to the conference (and roomed!) with two critique group buddies, and we were each successful punners,

with: When little rabbit's pjs fell down, old rabbit saw his goodnight moon. (or something)

and: Paddington tried to hibernate one winter, but he just couldn't bear it.

and: What happened when frog parked in the fire lane? He was towed.

So much happened in the course of three days, I've been thinking on how to blog about it and it's making my head hurt. BUT I can show you some sketches.

Because drawing is what I do.

Like this one I did in the Beauty Bar in Manhattan. Isn't she great?

In My Dinner with Andre, Andre says: I could always live in my art but never in my life. (or something)

I can live in my life sometimes. I just try to draw what I can. Like this rabbit in my yard.

Yes, I know I'm no Beatrix Potter. But we used to live in Brooklyn, so what d'ya want from me?

Mostly I'm drawing Madeline. And she's drawing me.

So what did you learn at your conference?

Oh, and thanks for the wine, Donna. And thanks for the chocolates, Ameliann. And thanks for saving me a seat at the agent's table, Andrea. I appreciate you guys!

Why Crows Matter

2010-02-23T21:11:00.005-05:00

Why crows?
Loud enough to startle you when you're walking across the yard. Black enough to leave their imprint on the sky. I love to see them menacing their way across the frozen grass. Or sitting so high on a branch, screaming to the heavens.

I wrote this poem:

What Crow Know

Crow watch- wonder
how we do
without wings, pale things
ground-bound, so down

Up
sail Crow
in blackness, forgetting
limp limbs- thin lips
which no can crow or-

Caw!
Crow fly fast.

A blot of ink circle my
sun- my blue- and more
amass, a murder of

Crow-

So bead eyes in tree,
what see- what see-
me? growing slow

caw!

Crow know
Crow go.
go.

I read this poem today and realized I wrote it two years ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. But I was lucky.

As a matter of fact, I got my mammogram results today-- and everything's okay. I even have a poem.

I want to dedicate this to all the many women who are dealing with or have dealt with breast cancer. Please share your story. Do a painting, write in your journal, do a drawing. Or write a poem. And imagine how great it will feel to look back years later and see what you made.

Me as Frida and Others

2010-02-16T20:55:00.003-05:00

This self-portrait, from 1999 maybe, was obviously influenced by Frida Kahlo. I really got into Frida's amazing art in my early 20s.

Interesting that her first self-portrait (or so) looks like a Modigliani.

So she wanted to be Modigliani. I wanted to be Frida.

When I was in middle school, I read a book by Andy Warhol and wanted to be him too (maybe his art didn't influence me but his big dose of COOL sure did!)

In high school, I was fortunate enough to take figure drawing at a local university. Then I briefly wanted to be DaVinci (but we all want to be him at some point, right?)

I've also wanted to be Egon Schiele, Chaim Soutine, Alice Neel and Jackson Pollock (who wins the best quote of the universe with (when asked if he painted from nature): "I am Nature.")

Nowadays I'd like to be a combination of William Steig, Arnold Lobel and Beatrix Potter. Maybe with a pinch of Mo Willems.

Or I could just pinch Mo Willems. He's so cute!

Did someone just break into a chorus of "I gotta be me"?

Yes, I know, I gotta be me. I wanna be me. But I also want to take a blogmoment to thank all the artists and writers in the world for putting it out there so I could find it. And maybe borrow a little bit. Thank you all for keeping it going.

Now, who do you want to be?

2010-02-15T15:24:00.001-05:00

Check out the really fun contest at this wonderful blog: http://www.faeriality.blogspot.com/

I'd say more about it, but I'm on Day 4 with a sick and irritable birthday girl :(
Not me!
Madeline is seven today. A very grouchy seven. But cute.

Another Post About My Kid

2010-02-11T15:18:00.003-05:00

Madeline drew this portrait-- of me! I only wish I were so glamorous, but I do think she caught my essence.

On our morning walk to school today, she said, "Mom, is it true that snakes used to have legs?"

Thrown somewhat by the unexpected question and early hour, I replied, "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Why?"

"Well," she said, "if we evolved, then snakes must have evolved too."

"And, " she added, as my head continued to spin, "can you believe we started being a million years ago? We were covered with hair. Lots of it. And then, in 1492, .... oh, no, that was something else."

Madeline pauses for a breath.

"We're having punch tomorrow!"

for their Valentine's Day party, of course. This disjointed thinking, this jumping from one concept to the next is what makes my husband observe at times that having a kid is like living with a crazy person. I think it may also be somehow the seed of creativity.

After all, tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

And we used to be covered in hair!

Now, who wants some punch?

Subway Drawing

2010-02-08T09:46:00.004-05:00

I admit it. I miss New York. Yes I complained about the constant noise, nerve-jarring commotion, hectic pace and the subway.

What? I complained about the subway? Hard to believe. Because the subway was like one endless free figure drawing class. I'd steal glances or find people who were sleeping, reading or too spaced out/tired to notice. Or I'd just look at the whole car and assume an expression of someone who's attention was somewhere else, and try to draw the whole scene. There's so much going on in every car: musicians, poets, sleeper, dreamers, angry old people and crying babies. People from every corner of the world.

One time a young man approached me (and everyone's in their own private tiny cramped space on the subway and does not want to be approached--- there's probably at least one crazy person per subway car and you never know)

You an artist? he asked me.

Yes, I am. I said, hoping he wasn't going to yell at me for staring at his girlfriend or something.

Want to draw me?

Sure!

And there he is. Abe. 23 years old. February 14, 1998.

I drew him. He smiled. I offered to give him the drawing.

No, he said. You keep it.

Valentine's Day. I guess Abe wanted to give me a little something special. Thanks, Abe!

The Storyteller

2010-02-02T20:32:00.002-05:00

Concetta Lombardo, born Montalto, in Sicily, Italy in 1901. My grandmother.

She could barely read or write. Her father took all his daughters out of school when he discovered one of Concetta's sisters had been passing notes with a boy. Concetta moved to New York city after she got married at age twenty. She never learned English very well. Her family understood her, but with her very thick accent, strangers often could not.

She could make something amazingly delicious using the simplest ingredients. Lasagna to die for. Homemade pasta. And the pizza, my god, the pizza. We loved her food and her natural warmth. We loved her for the rental cabin at the beach, into which she squished an unfathomable number of grandchildren. Cooked for us daily, carrying real china to the beach for a wonderful and unique picnic. Spaghetti on the beach!

And we loved her stories.

She said she got them from the radio. The one about the man who wanted to send figs to his brother through a telegraph office. The mouse who fell into the spaghetti sauce to meet his tragic end, leaving behind his bereft cat-wife. The king who learned the importance of salt. She would sit you in her lap and start talking and the world would melt away. Just the sound of that beautiful Italian-English.

Once when I was older Concetta asked me to tell her a story. I couldn't think of anything to say. And then I started telling her about all the people I'd seen in the East Village (in the 80s): girls with blue hair sticking out in spikes around their head, wearing jeans that were deliberately ripped. Boys with multiple safety pins in their ears. She laughed and laughed at my stories.

I knew my descriptions were not as wonderful as her stories. But I also knew she was happy to hear me talking, telling her about the strange world around us. We talked and shared stories to talk and share our love for each other.

If she was here today, I would love to tell her the stories I'm writing now. Of colorful snails, braggy turtles and lonely seagulls. I think she might like them. And I'd like to be able to thank her for showing me the wonders of storytelling.

Yes, I do. So thanks, Grandma Lombardo.

Self-Portrait #3

2010-01-27T21:40:00.004-05:00

This one doesn't look like me.

I did it without a mirror at my desk on the piece of cardboard at the end of the memo pad with magic marker and white-out. That's right. Office art.

How I used to make that white-out and those bright pink post-it notes work for me! I made tiny flip books. I photo-copied my face repeatedly. So did a friend of mine, and she faxed one to me with the words, "Help, I'm trapped in the copier!"

Not very funny, I know. We should have been doing our jobs. Answering phones. Filing. Even filing our nails. But we just couldn't resist the lure of too many notepads, staplers, markers, date stamps and paper clips.

I'm sure some of you have used your valuable work hours to make art (and you know who you are!) You could call it a shameful indulgence on someone else's dime.

Or you could call it an act of rebellion.

So how 'bout we have an online exhibition. Of all the ways you let your creativity burst out while trapped in the copier.

I'll start with this piece.

Meet the Hubby

2010-01-23T11:27:00.002-05:00

My husband's a great musician. And I admit that's partly why I fell in love with him. When I first met him he was playing the bass. What's sexier than that? When I met him the second time around he was playing guitar. And uke. And steel guitar. Sometimes even the drums. And then he bought a trumpet. And then (it only gets worse) a banjo.

Living with a musician is not as fun as seeing a musician at a gig. All that jamming on licks and riffs on his axe (impressed with the musician lingo yet?) It's the same notes over and over and over and over while he's learning a song. Sometimes lots of other musicians come over. It gets pretty loud around here. And let's not forget the incessant whistling. And humming. The guy practically sings in his sleep.

So I wrote this poem:

Oh What a Noisy Daddy!

My Daddy is always whistling
or clapping or humming or singing!

Oh, no, here he comes with his banjo,
Please, daddy dear, can you play so-low?

Our house overflows with his trumpets
basses, ukeleles and drum kits!

He’s even got two ancient sitars,
and goodness knows how many guitars!

Says Dad: Understand my position,
It’s not my fault I’m a musician!

So now he's teaching my daughter how to play the uke. I may have to build myself a sound-proof room. In the meantime, they're pretty cute playing music together. Adorable, actually.

Sometimes they even let me sing along.

Meet the Muse

2010-01-20T11:57:00.005-05:00

Yes, I'm one of those moms who had a kid and started reading kids books and said, "I can do that!"

Not that "that" is that easy! And not to disparage moms. My critique group consists largely of moms who write. At writers conferences and in SCBWI chapters across the country--moms who write. These are some tough and talented moms we're talking (and you know who you are).

So sometimes your kid is your muse. Mine certainly is. Just look at her. Put a bowler hat on her head and a whole new world is born.

She gives me new ideas daily. Yesterday it was The Grouchy Kitty. When I pointed out that sounded a bit like Bad Kitty, she said, "Oh, this kitty isn't bad. Just grouchy. All he really wants is a hug."

One of my stories evolved from when she was three, stomping around the house and banging an imaginary drum. Suddenly she stopped and said, "But that wasn't enough music for those monsters!"

Another time she showed me her drawing of a boy with a cape and swirls of color coming out of every body part. Who's that? I asked. "Mom!" she replied, shocked at my ignorance, "It's Colorman!"
Of course, not all my stories are based on Madeline-isms. One came out of a dream I had where I was playing catch with a squirrel. We had a lot of fun, that squirrel and me.

Who is your muse? Or how do your kids inspire you?

2010-01-17T21:52:00.002-05:00

Here is the second in my self-portrait series. I thought it would be great to search through all my many sketchbooks and find my self-portraits and organize them so I could say, this is the first self-portrait I ever did, when I was four years old, this is the second self-portrait I ever did, when I was four and 1/8 years old, etc. That sure would have been great!

Unfortunately, even though I'm a hard worker, I'm also extremely lazy (you know what I'm talking about!) so while sitting at my computer and thinking---- yes, I really should organize those drawings.... I glanced down at my nearby bookshelf and saw this old sketchbook sticking out and Voila!

So, no, this is not the first one but it's from 1996, when I was 14 years younger than I am today and a wee bit thinner. It was the days of olde before I had my daughter, which was basically another lifetime (I see some of you moms (and dads!) nodding your heads)

Also done with rapidograph. This was not a very happy time in my life as I think you can see. I never actually noticed it before. I just thought it was a pretty cool drawing.

But looking at it now, I can see the dark cloud over my head. And that might be one of the great things about drawing and specifically about self-portraits. A way to make a visual journal of your life. The good with the bad. And I'm not going to say It's all good! because some of it is awful. But it's your life, so better pay attention.

So how about doing a self-portrait of your own self? I'd love to see it!

Of Turtles and Snails

2010-01-14T22:02:00.008-05:00

I find myself writing about slow-moving animals. I have two picture books featuring snails (and a turtle makes a cameo in each of these) Plus there's a poem My Turtle Ran Away. And also How to Serve Banana Slugs.

I don't like creepy, crawly, flying things and they're never welcome in my home (and you know who you are!) But if I'm stepping onto my first step to step up onto my porch, and there's a slug, I have to look down and say, "I know how you feel."

Have you heard the one about the guy who hears a knock on his door? He opens the door, looks down and sees a snail. So he picks the snail up and hurls him out to the street.

Two years later, he hears another knock. Opens the door and there's the snail again, saying,

"What was all that about?"

Now let's not forget turtles. They look like they've seen it all and know much more than you do, right? When I was a kid, I had a poster in my room that said, "A turtle only gets ahead by sticking out his neck." Now I never was big on sticking out my neck. But I liked looking at that drawing every day.

A couple of years ago I bought a small painting by Asheville artist Moni Hill. It's got a sweet little turtle on it and the words:

We have very little time. We must move very slowly -Zen proverb

It's been hanging on my daughter's door ever since, and, even though it has not slowed my little girl down one bit, I like looking at that painting.

So if you see me around town, moving very slowly, now you know why.

Now tell me what animals you like to draw or write poems about or see on your porch.

Self-Portraits

2010-01-12T10:02:00.002-05:00

My first drawings were of the rock stars on those great big cds they used to make (they were called albums back then)--Cat Stevens, Mick Jagger, Elvis Costello.

Later I got into self-portraits, which are still some of my favorite drawings. Whenever I find myself feeling foggy and confused, which is increasingly often, I go down to my studio (meaning, drawing table) and draw myself.

This is a new one. Drawn with a new rapidograph. I loved my rapidograph in high school and all through college but gave it up for my brushes, pencils and paints. Recently I bought one again. Feels a little technical, but okay.

I've always thought it would be way cool to have an exhibit of all my years of self-portraits--- from my teen years to my mature self. So maybe I'll start that exhibit right now. Right here. With this drawing from December 2009.

Where is Mt. Crumpit, anyway?

2010-01-11T10:26:00.003-05:00

Just north of Who-ville, as I'm sure you all knew! Welcome to the first day of my first post of my first blog. Ever! Named for my favorite line in children's literature:

Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Crumpit,
He rode with his load to the tip top to dump it!

from How The Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss, as I'm sure you all knew!

One of my favorite lines. There are so many to choose from. Like:

And the Banderilleros were mad and the Picadores were madder and the Matador was so mad he cried because he couldn't show off with his cape and sword.

From The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf-- you knew that one, right?

Speaking of literary references, I found this fascinating line from an oft-misquoted Emily Dickinson poem:

How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Blog -

I didn't even know they had blogs back then!
Okay, Emily Dickinson did not have a blog. But don't you wish she did?
So, gentle reader, here is my question to you: whose blog do you wish you could read? I mean, if you could go back in a time machine and invent blogs so long ago that even Jane Austen could have had one, if she wanted (and you know she would!)

Thanks for visiting my first blog. Ever!