STEAM ENGINES

This is one of the double-page spreads I created for "The Cats In Krasinski Square", written by Karen Hesse, and published in 2004. It's a large piece, 24" wide, and executed in pencil, watercolor, and ink. The story was challenging to illustrate, set as it was in Warsaw, Poland, during WWII, and dealing with the hardships of Jews, both in and out of the Warsaw Ghetto.

Since the story was historical fiction, I relied heavily on photographs to construct my illustrations. When I had roughed out this composition, using xeroxes of photos and my own very rough figure sketches, I showed it to my dad, Aldren A Watson, the well-known illustrator who was my professional mentor until his death. Dad looked at my compostion for several minutes, clearly uncomfortable about SOMETHING. Finally he said, "You've got an American steam engine here, not a European steam engine." 

 As it happened, my father was not only a terrific artist, but an expert on old trains. (And just a note: I learned that American steam engines had cowcatchers at the front end; European engines had bumpers.) He sent me sketches, photos, and books of European steam engines, as well as historical information about the manufacturers of steam engines, indicating which kind of engine was likely to have been in Warsaw in 1940. Thank goodness he caught this mistake---I'm not sure if anyone else would have seen it until it was too late.

I began to revise my sketch. It was hard to find photos clear enough for me to see all the details of wheels, drive shafts, and other mechanical parts. "Just add a lot of steam" my Dad said. We artists know about "adding steam". Sometimes that's a cop-out; other times it's a practical solution. As my son always said about film and the stage (and equally applicable to illustration): "We're creating an illusion of reality, not reality itself."

On a separate transparent layer I next worked out very carefully the arrangement of the clouds and steam behind the engine.The separate layer avoids messing up any drawing on other sections of the compositions.

Next came the figures of the pursuers...

...and of the pursued.

I combined all these layers into my master sketch. I carry out this process with transparent vellum, but the process is exactly the same if one is doing it on a computer.

And voila (after 4 days of painting and inking)---the finished illustration. 

THE 3-COLOR PALETTE

I've been emphasizing that one does not need a huge palette in order to achieve a variety of results. (See my earlier posts on this topic:  http://thewendywatsonblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/my-palette.html, http://thewendywatsonblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/my-palette-continued.html)  I was reminded of an exercise that my grandfather Ernest W. Watson suggested in his book ERNEST W. WATSON'S SKETCH DIARY:  try painting with a palette of just 3 colors.  I chose yellow ochre, light red, and Winsor blue as my palette for this demonstration.

I started with this little ink drawing of a figure I drew for the book I LOVE MY BABY SISTER, by Elaine Edelman.

In this version,all 3 colors are of fairly equal importance.  Notice that although only 3 colors are used, the effect does not feel at all "limited".  On the contrary, it is very colorful.

In this version, the 3 colors are again of fairly equal importance, but the overall effect is rather different from the first example.

In this example, the blue is clearly the dominant color, and there are only bare touches of the red and yellow.  But again, the effect does not feel "limited".  You will notice that all 3 of these images do consistently "go together" in the sense of feeling as though they are from the same pictorial family.  This is one of the huge boosts the illustrator receives when using a limited palette.  A limited palette almost automatically produces art that is consistent throughout a book or project.  And once again, in this post I'm preaching my strong belief that the artist does not need a huge array of materials in order to produce beautiful work.  Instead, I suggest that the artist choose carefully a small arsenal of high-quality tools, and then learn through trial and error how to get the absolute most out of each one of them.

MY VALUE FINDER

I am by choice a very low-tech kind of artist.  Perhaps even a dinosauric artist.  One of my tools is this Value Finder, created in 1980 by Binney & Smith to use with the Liquitex acrylic range of grays. (On this scale, value 1 would be black, value 10 would be white.)  It's printed on a piece of stiff card stock, about 4 x 6.  The card itself has yellowed over the years, but that does not reduce its usefulness for me.  I lay the card over the area of art that I want to assess.  Then, looking through squinted eyes, I move the peepholes over the art until the color showing through the peephole blends in with the color on the card.  Presto---I have a value number.  Different scales of color value can look slightly different from each other.  This  doesn't matter.  The issue at hand is one of relativity, not absolutes.   I use this gadget to help me keep my artwork---the values of all my colors---consistent throughout a book.  If the darkest shadows in my key illustration have a value of 3, then I want all of the darkest shadows on every page to have the same value.  If my lightest colors in that key illustration have a value of 8, then I want the lightest areas of every page to have that same value.  If the costume of my main character is a nice bright red in its middle tones, then I want those middle tones to be of the same value throughout the book, no matter how small or large the character is on a particular page.  Consistency from page to page in picture book illustrations is critical---and this little card enables me to achieve that with ease.  

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: FLOW, PART 1

FLOW is a critical element in a picture book.  But what does FLOW mean?  I myself always think of a stream of running water, or of a piece of music, as I work out the flow in a picture book.  Water, or a music---they are always in motion. I like to have the art be in motion, or to FLOW, from spread to spread through a book. And I like that flow to echo and support, even embroider upon, the text.  How can an artist create that flow? One very simple way is to increase or decrease the art area (the amount and shape of the space that the art occupies) from spread to spread. I’ll use Maurice Sendak’s WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE as an example. I’ve deliberately put the spreads into a monochrome, because I am focusing on the art area only. 

In spread 1, the art area occupies about an eighth of the spread.  By the time we reach spread 8, the art occupies about three-quarters of the spread.  Like the story (and like a piece of music, or the source of a river) the art area has started out small, quiet; then grows bigger, louder.

In spreads 9 – 11, the art area continues to grow, though it has changed its shape and placement.  The change reflects Max’s landing after his ocean trip; the continuing increase in size lets the reader know that we haven’t yet reached the story’s climax.  The change and growth are, again, like a stream shifting its direction, or music exploring a theme.

In spreads 12 – 14, the art area has grown to its maximum size, running off all four edges of each spread.  Even text has been squeezed off the page.  We’ve reached the climax of the story---and of the visual flow of the book.  The loudest part of the music, the stream tumbling noisily over a falls!

In spreads 15 – 16, the art area begins to decrease, signaling the descent from the climax, the beginning of the end of the story.  Just so might music begin to decrease in volume, or water, swollen by a storm, subside into its bed.

And in the final spreads 17 – 19, the art area shrinks further, to the point of disappearing entirely.  The end…of story, musical piece, or stream of water trickling away into nothing. So just as the story line rises, reaches its climax, and then falls to its conclusion, so does the art area echo and repeat the same flow.  So simple, but so effective. 

In another post I’ll examine a different kind of flow, using the same book for my example.

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: TRIAL ART, PART 5

The last step for this piece of trial art---adding the color.  I used Winsor & Newton watercolors for this. After working on the color for a while, I decided I needed to add more pen & ink texture and pattern.  But how much, and where?  India ink can't be erased!

I did what I often do---I laid a piece of clear film over the art and did some quick pen work---some on the grass in the upper piece of film, some on the figures in the slower piece.

When I laid the inked piece of film over the art, I could see how the additional pen-work might look.  Did it need work on just the grass and background?

Or---laying down both pieces of film over the art---on the figures as well?

 As a result of this check, I decided to add pen & ink texture to figures, grass, and tree---to everything, in fact.  I worked more on the color as well.

 More texture, more color...

 Finally---a finished piece of trial art.  And by the time I completed the piece, I wasn't sure I liked this style for my project after all.  Better to find this out by doing a trial piece, rather than discovering it when I'm half-way through the actual finished art!

A NOVEMBER OF MINI-INTERVIEWS 2012

I'm sharing here a blog post from my colleague Laura Jacobsen.  She and three others are blog-posting interviews of 16 picture book illustrators throughout the month of November.  I am one of the illustrators  whom Laura will be interviewing.  Follow all 16 interviews---and celebrate  National Picture Book Month! 

“Everything I learned in college, can now be found for free on Wikipedia.”- bobbiblogger,  Sept., 2012

Yeah, that sums it up pretty well. Don’t get me wrong, I went to a great art school, The Columbus College of Art and Design (although not as great as it is NOW after apparently a jillion dollar endowment–I mean we had classes in an old garage for crying out loud). But I have to admit I have amassed far more knowledge since I left by talking to and copying, I mean learning, from other artists, both in real life and online. Last year, our little band of local illustrator buds, Molly Idle, Mikela Prevost and Juana Martinez-Neal and I, interviewed each other, and learned so much in the process that this year we decided to expand our class offerings. Consider this our graduate program. In honor of National Picture Book Month classes begin in November, conveniently located on a blog near you, and, best of all, this education is FREE!

Our gracious and distinguished faculty include:

Kevan Atteberry

Lynne Avril

Alexandra Ball

Alexandra Boiger

David Christiana

Kent Culotta

Adam Gustavson

Jeremy Holmes

Brian Karas

Kelly Light

John Parra

Greg Pizzoli

Amanda Shepherd

Mary Sullivan

Constanze Von Kitzing

Wendy Watson

So set your alarm for November and don’t be late! (Three “lates” will count as an absence and go on your permanent record!)

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: TRIAL ART, PART 4

Having finished my detailed sketch, I transfered it to my working surface, Lanaqarelle 90 lb hot press watercolor paper, using a light box.  In pencil, I sketched out the leafy clumps of the tree structure in a little more detail.  I then began the line work, using one of my favorite tools and media---India ink and a crow-quill pen.

I finished most of the outlines, and began working out the leafy clumps of the tree.

Then back to the figures, adding pattern and texture.

More pattern and texture added to grass, leaves, and figures.  I had not yet erased any pencil lines.  (I never erase until I have let the ink dry overnight, to avoid any possible smudging.)  I was now ready to begin adding color.

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: TRIAL ART, PART 3

On my next working day, I was still satisfied with my rough basic composition.  I began my detailed sketch.  I transferred the basic composition onto tracing paper, then started developing my place-holders into actual characters.

More characters took shape...

...and more.

I next worked out the umbrellas, which I wanted to design carefully in relation to the figures.

I developed the tree on a separate layer of tracing paper, so as to facilitate later placement, and eliminate excessive erasing and re-drawing of the figures.  Many artists work with layers in this manner on the computer, rather than on paper, as I do.  The concept, activity, and purpose is the same, no matter what the medium.

Finally---the layers are combined, and the detailed sketch is ready for execution!

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: TRIAL ART, PART 2

I had, as I thought, finished my basic composition, and was expecting to begin a more detailed sketch.  But when I went back to my desk the next morning, and looked at the sketch that had seemed so perfect the day before, I realized immediately that it needed changes.  This was supposed to be a bustling market, big enough so that characters could lose each other in its confusion.  No one could possibly get lost in this tiny market!  And the tree was too small to balance the figures and umbrellas.  

I scanned the sketch into my computer, reversed the image so as to position the youngsters on the left, and printed out several copies.  Then I cut up the copies, giving me duplicate sections of various elements of the original sketch---figures, umbrellas, and tree branches.  Using removable Scotch tape, I arranged the pieces to create the larger scene that I wanted.  I call this the "hack and hew" stage.  (I could of course do this kind of work equally well on the computer---and many artists do.  I myself love the tactile experience of using paper, pencil, scissors, and tape, so I do it the old-fashioned way.)  And this is an example of why it's better that I use place-holders at this stage, rather than drawing actual figures.  It's easy for me to slice a place holder in half, or lop off the base if the figure is too tall, or even consign one to the wastebasket---whereas if I had spent time and emotion creating an actual figure, I would be much more reluctant to perform the drastic surgery needed. 

And I decided that, after all, I preferred having the youngsters on the right, and the mothers on the left, as they were in the original sketch.  So I reversed the composition once again.  I felt pretty confident that this time, I had the basic composition that I wanted.  But I again stopped at this point, planning to look at it the next day so as to confirm my judgement after a night away from it.  When working on a book, I always wait at least a day before continuing on to the next step.  I have learned that the fresh look instantly highlights for me any weaknesses in the work.

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: TRIAL ART, PART 1

When designing and illustrating a picture book, I always make at least one piece of trial art early on in the preliminary planning for the book.  This allows me to experiment with media and style while my ideas for the book are still fluid, and I'll be willing to change my mind if I need to. Recently I made an experimental illustration for a project on which I'm currently working.  I knew what I wanted the scene to show:   A group of mothers, and a group of youngsters, who have lost each other at an old-fashioned country market.  As soon as the general idea of the composition came to me, I scribbled it down in my notebook so I wouldn't forget it.

My next step was to start roughing out the composition, using pencil on vellum tracing paper.  I always begin a composition with these "place-holder" figures.   The place-holders keep me focused on the basic composition, and prevent me from getting caught up in details that are unimportant at this stage.

After roughing out the figures, I started on some of the setting and background.  

I didn't like the shape of the umbrellas, so I changed them.  Then I worked out a general shape for the tree. At this point I thought that my basic composition was all set.  I planned to begin a more detailed sketch on my next working day.   

PICTURE BOOK DESIGN: PAGE COMPOSITION

You've surely seen them---those diagrams of art covered with red zooming arrows, circles, and triangles.  The example above is from Uri Shulevitz's fabulous book, "Writing With Pictures."  But I have a personal and embarrassing confession to make.   When I look at one of these diagrams---even Uri's---my brain freezes.  For me, those diagrams and compositional theories are like an instruction manual written in an indecipherable language.  

But I do have a handful of simple guidelines concerning page composition that serve me well---and that you'll find are pretty much universal to any successful picture book.

1.  Set margins for the page.  I usually set my page margins at around 3/4" to 1" for the top and front edges; around 1 1/8" for the gutter and the bottom edges.  This allows enough room for thumbs and fingers to hold the page without covering up anything of importance.  And these margins dimensions I give (and that show in the photo above) will appear in the finished book to be roughly the same.  The curve of the pages turning into the gutter means that the wider margin actually looks the same as the top and front margin, optically.   And the bottom margin, just because it is at the bottom, appears to be the same as the front and top---again, an optical illusion.

2.  Keep anything of importance within the margins; and if it's of great importance (e.g. the main character), keep it well within the margins.    This doesn't mean there must be frames or borders for the art.  Even if the art is going to bleed off all four edges (i.e. run off the edge of all four pages), a margin will help keep important elements where they will have the most impact.  Think of a theater stage:  if a character or element is too close to the wing, it gets conflated, visually, with the edge of the stage.  It loses the audience's focus.  

3.  The center of the page, as indicated above in the photo, is the place of stasis on the page.  Keep important elements off-center.  Even if the overall composition is intended to be more static, place the main character, for example, off-center.  (Clearly, I believe that movement is critical to a successful composition.)

4.  General movement on the page must always be from left to right.  We read (in English) from left to right, and turn book pages from left to right.  In a book, we expect the "next thing" to be to the right, not to the left.  Since children are learning how books work when they use picture books (even if they can't actually read yet), it is doubly important to be consistent in this.    

5.  When composing a double-page spread, don't let anything of importance (such as a character) run across the gutter.  

There are of course many other considerations at play when I am composing pages.  These five are my basics.  

My usual caveat:  There will be successful exceptions to everything I've said here.  And now, having stuck my neck out to a dangerous extent, I will quickly withdraw it before any rotten tomatoes find their mark!

STAYING IN THE MOOD

If the artist is going to infuse his art with the mood of a manuscript, he needs keys that will allow him to enter into that mood, regularly and predictably, throughout the time he is working on the illustrations.

I depend on multiple vehicles to revisit a manuscript's mood.  When I returned from an on-site research trip to northern Maine for the book Spuds, by Karen Hesse, one of the things I brought home with me was a huge bag of freshly-dug Maine potatoes.  I dined on those potatoes regularly---mashed, boiled, baked---throughout the time I was creating the art for the book.  Some of them, raw and still speckled with dirt, I kept in a bowl next to my drawing board.  Each time I looked at, smelled, or cooked those earthy potatoes, I was once again strolling over the high, wide, wind-swept expanse of the book's landscape.

I couldn't visit an actual landscape when I was illustrating The Cats In Krasinski Square, by Karen Hesse---the Warsaw of the book had been destroyed during WWII.  But I watched many times the film "The Pianist", which was set in the same place and era as the book.  The movie enabled me to walk the streets and experience the atmosphere of the times, and above all to feel physically the mood of Cats.  I also listened endlessly to my CD of piano music---Chopin, Schumann, Schubert.  I'm not sure, even now, how and why this worked; but as soon as I pressed the "on" button at the beginning of each workday, that music transported me instantly to the world of the book's brave heroine.

As for staying in the mood for my own title, Little Brown Bear---in my absorption, I  (and my two young children) ate with the bears' wooden bowls and spoons; dried dishes with their red-and-white towels; poured water out of their pitcher; stored belongings on their breakfront.  I literally lived the bears' lives.  I was probably never OUT of the mood the entire time I was creating the art for that book. 

A musical recording, a fragrant leaf, a swatch of coarse fabric, a crunchy cookie, a piece of furniture, a dance step---each artist chooses her own keys, whatever will open the door for her to the mood of the manuscript she is illustrating.  So that as she creates, she is always absorbing mood through her skin, and releasing mood through her fingers onto the paper.  She is imbuing her art with emotion---with life.