Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

I suppose it’s not often I’ve featured papercut artists here at 7-Imp, but I’m happy to have one such illustrator, Nikki McClure, visiting 7-Imp this morning. Nikki—a self-taught artist, who began her work in 1996—cuts illustrations away from a single piece of black construction paper with an X-Acto knife in a process that, to say the very least, is time-consuming and intricate.

Nikki produces her own merchandise (posters, books, note cards, tee shirts, and yearly calendars), designs covers for records and books, and has contributed illustrations to The Progressive and Punk Planet.

But in the realm of children’s literature, Nikki has also brought us her delicate, beautiful papercut designs. In 2009, she illustrated Cynthia Rylant’s All in a Day, followed by her own two titles, 2010’s Mama, Is It Summer Yet? and this year’s To Market, To Market, just released this month (and all three published by Abrams). About Nikki’s illustrations for All in a Day, School Library Journal wrote, “Astonishingly detailed, the artwork evokes the feel of classic 1940s and ’50s picture books…. They successfully capture the magical childhood sense that a day can go on forever.” Kirkus added, “McClure’s bold cut-paper illustrations make such nebulous concepts as hope and renewal accessible to young readers. Her touching black-and-white tableaux, satisfying and solid with thick lines and sharp reliefs, offer simple scenes of rejuvenation.” With bold lines and textures and complex, meticulous papercuts, McClure’s artwork delights. Read the rest of this entry �

When you’re super swamped and have your own writing deadlines and a whole host of other stuff to do, yet you see a picture book like Jim Averbeck’s Except If, released by Atheneum in January of this year, and you really super bad want to feature the book, what do you do? Well, you could email the author/illustrator and tell him exactly how super swamped you are but that you’d love for him to send an in-his-own-words type of feature about the book, along with some art, if he’s so inclined to oblige. So, that’s what I did in this instance. And when you give someone like Mr. Averbeck the freedom to just run with it? Well, you’re in for some fun.

You see, Jim has this very close friend. Her name is Jessica, and she’ll introduce herself in just a moment. Since I was so swamped when this book was first released (yes, this was over three months ago—and I’ve also been sitting on this post about a month now—so I’m happy to finally be bringing it to readers), Jim invited Jessica over to interview him in my stead. I was happy to turn the breakfast table over to her. As you can see below, she has a very festive scarf, for one, which I may beg to borrow. Also her full name is just a KICK to say.

If you haven’t seen Except If yet, know that it’s been described as no less than a “short, sweet, philosophical speculation” (Publishers Weekly), an “existential” and “deceptively simple yet delightful tale” (Kirkus), and “contrarian” fun (Booklist). The book starts with an egg, which is not what you think. It’s not a baby bird, you see, “but it will become one except if it becomes a baby snake.” Readers’ expectations continue to be overturned with successive page turns—and the repeated use of “except if”—in this puzzler of a book, less of a story than a “convergence of fanciful possibilities,” as School Library Journal wrote. Just when readers think the story is going one way, Averbeck provides a narrative detour. Adds the PW review, “{e}ven very young readers will find they’ve succeeded in following a rather convoluted piece of reasoning, clause by clause and picture by picture; it’s a book in which the action unfolds in the mind as much as it does on the page.” I don’t want to give it all away either and spoil your experience reading it, if you haven’t already, but let’s just say it ends as it started — with a pale blue egg and maybe, just maybe, a baby bird.

Okay. Back to work. Jessica’s here to take over—she’s already brewed the coffee—and I thank her. And Jim. For running with it. No except-ifs about that one. Read the rest of this entry �

If you’ve ever seen a picture book illustrated by author/illustrator Zachary Pullen, you know that his large, full-bleed illustrations do not apologize for taking every inch of space. His richly-colored oil paintings can capture a wide range of emotions and draw in readers. Most of his characters, as you can see below, are large-headed, bold, not afraid to be who they are. Pullen’s exaggerated, somewhat askew perspective adds to this, drawing readers’ attention to the faces of his expressive, larger-than-life characters. “Affectionate caricatures” is how Publishers Weekly described Zak’s style for his illustrations in Richard Michelson’s latest picture book title, Lipman Pike: America’s First Home Run King (Sleeping Bear Press, February 2011). The review also notes many of the exciting “mid-action moments” Pullen chose to depict in many of the spreads. Read the rest of this entry �

So, here’s the deal on this early Monday morning at Camp 7-Imp, dear readers. I can say with a moderate amount of confidence that it almost doesn’t matter what I post here at 7-Imp for the rest of 2011, that this will quite likely be my favorite post. No, really. The Great One himself, Sendak, could stop by, and I might actually be all, well, there was that great Jonathan post with Philip C. Stead. (Allright, since it’s Sendak—hypothetically here—the posts may tie for Best 2011 Visits, but you get the idea.)

And here’s why: First of all, I love this new picture book from Stead. More on that in a minute. But also, I love that Phil took the time to compose this post, to share images of not only his illustrations, but his process, the steps it takes to get from point A to point B. Perhaps it’s expressly because I’m not an illustrator that I find that so fascinating, but I do. His wife, Erin—also an illustrator and 2011 Caldecott medalist for A Sick Day for Amos McGee, which Phil penned—did the same back in ’09 when I first saw her work (and knew it screamed SPECIALNESS). She actually visited twice to talk about Amos McGee, but it was this July ’09 post, in which she shared her printmaking process for the book (before it was even out), that I so enjoyed. I appreciate that both of them slow down (I emphasize this, seeing as how we live in a 140-character, hyper-hypo, shortened-attention-span world anymore) and take the time to share in such a detailed manner how they create their magic. (They humbly do not call it “magic,” to be clear, but I can. And do.)

Really, I give long interviews to some illustrators who don’t get as detailed as Phil does below, after I simply said, tell me about making this book. (And why exactly have I not had a breakfast interview with him or Erin? I’ll have to fix that one day.) And Phil gets detailed in the way I like — succinctly-worded and letting the art do most of the talking. As it should be. Read the rest of this entry �

Won’t you join me in welcoming to 7-Imp this morning scratchboard illustrator Sonia Lynn Sadler? Sonia is the recipient of the 2011 Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe New Talent (Illustrator) Award for her illustrations in Jen Cullerton Johnson’s Seeds of Change, featured here at 7-Imp last August. Kirkus, in describing this book as “{v}ibrant and accomplished,” praised Sadler’s ability to so joyfully celebrate the community spirit that the book’s subject—2004 Nobel Peace Prize recipient Wangari Maathai, a Kenyan environmental and political activist—brought to those with whom she worked.

Sonia is visiting for breakfast this morning—“a home-made veggie omelet with gouda and a cup of hot tea with lemon” is her meal-of-choice—-to tell me what she’s working on now and to share some art from Seeds of Change, as well as her previous titles. I’m pleased to have her here, and I hope you enjoy all the bright art she’s sharing today. She opts for tea, not coffee, but I dare say I don’t need coffee to wake me up, what with her beautiful images here this morning. Let’s get right to it (mostly ’cause I really want to talk to her, but also ’cause SHE IS BRINGING GOUDA), and I thank her for stopping by. Read the rest of this entry �

Here is illustrator Katherine Tillotson, getting ready to make some art. Her most recent illustrated title, written by poet, novelist, and teacher George Ella Lyon, involved paste paper, and so to the stove Katherine headed. I failed to ask Katherine (I blame not-enough-coffee that day) what it was like to read Lyon’s text for the first time and how exciting it must have been to be the illustrator assigned to it. I like Lyon’s work; she had me at this title (for grown-ups) from 1997, and she’s penned many picture books, including last year’s Schneider Family Book Award winner, The Pirate of Kindergarten, illustrated by Lynne Avril.

Described by Publishers Weekly as a “lyrical and bighearted outpouring,” this new title—All the Water in the World, released in March from Atheneum—takes a look at where water comes from and how vital it is, taking a pit stop in “far away / …a different day,” a place with dry grasses, dirt, and dust, a place waiting for “an open gate / in a wall of clouds / for rain sweet and loud / to fill the well / and start the stream.” In fact, it’s the vigorous spread opening this post that follows those two parched, brown spreads. If that doesn’t wake you up impossibly before breakfast, I don’t know what will.

With warmth and a bit of a drawl (a “honey” here and a “honey” there, directly addressed at the reader, ’cause, hey, Lyon is from Kentucky), readers not only learn about the water cycle, but are also reminded not to waste it: “Keep it clear, keep it clean…” Booklist writes in their starred review, “Lots of picture books introduce young children to the water cycle, but few have such an infectious beat and eye-catching illustrations as this title, which begs to be read aloud,” adding that Tillotson’s “beautifully composed, atmospheric digital illustrations” have a kinetic energy about them.

Booklist also noted that Tillotson’s spreads in this book have the “richly patterned and textured look of paint-and-paper collage.” That would be because, as Katherine shows me below, she started out with collage. Here she is for a brief visit to share a bit more about how she rendered these illustrations. I thank her for stopping by. Read the rest of this entry �

At this profile of author/illustrator Claire A. Nivola (in celebration of this 2008 Candlewick title), she states, “Writing for children is a serious business.” Claire would know. Her first illustrated title was back in 1970, though she did take a break from it all for many years. “Being a mother absorbed my heart and intellect,” she writes at that link. (See also her response to the final two questions in my interview below, what I find to be a profoundly reflective response that made me nod my head an awful lot and just so happens to capture something I think about a great deal myself.) Nevertheless, Claire has been working in the field for a long time and has seen many trends in publishing books for children come and go.

I’m so pleased to have Ms. Nivola over for coffee this morning and share her rich and intricate folk-art-style illustrations with readers. She’s here to discuss her upcoming Spring picture book, all about her father’s hometown on the island of Sardinia, and I’ve got a sneak-peek into some of the illustrations from that beautiful title. And if you missed last year’s Emma’s Poem: The Voice of the Statue of Liberty, written by Linda Glaser (2010) and which was awarded the 2011 Sydney Taylor Honor Award in the Younger Readers category, you’re in for a treat this morning with some spreads here from that, as well. Claire’s very stylized, detailed illustrations are captivating, and so many of the books she’s both written and illustrated or illustrated have been nonfiction titles, thus making this a fitting post for the kidlitosphere’s Monday celebrations of nonfiction.

Let’s get right to it, and I really appreciate Claire taking the time to visit. Read the rest of this entry �

It’s been a bit since I’ve done a post on an illustrated novel, but to be doing the first one in a while on Julie Sternberg’s Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie (Amulet, March 2011), illustrated by Matthew Cordell, is good. And that’s because I asked them if they wanted to stop by and talk about the book, and hoo boy, they ran with it. Julie addressed specifically what it was like to see Matt’s illustrations for the book, and Matt gives us a detailed description of the stages in the life of his illustrations for this title.

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Quiet picture books. Contemplative. Books that capture a feeling, a moment in time, not picture books In Which Many Things Happen All At Once. They’re hard to do well. It’s challenging, I’m sure, to do gentle. But Tricia Tusa—who visited me for breakfast in 2008 and is back again this morning with some art work and sketches—not only does them well, she gives us a veritable case study in doing it well with her latest title, which she both wrote and illustrated, Follow Me, to be released next month by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Now, as a child I loved to swing. In fact, I still do. (Nearly-forty, schmearly-forty.) Clearly, Ms. Tusa loves to swing, too. Pictured left, she is launching her own adventure. On the cover of this beautiful picture book, pictured below, we see a young girl mounting a swing, hanging from a tree. On the dedication page, pictured at the bottom of this post, we get a hint as to her eventual release from the swing, as we see it flipped up into the air with her no longer on it. Ooh: Intriguing! Then, the story begins: “I wander through pink and get lost in blue.” She’s swinging, yes, but hang on. Stick with the book. Because it’s about much more than merely swinging.

The girl takes actual flight and gets lost. I’d love to tell you all of Tusa’s lyrical, evocative text here, as the young girl loses herself in the air, but you’ll have to go find a copy for yourself, by hook or by crook, next month, since: 1) I don’t want to give away the entire experience of the book and 2) doing so would also kinda sorta make me a copyright jerk. Suffice it to say she drifts through colors that she loves, she follows the breeze, allowing herself to get “caught in its folds,” and she reaches up and she reaches out and she reaches across. Lost in, not only the colors, but her own music, her own particular euphony (in more ways than one). Don’t expect any crazy plot points here: She simply takes a flight of fancy, the type of imaginative romp a child dreams of when swinging. Er, okay. Grown-ups, too. Come on. As Tricia shows us above, you’re never too old to swing, dear readers.

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Dear readers, my Kirkus column for this week is up over at their site this morning. This time, I briefly cover Picture Books In Which the Parent Expresses Undying Love and Adoration to the Child, what I call, for lack of a better phrase, the love-you-forever-type books. (See how I tried to make it sound like a whole genre of picture books by Doing This? I’m a tremendous goober.) Specifically, I address the new Candlewick title from Ann Stott and illustrated by Matt Phelan. Go have a look, if you’re so inclined. I’d love any and all interested folks to weigh in on your favorite love-you-forever-type picture books for children. Which ones make you feel slightly (or wholly) nauseous? Which ones do you think get it right?

And, if you missed last week’s column, it’s here. That’s my short Q&A with Marilyn Singer . . .

. . . in which she discusses her creative inspirations, her upcoming companion piece to Mirror Mirror, and her latest picture book, illustrated by Alexandra Boiger. Here are some spreads below, and you can head over to the column to see the cover and read more… Read the rest of this entry �