Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

It was just a while ago that 7-Imp readers and I were discussing the art of non-busy illustrations. However, sometimes, as noted then, books call for them. Elisa Chavarri, today’s featured illustrator (wave to her and her tiny friend to the left here)—who was born in Peru, who is still fairly new to children’s book illustration, and who is also an animator and studied Classical Animation at the Savannah College of Art and Design—puts them to use in her newly-illustrated title (rendered via mixed media), written by Esmé Raji Codell, Fairly Fairy Tales (Aladdin, January 2011). This is a spare text with detailed illustrations. Or, if you’re Kirkus: “By beginning with Codell’s creative less-is-more setup, Chavarri’s illustrations end by stealing the show.”

I invited blogger extraordinaire Esmé (you can wave to her, too, here below), as well as Elisa, over for some cyber-coffee this morning to discuss this book of fractured fairy tales. But first, a bit more about the book…

We are talkin’ fairy tales here, so it all kicks off with a “once upon a time,” but then Esmé kicks it up a notch, while also paring it all down, with a series of one-word questions devoted to various fairy tales. A mother puts her young son to bed: “Kiss? Yes. Water? Yes. Bedtime? NOOOOO!” Here come the Three Little Pigs to the rescue. In spot illustrations, we see “Sticks? Yes. Straw? Yes. Bricks? Yes. Solar panels? NOOOOO!” This is the drill for each fairy tale. (The Three Little Pigs are followed by Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, and The Three Bears.) But each fairy-tale moment ends with a detailed double-page spread that proposes a “well, maybe” scenario, each one fairly outlandish and unexpected: Those solar panels get put to use after all, and an all-organic community garden springs up in the pigs’ new neighborhood (as you can see in the spread Elisa shares below); Red’s grandma opens a beauty salon for wolves (also below); Cinderella and her prince go disco-dancing; and more. Read the rest of this entry �

I have only one illustration for you all today, but it’s a whopper of an illustration and positively terrifying, which—-given the book’s subject matter—is a compliment:

Don’t you love that? Wait, there’s a monitor between me and you, so I can’t hear you, but if you love it as much as I, you can always comment below.

This comes from illustrator, painter, and printmaker Sarah Young, who lives in England. It is one of the many arresting illustrations from Greek Myths by Ann Turnbull (also British), published by Candlewick. Now, I had thought this was a brand-new title, but it just so happens that every link I see online, including the book’s very home on the Candlewick site itself, is saying it was released in November of 2010. The copyright info also states 2010. Color me confused. And slightly behind. Could it be that this one got lost in the stacks of books all over my home and I assumed it was slightly newer than it is? Yes, it could be. Either way, it’s a book I like. I happen to have an emerging seven-year-old who is downright obsessed with myths, particularly if they involve monsters and particularly if they’re Greek, and we’ve been enjoying this one. (Shh. Don’t tell on me, given that the suggested age range for this one is “grade 6 and up.”)

What’s particularly effective here is how Turnbull links the stories together. Here’s what she wrote in the book’s intro: Read the rest of this entry �

“Some picture books are written for children; this one gives a sense of what it’s like to be one,” Publishers Weekly wrote about author/illustrator Hyewon Yum’s 2008 debut picture book. Well, now. That’s nothin’ to sneeze at, that’s for sure, for one’s first picture book title.

What’s that? You’re wondering about the picture above, though? It’s a bit early, I know, to be featuring some spreads from a picture book scheduled to be released in August of this year. I know, I know, dear readers. I’m all over the place, seeing as how on Sunday I featured a title from 2009. But, well… What can I say? I follow 7-Imp’s own weird, whacked-out rules. (I just made the blog sound like some kind of imp-like spirit. See what happens when I don’t get enough sleep?) Anywhoozles (7-Imp, the imp-like spirit, also lets me use annoying words like “anywhoozles”), I really like the work of Korea-born-but-now-Brooklyn-dwellling author/illustrator Hyewon Yum, who created the above spread, as well as two previous titles whose artwork rather wows me. I featured Last Night, her 2008 debut title, here in August of that year. And last year, Hyewon received the Founders Award from the Society of Illustrators for There Are No Scary Wolves (in the 2010 category of “Original Art: Celebrating the Fine Art of Children’s Book Illustration”).

Her upcoming 2011 title, The Twins’ Blanket, featured above (and more below)—which addresses the emotional highs and lows (competition, envy, undeniable bond) of twin-dom—goes to show that she’s continuing her streak of creating books that, in the words (again) of Publishers Weekly, offer us insight into the perceptions of small children. Typically using linoleum block prints, her illustrations are fascinating, depicting both the joy and the darker side of those mysterious things that are the inner worlds of children. Booklist also wrote about her debut title that the absence of text gave kids “room to think,” especially considering the “depth and emotion” she conveyed through the art. You see, I LOVE THAT. I want my life’s music, art, and books—all of it, thanks very much—to give me space to breathe and think. And any children’s book that does that for the wee ones, too, is a good one, in my book. And, really, how often do we see that in picture books? Think about it. Talk amongst yourselves. And get back to me, if you’re so inclined, and we’ll discuss.

Hyewon’s here for breakfast. Her only request? A “large cup of black coffee, please.” Why, I can certainly do that. Always. Let’s get right to it, and I thank her for stopping by… Read the rest of this entry �

Well, there are two reasons I’m primarily just going to show you some illustrations today (more art is after the jump), yet not say too terribly much about the book from which they come, Fortune Cookies by Albert Bitterman and illustrated by Chris Raschka: 1) The Cybils Award winners were just announced (as I type this on Monday), so I’m going to head over to the site to see who the winners are. Thanks to the hyper-hypo world of Facebook, which I just skimmed, I’ve already seen who some of the lucky winners are, and let’s just say those bloggers who chose the winners are smart. Really smart. But then I already knew that.

2). I knew my co-author, Betsy Bird, had reviewed Fortune Cookies at the end of January, yet I didn’t read the review then. I mentally flagged it to read at a later time, knowing I was probably going to cover the book here. So, I just now up and read that review. And wow. There’s a reason you want Betsy to cover one of your books: Her reviews are remarkably detailed. Will you forgive me then if I just send you over there to read her thoughts on the book? Having just read her thoughtful analysis, I feel I have no other choice in the matter but to send you to the best. (No one quite gives these slim picture books the consideration and scrutiny they deserve quite like Betsy does.) So, dear readers, if you’re really interested in learning more about this title, I give you Betsy’s thoughts on the matter. She covers it all: Albert Bitterman’s real name and day job, the rise and fall and rise again of novelty books, what makes a good one, why Fortune Cookies is an effective one, why it’s notable how dang sturdily the book is made, and even how the book can be seen as commentary on free will. The only difference here? While she talks about her sometimes-distance from Raschka’s art, though she notes she’s always respected his work on the whole, I could confidently be described as a big ‘ol fan of his minimalist illustration style, his loose watercolors and the way he “captures the essence of a mood with the merest hint of text and the briefest of brush strokes,” as Publishers Weekly once wrote. When it comes to contemporary picture book illustration, his work is one of My Bests. If you’re in the same boat, here’s a link back to my 2009 interview with Raschka. Read the rest of this entry �

See that yellow tutu on Margo’s head? I don’t know about you all, but I really need that sunny yellow this morning. Yes, it’s quite lovely, you’re saying? Okay, here’s some more. These below are the cheery endpapers. (Click to enlarge and see even more shiny-happy yellow. I love and need these endpapers so much that I just made that JPG splash all over my desktop monitor as my background image.)

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In anticipation of Poetry Friday tomorrow, this post celebrates not only poetry but some good, new nonfiction. The poem featured above, “Food Chain,” comes from the above spread (left-side illustration) and is one of the many poems in What’s for Dinner?: Quirky, Squirmy Poems from the Animal World (Charlesbridge, February 2011), written by Katherine B. Hauth and illustrated by David Clark. As I scan reviews for this post, seeing as how I’m a review nerd, I see that Publishers Weekly calls this one a “satisfying mix of tutelage and repartee.” But my favorite of all? Kirkus writes that this is “an enriching overview of the natural world spiced with a Dorothy Parker–esque sense of the macabre that children will absolutely relish.” And, as you can see by the cover alone (below), Clark’s ink and watercolor illustrations are, indeed, macabre, over-the-top fun.

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Meet Petunia. That’s her toy skunk, but as you can see, she’s pleading with her parents—whom, incidentally, you never see in her story, à la the Charlie Brown gang’s parental units—to get her a real pet skunk. Petunia is on a mission, y’all, and as you’ll see if you pick up this title, she’s one determined child. (Publishers Weekly wrote that she “lives a life filled with exclamation points,” as, indeed, most children do.)

Last February here at 7-Imp, I featured the debut illustrated title from Paul Schmid, Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s The Wonder Book. It was in that post that he mentioned the title from which he’s sharing some art today, the first title he’s both written and illustrated himself, A Pet for Petunia (HarperCollins, February 2011). So, sure, I’ve already featured the irrepressible Petunia here at the blog, but I still wanted to invite Paul back to tell us a bit more about her and what’s next for him — not to mention I was eager to ask him about his Sendak Fellowship. See Paul and the Great One pictured left? Yup, Paul got to study with Maurice Sendak for a month, and he tells us all a bit more about that below.

The word seen and heard repeatedly by those describing/reviewing A Pet for Petunia thus far is “simple”: “Schmid’s…line drawings are simple, fluid, and convey lots of valuable information,” wrote Publishers Weekly. “Schmid’s illustration style is pure charm,” wrote David Elzey in his excelsior file review, “simple conte crayon and spot watercolor in two colors, mostly purple with dabs of yellow. The simplicity suits the story, and Petunia’s expressions are easily read.” Sendak himself has called it a “simple, beguiling story.” That’s because Paul renders the story with an economy of expression, line, and palette that is lovely to see, given the very busy picture books out there today. David said it well when he wrote:

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Welcome to my third picture-book roundtable discussion, in which the author, illustrator, editor, and art director/book designer are on deck to give me and 7-Imp readers varying perspectives on one picture book title. Today’s picture book is The Adventures of Granny Clearwater & Little Critter (Henry Holt/Christy Ottaviano Books, October 2010), which means that today I welcome author Kimberly Willis Holt (whom I once interviewed back in 2007, during the era in which images at 7-Imp were tragically small) and illustrator Laura Huliska-Beith, as well as the book’s editor, Christy Ottaviano, the Editorial Director of Henry Holt’s Christy Ottaviano Books, and the book’s designer April Ward. (Throw in some illustrations from Kyrsten Brooker, and you’ve got all of the ladies Granny Clearwater has, in one way or another, lured here to 7-Imp today. Granny’s sneaky like that. Sharp as a tack, that one.)

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It’s the first Sunday of the month and, therefore, time to welcome a student of illustration or someone otherwise brand-new to the field. Today, I welcome Fabiola Garza Villalobos. Pictured above is her depiction of Joseph with baby Jesus, rendered digitally and via graphite. Fabiola is a recent graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design, and I’m happy she’s stopped by (with special thanks to Mary Jane Begin). I’ll let Fabiola tell you more about herself:

Fabiola: Hello! My name is Fabiola Garza, and I’m currently head of the Concepts & Props team at 38 Studios, a video game company presently situated in Maynard, better known as Curt Schilling’s company. My general title is Environment Artist, but that doesn’t really detail all the wonderful things I get to do on a day-to-day basis. So, let’s begin at the beginning, before this professional life began.

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I know, I know. I often say “this post will be short and sweet,” and I then I start ramble typing. But it’s been a long week, and this truly will be brief.

The blog is being graced today with illustrations from Sean Qualls (who did one of my favorite 7-Imp interviews ever back in ’09, and that would be because he sent precisely one skerjillion images, and that’s the way I like to do ’em up, my friends — with a metric ton of art) and Bryan Collier. Sean is sharing over in Facebook land an illustration-a-day in honor of Black History Month, and I secured his permission to share Langston Hughes here:

The back cover (and one of the interior illustrations) from Laban Carrick Hill’s Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave, illustrated by Bryan Collier, is at the top of this post. You may remember that this biography of American artist Dave the potter received a 2011 Caldecott Honor, and I’ve yet to feature it here at the ‘ol blawg. If you’ve yet to see this book, what Tony Horwitz at the New York Times called a “restrained and respectful treatment of the historical facts {of his life}” and School Library Journal called “{o}utstanding in every way,” you’re in for a treat.

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