The Rhinoceros Boy's Lament

Must be the time of the year for demos.

2011-12-06T09:58:00.001-08:00

Just a few...

The oil paintings were attempted during the community college Art Appreciation classes I teach in Paterson, NJ, while the black and white acrylic number was for my sophomore level Pictorial Foundation section at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia.

Each demo was completed in just about an hour; the oils are of students in each respective class, and the black and white piece completed from a scrap of photo reference, originally taken for another project.

All the demos in this batch were done without any preliminary pencil drawings, just attacked with a brush from the start. The oils were completed using a limited palette of titanium white, cadmium yellow light, yellow ochre, cadmium red light, permanent alizarin crimson, ultramarine blue and cerulean blue, with some sap green thrown in for mixing up blacks and some burnt umber to tone the support. They're painted on canvas, linen, and prepared paper, respectively. The acrylic piece was completed on an acrylic primed sheet of Fabriano Soft Press 140 lb watercolor paper.

I should probably put a step by step at some point, but for now finishing an image with a dozen or so students huddled around might have been miraculous enough...

In other related news, this Friday, the 9th of December, I'm looking forward to conducting an after school oil painting workshop at Millburn High School here in NJ, working from a model and broken up into a one hour demo and two hours of supervised painting on the part of the students.

I'll explain in a year.

2011-10-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

But for now, this is all I have to say on the subject.

Oil on paper, 18" x 30." 2011.

September 24th is Fish Amnesty Day! Get a move on it!

2011-09-23T13:23:00.000-07:00

No longer, Becky told herself,
would Mr. Squiggy be forced to circle
his tiny bowl of tepid tap water,
goggled by visitors and fed those small
factory made protein pellets.
No, for today he had been made free,
free to make his own choices,
liberated from the stifling care
of his old home,
to chart his own course
and seek his own fortune.

In the New Stuff department...

2011-09-06T09:15:00.000-07:00

This Fall, I'll have two new titles out, Jingle Bells: How The Holiday Classic Classic Came To Be, by John Harris and published by Peachtree, and Better Than You, a new collaboration with Trudy Ludwig, author of Just Kidding. Originally slated for release by recently folded Tricycle Press, it will be published by Knopf, an imprint of Random House.

From Jingle Bells, By John Harris. Peachtree Publishers, 2011. Oil on Paper.

From Better Than You, By Trudy Ludwig. Random House, 2011. Oil on Paper.

From Better Than You, By Trudy Ludwig. Random House, 2011. Gouache on Paper.

New things are also afoot, and while I can't divulge much, I will leave you with this tidbit... and while I still cannot avail further details or specifics, I can relate at the very least that the protagonist is not, in fact, the stuffed flying badger.

Also coming down the proverbial pike is the corresponding title to this recently completed painting for Lee and Low...

...a 22" x 30" oil on paper for a book that is not about 19th century competitive bocce ball.

Who is this guy?

2011-07-08T10:13:00.000-07:00

Well, for now his identity is classified, but he's definitely not the world's first major league deaf baseball player.

And while I can't divulge his identity at this point, I'll be posting further updates on his travails as his Fall 2012 world debut approaches. No action figures are in the works right now, but you can see why I might want one.

IN OTHER NEWS, I was recently profiled and interviewed by the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators NJ chapter regional adviser and all around go-getter Kathy Temean, and will be participating in the NJ SCBWI November 5th-6th Craft Day at the Princeton Hyatt Regency, with an oil paintin' workshop on Saturday, and sticking around to participate in their Illustrators' Day Mentoring Workshop on Sunday.

The whole kit and caboodle and be found here:
http://kathytemean.wordpress.com/2011/07/02/illustrator-saturday-adam-gustavson/

Cobbled together.

2011-06-10T07:28:00.000-07:00

15" x 22," oil on paper.

I still can't tell you much about this project, except that it comes out next year, and the main character is not a croquet prodigy who interns in his youth as an apothecary.

I'll tell you what it's for in a year.

2011-05-23T13:08:00.000-07:00

oil on paper, 15.5" x 22"

But to be fair, here are a few hints: it's not about badminton, and it doesn't take place in the future.

A little ol' workshop.

2011-05-17T16:53:00.000-07:00

oil on canvas, 14"x18"

This past Friday, I was invited into Millburn High School, in Millburn, NJ, to conduct an oil painting demo and workshop, for what I can only describe as the most enthusiastic and attentive group of students I've ever been in front of. The model originally booked for the afternoon had to cancel, and this young lady volunteered to hold her pose for the four hours I was there.

Not counting the "let's let the model stretch out her back muscles so she neither faints nor atrophies" breaks, she sat as still as a statue, and every time she returned to her pose, even the little dot of light hitting the far corner of her mouth was in place. She really did a remarkable job.

Special thanks to Kathleen Harte-Gilsenan for putting the whole thing together, and particularly for amassing around her such an informed and passionate group of students.

photo: Kathleen Harte-Gilsenan

It's up!

2011-04-09T14:24:00.000-07:00

Original paintings from my book The Yankee at the Seder by Elka Weber, published by Tricycle Press, are now on display at the Danforth Museum in Framingham, MA, mentioned this week in the Boston Globe's Art Critic's Picks. I'll be at the museum on Thursday the 21st, signing copies of the book and giving two talks to students.

Special thanks, of course, to everyone at the museum who made this exhibition possible, as well as funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention Elka for writing such a fascinating book, Joann Taylor, our editor, and publishing director Nicole Geiger, during whose tenure Tricycle Press put out such a consistent list of high-quality, dependably relevant children's books on all variety of both familiar and unexpected topics.

More information is to be found at the museum web site. Exciting doings, indeed!

I could tell you what's in the bag, but you should probably just buy the book.

2011-04-07T11:56:00.000-07:00

Jenni Holm's new novel "The Trouble with May Amelia" is officially out making it's way in the world, and I was lucky enough to ride its coattails via my contribution of pen-and-ink chapter headers. Published by Simon and Schuster's Atheneum imprint, it's a wonderful book.

It also has the distinction of being one of the few children's books ever written and illustrated exclusively by descendants of Finnish-Americans, so you know it's full of risiipurru, sisu, and authentic references to fish head soup. Or, in the words of Publisher's Weekly:

Twelve-year-old May Amelia Jackson lives on a farm in Washington State in 1900 with her parents, Finnish immigrants, and a passel of brothers. Life is hard, but Holm works humor into even the grimmest situations, and Gustavson's chapter-opening spot art adds a cozy, atmospheric touch. A ransacking bull (named Friendly) knocks down the outhouse (with May Amelia inside); suitors romancing Miss McEwing are sent packing in various, inventive ways lest the school lose its beloved teacher. Judicious use of Finnish phrases adds flavor, and details ground the story in an era when boys were still routinely "shanghaied" (involuntarily pressed into service on ships bound for Asia). "Best Brother" Wilbert tells her she's as irritating as a grain of sand in an oyster, and it's mighty fun to watch May Amelia morph into a pearl. Ages 8 -12.

Painting Demo

2011-04-04T09:04:00.000-07:00

It's an unofficial tradition at the University of the Arts in Philly to give sophomore illustration majors an "Old Masters" assignment, asking students to reinterpret a great work of art from antiquity, and to render it as close to the size of the original as possible.

Some highlights from my class this semester involved recasting Caravaggio's version of the "Judith beheading Holofernes" as a mural sized involuntary beard shaving, and Goya's "the Third of May, 1808" as a wet t-shirt contest. For my demonstration, I completely cheated, as is my prerogative as an instructor, and chose a small piece by Vermeer involving only one figure, "The Milkmaid." In my defense, though, it's a Vermeer, and no cheap impersonation or homage is ever as good as a Vermeer. Aside from the comparison it begs to its untouchable Dutch predecessor, I also think I lost a little of my young lady's quirkiness, present in the sketch, as I rushed through the oil painting. Character can be such a delicate issue; a few dabs of the right color wrong places, and the species and gender remain, but, nope, not the character.

But anyway, here's she is. The whole thing was handled in what I like to think of as the Julia Child method, where one starts a preliminary step, proceeds halfway through, then pulls out a earlier version to complete. In this case, there was a subdued "local color" underpainting in place, and the demo proceeding in two steps, the first of which was to lay down a thin glaze of sap green and burnt sienna over the whole thing, unifying the temperature throughout. The second step that proceeded involved about an hour of scumbling and building up lit surfaces in the composition, exploring chromatic changes that occur with the varying of paint's opacity when applied in successive layers.

Sounds pretty highfalutin, if you ask me.

A Glowing New Review

2011-03-24T10:53:00.000-07:00

Pamela Kramer, over at Examiner.com, wrote a very nice review and follow up feature on my recent book with author Deborah Blumenthal, The Blue House Dog.

The Blue House Dog by Deborah Blumenthal and illustrated by Adam Gustavson

The Blue House Dog, written by Deborah Blumenthal and illustrated by Adam Gustavson, is a picture book that will be appreciated by children aged five and older. Adults will enjoy the beautifully created illustrations and the carefully crafted prose that accompanies each picture.

The free verse is wisely and elegantly constructed to tell the story with a combination of facts, metaphor and feelings. Just as carefully created are the illustrations. They don't just illustrate the story; they combine seamlessly with the text to create a touching, lovely package.

Bones, the stray dog, lived with an old man in a “house painted ocean blue.” He was there when the man died, and then he escaped and has been living on the streets since. “On a gray day in winter, they start to tear down the blue house, with Bone’s old life inside. Now he’ll have even less than he had before.”

The boy in the story has a loss of his own to deal with. His own beloved dog died and he misses him. “When you lose someone who’s as close as your own skin, the only place you can find him again is hidden inside your memories.”

The boy and the dog, both lonely, both sad, slowly find each other and, in the end, make each other whole again. “There are no stray dogs around here now. Blue likes it that way, and so do I.”

This touching story was inspired by the true story of a stray dog in Astoria, Queens (New York). The dog wandered the neighborhood, named by different people and fed by families, until finally a rescuer captured the dog, treated it for worms, and found it a permanent safe home.

The illustrator shared with me some thoughts about the book. "The Blue House Dog story was so quiet, and Deborah’s choice of language did such a great job of establishing a mood, it seemed even more befitting to zoom out here and there and make an image about the time of day, or to grab images from her text and make them metaphors for some greater theme (the daffodils that bloom, wilt, and return throughout the book, for instance)."

He also said, "In the Blue House Dog paintings, I wanted the neighborhood, the elm trees, and the dappled little bits of suburban sunlight to be characters too, and being allowed to take that approach in the pictures can give the the story freedom to sort of float over everything."

A wonderful gift for anyone aged five to adult--dog lovers of all ages will enjoy this story of love and friendship and overcoming loss. No bookshelf should be without it.

-Pamela Kramer

The inside track on illustrator Adam Gustavson and The Blue House Dog

One of the best parts about reviewing books is being able to ask the authors and illustrators questions about their work. Almost without exception, the authors and illustrators are very gracious and happy to explain the creative processes that go into the finished product.

An especially beautifully written and illustrated picture book that was recently reviewed was The Blue House Dog. Adam Gustavson, the illustrator, was happy to share his thoughts and actions in creating the beautiful oils that are such an important part of the book.

One learns that even childhood experiences can shape illustrations. Adam says, "When I was growing up, my cousin had a big German Shepherd mix. I always liked her markings, particularly around the eyes. I find that when trying to draw a dog, those same German Shepherd-type markings can be the source of so much expressive potential."

Adam wanted to make sure he remembered the Shepherd markings and shape so he did research. "When I received the manuscript for the Blue House Dog project, I tracked down a friend with another German Shepherd mix and just followed her around with a camera for an hour or so. Granted, there was no way she was going to do what I would have needed her to do for the book, but I wanted to make sure I at least had accurate reference for the dog’s proportions."

It wasn't enough just to get the dog to look right. Adam wanted to try to think like the dog in the story. "Beyond that, there was a lot of thinking, though I also spent a bit of time crouching around neighborhoods, trying to see how the world comes together from a dog’s vantage point. (I’m sure this looked splendid to all the neighbors.) There was a lot of erasing, too, just until I’d fiddled enough with the dog’s body language to get things to feel right, particularly where he’s being skittish or startled."

Through Adam's explanations, one can sense the joy he experiences when creating the pictures that illustrate a story. "Arranging the pictures around the text comes pretty early in the process, and I always particularly enjoy that part of picture book illustration. There’s a puzzle to it; somewhere, there’s a vantage point that leaves just the right amount of open space, and sometimes even the off-kilter shape of a paragraph can serve as inspiration. With regard to the subject of each picture—what it shows or doesn’t show—I do sort of feel it’s the job of the illustrations to fill out the story. The pictures get to provide some sort of cinematic backdrop, and to pace out the story by focusing somewhere between the sentences. The Blue House Dog story was so quiet, and Deborah’s choice of language did such a great job of establishing a mood, it seemed even more befitting to zoom out here and there and make an image about the time of day, or to grab images from her text and make them metaphors for some greater theme (the daffodils that bloom, wilt, and return throughout the book, for instance)."

Most of all, after talking with Adam, it's quite apparent that illustrating a story is not just creating a group of pictures. Adam thinks about the author's message and how to send that message pictorally as well as in the text. He explained, "It also touched on events that children witness at arm’s length (like the death of the old man). I remember times like that in my childhood; when you’re not close enough to witness something profound first hand, your surroundings can become laden with personal meanings. I remember looking at my neighbor’s house once, after I learned she’d died, and it really looked different. Not in a way that could really be described in words, at least not by me, but that’s something that the subtlety of a picture can be about. There’s a reason Edward Hopper cityscapes have a very particular loneliness to them, and it’s not because anyone’s mugging for the camera, so to speak. It’s something that’s just imbedded in all the formal subtleties of the painting, its color, its compositions, the brushwork even. In the Blue House Dog paintings, I wanted the neighborhood, the elm trees, and the dappled little bits of suburban sunlight to be characters too, and being allowed to take that approach in the pictures can give the the story freedom to sort of float over everything."

The Blue House Dog is one of the finest picture books to be released in recent years. It s poetry, metaphor and beauty touch a chord in all who read it--even those who are not animal lovers. Adults as well as younger readers will appreciate the brilliant language and lovely imagery. Thanks, Adam, for shedding some light on your contribution to this fabulous book.

-Pamela Kramer

It's Robinson Crusoe Day!

2011-02-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

Yes, indeed. A fine, fine day to send out message in a bottle tweets from your remote island home.

Incidentally, I've never typed in phone text abbreviations before, and had to visit the Twitter feeds of both Kanye West and Paris Hilton to research this sort of thing.

Fiddling around with pastels.

2010-12-13T05:23:00.001-08:00

Here are three pieces I've been working on for a children's magazine job; I've been trying to find some way of working that doesn't change the process or overall quality of a piece, but makes the process a little more portable, a little more direct. The sketches are pencil and white gouache on gray Canson paper, which how I usually roll, whereas the finals are pastel, conte and charcoal over gouache on various shades of Rives BFK printmaking paper. The originals range in size from 13"x 17" to about 6.5" x 15".

I won't show you the poor wooden mannequin that I dressed in a tissue paper sari after watching way too many "how to wear a sari" videos on YouTube...

For Demonstration Purposes Only.

2010-11-30T14:32:00.001-08:00

It's that time of the semester when I find myself doing demos. Lots and lots of demos. So skipping over the one where I painted a tarnished brass frog sprinkler in blue and orange gouache to demonstrate a logical place for a complementary color scheme, here's a portrait of a student in my Art Appreciation class, executed over the course of an hour in class.

Fabiola, 2010.
oil on canvas, 11" x 16"

The following two were separate technique and color scheme demonstrations, based on a sketch from my "Mind Your Manners, Alice Roosevelt!" book. They're both variations on tertiary, triadic color schemes, one utilizing a combination of red-orange, yellow-green and blue-violet, while the other is comprised mainly of red-violet, yellow-orange, and blue-green.

Each of these took about an hour and a half to complete (thankfully, the sketching and reference had been taken care of two years ago). The watercolor was for my University of the Arts Pictorial Foundation class, while the gouache was for a Seton Hall University 2-D Color & Design section.

Watercolor on Fabriano 140 lb. soft press, 10.75" x 13"

Gouache on Arches 140 lb. hot press, 10.75" x 13"

Here's the original oil that appears in the book:

"She simply decided to spend her time over his roof." 2010.
Oil on paper, 18" x 30"

...and the original sketch...

"She simply decided to spend her time over his roof." 2008.
Pencil and white gouache on gray Canson paper, 11" x 19"

Another train person.

2010-11-23T11:14:00.001-08:00

2010, 6" x 8.5"

Pastel, charcoal, conte and gouache on Rives BFK paper.

Mass Transit Hipster.

2010-10-17T08:08:00.000-07:00

7.25" x 8," 2010.
pastel, conte and charcoal over gouache
on gray Rives BFK paper.

It's World Egg Day!

2010-10-08T13:12:00.000-07:00

On approaching the object,
Mable could think of nothing but
omelets, pancakes and cookies;
her every neural impulse
trained on visions of
homecooked vittles,
baked and fried.

This was indeed unfortunate.

A book signing in Brooklyn...

2010-09-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

I'll be signing copies of THE BLUE HOUSE DOG at BookCourt, 163 Court St., Cobble Hill, Brooklyn on 10/3 at 11 with the book's author Deborah Blumenthal.

Stop on in, by all means!

If I knew what my laurels were, I might rest on them for a second.

2010-09-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

But as it turns out, I'm not sure from whence that saying derives. So I guess I won't.

For what I'll just generalize as contractual issues, I'm not saying what these are from at the moment. For now we'll just call them jobs, though if even that gives away too much, I'm happy to pretend for now that it's all from one big job detailing the long involved travails of Bigfoot, some yeti hunters, and a couple of time traveling musicians.

Various sizes, oil on paper, 2010.

Calico Dorsey

2010-09-02T12:34:00.001-07:00

Hey, even if it's not shipping until September 28th, my latest picture book illustration project on the market, "Calico Dorsey," written by the extraordinarily gifted Susan Lendroth, has already garnered a nice review from School Library Journal. In the in interest of shameless plugs and self-aggrandizement as a healthy and effective marketing and promotional tool, I'm reproducing it below:

Gr 2-5—Illuminating California's silver mining era, Lendroth creates a plausible story line. It is based on a possibility of actual events surrounding the Border collie that came to be an official U.S. Postal Service mail carrier, crossing the Mojave Desert between the town of Calico and the hills where the miners and prospectors worked. Perspectives on the dog's experiences are related by the Stacey brothers, who run the general store and post office; Nellie, the young daughter and niece; and Dorsey himself, which create excitement for young readers. In the author's notes, Lendroth writes that she uses the information she found during her research to create a story based on fact. Gustavson's paintings are intergrated into the text, flowing from page through the centerfold to page, making this obscure story larger than life. The vitality of the characters is enhanced by the artist's accurate, yet expressive details that add humor and sweetness to the faces of both the people and Dorsey.—Tina Hudak, St. Albans School, Washington, DC

The Blue House Dog

2010-08-17T18:52:00.000-07:00

...is now available. I'll be signing shiny new copies of the book with author Deborah Blumenthal Wednesday, August 18th from 10:30 - 11:30 at the Clinton Book Shop, 12 East Main Street, Clinton, NJ.

From Publishers Weekly:

Blumenthal’s dog-and-boy story may be too sad for some, but her lyrical prose and Gustavson’s (Mind Your Manners, Alice Roosevelt!) lush paintings have the impact of a documentary film. The Blue House Dog, a stray German shepherd mix, has been left homeless after his owner dies, while the death of the boy narrator’s old dog has left him bereft. Blumenthal (Charlie Hits It Big) observes the boy as he works to approach and tame the stray, paying close attention to physical sensations (“He lets me run my hand/ lightly over his fur./ It’s the same color as my hair”) and crafting affecting prose-poetic lines (“he scrunched down/ under a building,/ waiting like a soldier/ hiding from the enemy”). Gustavson’s paintings capture the big dog’s skittishness and the boy’s protective instincts. Scenes of autumn leaves and spring flowers reinforce the sense that the intimacy between the two takes months to develop. The emotions are raw and authentic, while the way in which they’re delivered is elegant--a potent combination. Ages 4-8.

End of the School Year...

2010-06-23T09:37:00.001-07:00

So it's time for some quick thank you cards to my children's wonderful teachers.

And their equally wonderful retiring principal.

Dead guys and deadlines.

2010-06-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

I'm currently working a series of illustrations for a mystery magazine called the Strand Magazine, which is publishing in serialized form a lost manuscript by the writer Graham Greene.

This isn't the first serialized novel I've illustrated; in 2000, I worked with The Oxford American magazine, illustrating the debut of John Grisham's A Painted House.

The Grisham job was full of interesting adventures from an illustration standpoint; each bimonthly issue contained between 4 and 6 oil paintings; each story installment rolled through my fax machine on an indeterminable Thursday night. Pencil sketches were due via fax the following day, and the paintings had to be dry enough to FedEx out on Monday, directly to the service bureau/printhouse doing the scanning so the magazine could go to press on Tuesday. Never quite knowing when the job would come in, I finished a few of them on vacations, once even sending the art out from a local upstate NY realtor's office, as they were the only scheduled FedEx pickup in town.

My initial offer to work for the Strand bore some semblance to this experience, actually. The initial email (oh, 2000, with your quaint fax toner ribbons and extra phone lines...) offered up two days for final art, no sketch required. It's a murder mystery, which obviously means I can't tell you anything that happens, except that for the sake of this post it takes place in an English estate around 1926, and includes an aging police detective and a houseful of deceptive, suspicious and temperamental Edwardians.

So with two days to draw, paint, dry, and scan, here's the detective in the dining room with the murder weapon. (I should probably take this moment to state that there is in fact no retired military man bearing a condiment for his surname, nor is anyone done in in the study with a candlestick.)

About two weeks ago, while in Savannah researching an different book project, I received another email, containing the next installment, this time with a week's deadline to produce a painting under. I spent most of that week with flu-like symptoms in a fetal crouch of self-pity and sinus mutiny, but pulled this one out in the end, with the help of a fast drying acrylic underpainting...

...only to discover that that particular scene will be fleshed out in the October installment. I'm still not telling you what happens, but apparently in between these two pieces, something like this happens with yet another English gentleman...

...who left a few dots of fresh white paint on my scanner bed.

The downside to super quick deadlines, really, is that they require a particular reliance on "chops," an the creative decisions made in them often have much to do with what someone like me is confident they can pull off in a pinch. So that said, there aren't a ton of surprises, no greenish skin tones or odd violet shadows spilling in from nowhere. The end result is fine, but the nuanced creativity in a painting—beyond concept and composition, which all need to work out pretty quickly too—often is the unpredictable stuff that happens in the third coat of paint, and sometimes, after all the wham-bam-thank-you- ma'am-er-google period research and figure studies, there just isn't time for one of those.

Holy Flying Boats!

2010-06-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

Some work for an upcoming project with the lovely folks at Corby Street Press, with more details to follow.

oil on paper, 13 x 20 inches

"Plein Air" sounds fancier than "That guy wandering around painting stuff."

2010-04-30T07:40:00.000-07:00

Orange Painting #3, 2010. Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 inches.

Orange Painting #2, 2010. Oil on prepared paper, 16 x 18 inches.

Orange Painting #1, 2010. Oil on prepared paper, 15 x 14 inches.

But that's what it looks like to everyone else.

I've been trying to get out of the studio and wander around the neighboring neighborhood, taking advantage of some of the dereliction and crumbling facades before they're one day torn down and replaced with something more respectable. Searching for character is really such a selfish pursuit; I think overall it's better to try capturing these fleeting bits of ugliness than it is to fight their slow gentrification and lament the aesthetic loss. Plainness does suit the greater good, really, far more than falling bricks and exposed wires. The things I like about squalor have far more to do with how it catches light than how nice it would be to live amongst.

It's National Rationalization Day!

2010-02-23T06:11:00.001-08:00

Kevin realized he'd left the screen door carelessly ajar, and for this he would surely be punished. Still, there were no longer any leftovers moldering in the fridge, and Mom had never really approved of those old hunting trophies anyway.

And...

Today also marks the launch of The Rhinoceros Boy's Lament Store on zazzle.com, accessible through the lovely widget panel to your right. You now have a one stop shop for Unholy Holiday ephemera and other high quality goodies.

Never again face Penguin Awareness Day without a gift to give!

The Low-down on Long-winded Me

2010-02-03T11:59:00.000-08:00

I had the pleasure this past Monday of talking with Mary Ann Scheuer at greatkidbooks.blogspot.com , a part of the Sydney Taylor Awards "blog tour" interview series. My 2009 title "The Yankee at the Seder," written by Elka Weber and published by Tricycle Press, was recently named a Sydney Taylor honor book by the Association of Jewish Libraries.

The interview, along with a plethora of related art, is posted over at greatkidbooks.blogspot.com.

The Year in Pictures

2010-01-05T08:15:00.000-08:00

2009 was a year of about eighty or so paintings around here; included in the mix were 36 watercolors completed in a two week span for an educational book packager, as well as two picture books taken from start to finish, and a few 2008 stragglers completed. Here are some highlights, in no particular chronological order.

From Calico Dorsey, by Susan Lendroth. Tricycle Press, 2010.

***

From Blue House Dog, by Deborah Blumenthal. Peachtree Publishing, 2010.

***

A handful of the afore-mentioned watercolors, though for contractual reasons that's about all I can tell you about them.

***

Mind Your Manners, Alice Roosevelt! by Leslie Kimmelman was completed and released this past year as well. Peachtree Publishing, 2009.

***

For my lovely sister-in-law's baby shower, of course. These were typeset with tongue-in-cheek dietary information and wrapped around baby food jars containing the party favors.

***

Also published in 2009 was The Yankee at the Seder, by Elka Weber. Tricycle Press.

Mutants and Maps.

2009-12-11T17:39:00.000-08:00

I had a nice opportunity this past month to work with the NYC firm Mutant Media, this time on a poster for Aramark's Fuel school lunch program, with art direction, design and photography by Jessica Mehlman and illustrations, hand lettering, and little touches of photoshoppy goodness by, well, me.

What's not to like about drawing a piratey map with platypus? Here's (respectively) the whole shebang, followed by some of the spots...

September 30th is Ask A Stupid Question Day.

2009-09-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

I won't be in the studio to celebrate it, as I'll be out teaching all day. Which, come to think of it, might provide ample celebration...

September 30th marks the much venerated
Ask a Stupid Question Day.

But it remains a day
like any other for
Eliza Lee Bonodona, who,
for once in her vibrant young life,
would like to take
her Capybara,
"Mr. Whiskers,"
to the park without without
having to respond to
the ubiquitous,
"Dude,
how old is that
Guinea Pig?"

August 22nd is National Tooth Fairy Day!

2009-08-21T10:34:00.000-07:00

While little publicized, it is nonetheless true that for every cavity, root canal, or pulled tooth, the Tooth Fairy pays one late night visit, during which she roots through couch cushions and laundry baskets, retrieving loose change from our less dentally fastidious populace. Every 22nd of August, she balances her books and purchases for herself a brand new tutu.

Adam Gustavson probably needs a haircut.

2009-07-13T12:46:00.001-07:00

Coming soon to a bookstore near you!

2009-07-08T14:31:00.001-07:00

By Leslie Kimmelman, Illustrated by Adam Gustavson
Peachtree Publishers, Atlanta Georgia

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Wah.
Wah who?

Wah hoo!

Planes, Trains, and Traffic Court

2009-05-25T12:26:00.001-07:00

...and one of my father-in-law's feet...

It's nice teaching with patient people.

2009-04-02T11:19:00.001-07:00

...who don't mind sitting for a drawing when a student cancels, leaving me with a random hour to fill.

Dragons.

2009-03-27T07:22:00.001-07:00

For this cycle's "Drawergeeks.com" post on the subject...

It's National Grammar Day!

2009-03-04T08:23:00.001-08:00

March 4th is National Grammar Day,
and so it bears mentioning that even if, in the end, the statement
"Ain't no way no flying pig's gonna hit this spot twice,"
achieves through its triple negative
an outcome no less negative than intended,
such a syntactic transgression rarely goes
uncontradicted or
unpunished.

Happy Groundhog Day.

2009-02-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

Uncle Chip would often detail
just how he'd shot it,
while his sister Mary would tell us
how easy it had been to clean.
It tasted a good deal like pot roast,
but pot roast made from a very,
very small cow.

Woroniak Family Groundhog

One Groundhog, cleaned and with scent gland removed, cut into sections.
One white onion, halved.
Three medium carrots, sliced.
Water.
Vegetable oil.
Salt and pepper.

Heat oil in a large skillet, brown ground hog sections.
Transfer to dutch oven.
Reduce heat, add one cup water and simmer till water reduces by 1/2. Repeat.
Add onion, carrots, and more water. Continue to simmer until sauce reduces and carrots are tender.

Salt and pepper to taste.

A Starred Review in Publishers Weekly

2009-01-27T07:04:00.000-08:00

For my forthcoming title with the charming folks at Tricycle Press, written by Elka Weber. Yay, team!

The Yankee at the Seder Elka Weber, illus. by Adam Gustavson. Tricycle, $16.99 (40p) ISBN 978-1-58246-256-1

When his mother invites a Union Army corporal—“a Yankee Jew” named Myer Levy—to join the family for Passover, Jacob is aghast: they're proud Virginia Confederates, and only 24 hours have passed since Lee's surrender. But Mother has tradition on her side: as she reminds Jacob, the Haggadah commands Jews to welcome “all who are hungry... all who are in need” to their seder tables. With a cinematic flair and rich, realist oils, Gustavson (A Very Improbable Story) depicts how a détente between North and South is forged—albeit tenuously—by the timeless values of faith, civility and chicken soup. Basing her writing on a historical incident, Weber makes an impressive debut. The fiercely held loyalties and enthusiasms of her 10-year-old narrator feel authentic, and her gift for dialogue—especially the Southern-Jewish inflections of Jacob's family—makes the pages fly. Above all, she deserves great credit for not forcing her characters to hug and learn in the final pages. “Well, that was something, wasn't it?” the mother says as the Yankee departs. Sensitively written and beautifully illustrated. Ages 7–9. (Mar.)

Bird Day.

2009-01-04T21:32:00.001-08:00

National Pie Day, among other things...

2008-12-01T08:23:00.001-08:00

A Cautionary Note In This Festive Time

While it is entirely true that
December 1st is National Pie Day,
and the first week of December marks
Recipe Greetings for the Holidays Week,
it is also worth noting that the whole
thirty-one days as a unit constitutes
(in the more temperate climates,
but I kid you not nonetheless)
Cooked Grasshoppers Month.

Have a Party With Your Bear Day Is Upon Us!

2008-11-14T07:37:00.000-08:00

A trip into the studio.

2008-10-21T07:28:00.001-07:00

Ah, for starters, we have an empty mushroom can, punched through multiple times with a nail, submerged in a Ball mason jar of odorless paint thinner. This allows for sediment to settle (cheaply) to the bottom as brushes are cleaned against the perforations. In the background is my ubiquitous pile of paint scraped from the palette.

The palette itself is a sheet of masonite topped with a sheet of glass, amply duct taped around the edges and propped on top of an end table. The idea here is that the masonite will provide a nice neutral—a (rather warm) 50% gray—upon with to mix colors, lending a sense of relativity to the values and intensities mixed up. The glass allows for smooth cleanup with a razor blade.

I tend to use, in light to dark rainbow order, toothpaste-sized globs of Titanium White, Cadmium Yellow Light, Naples Yellow (occasionally), Yellow Ochre, Cadmium Red Light, Quinacridone Rose, Permanent Alizarin Crimson (dries faster and is more lightfast than regular A.C.), Ultramarine Blue Deep, Cobalt Blue, Cerulean Blue, Sap Green, and a guest appearance at the end by Transparent red earth. Occasionally burnt umber and Prussian Blue get to sit in, too.

It would be awful nice if I'd ever gotten around to puttying and painting my walls/ceiling up here, but somewhere in the middle of racing to finish an attic studio, a kitchen, and a nursery in our house, my first son was born. So I now just try to keep in mind that the particle board walls here (couldn't get sheet rock up the narrow, twisting stairs) make the light exceeding warm when I'm mixing colors, and adjust accordingly through the magic of unscientific guestimation.

So, here's the book sketch I'm working from at the moment:

...which was assembled from fair amount of period photo reference, building floorplans, ebay auction photos, and reference photos of a student of mine, dressed in $60 worth of (ebay) hundred year old clothing, cross referenced with other photographic period clothing reference.

Halfway through our photoshoot, my good camera died, leaving me with only my phone to finish up with. Sooo professional.

The sketch was then printed up at about 150% (the heads were comfortable to draw and paint at that scale...) and transfered via a light table to Fabriano soft press watercolor paper, which had been treated with a 50/50 solution of PVA adhesive and water, leaving it impervious to the elements but still feeling like paper.

Everything is then toned with a wash of either burnt umber or burnt sienna:

Working in blocks of minimally modeled, muted local color to establish shadows and midtones, the painting is blocked in, usually over about 4-8 hours. I'm thinning the paints with a combination of turpentine, thickened linseed oil, and venice turpentine, which imparts a fairly impasto-free (no lumps), smooth surface, due to the venice turpentine's tendency to "level," or flatten out once applied.

When painting for reproduction, I've found this can help limit reflections and unpredictable sheen when the scanning is done. Thickened linseed oil (I usually use Winsor Newton's) is already half polymerized, which, while making it more viscous, also speeds along dry time.

I typically add a few drops (literally) of cobalt drier to the mix, after which the underpainting will be dry to the touch and ready for a second coat in about 24 hours.

I have in the past started with faces, following advice I received once that if one screws up the face, there's really no point in finishing. This can make the portrait aspect of the painting too "sacred" right off the bat, at least in my case, so I like to get a bit of the atmosphere and temperature nailed down first.

Then I break out the little brushes. I'd still hesitate to say I'm erring on the side of detailed realism; for the most part, my surfaces never transcend from being paint into, say, satin, wood or hair. When the size 1 round brush comes in, it spends a lot of time just cleaning up edges and producing smaller matrices of painterly dabs and blobs. A lot of time gets spent hiding colors inside of each other, trying to play up coloristic temperature shifts to activate as much of the paint surface as possible.

The entire project won't be due for another month or two, so I'll keep this painting out and visible while continuing to work on the remaining spreads and spots, checking character consistency and attending to occasional tweaks.

oil on paper, 17.75 x 30. 2008.

Flat File Friday!

2008-10-17T15:12:00.001-07:00

Sleepover, 2005. oil on paper, 15" x 22".

Open Letter to the House of Representatives.

2008-10-03T06:45:00.000-07:00

I'm writing you for your desperately needed help as a constituent, and as a creative professional eeking out a living in the US, primarily as an illustrator of children's books, urging you to PLEASE do what you can to prevent HR 5889 from going onto the House calendar for a vote, and even more importantly to NOT adopt the proposed Senate version of the bill, which was passed in relative secrecy one week ago.

The Senate bill on this subject, the Shawn Bentley Orphan Works Act, makes egregious changes to existing copyright law, some of which go so far as to trample articles of international treaties on the subject. I'm urging you to not allow the adoption of the Senate version of this bill in the House.

The Orphan Works legislation as it is currently written—and particularly in it's Senate form—would put a terrible burden on those of us working as small business owners, earning lower- to middleclass incomes licensing copyrights for our diligent, highly specialized and personal work in the educational, advertising, fine arts and publishing sectors.

These bills would overhaul the protections intrinsic in our society's understanding of intellectual property that allow our work to even exist, and must be CAREFULLY considered for the potential harm they would do to our nation's entrepreneurs and artists for the benefit of small time infringers and large corporate interests.

While their professed intent is to protect and free up our nation's rich visual culture, they would in fact do irreparable harm to the rights and livelihoods of those who create and contribute to that culture, even going so far as to provide a deterrent from continuing to create and build on that artistic heritage.

Please do not allow this legislation to squeak by in its current form, not while the nation's eyes are averted by other crises, crises that–like our current economic issue–stem from allowing the self serving and material interests of a few to run roughshod over some of the principles and individuals that make our country great.

Sincerely,
Adam Gustavson

PLEASE FORWARD THIS VERSION TO YOUR REPRESENTATIVE:

Dear ________,

I am writing you today regarding my opposition to H.R. 5889, the Orphan Works Act of
2008. This legislation, if passed as written, will have devastating
consequences for millions of copyright holders. On Friday, the Senate
passed their version of the Orphan Works bill, and my worst fears will
be realized if the House follows suit.

I am totally outraged that now˜

*UNDER COVER OF NIGHT
* UNDER COVER OF AN ECONOMIC CRISIS
* UNDER COVER OF ANOTHER TELEVISED DEBATE

when we were led to believe that the bill would not be passed by the
110th Congress NOW is when Congress is trying to re-write our
copyright laws.

I am joining in with of a loosely formed alliance of 75 organizations representing
over 500,000 artists, photographers, musicians and writers˜AND WE WANT
OUR VOICES HEARD. Please do NOT allow this bill to pass now˜ and do NOT
adopt the Senate version of the bill. This radical change to copyright
law is not in the best interests of our country ESPECIALLY given the
economic crisis we are facing. In the upcoming election this will be a
vote-deciding issue for me and many artists in our nation. We need to have a
voice in crafting appropriate Orphan Works legislation which will not
devastate multiple industries, and despite what you may have been told
we have not been given that opportunity. Please help us make that
happen˜in the 111th Congress.

I look forward to your reply.

Sincerely,

Your name

Jerry Hall, he is so small...

2008-10-02T11:02:00.000-07:00

...a rat could eat him, hat and all.

-Mother Goose

There was a crooked man.

2008-10-01T16:31:00.000-07:00

Quoth dear Mother Goose:

There was a crooked man
Who walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked six pence
Against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat
Who caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
in a crooked little house.

Aside from the wonderful weirdness of this nursery rhyme—it reads more like a Tom Waits boozer than an evening lullaby—there were some things in particular that excited me once I decided the crooked man would have a mean case of scoliosis an over-sized orthopedic shoe.

The main detail was the stile. A stile is apparently a human passageway through or over a livestock fence, sometimes a narrow opening, sometimes a small series of steps, and other times a pairing of ladders. Whatever the variety, they are never handicapped accessible, and the "crooked" quality of this one indicates it's not a simple opening between barbed wire posts. And the crooked man, pondering the impossibility of the short climb ahead, finds instead a crooked six pence at his feet.

And that is enough for him to purchase for himself a crooked cat. I originally wanted a manx, a tailless cat...every see one walking? Crooked. Of course, if this wasn't obvious enough, a cat with no tail in a painting could just look like an oversight, so I gave in and gave him a tail. And a crooked mouse (on the brim of the pork pie hat).

After all that good fortune and comeraderie, where else could they possibly live together in all their curmudgeonly creakiness?

I'll tell you what it's for later...

2008-09-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

oil on paper, 18 x 30. 2008.

But for now, it's for a book. About a person. For, like, a company.

A company that publishes books. When it's done, and furthermore when it reaches shelves, I'll be happy to give the author and I a big, loud, virtual pat on the back, with maybe a chest pound and a "hey look at me look at me look at me."

But for now, I'll be vague.

Leaf Guy.

2008-08-27T11:47:00.001-07:00

Maple leaf, stem, twigs, grass clippings.

My two brothers and I used to make these in our back yard, some time back in grade school. I took it upon myself to teach my sons how to make them this past weekend, with varying levels of success.

After making enough of them as youths, my fraternal collaborators and I developed something of a science to the whole process; the optimum leaf size, twig proportions, even the freshness of the grass clippings we stuffed them with.

There were even a few we equipped with various weedy entrails and dandelion hearts. Then, perhaps just being boys, we did awful, torturous things to them.

Happy Sea Serpent Day!

2008-08-06T20:48:00.001-07:00

A few words of caution:

When encountering an aquatic beast of unknown origin, always maintain a safe enough distance to account for the possibility that the object of your attention is in fact a sock puppet.

Some train sketches.

2008-07-21T10:26:00.001-07:00

pen on paper, 5"x7". 2008

A nifty collaboration with the KLUTZ folks.

2008-07-19T09:16:00.001-07:00

Why do I suspect this was one of the coolest jobs ever in the history of ever?

Well, when else but when working on a spread for "The 15 Greatest Board Games in the World" would I get paid to paint a kangaroo driving a Karmann Ghia through the Outback?

The car was originally slated to be baby blue, until the design team alerted me to the fact that the make and model I'd chosen was serendipitously the same driven by their editor, only hers was green.

Infomercial painting tip: If you ever feel moved to change a sports car in an oil painting from baby blue to a dusty 1970's green in less than a day, I highly recommend putting down a thin glaze of Schmincke brand "Indian Yellow." I bought a tube of it sometime around 1995, and until this painting had not figured out what on earth to use it for. It's very transparent, has no tinting strength at all, and is really too cheap to be worth returning, to expensive to throw out.

Hope you all celebrated in kind.

2008-06-26T09:39:00.001-07:00

Although possession of a walking catfish has been illegal in the United States for years, Clement W. Clementine of rural Florida has had on his property since 1968 a member of the species named Charles, who has in time grown to exceed 170 pounds and even learned to play chess.

For those of you who commonly receive these in the mail and mumble to yourselves, "uh, what?", I give you this snap shot into the engineer's seat of my train of thought. I'd call it my conceptual problem solving technique, but that really might be stretching it.

First off, yesterday really was Catfish Day. (I have my sources.)

Near dams in North America, catfish the size of late 70's Hondas have been reported and sometimes even photographed; being bottom feeding scavenger types of indiscriminate palate, they munch away idly at anything that collects there, which pretty much encompasses everything that flows downstream.

Now that's weird already. What about walking catfish?

I looked them up. They are an invasive species from Southeast Asia, and very resilient. Their "walking" basically entails flopping from stagnant pool to stagnant pool, aided by lungs in addition to gills, a handy hybrid breathing feature.

So that's kind of irresistible. Combine the two and you get a 170 pound walking catfish. Of course, to really get the scale visually, one needs a frame of reference. A bike or car won't do; then he'd be, like, a driving catfish (though that contradiction too is tempting). He'll need a person. For some sort of dichotomy to remain intact, though, the picture is going to require a sense of companionship and sympathy, someone who would give a giant alien bottom feeder the benefit of the doubt.

I was originally figuring this would be a child. Children don't always give each other the benefit of the doubt, but a big ugly misunderstood animal could gain trust and protection pretty quickly. E.T. lucked out more than a little bit by cavorting with juveniles. But the big walking catfish just looked too ominous for a postcard; to really get the camaraderie would have required more than a cursory glance. Yup, once Frankenstein threw the little girl in the well, it got harder to pull this sort of thing off.

But it has been illegal to own one in the US for a number of years; though I couldn't find a consistent date for the legislation, this got me thinking, since their appearance does date to about 1968. That brought me to Clement W. Clementine here, and his first tour in 'Nam when he smuggled home a small, slimy souvenir of his traumatic tropical ordeal. He moved as far from civilization as he could bear to after the war, living in small shotgun style house in the Florida panhandle, blithely sticking it to the man through a blend of earthy hippie independence and libertarian stubbornness, living off the land and selling pirated copies of "Easy Rider" over the Internet.

The catfish, who was named Charles after Victor Charlie, the Viet Cong archetype, has lived on this wild, sprawling property since the war years, and will engage in a game of chess every now and then, provided Clement spritzes him with an atomizer periodically, keeping him moist.

Charles is, perhaps needless to say, a terrible chess player, and Clement whups his butt at it regularly.

Would you sell a franchise to this man?

2008-06-13T11:35:00.001-07:00

Evolving businessmen, on their way to trade shows in hopes of one day operated their own franchise operations...of course, they're not heading to my client's client's trade show, which only deals with the most evolved of the species.

The Grandpapa.

2008-05-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

oil on paper, 2008

A peek at the new book I'm currently up to my coiffure in paintings for. Stay tuned!

Can you hold that?

2008-05-06T18:47:00.001-07:00

I may not be able to speak for the rest of you
spouses of bookish young men
smudged with cadmium
and disheveled,
but it would seem to me
wearying to recline finally,
feet swollen and aching from the day's labors,
only to hear those four words,
four dreadful and dreaded words,
whispered from across the sofa,
or parlor,
or bedroom,
or table,
which seem to imply
that your reverie is not your own,
but your static sinews are now fodder
for the flights, frustrations, scrubbing and swearing
of that cadmium smudged and disheveled
bookish young man
to whom you swore for what remains of your life
virtuous patience and love
but above all,
it would seem now,
patience.

The Lone Ranger.

2008-05-01T08:27:00.001-07:00

Saturday is World Cow Chip Day!

2008-04-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

Three of a kind.

2008-04-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

The Douglas Boy.

2008, oil on paper, 9.5" x 12" .

My latest contribution to the "Drawer Geeks" club. The theme this time around was "triplets," implying anything coming in a set of three.

My wife gave me a long, strange look after I finished it.

I still haven't figured out how the three brains work together or against each other, but I'll let you know if I do. Right now, I figure that our young man has mostly monocular vision, like having a lazy eye, but that periodically the role of vision shifts from one brain to another, and with it goes control of his body and will. The blue eye is probably right handed, the brown one left handed, and the green ambidextrous, though I'd imagine it also represents his more sociopathic self.

He has a lot of cowlicks, and his left-eye cerebellum was slow to potty train.

Samurai.

2008-04-03T20:37:00.001-07:00

ink and gouache, 9"x12"

When asked to join in an online club of cartoonists, illustrators and animators called "Drawer Geeks" with the promise of biweekly random assignments, how could one possibly say no? How could one resist the gleeful clicking of heels and a quick girlish squeal?

This is my first contribution, or at least the first I managed to finish on time. Knowing almost nothing about the samurai outside of video game I once played in 1988, I thought limiting my research to an hour peering at such men of mystery photographed in the 1800s would be far more honest than trying to get any of the ancient armor right. I gathered at least that they didn't smile a whole bunch, but were prone to fabulous coiffures and some very cool high domed woven hats, the sort of haberdashery I, personally, could never pull off.

It is unfortunate, however, that a sheathed pair of samurai swords from almost any angle looks like an act of sepuku.

Some three hour paintings.

2008-03-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

oil on canvas, 12 x 16. 2008

I started taking a painting class at the Art Students' League in New York this past month; as of today, two of the paintings have even dried. I'm plugging away at a picture book deadline till May, and thought I could use a visit back to the land of fundamentals with some intense observation and improvisation thrown in for good measure. Hopefully this will help keep the studio paintings from looking too stale as I dig in further.

Daylight savings time.

2008-03-08T18:43:00.001-08:00

pencil and gouache on paper, 12" x 14.5", 2008

Surrounded by my studio detritus,
sitting on the futon
—that particularly uncomfortable,
and maybe even evil—
futon that her sister had given us
the first month we were married,
she was kind enough to sit for a drawing.
So she sat reading
bleary eyed for close to an hour
growing perhaps
smarter with each minute,
each word,
each chapter, sub-chapter,
footnote and sidebar,
while I sat across from her
in an old office chair
wired together with a coat hanger,
face, hands and clothes
smudged with silvery graphite and overpriced paint,
squinting to find the line between
the candid light on her cheekbones
and that funny look she gets
when she's thinking,
carried off somewhere
miles from the futon
–so miserly with the comfort it lends–
and the stacks of tape,
paper,
bubble wrap,
and crinkled, forgotten photos and doodles
that adorn each horizontal surface
around her now.
Outside the wind blows loudly through our stringy maples,
the lights flicker
and a chill drifts slowly through the seams
of the old house,
the one that we never quite finished
before the boys were born.
There are two boys now, fitfully asleep,
and I really must hurry–
a few more dabs of white,
and not so pretty
that she'll become skeptical.

6 am comes early tomorrow.

The Missus.

2008-03-08T06:58:00.000-08:00

pencil and gouache, 12" x 18", 2008

Portrait sketch...almost

2008-02-14T10:02:00.001-08:00

I was working with a high school student on a self-portrait project and did this little drawing of her in her sketchbook, demonstrating certain landmarks of human physiology and how they can sit in perspective. It almost looked like her, which was a plus. I don't usually do demos that require this kind of accuracy, as failing miserably at them can really muddy whatever point was to be made.

I made a photocopy of it and brought it home where I produced the following small oil painting from it.

It still almost looks like her.

It's Flat File Friday!

2008-02-08T09:19:00.000-08:00

Some development work from several back burner proects I haven't quite gotten off the ground yet...

A Sketch of Andy.

2008-02-08T09:08:00.000-08:00

My older brother.

Hooray! It's Spunky Old Broads Day.

2008-02-01T05:53:00.000-08:00

oil on paper, 8"x10"

It wasn't the 1950 Vincent she rode
that Burt found enticing.
It wasn't the leather chaps
or the jacket
or the way she kept her silver curls
twisted up under her violet half helmet.
It wasn't even the women's penitentiary
teardrop tattoo,
Prussian blue bleeding into her crow's feet.
It was the lace and needlepoint
flowered seat cushion
puffy and downy white
perched on top
of her chrome and black chariot.
Had she made that?
Did the prison tat
and all that ebonized cowhide
conceal a softer,
even grandmotherly soul
with gentle hands
and a homey, suburban
decorative streak?

He revved his Viking
and pulled out of the rest stop.
The sky was a gleaming white
and overhead
a circle of turkey buzzards
clung gallantly to gusts of wind.

As for the seat cushion,
she'd probably
just pilfered it
from a newly deceased
cell mate.

I was young. I needed the money.

2008-01-29T14:11:00.001-08:00

I wasn't all that young, come to think of it.

And it might not have been that much money.

These are two pieces commissioned for completely different stories in Cricket Magazine, in 2004 and 2005 respectively. I was kind of fond of them at the time, and the stories were enjoyable to work on.

The second one came about as a bit of an oddity. A different illustrator had been commissioned to illustrate parts 1, 2 and 3 of a serialized fantasy piece, and for some reason didn't complete the fourth chapter. I was called on to finish out the series, staying as close as possible to the original characterizations, one of whom I now see looks serendipitously like the girl in the pickup truck from 2004.

Apparently this poor young actress is floating about in the ether, picking up whatever gigs she can. She's probably pushing 30, still taking on teen angst roles and toothpaste ads, waiting for her big break. I'm now wondering if I've used her elsewhere.

Maybe I made her the pregnant daughter of an Arkansas sharecropper.

Or maybe I sketched her out as an emotionally scarred college freshman, raised in a trailer park and plagued by generalized anxiety and a fear of canines? I'll check my flat file, but I'd bet that was her.

I hope she's doing okay. I've been mostly dealing in juvenile fiction now, picture books and educational bread-and-butter stuff. If she can hang on a little longer, just spend one more year eating Ramen and tending bar in dimly lit Tiki lounges, maybe I can start casting her in some of the Mom roles that crop up.

Yeah, Mom roles. No big break on the horizon, no center stage mass market appeal—still fighting over contracts and escalation clauses, all the while knowing she can't just walk out of any negotiation. But still, something to keep the landlords and meter readers at bay. Maybe buy a new coffee maker, maybe some furniture that doesn't fold up or inflate.

I just hope she can hang out that long.

A Sketch.

2008-01-26T21:11:00.001-08:00

I'll tell you what it's for later.

Flat File Friday.

2008-01-25T13:34:00.000-08:00

Murder Lane, Spring. Watercolor on paper, 7.5 x 11.
Monolith. Watercolor on paper, 11x7.5.

Two watercolors, from the southern wilds of New Jersey and the Northernmost counties of New York, respectively. Had to blow some dust off before scanning these fellers.

Today is National Polka Dot Day.

2008-01-22T08:18:00.000-08:00

Office lovin': an editorial assignment.

2008-01-19T09:33:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this.

It's not uncommon for illustrators to cringe when enlisted by a client who already has a concept. The fear is that said concept will not hold an incredible amount of aesthetic appeal or involve inspiring imagery, and may be altogether toothless. In defense of cringing illustrators everywhre, this in not infrequently true.

Often, these ideas come from our more corporate clients, or at least clients whose clients live in a corporate culture. It's a tricky working dynamic to begin with, since as a whole, we illustrator types don't really cohabit that world.

This recent job, for instance, was completed for HR Magazine, for an article about Human Resources departments requiring romantically involved coworkers to sign contracts with regard to their relationships, pledging to indemnify their employer should the relationship sour. I haven't actually been in a human resources office since high school, when applying for a summer job at a local nursing home. The phrase "human resources" even creeps me out a little; the thought of an employer referring to personnel by their species–under the category of "resources," like oil, or livestock, or semolina wheat–seems to me one step up from "cannon fodder."

I also didn't get to read the article. I still don't know if the "love contract" was being purported as a good idea, a bad idea, or a complex issue pitting one entity's need for professional productivity against the devaluation of human emotion and the intrinsic need for companionship, love and sex. All I got was a blurry stock photo of three people in business casual dress sitting across a table from each other, smiling rather innocuous stock photo smiles, and a bit of instruction as to who would be who in my picture and what they were doing.

So first off...

I decided the couple involved was deeply, naively, in love. And that, like exchanging class rings, meeting the parents, moving in together and signing a marriage license, signing a corporate "love contract" was another right of passage in our culture's constantly evolving expectations of normal romantic entanglement and perhaps even generate a heartfelt "awww" from onlookers.

Back to those cringing illustrators.

Personally, I kind of like those jobs the rest of my ilk dread...not that there haven't been some real clunkers. But I like working with people. I do enjoy trying to find that little bit of art that can wiggle in within small parameters. And I like sharing credit if something works, or maybe I like not being solely responsible if it doesn't. (I hadn't considered that last on before. I do hope I'm not that shallow, but I'll gladly spare myself the self-examination.) I enjoy having to consider my audience, and making things "good" examples of what they are...like, say, a painting of a human resources desk and some good old fashioned office love.

The relativism of it all appeals to my moderate temperament and populist world view, I reckon. When my artsy elitism gets out of check, I can suddenly feel small and outnumbered in the world at large. This could be because I've never been the type to take off my shoe, pound it on a lectern, and expound red-faced with flying expectoration and vigor. I'm not without passions, but I usually make a much better devil's advocate that ideologue.

That was a long preface. Anyway, above is my sketch for the illustration, followed by the oil painting, all of which fell under a turnaround of just under a week.

A Review in the New York Times...

2008-01-15T17:01:00.000-08:00

...for my new book, a collaboration with writer Lester Laminack, Snow Day!

And I dare say, they didn't hate it. I personally do love the New York Times. I once received a review there, however, that left me feeling as though our relationship was less than mutual. Having not been reviewed by them several other times, I consoled myself with the knowledge that they'd once deemed a book of mine important enough to hate, which is still a privilege enjoyed or wept over by precious few. And now, by golly, another review, and subtly positive!

My sincere tongue-removed-completely-from-my-cheek-I-swear-it thanks to Ms. Julie Just for penning said review. It's only fair to note as well that the same Ms. Just wrote a very nice review of my book with Louise Borden, "The Last Day of School" in 2006, which was also printed in the New York Times.

Bookshelf

January 13, 2008

SNOW DAY!
Written by Lester L. Laminack. Illustrated by Adam Gustavson. Peachtree. $16.95. (Ages 4 to 8)

“So much snow, even the buses can’t go. No — so much snow even the teachers can’t go.” That pretty much sums up the appeal of a cheerful tribute to muffled, white, unexpected days off, with pictures of blue-white, gleaming snow piling up to the sill as a grave-looking forecaster on TV raises hopes for a big storm. All the excited visions of children making snow angels and speeding down a sledding hill are a diversionary trick: at the end we find out who really wanted the snow day.

-Julie Just

Bugs.

2008-01-07T06:39:00.000-08:00

Cockroach and Grasshopper were playing a round of beach volleyball over the net Spider had made, but Cockroach became overzealous and spiked the ball right into his friend's green noggin. Grasshopper fell over backward. Cockroach was filled with remorse. Spider tried not to look too hungry, but it was really hard.

My sons and I have been painting at the dining room table; bugs mostly, with the occasional dragon thrown in. This was my contribution. Theirs are likely much cooler, so I'll be posting them a little later.

Three more sketchbook pages.

2008-01-06T11:21:00.001-08:00

Morning hair.

2008-01-04T06:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wake up
with superhero hair.
I think maybe,
maybe
I could be Wolverine,
rugged and fierce,
temperamental yet
dangerously charming.
And then I remember
that I can't grow sideburns.
And superheros
always
always
have good scruff.
Except maybe Storm
and Wonderwoman
(though she's getting up there in years
and I wouldn't rule it out).
But Wolverine has formidable,
spiky muttonchops,
not patches of a poorly mowed lawn.
So I sigh.
I wash my hair
and finally shave.
No superheros today.

The age of mammals.

2008-01-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

With the words
MADE IN CHINA
embossed upon his plastic loins,
the cheap T-rex comes apart.

The mammoth, however, lives on.

The missus has a cold.

2007-12-30T07:50:00.000-08:00

ink and gouache on paper, 9.75" x 13". 2007

It's Wear a Plunger On Your Head Day!

2007-12-17T11:10:00.001-08:00

oil on canvas, 2007

December 18th is traditionally Wear a Plunger On Your Head Day, a day that ex-bounty hunter Vern Halsey and his beloved Komodo Dragon, Felix, continue to celebrate almost entirely by themselves.

I've looked high and low, and while I've found several sources of documentation confirming this holiday's existence, nowhere have I found any explanation—and I'd settle for an implausible one—for said existence.

Nonetheless, there really is something inherently funny about plungers, something that goes beyond pure potty humor, something about their clumsy shape and vaguely onomatopoetic appellation, coupled with the lack of romance to be found in their one true function.

For all the unsavory qualities of their calling, there is something friendly or at least nonthreatening enough about a plunger that some ninny out there would not only suction one of those terra cotta hued babies to his noggin, but declare a day of solidarity with all other such ninnies.

Smoothies!

2007-12-17T06:45:00.000-08:00

Technically speaking... ahem...

A fruitful collaboration with St. John & Partners, a Jacksonville, FL, design firm, led to the creation of several full color illustrations for national nutritional product franchise Smoothie King’s 4th quarter promotional materials.

Owing to a new diet heavy on all natural fruit smoothies, holiday perennials Santa Claus, the Gingerbread Man, and a carrot-nosed snowman show off their virile new figures in an assortment of on-site banners, menus, and posters.

The final images were rendered in oils at various sizes, and delivered digitally for placement in their respective layouts.

The turnaround, from sketch to finish, was one week.

It's National Scrapple Day!

2007-11-06T10:09:00.001-08:00

oil on paper, 13" x 22".
brush, pen and ink, 7" x 5"

"Leo 'Pops' Spirodopolous, proprietor and short order cook of the Possum Poke Diner, prides himself on shaping his scrapple into reconstituted animal shapes, which are rendered nearly unrecognizable once cooked. This, however, no one ever mentions to him."

For those of you too far west to have enjoyed this mid-Atlantic treat, scrapple is a yummy gray loaf of finely ground, boiled pork scraps mixed with cornmeal, salt, and pepper. It is best served sliced and fried, and tastes like, well, scrapple. Not sausage, not bacon, not even chicken, but its own unique oeuvre of olfactory stimulation, an achievement not often attained by offal-based processed breakfast side orders. While not quite a delicacy, this oft-maligned regional artery stopper is lauded fervently by its many flanneled defenders, and its mention in even passing conversation is met consistently with fanatical praise or unbridled nose-crinkling disgust.

Even among its supporters, the dish is frequently described as an acquired taste. The chilly Saturday morning my dad first tried to acquaint his young children with it, none of us could be sure what to make of it, for its texture and flavor defied even our most imaginative expectations. It should be noted, too, that in spite of its seeming malleability, it does not take well to being modeled into cool shapes before frying, and believe me, we tried.

Three new paintings.

2007-10-30T17:39:00.001-07:00

Boxing Day, 2007. oil on paper, 10"x10"

Dog on the ice, 2007. oil on paper, 22"x22"

The blushing bride, 2007. oil on paper, 10"x10"

You are certainly not my neighbor's cat.

2007-10-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

pen and ink, 5in. x 7 in.

That is, the skittish gray tabby we set the trap for
whose green eyes glared out at me
from beneath my shamefully uncool minivan.
You are not that cat.
Yet you return again and again,
drawn by a fly specked can of sun-warmed tuna
hunkering silently in the corner of the cage
chagrined by your greed and gullibility perhaps.
Your gray coat reminds me of the wily mane
donned by an old writing professor of mine,
while your tail at a glance
resembles some ancient, exotic root vegetable.
And finally my friend,
if it must be pointed out,
your smell—
your smell is less than spectacular.

Flat File Fridays!

2007-09-28T06:33:00.000-07:00

various sizes, gouache on paper

I think it was January of 2006. My brother was ice fishing with a mug of Irish whiskey, a little snowman at his feet, courtesy of his soon-to-be-wife, Erika. It was cold and gray out, and the ice on the lake, solid since Thanksgiving, was blanketed in crusty snow.

I had to keep taking my gloves on and off in the course of these two studies, and at some point concluded that getting the face to look like his would take more time than my bared digits could handle. The sky was getting dark fast. I'm pretty sure I had my own coffee mug of whiskey too, poured over two rocks that over the course of an hour never got any smaller.

January of 2006 sounds about right. Anyway, it was cold.

National Collect Rocks Day

2007-09-19T21:42:00.000-07:00

Really, it is. You should all head on out and celebrate.

New Feature: Flat File Fridays!

2007-08-31T07:39:00.000-07:00

watercolor and gouache on paper, 7.4" x 11.25"

From the dusty vaults...

This was painted in the Adirondacks, sometime around Summer '01, I think.

Frogs apparently make good models. People will pose, but they're always, like, "I have to go check the roast," or "I have to run out at quarter-of," or "Are you done with my nose? Can I move yet?" Frogs don't do none o' that.

After an hour, this handsome fellow still hadn't budged. No complaining about stiff joints or anything of the like. If he had an amphibian picnic to attend that afternoon, he gave indication of no such pressing engagement.

It could just be that he was a jerk, that the other frogs and newts never invited him anywhere. I'm not ruling that out, and as I've always gotten on pretty well with difficult social types I'm not sure I would have noticed. Still, he posed like a champ, and I'm posting this as a tribute to his princely virtues and resilience. I dearly hope he went on to live a long life and father thousands of patient, virtuous children.

One of nine.

2007-08-30T06:55:00.001-07:00

oil on canvas, 12"x18"

Busy week.

Those are good... the dog parlor sketch went through without a hitch, so here's the painting. I'll be finishing the last few from this series today and posting them soon.

But first, I think I'll have another cup of coffee.

Diner guys.

2007-08-22T08:36:00.000-07:00

I love diners. Especially diners that supply crayons.

And to my son David—
I'm sorry I stole your crayons.

A fine whine.

2007-08-02T19:05:00.001-07:00

oil on paper, 20x26. 2007

Back in March, I was asked to volunteer a piece for the 2008 National Public Radio calendar, under the theme of "what NPR means to me." Past calendars included art from Gary Kelley and Brad Holland. I was flattered.

Above is a view of my studio. Milling about or sharing their particular gifts and insights are a midwestern pig farmer, a (female) marine, a hyperventilating businessman, a jazz pianist, as well as the performance artist Marina Abramovic, whose feet dangle from the ceiling. Paris Hilton remains safely oustide. We don't let her in.

The whole thing didn't really go as planned. This isn't the painting as it appears in the NPR 2007-08 calendar, for a number of reasons that I probably shouldn't get into...talking shop can get tedious even when it doesn't involve whining tantrums.

A sketch.

2007-08-02T17:52:00.001-07:00

pencil and gouache on toned paper, 2007

One of my constant fears as an illustrator is for the livelihood of a sketch that just won't go through.

As far as occupational hazards go, I could really do worse. Still, it's not rare that the one I've been looking forward to painting is the one left by the wayside. And when you're an illustrator, doing the piece anyway as one of those proverbial "good portfolio pieces" still just lands it in the flat file. Even a good one rarely transcends its intended function to become, well, plain ol' art.

So in celebration of these scribbled little seeds dreaming of fruition, here's a recent sketch for an educational job I'm working on, just in case I don't get a chance to finish it out. The scene finds us in a pet grooming parlor, two private detectives snooping about.

I have to say, I'm kinda fond of the preposterously poodle-haired proprietress...

Pop?

2007-08-02T13:02:00.000-07:00

oil on canvas, 12x16. 2007

I had the opportunity this past weekend to participate in a nifty art opening at the Wired Gallery in Bethlehem PA.

Although I've exhibited there before, I wasn't actually in the current show, which is dedicated to some really nice contemporary pop art. I was one of three artists set up in the midst of the crowd painting this young lady, who had borrowed her striking wardrobe from the racks of the nearby "POPMart" clothing and accoutrement store.

Lots of fun... Even the nice old lady who let me know that while the face was lovely, I'd "lost it" when it came to painting the lower leg area. "Mmm," I said. I'm never sure what the right response is at a moment like that, so I toasted her with my complementary mini-can of Budweiser. "You could be right."

And here I was worried about its flagrant aura of academia...

Kicking and Screaming Into the 21st Century

2007-08-02T12:18:00.000-07:00

Those well acquainted with me are already aware of the trepidation with which I take on all things digital. It's only fair to tell you—you know, whoever you may be—that I wanted to be sure creating a blog wasn't akin to investment in an 8-track or Laserdisk player, or one of those fur-collared sheepskin jackets that all the thuggish boys had to have when I was in fifth grade.

So if someone out there in the ether will promise me, that now that I've finally emerged from my technophobic cocoon, that I'm not metaphorically putting a phone in my car that requires one of those boomerang shaped antennas on the trunk, well, I'll get on with it.