Stand Up And Sing!

Stand Up And Sing! is my latest collaboration with author Susanna Reich. It's the story of folk singer, activist, environmentalist, and erstwhile shipbuilder Pete Seeger, from his birth in 1919 to his passing in 2014, complete with forays into the labor movement, McCarthyism, the Civil Rights era, and the founding of the Clearwater organization.

Publisher's Weekly just had these kind words to say about it:

Reich and Gustavson, who previously collaborated on Fab Four Friends, deliver a rich portrait of musician and activist Pete Seeger, focusing on how his deeply held convictions galvanized his music. Gustavson’s mixed-media illustrations highlight Seeger’s modest upbringing and down-to-earth persona, pairing lushly illustrated scenes of him traveling and performing with rough, loose sketches of unemployed men lined up for free food during the Great Depression, a couch where Seeger rested while on tour, and soldiers wading through a river in Vietnam (Seeger was outraged when one of his protest songs, “Waist Deep in the Big Muddy,” was cut from a television appearance). It’s an intimate look at a pivotal American figure who saw himself, as Reich notes, as a link in “a chain in which music and social responsibility are intertwined.” Ages 6–9. Author’s agent: Edward Necarsulmer IV, Dunow, Carlson & Lerner. Illustrator’s agent: Abigail Samoun, Red Fox Literary. (Mar.)

The artwork for the book takes a couple directions, medium-wise. I wanted the backgrounds to have a texture reminiscent of a calfskin banjo head, something accomplished with thinned down oil paint on prepared paper and a lot of trial and error. 

The full color art is painted in gouache, but I wanted the spot art to have a sense of immediacy, functioning as little passing details to land on through the storytelling, but not things to be lingered on much. Pete's life story is rich in experiences, and the varied visual approach is an attempt to fit as much in as possible, while helping to prioritize and elevate some details above others. It also serves to provide a rhythm to the narrative, something that can be a challenge in nonfiction (life events don't care if they happen in a convenient story arc, and sometimes need to be coaxed a bit). 

Nailing down a consistent likeness for a protagonist who ages 90+ years in the course of a tale is in itself a very specific challenge. My previous book with Susan, Fab Four Friends, had similar challenges, and getting things to feel right without giving the art a stiff or self-conscious quality is a real balancing act. In both books, the characters, period details of their surroundings, and their relationships to their specific instruments through the years all had to be delicately shoehorned into compositions that first and foremost served the story, hopefully stripping away some mystique from cultural icons in service of empathy.

(And while some instances of reference hunting reveal precise details, like the color of the anti-macassars on Paul's mom's couch here, other elements are informed by odd tidbits of outside knowledge, like the fugitive quality of red dye used in cheap guitars from the fifties, which makes them appear more neutral or greenish in their present form.)

Kirkus calls me "easy on the eyes," and other review news.

Hey, my upcoming book Dirty Rats? by Darrin Lunde (Charlesbridge) has garnered some friendly press worth sharing.

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/darrin-lunde-54167/dirty-rats/

Gustavson joins the rescue operation with close-ups of rats rendered in naturalistic detail but looking more inquisitive than feral, sporting large pink ears and whiskery snouts. Some of the city settings are picturesquely grimy, but there are no dead creatures or images more disturbing than, in one scene, a white lab rat and a researcher in surgical garb locking eyes. On the contrary, another illustration even features a rat leaning in from the edge of the page to peer up at viewers, and a closing portrait gallery of selected rat species is equally fetching.

http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-1-58089-566-8

Few animals are as maligned as rats, something mammal specialist Lunde knows well. “Dirty rats. Their beady eyes and naked tails make us scream. Eek! Aargh! Yikes!” he writes as a frightened woman in hair curlers tries to sweep rats off her apartment’s fire escape...Gustavson’s typically lush oil paintings do their part to help sway opinions—his sewer rats come across as intelligent, curious, and even adorable. 

Like a Rolling... well, you know.

Hey!

You can read the article here.   More imagery, nice things said about the art, and angry trolls in the comments section!

Hey! It's a mini interview with life sized me.

Care of the fabulous Molly Idle.  Wherein I expound on questions about the creative process, style, and the five words that describe me best.

Read the whole shebang here. The word here, that is. Just in case you thought it was here on this blog somewhere, which it's not. It's here.

To lure you in, here's a new image from a new title spoken about therein. And when the book comes out, there'll be 34 more where that came from...

 

From Rock and Roll Highway: The Robbie Robertson Story, by Sebastian Robertson. 

Christy Ottaviano Books, 2014.

Now available, folks!

The latest offering from author Bill Wise, Silent Star: The Story of Deaf Major Leaguer William Hoy, which is, hey, illustrated by Adam Gustavson, is now both available and the recipient of some awfully nice reviews.



"At a time when deaf people were routinely called “Dummy,” William Hoy accepted and owned the nickname proudly.

". . . Employing rich descriptive language with just the right combination of drama and information, Wise emphasizes Hoy’s steadfastness and determination in his baseball exploits and in every endeavor before and after his career. Gustavson’s sharply detailed illustrations, rendered in oil on paper, follow the text faithfully and offer glimpses into the look and feel of life and baseball in the19th century. Line sketches of baseball action and hand signals fill the endpapers.

"A fascinating introduction to a little-known hero."

-Kirkus Reviews

A Glowing New Review

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

Calico Dorsey

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

...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.

A Starred Review in Publishers Weekly

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.)