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Adorable #GiveBooks illustration by the super talented Lisa Congdon.
I am super proud and excited to be a part of this campaign. What’s the deal, you ask? It’s as simple as that: #GiveBooks.
Pledge to promote literacy, support your local bookstore, and spread the joy of reading this holiday season. For each tweet, pin, pledge, and share, Chronicle Books will donate a book to a child in need through First Book. Can we help get them to a 10,000-book donation?! Take the pledge here.
I picked some favorites to kick off my own #GiveBooks season, and here’s the greatest thing: you can win this crazy beautiful stack. All of them. And even if you don’t, perhaps they will be a good start to your shopping list this year? Stay tuned to the end of this post for more details.
For now, the books:
1 // I chatted here with Lizi Boyd and am just head over heels over the way she views the world as one sublime story.
2 // Flora and the Flamingo won Chronicle’s first Caldecott, and this book is a fragile dance of friendship. It soars. Plus, Molly Idle is perhaps the most adorable illustrator that exists in this world, right?
3 // Remember when I wrote for Design Mom? This was the book that I first wrote about for her, so it’s got a mini-grip on my soul for starting such a fun celebration of picture books. And, that cover. Laura Leuck and Marc Boutavant spin a lovely dance here.
4 // Jeff Mack’s book lets even the littlest read along, both to its simple text and rich-in-story pictures. A favorite about friendship and looking on the bright side of things (even when you get chased out of a bear cave by a swarm of bees.)
5 // If you’ve not flipped through this one, you are missing not one great book, but a whole handful. Want to see the magic of books at work? Flip through this one. Jesse Klausmeier and Suzy Lee made a little masterpiece.
6 // These two. (Ivy and Bean.) Those two. (Annie Barrows and Sophie Blackall.) The perfection of this series is out of this world and the sweetest intimacy all at once. (Side note: When my editor at Chronicle first told me how much she loved my book, she said it felt like the type of book that Ivy and Bean would hold dear and spark one of their epic and messy adventures. There aren’t words for how much I love that thought.)
7 // Have you met Maggie yet? Megan Jean Sovern crafted one of the very best books of this year (or any of them, for that matter.) Just open this thing. Like yesterday. Honestly.
8 // Suzy Lee showed up a bit earlier, and here she is again. Shadow is light and dark and adventure and imagination. For curious minds everywhere, any age.
9 // This is one of those oh yes and hmm and whoa kind of books, from the design to the story and the spare to the rich. Germano Zullo and Albertine are one genius duo, much like the dueling neighbors at the heart of this tale.
10 // Well, Josephine. What a way to wrap up this bunch, right? Patricia Hruby Powell is the rhythm and Christian Robinson is the tone and the whole thing is the loveliest book of 2014. Truly.
A good stack, right? And here’s how you can win them, thanks to the fine folks at Chronicle Books. In February, the sweetest little Valentine is arriving: I’m going to be an aunt! Tell me: what is your top pick for a baby’s first bookshelf? I’ll pick a random commenter a little bit into December, and this haul will be on its way to you.
Want even more great news? From now until the end of the year, Chronicle is offering you 30% offandfree ground shipping (excluding personalized products) at chroniclebooks.com from now through the end of the year. Just use this offer code: GIVEBOOKS.
This Art Crush entry has truly been a long time coming. I first came across Lisa Congdon by way of Meighan O’Toole’s former art blog and podcast, My Love For You (which is post-worthy in its own right–it was an enormous source of inspiration for me during my college years). While I definitely gravitated to Lisa’s work on a visual level, it was her personal story that drew me in. Freelance illustration had been her second career. She didn’t start painting or making art until she was 31, and here she was, participating in museum-level shows, working with clients like Chronicle Books, and just being a genuine, successful badass. Lisa is not only someone I look up to artistically–she’s also a prime example of a human being.
Lisa’s art career was secondary, after she accumulated over a decade of experience in the education and nonprofit industries. By pure chance, she stumbled into a painting class and began making art of all kinds from that day forward–fueled by pure joy instead of the desire to succeed quickly. Having always been an avid collector, her random ephemera would find their way into countless collages as well as a series of photos, drawings and paintings that would eventually make up her A Collection A Day project. As she continued to develop her craft and share it with the ever-expanding Internet, people began to catch on. Today, she is an accomplished and prolific working artist, blogger, illustrator, public speaker and writer. Some of her most notable clients to date include The Land of Nod, The Museum of Modern Art, Harper Collins, 826 Valencia and Martha Stewart Living Magazine.
Lisa unabashedly tackles the subjects she is most passionate about, and that fearlessness is expressed effortlessly in the execution of her work. She describes herself as a “visual junkie,” and is deeply inspired by patterns, travel, architecture and vintage packaging, just to name a few. A faithful blogger, Lisa writes about her own process in addition to other artists whom she admires, as well as her life “outside the studio,” which includes swimming, biking, sewing, and traveling. In other words, she’s just making all of us look bad! (I only kid.)
One of the reasons I relate to Lisa’s work is due to the versatility and ever-evolving nature of her aesthetic. Certain characteristics like neon hues and her penchant for all things Scandinavian are mainstays, but she continues to branch out and explore all kinds of mediums (block printing and calligraphy, to name a few). These explorations fuel her work and expand her direction, which is most recently geared towards abstract painting. She’s a wonderful example of why you don’t need to narrow yourself down to one specific style (something I often grapple with).
Lisa is quite a unique artist in that she is not only a creator, but a mentor as well. Breaking into freelance illustration can be a challenging and solitary undertaking, and she continues to give her generous time to those who wish to pursue and learn more about the field through classes, speaking engagements and conferences around the country. I first met Lisa at her first Freelance Illustration class at Makeshift Society back in December 2012, and it was one of my most pivotal learning experiences to date.
Lisa recently released her new book, “Art, Inc.: The Essential Guide for Building Your Career as an Artist,” which is a revolutionary and timely answer to the starving artist stereotype. It covers all areas of the freelance artist’s domain, such as photographing fine art, finding printing services, copyright, and diversifying income. It sits on the shelf above my working desk (I like to call it my “VIP” shelf) as I reference it constantly.
On that same note, I’m very excited to be taking Lisa’s “Become A Working Artist” class through CreativeLive next week! You can follow along with the class virtually by RSVPing here.
To listen to Meighan’s podcast with Lisa, click here. I also highly recommend her feature in The Great Discontent.
The Basic Line Drawing class at Creativebug led me to the blog of its instructor, illustrator Lisa Congdon. Lisa and her work have galvanized our artistic pursuits around here, especially Rilla’s and mine. Something she said in one of her videos really grabbed me: a while back, she decided she needed to improve her hand-lettering skills and decided to practice lettering every day for a year. Now her illustrated quote prints seem to be among her most popular creations. Her work is quite wonderful, and I love the idea that an already accomplished artist challenged herself to develop new talents by committing to practice every day for a year. This ties in perfectly to the habits posts I’ve been working on. Daily practice, even if some days what you produce falls flat.
Just like the actor who yearns to be in a band, I’m a writer who wishes I could draw. Draw really well, I mean. I have so many artist friends whose work knocks my socks off. Watching them at work—oh, that’s the best, witnessing their command of line, the rapid unfolding of story on the page. My own work is so internal. All the color and life it possesses comes from within, from a store of words, ideas, memories, experiences—like Frederick the Mouse in winter, calling up the colors and stories and sun-warmth he stored away during the rich seasons. I love this process, I wouldn’t be me without it; but there are times I yearn to grab those colors and pour them directly onto the page without having to first simmer them in the crucible of my own mind for so long.
Not that I don’t think visual artists transfigure experience in crucibles of their own—I don’t mean that at all, and perhaps my metaphor is running away from me. What I mean is, there can be an immediacy in drawing and painting—you see it, you sketch it, you have it—that is wholly unlike the way writing happens for me. I suppose the place I find immediacy in writing is right here, on the blog, where, as I’ve said, I try to write more rapidly, in what I’ve come to think of as a kind of mental freehand. And the thing I love about drawing, clumsy as my skills are, is that the words part of my mind is actually silenced for a time. I think drawing may be the only thing I do where that is the case. I think in words, I see them scrolling across the screen of my mind always, always—when you speak to me, I see the transcript of our conversation. While things are happening, I’m searching for the words to recount the experience—it happens automatically, I can’t not do it. I first became aware of it on a plane headed for Germany when I was fourteen years old. I was frustrated that I couldn’t just be IN that moment, living it—I was already writing it up in my head.
I remember once telling another writer friend, as she described a similar experience: Oh, you’re like me, you think in narrative. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a mind that doesn’t work this way—except for those brief flashes of silence that come while I’m sketching. And yet I’ll go years without drawing. My skills are elementary (I can go a bit beyond the stick figures I was joking about the other day, but not far) but I know that, like all skills, regular practice would improve them. And so (to come back to my point at last) I was charmed by Lisa Congdon’s determination to hone an aspect of her work by doggedly doing it every day for a year. It’s a simple and even obvious notion, but how rarely such persistence occurs to us! Or occurs in practice, even after we’ve made the resolution.
And then a few days ago Lisa interviewed another visual artist on her blog (delightfully named Today Is Going to Be Awesome). Jennifer Orkin Lewis is a freelance illustrator living in New York City, and her work is lovely, lovely. I was instantly smitten. I learned in Lisa’s interview that in April 2013, Jennifer decided to paint in her sketchbook every day for a month—which turned into painting in her sketchbook every day, period.
…I decided to do a painting a day for the month. I didn’t put any restrictions on myself and I ended up spending hours each day on them. I finished out the month, but it was stressful. In May I did it again but my rules were that I would limit it to 1 hour and I would only paint food. I finished that challenge as well but I felt too tied down to that theme and I didn’t experiment enough. I picked up the sketchbook I’m using now last October and I started painting in it. Something clicked and I really liked how the paint went onto the paper, its size, the fact that it wasn’t a gorgeous sketchbook. I kept painting in it so when January came it just flowed that this would be my daily project. I decided to post them all on Instagram to hold myself accountable to painting everyday.
When I went to Jennifer’s Instagram account (@augustwren), I was blown away. I think what I like best is that she posts a snapshot of the day’s painting alongside the paints and brushes she used to make it.
Kotor Montenegro by Jennifer Orkin Lewis. Image source: Instagram.
“I’m in Venice, these are some things I saw in shop windows.” Image source: Instagram.
Scottish Sheep by Jennifer Orkin Lewis. Image source: Instagram.
“I’ve never really thought of myself as particularly disciplined, so I have surprised myself. I have loads of 1/2 finished sketchbooks on my shelves. A great result from the practice is I now have hundreds of pages of personal reference material. I’ve gone into it to look for color combinations for projects, for the shape of a flower, a technique.”
Please do click through to read the whole interview—it’s fascinating. Jennifer now works on these paintings for 30 minutes each. 30 minutes a day for over a year. She posts the finished pieces on her website, and the range is quite breathtaking.
One of the many spreads Jennifer has shared on her blog. Click the image to visit her whole sketchbook. Image source: augustwren.com/category/sketchbook/
The obvious conclusion to this post is a resolution to work in my art journal every day for a year, but do you know, I’m terrified to make such an avowal? I always feel like announcing a plan on the blog is a surefire way to stall it. So no public declarations. Just a tiny, quiet—resolve is too binding a word. A notion. A hope. Last night after the boys were in bed, while Scott and the girls were watching a movie, Rilla and I worked in our journals. We used the Lisa Congdon piece at the top of this page as our inspiration. I’ve got Lisa’s 20 Ways to Draw a Tulip book and right now I’m in the copying stage, just trying to improve my own command of line. Got a long way to go. I added a fern to my sketch, though, figured it out all by myself using photo reference, and I’m pleased as punch with it (while simultaneously nitpicking its flaws). My writerly affection for circular structure demands its inclusion at the end of this post, but you that terrifies me too! Well, I once posted a story I wrote when I was five years old. My mother saved it for me and now I look at the fledging handwriting and nonsensical dialogue (“We will have to take care of it. If we don’t it will die.” “OK. Let’s go to the store and buy a big Ice-Cream.”) with real affection. Maybe in a year or ten I can feel the same way about this.
A different kind of copywork. Rilla likes to work in miniature and I like to eat up the page.
Famous Men of Rome. Rilla’s first time. Rose and Beanie are listening in—they know these stories well and enjoy them, and it’s amusing to them to watch Rilla encounter them for the first time. She’s doing a lot of narration afterward, mostly at dinner in the guise of “tell Daddy all about Romulus and Remus.” Sometimes during or after a chapter, I use the whiteboard to help her remember names.
Whiteboards in general. You guys, I use them for EVERYTHING. A million years ago I made the brilliant move of buying a whole bunch of scratch-and-dent markerboards for a song. The larger size are perfect as painting boards, underneath our paper—they wipe up easily and can be moved elsewhere while the masterpieces dry. We also use the big ones for things we’re trying to learn by heart. Presidents and their terms, British monarch family trees, and so forth. The smaller ones fit handily beside my chair and are great for our Latin lessons. I’ll write out a sentence and let them parse it. Meanwhile, Huck is keeping himself busy nearby with another markerboard and my best dry-erase pens.
Horrible Histories Kings and Queens of England sing-along. Penny!!! I can’t thank you enough for mentioning this a while back when I wrote about using Memrise to learn British monarchs. This video—all the HH videos—delightful. Hilarious. We’ve been watching this one every morning for two weeks and today we got through the entire song without a hitch. I wish you could hear Huck imitate baby Henry VI. (Wah!) Spot on.
Charles II is my favorite.
Creativebug. The other day I happened upon this rather amazing site. It offers video tutorials in a zillion artsy and crafty pursuits, everything from embroidery to cake decorating. I signed up for a free two-week trial subscription, and if you’re my friend on Facebook you know I’ve been having a whale of a time. Rilla and I have already devoured illustrator Lisa Congdon’s Basic Line Drawing course, and we’re three-quarters of the way through Dawn Devries Sokol’s Art Journaling class. We have Art on our schedule twice a week after lunch, but that’s not been nearly enough to accommodate the creative outpourings inspired by our Creativebug explorations. I’m finding the Lisa Congdon class has been particularly inspirational and instructive, spurring me to do a bit of sketching when I hit a snag in writing. Sometimes my other jobs—raising kids, educating them, managing a household, editing—plant me pretty solidly in my left brain and I need a right-brain pursuit like drawing (even though I’m no visual artist, as the whiteboard above attests*) to exercise my creative muscles. I’m enjoying, too, painting backgrounds in the art journal and returning to them later to practice line drawing. Rose plans to watch all the cake decorating videos. Beanie’s interested in the embroidery. Right now Creativebug is offering a whole MONTH of free trial (use promo code “CRAFT,” good through Sept. 14, and thanks Kortney for the heads up on that!), so if your interest is piqued, now’s the time to give it a try. After the trial, a subscription is $9.95/month for unlimited courses, or $9.95 to buy individual courses that you can access forever.
*In my defense, I did draw a lot of it upside down.
20 Ways to Draw a Tulip. Lisa Congdon mentioned this book of hers during her line drawing tutorial. I’m in love with it. It’s tulips and 44 other flowers. Twenty ways to draw each of them, from simple-and-sweet to highly detailed to stylized and folk-arty. Wonderful, wonderful, out of all hooping.
And guess what’s back. ModPo!!! The best Coursera class I’ve taken, and I’ve taken some darn good ones. Modern and Contemporary Poetry with Al Filreis and his MFA students at University of Pennsylvania. Last year I watched about 75% of the videos. This year I’m hoping to tune into the entire course, but listen, even if you only manage a single video all semester, you’ve gained something. The discussions are engaging, thoughtful, and lively. My highest recommendation.
Best of all: Wisteria and Sunshine, Lesley Austin’s lovely membership site, has reopened its doors. There’s nothing else like it on the web. Lesley’s posts and pictures are nourishment for the soul, and I always come away with something to ponder, something to act on, something to cherish—just like in the Charlotte Mason motto about how a child should always have Something to Love, Something to Think About, and Something to Do.
Amy Novesky is the author of Elephant Prince;Me, Frida and most recently Georgia in Hawaii. A former editor at Chronicle Books, Novesky brings years of experience to her work as both a children’s book editor and author. She teaches writing workshops to aspiring authors and is co-founder of Ever After Studio, a children’s book production company and the creative director of Paper Hat Press, a company that creates customizable children’s book and keepsakes. She discussed her research on Georgia O’Keeffe (in Hawaii) and Billie Holiday and Imogen Cunningham for her forthcoming books Mister and Lady Day and Imogen.
Nicki Richesin: Congratulations on the publication of Georgia in Hawaii! When I think of Georgia O’Keeffe, I tend to think of her hiking on Ghost Ranch. What inspired you to tell this story of her trip to Hawaii?
Amy Novesky: I think most people think of Georgia that way, and there are some beautiful picture books that tell that story. But few people know that Georgia painted in Hawaii, and that’s exactly why I wrote this book. Imagine this painter famous for painting flowers and landscapes, painting in the most beautiful flower-filled landscape of all. I also wrote this book because I have a connection to Hawaii, and if there was any Georgia book I was going to write, it was this one.
NR: March is Women’s History Month and you have published wonderful books on truly remarkable women like Frida Kahlo and Georgia O’Keeffe and even more coming soon. What do you look for in a person’s life to make you want to tell his or her story and how do you find the hook that will appeal to a broad audience of readers?
AN: Most stories start with the art. I am drawn to the art. Often, though, I’m drawn as much, if not more, to the artist. For example, I knew I wanted to write stories about both Frida Kahlo and Billie Holiday, but with each I didn’t want to tell the typical narrative. And then, too, especially with Frida and Billie, I had the added challenge of finding a story that was kid-friendly, given how tragic both of their lives were. (Frida had polio as a child and was in a horrific accident as a young adult; Billie was a child prostitute an
San Francisco based artist and illustrator Lisa Congdon has always been fascinated with with collecting, arranging, and organizing her collections. On January 1, 2010, Lisa took it upon herself to photograph, draw, and occasionally paint these collections for the entire year, and thus, the Collection a Day 2010 project was born.
Documenting objects ranging from vintage books and matchbox labels to colorful bits and bobbles, each collection is well curated and carefully composed. Recently, Uppercase announced that these incredible collections will be made into a book, available Spring 2011.
The Collection a Day, 2010 book is available for pre-order via the Collection a Day, 2010blog as well as Uppercase’s site. To see more images from the collection, visit the Collection a Day, 2010 blog. Be sure to also check out Lisa’s site to see her artwork and illustrations. Better yet, if you’re in San Francisco, stop her shop Rare Device, which sells amazing stationary, artwork, and other nibbles and goodies.
So no public declarations. Just a tiny, quiet—resolve is too binding a word. A notion. A hope. Last night after the boys were in bed, while Scott and the girls were watching a movie, Rilla and I worked in our journals. We used the Lisa Congdon piece at the top of this page as our inspiration. I’ve got Lisa’s 
