Stella's little bro...
He's quite the dare devil. Totally fearless. He started a the tippy top of huge ramp and then jumped through the fiery hoop of doom, and here his about to land. He's totally in the zone.
The original drawing is up for sale in the shop, as well as the colored prints.
Are we out of beans?
Do rainbows make good roars? I'm not sure, but I wanted some color on this cold, bleak, rainy day. Yes, Portland, it's finally here.
October!
I've been listening to the wind whip through the trees in my backyard. While the sun is still shining, and it hasn't rained for months, it definitely smells like fall and there's palpable anticipation in the air. Something in my bones is telling me to pull out a blanket and start a fire. Or maybe I'm just a little excited to dive back in to the creative wonderland, nestled amongst the moody clouds and drizzly northwest rain. With all these thoughts of winter swarming around, I started drawing this little guy. His name is Bernie, and he likes to be bundled up.
Something told me there were a few other folks feeling the same way, so I made some cards...and they're up in my shop if you want to send one to a friend!
Takin' it to the streets
Last night I braved the mayhem, commonly known as Last Thursday. For those that don't know Portland, it's a street fair held once a month on Alberta. They block off the streets to cars, and open them to anyone and everyone....be it your grandma selling her knitted caps for new borns, your neighbor who bakes fresh cookies, that guy on stilts and his tall-bike juggler friends....or a lonely illustrator.
The whole idea of setting up a little stand to sell some prints came about rather quickly, and I had completely neglected the need for some sort of display. Seems obvious enough, but when you're too close in, you forget the big picture. I was zoomed in with my nose up to the paper, checking every last detail of the print, but the print needs to be hung on something, and that something doesn't exist until you make it. This is not a gallery. This is a curb.
Luckily, I frequent places like The Rebuilding Center and my ultimate favorite, Salvage Works, so I have a pile of scrap wood that's always waiting to be scooped up and saddled down. I figured the simplest approach was to make an easel. One surface, three legs. It was all smooth until I got to the staple gun. Those buggers are dangerous. I can wield a hammer, a circular saw, a blow torch, you name it....but I got bit by a staple gun. You are never safe, and don't think for a minute it won't happen to you. Okay, I'll step down now...
So I set up my fancy new easel outside the lovely Townshend's. They make my favorite kombucha, or 'booch' for those that are down, and I figured it was a safe enough space to hunker down for the evening. While I know I missed things like the flame throwers, and hula hoopers, and the guy who makes wire paintings, and the girl who sells those super awesome wacky things, I had the pleasure of watching all the people pass by...and there's not much that can compete with that. A veritable feast for the eyes. And on top of that, watching someone stop in their tracks, amid all the chaos, and smile...pointing at Stella, trying her best to stay on that ball.
Stella's Dancing Sisters
These girls have serious moves. I can't wait to do this one in full color, so check back soon for the results! But until then keep reading for a childhood flashback caused by this drawing:
I lived in Germany for a few years when I was young and my mom enrolled me in ballet. I don't remember if I asked her to or not, but either way there I was, feeling totally awkward in a leotard and tights. Ballet uses French words for the various positions and moves, which meant that the teacher was either speaking French or German, and both were foreign to me. So I choose a spot at the front of the classroom, thinking that if I could be closer to the teacher I could absorb what she was doing more effectively. That seemed to work a little bit. I didn't feel completely incapable. But then at some point she assumed we all knew the poses based on verbal commands, and she started walking around while calling out commands. This meant that not only was I totally lost, I was also equally terrified that she would stop and attempt to correct my horrible posture one more time. She always left me with a look of dissatisfaction, but hey, she was German...and I was the clueless American. It was understandable. So the following week, I thought I had figured it out. I quietly picked a spot in the back of the classroom, hand gripped tightly on the barre, thinking I could get by unnoticed. Genius. I would just follow the other girls, and I'd be fine. But the nature of following other people, means that you're always one step behind. So all of sudden I'm facing a classroom of girls that are facing me. She had told everyone to turn around, and I hadn't understood. Bummer. Genius plan failed again. So I sheepishly turned around, but then I was stuck looking over my shoulder trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing with my silly arms and legs, all the while trying to avoid eye contact with the other girls. I hated ballet.*** Can we go climb trees now? I'm much better at that.
***I was not so scarred from this experience that I quit dancing all together. I still love dancing, just not formally. And I love people that can dance, and fully appreciate people that are able to express themselves with this beautiful art form. That's probably all my mom was hoping for anyways.
Put me in a box. I like it.
David Byrne, in an interview from McSweeney's regarding his book, How Music Works:
So, while a songwriter may write a whole album about how their girlfriend dumped them, the fact that they choose to convey that in three minute songs, with structures that are probably familiar, and using melodies and chord changes and sounds we find attractive or intriguing—well, a lot of our big creative decisions have already been made for us. That’s not to say the breakup didn’t fuel some part of the creative process—I’m just saying that most of what makes a piece of music sound the way it does has nothing to do with one’s personal life.
There are so many gems here, but only one I want to highlight: "...a lot of our big creative decisions have already been made for us."
We don't always notice the pre-existing parameters when we are creating or experiencing art. The boxes are invisible because they are so common. Or we just don't think about them, because we're too busy building within them and using the pieces provided for us. A vinyl record is a piece of plastic with grooves, a given number of inches in diameter and rotations per minute. Subsequently, a musician creates a body of work that fits within that landscape. A children's book is 32 pages, for technical and economic reasons, so an author/illustrator has to tell a story in 32 pages. These decisions are already made, and sure we can buck the system and insist upon creating an entirely new format, but the constraints are like a puzzle. How do I create an emotional arc that falls within these boundaries?
So here we go. It's storyboard time. Time to take the bits of paper around the studio, and the ideas swimming in my head and string them together into a beautiful, meaningful sequence that spans 32 pages.
A little peek...
My boyfriend followed me around yesterday, and then he made this amazing video. Pretty rad.
Painting on a Ladder
Stella's world is about to get a lot brighter.
Stella in color! Hang in there, girl.
I did a series of drawings of Stella trying her best to find her balance on top of this circus ball but this one was my favorite. Here, she's just lifted her trunk off the ground and is holding on tight to that moment: "Will I make it?' or 'Will I fall on my face?'
I couldn't resist taking it a step further with some color, and I'm pretty thrilled with how she came to life. Prints available soon. Original sketch too!
Sketch #1
Sketch #2
Sketch #3
Stella, what are you trying to say?!
Every song has a soul. You can dress it up however you like, or strip it down to it's barest bones. Understanding the essence and the core emotion is the key to finding the rest of the song. Stella was born to the pendulum rhythm of a 3/4 waltz. That was her foundation. Since then I've been carving out the details of her personality to see what she's all about.
There's a myriad of different styles or directions to go, but which one is the right one for this little elephant? Which one tells her story best? I don't have a personal style or a preferred medium, and no preconceived notion of what she should look like...so it's a discovery process. I'm just testing the waters.
I usually start with a pencil and some computer paper. I prefer this method to sketchbooks because I like to reorder pages and spread them out around me, take a step back to compare, or use one page as an underlay for the next evolution. This is where I find my flow. It's a blissful state of freedom and exploration, pencil moving quickly and fluidly, pausing to erase some lines and darken others. Finding the shape on the page, and pulling it out.
The pencil drawing has all this urgency and life. It is the remaining artifact from the moment when the idea first hit the page, so inherently, it's really exciting. But it's not done. It's still just a sketch. What does it look like when it's completed? Should I scan it? Go straight to the computer? There's so much safety in the digital world. So much control. I can resize, reshape, warp, and twist to my little heart's content. Or, should I keep working it by hand, tackle the risk and the excitement of the unknown. The answer is finding a balance, but that relationship can change for every project.
All this dribble is just to say that I don't know just yet how Stella will be completed, but there's a lot of really cool things that happen along the way. Stella is a journey, and in order to embrace this creative process, I've decided to open the doors of my studio and let a few peanut shells find a new home.
Find this illustration and a few others in my shop.
The Ranger Station
I built this little cabin in my backyard. Inspired by a lookout tower in the Mt. Hood National Forest, it functions as a fake escape fully equipped with a wood stove and kerosene lanterns.
We hosted a video blog shoot back in July for local Portland band, Harlowe and the Great North Woods. They were accompanied by fabulous photographer, and overall rad lady Kim Smith Miller. She took some incredible photos which can been seen on her blog, amongst other beauties.