Picture It

Observations, Inspiration and Lessons about Illustration Art

In Other Words, Illustrating = Writing with Pictures

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For years, I've accepted the analogy that illustrating is writing with pictures. It's not surprising then, that I find the observations and advice of writers so relevant to my work and my teaching. A simple translation from the literal references to the visual, is all it takes.

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Narrative art must be clear, but it must also be mysterious. Something should remain unsaid, something just beyond our understanding, a secret. If it's only clear, it's kitsch; if it's only mysterious (a much easier path), it's condescending and pretentious and soon monotonous. -Stephen Sondheim
In other Words
Narrative art must be clear, but it must also be mysterious. Something should remain unshown, something just beyond our understanding, a secret. If it's only clear, it's kitsch; if it's only mysterious (a much easier path), it's condescending and pretentious and soon monotonous.

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Be ruthless about protecting writing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have "essential" and "long overdue" meetings on those days. The funny thing is that, although writing has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it. Some people do not seem to grasp that I still have to sit down in peace and write the books, apparently believing that they pop up like mushrooms without my connivance. I must therefore guard the time allotted to writing as a Hungarian Horntail guards its firstborn egg. -J.K. Rowling
In Other Words
Be ruthless about protecting drawing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have "essential" and "long overdue" meetings on those days. The funny thing is that, although illustrating has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it. Some people do not seem to grasp that I still have to sit down in peace and create the pictures, apparently believing that they pop up like mushrooms without my connivance. I must therefore guard the time allotted to drawing as a Hungarian Horntail guards its firstborn egg.

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Nice writing isn't enough. It isn't enough to have smooth and pretty language. You have to surprise the reader frequently, you can't just be nice all the time. Provoke the reader. Astonish the reader. Writing that has no surprises is as bland as oatmeal. Surprise the reader with the unexpected verb or adjective. Use one startling adjective per page. -Anne Bernays
In Other Words
Nice drawing and painting aren't enough. It isn't enough to have smooth and pretty pictures. You have to surprise the viewer frequently, you can't just be nice all the time. Provoke the viewer. Astonish the viewer. Images that have no surprises are as bland as oatmeal. Surprise the viewer with the unexpected situation or depiction. Use one startling detail per image.

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It’s too disturbing to read a writer with a good style when you’re in the middle of putting your work together. It’s very much like taking your car apart and having all the pieces on the floor when somebody rides by in a Ferrari. Now, you may hear a note in the Ferrari that isn’t good and say, That motor needs a little tuning. But nonetheless the car is there and yours is on the floor. So while I’m working on a book, I rarely read more than The New York Times. -Norman Mailer
in Other Words
It’s too disturbing to see an artist with a good style when you’re in the middle of putting your work together. It’s very much like taking your car apart and having all the pieces on the floor when somebody rides by in a Ferrari. Now, you may hear a note in the Ferrari that isn’t good and say, That motor needs a little tuning. But nonetheless the car is there and yours is on the floor. So while I’m working on a picture, I rarely look at more than The New York Times.

Further Observation
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These illustrations are by the late-great Saul Steinberg. In this series, Steinberg draws variations on a theme: playing with the stationery of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, while serving as the institution's first and only artist-in-residence in 1967. 

Quotes used are from the inspiring blog Advicetowriters.com.

Lessons: Even Cavemen Used Reference

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One of the most important lessons that I teach my students in introductory illustration courses is to dispel their belief that illustrators always draw everything from their heads. They don't. Illustrators imagine from their heads, but they draw most often from observation. That's because visual communication is dependent on recognition. Viewers need to recognize what an artist is depicting literally and conceptually. Working from reference, be it from photographs, film stills or directly from life itself, is crucial for linking a viewers visual memory ("I know what that is!") to a concept ("I know what you mean!").  Even imagined creatures and places are dependent on reference for their success because viewers understand things by what they have seen before, and in their own lives. Viewers must recognize what is being presented to them in order to "get" what an illustrator or artist is saying.


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Not long ago, in the New York Times, I learned of a report in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that settled an old argument regarding some 25,000 year old cave paintings in southern France. The question was, are the spotted horses, painted in those caves imaginary? For years, scientist thought they were. Now, due to modern DNA testing of found horse bones and teeth, we learn that contrary to belief, there were indeed spotted horses at the time. 

From the article: "Terry O’Connor, an archaeologist at the University of York who collaborated on the study, said spotted horses in particular had been used to argue that cave art was more symbolic than realistic, and that as a result the finding could cause a stir. But now it is clear that some horses had a gene for that coat color. “People drew spotty horses,” he said, “because they saw spotty horses.”

So, in the end, even cavemen used reference! They found wonder from the world that they lived in, and interpreted it through their paintings. Their highly stylized works are made more meaningful to us by being recognized after all these years! We see what they saw and our eyes are opened by that recognition.

Further Observation

In the new biography of the painter Carravaggio by Andrew Graham-Dixon it is mentioned that at one point in his turbulent life, the artist was evicted from his residence and a list of his possessions was made by the authorities. Among the items was a set of eagle wings.
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Public Taste

"Criticism may be made that some (of our posters) are too sophisticated for general circulation."

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"Fortune (Magazine) feels that danger lies in the direction of underestimating rather than overestimating the public taste." -A Portfolio of Posters, Fortune Magazine, August 1941

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Famous Illustrators: Edouard Manet

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In 1875, Edgar Allen Poe's the Raven was translated by Stephane Mallarme and illustrated by his friend, Edouard Manet. The artist was forty-three years old at the time and a very well known painter. However, only 240 copies of the elegantly produced book were printed and sold at a price of 25 francs each. 

In anticipation of Halloween, I present the poem and its illustrations.

 

The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - 

Only this, and nothing more." 

 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow 

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - 

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore - 

Nameless here for evermore. 

 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; 

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, 

"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - 

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - 

This it is, and nothing more." 

 

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 

That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; - 

Darkness there, and nothing more. 

 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; 

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" 

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" - 

Merely this, and nothing more.

 

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Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: 

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - 

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 

'Tis the wind and nothing more." 

 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; 

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; 

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - 

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - 

Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. 

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, 

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore - 

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 

Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 

Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door - 

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 

With such name as "Nevermore." 

 

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But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 

Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered - 

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before - 

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." 

Then the bird said, "Nevermore." 

 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, 

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster 

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - 

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 

Of 'Never - nevermore'." 

 

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; 

Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - 

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore 

Meant in croaking "Nevermore." 

 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; 

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, 

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, 

She shall press, ah, nevermore! 

 

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer 

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee 

Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore:

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

 

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"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - 

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - 

On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore - 

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil! 

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - 

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore - 

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

 

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting - 

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! 

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! 

Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door! 

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; 

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 

And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 

Shall be lifted - nevermore

 

 

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Illustration is Moving

It's the dawn of a new academic year and I'm witnessing first hand, a paradigm shift in the world of illustration art. Not a sudden change, but a definitive change nonetheless.

For me, 2011 has been a transitional year. Last spring, three students created moving pictures for an assignment given in an introductory illustration class. Just last week, one of my former students, the Google "Doodler" Jennifer Hom created a moving picture solution for Google's splash page honoring Freddie Mercury, the deceased singer for the rock group, Queen. In all of these instances, the creators considered themselves to be illustrators who happened to be making a picture that not only communicates, but moves and has sound. These young illustrators are evidence of a new, widening definition of illustration, blurring the line with animation.

Sure, illustration and animation have overlapped before, especially on an individual level; R. O. Bleckman is an illustrator who has run an animation studio called Ink Tank, for a long time. Illustrated works have been "animated" before, too, such as Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Illustrators have worked in animation studios for years, but their titles were never "illustrator." 

Illustrators have witnessed many changes to their profession in the past generation -all digital: the invention of digitally created art, the change to digital delivery of art and the publishing of art in digital formats. Now, due to digital capabilities, an illustration need no longer be still and may be desired or required to move more and more often. After all, the newest venues for visuals are interactive: computers, tablets, and handheld devices such as phones and games. 

This is not a crisis for most of my young students however; they're of an age that sees no strong distinction between moving and non-moving images. They effortlessly define them as illustration... or at least something that an illustrator can create. Lately, the Society of Illustrators, host of one the more respected annual juried shows of illustration, has included an animated picture category called "Moving Images". Their annual student scholarship competition includes animation now, too.

Animation grew out of illustration and perhaps they're growing together again. 

Further Observation

Here are the moving picture illustrations created for my Illustration Concepts 2 class. The assignment is called 200 Steps. Students were given an open-ended assignment which had geographic rather than conceptual limitation. That is, the work had to relate to something or someplace within 200 steps of our school building. The goal was to transcend the limitations.

By Yudi Chen, who is clearly distracted by skateboarders below her drawing class's window and dreams of a alternative scenario.

By Sierra Urich, who's stop motion animation depicts a sweet, Spring stroll on the walkway below our classroom.

By Hannah Katz, whom we follow up the Illustration Department building's stairway on a fantastic trip. Hannah passes by all of her classmates and makes references to the signature projects of each.