A Drawing a Day

As you might expect, adjusting to life with a newborn hasn't been easy. Amidst all the joyful cooing and smiles, there are teary meltdowns and wakeful nights. At first I thought I would never be able to draw or write again. But as Little M grows, week by week, I'm finding that we're feeling more comfortable with each other and our new routines. 

As an effort to nourish all the creative facets of my soul, I'm trying to draw something every day. Even the smallest sketch, or the action of picking up my pencil, makes me feel more whole. 

I've been posting each tiny sketch on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter and the words of encouragement from all my followers are giving me the courage to continue. If I can... if I'm brave enough... I want to challenge myself to post a drawing every day this year. 

Do you think I can? 

A Day in the Life of a Children's Book Illustrator

I thought it would be fun to share a typical day in my life as an illustrator.  Right now we're in Cape Town, but my routine rarely changes whether I'm here, in London or in Canada. It's just the scenery that changes.  

7am: Wake up. Stumble bleary eyed into the blinding sunshine in the kitchen. Pour a glass of cold orange juice and will myself to wake up. 

I wish I started my morning by reading something erudite, or meditating, but I usually end up checking Facebook...

8am: I walk down the hill to the post office to send off the most recent order from my Etsy shop.

Luckily it isn't far to go.  It's already so hot that I make sure to find all the patches of shade on the way there and back. 

This is the view I see on my way back up the hill.  Our house is the one with the brown door in the garden wall.  The frangipanis (also called plumeria) are blooming so beautifully this time of year. There's a wisp of a Table Cloth on top of Table Mountain. That means it's going to be a hot and windy day. 

8:30am: On my way back from the post office I like to stop by Vida e Caffe for a cappuccino.  Vida is a local coffee chain with a wacky, energetic feel. I love how they decorate their paper cups.  Which moustache are you?  I also love that they give a square of dark chocolate with every coffee order. I'll save mine for later.... 

{Coffee on the studio table and ready to work}

9am: I'm already hard at work and listening toBBC Radio 3 online. I love how the classical music gives a sense of order to my crazy imagination.

Right now I'm working on a big book project for Magination Press (a job I got through my agents at Advocate Art). The deadline is fast approaching, so there's no time to spare.

When I'm painting I go into a zen state. I focus. I breathe deeply. I concentrate on the colours and patterns unfolding under my hands.

Any work I do in the morning is like double work. It's that magical time of day when my ideas flow and time seems to cooperate with me.

10am: I find myself googling things like "chalkboard brushes" and "monarch butterflies" to look for references for my current project. I also spend a bit of time trying to win a game of solitaire while my paint dries.

{This is how illustrators do their hair... with a paintbrush.}

{Dive into the colour!}

12 noon:  Noon Gun!  Boom! You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I always jump.  The noon gun has been marking midday in Cape Town since 1806.  It's loud; it echos between the mountains; sometimes I spill paint...

It wakes me from my painting reverie and I remember that I should eat lunch.  Wait a second, did I even eat breakfast?  (Usually not). I make beeline to the fridge and graze from last night's leftovers.

12:30pm: Back to the drawing board. Literally. By now I'm starting to lose concentration.

In the afternoon I often focus on smaller projects, or work on scanning or photoshopping illustrations I'd started the day before.

If I don't have pressing illustration work, I'll write blog posts, or brainstorm ideas for new projects.

....Oh dear, my eyes are drooping.

2pm: Time for that square of dark chocolate.  Thank-you Vida! 

3pm: Unless I have a super-stressful deadline, this is the end of my work day.  I take a long bath, to ease my aching muscles.  You wouldn't think working as an artist would be that strenuous, but hunching over paintings can make my shoulders so tight!

After my bath, I unfurl my back muscles with a short session of yoga.

3:30pm: I rush to the grocery store (aptly named "Pick and Pay," I laugh every time I think about it) and figure out what to make for dinner. Sometimes I pop into the bookstore for a little inspiration, or grab another coffee.

4pm: Skype time with my Mom in Canada!  She's finally awake and I can tell her all about my day.  

6pm onwards: I make supper, and my husband and I settle in for a relaxing evening. Sometimes we have a glass of wine; sometimes we watch a dvd; sometimes we read; sometimes we escape the heat and head to the seaside.

10pm: Time to curl up in bed and close my eyes. Tomorrow will be the same, all over again! 

Here's a one minute video I made of me painting... Enjoy! 

Swooning in the Cape Town heat {a little animation}

{Swoon!}

It's summer in Cape Town, and it's so hot.

So, so, so hot.

The noon gun has just fired (as it does every day). The air is so still that the reverberations from the blast have shaken the frangipani flowers from their branches, and now they're wafting down in front of my window. Across the street someone is playing sultry saxophone.

If I slouch in my chair (as I often do), I can see the top of Table Mountain peeking above the roof of our house.  It's shimmering in the heat today.

It's so hot that I think the paint is melting on my palette before I can even get my brush into it.

The heat always brings out the diva in my characters; they always seem to have minds of their own. This little girl was frustrated that I wasn't paying enough attention to her heat-induced swoon, so now she's swooning over and over and over again.  Ad infinitum.  

The grass is always greener on the other side isn't it?  I envy all you readers who are cozily cocooned in  winter.  Oh!  For the snow and the hot chocolates and the great big fuzzy scarves.  Enjoy it while you can!

{Note #1: I posted this little girl last year, but as I have so many new followers, I thought some of you might enjoy seeing her brought back to life)

{Note #2:  I'm not sure if the animated illustration works for email subscribers, so you might want to click through to the blog to see it.}

Being Inspired and Playing with Sketches

{Queen Elizabeth and her people}

One of my favourite things to do on a Saturday afternoon is go to an art gallery and sketch from the great masters.  A few weeks ago, I went to the

Elizabeth I and her People

 exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London with my dear friend

Ayla Lepine

. 

I had so much fun sketching Queen Elizabeth I and all her courtesans and contemporaries. There were so many hats!  So many outlandish costumes!  I decided to challenge myself, so I worked into the sketches with ink wash (which, unbelievably, I've never done before). I really loved the warm tones the sepia wash gives the sketches. 

Which made me wonder... why had I never tried it before?

This reminded me of how important it is to keep growing as a creative person.  I may spend every minute of my day drawing and painting, but it can still be too easy to fall into routines. I have a habit of reaching for the same art supplies every day.  

A year ago I was contacted by Whitney Sherman to contribute to her book

Playing with Sketches

.  She had been searching the blogosphere looking for innovative sketchbooks, and appreciated the way I regularly draw in museums, being inspired by the old masters.  

So much so that I've even written a children's book all about it! 

Playing with Sketches

 is a book with 50 creative exercises, grouped by difficulty and theme, designed to help you grow as an artist.  The exercises include word games, dimensional shapes, and inventive sketchbooks and letterforms, eventually creating a “toolkit” of ideas and skills developed through the process of play.

What's really great is that each exercise is illustrated with examples from real sketchbooks by real artists.  Whitney Sherman contacted artists and bloggers from around the world to feature in her book. She included their website or blog details, so if one particular exercise or artist really inspires you, you can hop online and check out more of their work. 

I'm featured in the section on drawing from the old masters.  

What kinds of things do you do to keep your creative fires burning?  How do you make sure you don't get mired in stagnant waters, but keep the river of ideas flowing freely?  I'd love to know! 

{A collection of left hands from the National Gallery, London}

{Here's the page I'm featured on!}

The sun will keep on rising and setting

{Full Moon - Camps Bay, Cape Town}

Just a little note to say: 

- I arrived home, acquired a vicious head cold, and immediately dove head-first into work towards some looming deadlines. 

- I'm resolving to do more landscape sketching/painting, and this is the fruits of my first effort. Yesterday the full moon was spectacular, inspiring, uplifting.  

-  The moon always reminds me to breathe deeply.  The world is bigger than we imagine, much bigger. There are possibilities of all description beyond our reckoning. When we're worrying about our little patch of earth (our careers, families, etc), sometimes a larger perspective is important.  As Anne of Green Gables said, "The sun will keep on rising or setting, whether I fail geometry or not."  

'Til next week!  

Oh, and I'd love to see you over on

Facebook

or

Twitter

.  Come say hello!  

Looking through old sketchbooks

I used to do a lot more sketching than I'm doing now.  Yesterday, I was sitting in Johannesburg airport, bored out of my tree, and I started drawing.  I drew whatever I saw: the strange space-station-style architecture, the flat horizon, the huge thunderclouds.  And as I was drawing, I remembered how much I love it. It was like meeting an old friend, and realizing when you see their face how much you've missed them.  

I don't draw, really draw, nearly enough any more.  There always seems to be something else to do, even painting can get in the way. (because we all know that painting isn't really drawing)  

Yes, I'm an artist, and I don't draw every day.  It sounds terrible to admit it. 

This afternoon I had to open up the storage box that held all my old sketchbooks.  There was a client in the States who wanted a scan of a sketch I'd done at a Leonardo da Vinci exhibition a few years ago.  I didn't know exactly which book it was in, so I had to thumb through all of them.  

I hardly wanted to look; I wanted to cover my eyes and only peak through my fingers.  Sometimes I don't want to see my old illustrations, because I'm not happy with them.  Wouldn't the sketches be even worse? 

But I've decided that the only way to move forward is to be vulnerable. So I looked...

...And guess what!  I loved those old sketchbooks!  I loved how much I was experimenting; trying to figure out how to see the world on paper.  I loved that I made mistakes, and then drew more to figure out why something worked or didn't work. I loved how I could see the progression in my style and confidence.  

How do you feel about old work?  

I've posted both of these sketches on this blog before, but I thought I'd share them again.  

Here is one of the sketches of Joburg airport.

Those were the days

I'm having one of those "Anywhere-but-here" days.  You know the ones.  When things suddenly pile up and it feels like it might be easier to escape rather than face the immense to-do lists.

A lot of times when this happens I imagine myself escaping to somewhere I've never been.  Shall we follow Gauguin to Tahiti?

But this time I decided to imagine myself in a place I've been before; someplace where I was really happy.  I scanned through my travel pictures, and hit upon Tuscany.  Our time in Italy was filled with autumnal sunshine, wine, olive oil, and lots and lots of happiness.  (That's where we got engaged, after all!)

So here we are, an antidote to the to-do lists: a sketch of the many towers in San Gimignano, Tuscany.

What do you do, when you feel the to-do lists towering over your head?  I'd like to know!  

Adventures in.... Zimbabwe and Victoria Falls

So, here I am in bed with some sort of tropical fever; at least, I have a fever which I acquired in the sub-tropics.  It's actually just some sort of pesky ear/nose/throat infection, but it sounds much more dramatic to call it a Zimbabwean Fever, don't you think?  It was well worth it as I got to see the largest waterfall in the world: Victoria Falls on the Zimbabwean and Zambian borders.

I resolved on this trip that I was going to keep a travel sketchbook.  As much as I love sketching on location, I often find it difficult to achieve on holidays because I'm always rushing around trying to "see" everything, so I don't take the time to stop to draw.

This trip was different... there isn't much to see in the small town of Victoria Falls, except (you guessed it) Victoria Falls.  There is one mostly paved road with a bank, a few tourist shops, a grocery store and a police station; then there are several amazing four star resort hotels, and the Falls.  And all of this is surrounded by impenetrable bush.  So, there wasn't much else to do but stare at the falls and sketch, which suited me just fine.

So here we are, a few sketches of "The Smoke That Thunders" and the mighty Zambezi River.  Aren't hippos cute?  Don't be fooled!  Which animal kills more people than any other in the world (aside from mosquitos?)  Hippos!  They're the most dangerous vegetarians in the world.  Which is a shame, as they look so cuddly and cute.

And now, back to bed, so that I can recover from the Zimbabwe Fever before Christmas.

The Diamond Jubilee in pictures

This weekend I was privileged to be in London while Queen Elizabeth was celebrating her Diamond Jubilee weekend. It seems to me that the whole nation has gathered together in a rare atmosphere of complete joy.

Every street is bedecked with bunting and streamers; every garden is fragrant with multitudes of English roses. The whole city simply blooms with rose petals, ribbons and bunting.

I didn't attend any of the events, preferring instead to watch them in the comfort of my home on the telly. However, we live so close to the Parks that I heard the loud "hip-hip-hoorays" and the fireworks after the Jubilee concert carrying through the night air. And, the planes that flew over the Palace also flew over my flat. From my own cozy lounge I felt like I was in the centre of the action!

Previously I didn't give the Queen much thought, except to know that she's on our money, and on my passport, and that she is the head of the Commonwealth. However, the Jubilee celebrations uncovered my nascent affection for her. Why? I love her because of her gentle, feminine influence. The world can be such a harsh place filled with conflict and hatred. The Queen is a benevolent spirit who travels around listening to people and protecting the arts. And, that's what the world needs more than warrior dictators, don't you think?

So long at the fair

Just a little ditty to cheer up a Wednesday.  

I loved singing this song as a child.  I woke up with the tune in my ears, and had to put a little sketch to paper. 

And, if you have a moment, and you need a little inspiration, you can listen to Julie Andrews singing a variation of this nursery rhyme

HERE

.  

The Sea! The Sea!

Being a prairie girl, I've never had a close acquaintance with the sea. I've admired it on summer trips; I've stuck my toes in it and shivered; I've dreamed of living in a beach house; but, it never seemed like a "real" place. The seaside was a dream and a vacation, not a home.

Now I find myself living within a short distance from two seas: the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic ocean. Each has its own distinct personality and moods, and each are inspiring in their own way. And I love them both!

This new friendship with the sea led me to contemplate children and mermaids. How much fun would it be to have a secret mermaid friend? 

 

The Cape Town Aquarium

Riding Horses in the Atlantic.

Illustration Friday - Stripes

Here's the sketch for today.

I've been staring at a blank piece of paper all week, trying to figure out what to do next. I have two large projects that need starting (need finishing actually, but starting comes first). Do you ever get that crippling feeling of artistic insecurity before you start something big?

It got so frustrating this morning that I just had to draw SOMETHING. So... I did an illustration friday painting. The theme was "stripes." I didn't want to over-think the challenge, as I've been over-thinking my projects all week, so I just did a simple stripey portrait.

And, you know what? Suddenly I think I have more creative chutzpah to tackle those overwhelming projects. :-)

Sketching Llandudno - Cape Town

 

I promise, I have been drawing every day. I just can't prove it. Really. Every day I sit down with my sketchbook and watch my pencil skim across the paper. Sometimes I'm happy with the result; sometimes I'm not; and, sometimes, the sketch turns into something I don't want to share. What I mean is, they turn into something more substantial, a full painting that I will share at a later date (you know, to keep the suspense going).

These daily drawings have forced me to really think about my style. What is my visual language? How do I make marks on paper? The trick with drawing is to be able to anticipate what might unfold. You need to draw as though the sketch could turn into a full painting. That means different things for different people, as everyone works differently. For me, it means working with clear lines and tones (three shades: light, middle, dark).

The exercise has forced me to draw with greater clarity. I have to see clearly in order to be able to draw clearly.

Above you see a little pencil sketch of Llandudno, a lovely bay in Cape Town. To the left is the Klein Leewkoppie, the smaller lion's head mountain. This tiny sketch was done quickly, in my evolving visual short-hand. I couldn't draw them, but the waves in the bay were teaming with seals frolicking in the waves.

Well, hello there, old friends

There is something cathartic about organizing the studio. These long lost friends of mine, sequestered in suitcases and plastic bags, have finally found their way back into the daylight. My brushes, pens, pencils, and paints have travelled with me across two hemispheres. From Cape Town to Winnipeg and back, with many stop-overs in between. They've served their wandering master well, with no complaints (except from the paint tubes... some exploded inflight and left my art-bag full of pigment) and now they've come to rest on a my studio table again.

One thing I've learned through all this travel and upheaval is that here is no 'magic' place to make art. I used to think that I needed a perfect studio, and all my art supplies arranged 'just so,' before I could create something worth-while. On this trip I haven't had that luxury; In fact, I've had to create illustrations for silly deadlines in all manner of inconvenient places. All that really matters is that I have the time to stop and draw, no matter where I happen to be sitting.

We're back in Cape Town for the next couple of months, and I'm back in my studio with the view of the grapevine and Table Mountain. I'm definitely going to have lots of work to do in the next few months, so perhaps this next statement is foolhardy... but... I want to start a drawing challenge.

I resolve to draw something every weekday and post it on this blog.

[There, I said it. Now you can keep me accountable!]

Sketches from New York and Minneapolis

A whole week in New York... and I spent practically the whole time staring at the skyline. The variety of roofline shapes, colours and heights sent my head into a dizzy spin. Or perhaps it was the vertigo of staring up all the time while trying to walk in a straight line and not crash into a harried New Yorker.

I wanted to record the crowds, and the activities, that I saw around me in that great city. Instead, I found myself drawing all the fire escapes and water towers. Did you know that practically every New York building of a certain age has a small water tower on its roof to increase water pressure? They seemed so old fashioned and quaint, like a nod to the past in the ultra-modern, ultra-fast-paced city.

I imagined that Yakko, Wakko and Dot from the Animaniacs would burst out of a random water tower and break into wild song and dance. Perhaps to interrupt the UN General Assembly with their antics. Do you remember that old Warner Brothers show?

The last water-tower sketch is from the old Pillsbury Flour mill in Minneapolis. And here's another old children's TV trivia question: Do you remember the Pillsbury Doughboy? I loved the way he always said, "Hoo Hoo!" with a giggle whenever the industrious Mom tickled his stomach. He was so helpful in the kitchen; and the cookies, buns and rolls always turned out perfectly.

Hoo Hoo!

Summer Sunday Sketches in Steinbach

Summer Sunday sketches in Steinbach.

Ok, try to say that five times fast.

Yesterday I spent a lazy afternoon wandering around my home town with my sketchbook and a new Faber-Castell brush pen. The clock tower in my drawing is at the corner of Reimer and Main, the epicentre of town, where everything happens.

At least, where everything happens on a weekday. On a Sunday it is perfectly quiet, and the only thing bustling down the street is a lazy, hot prairie wind.

I haven't used brush pens much, and I've discovered that I really love the long undulating line. I wonder: how long does a brush pen last before it can't achieve those delicate thin lines, and only drags thick, scratchy strokes across the page? I guess I'll find out as I learn.

Sketching Haas

It just occurred to me that I should have draw rabbits. After all, "Haas" means rabbit in Afrikaans. Instead I drew all the rats, mice, birds and turtles populating the coffee shop named Haas.

Be not afraid, however, the animals weren't real: most were sculptures and some were stuffed. Jesse and I escaped our respective studios for another sketch outing. We've devoted the next few weeks to exploring the coffee shops of Cape Town with pencil and paper in hand.

It makes a welcome retreat from reminders of endless deadlines and to-do lists in our studios. The best thing about being a freelance illustrator is the luxury to sit leisurely in a sidewalk cafe and say, "I'm working; this is research."

Happy sketching!

Adventures in... Johannesburg

Mark and I spent the weekend visiting his sister and her family in Johannesburg (affectionately known as Jo'burg). The weekend was filled with socializing, seeing a bit of the city, and making new friends. I didn't really have time to spend sketching, but my eyes and my mind were still full of artistic inspiration.

We went on a game drive in a reserve called The Cradle. It isn't far from the city, in fact you can see it sprawling in the valley below the reserve. Everything I saw inspired me: the colours, the fresh scent in the air, the animals... but there was no way I could draw everything. It happened too quickly, and it was too cold to hold a pencil. So... I sketched with my camera.

It is completely possible to 'sketch' with a camera. Not everything has to be done with a pencil or pen. A quick photograph can record an idea, a composition, a gesture, and lots and lots of colour. I often see something, and challenge myself to name the tubes of watercolour paint I'd use to capture the scene.

The world is bursting with colour, and I can't wait to explore it more with my camera.

In my Cape Town Studio

At the moment I'm working on lots of stuff I can't share (*wink*). Hopefully I'll be able to share it in the near future. For the meantime, I thought I'd show you my studio table, and my little clothespin friend.

I need to find excuses to get out of the house, so I've started taking ballet classes. I took ballet as a child (as many little girls do), and then dropped it when I realized you had to perform on stage. I'm am not naturally comfortable in front of an audience. But, now that there's no pressure to perform, it's fun to reignite my love for dance and music.

To honour this newfound hobby, I made myself a clothespin dancer. She now keeps me company as I work on sketches and thumbnails for a new project.

And, do you want to know what's really funny? And it proves that I'm still basically a child at heart... I always snicker when the teacher says "now do that step three times derrière." Which basically means, do the step towards the back, instead of the front. But, as many of you may know, derrière is french for "backside," hence the childish snickers from the peanut gallery (i.e. me).