And it’s not even my past

But anyway, it’s too late. The book has sold out, and I only got mine on Monday.

Throughout lockdown, Ian Archie Beck has entertained his followers on Twitter with art. And it’s not any old art. His paintings and drawings from – mostly – around where he lives; the local streets, the back of his house, his vase, possibly even his flowers. Absolutely gorgeous!

So I thought, this could be a series of postcards to buy, maybe. Or a book. I’ll look out for it.

So, just before Easter he admitted that yes, there would be a book soon. And he’d be selling it direct and I could order one. Thank god I had the good sense to order it there and then. Because it’s already too late, as I said.

I don’t know all that much about Ian. I’ve read one of his children’s books. We’ve gone to the same parties. And with this book he has proved that art is like writing books (only harder, I imagine); it gets a lot better when you deal with what you know best.

As lockdown began, Ian’s dog Grace apparently pulled him in the opposite direction from where their usual walks would go. Ian discovered new areas of his part of Isleworth. He went home and painted what he’d seen, and what he’d been inspired to notice.

And it’s this pictorial lockdown diary he has treated us to, first on Twitter, and then as a book. All right, and also as postcards. And you can buy the original art. Or you could. It sounds like it’s mostly gone already, like the book. Which is just as well, because I couldn’t afford those prices, and my available wall area is not all that available. And the painting I loved the most wasn’t even on the price list of the art for sale…

So that’s fine.

I will sit and dream over the paintings in the book, and maybe frame one or two of the postcards, because as Daughter wryly pointed out, I might have room for those.

The paintings. Well, streets and houses and still lifes, and it all brings me back to my childhood. Which is strange, because that’s not where my childhood happened. But it’s my archetypal English town, the kind I used to dream of when younger.

And I’m clearly not alone, since Philip Pullman expressed very similar feelings on Twitter. As did most everyone else. And I think we can only keep our fingers crossed that there might be a second edition of The Light in Suburbia, and more postcards, and maybe more paintings, and why not a second book?

You know, we can’t have enough of this kind of wonderfulness.

Down Memory Lane

I’ve been concerned with getting too grumpy. And I don’t want to be. So I thought I’d look out photos from the past; pictures that make me happy remembering what I was doing and who I was with.

In our first year of the Edinburgh International Book Festival we met lots of people, old [to us] and new. One event I was simply not going to miss was Anne Fine and Melvin Burgess, and those of you with good memories will know why I thought this could be especially interesting. The third author with them was going to be newbie Rachel Ward, whom I didn’t know anything about. I just felt a bit sorry for anyone caught in the crossfire.

Well, Melvin was Melvin and Anne was dignified and calm and they didn’t fight. And Rachel was all right. Both from the crossfire aspect, but also because she was a rewarding new author to meet. With good taste in necklaces.

Almost twelve years on and Rachel is someone  I ‘see’ just about every day – on social media – and she keeps us going with her photographs and her art. Lovely pictures from near her home, adorable dogs, and fun photos of her grandkittens.

And her art! I have a couple of Rachel’s paintings on my walls, and if I were to be miraculously furnished with plenty more walls, I know exactly what I’d hang on them. You can see some of her stuff on Instagram if you like (rachelwardart).

So that is a sunny memory.

Draw for me

Continuing with The Author journal, and my time travel, I found several good articles in the Summer issue. One of them was by Sarah McIntyre, who illustrates, but also writes. The odd thing was that as I absentmindedly stared at the double spread lying open in front of me, I saw the writing in the middle of the illustration, and thought ‘that looks like Sarah McIntyre’s writing’. And it was. It would have been even more immediately obvious if I’d read the byline or looked at the picture.

It seems – although I knew this already – that wannabe authors contact illustrators and ask them to do their picture book. Because obviously this is what artists in the book world do; hope some amateur will come along and their fortune will be made. Just like that.

Whereas they work hard, because a book takes a long time, and they have contracts and deadlines to stick to, and usually the publishers are the ones who will know who will suit which story.

Sometimes an illustrator has to choose between answering these emails [politely], or spend time with their families. Hard choice, yes?

But you know, it’s an irresistible thought. Who would I want to illustrate for me? The answer is most of them.

Again, as you know, I have no real book plans, and certainly not picture books. But there is that thought at the back of my mind. If I had a book, it would at least require a cover image. And so my mind goes. I like a lot of illustrators, and their work. My solution is to ask a new person for each book I publish. Or, more likely, my imaginary publisher will in their infinite wisdom commission new cover art for every book I have coming out.

The Tracy Beaker look, maybe. Kate Leiper would make my heart leap. Debi Gliori. Sean Tan. Mairi Hedderwick.

What the pages inside these lovely books would have on them is anybody’s guess. I have no idea. But just as some people begin with having the perfect book title, so I have a great cover coming. I just know it.

Making art

Oh how I wish books like these had existed when I was the right age!

The Artist in You, by Julie Brunelle and Peter Wood, is perfect on more than one count. First they show you some famous, but still gorgeous, works of art, from pop art to old masters. They talk you through what you are seeing, which means that you learn about the paintings, and the painters, and facts about painting. (And then I want to rip the pages out to stick on my poor walls again.)

Julie and Peter then show you how to achieve art like this, a sort of ‘do this at home.’ I’d have loved that – although most likely it would have been frustrating – and I am sure there are many hopeful young artists who will want to have a go.

Then we have two books by James Mayhew, for slightly younger artists. In Learn to Draw with Katie, James also shows his readers how to copy the great masters, and in this case he helps a bit, by having provided simple drawings to ‘colour in.’

And in Discover Art with Katie, we have stickers! I love stickers, and I know I’m not alone in this. I have just about managed not having a go myself, ‘improving’ a few of the classic paintings we all know. Described as an activity book, there are puzzles and word-searches as well.

So, three fun books about art, and how to do it yourself.

Art-full

Painting and drawing can be therapeutic. Or so I believe. Not that I would know, as I can’t do those things [well enough for the therapeutic-ness to kick in]. And someone on social media has been painting her way round some book tours recently, posting one picture after the other for the rest of us to see.

Hoping it might eventually lead to a change of ownership, some of us tried to lay claim to ones we particularly loved. But you know, in some cases others got there first.

So [let’s call her] Tally isn’t just an author who authors extremely well. But she can paint too! She’s not the only one, either, and that’s not counting those people I know who make a living from both words and pictures.

Finally, a couple of days ago, Tally said we needed to take these paintings off her hands, and then the fighting began. I was awake early enough, but needed breakfast before engaging in online art war, and that’s when ‘some business’ happened.

But later in the day I caught [let’s call her] Kaye saying she wanted the one I wanted, so I said it was ‘mine, actually’ and she said ‘damn’ and then we went to bed. Separately, I hasten to add.

Woke up the next day to find shopkeeper Tally reminding me that Kaye ‘is pretty nifty with a sword.’ As if I needed reminding. I obviously said Kaye could have the painting. Just to be nice, not because the sword worried me. At all.

And you know, I could see it in my mind. The Western style bar, Tally leaning back nonchalantly in her chair, legs resting on the table in front of her, chewing on a toothpick, watching me and Kaye. Possibly twirling her gun, if she had a gun.

I mean, personally I feel she should have sold those paintings as quickly as possible, and none of this baiting the customers… but then Kaye said she’d have a puffin instead, putting her sword away, before I even got my broomstick ready.

Ah, well, one lives (hopefully) and learns.

But don’t you just hate it when some people are multi-talented?

The Story of Paintings

There is so much beautiful art in this book on History of Art for Children, that at first I didn’t see Mick Manning or Brita Granström in there, and they are the ones who made the book.

I ought to be used to their style of educating children with the help of art and carefully researched facts, but still I saw only the classic art. And that’s perhaps as it should be.

From cave paintings to Jean-Michel Basquiat, it’s all there. The adult reader will not be surprised to see all the classic paintings, and this is a fine way for children to learn.

Each page has a work of art alongside information about the artist and then some of Brita’s drawings to show how the artist might have looked as he/she worked, and with individual comments that make each painting special.

There is a glossary at the end, explaining the bare minimum of arty words. Enough, but not so it gets boring.

Fantastic book and so beautiful to look at!

Picture This!

At my age I have seen most, but not all, of the art featured in Paul Thurlby’s new picture book guide to the National Gallery in London. But I’m hoping that the young reader this book is aimed at will either not have seen any, or might feel good about recognising an iconic picture or two, and then want to look at more art.

Paul’s book would be a good start. You could look through it before visiting, and you could either take it along, or revisit these pages after your trip to London’s enormous gallery where you can see so much interesting stuff.

The art is ‘the real thing’ and then Paul has added some of his own, as well as making comments or explaining the great masters. And every now and then you can add your own art into small frames dotted about, or you have questions to answer, quizzes and puzzles.

In other words, lots to do, what with reading the book really thoroughly and then traipsing round the National Gallery.

There isn’t enough of Paul’s own art in this book, but then I suppose that wasn’t the intention. Anyway, if you have lobsters to spot and snowball fights, that’s good enough.

Get Colouring With Katie

Get those colouring pens out! James Mayhew’s Katie is back, and this time she has some half-finished masterpieces for us.

If you are a long-term fan of James’s, you will recognise these pictures. As you will if you are a regular in art galleries or paid attention at school.

Fifteen works of art where James has helped with lines and things to get you started. And I believe you want to be quite careful as you go, since this really is fine art, so no big, sweeping brush strokes, please.

With care, this book could keep you, or your child, quiet for most of the summer holidays. And, you could always see if you can go and visit some of the originals. See who did the better job.

I love Katie!

Generosity

Translator Daniel Hahn had two pieces of good news to share yesterday. First he won the International Dublin Literary Award with author José Eduardo Agualusa for the book A General Theory of Oblivion. They share the €100,000 award, which is very generous as literary prizes go. Even Daniel’s 25% is a lot of money.

And then Daniel decided to give some of it away again. He’s using half his money to fund a new First Translation Award for the Society of Authors, with an annual £2000 given to a first literary translation, to be shared by the translator and the editor.

But the generosity of people does not end there. Many of our favourite illustrators have donated art to an auction starting tomorrow, in aid of stranded refugees in Greece, via the Three Peas charity. I’ve had a little look, and there are many, many beautiful illustrations that would look great on anybody’s wall. Go on, you have about ten days to bid!

Not surprisingly the dreadful tragedy of the fire at Grenfell Tower in London has caused many authors to join in to help raise money for the British Red Cross to help residents affected by the fire. Authors for Grenfell Tower can be found here.

As always, there are many interesting and diverse items and services on offer. I quite fancy naming a character in Philip Pullman’s 2nd Book of Dust. I’m guessing that could fetch a lot of money. Or I could go book shopping with Lucy Mangan.

Frida Kahlo and the Bravest Girl in the World

Rather like Mariana, the young girl in Laurence Anholt’s new book about Frida Kahlo, I have been a little scared of Frida. She seems so different, and intimidating. She’s not, of course, and now both I and Mariana know this.

As in Laurence’s other books about famous artists, Mariana is a real child from Frida’s real life. Her father was a wealthy art collector, and Frida painted portraits of everyone in his family, and Mariana was the last to sit for Frida.

During the time it took for her portrait to be painted, Mariana learned about Frida’s life, including the accident that almost killed her, and why Frida always wore long skirts, and about her husband Diego Rivera. By the end of the painting the two were firm friends. Not even the skeleton above Frida’s bed scared her any more.

I love these artist’s life books! I actually have a whole pile here at the moment, because I’ve been hoarding them. Frida Kahlo is new, but the ones about Matisse, Degas and Cézanne have recently been reissued and they are so enjoyable.

Matisse might have been my favourite. Except I really loved Degas. And Cézanne was touching. So I don’t know. Either all these artists were really special and lovely people, or Laurence knows how to make them appear so. I especially admire the way he uses children and young people close to the artists to show what they were like as human beings, and not just the way we view these famous painters now. Life wasn’t always a bed of roses back when the painting was happening.

I do like Matisse’s chapel!