3/19/10

Dreaming New Mexico



A symbolic Zia New Mexico garden (click to enlarge)

There is no mistaking this local garden for big agribusiness. It is designed around the the shape of a traditional Zia Pueblo sun symbol, the same one that appears on the New Mexico flag. The garden is still a concept and a symbol in itself of the interdependence of nature and cultures. If it is ever built, it will feature a meticulously thought out display of traditional and modern New Mexico crops arranged according to nutritional content, and cultural importance--like the "Three Sisters," corn, beans, and squash planted in the central spiral.

When I first got the client's sketch for this piece from Bioneers Collaborative Initiative, a group of pragmatic visionary planners, for the cover of their report, "Dreaming New Mexico," I hesitated to take it on for a few days. I thought it would be impossible to paint. There was so much scientific detail that it seemed at first to require a boring and textbook-like map or diagram of some kind with symbolic pattern fills, if the viewer was going to be able to identify the plants in each bed. Yet the whole purpose was to make the abstract idea seem real and appealing to the imagination, even to the taste buds! It was to be a garden that one would think about: food for thought.

My client's original intent was to visualize the hypothetical garden in a realistic way. It was certainly not anything that a photograph could convey. They wanted a painting. So I decided to try to give them one: a digital painting.

As it turned out, a little bit of scale exaggeration and idealizing of the plants made this work on its own as a painting. They decided, in the end, not to even violate the painting with little numbers and a key. I created a black and white line diagram of the mandala shaped beds and labeled each plant species there. This map was included inside the cover.

"Looks wonderful, " was the email reply to my first color proof.

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3/18/10

Secret Wild Pig Sketches Revealed

A Painting without a good drawing behind it is like a body without a skeleton, like a jellyfish of of water. Well, almost. We usually don't look at each other's bones, but they are there underneath, forming what we see about a person. They are the unseen essence that gives form to life. Same thing with a painting.

This is the final pencil sketch for the book cover.


Pencil sketch From Moon of the Wild Pigs, by Jean Craighead George. 
My first illustrated kids book. Final painting is below.



Last January I had the pleasure of a studio visit from Karen Nelson Hoyle, Curator of the Kerlan Children's Literature Research Collections at the University of Minnesota, my alma mater. She was interested in acquiring the correspondence and sketches from books that I illustrated by some authors already in their collection.

One of these files was from Moon of the Wild Pigs, by Jean Craighead George. I illustrated this special edition in 1990 and it was one of teh main reasons I quit my full time graphic design job at the University of Arizona to become a full-time illustrator.

We had a nice chat, but digging out these old drawings did something else for me. Why is it that the rough studies and sketches that lead up to a painting are often more interesting than the final work itself? Maybe it's because that's where all the juice is. They are records of that mysterious creative process: researching the subject, feeling it out, ideas are tried out, compositions carefully crafted, things deleted...

Sketches are often not seen or valued, but they are the parent, or the seed from which a final painting grows. And probably other final paintings could come from each sketch as well. They are not meant for anyone but the artist and are rarely seen.

These sketches were final pencils, compiled on tracing paper from many smaller elements. I sent these to Harper Collins for approval before starting the color art. The line work is very accurate, yet I still made small corrections as I traced these sketches onto my final paper on a light table.

The final art was created using a combination of colored pencils and pastel dust--ground up chalk pastels applied in layers with a brush and lots of fixative. I use to have to wear a gas mask while I was working in this technique.

Some of these pencil sketches have been in the dark for 15 years or more. I scanned some of them for my own record before giving them away.

A Spiny lizard. I got to handle this handsome dude back stage at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.


I had forgotten this: I flipped the image when I transfered it to my paper for color work.


This piece was deleted by the editors at sketch stage. I remember hiking up a canyon in the Tucson Mountains at night after a big rain, with a camera and flash to catch these Spadefoot toads mating in the short-lived pools. I still think about finishing a painting from this one.


I didn't draw every hair here because I would do that on the final--all I needed was the outlines. I traveled to a ranch where the Game and Fish Department had some orphan  javelinas in a pen. I got to pick up one of the babies. They look cute, but it's surprising how tough and wiry their hair is. 

I always want to touch what I'm going to draw if I can. If it's edible or drinkable, I'll taste my subject. I didn't eat any wild pigs however.

The boar welcomes the new baby to the clan.

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3/5/10

Coyote Shit: A Philosophical Perspective




Taken out of context, the slide of the coyote feces on my slide talk, The Art of Business Thinking 1,  might seem like a random act of image-slinging for simple shock value. Well, maybe that slide was dog poop. But let me explain.

The subject has to do with ridding ourselves of ideas, beliefs, or viewpoints--the ones that no longer serve us, but that we hang onto anyways. Sometimes it's worth arguing the pros and cons of an issue, but that could take a lot of time. That's why an  image of coyote shit is often the most efficient solution to a tiresome debate: you can quickly get on to the next topic. The new idea.

If you think about it, you'll see that most ideas, beliefs, and viewpoints are temporary. They can easily become just plain wrong wrong as they age. The most decisive way to deal with them is quick release.

I think this is close to what Gary Hamel was saying in his book, Leading the Revolution. (I'm not saying he would use my analogy.) Hamel says that true innovation is more important than the simply new, which might just be the latest fad. Achieving authentic innovation usually means tearing down and recreating traditional concepts and whole business models. Even the ones taught in school.

Sound something like what artists do? Well, that's because quick release and decomposition of old ideas is the essence of the creative process. There is only so much room on a canvas, so quick removal, or overpainting, of the old allows room for the new.

Coyotes instinctively know this. That's why they are one of the most adaptable and successful mammals on our planet. And the subtle connection with the creative process may be why they are considered sacred animals here in the Southwest here I live.

I took some better photos of verifiable coyote poop while on a hike in the desert recently. Coyotes like to shit on the trail, where they know you will see it. It's part of the scenery.

At first glance at their scat, one can see that coyotes are omnivores, like us. Except that they really do eat almost everything, even things that are not food. Their scat is usually covered with hairs, and full of berry rinds, seeds, bones, almost anything that is not digestible. You can tell a lot about what is being served in the area by a close examination.

I looked in the literature and the oral traditions of the Tohono_O'dham people in my region of Arizona. Coyote is usually described as a character with a certain personality we'll call Coyote, with a capital C. He is a trickster. In general, when Coyote shows up in the stories, things always take a turn for the worse, go wrong in creative ways that one would never have even imagined. Everything he tries to do fails, and not in a simple way, usually in an spectacular way. Or so it seems.

Yet Coyote was one of the first beings hanging around at the creation of the Earth. Along with the Buzzard, another low-life character. And Coyote helps in the Creation. Or tries to. But sometimes, unexpectedly, some good comes of the situations he messes up. It eventually serves a purpose that no one else had thought of.

Coyotes are considered a pest and must be one of the most hunted animals in North America. Yet they are still extending their range: in the last few decades coyotes have colonized the Eastern US, as well as their traditional ground in the West.

I know because I designed a map for a book I recently illustrated, Frequently Asked Questions About Coyotes. Maybe they really didn't need that map because coyotes are basically almost everywhere.


Despite bounty hunters and the best we can throw at them, coyotes are more successful than ever. Why? Because they are both adaptable and intelligent. They do not necessarily follow the rules, even those laid down by authorities on coyote behavior. They are also cooperative--they will take turns chasing down a rabbit to tire it out. Coyotes have even been seen cooperating with badgers. Of all things. I never would have thought of that.

Come to think of it, I've draw a lot of coyotes over my career as an illustrator. I decided to pay attention to what the coyote might have to say. There is often a deeper wisdom behind folly. So I started with his shit. After all it was right there in front of me.

So back to my point in the business talk. (Remember I did have a point.)

They are smart, flexible, observant, and playful. I think I'll adopt the coyote as the patron saint of free-lance illustrators.

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Here are to several versions of these stories collected from from the O'Odham People of Southern Arizona, my home.



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