Heat Wave

This seems like the right picture for these suddenly dogged days of summer. Boston is in the middle of a heat wave and each day everything bakes more and it takes longer to dispel the built-up warmth. The mornings are not much cooler than the evenings. It's an old story to be sure. Many of you already live in warm climates and this is what you call summer: you go to the movies or La Plage and drink beer and sangria. It's very nice actually.

But, on to my picture and my amusing discourse: Here's an old bird; a burden really. It rides on top of a shut-up cart that's tugged by a sturdy young tern under the shade of a spiky willow tree on the edge of a baked land.

Where are the going? It seems as if this is where they always are: surviving in some sort of shelter just shy of total disaster. But on they go over the rounded boulders in motion and static at the same time: like a good picture. Sit! Stay! Be here, in this exact spot --posing the same questions --forever, until we return and gaze upon this particular configuration of dramatic elements.

Where are we going when we go away from a picture? Has a pause button been activated? Or do the antagonists work out their narrative and simply wait for us to catch up? Can the illustrator make an entire story: Beginning, Middle and Satisfying End, out of one picture that proposes a simple relationship and a set of basic conditions?

I believe this is not possible and lazy.  A painter could end his exploration with one painting or just a series of questions. The illustrator-author however must finish the story even if the characters are themselves unfinished. And this may be the real task of fiction and the secret ingredient we need to pursue: the characters have more stories to tell and this is just one of those strands. The characters must be interrogated mercilessly (and plied with beer and sangria!) So, I know it's boring perhaps and it may seem arbitrary but here is what happens to this pair of birds:

1. This big bird cannot fly and Tern has sacrificed much to take it to a wiser bird (like the Wizard of Oz) to find a remedy. Of course, this is a flightless bird already and flying is a delusion. Enlightenment comes, gently and the two separate but remain fast friends who visit every year. 

2. Along the way, they encounter other creatures and eventually with all striving to propel the cart and its mysterious contents, they reach the ocean and seaside resort with ice cream stands, umbrellas, cool surf and other similar animals to play with. The sun goes down and there is a fireworks display. But what was in the cart? Maybe just blankets to share throughout the cool nighttime.

3. Or maybe, as the Tern pulls the larger bird along, he tells it stories and with each story, the large burden becomes smaller and lighter. In the end they have climbed a high mountain and can enjoy the view.

4. They stay in the shade the entire way. They are thankful for the forest that skirts the desert. The trees supply fruit that they eat and at night they find shelter in the safe branches from lurking hungry foxes below. But why are they in the forest and what does this tell us about each character? The tern wants to see what a forest is like. The large bird is easily frightened of shadows and foxes and things that go bump in the night. They make it through the night and discover that home was always nearby.

from my sketchbook: 06-25-13
watercolor, ink, charcoal, crayon
© 2013 Rob Dunlavey

Not Writing Stories

Jan. 12, 2013

Stories take time to write …and rewrite into compelling forms. The deeper I get into illustrating children's books the more impressed I am by what children's book authors do. And if writing stories wasn't daunting generally, the narratives in picture books are brief and they often encompass a moral and emotional world that doesn't have room for the details and elaboration that longer story forms allow and require. I'm not totally inept: I can write a caption to go along with a painting. However, ask me to make up a story about my favorite characters and I am soon adrift and "in irons" on a sea of possible narratives. The question is: Why do writers write?

Our brains are creating stories all the time: assembling meaning out of a torrent of experiences that our senses capture. Our eyes and ears (and other organs!) are like fishermen hauling in net after net of shining silvery fish in every waking moment. Making pictures augments and focuses this flow of information. Some artists decide on the meaning (a story) before they set chisel to stone or brush to paper. They do lots of sketches and planning. They illustrate their own life perhaps, after the fact. Others, like me, paint first and ask questions later.

And so, the painting above was the result of a cascade of little artistic problems that got solved as I moved through the process of making it. It began with abstract multicolored lines scrawled along the bottom edge of the paper. I then superimposed the stair-step black charcoal lines. Some painting happened next. Watercolors delineated the basic space of the picture: rocky cliff, distant sea and the yellow sky.

It started getting more compelling for me once I added the bird on the left. He was soon accompanied by a big bear which wasn't drawn very well. So I drew the big black tree to hide the badly drawn bear, Finally, I added another bird to offer some sort of counter-point to the first bird.

But what is going on? The viewer will, with prodding perhaps, ask questions about my little picture.

1. Are the birds friends?
2. Are they thinking the same thing?
3. Maybe one bird likes to look out to sea while the other prefers the safety of the massive tree?
4. Will they sleep together in the tree and keep each other safe and warm at night?
5. Are they marooned on the island? Is it even an island?
6. Are they even the same type of bird? What sort of relationship do they have?
7. Maybe the bird on the right is shy and wants to be friends with the other one?
8. Maybe, like actual birds, we really have no business assuming their emotions are similar to humans.
9. And the tree, it looks very important. Does it symbolize some human ideal: strength, longevity or wisdom?
10. If I were to make another picture for this story, what should it be??

Indeed! If I were to make another picture, a "what-comes-next" type of picture, I think I would have one bird fly away and the other stay by the tree. Ouch! That seems rather sad doesn't it? I might just avoid the whole thing and make a different picture altogether. And that seems to be my dilemma. I make many many pictures similar to this one. Each one suggests a story. But one story after another is carried away on the next wave before it's ever completed. Maybe I need to stop making pictures. Or maybe I just need to figure out a way to write stories. Where to begin?

Solo +1

« Pensive Cormorant »
15 Oct. 2011
gouache, crayon-resist, ink

I wonder what he's thinking about? And that black shape looming behind him. Is it some grim thing advancing or just an unhappy place being left behind. He looks strong. He doesn't look beaten. I think he'll be okay. His wings can carry him anywhere he wants to go. Ah, if only he knew where! Maybe toward that light source on stage right.
He needs a friend doesn't he? If he is a character, he needs a companion to add to his story. As I've presented him in this single drawing, he has few options. What if he were like this Bear?

« Bear & Butterfly »
19 March 2011
colored pencil, gouache

Besides being a "sweeter" moment, this picture presents a few options for our characters: maybe the butterfly is giving the bear ideas about what it is like to be able to fly. Or maybe the bear realizes that they are opposite types of creature. He is long-lived, ponderous and white and she is evasive, rainbow-hued and fragile. This dynamic (there could be many others) begins to get the gears turning.
The Narrativity Elves™ can begin their work. Let's go guys! Stop gold-bricking!