Urban Animals

No,  not pigeons, rats, or raccoons.  Urban Animals by Isabel Hill (Star Bright Books, 2009) is about animals in architecture, and it works as an introduction to architectural terms (like keystone, column, and bracket), as well as an I Spy book that might inspire you and your kids to look for the animals in your own built environment (or in a nearby city; author and photographer Isabel Hill found all of these animals in New York).

I like the design details of Urban Animals itself:  Colorful cartoon animals correspond to the mostly monochrome architectural ones, and coordinating accents (photo corners on the detail shots, the hand-printed font used for architectural terms) brighten things up.  The rhyming text (it's all in couplets) is relatively utilitarian.  Here's a typical double-page spread:

There's also an Architectural Glossary at the back of the book, helpfully keyed to a line drawing of a city block; and a list of "Animal Habitats" that gives the NYC street address (as well as the architects and construction dates) of the buildings featured in the book.

It's interesting to think about why a particular animal might have been incorporated into a building's design:  the cow on the Sheffield Farms Milk Plant makes sense, and so does my favorite, the squirrel on the Kings County Savings Bank, but what about the alligator on Liberty Tower?

[Local folks, check out the National Building Museum's Calendar of Events for animal sightings in Washington, DC.  I'll let you know if we spot any more!]

Middle Grade Gallery 4

So far the Middle Grade Gallery has only featured paintings from fantasy novels.  This week's description, however, is from a family story set in mid-twentieth century New York; it may even refer to an actual work of art (not the one pictured, which is Renoir's Girl with a Hoop, 1885).

[She] was always finding things that belonged to her in a special way, though ownership had nothing to do with it.  Now she had found the picture.  The catalogue told her that the picture was called The Princess, that it had been painted by someone named Jules Clairon in the year 1881.  In the picture a girl about [her] age was sitting on a garden wall and looking out over an enormous city.  She had a solemn little face: her long hair hung to the sash of her old-fashioned dress, and her high-heeled boots were buttoned almost to the knee.  Among the potted chrysanthemums at her foot sat a black poodle with a red bow on top of his head.  On either side the clipped plane trees were almost bare, and in the distance the huge city was spread in a dusky web of blue and gray.

This must be referring to the French artist Georges Jules Victor Clairin (1843-1919), although I can't find a painting of his online that fits this description.  I substituted Renoir's roughly contemporaneous Girl with a Hoop:  she has the same solemn face, long hair, and old-fashioned dress.  Sadly, no poodle.

Please leave a comment if you think you recognize the source of this description (or if you're an expert on Clairin).  And check back on Monday for the details!

The Shadows

The painting of the forest at night featured in last week's Middle Grade Gallery comes from Jacqueline West's debut novel, The Shadows (Volume 1 of The Books of Elsewhere; Dial, 2010).  It's one of several paintings--landscapes, portraits, genre scenes of stonemasons and laughing girls-- in the old house on Linden Street that serve as portals into a mysterious Elsewhere.

Enter Olive Dunwoody, the eleven-year-old daughter of two abstracted math professors who have just bought the house and its contents.  Olive, lonely and left to her own devices most of the time, senses almost immediately that the house is keeping secrets.  With the help of a pair of spectacles, three talking house cats (Horatio, the gigantic orange one, is my favorite) and her own determination to solve the mystery of the paintings and the people in them, she travels into--and out of--Elsewhere.  But if she's not careful, she may get trapped in a painting before she can stop the dark forces who created them...and live in them still.

I absolutely adored this book.  Starting with Olive, who's an extremely likable heroine--shy and awkward, but also imaginative, curious, and brave (lots of bookish girls will recognize themselves in her); her relationships with her parents, who are present if not exactly paying attention; and with Morton, a small annoying boy who's been trapped in a painting for a long time himself.  Plus the cats!

Then there's the house.  Who can resist an old stone Victorian, full of antique furniture and strange knicknacks?  Not I.  It's got an attic heaped with things, too; not to mention an overgrown garden that I hope Olive explores more thoroughly in one of the later books in the series.

Most of all, though, I love the mystery, and the mechanics, of The Shadows.  The paintings aren't just portals between the house and Elsewhere, they are Elsewhere.  The people there are mostly paintings, too--the scenes where Olive realizes this about Morton, and then later when he realizes it about himself, are especially memorable.  [For what this might look like, check out Alexa Meade's acrylics on flesh.]

A note about the book itself:  If I were to write a middle grade fantasy novel, I would want it to be as beautifully made (let alone written) as this one.  Poly Bernatene's black-and-white illustrations are fantastic, a perfect fit for the creepy/comic tone of the text; the endpapers, printed with empty frames, are the exact same shade of blue as the sky on the jacket; there's even a debossed pair of spectacles on the hardcover underneath.  It's all very satisfying.

The Shadows has been compared to Coraline, but really, I liked it even better.  Highly recommended!

[Review copy received from publisher at ALA; thank you so much!]

A Boy Named Giotto

We read A Boy Named Giotto by Paolo Guarnieri (illustrated by Bimba Landmann; FSG, 1999) at the National Gallery of Art yesterday, as part of the NGA's summer series Stories in Art (this year's theme is Explore Italy).  Inspired a legend about the artist's childhood, the story tells how the boy Giotto, with materials borrowed from the artist Cimabue, paints a sheep so convincingly that even her missing lamb is fooled and returns to Giotto's father's flock.  When Cimabue sees Giotto's painting of the sheep, he asks Giotto's father to let his son become Cimabue's apprentice, which eventually he does.

Landmann's elegant illustrations are likewise inspired by the work of Giotto, which is a daunting task; but not imitative, which never works anyway.  They evoke the early Renaissance, with its Byzantine grace and modern spirit.  I love the palette Landmann uses here as well, all rusts and ochres and gold.

Unfortunately, A Boy Named Giotto is out of print (my library doesn't even hold it anymore) so we haven't been able to reread it or look closely at the illustrations.  If you can find this one, it's worth it.  In gold (or at least gold leaf).

[Nonfiction Monday is at In need of chocolate this week.  Thanks!]

Middle Grade Gallery III

This week in the Middle Grade Gallery, a painting (one of several) from a brand-new novel I absolutely adore and can't wait to review.  In the tradition of paintings like the one of the Narnian ship at sea, it's a portal to another, mysterious place. 

It was a painting of a forest at night.  The twigs of leafless trees made a black web against the sky.  A full moon pressed its face through the clouds, touching a path of white stones that led into the dark woods and disappeared.  But it seemed to [her] that somewhere, maybe just at the end of that white path, maybe in the darkness where the moonlight couldn't reach--there was something else within that painting.  Something she could almost see.

[Me again.]  Okay, so there are no trees in Andrew Wyeth's Snow Flurries, 1953 (NGA).  There is the suggestion of a white path, though, and of something else....

I'll reveal (and review) the source of this description next week.  In the meantime, please comment if you can recall any other portal paintings in middle grade novels, so I can add them to my collection.  Thanks!

[The review is here.]

Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Congratulations to Charlotte of Charlotte's Library and Jennifer of Jean Little Library, who correctly identified the source of last month's featured work of art in the Middle Grade Gallery:  The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis.  The rest of you just weren't trying!  It is of course the picture of a Narnian ship at sea that hangs in a back room at Aunt Alberta's (I've always wondered who gave it to her) and becomes a portal into Narnia--or more precisely, into the Narnian sea--for Lucy, Edmund, and their horrible cousin Eustace.  I love this scene in the book and have been very curious about how it will look in the movie (due out December 10); fortunately, it's featured prominently in the trailer.

In the book, the children notice that the things in the picture are moving (Lewis notes that "it didn't look at all like a cinema, either"); then there's wind and noise and a wild, briny smell; finally, "a great, cold salt splash [breaks] right out of the frame." Then the children grow smaller or the picture grows bigger (it's not clear which), and they're all drawn down into the sea.  Here's the trailer for comparison:

What do you think?  Does this scene look as you had imagined it?

Alphabeasties is just my type

The animals in Alphabeasties and Other Amazing Types by Sharon Werner and Sarah Forss (Blue Apple Books, 2009) are created--or composed, as in printing--of type.  There's a different typeface for each animal, from Volta EF Aaaa's for alligator to American Typewriter Zzzz's for zebra (as seen on the cover), with lots of clever combinations, like Bauhaus Dddd's for dog (it's a Dachsund, of course) in between. The result is a playful and sophisticated alphabet book that works for little kids, big kids, and their design-minded parents, too.

In a brief introduction to typefaces and to the concept of the book, Werner and Fosse ask readers to think of a word to describe each animal and consider whether that word also describes the typeface used to create it--a nice exercise in visual thinking.  My favorite match of typeface to animal might be the shaggy sheep (see below).  The typeface is Giddyup, except for a sans-serif band around the middle where the sheep has been sheared (with scissors): 

There's more witty letter-and-wordplay in the sidebars, where you'll find embroidered E's, zippered Z's, and a mouthful of T's, among multiple examples for each letter; as well as gatefolds that open horizontally or vertically to reveal the alligator's open jaws or (another favorite) the unicorn's flowing mane.  [See more interior photos at Werner Design Werks flickr; it was hard to pick!]

Ultimately, Alphabeasties reminds its readers that a b sounds like a b no matter what it looks like (little kids will appreciate that), but a Fette Fraktur B...that's a different animal.  Can you guess which one?

[N.b. Review copy provided by the publisher; thank you!  Alphabeasties is also available at the NGA Shop (that's where I saw it first).  For the littlest kids, there are Alphabeasties Flash Cards (the typeface animals are on the front of the cards; flip them over to make two floor puzzles).   And for everyone else, there's the Alphabeasties Amazing Activity Book as well.]

Middle Grade Gallery II

This week in the Middle Grade Gallery, a work of art which might be more familiar than the portrait of Oldknow children we looked at last week, and maybe even instantly recognizable.  As you read, try to imagine what this work of art looks like (I'm not a visual thinker, so I have to remind myself to do this):

It was a picture of a ship--a ship sailing nearly straight towards you.  Her prow was gilded and shaped like the head of a dragon with wide open mouth.  She had only one mast and one large, square sail which was a rich purple.  the sides of the ship--what you could see of them where the gilded wings of the dragon ended--were green.  She had just run up to the top of one glorious blue wave, and the nearer slope of that wave came down towards you, with streaks and bubbles on it.  She was obviously running fast before a gay wind, listing over a little on her port side.  All the sunlight fell on her from that side, and the water on that side was full of greens and purples.  On the other, it was darker blue from the shadow of the ship.

[Me again.]  It doesn't look anything like Fitz Henry Lane's Lumber Schooners at Evening on Penobscot Bay, 1853 (NGA), does it?  In many ways the two paintings are exactly opposite, yet I think they share the same magical quality (hint).  If you can identify the source, please be sure to leave a comment so I don't lose faith in my readership.

[See this post for the answer.]

Children of Green Knowe

Last week's featured work of art in the Middle Grade Gallery came from L.M. Boston's The Children of Green Knowe (1955; this edition, Harcourt Young Classics, 2002). No one guessed.  I hope this is a reflection of how many people visit books together and not of how many people read Lucy Boston, because the Green Knowe Chronicles are wonderful. Old-fashioned, yes, but in the very best sense of the word. There's an ancient manor house, an almost equally ancient great-grandmother, and the ghosts of the three children in the painting--Toby, Alexander, and Linnet.

The painting of the Oldknow children (which can be glimpsed in the background of Brett Helquist's cover illustration for this edition) is at the center of the second book in the chronicles, Treasure of Green Knowe. It's gone to an exhibition in London and may have to be sold.  Worst of all, its ghosts (but not all of them) have gone with it.  I think I like it even better than the first.

Middle Grade Gallery

I've been collecting written descriptions of works of art that appear in middle grade novels (fairly frequently, as least in the sorts of middle grade novels I like).  I'll post them here every now and then; bonus points if you know the source of the one below (leave a comment!).

As you read, ask yourself:

• Would you recognize this work of art from the author's description?
• What do you think it looks like?

Over the fireplace hung a large oil painting of a family, three children and two ladies.  There were two handsome boys, wearing lace collars and dark green silk suits.  They had long hair but looked anything but girlish.  The elder of the two, who might be fourteen years old, was wearing a sword, and it looked so natural to him that [he] was filled with hero-worship.  He had his hand on the collar of a tame deer.  The younger brother had a book under his arm and a flute in his hand.  The little girl had a smile of irrepressible high spirits that seemed to defy the painter to do a serious portrait of her.  she was holding a chaffinch, and beside her on the ground was an open wicker cage.  One of the two ladies was young and beautiful.  At her feet was a little curly white dog with a black face; on her arms was a basket of roses.  The other lady was old and dressed in black.  They all had large dark eyes and all their eyes seemed fixed on [him].  If he moved to one side all the eyes moved after him.

[Me again]  One more question:  If you were an artist (or a child; regretfully, I am neither), how would you recreate this work of art?  Imagine a whole series inspired by fictional works of art!  Someone should get on that.

Meanwhile, I'll unveil the title and author next week.  Hint:  It's a timeslip.

[For comparison to the written description and to each other:  Joshua Johnson, The Westwood Children, c.1807 (top) and Johann Zoffany, The Lavie Children, c.1770; NGA.  Does one or the other of these match your image of the painting described?  Mine is closer to The Westwood Children.]

[Unveiled!  Jennifer (Jean Little Library) and Charlotte (Charlotte's Library) knew but alas, didn't comment in time.]

Summer Birds: Maria Merian and Margarita Engle

I'm delighted to welcome Margarita Engle back to bookstogether, in advance of the publication of her first picture book, Summer Birds: The Butterflies of Maria Merian (Henry Holt, April 2010) and in honor of National Women's History Month.

This year's theme is Writing Women Back Into History, which is precisely what Margarita is doing for Maria Merian, a 17th century Dutch naturalist and artist whose work greatly advanced our understanding of the metamorphosis of the butterfly.  Margarita graciously answered my questions about all aspects of Summer Birds, from research to writing to seeing the the illustrations (by Julie Paschkis) for the very first time.

Anamaria Anderson (AA):  How did you first become acquainted with Maria Merian and her work?

Margarita Engle (ME):  More than twenty-five years ago, I was an agronomy professor and botanist.  I stumbled onto a book of Merian's work in a library's rare book room.  I fell in love with her artwork, and her courage as a scientist and explorer.

After learning as much as I could about her life and travels, I wrote a story about her for South American Explorer Magazine.  They paid me with a t-shirt showing South America as a butterfly's folded wing, with rivers as veins.

I also tried to write a children's story, but that was something new for me, and after a couple of rejections, I put the manuscript in a drawer, and did not touch it until a couple of years ago.  A couple of years ago, while cleaning my desk, I rediscovered it, revised it slightly, and sent it to Reka Simonsen, my editor at Holt.  I didn't expect her to accept it, but she did, and her choice of Julie Paschkis as the illustrator was genius.

AA:  What were some of the challenges of distilling your scholarly work into picture book format?

ME:  I grew up in a room filled with animals.  My sister and I were constantly "rescuing" caterpilllars, tadpoles, and other creatures, both large and small. It was easy to retrieve memories of my astonishment as I "discovered" metamorphosis.  For this picture book, I really wanted to portray Merian's childhood "aha" moment, that instant when she realized that she should trust her own observations of life cycles, rather than believing the superstitions of adults.  It is one of scientific history's most marvelous examples of truly original thinking.

AA:  How did the process of writing a picture book compare to writing a verse novel (such as The Firefly Letters; Henry Holt, 2010)?

ME:  The picture book experience was intense.  This is a characteristic shared with each individual poem in a verse novel.  It feels like tunnel vision, or time travel.  I basically can't see or hear anything except that one poem, or in this case, Merian's aha moment.  Nothing else in the world matters, during the writing process. 

AA:Summer Birds is beautifully illustrated by Julie Paschkis (also one of my favorites).  What was your reaction when you saw the illustrations for the first time?

ME:  They took my breath away!  Julie Paschkis planted my little seed of a story, and grew a whole world.  She did such a beautiful job of combining Merian's childhood sense of wonder with accurate science, as well as the fantastic medieval superstitions of adults.  People have asked me how an illustrator could "compete" with Merian's real artwork, but once they see this book, I am sure they will agree that Paschkis accomplished the impossible.

AA:  Do you have favorite details of the art you would like your readers to notice?

ME:  I love the way you can peek under the dust jacket, and see an entirely different illustration on the hard cover of the book, in a dramatically contrasting color scheme.

[Another] one of my favorite details is a ship with sails made of butterfly wings.  What a beautiful way to convey a child's dream of exploring!  That image of an adventurous ship with fragile wings is worthy of Merian's courage as an adult, when she really did sail forth to explore South America's rain forest, at a time when women did not travel.

AA:  That is a gorgeous image!  Could you tell us a little about your next picture book project?

ME:  My next picture book is about wilderness search and rescue dogs.  I know this subject from personal experience.  My husband is a volunteer K9 handler, with two dogs who search the Sierra Nevada mountains whenever a hiker gets lost.  My role is hiding in the forest so the dogs can practice.  I've spent many wonderfully quiet hours alone in the woods, waiting to be found.

AA:  And your next verse novel?

ME:  My next novel in verse is Hurricane Dancers, to be published by Holt this time next year.  It's about the first Caribbean pirate shipwreck, and in particular, about the native Cubans who were encountered by the pirate and his hostage, a wounded conquistador.

I already knew that I have ancestors who were pirates, and I was already working on this book when I learned that I carry a genetic marker for Ciboney/Taíno ancestry.  I descend from a tribe that has been considered extinct for five centuries.  Anyone who has grown up with tales of genocide knows the emotional impact of discovering that there were survivors.

AA:  Thank you, Margarita.  I can't imagine a more perfect voice for that story, and for this one.

Summer Birds: The Butterflies of Maria Merian is a beautiful book, one that works wonderfully well both as a biography of a little-known woman naturalist and as an introduction to metamorphosis for young picture book readers and listeners.  Highly recommended.

[Nonfiction Monday is at The Miss Rumphius Effect today.  Thanks, Tricia!]

Nonfiction Monday: The Vermeer Interviews

There's something about Vermeer that speaks to me and, I think, to a lot of people who are familiar with his work.  But he's never spoken to me quite as clearly as the figures in his paintings speak to Bob Raczka in The Vermeer Interviews: Conversations with Seven Works of Art (The Millbrook Press, 2009).  I knew I wanted to feature The Vermeer Interviews at bookstogether, so--naturally--I asked if I might interview Bob himself, and he kindly agreed.  Read on for more about The Vermeer Interviews and Bob Raczka's latest Art Adventures.

Anamaria Anderson (AA):  Bob, your approach to Vermeer’s paintings in this book is so intriguing.  Which came first, the interview format or the subject matter?

Bob Raczka (BR):  Definitely the subject matter. Vermeer is one of my favorite artists, and I had wanted to do a book about him for a long time. I actually wrote four or five different versions before I settled on the interview format. In my slush pile at home, I have a Vermeer alphabet book, a book of cinquain poems about Vermeer, a “house that Jack built” approach to Vermeer, and a “day-in-the-life” version.

Interestingly enough, the idea to interview the paintings came to me when I was reading Ways of Telling by Leonard Marcus, his book of interviews with several children’s book authors.

AA:  What kind of research did you do to prepare for The Vermeer Interviews? Were you able to look at any of the 7 paintings you interviewed in person?

BR:  Unfortunately, I have never seen any of Vermeer’s paintings in person. My “bucket list” includes seeing every Vermeer that still exists.

However, I have read many books about Vermeer–everything from Girl with a Pearl Earring, a fictional account of how that painting came to be, to Vermeer’s Camera, a nonfiction investigation into his use of the camera obscura, an early version of the camera. And I spent a lot of time poring over details of the paintings in those oversized art books you can find at the library.

AA:  Which of the figures was the most forthcoming? Which was the hardest to get to know?  Do you have a favorite?  (I’m partial to The Milkmaid myself.)

BR:  The Milkmaid was very easy to talk to. I get the feeling she likes to gossip. The Geographer was also very forthcoming–a man of science who enjoys sharing his knowledge of the world.

The student in The Music Lesson was very hard to get to know. She seemed shy about her feelings for her tutor.

It’s tough to pick a favorite, but I would have to say Woman in Blue Reading a Letter, The Geographer and The Milkmaid rank at the top of my list.

AA:  I visit the Woman Holding a Balance at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. fairly frequently. Is there anything you would like me to ask her next time I see her?

BR:  First of all, apologize for me. I was limited to seven interviews for my book, and she was not included.

One thing you could ask her is whether or not she is Vermeer’s wife, Catharina. Many art scholars suspect that Catharina was the model for at least a few of the women Vermeer painted, but no one knows for sure.

AA:  The Vermeer Interviews is the 11th book in Bob Raczka’s Art Adventures series, published by The Millbrook Press. Would you tell me a little about some of the recent and forthcoming books in that series?

BR:  Of course. Action Figures: Paintings of Fun, Daring and Adventure, was the 12th, published in the fall of 2009. Designed to appeal to young boys, it features paintings of a boxing match by George Bellows, a cattle stampede by Frederick Remington and a shark attack by John Singleton Copley, among others.

AA:  What a great concept!  I think I know where to find one of those paintings, too [Copley's Watson and the Shark is part of the NGA collection].  What's next?

BR:  Speaking of Art: Colorful Quotes by Famous Painters is being published this spring. For each artist, I pair an interesting quote with a representative work. For example, Paul Klee once said, “A line is a dot that goes for a walk.” Pablo Picasso said, “To draw, you must close your eyes and sing.”

This fall brings Before They Were Famous: How Seven Artists Got Their Start. This book features paintings by Picasso when he was 8, Dali when he was 10 and Michelangelo when he was 12.

AA:  Congratulations!  I understand you also write children’s poetry. Do you have any poetry books forthcoming?

BR:  As a matter of fact, Guyku: A Year of Haiku for Boys is being published this fall by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. It’s illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds, of The Dot and Ish fame, and I’m very excited about it.

AA:  Me, too; I'll be sure to look for it in the fall.  Til then, where can readers find more information about you and your books?

BR:  Readers can visit my website at bobraczka.com.

AA:  Thank you so much, Bob, and congratulations again--this looks like an exciting year for you!  I hope you'll keep us posted at bookstogether, too.

Now, inspired by The Vermeer Interviews, I have a few questions of my own for Vermeer's paintings--and for my readers:  Which is your favorite Vermeer?  What might you ask it?

Registered!

I'll be attending the ALSC Preconference "Drawn to Delight:  How Picture Books Work (and Play) Today" this June at the Corcoran.  I'm not a children's librarian, but I do work with children and art in museums using the Visual Thinking Strategies that inform Megan Lambert's Whole Book Approach to picture books.  If you're wondering what VTS and WBA are all about, I highly recommend (another acronym) SLJ's two-part series on "Art in Theory and Practice" by Wendy Lukehart (1/1 and 2/1/2010).  For more information about the preconference, see below:
 
"Drawn to Delight: How Picture Books Work (and Play) Today"
Friday, June 25 from 8:00 a.m. - 6:30 p.m., Washington, D.C.

Learn to better utilize picture books in your library's programming by seeing these books through the eyes of the people who create them!  Art directors, museum educators, and award-winning illustrators will take you through the creative and collaborative journey of picture book development during this inspirational Preconference at the Corcoran Galley of Art in Washington, D.C.  Studio demonstrations, hands-on opportunities and original art door prizes are just a few of the elements that await participants.
 
Why the ALSC Preconference?

• Provides you with a one of a kind look into the world of picture books--you won't find a more in-depth, day-long workshop on the subject anywhere else!
• Learn from more than 15 top authors and illustrators including three Caldecott medal winners, two Caldecott honor winners and one Belpré medal winner.
• Transfer the knowledge gained back to your library to provide better experiences for young patrons and families reading picture books.
• Hands-on opportunities during artist-lead small group studio sessions taking place throughout the gallery.
• Unbeatable ALSC member rate of $195 for the entire day; this includes: preconference registration, continental breakfast, lunch, evening reception, admission to the Corcoran Gallery of Art, and a chance to win original art work by the illustrators.
• If you're not attending the ALA Annual Conference that's not a problem!  You do NOT need to register for conference to attend the preconference.

Register here! 
Tickets: Advance: ALA Member $249; ALSC Member $195; Retired Member $180; Student Member $180; Non-Member $280.  Onsite cost is $325 for all.
Event Code: ALS1

[Me again.]  I hope to see you there!  Along with Jerry Pinkney, Brian Selznick, David Small, Laura Vaccaro Seeger, Kadir Nelson, Yuyi Morales, and Timothy Basil Ering.  But if you can't make it, not to worry:  I'll write about it here, too.

Pinkney's Lion and the Mouse lie down with the lamb

Or rather, the antelope.  One of my favorite details of Jerry Pinkney's Caldecott Medal-winning The Lion and the Mouse (Little, Brown, 2009) is the homage to Edward Hicks's Peaceable Kingdom paintings (with Serengeti animals) on the back cover, under the dust jacket.  Pinkney discussed the influence of Hicks and other artists on his work in The Lion and the Mouse in an interview with Reading Rockets ("A playful, peaceable kingdom"). 

We have a Peaceable Kingdom at the National Gallery, and I look forward to sharing Pinkney's interpretation of the theme with visiting students alongside Hicks's.  Thank you, Mr. Pinkney, and congratulations!

[Sadly, I don't have a digital image of Pinkney's Peaceable Kingdom to post; but you'll want to peek under the dust jacket of your own copy to find it anyway.]

Poetry on ice?

Literally, according to this reference in Louise Borden's The Greatest Skating Race: A World War II Story from the Netherlands (illustrated by Niki Daly; Margaret K. McElderry, 2004):

She could cut letters and words in the ice of the canal
with the blade of her skate,
like the long-ago Dutch poets.

Who were these Dutch poets?  Did they really cut poems in the ice?  Vondel and Bredero wrote poems about skating during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (known as Europe's Little Ice Age), and some of Vondel's poems are even short enough to skate (two words: U / Nu!).  The whole thing is probably apocryphal, but it's a lovely image nonetheless.

[The painting is by Hendrick Avercamp, A Scene on the Ice (1625).  You might recognize it from Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (actually, it belongs to the National Gallery, and you can skate there, too).]

Paint me a poem in reverse

I met Justine Rowden, author of Paint Me a Poem: Poems Inspired by Masterpieces of Art (Boyds Mills, 2005) at KidlitCon '09 (we had exchanged email before then, and she had kindly sent me a review copy of her book).  In Paint Me a Poem, Justine pairs each of thirteen paintings from the National Gallery of Art's collection with an original poem that offers just one new and unexpected way to look at it.

My favorite of Rowden's poems was inspired by Andre Derain's Flowers in a Vase, a still life I probably wouldn't have stopped to look at if I passed it in the Gallery.  Justine imagines two of the flowers (pink roses, also shown in a detail image) jostling one another for space in the vase.

The quality of the reproductions in Paint Me a Poem is excellent.  Unfortunately, as Justine informed me, the cover image of Cat and Kittens by an anonymous 19th century American artists was reversed!  The interior image is correct, and the book is being reprinted.  [Breaking news!  Laura at Author Amok reports that Paint Me a Poem has just been reprinted.]

What one detail of Cat and Kittens captures your imagination?  Poems welcomed but not required!

[Poetry Friday is at GottaBook today.  Thanks, Greg!]

Nonfiction Monday: We Spy Colors in Art

We've been enjoying the latest in the series of "I Spy" art books by Lucy Mickelthwait, I Spy Colors in Art (Greenwillow, 2007).  The concept is simple and elegant:  pair an "I Spy" statement ("I spy with my little eye an orange orange") with a painting (John Frederick Peto, The Poor Man's Store) on the facing page.  You can extend it all sorts of ways, too:  after she finds what I'm spying, Milly asks me to look for something else in each painting; or we'll make up a story about what might happen next.  All the while, the kids (Leo likes to play, too) are familiarizing themselves with fine art and figuring out how to join the conversation about it.

Milly had a lot to say on Saturday at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.  We were just trying to escape from the heat at the Arts on Foot festival, but her interest in looking at and talking about particular paintings reminded me that we haven't visited the National Gallery with her, either.  At least not since she could talk.  We're already planning to visit later this month.

Of course, a visit to the art museum should always end at the museum gift shop, where you can purchase for small change a postcard of the painting (or whatever) you liked best.  I have a small collection of museum postcards that tends toward paintings of mothers and daughters; women reading, writing, or doing needlework; 15th c. portraits and Dutch interiors.  As Milly starts her own collection of art cards, I'm considering mounting them in a series of simple staple-bound books so we can play "I spy" with paintings that mean something special to her.

[I spy the Nonfiction Monday roundup at Picture Book of the Day!]