Friday, August 31st, 2012
Special thanks to Jennifer Frances of Bess the Book Bus for providing these photos
Hot Rod Hamster's New Friends
There isn't a lot that I need to write about pictures like these. I can only say there's nothing quite like a child connecting with a book in a deep and meaningful way.
As authors and illustrators, we have no way of knowing how our stories and pictures will be received by readers. We put everything into them we can. We pour our hearts and souls into every word, every character and every detail, making them the very best we can make them. And then we can only hope that little magical moments like these occur in the world. They do occur.
I'm so lucky that I get to do what I do.
Friday, August 24th, 2012
STOP!
The summer is slipping away!
Don't forget to take a little time to enjoy it...
Friday, August 17th, 2012
The Artist's Life
~ Part Three ~
Here and Now
When you make your living creating, constant experimentation is a way of life. You have to continually stretch yourself to keep your work fresh and interesting. Work that appears in books has a particular satisfaction to it. Making a book is like creating a puzzle one piece at a time. It won't be complete until you've created each and every piece and they all fit together precisely. I love making books, but it's not the only artwork I do. Artwork that isn't bound by the constraints of a story or subjected to editorial direction is an opportunity to explore new ideas and be free.
New work almost always begins in my sketchbook. Some sketches will remain just that- they will never be finished off in paint. Some get explored for days, weeks or months until the approach or character feels right. And some are very spontaneous. I may get an idea and take it straight to paint.
All of my personal work seems to be explorations of something- an idea, a belief or even just a question. Art is an amazing tool. It allows an individual to explore his own soul. I want to share a few recent paintings I've done. None were created for books, they're small curiosities that I needed to create for myself.
"Wisdom of the Ancestors" Acrylic on paper, 2009-2010
My "Deciduous" series of paintings began with the idea that we all began somewhere. Our ancestries are often referred to as "family trees." I love the character and expression in trees. After doing the first painting "Wisdom of the Ancestors," I thought a lot about trees. While we spend our lives busily coming and going freely, a tree stands in one place for a lifetime. He stands there through long winters, in the heat of the summer sun and the dark of night. A tree has a life, just as we do, growing and changing with the seasons. Tragedies and triumphs occur all around him, but he never once takes a step- he'll spend his entire life standing in that one place.
"The Joy Ride" Acrylic on paper, 2010
After finishing that initial painting, I decided to set the tree free and see where he wanted to go. Trees, it turns out, are as interested in adventure as the rest of us. "The Joy Ride" was something I hadn't really anticipated. It was one of those paintings that just happened naturally. I've done something like ten paintings in the series now and I'm continually surprised by the evolution of the pieces and where they take me.
"Swine Flu" Acrylic on paper, 2010
In 2009 I came down with an awful bout of H1N1, better known as "Swine Flu." Believe me, I didn't get it from kissing piggies. It was certainly nothing to laugh at. It began with a little fever and cough and within two days, I had pneumonia, scary-high fevers and migraines so severe I was unable to speak. It lasted for nearly two weeks. It's the sickest I can ever remember being in my lifetime and I began to wonder if I was going to get out of it. I eventually ended up in the emergency room and fortunately, things took a lucky turn. I owe a lot to my doctor, Sam, and his nurse, Carol. I don't know that I would still be here without their care. I did the painting "Swine Flu" in the wake of that awful illness. For as bad as this poor little pig looks, he doesn't look half as bad as I felt.
"Starting Over" Acrylic on paper, 2012
A time comes in every artist's life when you have to put your old work behind you and strike out in a new direction. To really be creative, you have to go where you've never been. Many artists have talked about this process, but Picasso said it best, "Every act of creation is first an act of destruction." I never really understood or embraced that idea when I was younger. I now hold it to be a truth. I don't know how I can explain it any better except to say this- to truly create a new way of doing things, you have to destroy how you did it before. It could be a way of painting, how you draw or write, or even how you think about something. It's a personal discovery that suddenly eclipses everything you thought you knew and opens your eyes wider than they've ever been opened before. In the picture "Starting Over" I show a character literally painting over a wall and all the pictures hanging on it. He's returning the page to white. It's an autobiographical piece- on the wall you'll see a chair picture from my chair series and a moon (another common theme that has appeared in my work over the years). We all want a fresh start now and then. I love the idea of going back to the beginning of it all where the possibilities are endless. Things are only going to get more interesting from here.
Friday, August 10th, 2012
"Alive" Graphite on paper, 1988
The Artist's Life
~ Part Two ~
Before there was Paint... there were Chairs
I didn't start out as a painter. In fact, I didn't take my first painting class until my sophomore year in college. I grew up knowing I would tell stories with words and pictures, I just didn't know what form that would take. I always believed I would become a syndicated cartoonist, I even drew a comic strip for the school paper in college. But it was in my beginning drawing classes at Iowa State University that my work began to blossom. I discovered a natural underlying narrative in my artwork and depth I didn't know I was capable of. I learned I could do more than draw cartoon characters with black ink. I could create entire worlds.
The chair drawings came first. We were asked by our instructor to choose a family heirloom and do a series of drawings around it. I chose my great-grandmother's chairs. Though she'd passed away many years before, my great-grandmother, Berdelia, had owned a set of chairs that I'd always loved. My first two or three drawings in the series were pretty straight forward. They turned out fine, but the drawings were lacking something. And then I found the missing ingredient- the imagination. I brought the chair to life... and found an exciting new direction in my work.
My first painting classes weren't all that successful. That transition from pencil to paintbrush isn't an easy one. A pencil or pen is precise. You have to let go of that control when you pick up a brush. Painting is a whole different animal that isn't easy to tame. The painting surface, the paint and even the brushes can have minds of their own. As a painter, you have to learn to manipulate those elements and make them work to your advantage. It takes a lot of practice. And that control you let go of in the beginning slowly pays off. You harness the beast and learn a new form of control- one where unexpected things can happen. They're things you learn to welcome. In painting we call them "happy accidents." The brush or color might do something that's completely unintentional and if I like it, I will adopt it as my own and begin to use that effect in my work.
"The Adventures of Flanders & Goodbody" Oil on canvas, 1988
"The Adventures of Flanders and Goodbody" was an interesting picture for me. It was the first time I began to achieve the effects I was after in paint. There's a point, as a painter, where you begin controlling the paint instead of letting it control you. I discovered these crazy characters by accident and liked them so much that I used them in a whole series of paintings.
The work an artist makes over the course of a life has to be valued not only for what it is, but where it leads you. These pieces were stepping stones for me. I did them when I was 18 or 19. When I look at them now, I see a young artist who's fearlessly experimenting in not only color, form and technique, but ideas. I'm glad he was so bold and unafraid of making mistakes. I wouldn't be doing the work I am today if that young, inexperienced artist hadn't been so willing to explore all of the possibilities back then.
Friday, August 3rd, 2012
The inscription in the upper left corner, written by school principal, Tom Berhow, reads:
This picture by Derek Anderson
was displayed in the Principal's
Office-- 1975
Tom Berhow, Prin
The Artist's Life
~ Part One ~
In the Beginning
I knew pretty early on what I wanted to do with my life. I know how rare that is, but it happened by accident.
When I was in kindergarten, I drew the first picture I can ever remember drawing. I'm sure there were other drawings that came before, but this was the first time I set out to draw something and the picture ended up looking like what I set out to draw. It was a picture of the Easter Bunny with carrots standing on end like bright orange trees, a black bunny hole and a piece of construction paper cut out and pasted on for the bunny's tail. It was a masterpiece... or as close to one as I could make at the time. I was so proud of it, I had to give it to the most important person I could think of, so I took it down to the Roosevelt Elementary School office and presented it to the principal of my school.
That principal, Tom Berhow, accepted my drawing with enthusiasm and hung it on his office wall for the rest of the school year. I wish I could tell you what that simple act did for me. It wasn't an extraordinary drawing, but there was something very honest in it. Maybe that's what Mr. Berhow saw. Or maybe he saw the spark in a six-year-old's eye. I can't answer that. What I can tell you is that was all it took. From then on, I knew I would be an artist.
Is talent innate or is it something that's developed over time? Would I even be an artist today if Mr. Berhow had said, "Yeah, yeah, nice drawing, kid. I have calls to make." Would I have found my way in art anyway or was it someone else's belief in me that gave me the confidence to believe in myself? I don't know. What I can tell you is I believe in passion. It's what drove me then and what continues to drive me today. If you have two children side by side and one is unbelievably talented, but not particularly driven, and another that isn't nearly as talented, but filled with passion and driven, I will bet on the passionate kid every day of the week. Talent will rise to meet passion. Skills can be developed, I'm not so sure passion can. It's fuel in the tank of creativity. It's what drives us to reach for things beyond our grasp. It makes us want to be the very best at whatever it is we choose to do.
I doubt Mr. Berhow remembered hanging up that crayon drawing later in his life. It was a brief moment in the busy life of a school principal. But I've never forgotten it. I wish I could tell him what that meant to me. Mr. Berhow passed away a few short months before my first book was published. I think he'd be proud.
