From Koala to "Ko-wall-a" at St. James in South Pasadena

Life imitates art, and, apparently, parish day schools imitate picture books.  At a recent visit to St. James in South Pasadena, a koala transformed into a "ko-wall-a" right before my very eyes.  The timing couldn't have been more perfect-- I had just finished reading Animal House to a wonderful group of kids.

Many thanks to Amy Jones for documenting this most amazing occurrence (and for helping make my visit equally amazing!)

The Picasso Picture Book Scale: The Art of Bullshifting and the State of the Contemporary Picture Book

Inspired by Picasso's Read Period, a growing preference for less bull in my own picture book writing, and recent discussions on the health and prognosis for picture books, I decided to create the "Picasso Picture Book Scale," subtitled "The Art of Bullshifting."

Based on Picasso's lithograph series from 1945 titled Le Taureau, I find it useful to imagine the spectrum of picture book lengths as analogous to Picasso's abstraction of the bull.

Am I just feeding you a cock-and-bull story? Absolutely not! Though I hope by the end to impart a little of what I've learned from the art of bullshifting.


Here's a run-down of the featured picture books:

Bull 11: Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey (1,149 words)
Bull 10: The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg (1,054 words)
Bull 9: Millions of Cats by Wanda Gág (965 words)
Bull 8: The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs by Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith (863 words)
Bull 7: The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson (737 words)
Bull 6: Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson (657 words)
Bull 5: The Relatives Came by Cynthia Rylant and Stephen Gammell (523 words)
Bull 4: Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans (418 words)
Bull 3: Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak (336 words)
Bull 2: The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle (221 words)
Bull 1: Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! by Mo Willems (161 words)


Picture book writers and readers can follow the genius of Picasso from "Bull 11" to "Bull 1," as he shifts from full bull to essential bull, from the corpulent to the core. By the way, don't you find it apropos that our token toro, Ferdinand, would settle his hind-quarters nearly two-quarters the way through the scale? (And never before or since has bullsitting been so provocative, or would that be provacative for my Spanish readers?).

Comparing Robert McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings (1,149) to Mo Willems's Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (161), we observe how different choices (both in word counts and art styles) made by different artists affect the stories they tell-- neither one intrinsically better than the other, but certainly revealing what each artist felt to be the best way to tell his story.

Peruse the "Picasso Picture Book Scale (PPBS)" and take stock of where most of your favorite picture books line-up. Are they all over the place? Do they stack up near "Bull 11," "Bull 7," or "Bull 4?" Do your tastes in art and music follow suit? Do you prefer realism, abstraction, or a balanced blend? Are you a "flesh and fur" lover? Or do you feel everything's in "the bones?"

One of the recent discussions on the ailing state of picture books cites brief texts as the main culprit-- what would appear on the PPBS as all bulls charging towards "Bull 1." In her School Library Journal article, Anita Silvey writes, "But in the picture book arena, the prevailing wisdom is to shackle writers and get them to be as creative as possible with very few words." She goes on further to state that, "...I’d have to argue that a basic diet of picture books with an anemic amount of text doesn’t really do the trick."

Gulp, those words are like a red rag to a bull for me, but I do understand Silvey's perspective and appreciate her boldness in sharing it. I'm of the persuasion, however, that the problem isn't inherently in the shortness of contemporary picture book texts, but rather in the crafting of those texts.

I think the Picture Book Proclaimers hit the bull's-eye with this statement: "Imitation, laziness, and timidity are poisoning a great art form." What more can I add? Life's just too short, folks, and my tolerance for shoddy art is even shorter.

This is a rallying cry for all of my comrades writing short picture book texts-- we must overcome the stigma of "less is less," when we know that "less is more." Occam's Razor has served many fields well, and ours should be no exception.

We should take the bull by the horns and work from the wisdom of Einstein's words, "Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler." So, it's okay if "Bull 1" is your target, just make sure you give it its requisite legs.

Minimal text should achieve essential meaning. The great haiku Masters have already paved the way. And so it is, I feel, that for the sustainability of shorter texts, the picture book writer must become more poet than storyteller the closer we move down the scale to "Bull 1."

For the writer of short picture book texts, sound and image overtake plot and character. The latter two elements shift more to the domain of the illustrator. The shorter the text, the harder each word has to work to elevate the writing. This is what poetry is all about-- working with constraints to create language as art.

And so I've made my stand-- I will remain bull-headed in my determination to write short picture book texts. I've moved from "Bull 7" with Animal House (752 words) to "Bull 1" with Ribbit Rabbit (158 words) and Moo Hoo (157 words), and I've found home. For me, it's all about the bones.

I know that I currently write for the five-and-under set. And I feel my greatest challenge is to intimate to children the beauty and complexity of our wondrous language. There are patterns as profound in language as any in nature, and I write to discover and share them.

I don't create according to the Duchess's words to Alice, "Take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves," but, rather, by the words Bruce Ross delivered in a paper to the 1986 meeting of the Modern Language Association, "Take care of the sounds, and the sense will take care of itself."

Let's honor the musicality of language and do right/write by our young audience. Put story to the service of sound and see if that doesn't take us homeward bound. No matter what, there's no room left anymore for bull-- unless it's the return of a bull market for picture books. Toro, toro!

Notes:

Titles selected based on this list compiled by Betsy Bird.

Word counts obtained from this website.

By the way, there's an amazing dearth of picture books with word counts in the 500s and 1000s. Who knew?

Oh, and if anyone sees dear ol' Ted driving from Springfield, Mass., to La Jolla, CA, could you please tell him that I left my sunglasses in his car? I'm blinded without him them.

Green Art Activity: ANIMAL HOUSE Furnimals from Reusable Materials

Are you in a school, a library, or even at home? Are you eager to make your very own "furnimals" based on Nathan Hale's amazing Animal House illustrations? Then look no further than your nearest recycling bin or trash can.

Chances are that you have everything you need to turn the above pile of reusable materials into...


...these adorable and loving literary companions.

The toucan of soda, cowch, and refrigergator were made by 3-5 year olds in Victoria Howard's incredible "Art & Stories" class at Barnsdall Junior Art Center last winter.



Mix a Pringles-like container with some stray buttons, construction paper scraps, and a piece of cardboard, and presto-change-o........you get a toucan of soda.



Shake together some loose buttons, a sheet of styrofoam, an empty soap bar-like box, felt scraps, construction paper pieces, and four corks to get a ....................... brand new cowch!



Don't forget to add the udder underneath. You need some way to be able to milk your cowch.



Gently toss some cute buttons, an Altoids-like metal container, a couple of corks, scrap pieces of felt, and left-over construction paper to get a handy-dandy new..................refrigergator.



Don't forget to stock your new refrigergator with yummy "food" buttons of all shapes and sizes.



So, the next time you see this (Note the pen-drawn reptilian scales on the empty applesauce-like container. Yes, it does look like a proto-skink)........................

.............try and turn it into this.

And the next time you empty a strawberry basket, can you imagine turning it into a chandeldeer? If so, I'd love to see a picture.

In the L.A. area and excited about creating green art activities for large numbers of kids? Check out Trash for Teaching, reDiscover, and CReATE STUDIO.

Random Acts of Publicity: Shout-Out to Merrily Kutner's Z IS FOR ZOMBIE

As part of Darcy Pattison's Random Acts of Publicity Week, I'm giving a well-deserved shout-out to friend Merrily Kutner's picture book Z Is for Zombie, illustrated by John Manders.

Selected as a "Read On Wisconsin!" book by that state's First Lady, Jessica Doyle, Z Is for Zombie will be read and discussed by elementary school students across Wisconsin during the month of October. Also, the book has recently been reissued in paperback by publisher Albert Whitman. Just in time for Halloween!

Light a spooky Halloween candle for Z Is for Zombie during the upcoming Banned Books Week. Back in 2002, the book was challenged in a library in Oregon for having "graphic illustrations inappropriate for young children." Fortunately, the book was retained and the freedom to read prevailed. (And now you're all going to have to get your hands on a copy to see what all the fuss was about!)

For more villainous verse sure to turn any reluctant reader into a bookworm, check out Merrily's The Zombie Nite Cafe, illustrated by Ethan Long. Looking for something a little less spooky? Try Merrily's "fuzzy bunny" book (as she calls it), Down on the Farm, illustrated by Will Hillenbrand.

Love picture books and want to learn how to write your own? Merrily is teaching an online course through UCLA Extension this fall. You can take it from anywhere in the world. Click here for more info.

Random Acts of Publicity: Book Review of Diane Browning's SIGNED, ABIAH ROSE

As part of Darcy Pattison's Random Acts of Publicity week, I'm spotlighting a friend's book, Signed, Abiah Rose. You can read more about my friend, author/illustrator Diane Browning, by clicking here.

Abiah speaks to anyone who's ever had to struggle to claim part of their identity.

Despite prevailing attitudes towards women in the 18th and 19th centuries, Abiah Rose perseveres in her conviction that art exists above any category that society can impose on it. With rich, folk art-inspired illustrations, author/illustrator Diane Browning crafts a fictional account of the likely history of many anonymous female artists from early America.

Conforming to social norms of the day, members of Abiah's family dissuade her from signing her own work. "Best not, Abiah Rose," they would tell her, "Serious painting is not girl's work." Instead, Abiah signs all of her work secretly, with a hidden rose on each canvas.

Guided only by her passion for painting, Abiah does everything she can within the constraints of her society to nuture her artist's spirit and take charge of her creative life. With sheer determination, Abiah sets a course for her life's path. The destination is the day she can write the following words, "Signed, Abiah Rose," upon the work of her own hands.

Whether or not Abiah, or others like her, ever arrived at that place of acceptance remains unknown. The fact does remain, however, that they helped make it easier for the rest of us to do so.

"52 Ways to Use Your Library Card" Challenge: #10 Hire Mr. Plumbean to Do an Extreme Home-Makeover

Taking the #13 spot on the ALA's "52 Ways to Use Your Library Card" list is: "Get new ideas for redecorating your house." With the combined forces of your library card and the imagination of Daniel Pinkwater, you could do wonders for your home.

Look no further than the picture book The Big Orange Splot. Inside is a wealth of home decorating ideas, all executed by design guru Mr. Plumbean (with a little assistance from a mysterious, paint-can-carrying seagull).

Incorporate some of these Plumbean design elements, and you can't go wrong:

*big orange splot
*little orange splots
*stripes
*elephants and lions
*pretty girls and steam shovels
*clock tower
*palm trees, baobabs, thorn bushes, onions, and frangipani
*hammock
*alligator
*nice, tall glass of cool lemonade

And this is just for your home's exterior! I hold out hope that Mr. Plumbean will invite us all inside his amazing home someday-- Inside the Big Orange Splot, if you will.

And Now Introducing RIBBIT RABBIT...(Hopping Into Bookstores 2/1/2011)

Jacket art copyright Mike Lowery

Didn't illustrator Mike Lowery knock it out of the park on the cuteness factor?

Here's a teaser from the back cover:

"Frog and Bunny are best friends.
Ribbit Rabbit. Rabbit Ribbit.

But what happens when they get in a fight?
Ribbit Rabbit. Yip it, yap it.

You'll have to read the book to find out!
Ribbit Rabbit. Grip it, grab it."

Dr. Seuss and Maurice Ravel: A Convergence of Crescendos

Dr. Seuss's first picture book, And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, showcases the visual imagination of Marco, the story's protagonist. What follows is a consideration of what Marco might have experienced had he indulged his aural imagination to the same extent.

What if the brass band on Mulberry Street had played Maurice Ravel's Bolero?

The entirety of this conjecture is based on an apparent convergence of forms in Dr. Seuss's Mulberry Street and Ravel's Bolero. Apropos of much, it all begins with rhythm.

Many of us in the kidlit community are familiar with the apocryphal-seeming, but true, story of Ted Geisel writing And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street to the chug of a ship's engine. In poetic lingo, Dr. Seuss interprets this seafaring sonic experience into a predominantly anapestic meter when crafting Marco's fantastic imaginings.

In the case of Ravel, he begins with the rhythm of the bolero, a Spanish dance form. From it, he spins a fifteen-minute long crescendo, sustained only by a masterful orchestration and the use of dynamics. The entire piece is anchored by the relentless rhythm of a basso ostinato, Ravel's equivalent of a chugging ship engine.

Interestingly enough, NPR music commentator Miles Hoffman notes in "Bolero's Industrious Nature" that, "Ravel said the pulsing, rhythmic composition was inspired by one of the factories he had visited with his father, who was an engineer."

Whether the inspiration springs from the mechanical music of a ship's engine, or that of an industrial factory, these two works rely on repetitive rhythmic structures as a foundation for their respective fireworks shows.

Formally, Mulberry Street can be seen as a visual crescendo. What Marco actually sees, a dull horse and cart, is transformed time and again into increasingly more exciting possibilities. From a zebra to a charioteer, to a reindeer, a sleigh, an elephant, a rajah, and so on, the images become "louder" and "louder," climaxing into a visual cacophony only Seuss could create.

In Dr. Seuss: An American Icon, kidlit scholar Philip Nel has this to say about the rhythm of Seuss's verse, "It aids in building up suspense, amplifying the outrageousness of the tall tale as it grows taller and taller."

And here's what composer/conductor Leonard Bernstein had to say about Ravel's Bolero on a Young People's Concert episode:

"It's just one long tune repeated over and over, with the orchestration changing on each repeat, gradually getting bigger and louder and richer, adding to itself, growing and growing until it finally ends in the biggest orchestral scream you ever heard."

When comparing Mulberry Street and Bolero in the most basic formal terms, both would appear to begin as whispers and end as roars. In works like these, tension and excitement are created by "amplifying the outrageousness." And before these works conclude, in the words of Leonard Bernstein again, "...you'll have heard all kinds of strange sounds, colors and combinations."

Bolero's "strange sounds" include, among others, a French horn, celesta, two piccolos, and a flute playing together to create a completely new instrumental timbre. Indeed, Ravel's innovative orchestration and his command of tonal color shine through as the crowning achievements of Bolero.

Mulberry Street's "strange sounds" are its strange sights, culminating in a virtual circus-parade block party, complete with confetti and police retinue.

Seuss colored word and image with the same genius that Ravel colored sound. In Mulberry Street and Bolero, the literal rhythms can be tapped, if not the metaphoric ones topped. In the modified words of Marco, "And that is a rhythm that no one can beat, and to think that I heard it on Mulberry Street."

Happy Birthday to My First Picture Book, ANIMAL HOUSE!!!!

What more can I say? I'm speechless................


Please join the Animal House wordplay antics going on right now at illustrator Nathan Hale's blog.

Visit the "My Books" page on my website to get your very own copy and to read reviews of the book. I'd especially love and appreciate your efforts to support independent bookstores when you support me. Thanks!!

Plus, you can have a chance at winning an autographed copy of Animal House on Goodreads by clicking here. The giveaway will run through the month of August. Good luck!!

Monsters and Miracles Family Day at the Skirball Part 3: Gerald McDermott

Did you know that Gerald McDermott is a rock star? Well, not technically, but more on that later...

Caldecott Award-winning author/illustrator Gerald McDermott shows the crowd what his early artistic attempts looked like, when he tried to draw things as he saw them. Such early efforts did not impress the young Gerald.

One day, he decided to try and draw things as he felt them. The above image demonstrates how Gerald learned to express a subject's energy and not just its form. Such results were far more pleasing to the young Gerald.

Mentored by Joseph Campbell, Gerald McDermott is widely-acclaimed for exploring myth and folklore in his children's books. Here, he shares a spirited reading of Raven: A Trickster Tale from the Pacific Northwest.Musician Aaron Nigel Smith joins Gerald for a grand finale rhythmic reading of Zomo the Rabbit: A Trickster Tale from West Africa. And now Gerald rocks on!

"Monsters and Miracles" Family Day at the Skirball Part 1: George McClements

Public Service Announcement: If you're in L.A. and still haven't checked out the "Monsters and Miracles" exhibit at the Skirball Cultural Center, do yourself a favor and go.

Today's "Monsters and Miracles" Family Day featured a celebration of local children's book authors and illustrators, including Gerald McDermott, Susan Goldman Rubin, Tao Nyeu, Erica Silverman, George McClements, Zach Shapiro, Alva Sachs, Patricia Krebs, and a musical performance from Aaron Nigel Smith.

I didn't get to see everything, but I'll share several blog posts worth stuff I did catch.

I'm still wondering why George McClements's publisher doesn't add "dinosaur wrangler" to his basic author/illustrator description. Probably because they'd have to pay him more. Well, it certainly doesn't mean that he wouldn't be earning every extra penny of it. Just look at what Milo, his blue dinosaur, puts him through.
I'm pretty sure that George's books come with extra special coatings to protect them from dino slobber.

In this picture, you can practically see the slobber dripping off the pages of Dinosaur Woods. I think some even got on George's hand.

I loved George's message: When you use shapes,

you can draw anything!

Milo gets a lot of "oooohs and aaaahs" from the crowd for his impressive circle. George had a hard time hiding his jealousy.

A Night of the Veggie Monster interlude. Check out them peas. I'm sure it's enough to give many a kid a culinary coronary. Wow!!!!!George drawing Milo.Milo surveying George's work.

Milo thinks he can do it better.

A hardcore contingent of Milo fans in the audience agrees. Poor George musters everything he can to hide the green monster while holding the blue one.

To be continued...

The 2010 Los Angeles Times Festival of Books Déjà Vu/ Déjà View, or How Dueling Jarrett Krosoczkas Support the Existence of Parallel Universes

I've been reeling since my recent discovery concerning the nature of the universe. As might be expected, this paradigm-shifting discovery has brought on a bad case of existential crisis mixed with a touch of post-nasal drip.

Previously, many of my afternoons had been spent managing my citrus-colored minions, as they painstakingly built a stylish, Sputnik-like craft designed to seek out and prove the existence of parallel universes. No more. For the humble book festival in my own backyard has changed Everything, with a capital "e."

And here's the man around whom the fabric of space-time tore like a cheap picture book in a toddler's mouth-- Jarrett Krosoczka.

Here's a picture of Jarrett channeling his awesomeness. This doesn't take but a few seconds, by the way, for Mr. K is very extremely awesome (just ask my son, a big Lunch Lady fan).

Nobel prize-winning scientists, with whom I've consulted, believe that it was during this very awesomeness-channeling moment when life as we know it changed forever.

According to extensive data sheets, this change began on 4/25/09 (the date Jarrett Krosoczka first appeared at the L.A. Times Festival of Books) and erupted into total systemic googolotronic breakdown on 4/24/10 (the date of Jarrett's second L.A. Times Festival of Books appearance).

For a brief period between those two points in time, Universe A212 and Universe BN89 existed simultaneously on the same space-time continuum. And, yes, blog readers, I was there to capture every quantum-physics-tickling moment of it.


Universe A212 Jarrett does battle with Universe BN89 Jarrett to see who can draw the better Lunch Lady. Methinks it's a "draw," but I wouldn't want to get between two space-time bending doppelgangers, would you?

Universe BN89 Jarrett points to his face, insisting that he was the first Jarrett to come up with the clever Q-styled "mole communicator" for the Lunch Lady's sidekick/assistant, Betty.

The dueling doppelgangers challenge each other to a "Betty's gadgets" draw-off. I think I have to give it to the Universe A212 Jarrett this time. He got those totally tubular fishstick nunchucks in there.

Now let's follow the Jarretts through a reading of Punk Farm. Universe A212 Jarrett is thoughtful enough to let the other Jarrett go first.

They're going strong.

The battle rages on...

A high pitch frequency pulses through the UCLA campus, signaling the disentangling of Universe A212 from Universe BN89. In the next nano-second, the two Jarretts will be individuated again and free to return to their respective universes. They have finished making history.

And they all lived happily ever after. Feel free to rock on with your bad selves, a la Jarrett.

P.S. Even though there was only one picture book panel at the whole festival (can we change this, folks? While we're at it, how about book prizes for PB, MG, children's poetry, and children's graphic novels?), it was super rad. Hats off to Sonja Bolle for moderating a hilarious discussion with Kadir Nelson, David Shannon, and Pam Munoz Ryan.