Hello friends and readers! My blog is now incorporated into my new website. You can reach it by clicking the "Home" tab and clicking blog, or by clicking this link. Now you can view my portfolio, info on my retail shows, my press, and my blog all in one site.
I won't be updating Hans-My-Hedgehog Blog anymore, so please visit this new site.
http://www.hansmyhedgehog.com/blog.html
Thanks for all of your comments, and I hope to see you at hansmyhedgehog.com.
Love,
Jessica
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
To see the world in color
I used to work only in color, except when sketching. I made my whole
senior thesis project in colored pencil and loved experimenting with
those luscious hues, mapping out images around the colors I could use.
But I could never find a paper that wouldn't buckle under the weight of
the layers of wax I applied to the paper. I would make the paper truly
work for it, and it really could not handle it. The result was rippling
over time that would cause an unsightly sheen on the paper when I
scanned it.
I remember speaking to a professional colored pencil artist who had written a book on the subject. She told me that if the paper rippled, I was drawing incorrectly. ??? Why not simply suggest my paper was too lightweight? Though it had the proper tooth, at 80lbs, it was simply too light.
So I turned to black and white. And then, I fell in love with it. I loved its rich chiaroscuro. The tricks I could play with the pencil tickled me endlessly. But after an entire black and white portfolio and two years without color, I need to get back to color, for my own good and for my professional good.
I am not a great painter. I paint with difficulty and without pleasure. I have endless patience for rendering with pencils but very little for letting paint dry. And I do not like the lack of control I have with it. My goal is to become friendly with watercolor this year, but for now, well, I chickened out again.
But in preparation for watercolor I purchased some Arches Hot Press paper, having been told that I could layer pencil on top of its smooth surface after watercolor had been applied. In a happy accident I found that it accepted layers upon layers of colored pencil (I use Prismacolor) like a dream. And I was amazed to find that the paper was so heavy (150 lb) that it would also accept pencil on top of that...and not just pencil, but any type of pencil I threw at it, from 4H to 6B. Better still, the heavy paper felt like velvet to draw on and did not ripple at all. After all of these years, I found my answer to colored pencil.
In this color experiment, I have used color but not blacks (except for grey pencils in the wolf). All of alteration of the tone was done with pencils. How close in color this is to the original, or how it will show up on other monitors, I can't say. It looks pretty close on my monitor.
I remember speaking to a professional colored pencil artist who had written a book on the subject. She told me that if the paper rippled, I was drawing incorrectly. ??? Why not simply suggest my paper was too lightweight? Though it had the proper tooth, at 80lbs, it was simply too light.
So I turned to black and white. And then, I fell in love with it. I loved its rich chiaroscuro. The tricks I could play with the pencil tickled me endlessly. But after an entire black and white portfolio and two years without color, I need to get back to color, for my own good and for my professional good.
I am not a great painter. I paint with difficulty and without pleasure. I have endless patience for rendering with pencils but very little for letting paint dry. And I do not like the lack of control I have with it. My goal is to become friendly with watercolor this year, but for now, well, I chickened out again.
But in preparation for watercolor I purchased some Arches Hot Press paper, having been told that I could layer pencil on top of its smooth surface after watercolor had been applied. In a happy accident I found that it accepted layers upon layers of colored pencil (I use Prismacolor) like a dream. And I was amazed to find that the paper was so heavy (150 lb) that it would also accept pencil on top of that...and not just pencil, but any type of pencil I threw at it, from 4H to 6B. Better still, the heavy paper felt like velvet to draw on and did not ripple at all. After all of these years, I found my answer to colored pencil.
In this color experiment, I have used color but not blacks (except for grey pencils in the wolf). All of alteration of the tone was done with pencils. How close in color this is to the original, or how it will show up on other monitors, I can't say. It looks pretty close on my monitor.
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| "Red and the Wolf" Prismacolor and pencil. Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
Sunday, January 27, 2013
"When will you make an end of it?"
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| "End page" pencil. Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
What's in a Name?
Prepping my portfolio for the SCBWI conference has been a lot of fun,
but time constraints have prevented me from completing what I would
consider the ideal set of work. Last semester's retail shows,
commissions, and teaching (and grading!) obligations sucked a lot of the
time I had set aside for portfolio development. If I had another two
or three months, the portfolio would look different than it will when I
drop it off for the portfolio review at the start of February. As
it is, January has been a blur. It's been many, many very late nights
in the studio. One more tiny drawing to complete, and it's out of my
hands for now.
One of the requirements for the portfolio is a given: include your name. I decided (not uniquely) to make a title page for the portfolio, but that was not as easy as it seemed at first. In fact, it took me five tries. I wanted it to jive with the rest of the work, but be unique on its own. I read online on an artist's blog that a good way to have people remember you is to have your title page match up with your business card and your postcard. Uh oh...I already had printed the latter two and they were not related.
My new business card for www.jessicaboehman.com looks like this:
While the postcard is my Little Women illustration:
I began to despair. They are not similar at all. It surprisingly took
me a few minutes to figure out that there was a link. Look closer at the
Little Women illustration:
The light bulb went on. You see, it's a faulty switch now that I am
getting so little sleep. Realizing that hippocamps were the common
thread, I knew I had to go in that direction. I wanted to use a
decorative border to match up with several of the pieces inside the
portfolio, but the border of my hippocamp drawing already made use of a
sea theme. I decided on a garden theme instead (who wouldn't want a
hippocamp in their garden?).
Here it is in progress. You can see how the left half is rendered while the right half is a line drawing:
Voila! The completed title page.
One of the requirements for the portfolio is a given: include your name. I decided (not uniquely) to make a title page for the portfolio, but that was not as easy as it seemed at first. In fact, it took me five tries. I wanted it to jive with the rest of the work, but be unique on its own. I read online on an artist's blog that a good way to have people remember you is to have your title page match up with your business card and your postcard. Uh oh...I already had printed the latter two and they were not related.
My new business card for www.jessicaboehman.com looks like this:
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| Add caption |
Here it is in progress. You can see how the left half is rendered while the right half is a line drawing:
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| "Title Page" pencil Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
A Day in Central Park
I have been planning a Three Billy Goats Gruff picture for
about five years, since I lived in Philadelphia. I still have all of the
original sketches, which show some of my original ideas about the work.
After moving to NYC, my husband and I spent a lot of time in Central Park. It's the one place in the city, thanks to the century-old efforts of Frederick Law Olmsted, where it seems like monsters could actually exist. A few months ago I came upon the plan to make the Central Park troll, using the bridge we most commonly used, on the south-eastern border of the Park. Here's the final result!As you can see, my troll has stayed the same, but now he is a true bridge troll, living in the bridge's shade, and none too happy about it.
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| "The Gruff Family Picnic" Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
A Time to Weep
Last year I made my first illustration of The Goose Girl (click here). I return again to the theme while prepping my portfolio for the SCBWI conference. For those unfamiliar with the story, The Goose Girl is
the dark and sorrowful Grimm fairytale about a princess who, on her way
to be wed, is cast down from her position by her handmaiden and must
live as the girl who tends the geese. In order to ensure silence, the
handmaid-turned-princess kills the princess' horse, Falada, severing its
head and hanging it at the town gate. But the horse had been
enchanted; in life it could speak, and in death it continued to talk to
the lowly goose girl as she exited town with her flock.
'Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath this gateway, she said in passing, "Alas, Falada, hanging there!" Then the head answered, "Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew, Her heart would surely break in two."'
The end of 2012 and the start of 2013 has not been gentle. It's been a true time of sorrow in our family, with tragedy and another threat of loss looming on the horizon. It's been a time for tears. This made this artwork particularly difficult to draw, as it did nothing to lighten the mood of the house. Even so, I think my sadness helped me to understand the pain of the Goose Girl as she caresses Falada as he hangs there on the town gate.
'Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath this gateway, she said in passing, "Alas, Falada, hanging there!" Then the head answered, "Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew, Her heart would surely break in two."'
The end of 2012 and the start of 2013 has not been gentle. It's been a true time of sorrow in our family, with tragedy and another threat of loss looming on the horizon. It's been a time for tears. This made this artwork particularly difficult to draw, as it did nothing to lighten the mood of the house. Even so, I think my sadness helped me to understand the pain of the Goose Girl as she caresses Falada as he hangs there on the town gate.
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| "Alas, Falada, hanging there!" Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Margot vs. the Squid
At that moment, the great Squid rose out of the sea.
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| "Margot vs. the Squid" Pencil Copyright 2013 Jessica Boehman |
Friday, December 14, 2012
The Tomie dePaola Illustration Competition
This year I joined the Society for Children's Books Writers and
Illustrators for the first time. Working toward the goal of the
portfolio review at the conference will be a strong incentive for me in
the month I have off from teaching. I was especially excited to enter
into the annual illustration competition, run by the author and
illustrator Tomie de Paola, of Strega Nona
fame. We always loved the Strega Nona (Grandma Witch) books,
especially as my mother's family is Calabrian. The stories hit home.
The chance for Tomie to see my work, even if I don't win, was too great
to pass up.
This year's challenge was a black and white challenge, perfect for my current line of work. We were to present an illustration of a passage from Little Women, Tom Sawyer, or The Yearling, paired with its corresponding passage. We were only allowed one page, not a spread. For a challenge I picked Little Women. I re-read the book. There are many lovely, romantic passages, like the proposals of Laurie or the Professor. Some are sweet, like Beth sitting in the lap of Mr. Laurence, kissing his cheek to thank him for the piano. Some are sad, like Beth lying in her sister Jo's lap at the beach when she admits she is dying. Still others are nearly neoclassical: picture Amy sketching a rogue Laurie in Marseilles as he smokes a cigarette, backed by statuary.
But one passage stood out. The girls are talking about their castles in the sky: where and how they could live if all of their fancies ring true. Laurie talks of living in Austria and playing music. Beth desires to stay home (something that comes true). Meg wants to live in a rich home (she marries a poor man for love), while Amy desires to travel to Rome (she does) to become the best artist living (she abandons that dream).
Jo, however, dreams of writing. She pictures the wonder that will come from her magic inkstand in rooms piled high with books. So that's where I took my inspiration!
Mr. de Paola, I know you will never see this post. However, it was a real honor to show you my work, and I hope it made you smile. Your work certainly did.
This year's challenge was a black and white challenge, perfect for my current line of work. We were to present an illustration of a passage from Little Women, Tom Sawyer, or The Yearling, paired with its corresponding passage. We were only allowed one page, not a spread. For a challenge I picked Little Women. I re-read the book. There are many lovely, romantic passages, like the proposals of Laurie or the Professor. Some are sweet, like Beth sitting in the lap of Mr. Laurence, kissing his cheek to thank him for the piano. Some are sad, like Beth lying in her sister Jo's lap at the beach when she admits she is dying. Still others are nearly neoclassical: picture Amy sketching a rogue Laurie in Marseilles as he smokes a cigarette, backed by statuary.
But one passage stood out. The girls are talking about their castles in the sky: where and how they could live if all of their fancies ring true. Laurie talks of living in Austria and playing music. Beth desires to stay home (something that comes true). Meg wants to live in a rich home (she marries a poor man for love), while Amy desires to travel to Rome (she does) to become the best artist living (she abandons that dream).
Jo, however, dreams of writing. She pictures the wonder that will come from her magic inkstand in rooms piled high with books. So that's where I took my inspiration!
Mr. de Paola, I know you will never see this post. However, it was a real honor to show you my work, and I hope it made you smile. Your work certainly did.
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| "Jo's Castle in the Sky" Pencil Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
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| "Jo's Castle in the Sky" Pencil Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Not a Creature was Stirring
...not even a mouse.
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| "Merry Christmas, Mouse!" Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Monday, November 12, 2012
Of Heroes and Beasts
The fourth installment in the "Beasts in Books" series had to be the
Centaur. I conceived of him, fully-grown, in my mind, in appropriate
mythological fashion. He rested and matured in my mind while I worked
on another commission.
Having just finished Madeline Miller's "The Song of Achilles," I was inspired to draw the centaur. She writes the centaur Chiron so elegantly. In Greek culture, centaurs have generally suffered from a bad reputation, known chiefly for their lusty and destructive tendencies, due to the fact that they are half-man half-horse. In art, you may find them most famously on the Parthenon reliefs, where they battle the tribe of Lapiths. However, a few centaurs stand out as more man than beast: Pholus and Chiron.
I took as my inspiration the most famous of the centaurs: Chiron. Son of the titan Cronus and a cloud goddess, Chiron was tutored by Artemis (virgin goddess of the hunt) and her brother Apollo (god of the sun, the hunt, poetry, and medicine), learning at their hands to hunt, to play, and to heal. He tutored most of the heroes of ancient mythology, including Achilles, Hercules, Jason, and Actaeon on the heights of Mt. Pelion.
I took as another point of inspiration Ovid's Fasti, Book V, May 3, which tells of Chiron's accidental death from the hydra-poisoned spear of Hercules, in the company of both Hercules and the young Achilles:
"In less than four nights, Chiron, the semi-human
Joined to the body of a tawny horse, reveals his stars.
Pelion is a mountain facing south in Haemonian Thessaly:
The summit’s green with pines, the rest is oak.
Chiron, Philyra’s son, lived there. An ancient rocky cave
Remains, inhabited once, they say, by that honest old one.
He’s thought to have exercised those hands, that one day
Sent Hector to his death, in playing on the lyre.
Hercules visited him, most of his labours done,
Only the last few tasks remaining for the hero.
You could have viewed Troy’s twin fates, together:
One the young scion of Aeacus, the other Jove’s son.
Chiron received young Hercules hospitably,
And asked him the reason for his being there.
He replied, as Chiron viewed his club and lion-skin, saying:
‘The man is worthy of these weapons, the weapons of the man!’
Nor could Achilles, daringly, restrain his hands,
From touching that pelt shaggy with bristles.
While the old one handled the arrows, encrusted with poison,
A shaft fell from the quiver and lodged in his left foot.
Chiron groaned, and drew its blade from his body:
Hercules, and the Thessalian youth groaned too.
Though the Centaur himself mixed herbs culled
From Pagasean hills, treating the wound with ointments,
The gnawing venom defied his remedies, and its evil
Penetrated his body, to the marrow of his bones.
The blood of the Lernean Hydra fused with
The Centaur’s blood, giving no chance for aid.
Achilles, drenched in tears, stood before him as before
A father, just as he would have wept for Peleus dying.
Often he caressed the feeble fingers with loving hands,
(The teacher had his reward for the character he’d formed),
And he kissed him, often, and often, as he lay there, cried:
‘Live, I beg you: don’t leave me, dear father!’
The ninth day came, and you, virtuous Chiron,
Wrapped your body in those fourteen stars."
On May 5 and 6, Ovid discusses the constellations Centaurus and Scorpio; one appears to be shooting the other. In the drawing, I've added the Ovid in its original Latin. The border contains a pattern commonly found on Greek pottery, and in the corners, in Greek red figure pottery style, are the centaur shooting at the scorpion, to match their constellations in the spring night sky. Below are two of Chiron's students: Hercules, with club and lion skin, and Achilles, armored as we would see him in the Trojan War. Chiron himself, in the body of the artwork, is how I imagined him, with long horse ears and a mane in place of hair. His eyes are dark like a horse's. He wields a bow but it is not notched with an arrow; I imagine him at the hunt on the heights of Pelion.
Having just finished Madeline Miller's "The Song of Achilles," I was inspired to draw the centaur. She writes the centaur Chiron so elegantly. In Greek culture, centaurs have generally suffered from a bad reputation, known chiefly for their lusty and destructive tendencies, due to the fact that they are half-man half-horse. In art, you may find them most famously on the Parthenon reliefs, where they battle the tribe of Lapiths. However, a few centaurs stand out as more man than beast: Pholus and Chiron.
I took as my inspiration the most famous of the centaurs: Chiron. Son of the titan Cronus and a cloud goddess, Chiron was tutored by Artemis (virgin goddess of the hunt) and her brother Apollo (god of the sun, the hunt, poetry, and medicine), learning at their hands to hunt, to play, and to heal. He tutored most of the heroes of ancient mythology, including Achilles, Hercules, Jason, and Actaeon on the heights of Mt. Pelion.
I took as another point of inspiration Ovid's Fasti, Book V, May 3, which tells of Chiron's accidental death from the hydra-poisoned spear of Hercules, in the company of both Hercules and the young Achilles:
"In less than four nights, Chiron, the semi-human
Joined to the body of a tawny horse, reveals his stars.
Pelion is a mountain facing south in Haemonian Thessaly:
The summit’s green with pines, the rest is oak.
Chiron, Philyra’s son, lived there. An ancient rocky cave
Remains, inhabited once, they say, by that honest old one.
He’s thought to have exercised those hands, that one day
Sent Hector to his death, in playing on the lyre.
Hercules visited him, most of his labours done,
Only the last few tasks remaining for the hero.
You could have viewed Troy’s twin fates, together:
One the young scion of Aeacus, the other Jove’s son.
Chiron received young Hercules hospitably,
And asked him the reason for his being there.
He replied, as Chiron viewed his club and lion-skin, saying:
‘The man is worthy of these weapons, the weapons of the man!’
Nor could Achilles, daringly, restrain his hands,
From touching that pelt shaggy with bristles.
While the old one handled the arrows, encrusted with poison,
A shaft fell from the quiver and lodged in his left foot.
Chiron groaned, and drew its blade from his body:
Hercules, and the Thessalian youth groaned too.
Though the Centaur himself mixed herbs culled
From Pagasean hills, treating the wound with ointments,
The gnawing venom defied his remedies, and its evil
Penetrated his body, to the marrow of his bones.
The blood of the Lernean Hydra fused with
The Centaur’s blood, giving no chance for aid.
Achilles, drenched in tears, stood before him as before
A father, just as he would have wept for Peleus dying.
Often he caressed the feeble fingers with loving hands,
(The teacher had his reward for the character he’d formed),
And he kissed him, often, and often, as he lay there, cried:
‘Live, I beg you: don’t leave me, dear father!’
The ninth day came, and you, virtuous Chiron,
Wrapped your body in those fourteen stars."
On May 5 and 6, Ovid discusses the constellations Centaurus and Scorpio; one appears to be shooting the other. In the drawing, I've added the Ovid in its original Latin. The border contains a pattern commonly found on Greek pottery, and in the corners, in Greek red figure pottery style, are the centaur shooting at the scorpion, to match their constellations in the spring night sky. Below are two of Chiron's students: Hercules, with club and lion skin, and Achilles, armored as we would see him in the Trojan War. Chiron himself, in the body of the artwork, is how I imagined him, with long horse ears and a mane in place of hair. His eyes are dark like a horse's. He wields a bow but it is not notched with an arrow; I imagine him at the hunt on the heights of Pelion.
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| "The Centaur" 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Halloween and Hans at the Sheldon
My notecards have arrived at the University of Nebraska's Sheldon Museum of Art Museum Shop just in time for Halloween.
How I wish I could go shopping here. Clearly we are kindred spirits. I would purchase everything I see. Here are my Poe card and Halloween Hedgehog card amidst a lovely Halloween display:
The incredible thing is that my cards on the rack below are adjacent to an artist whose work hangs in my studio. It's an image of an angel who is gifting the world to an imaginative soul. I love the message. It made me cry when I saw it and my sister Amy bought it as a Christmas present for me. I read it every day. It makes me very happy to see that I am now sharing space with someone who inspires me.
How I wish I could go shopping here. Clearly we are kindred spirits. I would purchase everything I see. Here are my Poe card and Halloween Hedgehog card amidst a lovely Halloween display:
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| Gorgeous display of Halloween treats. Photo by Genevieve Ellerbee, Registrar Extraordinaire |
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| They are in such good company. Photo by Genevieve Ellerbee |
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| My Dancing Bear, Brementown Musicians, and Hedgehogs in Love. Photo by Genevieve Ellerbee |
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
Featured artist on Artsyshark.com!
Today I am the featured artist on artsyshark.com, a wonderful site run by Carolyn Edlund, the director of the Arts Business Institute. If you're an artist, you should sign up for email blasts from this site. It has so much helpful information for making a business out of your art.
Please check it out! I am very proud of this today, and I hope you enjoy it!
http://www.artsyshark.com/2012/10/08/featured-artist-jessica-boehman/
Please check it out! I am very proud of this today, and I hope you enjoy it!
http://www.artsyshark.com/2012/10/08/featured-artist-jessica-boehman/
Friday, October 5, 2012
A Great Horse Came Bounding out of the Sea
The third in my "Beasts in Books" series is the hippocampus, the Greek hybrid seahorse, with forequarters of a horse and hindquarters of a fish. The word derives from the Greek "hippos" (horse) and "kampos" (sea monster); its fantastical nature is therefore found in his very name. Pausanius says they are part whale, Philostratus says that they are akin to dolphins, while Homer claims they were golden-hooved.
What would a hippocampus look like? My first inclination was to make him with a fine coat from head to tail, like a seal. I could imagine them rolling and frolicking in the surf. But then again, I was imagining a cold water animal. The waters of the Aegean would not befit such a suit of hair. Would he be slick, like a dolphin? But then, we would lose his horse-like nature. I decided to make him a true mythological hybrid, with a fish's scales and tail, but muscular, so he could propel the chariots of Poseidon. I gave him a ridge of mane all the way down his back, in place of a dorsal fin. I kept his surroundings fantastical, flanking him with the real (octopodes and fishes) and the imaginary (mermaids).
His text draws from the Argonautica, the text from Apollonius Rhodius, a Hellenistic poet who wrote the story of Jason and the Argonauts. In this scene, the hippocampus rises from the surf and gallops away. His appearance is seen as an omen, and the men decide to carry the ship on their shoulders across the desert in the sea horse's wake. The speaker is Peleus, an Argonaut whose later fame came from his demigod hero son, Achilles:
"A great horse came bounding out of the sea, a monstrous animal, with his golden mane waving in the air. He shook himself, tossing off the spray in showers. Then, fast as the wind, he galloped away. Peleus was overjoyed and at once explained the portent to the others. `It is clear to me,’ he said, `that Poseidon’s loving wife has just unyoked his team. As for our mother, I take her to be none but the ship herself. Argo carried us in her womb; we have often heard her groaning in her pain. Now, we will carry her. We will hoist her on our shoulders, and never resting , never tiring, carry her across the sandy waste in the track of the galloping horse. He will not disappear inland. I am sure that his hoofprints will lead us to some bay that overlooks the sea."
What would a hippocampus look like? My first inclination was to make him with a fine coat from head to tail, like a seal. I could imagine them rolling and frolicking in the surf. But then again, I was imagining a cold water animal. The waters of the Aegean would not befit such a suit of hair. Would he be slick, like a dolphin? But then, we would lose his horse-like nature. I decided to make him a true mythological hybrid, with a fish's scales and tail, but muscular, so he could propel the chariots of Poseidon. I gave him a ridge of mane all the way down his back, in place of a dorsal fin. I kept his surroundings fantastical, flanking him with the real (octopodes and fishes) and the imaginary (mermaids).
His text draws from the Argonautica, the text from Apollonius Rhodius, a Hellenistic poet who wrote the story of Jason and the Argonauts. In this scene, the hippocampus rises from the surf and gallops away. His appearance is seen as an omen, and the men decide to carry the ship on their shoulders across the desert in the sea horse's wake. The speaker is Peleus, an Argonaut whose later fame came from his demigod hero son, Achilles:
"A great horse came bounding out of the sea, a monstrous animal, with his golden mane waving in the air. He shook himself, tossing off the spray in showers. Then, fast as the wind, he galloped away. Peleus was overjoyed and at once explained the portent to the others. `It is clear to me,’ he said, `that Poseidon’s loving wife has just unyoked his team. As for our mother, I take her to be none but the ship herself. Argo carried us in her womb; we have often heard her groaning in her pain. Now, we will carry her. We will hoist her on our shoulders, and never resting , never tiring, carry her across the sandy waste in the track of the galloping horse. He will not disappear inland. I am sure that his hoofprints will lead us to some bay that overlooks the sea."
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| "The Hippocampus" pencil. Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Monday, September 24, 2012
Of Virgins and Unicorns
Perhaps the most famous of the mythological beasts, save for the dragon, the unicorn (monoceros) has a long history dating back to antiquity, where he may be found in the writings of Aristotle, Aelian, Philostratus, and Pliny the Elder. In the eyes of the ancients, he was a hybrid animal like the ones that the Greeks and Romans were used to describing in their mythologies, even though this animal plays no real part in the lore of that culture. They describe him in fantastical terms, with the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the tail of a boar, and the feet of an elephant. And, of course, the single horn on its brow that identified him as the unicorn. One other detail remained, one that would persist throughout the rest of the unicorn's history: it could not be captured alive.
In the Middle Ages, the unicorn was a commonplace element in bestiaries that described real and imagined animals alike. In manuscripts, he is shown in a range of colors from brown to white to blue. He sometimes looks like a horse, at other times, a goat. Of course, the most famous image of him is held here in NYC, from the Cloisters Unicorn Tapestries. There, he is shown as a slight white horse tamed by a maiden.
The legend has it that only a virgin could tame the unicorn. This came down to us through the Physiologus bestiary: "He is a small animal, like a kid, but surprisingly fierce for his size, with one very sharp horn on his head, and no hunter is able to catch him by force. Yet there is a trick by which he is taken. Men lead a virgin to the place where he most resorts and leave her there alone. As soon as he sees this virgin he runs and lays his head in her lap. She strokes him and he falls asleep. The hunters then approach and capture him and lead him to the palace of the king."
The identification of the unicorn with Christ, white in his purity, able to only be tamed by the Virgin Mary, seems clear.
But thinking of what the unicorn of my imagination could have been like, I wondered about him and his tamer. Girls in this period were married very young, so in order for the tamer to be a virgin, she must have been just a child. What a horrible thing for a young girl to be used as the means to catch the elusive unicorn. Since many of the medieval images showed the unicorn as a goat, I wonder if he had some qualities of the goat. I made him slight and small, like a pony, and swift of foot, not so much larger than the child who would tame him. His cloven hooves make it easier for him to ascend rocky passages, where mounted hunters could not easily follow. His horn follows the twisting pattern of the narwhal horns (actually a tooth) that were sold as unicorn relics in Europe. In the border that surrounds him, I made a medieval-style unicorn hunt through the forest at night. Though the dogs and hunters close in on him, we know he will escape. There is no virgin to be found here, so our unicorn will win the day.
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| "The Unicorn" Pencil. Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Sunday, September 16, 2012
In this country be many Griffins
About fifteen months ago I was lying in my bed in the middle of the night. I wasn't sleeping well as I was recovering from my third abdominal surgery since I was a teenager. It's impossible to roll over due to the incisions (I sleep on my side) and my back was sore from being in one position. So I spent my time daydreaming, even though it was nighttime.
I imagined drawing a series of mythological beasts that looked realistic, and looked like they had been found within the pages of the books that described them. Did you ever wonder if these creatures were real and we've just forgotten them, or chose not to believe in them? If you consider mythology, it tells the stories of a culture that is defunct, or the stories of a religion in which you do not believe--but people once did believe. Is it possible, with some squinting of the eyes, that we could still see these creatures in the shadows of the forest? Is it possible to believe them back into being?
I can't pinpoint why the Griffin was the first on my list, the one that demanded attention from me. I like his long history, his roots in Egypt and Greece. In Egypt, old renditions associate griffins with the sun and with the lotus flower, so I've imbedded four lotuses within sun disks as a nod to his ancient heritage. I always imagine encountering such beasts nesting high up in dense forests; so I've filled his border with trees growing black feathers. The Egyptians, the Greeks (including Philostratus), the Italian writer Dante, and even the Persians wrote about griffins.
The text in the image below (yes, I've been playing on this concept recently), is from the middle ages. It's from a text of the fictional Sir John Mandeville, simply called The Travels of Sir John Mandeville. It reads:
-->
I imagined drawing a series of mythological beasts that looked realistic, and looked like they had been found within the pages of the books that described them. Did you ever wonder if these creatures were real and we've just forgotten them, or chose not to believe in them? If you consider mythology, it tells the stories of a culture that is defunct, or the stories of a religion in which you do not believe--but people once did believe. Is it possible, with some squinting of the eyes, that we could still see these creatures in the shadows of the forest? Is it possible to believe them back into being?
I can't pinpoint why the Griffin was the first on my list, the one that demanded attention from me. I like his long history, his roots in Egypt and Greece. In Egypt, old renditions associate griffins with the sun and with the lotus flower, so I've imbedded four lotuses within sun disks as a nod to his ancient heritage. I always imagine encountering such beasts nesting high up in dense forests; so I've filled his border with trees growing black feathers. The Egyptians, the Greeks (including Philostratus), the Italian writer Dante, and even the Persians wrote about griffins.
The text in the image below (yes, I've been playing on this concept recently), is from the middle ages. It's from a text of the fictional Sir John Mandeville, simply called The Travels of Sir John Mandeville. It reads:
-->
"In that country be many griffins, more plenty than in any other country. Some men say that they have the body upward as an eagle and beneath as a lion; and truly they say sooth, that they be of that shape. But one griffin hath the body more great and is more strong than eight lions, of such lions as be on this half, and more great and stronger than an hundred eagles such as we have amongst us. For one griffin there will bear, flying to his nest, a great horse, if he may find him at the point, or two oxen yoked together as they go at the plough. For he hath his talons so long and so large and great upon his feet, as though they were horns of great oxen or of bugles or of kine, so that men make cups of them to drink of. And of their ribs and of the pens of their wings, men make bows, full strong, to shoot with arrows and quarrels."
The text claims that Mandeville had traveled through the known world, from England, all the way through Europe to Northern Africa, Persia, and Turkey. He claims to have seen cotton plants that sprouted wooly lambs and goats:
If he believed in such wondrous plants, then the griffins of which he spoke must be real as well. I hope they are, somewhere out there.
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| "In this country be many Griffins" Pencil. Copyright 2012 Jessica M. Boehman |
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Quoth the Raven
..."Nevermore."
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| "Dreaming Dreams (An Ode to Poe)" Pencil and digital color. Copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Fantastic Mr. William Joyce
There are some days when my life seems truly blessed. There are many reasons why I would choose not to live in NYC. However, there are days when I'm really glad to be here, and this past Saturday was one of those days.
I was lucky enough to attend a book signing and talk with the author, illustrator, and filmmaker William Joyce at Books of Wonder in NYC. I've written about this little gem of a store many times; it continues to inspire me. Children's books authors and illustrators are my celebrities! If you haven't yet visited Joyce's website, please do so by clicking here. You'll love it.
Joyce has written and illustrated many books, including the Guardians of Childhood series, comprising "The Man in the Moon," "Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King," and "E. Aster Bunnymand and the Warrior Eggs at the Earth's Core!"
His new picture book, where he teamed with illustrator Joe Bluhm, is called "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore." It--and the Oscar-winning animated short of the same title--was the subject of his talk.
Joyce spent the bulk of his time talking about life in Louisiana in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. He told an anecdote about how he observed children in the hurricane shelters, crammed with thousands of people who had lost their homes, who were able to lose themselves "in the bubble" of their imaginations when reading books that he had passed out to them. This helped to inspire a portion of his book. It begins when Morris Lessmore, his beloved books, and even the words on the page of the book he writes, blows away in a Wizard of Oz-style storm that upends his home and leaves him in a black and white world. While no Wicked Witches were squashed below, below, below his home, and no yellow brick road appeared to show him the way, his wanderings led him to a young woman being carried aloft by books. Flying books. Flying books in color! He followed one particular book, a flip-book animation of Humpty Dumpty, to an old house filled with these books. Reading the books, getting immersed in a world of imagination, Morris turned to color after his world went black and white. The house he lived in had no computer (like Joyce), no internet, no hand-held games, not even a Kindle. Just books. Books that gave color to his world. And living there, he wrote his own book. He lived among and in the books, took care of them, shared them with others, until he was an old man. I won't give the ending away.
Little did I know that we would also be able to view the movie with Joyce and his colleague, the movie's director Brandon Oldenburg, also of Moonbot Studios, in attendance. It's a first for me: seeing an Oscar-winning film for the first time with the men who made it. How inspiring!
Of course I got a copy of the book signed for my inspiration collection. It's so great to be able to talk to the authors.
I asked if it were nerdy to want to pose with the author. He replied, "Yes, but that's ok!" I own that one. I am a children's literature nerd. Are you, too? Don't be afraid to admit it. Heck, embrace it! It means you have a verdant imagination and a healthy dose of innocence left. Those two things are still in short supply.
Even nerdier, but via proxy: here is my photo with a very accommodating Brandon Oldenburg. It's my geekfest photo for my little sister, an animation student at Rochester Institute of Technology.
The moral of the story (of my day): keep dreaming and think big. They thought and worked all the way to the Oscars, and won. Thanks for a cool afternoon, Mr. Joyce, and a healthy dose of imagination.
I was lucky enough to attend a book signing and talk with the author, illustrator, and filmmaker William Joyce at Books of Wonder in NYC. I've written about this little gem of a store many times; it continues to inspire me. Children's books authors and illustrators are my celebrities! If you haven't yet visited Joyce's website, please do so by clicking here. You'll love it.
Joyce has written and illustrated many books, including the Guardians of Childhood series, comprising "The Man in the Moon," "Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King," and "E. Aster Bunnymand and the Warrior Eggs at the Earth's Core!"
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| William Joyce, spread from "Man in the Moon" |
His new picture book, where he teamed with illustrator Joe Bluhm, is called "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore." It--and the Oscar-winning animated short of the same title--was the subject of his talk.
Joyce spent the bulk of his time talking about life in Louisiana in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. He told an anecdote about how he observed children in the hurricane shelters, crammed with thousands of people who had lost their homes, who were able to lose themselves "in the bubble" of their imaginations when reading books that he had passed out to them. This helped to inspire a portion of his book. It begins when Morris Lessmore, his beloved books, and even the words on the page of the book he writes, blows away in a Wizard of Oz-style storm that upends his home and leaves him in a black and white world. While no Wicked Witches were squashed below, below, below his home, and no yellow brick road appeared to show him the way, his wanderings led him to a young woman being carried aloft by books. Flying books. Flying books in color! He followed one particular book, a flip-book animation of Humpty Dumpty, to an old house filled with these books. Reading the books, getting immersed in a world of imagination, Morris turned to color after his world went black and white. The house he lived in had no computer (like Joyce), no internet, no hand-held games, not even a Kindle. Just books. Books that gave color to his world. And living there, he wrote his own book. He lived among and in the books, took care of them, shared them with others, until he was an old man. I won't give the ending away.
Little did I know that we would also be able to view the movie with Joyce and his colleague, the movie's director Brandon Oldenburg, also of Moonbot Studios, in attendance. It's a first for me: seeing an Oscar-winning film for the first time with the men who made it. How inspiring!
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| Screening of "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore". See Joyce at left. |
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| He drew the egg with a pen for me, because I told him I am an illustrator. |
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| Me and William Joyce. Amazing. Or, as my nephew would say, "Epicness!" Even cooler that a Trina S. Hyman and a Gennady Spirin book illustration are directly behind us. They are two of my favorites. |
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| Me and Brandon Oldenburg, posing with Joyce's "Dinosaur Bob" |
Friday, August 3, 2012
As Ugly as a Hedgehog
The story of Hans-My-Hedgehog has been the subject of a few posts here: one, which shows the grown half-man half-hedgehog Hans riding astride his rooster as king of the forest, (click here); the other, which is a self-portrait with said rooster and hedgehog (click here). Here is my second installment of Hans-My-Hedgehog, though really, it would be the first following the story's narrative.
As always, the Brothers Grimm version is grim indeed, focusing on the horror of the story. They look to the father instead of the mother. The father wishes for a son to help him in his old age, to be heir to his farm:
'Once upon a time there was a peasant who had money and land enough, but as rich as he was, there was still something missing from his happiness: He had no children with his wife. Often when he went to the city with the other peasants, they would mock him and ask him why he had no children. He finally became angry, and when he returned home, he said, "I will have a child, even if it is a hedgehog." Then his wife had a baby, and the top half was a hedgehog and the bottom half a boy. When she saw the baby, she was horrified and said, "Now see what you have wished upon us!"
The man said, "It cannot be helped. The boy must be baptized, but we cannot ask anyone to be his godfather." The woman said, "And the only name that we can give him is Hans-My-Hedgehog."'
But they miss the point of view of the mother; they did not understand that longing for a child that can run in a woman's blood.
Anthony Minghella's version comes closer to the truth:
'That woman wanted a bairn so bad she wouldn't care what she got. If she had a hedgehog, she'd bring its snout to her breast...No sooner said than done, she got her wish. No time at all, she has her boy, little ball as ugly as sin with a pointed nose and sprouting hair everywhere, a hedgehog baby with quills as soft as feathers."
One of my favorite renditions of this scene is by an illustrator named Ina, whose subtly-rendered drawings are filled with loving detail (click here). Ina shows the nursing mother with her gentle, beastly baby.
What would it be like to finally have that much-desired child, even if it were as ugly as a hedgehog? Would a mother truly scorn that child and make it sleep behind the stove? Or would the mother love that child as the darling of her heart, would she cuddle it and rock it and nurse it in the night? Would she heat milk for it and feed it to him and sing lullabies into his quills? What would you do? This is what I would do.
As always, the Brothers Grimm version is grim indeed, focusing on the horror of the story. They look to the father instead of the mother. The father wishes for a son to help him in his old age, to be heir to his farm:
'Once upon a time there was a peasant who had money and land enough, but as rich as he was, there was still something missing from his happiness: He had no children with his wife. Often when he went to the city with the other peasants, they would mock him and ask him why he had no children. He finally became angry, and when he returned home, he said, "I will have a child, even if it is a hedgehog." Then his wife had a baby, and the top half was a hedgehog and the bottom half a boy. When she saw the baby, she was horrified and said, "Now see what you have wished upon us!"
The man said, "It cannot be helped. The boy must be baptized, but we cannot ask anyone to be his godfather." The woman said, "And the only name that we can give him is Hans-My-Hedgehog."'
But they miss the point of view of the mother; they did not understand that longing for a child that can run in a woman's blood.
Anthony Minghella's version comes closer to the truth:
'That woman wanted a bairn so bad she wouldn't care what she got. If she had a hedgehog, she'd bring its snout to her breast...No sooner said than done, she got her wish. No time at all, she has her boy, little ball as ugly as sin with a pointed nose and sprouting hair everywhere, a hedgehog baby with quills as soft as feathers."
One of my favorite renditions of this scene is by an illustrator named Ina, whose subtly-rendered drawings are filled with loving detail (click here). Ina shows the nursing mother with her gentle, beastly baby.
What would it be like to finally have that much-desired child, even if it were as ugly as a hedgehog? Would a mother truly scorn that child and make it sleep behind the stove? Or would the mother love that child as the darling of her heart, would she cuddle it and rock it and nurse it in the night? Would she heat milk for it and feed it to him and sing lullabies into his quills? What would you do? This is what I would do.
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| "Rocking the Hedgehog Baby" Pencil. copyright 2012 Jessica Boehman |
Saturday, July 21, 2012
The Illustrated Woman
I just finished reading Ray Bradbury's "The Illustrated Man," a book I probably should have read years ago. The title story in this compilation is about a tattooed man whose life is dictated by the moving, morphing, future-telling images on his skin.
Though I have designed tattoos, I do not have any. I'm fickle. My tastes change. So I thought there must be a way I could wear my own art without permanence. Jewelry seems like a classier option than wearable tees or the like. It was my luck to become fast friends with a jeweler who likes my drawings as much as I like her jewelry!
Debbie Liu creates two lines of jewelry. The first, Bunnies Can Dream, is a line of colorful, whimsical jewelry with many hand-worked elements, like macrame (bunniescandream.etsy.com). The second is Harlequin & Lionhead, also named after her two rabbit breeds. This shop specializes in sculpted cast precious metal rings, earrings, bracelets, and pendants (www.harlequinlionhead.com). She recently had her first trunk show at Henri Bendel. Well, I was impressed.
I've known Deb for over a year now. We are actually relatively close neighbors in Queens. Some time ago we began planning a joint venture where tiny giclée prints would be embedded in pendants. This is a prototype, a two-sided pendant with two of my Delacorte clock illustrations: The Dancing Bear and the Penguin with Drum. The pendent is made with giclée prints embedded in resin and brass.
We'll be playing around with variations on this idea that can keep it affordable for a large crowd. Who wouldn't like a whimsical necklace like this? It's pretty great that I get to keep the prototype!
Though I have designed tattoos, I do not have any. I'm fickle. My tastes change. So I thought there must be a way I could wear my own art without permanence. Jewelry seems like a classier option than wearable tees or the like. It was my luck to become fast friends with a jeweler who likes my drawings as much as I like her jewelry!
Debbie Liu creates two lines of jewelry. The first, Bunnies Can Dream, is a line of colorful, whimsical jewelry with many hand-worked elements, like macrame (bunniescandream.etsy.com). The second is Harlequin & Lionhead, also named after her two rabbit breeds. This shop specializes in sculpted cast precious metal rings, earrings, bracelets, and pendants (www.harlequinlionhead.com). She recently had her first trunk show at Henri Bendel. Well, I was impressed.
I've known Deb for over a year now. We are actually relatively close neighbors in Queens. Some time ago we began planning a joint venture where tiny giclée prints would be embedded in pendants. This is a prototype, a two-sided pendant with two of my Delacorte clock illustrations: The Dancing Bear and the Penguin with Drum. The pendent is made with giclée prints embedded in resin and brass.
We'll be playing around with variations on this idea that can keep it affordable for a large crowd. Who wouldn't like a whimsical necklace like this? It's pretty great that I get to keep the prototype!
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| Animal Pendant by Jessica Boehman and Debbie Liu: recto, The Dancing Bear |
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| Animal Pendant by Jessica Boehman and Debbie Liu. Verso: Penguin with Drum |
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