My Mom - By Barbara DiLorenzo

When I was in ninth grade, influenced by my mother's journey to publication, I made my first picture book dummy. She and I had taken summer courses together at our local art college–Montserrat, in Beverly MA. While she was already skilled in writing and illustration, I was just learning. Those courses lit a fire within her, and I watched her begin to pursue picture book publication. She told me that once a radio personality read her fortune and said she would one day write a children's book. I think that's what she said. Maybe it was someone else's prophetic words that helped her follow through, even when the journey seemed bleak. Bleak to her, anyways. To me, it was a magical journey. I watched her form a critique group with writers–some published, some not. The women who were published had an air of achievement that made them more beautiful to me. Stacks of postcards with her illustrations printed on the front would occasionally collect on the dining room table, addressed to editors and art directors. Magical! And in high school, she brought me to my first SCBWI conference, where I met Jane Yolen and had her sign my sketchbook–a magical moment I will never forget, though I met her again years later.

The only aspect of her journey I didn't enjoy was when she asked my brother, step-father and I to critique her work. I didn't think my opinion should hold much weight as she could clearly draw and write far better than me. She didn't let any of us off the hook when we praised her work–she had to know what needed adjustment. I delicately explored the work, trying to find the line where I was helpful, but not too critical. If she hadn't been persuasive about finding flaws, all of us would have been in awe of her work as it was. I saw firsthand the torturous life of a creative person–even if people around you think your work is awesome, you can never really rest or trust that it is.

Her first book was HURRICANE, written by Corinne Demas. She took photographs of my brother and I around our family's house for illustration reference, and dedicated it to my grandmother, who passed away right before it was published. I was so proud of her accomplishing a lifelong dream. But she went above and beyond–and had a second book contract in no time! She sold her manuscript MINGO, which was illustrated by Bill Farnsworth. She told this story to my brother and I numerous times when we were growing up. Sometimes when we drove by a particular ocean view, she would remind us about the story of Mingo, the slave who was promised his freedom when the tide held back enough for a person to walk out to Aunt Becky's Ledge. It was a haunting story to hear. But to see it in print, incredible. I think that's where my love of combining history with a fictional narrative was born.

I'm not sure why my mother stopped after MINGO. I know she had numerous other stories in various stages of development–some I thought were definitely ready to send out. She had a great story about Van Gogh. I thought she would keep going, but somehow, maybe seeing the other side of being published, she stopped submitting her work. She taught watercolor painting for years, so I don't think author visits would have daunted her. The feedback and reviews were positive, but maybe she was hoping for more. I can understand that–this is the first time I'm facing reviews, and it's a whole new aspect to publishing that I hadn't paid attention to before. And reviews, even glowing ones, can still include words that sting.

I have questions for her, but she and I have had a long history of a troubled relationship. We have not spoken since 2009. Prior to that, there were clumps of years that we didn't speak, interspersed with years that we did. At this point, I think both of us, and our family, feel that somehow the two of us are better off cooly existing in separate worlds. It's lonelier, but it's more peaceful. No one needs their blood pressure raised after so many years of heartache. But. At this point in time, reflecting on the eve of my own books being published, I honor all that my mother taught me. She sat with my brother and I at the kitchen table when we were tiny, and showed us how to sculpt in clay and paint and draw. She was and is talented in so many different mediums. As was her mother, my grandmother, who passed away before she ever got to see her daughter or granddaughter published. Both my mother and my grandmother wanted to go to art school, but were discouraged. Though I applied to six liberal arts schools and only one art school, the day my acceptance to RISD arrived, my mom was the person who cheered me on, and made sure I felt supported in the decision to pursue art. That support dropped away once I moved into my dorm, but that is the nature of our dark relationship.

While I can't change the turmoil of the past, I do honor the good parts. And in my newborn daughter, (a surprise in my life now that I'm 41-years old), I see my mom's blue eyes. And unlike my son, at only two months old, this child stares at the paintings on our walls, and the picture books that I show her. She is fascinated by books and art already–something my son didn't notice until many months later, and with a lot of encouragement. I wonder if she will carry the creative writing and painting spirit that has traveled through the generations of women in my family. My only prayer is that no matter what I teach her, that my mother taught me, that her mother taught her–we remain friends. When my daughter achieves her lifelong dream, I want to be there to celebrate alongside her.

RENATO AND THE LION

by Barbara DiLorenzo

Come by and celebrate on June 25, 2017

From 1-3pm at Books of Wonder

18 W 18th St, New York, NY 10011

Barbara is represented by Rachel Orr of the Prospect Agency.

Twitter: @wavepaint

Facebook: @BarbaraWillcoxDiLorenzo
www.barbaradilorenzo.com

When life gets in the way... by Barbara DiLorenzo

A year ago, I was a workhorse. I'd wake up and get my son to school by 7am, drink my coffee, then dive into drawing and painting. Some days were interrupted by teaching or other social obligations. But I was dogged in my determination to bring my picture book projects to publication. I'd post sketches and paintings-in-progress on social media. I was proud of my productivity. A year ago, I had sold my first book, and was about to embark on a research trip to Italy. My life was solid. My determination to reach my career goals, unshakeable.

But then, in the fall, my husband of 15 years and I decided to part ways. Although the build-up to this decision was logical, and we truly did exhaust all our options, we ended up vowing to remain friends and cooperatively parent our amazing son. Despite the amicable nature of our separation–this took the stuffing out of me. And him. I stopped drawing for awhile. I stopped answering emails or posting on social media. I didn't want to face people. I didn't know how to navigate this new territory, other than putting one foot in front of the other, taking care of my son and showing up to teach my art classes.

The late fall and holiday season were sad for me. But even in that dark time, I found comfort in loved ones–and enormous joy that my debut picture book, RENATO AND THE LION, was suddenly moving forward. The book had been in a holding pattern of sorts, which had made me wonder if it would ever come to light. At my most depressed point, I suddenly felt buoyed that this project was indeed, alive.

The publishing team had approved the text, and asked me for rough thumbnails. What would normally take two days of solid effort–took me over a month. Despite my excitement for the book, the impact of a pending divorce had slowed me down mentally. I had to get my sh*t together, or I'd risk losing my lifelong dream of creating a book–a book with a story that I love.

The team at Viking was gracious, and didn't say anything about my delay. Instead, they brought me in to discuss edits to help me proceed to the next stage. Their suggestions were smart and helpful, and I was excited to be back on track. I worked like a dog for a week and a half to produce more refined sketches, and was proud to turn them in. Currently, we are at an exciting point in the book production–with the deadline for final art approaching in September. And now, I am working at an efficient, effective pace again.

I am grateful to my loved ones and to the publishing team that believes in my book. Their faith in me, especially during a dark time, has lit the path to help me find my way back–back to my normal, workhorse flow.

Website: www.barbaradilorenzo.com

Illustration Blog: Paint & Paper
Follow me on Twitter: @wavepaint

The value of time away from your work... by Barbara DiLorenzo

I love coming up with a book idea that feels solid. If it is strong enough, and I feel a real connection with the characters, I jump into the long process of building (or problem solving) a story using words and pictures. A brief outline of the plot comes first, followed by thumbnail sketches scrawled loosely on a micro storyboard. After this stage, I try out my idea on fellow artists, friends and family members. Sometimes glaring errors pop up and I realize it's time to revise heavily, or possibly rethink the idea. Was it as good as I had imagined? But sometimes folks seem to resonate with the concept, and I feel a green light to move forward. Usually my thumbnail drawings are hard to read, so sometimes the refined sketching stage flags new problems with the plot or the characters. The more I revise and work on a book dummy, the more I lose my perspective on whether certain moments work or not. If I am trying to pull a book together to submit to a contest, I will doggedly work on the drafts without a real break, in order to make the deadline. And that is usually when I run smack into a wall. I show the dummy to someone after weeks of hard work–expecting that their reaction will directly correspond to the huge amount of work I did. (I worked so, so, so hard=they will love it.) Only, normally, it doesn't happen this way. The person recognizes that the pile of pages is a labor of love. But for some reason, they don't love it. Why? Sometimes it's because they don't understand it, and I think, "How could they not understand it? It's so clear to me!"Of course it's clear to me. I'm immersed in the project. I don't know anything else as I sleep, eat and breathe my new book. I have no perspective.

This problem is the result of not stepping back from my work. If I paint a watercolor painting, I constantly work up close, then step back to check everything makes sense. I encourage my art students to take breaks and put their work up across the room from them to see it from a distance. Yet when making books, I sometimes neglect this crucial step. Every book on writing says some version of this. Step 1: Write the best book ever. Step 2: Put it in a drawer and forget about it. Step 3: Start a new book. Step 4: Eventually return to your first book after months away, and you will see it wasn't as amazing as you thought. Step 5: Revise like hell and listen to feedback that makes sense. Step 6: Rinse and repeat until the book doesn't stink. 

Recently I felt guilty about taking about a month away from a book project dear to my heart. I planned to tackle smaller projects and clear time for the big book project. But the small projects kept dragging on and on, and I finally used up the few weeks of free time I had planned to finish the big book project. I felt guilty and frustrated. But amazingly, the extended time away gave me what I never give to myself–perspective. Suddenly I saw the plot more clearly, and in no time I had thumbnails scrawled across most of the pages. Although I had waited longer to get started, I was actually working faster and with more clarity after the time away. 

I point this out only to help other bookmakers, struggling to hammer a manuscript or book dummy into shape. Sometimes all you need is a little time away, and then the work becomes clear. You can see exactly what needs help, as well as what is truly working well. 

Website: www.barbaradilorenzo.com

Illustration Blog: Paint & Paper
Follow me on Twitter: @wavepaint

New Illustration Process - by Barbara DiLorenzo

For many years, I used a regular 2B pencil to sketch my concepts for an illustration. When I was content with the composition, values and the expression on the characters, I would move forward to paint. But for years, I felt that there was a disconnect between my graphite hatching strokes, and the smoother brush strokes of either my oil or watercolor paintings. While seeing the work in color is exciting, it bothered me that so much energy in the hatch marks got lost in the final pieces. I worried that art directors would not know what to expect, since the tone and treatment varied greatly from sketch to final.
Here is an example sketch, followed by the watercolor final:

In a recent attempt to solve this problem, I tried scanning the sketch and coloring the image digitally. I was happy with the result, but while this works for a logo, I was itching to spend more time with traditional paints.

Thankfully, I was lucky enough to see a demonstration by a local artist, Paul Mordetsky, with a newish product called Liquid Pencil. This graphite/watercolor hybrid works like a watercolor paint, but is easy to correct and lighten, even erase when dry! Here is the product description from the Blick website:

Have you ever been sketching and wanted to cover a large area quickly? Or wanted to variegate the tone very subtly, similar to using watercolors? Derivan Liquid pencil is capable of all these things and more. An innovative new product that allows artists to create authentic graphite pencil effects with a liquid, Derivan Liquid Pencil can be easily thinned with water to allow for the softest colors to be applied with a brush, nib, or other art tools. Because of its precisely balanced formulation, the Permanent formula "burnishes up" like traditional graphite but won’t smudge. The Rewettable formula allows for removal with water or an eraser, similar to watercolor techniques. Large areas also can be covered quickly and easily. Derivan Liquid Pencil is available in six graphite shades. Each shade has a definite graphite color; however, there are distinct undertones such as Blue, Yellow, Red, Sepia, and neutral Grey in two different strengths to allow artists a great range of options.

Now that I am getting comfortable with this medium, I am using it to create the sketches for my current book project, RENATO AND THE LION (Viking Children's Books, 2017). I'm able to cover larger areas of the paper faster, and drop in values more easily than hatching the heck out of everything. I can't show that work right now, but I can show these quick sketches I did when I got my first jar of the stuff:

These aren't the best or most finished sketches, but I whipped them out so quickly with a relatively good spectrum of values. I also can focus on my line weights, and erase if I make a mistake. This is informative before painting with watercolors. Prior to this, pencil didn't help me figure out the calligraphic quality to the line that I was looking for. I still love the energy of my pencil sketches, and will continue to do them. But for work where watercolor or oil is the planned final art, Liquid Pencil is my new best friend.

Website: www.barbaradilorenzo.com

Illustration Blog: Paint & Paper
Follow me on Twitter: @wavepaint

Q&A - Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

I'm so thrilled to be a part of this group of talented and fun people. Writing and illustrating can be lonely, so to have some wacky critique partners to liven up the day makes the journey more enjoyable.

What are you working on?
Currently, I'm working on a book for Viking called RENATO AND THE LION. I'm also continuing to develop a few picture book dummies that are waiting in the wings once this book is finished.

"Stargazing on the Ponte Vecchio"
© Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

What is your medium?
Sometimes I paint in watercolors. But then I decide to switch things up and paint in oils. My best work seems to occur when I have a simple yellow 2B pencil in my hand, and I'm just messing around on a wet napkin that is in the process of disintegrating. When I have expensive, $20 cold-pressed watercolor paper in front of me, I freeze a little. But that's what good Photoshop skills are for. I've been using the Adobe Suite since 1998.

"Reflection"
© Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

"Moments Before Opening"
© Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

Who are your creative influences?
I love Peter de Seve's work. He visited my class at RISD when I was a student, and I absolutely fell in love with his characters. His faces are unbelievably expressive. Seeing his work on the New Yorker is always a treat. I also love John Singer Sargent's oil portraits and watercolors of Venice. Capturing the essence of a person or a place without including every detail is exciting to my eye. For humor, I was raised on Bill Watterson and Mad Magazine. Contemporary picture book makers inspire me, but I hesitate to name names because there are so many awesome people out there. I'm truly excited to see the book format for children's literature grow and evolve instead of being stifled by technology. This is an exciting time to be a book maker.
That said, I do have a dark side too. Edward Gorey is another one of my heroes. Sometimes my dark sense of humor dribbles out onto a cartoon, like the one below. This was born on a day when I felt discouraged, and looked up to see a vulture circling above. It made me laugh.

Your picture book process: do the words come first or the images or both?
My process is a bit of a mess. I start with images. Then I add words. Then I change the images. Then I change the words. Then I throw things. I usually end up by eating chocolate and scrolling through Facebook noting all my friends with shiny new book deals. After that, I regroup, and somehow the work comes together. Isn't that how it works for most people?

If you were an animal what would you be?
A mermaid.

"Late in the Studio"
© Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

What is your favorite yummy?

I used to be able to answer this question freely. But I am tied to too many professional chefs to be able to single out one particular dish. So I'll just go with chocolate mousse–made by no one chef in particular. Just regular chocolate mousse.

"Leona Was Not Like The Other Hens"
© Barbara Willcox DiLorenzo

Website: www.barbaradilorenzo.com

Illustration Blog: Paint & Paper
Follow me on Twitter: @wavepaint