A Violet at the North Pole

This year's Bologna Children's Book Fair is honoring author Gianni Rodari with an illustration competition. Here is a study for my submission. If time allows, I'd like to make an actual painting, or a lino print... we'll see how it goes.

Finding his books here in the states was difficult. I was able to order a CD, however, on which a narrator read seven of his stories. I had to pick the one about the violet for obvious reasons. :-)

You can read about the competition and the book fair at the Bologna Fiere site:

http://www.bookfair.bolognafiere.it/bcbf09_internal1.asp?m=107&l=2&a=&ma=366&c=4114&p=1072009

Fast!

Insomnia (sigh). So, I decided to get up and make a picture for this week's Illustration Friday. The topic: Fast. I love how little dogs with short legs seem to glide on wheels when they're running. This is my best attempt to show this fast phenomenon.

http://www.illustrationfriday.com/

http://www.violetlemay.com/

Frozen Kiss

It is almost chilly in Savannah lately, before the sun comes up anyway. My son and I could see our breath hanging in the air as we walked to the bus stop yesterday—just barely, but it was definitely there. Made me wonder if, when it's chilly out and you blow a kiss to someone, you can see the kiss as it's wafting toward its target. All of these thoughts were the inspiration for this illustration.

Shoes

I sketched this idea over a year and a half ago; finally had the time and the inclination to make it into an illustration. I thought it might make a nice gift card.

The shoe at the very top—the one with the butterfly—was the inspiration for this illustration. I bought that pair of shoes in Manila many years ago, and they are a precious reminder of that trip. They are beautiful black patent leather slides, very unusual. I was wearing them the day I made the sketch.

The shoe on the left, the one about to be hung on the tree, belongs to my dear friend Laura. This is the second time I've drawn that particular shoe. It's a navy Chanel sling-back pump, quite stylish.

The Girl with the Green Ribbon

When I was little my brother and I had a few spooky records that we brought out at this time of year: scary tales read aloud by various celebrities. I think Ron Howard was one of the narrators. The stories were pretty tame (the records came from the Scholastic Book Club, I'm pretty sure), but riveting. The only one I really remember is called, 'The Girl with the Green Ribbon.' I googled it yesterday—apparently it's an old folk tale, so it's part of the public domain. Here's my rendition:

Once there was a pretty little girl, very cheerful and sweet, who always wore a green ribbon tied around her neck. The little boy who sat behind her in class wondered for quite some time about the ribbon which peeked out at him from beneath her bobbed hair. One day he mustered up his courage and asked, 'Why do you always wear that green ribbon?' She shyly replied, 'If we get married when we grow up, I will tell you.'

Her shy reply turned out to be quite prophetic, for many years later, all grown up, these two schoolmates did fall in love and were married. On their wedding night the husband asked again, 'My darling, why won't you take off that green ribbon?' His bride guardedly replied, 'If we ever have children, my dear, I will tell you.'

As time went by, the couple had two lovely children, a boy and a girl. And so one day when he could stand it no longer the husband again asked, 'My dear wife, when will you tell me why you always wear that green ribbon?' The color left her cheeks as she replied, 'Husband, please... I'd rather you didn't know. Not now. Ask me again when we are old.'

The husband adored his wife and decided to be content with her answer, as his question had upset her so.

Many more years passed. The wife became ill and very frail. At her bedside, her beloved husband kissed her ashen cheek. 'My beloved, perhaps you will tell me now. Why do you wear that green ribbon?' A tear rolled down her sweet face as she replied, 'Forgive me for keeping it from you all this time, my dear. I will show you now, why I have always worn it.' With that she untied the green ribbon, and off rolled her head.

I made this image into a 'pretend' book cover, as a sample for my portfolio:

http://violetlemay.com/artwork/906539_Book_Cover.html

My Friend Joyce

The last time I saw my friend Joyce, she was propped up in bed just like this... all eighty-five or so pounds of her. It was a chilly February day. Joyce had recently been admitted to a nursing home, and I thought I'd check in on her. Toting a big pot of tulips decorated with red foil for Valentine's Day, I stopped at the nurses' station and was directed to her room. The door was wide open connecting my delicate little friend to all of the cheerful activity, the buzz of the busy nursing home happening in the sunlit hallway. Deaf as could be, she didn't notice me at first. I stood there in the hall and couldn't help but smile as I watched her, happily sipping what looked like a nutritional shake from a clear plastic cup as she watched CNN's headlines zip across the television screen. She was so thin that her body hardly disturbed the clean line of the blanket that covered her; she was completely dwarfed by the hospital bed.

I drank that moment in. It was nice to see her looking well and happy. Joyce, my across-the-street neighbor, had been sick for a long, long time. We had a nice little visit that day; she remembered me and was (mostly) awake the whole time. As I gave her a hug and a kiss on my way out, I wondered if that visit would be our last. Sadly, it was.

Joyce passed away on September 29 in Huntsville, Alabama. Her family had moved her to another nursing home there, to be near them. This afternoon however, we had a little memorial service for her here in Savannah. There weren't many of us in attendance: some family members who had traveled in from Huntsville, a handful of other neighbors and friends, the minister from her church, my son and me. As we sang 'How Great Thou Art,' I cried for my friend Joyce. I will miss her.

It's funny, Joyce and I were great friends, but she really never cared for my illustration work. She was much too polite to ever come out and say that, of course, but she was also too honest to pretend to be a fan. Thought I'd post this little sketch of her, because I think she might actually approve of the style of it... although she'd be upset with me for showing her as she was that day, thinning hair all mussed, and in her jammies.

http://obit.foxandweeks.com/obitdisplay.html?id=711185&clientid=foxandweeks&listing=Current

For a thousand years in your sight
are like a day that has just gone by,
or like a watch in the night.

You sweep men away in the sleep of death;
they are like the new grass of the morning-

though in the morning it springs up new,
by evening it is dry and withered.

~ Psalm 90:4-6

A Very Frizzy Day

According to my friend Kim's mom, 'frizzy' weather is any humid, misty, or rainy day. If your hair has natural texture or body (a.k.a. is a styling nightmare), I'm sure you know what she's talking about. We had a particularly frizzy day here in Savannah recently and my hair was such a disaster, words were not adequate to describe. For fun I scribbled out the little black and white ink sketch you see here to post on facebook. Hearing comments everywhere I went that day from Savannah ladies who were equally dismayed concerning their frizzy locks, I was inspired to make my little sketch into this color piece.

http://violetlemay.com/artwork/833406_The_Frizz_Factor_Humidity_and_Your_Hair.html