Veep Throat: The Second Bananas Speak
Posted by Bob Staake at 10:47 am on October 1st
The Presidential Debate LINGO cards proved quite popular so it only seemed natural (and almost embarassingly easy) to come up with a set for the VICE Presidential debate.
I'm guessing the word "Couric" comes up within the first 5 minutes -- but only after Biden works in "moose", and when Palin says "Todd" in that weird, twangy, nails-on-chalkboard voice of hers, YOU shout "LINGO!"
My hunch is that the debate may produce its share of cringe-worthy moments -- so might as well turn the whole thing into a ridiculous game.
ps: I'd like to go on the record saying that is Biden, Palin OR moderator Gwen Ifill says "professor nimbus", I will promptly transfer $1000 into Michael Sloan's PayPal account.
Play LINGO with John and Barack!
Posted by Bob Staake at 1:45 pm on September 25th
Let's face it -- presidential debates can get a little boring. Well, not any more. Download and print these EIGHT different LINGO cards and watch the televised debate. When a candidate utters a buzzword or phrase -- from trillion to golden parachute, solar to drill -- cross it off. First player to get five in a row wins!
"We've Donuts Laced With Kiwi Jam...
Posted by Bob Staake at 7:57 pm on September 8th
...And Served Inside An Open Clam!"
It's always nice when you get that box of fresh new books from your publisher, but when they give off that sweet sugar-frosted dough aroma, well, that's an unexpected bonus (I'll thank my editor Diane for that).
My new picture book, The Donut Chef comes out today from Random House and Golden Books.
Happily, the early reviews have been terrific -- but even more rewarding is watching a little kid sit down with the book and then squealing at all the right parts.
If you have a kid who loves over-the-top colors, rhyming stores and, of course, good old-fashioned American deep-fried rings o' dough, I hope you'll share this book with them.
The big fancy-schmantzy DonutChef.com is now up, running and live -- but you might get a better idea of the book (and the parable behind it) by checking out the YouTube commercial.
(We now return you to the Goldin/Hitz-produced fireworks show already in progress....)
What They NEVER Teach You In Children's Book Illustration 101
Posted by Bob Staake at 9:43 pm on August 18th
Figure 1: Farmer Puff (detail). Like Clinton, he never inhaled
I've been doing this for a while. In fact, I started doing this so long ago I even had a full head of hair (proof here courtesy of Ebay). I know that Drawger is filled with practitioners who would love nothing more than to start working in the fast-paced, groupie-filled world of children's books. I can share SOOOOO many gems, but where to start? Well, let's take the illustration that I'm working on today -- the background spread for a new pop-up book for the uber-kind people at Little Brown called 'Pets Go Pop'. This is my second pop-up book. They're challenging, they're a chance to show off your engineering skills, they're the perfect opportunity to put on a few extra paper cuts. What they are NOT is the opportunity to draw smoking farmers. Let me explain: Little fills the void of a composition better than a pipe, a cigar, even a cigarette angled in such a jaunty fashion that smoke swirls from the hot end, coiling upwards and giving that much needed balance to an otherwise lonely area of a scene -- a scene that screams "hey, bub -- what about ME?!". What about me indeed. There're a problem though. At the American Booksellers and Politically-Correct Librarians Conference of 1993, a position paper was issued essentially stating that should a children's book illustrator ever insert a drawing, rendering, image or facsimile of a person, animal or insect smoking then they'll not only be banned by every publishing house between 54th and Mercer Streets. Clever illustrators, and those alleged to be clever, bristled at this new edict -- but they backed off when they realized the librarians were damn serious, and some of the younger ones knew Kung Fu as well as they knew the Dewey Decimal System. But the really, REALLY clever illustrators -- the ones who refused to be pushed around by some octogenarian blue hair with a library science degree from one of the Seven Sisters and a gut full of piss, vinegar and maalox -- they found a way around the "smoke issue". They soon learned that you COULD stick a pipe in the mouth of a businessman, the bill of a duck, the mandible of a cricket -- and as long as you showed BUBBLES, not smoke, percolating out of the pipe, you were safe and you wouldn't face being drop kicked down 6th Avenue like an already-beaten pinata. You'll note my farmer in the scene below (Figure 1). I COULD have violated the 1993 edict and tried to "sneak in" some tobacco smoke swirling from Farmer Puff's (we'll call him that) pipe, but if I did there would only be one of two outcomes -- 1; my editor would notice the smoke and have me eliminate it before it went to press -- a process that would only cost me time, waste energy and take away from my need to caulk some windows well in advance of the winter nor' easters or, 2; the visual element would slip by my editor and once it was printed, she'd accuse me of deliberately being a sleaze bag and not calling her eye to it. In the latter case, the pinata ass-kicking option might still go into effect. So, my friends -- when in doubt, bubbles. It's as simple as that.
Figure 2: The backdrop for a crazed scene of pop-up pets. Pay no attention to those seemingly vacant areas of black and green -- soon they'll be teeming with rodents and alligators
Figure 3: An elephant will be sucking up the H2O here. Such a scene can be equally perilous for an illustrator, so if you decide to take on such staging, please proceed with caution.
Figure 4: My theory that "It Ain't A Picture Book Unless It Has At Least One Blue Dachsund" gets put to the test here -- and it passes.
Figure 5: This element is going to be a real problem if the sub-rights are optioned in South America or Greenland. As Leo can attest, it is considered bad luck in any country below the Equator if a frog touches your bike helmet. This will have to be fixed. Likewise, to be stared at by five or more cheaply cloned pigs in Greenland means you hope that the tundra on your neighbor's land melts and is overrun by poor quality lichen. This too is gonna need some fixing.
September Ritual (A Couple Weeks Early)
Posted by Bob Staake at 5:53 pm on August 14th
Every year when September rolls around I like to take a little time off to reflect, enjoy the new found solitude of Cape Cod and work on some personal images. I don't know what is about September, but I wind up thinking more about color. This time around my personal images in September are gonna be color stylings and backgrounds -- done as exercises primarily, but to see if any of them suggest a new picture book. This is the first (Autumn Corn) -- and it comes two weeks before 9/1 even kicks in.
Roomy Enough For Two Cockroaches And Up To Eighteen Deer Ticks
Posted by Bob Staake at 8:02 am on August 12th
This summer there have been a surprising number of people visiting the studio -- and most of them kids. I'm always flattered when somebody wants to come by and say hello, but I always feel compelled to give them something as they walk out the door. Typically, that's a book -- but you do that enough and your author copies dwindle to nothing -- and real quick.
I came up with the idea of creating and printing up something that kids could cut out, assemble, glue and make for themselves; an uber-mini replica of the very studio they just visited.
I wanted it to be something that could be used for a wide variety of applications -- as a giveaway for visitors, as a promotional piece, as something to pass along at book signings, etc -- and to make it look as if the thing was ripped from the pages of a Dorling Kinderling book. It was sure fun to do -- and people seem to get a kick out of assembling the model.
A couple friends of mine have said that 'papercraft' models like these have become all the (mini) rage -- people can print the files (click here to download) on their own and assemble them anywhere in the world.
Again, I really think this internet thing is gonna catch on.
Weird shapes to work with, but I got it all in. The thing prints on a single sheet of 8.5" x 11" card stock.
I've seen some very complex 'papercraft' models. Thankfully this one is very simple.
Kids, of course, should use the rustiest, dullest, safest scissors possible when assembling the model -- however a pro like you should be using a razor-sharp x-acto.
Inside the model: A miniaturized paper-mache model of David Goldin blowing up fireworks! Score!
One Cupola Down -- And STILL Ten Fingers On Two Hands!
Posted by Bob Staake at 9:15 pm on July 15th
Illustrator wives: Don't EVER buy your husband every really cool power tool under the sun or he might spend all his time making stuff like this. Note to Paulette: I'd REALLY love a stationary planer for my birthday -- hint hint.
There's knot a lot of difference between making illustrations and making stuff out of wood (sorry -- couldn't resist).
When I designed my new studio two years ago, my intention was to crown it with a cupola. For a year I researched different models online, and I found that they were too ugly, too curvy, or just too damn expensive. I think the one I liked best was $2k, and while I'm certain it was worth every penny, the cheapskate in me said "You know, I know exactly what I want in a cupola, so I'll just build it myself."
Clean lines. Solid six pane windows. Proud roof angle. Classic. And maybe I was just the idiot to bring all those things into play?
I started in the spring when the weather is gorgeous here on Cape Cod and Stephanos has yet to start his rigorous biking that has him wooshing by the studio 3 times a day making everybody, certainly me, feel like a doughy schlump. What you learn VERY soon is that building a cupola is a little like building an Apollo command vehicle. No, it won't have to withstand 3000+ degree heat upon re-entry into the earth's atmosphere, but it IS going to have to hold up to 80 mph winds. The thing is, every time you add a course of screws to the frame, back a strip of moulding with strapping or shore up the meeting point of the four roof sections, you add weight to the thing -- and the more weight you add, the more you pull back and wonder "okay, how the HELL are we gonna get this thing on TOP of an 18 foot building?"
Luckily, I decided from the beginning to build the cupola in two parts -- the base and the roof. Engineering-wise, It would have been easier to build a singular unit -- but it would have required a crane to mount the unit. So for two months I worked when I could on the thing -- moving slower than usual just to make sure what I was building wouldn't come crashing through the studio, or worse yet, become airborne and wind up landing in the Atlantic.
Two weeks ago I was at that critical stage; finding a guy who would actually brave the ladders, the scaffolds, the physics of installing the cupola on the roof. Amazingly, a neighbor was having a large addition built on his home, so I walked over there and talked to Ian, a timber framer. In the afternoon Ian came by to look at the cupola, and I was relieved beyond words when he looked at it and said "GOOD for you!". He suggested a couple things; double from 1"x1" to 2"x2" the chamfered bases through which the timber locks will be drilled and attached to the roof, create eight rather than four pre-drilled angled holes in the 'x' cross bar so when we attach it to the roof we can accommodate wind shear, double up the attatching rafter points in the loft of the studio so the four 12" timer bolts will have more meat to sink into. It all sounded just swell to me -- so I spent a couple extra days fine tuning the cupola before Ian arrived.
He came last Friday and spent the better part of two hours creating the staging area on both sides of the roof with three ladders at different positions meeting at the gable. Once I saw all the equipment, I knew the installation would be done right -- though I didn't hesitate to ask Ian "you've got insurance, right?". He fell on a job once -- went from the roof of a two story house and right into the basement -- and essentially lost three years of his life recuperating. Yes, he had insurance -- he DEFINITELY had insurance.
I wish I could have taken better photos, because it was like ballet the way Ian traversed the ladders, the roof, the bulky cupola, but he knew it would be a two person job -- so when the other guy didn't show, I found myself working as his assistant.
There's something so incredibly rewarding about building things on your own -- having an idea how to get them done, then just kinda throwing caution to the wind and finding a way. You Drawgers who do the same thing, you know exactly what I'm talking about. First you think about the project, then you doodle out a couple designs, you go to the hardware store, you pull out the tools, you measure twice and cut once (especially 45 degree angles), and if you're lucky, you succeed.
So, what did I SAVE by designing, engineering and building my OWN cupola? Put it this way; After buying all the materials, calculating my time and bringing in sure goat-footed Ian, it would have been cheaper to just spend the $2k and be done with it. But where's the fun in THAT?
The base is 30" wide -- narrow enough to get into the basement workshop, the studio basement or the studio itself -- but the thing was so damn heavy I didn't wanna lug it around every day -- so I pretty much worked on it as it teetered on this rock wall.
Copper (as any Waxman or handyman can tell you), ain't cheap. I used fairly thin vinyl-backed copper typically used for flashing as almost overlapped wallpaper. The corners are made of thicker copper trim. Once the copper started to patina and the "roughness" began to work in, it looked much better (I hate the look of that shiny copper). Maybe in 10 years I'll have a nice green patina -- I'm thinking PMS 563.
One day I was searching ebay for "weird metal" and this thing came up. It's aluminum - likely a flag pole topper. It was threaded, so I was able to easily create a post and slot it in as a roof cap. Who would have thought a lousy 3 dollar piece of ebay garbage could make for such a perfect cupola finial?
Believe it or not Ian wanted to crawl up the lader with the cupola base balanced on his back. Since he brought along THE LONGEST LADDER IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND to my house, I thought it would work better to use it as a track. I built a sled out of plywood and 2x4s and Ian simply backed up the rungs on his butt -- pulling the sled and the cupola up one rung at a time. Worked like a charm (and far safer).
Speaking of butts, here's Ian's. The guy was all over the roof like you wouldn't believe. The longest screws available on the Eastern Seaboard were brought along and then ratcheted into the rafters. We get some SERIOUS wind here in Chatham, Massachusetts so I'm counting on these screws.
Ian really wanted to carry something up the ladder -- so I said "Okay, fine! Then take the roof up to the roof!".
It all went amazingly smooth -- no broken fingers, no metal shards in the eyeballs, no sharp copper severing any vital veins.
It looks like a REAL studio now.
Ian was anxious to see if my electrical skills were as good as my woodmaking chops, so he gently prodded me into wiring up the light. Tah-dah! No electrocution tonight! Ian joined me and Paulette for pizza and beer and we watched the evening grow darker and the cupola glow brighter.
