While I feel I did do a really great job soaking up information like a sponge and bringing it home to be implemented, I most definitely did not do a great job documenting my experience there. The one and only photo from my trip was a blurry walk-through shot in Grand Central while on my way to grab lunch, seen here. Go me! Words will just have to work instead of pictures here.

The weekend was so densely packed with goodness that it’s hard to narrow the event down to any concise high-point, but a few moments stood out:

To really sum it up, my feeling is this: I went to a fantastic art school where I learned a lot about the technique and conceptual craft of illustration, but I did not learn much about the specific business of children’s book illustration, primarily because classes in that subject were first offered the year after I graduated. This weekend filled in many of those knowledge gaps in one fell swoop. Worth it? Totally.

P.S: To further cap it off, I came home after the conference to find this on my door-step:

It’s a copy of the new 3×3 Illustration Directory! And they were incredibly generous to me:

Hello there, two-page spread! Thank you so much, 3×3, for including my work in your directory, and for giving my Moon Sisters a wonderfully mysterious environment.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work on a picture book!

This morning I received news that my former teacher, mentor, and great friend Dugald Stermer has passed away. I have known that he was unwell for quite a while now, but the email still felt like a punch in the gut.

In my time at CCA I had the extreme good fortune to kindle lasting friendships with two of the wonderful professors there, one of whom was Dugald. He was the first member of the illustration department that I met (on my very first visit when scouting out the school), and by the time thesis class and graduation rolled around, he had become an inspiring mentor. After graduation he scooped me up to become his teaching assistant and studio assistant, and thus began a friendship that has had profound impact on my life, my career, and the way I view my work.

The first years out of art school can be very hard, but Dugald was a steadying influence in that time, and an encouraging guide into the professional world of illustration. Once a week I got to retreat with Dugald into his studio – a room furnished in rustic wood and leather, with dim, moody lighting, walls lined with rows of antique left-handed guitars and the original artworks of his friends, lots and lots of books, and all manner of interesting and strange objects on display. It was not large, but he had turned the space into a palace of his craft. As his studio assistant my job was to help him prepare his work for clients, send out postcards and mailers, keep things tidy and organized, and catalogue his work in a giant flat file cabinet.

This last “task” was the best of all. Each drawer revealed a treasury of precise craftsmanship and jewel-like watercolors. Dugald’s depictions of animals and botanicals were exquisite, with an old-world quality and a great deal of sensitivity to them. Those drawers contained breathtaking pictures of bears, elephants, octopi, tigers, dogs, seahorses, flowers, fish, trees – it seemed like almost anything living under the sun or the sea was found within.  He never rushed me to organize it quickly, so I had the privilege to handle each piece with care, to inspect slowly and soak in his work while preparing his paper menagerie and botanical gardens to be stored away. Dugald could make anything look beautiful. He liked to joke that his strangest commission was one of his recent ones, where the client requested that he draw a pile of dirt. But opening up that large file drawer, there it was: a beautiful pile of dirt, rendered with loving care.

Up in the studio we would chat pleasantly as we worked, but every day he would insist on treating me to lunch, and down in the cafe we could dig in and have real conversations over our break. Getting to know Dugald’s mind was as much a privilege as getting to know his artwork. A man of strong convictions and principles, Dugald was a treat to talk with. Over lunch we would discuss books, history, the illustration community, and current events, all of which he had strong opinions on – I respected him for that. A philanthropist and a generous soul, he gave in a multitude of ways to the Delancy Street foundation, an organization that helps to rehabilitate men and women from prison, allowing them to re-join society gracefully and find strength in themselves. Dugald’s studio was housed in their San Francisco headquarters, and it was evident how much the people there loved and respected him. Out in the courtyard, everyone we crossed paths with would wave and smile and say “Hey, Dugald!” They very clearly loved him, and this was the kind of loyalty and friendship that Dugald inspired naturally.

To say that my time working with him was inspiring is just not saying enough. It was a true privilege to have him as a mentor, and I feel so lucky to have been able to come to his studio once a week and spend time with this great man.  The last time I saw Dugald was in June; we went out for lunch one last time before I moved out east. He was kind and encouraging as always, and excited about the new path that life was leading me down. He was always excited for the next generation of illustrators. At the end of that meeting I had the eerie feeling that that was the last time I would be seeing Dugald. It was a hard day then, but it’s an even harder one now.

I was lucky to have visited her just over one month ago, and it was a truly special time.  She was in poor health, but we got to share time together just being in each other’s company for the last time. Those are days that I will remember forever, but they will be tucked away in my mind alongside many memories of her in healthier and stronger times. To share a little more of her with you, I found this beautiful video of her reciting poetry from memory. It was filmed in 2008, and her past life as a drama teacher and an actress shines out clearly.

She was and still is a huge inspiration to me, and always had an encouraging word to say about my path as an artist. Sylvia was a sweet and strong woman through her entire life, and I feel incredibly lucky to have had her as my grandmother.

Please click image to view larger version

A few months ago I was contacted by The Saturday Evening Post to create an illustration to accompany a J.D. Salinger story set to run in their July/August 2010 issue.  Seeing that e-mail in my inbox was a real thrill, let me tell you, and I couldn’t wait to get started!  And I confess, though I consider myself a well read person I had never read any of J.D. Salinger’s works before the beginning of this assignment (I know! Bad, Ashley!).

The chosen short story, “A Boy in France,” was written during Salinger’s time in army service during World War II, and was originally published by The Post in 1945.  From its tone and realism the story made it clear that Salinger was writing about experiences and feelings of a war that he knew intimately, not from the distance of American soil.  I wanted to capture this feeling in the final illustration, and to really hi-light the difference between the nostalgic glow of home and the dark reality of life in a WWII foxhole.

Working with the art director at The Post was wonderful, and when I presented her with my three sketches she chose one that we were both excited about.  From there it was a straight shot to the finish, and then many weeks of excited waiting for it to be published before I could share the final.  And then a couple of weeks ago, this arrived in the mail:

With lovely cover done by Paul Rogers

Hey! There it is!

So there you go – my first job with The Saturday Evening Post!  I’m really pleased with the final painting, and thoroughly enjoyed working with everyone over at The Post.  You can still find this issue on newsstands through August.