Tag Archives: balance

Leo Geo And His Miraculous Journey Through The Center Of The Earth

7 January 2013

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Hello and happy 2013 and welcome back to this little corner of the internet!

And a huge hello to those of you who hopped on board over the last couple weeks! It’s nice to have you.

Here’s an awesome and odd little book to kick off the new year:

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by Jon Chad

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I promise not to use bad puns like, “This book rocks!” or “Perfect for kids who don’t take science for granite!”

Much like another favorite, Sky High, Leo Geo uses size and scale in such an unusual way. Telling a story about a journey through the center of the earth calls for a different visual method than the standards we are used to.

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So flip it 90 degrees and read top to bottom. Of course! Its width (or lack thereof!) perfectly frames the skinny tunnels and canals through which our ‘surface man’ drills.

And just when you get to the center, flip it 180 degrees and read bottom to top as you emerge with him to the other side of the world.

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Throughout the entire journey, Leo Geo narrates his trip with a good healthy dose of science. You’ll get reminders of the difference between stalactites and stalagmites, what  makes up the continental and oceanic crusts, and how many miles you would have to travel before reaching the core.

Even though his voice is conversational and funny, every once in a while you might run into a Quadclops or find a magic dagger. I love that this book becomes a spectacular combination of nonfiction and comic book.

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By using only black and white, the reader gets to fill in the blanks and let their imagination run wild. The contrast between the whites of the tunnels and the black hash marks of piles and piles of fossils provide a very satisfying balance. The art is so intricate that I imagine a young reader (or an old one!) could pore over these pages for hours.

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So yeah. This book rocks.

ch

Over and Under the Snow

24 December 2012

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OverAndUnderTheSnow

by Kate Messner and Christopher Silas Neal

Settle in for a bit. This book will warm your soul.

Absolutely zero snow falls in southern California this time of year, or any time of year really, but this book makes me feel like I am deep in the middle of a winter wonderland.

Kate Messner’s words are hushed and poetic; she is such a beautiful writer. And we tweeted each other once about Ramona Quimby, so I’m an extra huge fan. I love this post by her editor on her words’ rhythms. And Christopher Silas Neal’s art is stunning. The tiny animals are vibrant against the stark snow, and page by page, this quiet walk bursts with life. This post by both Kate and Christopher is a great glimpse into the process of making this book. Go ahead.

You certainly don’t have to be a writer or artist to appreciate this book, but those bits in me make me crazy for this one.

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I especially love the use of color in the illustrations. The cool grays and blues are balanced by our girl’s red knits, a pouncing fox, and a roaring bonfire back home.

White snowflakes scatter over the shadows.

And the sky — I love the sky — it changes from a warm blue, to a cloudy purple, to a deep midnight navy over the course of the book. A gorgeous transformation over the course of this jaunt through the snow.

Add this one to your winter collection! And this little blog wishes you a lovely holiday season. See you back here in 2013?

ch

Ganesha’s Sweet Tooth

27 September 2012

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written by Emily Haynes, pictures by Sanjay Patel

{Please, please, please…if you live in San Francisco, GO SEE THEM at the Cartoon Art Musuem on October 4th. Please! For me.}

Ganesha’s Sweet Tooth is based on a legend in Hindu mythology, but this version has jawbreakers! And a mouse pal! And SPECTACULAR illustrations!

Spectacular is really an understatement. I don’t think I know a word that can contain how spectacfantasterrificawesome these pictures are.

Endpapers that look like blueprints and sketches set the tone for a fresh story, enhanced so beautifully by shape and line.

From the title page on, this book will knock you out graphically. You will see stars (shape!) and vibrating birdies (movement!) flitting around your brain.

Ok. Let me back up a minute. Do you know Darshana Khiani? You should. She reviews books on her blog and always shares gems. And SHE is a gem. We met at the LA SCBWI conference in 2011, but what we didn’t know is that we would bump into each other over and over again online this year and become fast friends. So cool. Darshana emailed me a couple of weeks ago and told me I had to stop, drop, and roll myself to this book ASAP.

I love that she thought I would love it. I love that she was right. And I love that she suggested doing a joint review on it today.

That’s right! More book bang for your buck! So be sure to head over to her place for more of Ganesha and Mr. Mouse.

So much hops off the pages of Ganesha’s Sweet Tooth that my brain hurts to know where to begin. From the title page up a few pictures, to the repeated circles on the illustration above, shape dominates the pages. It’s a smorgasbord of circles, squares, and triangles.

Oh, this page. After every handful of illustrations, your eyes land on a picture like this one. The bright colors quiet for a moment, and these particular pages are striking in their stark contrast. White text, white graphic elements, and one bold, rich color. There’s something about pacing here, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that happens, but aesthetically, the balance is just outstanding.

A story about a sweet tooth begs for a decadent color palette, and these hues are just plain tasty and delightful.

Get this book. (Listen to Darshana, even if you think I am bonkers. She has good taste.)

Won Ton: A Cat Tale Told In Haiku

24 July 2012

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Written by Lee Wardlaw {winner of the SCBWI Crystal Kite Award for California/Hawaii!} and illustrated by Eugene Yelchin {winner of a 2012 Newbery Honor Award for Breaking Stalin’s Nose}

In other words, the people who created this book are no joke.

Lee Wardlaw tells a full and sweet tale of an adopted cat entirely in haiku. The language is sparse, yet rich. Each word of each haiku is perfectly placed which yields an expertly paced read, despite its unconventional storytelling.

In design, contrast highlights the differences in two items. Varying color, shape, or size, can call your attention to any one visual element due to its difference from another.

In Won-Ton: A Cat Tale Told In Haiku, most of the illustrated spreads contrast colors on either side of the gutter.

With so few words peppering each page, it would be easy to breeze through each page, not giving the words the attention they deserve. {Although this may not be true for every reader, but I confess this is a huge flaw in my reading: too fast, too furious.}

However, the contrasting colors cause your eye to slow down a bit, to hop from one side of the gutter to the other, and to really savor the book slowly. Contrast here helps to create a very strong and symmetrical sense of balance to each illustrated spread.

And of course, it just looks so much prettier that way. {That’s some serious art criticism right there, I know.} Haikus have so few words, but because each one packs such a tight little punch, it only makes sense that the illustrations carry on the same sense of oomph. {Again with the fancy art critic words…}

Read this haiku out loud. Seriously. Lee Wardlaw really knows how to whip her words into shape! Just as she says ‘mice snap‘ I love the way the sounds snap, the and the syllables sing. {And I seriously love the bright yellow cover that wraps around just a bit to abruptly meet the red dust jacket. Contrast. So cool.}

The King’s 6th Finger

5 March 2012

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How about that cover? How about that King? How in the world did that SIXTH finger sprout on his hand? Why is he so distressed? His eyes are full of shock and despair! His tiny crown covers 5 lonely strands of hair! He has a 5 o’clock shadow! Squiggles! Hand drawn typography! Rich color! It’s a perfect square!

Yes, I judge a book by its cover.

And its endpapers. A repeating pattern of 5s, subtly indicating our green king’s obsession with the number 5.

An extra endpaper! His kingdom, his castle: FIVE turrets.

The King’s 6th Finger is written by Jolby and Rachel Roethke Coddington. Jolby is the collaboration of illustrators Josh Kenyon and Colby Nichols. Clearly, they are the Brangelina of illustration. Seriously, if you google eye candy, the interwebz will magically take you to their website. Their work is clean, clever, and strong, and I dare you not to get lost in their archives. And just like I said with Amy Martin’s Symphony City, a The King’s 6th Finger print might be in my future.

There once was a simple king named Mortimer

Who had an obsessive compulsive disorder-er

I’ve already mentioned their gorgeous use of color and strong typography, but the layouts of these pages are remarkable. Line can be used to create shapes, but in these spreads, line is used to separate art from text, and to separate scenes from one another. The content and story in each spread is beautifully balanced, led by the lines created by the various blocks.

Can you see the Rule of Thirds at play here? The blue space on the right hand side occupies the bottom two-thirds of the page. Even though the upper third is split evenly in half, your eye is still appropriately directed around the page. The left hand page is also a perfect example of the Rule of Thirds as an appealing layout. The top third holds the text, and the bottom two thirds holds the picture. Our surprisingly short King, cradled in the hand of the beast, is perfectly placed at a dynamic crash point, where two imaginary horizontal and vertical lines intersect. Bold graphics placed intentionally, this is a great example of a layout that just plain works.

Lines create space for text, and space for pictures. The square shape of the book makes the rectangles inside have even more oomph and strength and appeal. And blue and orange on opposite pages? Perfect, as they are complementary colors on the color wheel, and instantly pack a strong visual punch.

Again, the lines on this page are implied by the separation of art from text. The 8 perfect squares remaining mimic the square shape of the book, which creates a really nice feeling of balance. This design choice is also a nice nod to the King himself as his greatest quirk (and problem) is his need for evenness and balance. {See, I wasn’t lying about Jolby being the Brangelina of Illustration…their design choices are top notch and definitely not accidental!}

By the end of the story, our King has changed his tune on the number 5. The endpapers at the back of the book are similar to the ones at the front, although this time, they don’t reflect an endless sea of 5s…

Curious how that happens? Check it out.

I Want My Hat Back

1 February 2012

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This book. These tweets. That bear.

Irresistible. I Want My Hat Back swooped in fiercely this fall and won my heart big time.

My hat is gone. I want it back.

The cover and those first lines above say it all. That poor wide eyed bear just wants his hat. Have YOU seen it? One by one, the bear asks his forest buddies and while I will give no spoilers, the bear gets (and gives!) what is deserved. So well done.

Jon Klassen’s art and words complement each other so well. I’m not the only one who thinks so; he did win a Geisel award this year. And I have so much to say about both! Buckle in.

The story is carried entirely in dialog, yet he doesn’t use any quotation marks or dialog tags. By simply changing the color of the text, the reader knows that someone different is speaking. Although the bear repetitively asks, “Have you seen my hat?” and the reader quickly realizes that pattern,  changing the text color is still an effective and yet subtle design choice.

My favorite? The turtle. That slow little squirt just wants to sunbathe on top of the rock. And he says please.

Even the endpapers succinctly tell of the bear’s plight. Take my word for it, but the initial endpapers show a hatless bear, and by the end:

Ultimately, (bold statement) all of Jon Klassen’s successes can be wrapped up in his excellent use of space.

Despite its name, white space doesn’t have to be white.

Huh?

It refers to the empty space in a layout between various elements. White space can exist between images in an illustrated spread, words and pictures, lines of type or even between graphic elements and the gutter. And usually it makes non-designers antsy. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…white space is intentional and NOT empty.

Think about Where’s Waldo. Sure its entertaining and a good time killer, but so many images are stuffed on a page that you have no idea where to start. Your poor, tired eyeballs dart to and fro and never rest because the picture is so visually overwhelming. White space counters this. It allows for your eye to rest in an image and to know where to look. You can digest information with more comfort and ease. And really? It just looks better. Trust me.

But it doesn’t necessarily have to be white:

Jon Klassen could have smushed all the animals into this spread. Or trees, clouds, aliens, or umbrellas…anything. Instead, he brilliantly matches sparse text with a bold graphic. Why mess up the words with a cluttered picture? Why mess up the picture with too many words?

{Answer: don’t.}

Though stark, his characters are full of emotion and life. Though few, his words spare nothing. Jon Klassen is a stunning designer; both his words and his pictures prove it.

Pomelo Begins To Grow

19 December 2011

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December is pulling a disappearing act. Please slow down, December. I haven’t had enough eggnog yet.

Still looking for a few books to slide under the tree? This one, illustrated by Benjamin Chaud and written by Ramona Badescu, is so pretty that you won’t even need wrapping paper.

As Pomelo went on his way one morning, he passed an ant, some potatoes, a pebble, a bunch of strawberries and his favorite dandelion.

Curiously enough, his dandelion seemed surprisingly small.

If the name Pomelo isn’t enough to instantly entice you to read, how about his elephant-ness? Yes? With a long, skinny, tape-measure trunk? He’s adorable. And growing.

Pomelo is quite worried about whether he will grow evenly all over. Or if he will turn big and gray and wrinkly.

And whether or not he will still just be a plain old kid.

The illustrations float a delicate line between restrained and fantastical, but each spread is equally inviting. Perhaps they even forgive an egregious grammar error? {Because Pomelo Begins To Grow was originally written in French, some of the wording may have been lost in translation. Hopefully this gets fixed on the next edition? It’s so lovely, that it would be a shame to not perfect it.}

ELEMENT OF DESIGN: SIZE

Size refers to the bigness and smallness of various objects. {Duh.} But in design, elements of equal size create confusion on a page, because your eye jumps around awkwardly and is not not sure where to land. Pairing items of different sizes within a composition yields a more dynamic piece. The pages of Pomelo Begins To Grow play with size differences in a quirky manner, a design choice that makes sense due to the growth and the quest of our hero.

But.

The greatest moment for size doesn’t even happen in the story. Behold: the endpapers.

{Insert sweet Pomelo’s story here.}

Very clever and very much why I love how design frames picture books. These endpapers summarize an already snappy story visually and quickly. A one-two punch of pretty.

Boom.

Little Blue and Little Yellow

28 November 2011

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Little Blue and Little Yellow, by Leo Lionni is one of those books that just feels good to hold and read and experience. It’s the story that launched his incredible career in childrens’ books, and remains today a masterpiece. Its birth was unusual and special. Leo Lionni was riding the train with his young grandchildren, and to entertain them, he tore colored pages from a LIFE magazine and created Little Blue and Little Yellow characters on the surface of his briefcase. Upon arriving home, he created a little physical book, and the very next night a friend, an editor, decided on the spot to publish it. Little Blue and Little Yellow launched Lionni’s career in picture books as well as his signature paper collage style.

I’m thankful for that train ride and restless grandchildren.

ELEMENT OF DESIGN: WHITE SPACE

Something you hear often as a designer is ‘fill that space up, it’s kinda empty’ or ‘just make the text bigger’ or ‘can’t you add more stuff to the frame?’ An untrained eye often sees white space as empty, while a designer’s intent may be just that: to preserve the space. White space functions as breathing room in an image, a resting place for the eyes, or to highlight the shape or form that is occupying the space. White space is deliberate as opposed to empty or ‘accidental leftovers.’

For white space to be especially beautiful and functional, it has to coexist in harmony with the other elements of composition. In Little Blue and Little Yellow, the little friends are highlighted as independent but loyal friends by their position on the page, their separation from the typography layout, and their home in the midst of white space. It is their story, and their home on the page draws your eye right into their world.

These pages are clearly not empty. They are full of wonder and delight and an engaging story told with simple but striking graphic elements.

Can you really look at that spread and not feel something? All of a sudden, the white space that was so comforting and warm highlights Little Blue and Little Yellow’s sadness and confusion.

But. SPOILER ALERT: There’s a happy ending.

FJOD

For Just One Day

10 November 2011

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For Just One Day by Laura Leuck, illustrated by Marc Boutavant.

For just one day, I’d like to be

A busy, buzzing bumble…BEE!

What child can’t relate to that? Heck, even I can.

{My cousin Mollie once said she wanted to be a tree when she grew up. She’s an elementary school teacher now. Rooted, solid, and embracing.}

ELEMENT OF DESIGN: PROPORTION

Closely related to balance, proportion signifies the relative sizes and weights of graphical elements on a page or a spread. This includes all art, text, and white space. Proportion can obviously refer to equally or unequally weighted elements, and different layouts are appropriate in different situations. For Just One Day is doing some interesting things with proportion on each spread. For this, kudos to illustrator Marc Boutavant and any other book designers involved on this project.

{Of course, they had brilliant words to illustrate written by Laura Leuck. I love the picture book as a whole, words PLUS pictures. It’s a beautiful success when matched so perfectly.}

Because of the guessing game nature of this book, the pattern naturally falls with the ‘answer’ on the left hand page and the next ‘question’ on the right. The stanzas are not related to each other and therefore their illustrations can be disconnected a bit, though never at the expense of overall harmony in the body of art.

The left hand page is rich with color and texture and a singular word created in hand drawn typography. These animal pages have incredible detail and quirky moments. A porcupine resting in a tree, writing in her journal? Sure.

A pink guitar playing porcupine writing fan mail to her Justin Bieber? YES.

The right page shows the narrator, always a round faced and wide eyed child, pondering his next choice. On this page, plenty of white space is left for the type to live and breathe and rest. The focus is the character, though unexpected details hop in as well.

An awake and blonde haired young’n, resisting sleep? Sure.

A crew of playful mice ignoring bedtime just above his head? YES. (And hey! Today’s Picture Book Month theme is MICE!)

But back to each spread as one piece. The intentional differences on either side of the gutter create stunning proportion, which increases the visual interest of For Just One Day.

And spoiler alert: Pick the spinach out of your teeth and run a brush through your hair before you sit down to read this one. Just sayin’. You’ll see.

All the World

25 October 2011

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Truth be told, All the World  slowly, steadily, and forcefully weaseled its way into my heart. It was not love at first sight. My problem? I love loud. I gravitate towards picture books that are rambunctious and kooky and fast paced. But once I shut up enough, I heard this beautiful lullaby of a story. Written by Liz Garton Scanlon, and illustrated by Marla Frazee, All the World celebrates both the simple and the complex wonders of the world, wraps you in a big bear hug, and sends you on your way. All the world in 32-ish pages and maybe 200 words.

Nest, bird, feather fly

All the world has got its sky

At the LA SCBWI conference a few months ago, I attended a session by Marla Frazee and the editor of All the World, Allyn Johnston. I still remember hearing Allyn say that writing picture books is an honor because you are writing for people who cannot yet read. And I remember Marla’s proclamation that kids are experts at reading pictures, and how that drives her illustrations.

ELEMENT OF DESIGN: BALANCE

Balance refers to the way all elements in a composition work together. Simple enough. Even the creation of this book through the dynamic collaboration among Liz, Marla, and Allyn exemplifies balance. This book belonged to no one artist. It was theirs. Marla consistently uses complete balance in her two page spreads and solo illustrations. Complete balance, also known as symmetrical balance, occurs when objects are distributed in equal parts around a center point.

It isn’t the exact number of people around the fountain that matters, but visually, each side has a similarly weighted crowd. The ship, boat and raft referenced in the words are generally along the vertical center of this page.

Additionally, Marla’s weapon of choice is circular balance. In a well balanced composition, your eye should cross the central division of it at least once. Circular balance assures that your eye continually moves around the composition, rather than abruptly darting from any one place to another.

Like here. Following the gaze of the little girl, your eye continues over the rocks, up to the boy, past his sandcastle, and back around to the little girl. And it begins again.

Fitting, right? Even in a small illustration, she reminds us of the continuity and unity of our world. Just as circles are never-ending, ‘All the world is everything / Everything is you and me.’

Love these trucks and their tracks, the rolling hills, and the farm’s bountiful greens. Love both the circular and complete balance. It’s a comforting and welcoming picture, perfectly drawn to tell this story.

I may be loud and obnoxious again tomorrow, but for now, I’m contentedly shushed and cozy.

{A lovely interview with both Liz and Marla on the collaborative process of creating All the World.}