Birgitte-Gustavsen

Yesterday my favorite author died, aged 66. I am neither family or friend, and yet I cried. The idea that I will never again pick up a new, pristine and unread book by him, quite frankly, sucks. Opening up the newest addition to my bookshelf was like a second Christmas, and at his most prolific it came around just about every year.

His imagination was tremendous, only overshadowed by the funny things he could do with English. I suspect he must have loved words a great deal, and possibly they loved him back. My copied of his books have cracked and loose spines, with nicks, bumps and yellowing pages. I do not forget the stories, but the delight I take in reading his English never fades.

His world could cheer me up when nothing else would, and for that I loved him. Reading his books made me want to write too, and for his skills I admired him.

 

Just because something is funny, doesn't mean it's not serious. Just because it's unreal, doesn't mean it's not true.

 

I will miss him. 


Noli Timere Messorem

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My productive summer, where did you go? I had such plans for it. I was going to make real headway with the books I'm planning to write, and the paintings, oh my. Then the heat came and more or less knocked me out. But finally autumn came with its more reasonable air. Time to get cracking, that book won't write itself.

It's been autumn for a month now, and the trees are heading fast towards serious baldness. And all I've got to show for it is a handful of pages. Foiled by writing block once more! I swear I try to make time for writing and painting, but not a lot of either seems to happen...where the heck are my hours going?

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I've been gone for a lot longer then I ever intended or wished. My book is at least done and published, I'll post some images of it later. I've not had a good flow to my drawings for a while, rusty perhaps after spending so much time on just one project. So, hoping to dust myself off and get back into the productive fray, I'm back  

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I may need an early advance on miracles There's no better season for selling a book, especially one aimed at children, than Christmas. Which apparently starts 1st of November in the world of merchandise...and printing takes 3 week making early October my deadline. And as I'll be needing those sales, I had better buckle down and draw like my life depended on it.

And so i fear I am not going to be answering comments regularly like I want to There has and is also a shortage on new works posted, but once I've polished and pampered up a few from the book I have permission to show them.

Basically, I'm not dead. I will just look a bit deadish

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Seems my commissioning days will have to wait, as I'm preparing for the next national autumn art show. I started out early, I really did. Yet somehow the deadline has pounced upon me again With basically one month left, where one week will be set of for getting good prints, I've got a semi finished painting, a sketch for a second entry and not even an idea for a third. I really thought I would avoid the rat race of last year. And yet here I am, in the maze again.  

There is the general feeling in the family that considering the current taste of the autumn art show I am wasting my time, as my plain stationary two dimensional images neither squawks, squeaks, or flutter from an air conditioners breeze. Installation it seems, are In. But at least some painters and drawers sneak past those guarded gates, and even *gasp* a handful of figurative artists among them. And so I will once more join that large herd of hopefuls, and aim to sneak in along with others of my kind

I am also more or less hired to illustrate a fairytale book. Though as it is a printers pet project it's not a priority in terms of time and the funding is from family pockets, so it may take a year or even longer before it's actually published. Part of my pay will also rely on sales, so I have to do my best to make it one whooper of a book that will be loved and bought. By a lot of people. Lots and lots of people Though I think my daydreams of children book of the year award is a bit too optimistic But even if my dreams of large scale success aren't accomplished, it will still be my first professional job of note, and something to show future clients.

Meanwhile I have a lot of work between me and publishing day, where I will have to learn to draw birds, bears, foxes and make interesting troll designs.

And of course, follow that cheesy smell of optimistic ambition towards the national autumn art show

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