Winter Selections from Mary Azarian's "A Farmer's Alphabet"

The atmosphere of a rural winter in her home state of Vermont, comes through clear in these woodcuts by Mary Azarian. Each scene featured here is a tribute to a way of life connected to the land and seasons.

In addition to the more common winter activities of sledding, shoveling, and building snowmen, there are mittens drying over an ornate, wood-burning stove, where an old-fashioned tea kettle boils. In another scene an adult pulls on a set of one-piece long johns with a buttoned back flap. These subjects, so varied in their patterns and textures, so colorless and harsh in their lighting, are particularly well-suited to the mark-making abilities of a master carver. 

The series was commissioned by Vermont's State Board of Education for display in classrooms. Maurice Sendak, one of the most acclaimed picture book illustrators in history, was often quoted as saying that he didn't make his work for children. For example, in one of his last interviews, he said,

I don't write for children. I write. And someone says, "That's for children."

Azarian was a teacher before she took to illustrating books with her stunning woodcuts, so she certainly must have had a sense of what interests children. That said, when I look at these images, I never feel that they are particularly made for children.

Certainly I can enjoy this book with my children. They are excited to point out scenes that relate to their experiences, and inquire about anything unfamiliar. But the level of sophistication found in these images make them captivating for any age.

Godine Press published it as a beautifully bound, large gift book in 1981, and it continues to sell. It is definitely worth either buying or finding a copy in a library. It isn't enough to see it on a screen. One must leaf through the heavy, archival paper and really take in the exquisite details found in each lovingly carved image.





To borrow another quote from Sendak:

A book is really like a lover. It arranges itself in your life in a way that is beautiful. 

"Winter Birds" by Lisa Toth

Image posted with the permission of the artist. View and purchase more of Lisa Toth's prints at her Etsy store. I wrote previously about one of Toth's prints here. 

The moon shines on a staircase of plump, resident birds. They prefer the cold (up to a certain limit, of course), it's an excuse to rest. Also, winter chases off the riffraff, and then these stalwarts can enjoy the hidden bounty of the season in peace and solitude. 

Moonlight, not near as warm or bright as the sun, but beautiful and mysterious with its silver rays. 

One of Donald Judd's (Black and White) Woodcuts

I was reading up a bit on Donald Judd for this article I wrote in my Humanist Mom blog, and in doing so I discovered that Judd was a prolific woodcut print-maker, starting back in the 1950's. Poking around the Internet I'm now shocked I didn't know about Judd's woodcuts before. They're stunning! You can find more info and many images here.

I'm sure I'll write about Judd's color woodcuts with more dynamic compositions in future posts. But for today, this simple, black and white image most stirs my heart.

Is it cold in here?

To my recollection, the lines were straight across. I didn't count. How straight? I couldn't say. How straight is the trajectory of a drop of rain? What was in between? I hadn't considered that before, but now I'm sort of obsessed. The horizon stretches as far as we can see. There's more air in this room than flesh. More is said with silence than words. What we find between the lines can change everything.

Is it getting warmer?

Groundhog Day 2014

Almost time for Groundhog Day, and as I now live in Pennsylvania, the birthplace of this charming holiday, I have decided to begin an annual tradition of designing a Groundhog Day image to put on greeting cards.

My, he seems earnest in his existential plea. I suppose he deserves some sort of reply. Let me think...

Well, if you see your shadow, it's supposed to frighten you back into your burrow, and for some reason this means winter is prolonged. If February 2nd is dreary, you'll not see your shadow and spring will come sooner. (Which is kind of ironic seeing as that if you see your shadow it's a sunny day.) There's apparently some mystery and debate as to exactly how this particular bit of lore started and what it originally meant, which may not matter all that much since it is certainly not how most people would take it today. How they take it today is... er, well, I'm going to have to go with Douglas Adams on that one and say maybe 42?

"Tree No. 15" (version II) by Andrea Starkey

Image posted with the permission of the artist. More of Andrea Starkey's work can be found at her website, blog, and Etsy store.

The icicles make the trees seem to hang their heads and drip, a gesture as sorrowful as a weeping willow. But really there is not a drop of movement, nor a whisper of sound. The sky is so terribly still and gray. Time itself seems to have stopped, and we have been given a long moment to reflect on the sound of silence, the extremes of black and white, and the mystery of the number zero.

Each icicle has its own unique contours, unique as a snowflake. They stand together in lines like disheveled soldiers. White and weather-worn, like bleached bones. Skulls without eye sockets.

Cold as the frozen over river that ceases to flow. Cold as a tomb in January. Cold as the top of the tallest mountain. Should we weep over this cold? Or instead use it as an excuse to close in tight with each other for warmth? Loyal 'til the end and beyond.

Owl and Cat in Love, "First Date" (double page spread pages 5-6)

"First Date"
Woodcut (reduction)
20" x 9.5" (image)
24" x 15" (paper)
Oil based inks on Subi paper
Limited edition of 4

The holidays are over, it's a new year, and I am definitely back on this Owl and Cat in Love project.

Having met while hunting the same rabbit, the two decide to share dinner. A little foreshadowing of their voyage with the guitar, sea, and green boat, and their future tropical island home with the wallpaper behind them. I designed the composition in a way to echo the dramatic love-at-first-sight gaze from the previous double-page spread, with the double arches on the right side and round window and moon on the left, both of which resemble eyes.

I'm going for a minimal effect with color. I plan to stick with the same limited palette - dominated by orange-brown and ultramarine blue - throughout the book. I'd also like to have some of the wood grain visible in just about every page. I love how both of these techniques can be used to make objects seem ethereal. The wallpaper melting into the blue of the sea, the animals camouflaged against the wood floor.

We shall see what happens on the journey. I always have a plan, but the muse is the boss.

"Homage to George Jackson" by Antonio Frasconi

We must rapidly begin the shift from a "thing-oriented" society to a "person-oriented" society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered. 

-Martin Luther King Jr.  

The woodcut master Antonio Frasconi died just about a year ago. (You can read his his NY Times obituary here.) He often made political images and was committed as an artist to social justice, as seen in this image he created of the Black Panther activist George Jackson.

I find it a difficult and haunting image to look at. A striking arrangement of textures punctuated by sharp shapes of black that sink into endless voids. Jackson's figure, helplessly bound on the ground, is a mountain of fabric, flesh, and metal, against stark and blindly white light. The bottom of a shoe, a bent knee, clenched fists, they all struggle against the chains that hold him down. He wears an expression of raw pain. No matter how much people are dehumanized by enemies, how much they are made to suffer, humanity can't be stripped away. All people... All people.