Archive for the ‘Guest Authors’ Category

Jing Wei is a Chinese-born illustrator and printmaker. She currently resides in Brooklyn, NY and works out of a studio in Greenpoint.

How old were you when first began dabbling in art? What medium did you begin with and do you have a favorite one that you use or a particularly favorite piece you’ve created?

I used to have a magnetic drawing board toy that I was obsessed with as a kid. Does that count as a medium? My favorite thing to draw was really generic looking fish. I’ve never made any great fish-related pieces in my adult life, but I did make a few collages recently that I was really happy with. That’s definitely my favorite medium right now.

What inspired Divers Journal? Was it originally contracted by a client?

I had originally created the sketch of that piece for a financial magazine, which is definitely not the first thing that comes to mind when you look at the image! The prompt had something to do with target-date investing. The sketch was rejected, but I was able to use a gallery show opportunity as motivation to resurrect it.

How does woodblock printing work—how do you create a woodblock print and how many prints can a typical press withstand?

I actually print everything by hand, though I would love to have a press in the studio. Right now I just use a bamboo disc baren to burnish the back of the paper, and finish it off with a bone folder. I use the reductive woodblock printing technique, which means I carve each layer from one piece of wood, as opposed to multiple. Basically, I print each layer of color from lightest to darkest, and carve the information away as I go. It’s a faster process and makes registration super easy, even though it limits the number of prints I can make.

Finally, do you have any sort of routine you go through when you’re having artist’s block?

I mostly get stuck on concept and ideas, in the sketch phase of a job. But I don’t really see that as having artist’s block, because there is a problem-solving aspect that is always very practical. Whenever I feel like I’m having trouble with an assignment, I just drop it for a while and go do something else that doesn’t require much brainpower. Watching music videos and eating snacks has consistently proven to be helpful in this department.

Leave a comment and you’ll be eligible to win the Divers Journals that we’ll be giving away to three randomly selected lucky persons (offer good in the US and Canada only).

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Big congratulations to our guest blogger for this week, Diane Morgan—winner of 2013 IACP and James Beard Foundation cookbook awards! (She is also the author of 17 other cookbooks.) Roots has been included on lists of featured cookbooks for 2012 by The New York Times, Washington Post, Chicago Tribune, Christian Science Monitor, The Seattle Times, Epicurious.com, and The Daily Meal.com.

Finding Our Roots
by Diane Morgan

I was young when the back-to-the-earth natural foods movement of the 1960s started. When Frances Moore Lappe’s seminal book, Diet for a Small Planet, was published in 1971, I bought it and read it cover to cover. To my mother’s dismay, I declared myself a vegetarian who only ate fish—what is labeled a pescatarian today. It was a valiant effort that didn’t last once I went to college.

I look back on those beginnings and think about where we are today, thanks to victory gardens, community-supported agriculture (CSAs), a growing network of farmers’ markets, and ever-expanding national chains of natural foods stores. When the big box stores promote packaged and fresh organic products, you know the message has trickled down. And the push toward healthier eating continues with schoolyard gardens and with educational initiatives coming directly from the White House.

Are we finding our roots? Are we going back today, to generations not so long ago, when our grandparents and great-grandparents ate seasonally and shopped locally because that was their only option? They ate roots because they were cheap, stored well, and were nutritious. They pickled and preserved and planted backyard gardens out of necessity and economy.

I remember fondly the tomatoes my father grew and the sinus-clearing horseradish my grandfather uprooted from his garden in preparation for Passover. My maternal great grandmother “put up” pickles, canned beets, and turned summer fruit into preserves. The neat rows of filled and labeled glass canning jars lined her basement pantry. On a low shelf were the crocks of pickles covered with linen cloth.

What I think of as the revival of back-to-basics home cooking is what our forebears did out of necessity. Bread was baked at home, soup stocks were made from a mishmash of vegetable scraps and bones simmered all day on a back burner, cabbage was fermented and turned into sauerkraut, leftovers were eaten, and nothing was wasted.

I love this sensibility, and believe root vegetables, moreso than many other edible plants, reflect these earlier times of scarcity and economy.

Without the threat of war in Europe, my great-grandparents on my paternal side emigrated from Munich, Germany in the 1850s, prior to the American Civil War. They found their roots in Savannah, Georgia. My maternal great-grandparents emigrated from Lithuania in the 1880s. Like most leaving Europe, they came to the land of promise and opportunity, living modestly as they built a better life. I know from my grandparents’ and parents’ love of family gatherings that their Jewish traditions and holiday foods thrived. Old world ingredients, cooking methods, and recipes were passed down.

These family stories of uncertainty, travel, and hardship from the Old World to the New World are not unlike the intriguing tales of a vegetable’s diaspora from its origins to scattered lands. It’s a lovely metaphor to consider.

Most root vegetables have curious lore and odd stories from antiquity. Stories range from how some roots were used medicinally as aphrodisiacs and to how others were used to treat scurvy. The carrot common in every supermarket today was originally purple in color, native to Afghanistan, and can be traced back three thousand years. However, upon arrival in Europe, its purple hue was not well accepted, and it wasn’t until it was hybridized in the Netherlands from its original purple color to orange that it found favor.

The Buddhists held lotus root sacred as a symbol of purity. It is native to tropical Asia, the Middle East, and Australia, and has been cultivated for more than two thousand years. By around 500 BC it was being grown in the Nile Valley for its exceptional beauty, though the poor found greater value in boiling, drying, and grinding the seeds and rhizomes for food. In China, evidence of its cultivation dates to the Han dynasty (207 BC–AD 220). In India, a golden lotus flower is said to have grown from the navel of the god Vishnu, and, in China and Japan, Buddha is often depicted either holding or seated on a lotus blossom.

An Old World vegetable popular in central Europe and the Netherlands, parsley root is just beginning to catch on in the United States, where it is most commonly found at farmers’ markets. It was grown and used in Germany in the sixteenth century and was introduced to England from the Netherlands in the eighteenth century, though it never really caught on with cooks there. In central Europe, parsley root was one of several vegetables and herbs known as Suppengruen, or “soup greens,” which were traditionally added to the water in which poultry or beef was boiled for use in a soup or stew. If you ask a grandmother of Jewish or central European descent for a list of the essential ingredients in chicken soup, she is likely to include parsley root—my maternal grandmother did!

These tales of families and foods are intriguing and deeply interwoven—not to be forgotten, and in many instances revived. That was my hope in writing my cookbook Roots.

Kashmiri-Style Turnips With Greens

This is an adaptation of a recipe from Raghavan Iyer’s splendid 660 Curries, using baby turnips with their bushy greens instead of the kohlrabi Iyer suggests. Like kohlrabi, turnips “come alive in the presence of sweet fennel, pungent ginger, hot chiles, and smoky cardamom.” Iused two leafy bunches of baby turnips in this recipe, cutting the turnips into halves or quarters, depending on their size. Iused more than half of the greens from the tops. Since the greens cook down so much, you could chop and add all of them if you wanted to, adding a tad more cream at the end of the cooking time to make enough sauce.

Serves 4

2 tbsp canola or other neutral oil
1 serrano chile, stemmed, halved lengthwise, seeded, deribbed, and finely minced
1 tbsp peeled and minced fresh ginger
2 black cardamom pods
1 tsp fennel seeds, ground in a mortar or spice grinder
14 oz/400 g baby turnips, trimmed and halved or quartered, depending on their size
2/3 cup/165 ml water
1 tsp kosher or fine sea salt
About 4 cups/120 g lightly packed chopped turnip greens (from just over 2 bunches baby turnips)
2 tbsp heavy whipping cream

1. In a medium saucepan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the chile and ginger and sauté until fragrant and soft but not brown, about 2 minutes. Add the cardamom pods and fennel and sauté just until aromatic, about 20 seconds. Add the turnips, water, and salt and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the turnips are almost tender when pierced with a fork, about 5 minutes. Pack the greens on top, cover, and let the greens wilt, about 3 minutes longer.

2. Give the greens and turnips a gentle stir and then add the cream. Simmer, uncovered, over low heat until slightly thickened, about 2 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve immediately.

Purchase Roots: The Definitive Compendium with More Than 225 Recipes.

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This week we’re so excited to have BikeSnobNYC guest posting on the blog. BikeSnobNYC (a.k.a. Eben Weiss) is the blogger behind bikesnobnyc.blogspot.com and writes a regular column in Bicycling magazine. Check out the mini-site to learn more about his books, Bike Snob, The Enlightened Cyclist, and Bike Snob Abroad, enter our Bike Month Giveaway for a chance to win a bike and a copy of Bike Snob Abroad, and tune in to a virtual chat with Fat Cyclist this Thursday.

In Boston? Meet up with BikeSnobNYC for a ride and booksigning with Landry’s Bicycles this Saturday, May 18!

In my latest book, Bike Snob Abroad, I write a lot about cycling as a family—you know, the kind of cycling where you actually do stuff together, as opposed to the kind where you put on some stretchy clothes and go off on your own to try to get a good time on Strava.

In particular, I write about cycling with a child in tow, which is something I’ve been doing for a couple of years now. (I mean I’ve been doing it with my child, I didn’t just borrow one.) As Americans, we’re pretty comfortable with putting on stretchy clothes and beating our best time on Strava, and we’re even pretty good at getting on a bike to go to the store, but we’ve got a long way to go as far cycling with a child passenger being considered “normal.”

I’m no different than most Americans, and I have a lot to learn in the “riding with kids” department. However, I have managed to figure out some stuff so far, which I’ll share with you herewith.

So, Like, Where Do You Put The Kid?
If you don’t want to spring for a giant Dutch-style bakfiets, there are three basic ways you can adapt your current bicycle to carry your child: a front-mounted seat, a rear-mounted seat, or a trailer. Here are the pros and cons of each:

Front:
Pros: Better weight distribution, you get to interact with your child.
Cons: Lower child weight limit, you have to interact with your child so it’s harder to ignore their incessant requests to “stop for ice cream” or to “please slow down” because they’re “scared.”

Rear:
Pros: Higher child weight limit, larger seats more conducive to napping.
Con: It may take a day or it may take a year, but your child will learn how to give you a wedgie.

Trailer:
Pros: Stable, weatherproof, kid can bring his or her favorite toys.
Cons: You’ll need to find someplace to store a bike trailer, bike may be less maneuverable, and your dry child will laugh and taunt you when it rains.

Kids Like To Be On Bikes
It’s true! A bike can turn even a mundane journey into a delightful one. You can drive down the same street a million times and be bored to tears, and then all of a sudden you do it by bike and it becomes an expedition filled with wonder. In the car, all they really see is the seatback. On the bike, they’ll point out all the stuff they never noticed before (“It’s Santa!” they’ll squeal with delight as you pedal past the bearded wino sleeping under the overpass) with one hand while they administer a massive wedgie to you with the other.

You Are Now At The Public’s Disposal
People generally won’t look twice if you ride with your child in the park, but if you actually use the bike to do stuff around town you tend to draw lots attention. You know how nobody’s interested in you when you help your kid into your Hyundai? Well, it doesn’t work that way with bikes. When you show up at school or the local grocery store, expect your neighbors to loiter and gawk while you load or unload, and they expect you to account for yourself. Mostly they’ll ask you questions about your child seat and comment on what a lovely day for a bike ride it is, which is their polite way of letting you know they think you’re totally crazy. Occasionally, they’ll also congratulate you for being “green,” which means they think you think you’re better than them.

You Will Be Judged
Your neighbors don’t just think you’re crazy because you’re doing all the work by pedaling instead of driving. Some of them also think you’re crazy because they’ve been brainwashed by the automotive industrial complex to think that bikes are “dangerous” whereas cars are “safe.” As far as some people are concerned, riding a bike to Whole Foods at 9mph is somehow much more reckless than driving a top-heavy SUV at 70mph while simultaneously following a GPS and rooting around under the passenger seat for your crying kid’s sippy cup.

Still, It’s All Worth It
It’s corny, but it’s true: riding with your child is even more rewarding than that Strava KOM. (Or at least I’m assuming it is, since I’ve never actually attained a Strava KOM.) And the more people do it, the more normal it will become—which I hope happens soon, because if another person congratulates me for being “green” I think I’m going to puke.

Purchase Bike Snob Abroad: Strange Customs, Incredible Fiets, and the Quest for Cycling Paradise

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Our guest blogger today is Lisa Congdon—visual artist extraordinaire—providing insight into the beautifully illustrated edition of Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons: Objects that’s been recently released. If you leave a comment on the post you’ll be eligible to win a copy of the book that we’ll reward to a randomly selected lucky person (offer good in the US and Canada only).

The Making of the Illustrated Tender Buttons: Objects

Before I became an illustrator, I don’t think I gave much thought to how illustrated books came together. What I’ve learned since then is that illustrating a book is an iterative, collaborative process that often takes months and months of back and forth (concepting and sketching) between illustrator and art director (and sometimes editor or author). When I got the job to illustrate Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons: Objects, I knew I was in for a treat. I’d been mildly obsessed with the life of Gertrude Stein since I was in my early 20’s and had recently been to see the incredible exhibit Seeing Gertrude Stein at the Contemporary Jewish Museum which featured her life and work. But I also knew Stein’s poetry, which is purposely nonsensical and bizarre, and so I realized the job would also be challenging. Her poetry reads like an abstract painting, and I was charged with drawing more literal illustrations. So the collaboration with my editor and art director to come up with just the right set of illustrations was key.

Step One: Concepting

The first step in most illustration jobs, at least when you are illustrating a book, is to concept. This just means brainstorming different ideas for what an illustration could be. This always happens after I’ve gotten art direction and know what my parameters are. For me, concepting happens on a notepad or in a sketchbook that no one but me ever sees. For Tender Buttons, concepting was an important phase since I was illustrating poems that were word play and had no central obvious theme. Brainstorming was a MUST! I needed to read each poem and then think about what words or phrases in the poem might translate into something more literal. For example, here’s the poem in the book called A Little For Pauline:

A little called anything shows shudders.


Come and say what prints all day. A whole few watermelon. There is no pope.

No cut in pennies and little dressing and choose wide soles and little spats really little spices.

A little lace makes boils. This is not true.

Gracious of gracious and a stamp a blue green white bow a blue green lean, lean on the top.

If it is absurd then it is leadish and nearly set in where there is a tight head.


A peaceful life to arise her, noon and moon and moon. A letter a cold sleeve a blanket a shaving house and nearly the best and regular window.

Nearer in fairy sea, nearer and farther, show white has lime in sight, show a stitch of ten. Count, count more so that thicker and thicker is leaning.

It goes on a few more lines, but you get the idea. It makes no sense! In this poem, while concepting what I could illustrate, I decided that Pauline was a boat (note the sea reference) and that she would be held up by a girl wearing a blue green white bow. I made sure to illustrate a moon above them and then include counting in the illustration. You can see there were many other directions I could have gone, but it was always impossible to include every visual reference in one illustration. Here’s how the final illustration came out in the end. As you can see, I got to use my imagination, which was great fun.

Step Two: Sketching

Immediately after concepting, I sketch. Unlike my initial concepting notes or super rough sketches, these sketches are sent to the publisher (art director and editor) for approval before moving to final artwork. When you illustrate a book, you almost always “roughly” sketch the image in pencil or pen first. That way, you don’t make the final artwork (which can often take loads of time) only to have it rejected or need massive changes. If you work on a book of 50 illustrations, you make 50 sketches. If a sketch isn’t approved off the bat, you make another and sometimes another! It can be a long process, but it’s necessary to get the sketches just right before moving to final artwork. Once a sketch is approved, you move on to final artwork. Below you can see the series of sketches I made for the poem A Petticoat. At first I concepted and sketched a horse in a petticoat and, after some back and forth with the team at Chronicle, we decided that the focus should remain on the dress (and not on the horse) so I changed the horse to a girl. That sketch was approved and I moved to final artwork, which is the final image below.

Step Three: Final Artwork

Once sketches are approved, I move on to making final artwork. This is perhaps the most exciting part of the process! For Tender Buttons, I used a combination of graphite (pencil) and gouache, which is a water-based paint. Once I completed a drawing for the book, I scanned it at very high resolution and then “cleaned it up” in Photoshop. When I clean up images digitally, that just means that I make color adjustments, correct any paint splotches that may have occurred while I was drawing, and make sure everything looks just as I’d like it to appear in the book.

Here are a few of my favorite illustrations from the book:

As you can imagine if you have read even part of it, illustrating Tender Buttons: Objects was one of the most challenging experiences in my career. However, I love a challenge, so it was also one of the most exciting. I think it’s a great experience to have illustration jobs that push you outside your comfort zone and Chronicle allowed me so much creative freedom with this book that I was able to tap parts of my brain that I had never used before. Thank you, Chronicle, for this opportunity, and thank you for having me as a guest blogger today. I hope you enjoyed learning more about making Tender Buttons: Objects!

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With Mother’s Day upon us, we asked author and mother Traer Scott to be a guest blogger this week. Her new book, Newborn Puppies, is full of teeny, tiny, adorable pups between 1-21 days old. Read on for her post, and meet Traer this weekend at The Fish & Bone in Portland, Maine on Saturday and at The Fish & Bone in Boston on Sunday. Scott will also sign books on June 16th at R.J. Julia in Madison, Connecticut and at 1PM on June 29th at Barnes & Noble in Warwick, Rhode Island.

Newborn Puppies was conceived out of a love of dogs and a longing to nurture. For years, my husband and I had yearned to become parents and, during that time, I found myself increasingly obsessed with babies: friends’ babies, strangers’ babies, babies around the world, babies in movies—and so on. My biological clock no longer ticked, it roared. So, I often joke that I originally got the idea for Newborn Puppies as a result of just having babies on the brain, but in truth, it’s as good an explanation as any. The images in the book greatly resemble the newborn portraits we take of our children, yet these are of dogs: pure breed dogs, mixed breed dogs, abandoned dogs and champion show dogs alike. Despite immensely varied backgrounds and bloodlines, these newborns, much like human infants, share far more similarities than differences.

Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier/Standard Poodle Mix (Whoodle), 2 days old.

American Staffordshire Terriers, 17 days old.

Golden Retriever/Chocolate Labrador Retriever Mix, 17 days old.

American Staffordshire Terrier, 17 days old.

Fortunately, fate soon favored us with a beautiful baby girl, so much of the time that I was actually working on Newborn Puppies, I, like my subjects, was adjusting to life as a new mom. Because of this serendipitous parallel, I found myself in a unique position to observe firsthand how many of our most fundamental experiences of motherhood are also shared by dog mothers. For example, it seems that perhaps all new moms (even the really exhausted, disheveled, un-showered, dying-for-a-break moms like me) experience separation anxiety, and dogs are no different.

Irish Wolfhound with pups.

Generally when I would come to someone’s home to do photographs, the mother dog was separated from the puppies during the shoot. Dog mamas are instinctually protective and most of them (understandably) don’t care for strangers fondling their puppies or sticking big, clunky cameras in their faces, so it’s best to put Mom outside or in another room for a bit, and the dogs were usually very grateful for a break. A chance to go romp and run outside for a few minutes without a pack of little furry bodies trying to climb her was a cause for celebration. After a half hour or so, however, most of the mamas became very anxious and began whining and scratching at the door to come back in. When the door was opened, they burst through it, trampling anything in their path to get back to their puppies and then frantically sniffing, licking and nuzzling them until finally settling down to nurse.

An outtake from the book: German Short Haired Pointer litter.

An outtake from the book: A 2-day-old Weimeraner is bottle fed.

I felt the same ebb and flow of emotions when I slowly began to work again after my daughter was born. Although during midnight feedings, crack of dawn wake-up cries, and epic attempts at sleep training, I longed for someone—anyone—to come and relieve me, after a few hours of “freedom,” I simply longed to have my baby back in my arms. While it’s true that our greeting does not (usually) involve sniffing or licking, my daughter is an expert nuzzler and the contentment and completeness that I feel with her in my arms is worth all of the sleepless nights in the world. That too is something that most moms can agree on.

Siberian Husky, 4 days old.

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