Venturing out beyond these studio walls...

On the morning of June 19, 2008, approximately 35 people from The University of Findlay's Mazza Musem (the world's largest museum devoted to literacy and the art of children's picture books) stepped off a very large touring bus in front of my house, crammed themselves into my humble studio, and listened to my articulations on the subject of telling a story visually… illustrating children’s books. Something I’m very passionate about. Good thing they didn’t ask about my views on deep dish versus thin crust, or they’d still be here… I am, after all, a Chicago boy. 

                                         Note the cameras        

                                              

I’ll never forget, during the course of their visit, being asked to say a few words in welcoming them to my home and studio. That was their first mistake. I don’t do “few words,” just ask my kids. (Incidentally, their second mistake was having me sign every copy of Grandpa’s Little One, Junk Man’s Daughter, The Legend of St. Nicholas, and The Day I Could Fly, not to mention a few of my earlier books that I can’t recall at the moment, that I had in my inventory... I love to sign books.) Can you say rock star? Which of course was my first passion in life. More on that later…

                                                            Note the hair

But, to my delight, these wonderful, picture-book people gathered in my living room for what could have easily turned into days, had I not run out of ways to say the same thing over and over at least 5 or 6 times. If at first you don’t succeed re-state your point…that’s my motto.

Please understand, the majority of my work happens inside of my head while sitting at a drawing table or in front of a computer within the four walls of my modest, yet comfortable, working space, 7 days a week. I don’t even want to know how many dog-years I've racked up in my studio since graduating art school. 

                                                          Note the bare feet

Therefore, when a large group of people who are extremely interested in what, and how, I do what I do, travel over 1,000 miles just to meet and hear me talk about my passion for illustrating and writing children’s books… I will answer the door, believe me. “Come on in, have a seat, there’s plenty of room. Let me tell you about the time when I was 7 years old, fell out of a tree, and when I finally came to, decided to devote my life to the writing and illustrating of children’s picture books.

                                                          Note the long line

Well, this fine group of people from the Mazza Museum invited me, right then and there, to travel to the University of Findlay and speak at their 2010 Mazza Summer Conference. How did they know I had more to say on the subject of writing and illustrating children’s picture books? These are very smart people, folks!

I will have the honor of being one of the keynote speakers at this year's Mazza Summer Conference on July 12th and various sessions and workshops lasting the whole week. So, if you are "at one" with the fine art of picture book illustration, love to hear a good story, or just want to challenge me on that whole deep dish versus thin crust thing, stop by. Here’s the link  The Mazza Summer Conference

The whole thing makes me smile.

                                                      Note the smile

The half-life of a great idea...

 Did you ever wonder what happens to unfinished manuscripts? They get put in the darkest part of your brain, buried in an old steamer trunk under a mountain of useless information like your old bicycle lock combination from 3rd grade, secret Batman hand shake, and the log-in password to that new facebook account you set up last week. Go figure.  There they sit, hoping against hope that someday they get the go-ahead to move on to the next plane, or drift away and evaporate forever. It's so sad. Hang in there story of mine, I'll break you out of that place as soon as I can.

A great story trumps a pretty good one every time, and I can always tell when I have a pretty good story. There's just a little something about it that's not quite right. It's like a bump in the road that you've become accustomed to after running over it so many times; you almost forget that it's there, but there it is. Same with an illustration. I could swear that it's the second Mona Lisa... except for that, thing, over there—that, kind of disconnected thought that doesn't really make any sense... Maybe no one will notice. Or maybe I'm just over thinking it. Yeah, right. It you see it, everyone sees it. It's an all or nothing game folks. It either works, or it's just a pretty good rough draft. 

So therefore, I decided to ignore my little writing obstruction (if you ignore it, it'll go away) by painting a portrait. One of my favorite things to do. I've told you how much I enjoy telling a story with my artwork... Well, this is the same thing. The story is in the facial expression. Here's my sketch.

What's this Guy been up to?

  

Painted another portrait for BizTucson magazine. This
time Greg Byrne, new athletic director at the University of Arizona. Lots of fun. It will appear in the next issue of BizTucson.














Here's the preliminary sketch.

Very quick, just enough to show my intended composition before I got started. You can see how the final painting changed a bit from this sketch.

                                                                              
                                                              

Painted for an article highlighting

C-path's ability to streamline

the process of the development

of new medical products.                                              
                                              

A Tee shirt design for a local swim team.

Me—circa 1987

My good friend John Edwards, also an illustrator, and also featured in the same article on freelance illustrators, recently posted this clipping of me at my drawing table. I’m happy to say that I finally did somehow manage to find out-of-town work. I remember how important it was to me in those days to become a nationally recognized illustrator. But don't you like the phrase "out-of-town?" Tucson wasn't that small in 1987.

I’ll be right with you…

Recently, inspiration hit me over the head with a really great book idea. I spent the last two weeks writing and sketching. I’ve already sent it to my publisher… 

Now back to our regularly scheduled blogging…

This is an illustration I did of Sean Miller 

for the winter issue of BizTucson magazine.

Mr. Microphone…

A couple of weeks ago I did a phone interview for a small local newspaper promoting the Tucson Festival of Books, which took place this past weekend, and my participation in it. No big deal. I’ve done this kind of thing before. The nice thing about doing an interview over the phone rather than in person is that you can do other things while talking. I pace. If someone had opened a door while I was on the phone, I may have ended up in Indiana before the conversation was over.

“Hello Mr. Porfirio? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about your work and life as an illustrator.” “Fire away!” (Thought bubble), “I’ve got this guy right where I want him–heh heh heh.” I’m always in control. Unless, of course, I’m feeling a little stress, uncomfortable, in the middle of a high fever, or under anesthesia. Other than that, I’m solid, a regular secret agent man. “What’s that? The plans for the new inter-planetary space transporter? Sure thing; behind the credenza– top left hand side–hidden panel. Tap it three times and slide it to the right. Here’s the key. Just leave it under the mat on your way out.” I’m pretty sure I told this unsuspecting reporter my shoe size. Not that he or the reading public needed to know that bit of information or even what my favorite pizza toppings are for that matter, sausage, onions, and green peppers just in case your wondering. See what I mean? But for some reason, that came out too. Ask me no questions and I tell you no lies, but if you do ask me a question I’ll start at the beginning. 

This is one of the highlights of my drawing workshop.

I call it... The Chair Guy.

Moving toward the light…

Working on a book project is like navigating though a long cave-like tunnel. I like this analogy for a couple of reasons, but the main one would have to be the amazing similarity of navigating through a dark treacherous cave, to finding my way from sketches to final artwork. I told you this was a dangerous business! Believe it or not, it’s the in-between stuff that’ll get you. The darkness of a cave and the many detours that branch off of the main cave work perfectly for this analogy. Even though I have a clear vision of what my final paintings will look like, I could easily take a wrong turn or stumble down a unforeseen tunnel and then suddenly my painting doesn’t work in the context of the story I’m illustrating. I typically get about 6 months to do a 32-page picture book, give or take a month. So, theoretically, I’m in that cave scenario for quite some time.

Three weeks ago I emerged from the cave-tunnel. I finished and delivered all final artwork for a book project that I started back in August. What a feeling! What an achievement! What am I going to do now? I went from “yes!!!” to “alright then, what’s for dinner?” It’s always the same, sort of quiet and anti-climactic. I did just emerge from that scary cave. Did anyone notice? Hello? I guess I expected a brass band or something, a standing ovation maybe. The wave perhaps. And why not? How many people does it take to do the wave properly? I’m guessing three. And as it just so happens, I have three people who could have done it for me. But no. “Could it kill you to do the wave for me when I finish a book?” Just once, I’d like to step out of my studio after completing a very demanding book project and see a halfway decent attempt at the wave. “I don’t ask for much; a little fame and fortune, and the wave from time to time. That’s all.” These people are too used to me. “Oh look, someone let dad out of his studio. Mom do you know about this?” Oh well. I’ve crossed the finish line. I’ve made the cut... I’m going on through to the next round. (A little American Idol lingo there, and very apropos I might add.)

Thumbnail Sketch © Guy Porfirio

Final Painting © Guy Porfirio

The Buddy System…

Never go into your studio alone. Always let someone know where you’re going to be, and stay close. So, just in case you don’t come out, we’ll know where to look. Dangerous business. You’d think someone would have mentioned that little tidbit back at the Academy. “Listen up guys, this is powerful stuff we’re learning here, nothing to play around with. We haven’t lost anyone in 35 years, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

If you spend enough time forcing yourself to see a certain way, you're going to end up seeing a certain way. Take it from me. I seem to have misplaced the off button. “Oh, what a beautiful sunset… Not bad... but I would have moved that mountain peak over to the left just a bit and then the clouds on the right are a little busy. Yeah, I would lose those. Now the focus becomes the treetops in the foreground and how they catch the orange light just the right way directing your eye back up toward the glow coming off the mountains. Ta-Da! Next.

I could be at a gathering with friends, completely caught up in the conversation and before I know it, I'm not hearing a thing. I’m completely focused on thier facial expressions and body posturing. It’s fascinating. “Hmmm…” I ponder.  “Look at how even in the darkest shadow area under the jaw there is still enough detail to define the form. Make a note of that.” Or “Look how that subtle dip in the corner of the mouth changes the expression from amusement to sincerity.” Luckily, these are good friends and they make plenty of allowances for me cuz I’m one of those artist types. 

The payoff? Ideas! Pure gold in my world, and they come fast and furious. Being observant, knowing yourself and how you feel about things is the key. It’s the artist’s vocabulary.

"The Day I Could Fly"

 Endsheet thumbnail sketch

And  the final painting

Here goes...

As an artist, it is my duty to over think things, and then do my best to blow them all way out of proportion. This skill is particularly useful around 11 PM the night before all final artwork is due, although it also works well at the dentist’s office. Has this tooth been giving you any problems? I don’t know… should it be giving me problems?? Maybe it has, only I’ve been too busy to notice. Does caffeine have anything to do with masking the body’s natural pain mechanisms? Is this going to cost a lot? Can I leave now? You get the point.

Back in art school I once heard a classmate say that the artist’s job was to find beauty in nature, re-arrange it, and then simplify it. Pretty lofty stuff. I still believe in that simplifying thing though, and do my best to live up to it. But I’ll tell you. Every now and then one gets away from me, painting that is. And before I know it, I’ve blazed right past the simplifying part and straight on through to the over-baked, complicated part. Over thinking rears it’s ugly head again. Tragic.

Enter, the thumbnail sketch: the artist’s best friend. The great, cut-to-the chase, right-to-the-point, flawlessly executed, enough said, equalizer. Embedded in this little monochromatic masterpiece is an idea that came straight from The Gut. (Listen to your gut, it knows what it’s talking about!) Right from the gut, I say. Free of all the second-guessing, which can only turn a good idea into just pretty picture without a point. That’s so sad. (That’s where they get wallpaper, you know.) A quick thumbnail sketch makes it easy to be bold and daring. And it doesn’t cost much, either. It only took me about 30 seconds to get this idea down, and truth be told, I was already on to the next one before this one was finished, and then the next, and the next. And the next, until… I just can’t leave this one alone. Eureka!

I love thumbnail sketches almost as much as I love painting, sometimes more. They’re what my paintings aspire to be when they grow up… a worthy goal.

       Here's one of my favorite thumbnail sketches from a book I illustrated titled Papa's Gift.

  

And then the final painting.