Cross-Pollination

Why Non-Art Related Interests are Important

Think back to Biology 101… Remember learning about cross-pollination? If it’s been awhile, cross-pollination is where one plant is pollinated by a completely different plant. It allows for greater genetic variability and the development of new varieties. I’m seriously simplifying the process, but you get the drift: sameness isn’t always desirable and sometimes you need to bring something new into the mix.

And what’s true for plants is even more true for artists.

You can draw until your arm falls off, but without something new coming into the mix, some cross-pollination, your art will suffer. It’s like training for a marathon: you don’t just run, you also do strength-training and cardio. You might run a couple days a week, but you’ll also lift weights, swim and eat lots of pasta in the training process. You don’t cross the finish line without shaking things up. It’s good to be focused, but tunnel vision benefits no one.

For me as an illustrator, cross-pollination has meant pursuing other interests, even the ones that don’t seem “useful.” In the United States, there seems to be a horror of leisure. Read a book? Listen to an album? Sit and look at a tree? Never! Ironically, though, we’re a society where the average adult spends over four hours of each day looking at their phone. And I get it. When you’ve had The Day from Hades and you’re utterly wrung out, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram is a relief. But for whatever reason, there seems to be an allergic response when people suggest allocating the same amount of time towards sitting outside with a lemonade, staring at the clouds.

So how have I cross-pollinated and where have I seen the fruits of that? Sorry, couldn’t resist the pun…

Vintage Reenacting

About ten years back, I fell into attending vintage themed events. If you’re familiar with the Jazz Age Lawn Party or the Roaring Twenties Lawn Party in Massachusetts, you get the picture. I also volunteered at a local living history museum, role-playing a World War II air raid warden (above), a 1940’s shop girl and a suffragette. I’ve always been a bit of a history nerd and researching the styles and cultures of times past was right up my alley. I sewed historical reproduction garments and learned how to do pin curls, draw a faux hose seam up the back of my leg and to swing dance in heels. And I found this vintage interest began popping up in my illustration work. I’d often draw characters wearing the clothes of the time period I was role-playing. When it came time to illustrate the Anne of Green Gables series I worked on with Tundra, I was raring to immerse myself in the early 20th century. My interest in historical costuming made so much of the research work easier. It was a joy to bring that hobby into the art I was creating.

A bunch of time travelers The Portsmouth Tweed Ride

Reading

I know in the children’s literature community there’s many who voraciously consume kidlit. That’s great! It’s crucial to understand the market you’re working in. But I think there’s a danger in not branching out and reading other genres.

Reading broadens horizons and encourages self-examination. The Last Place on Earth made me think deeply about heroism and foolhardiness, strength and weakness. The Weaker Vessel was mind-boggling in its depth, examining the lives of women during the 16th century. And Paddy’s Lament sent me down a rabbit hole of research, inspiring an idea that I hope will become a book of my own someday. But sometimes reading is just fun. Every once in awhile, I circle back to Agatha Christie, P.G. Wodehouse and Barbara Pym because they offer me a literary security blanket in a world seemingly gone mad. And in the past year or two, I’ve begun to reread old favorites, like Under the Sun of Satan and have been surprised by new discoveries. And all of that reading has informed my illustration work, whether it’s drawings of Frodo or paintings of killer birds.

Illustration inspired by the Daphne du Maurier short story, The Birds.

Gardening

Right before the pandemic hit, I’d started watching Gardeners’ World. That had been precipitated by randomly queuing up this other Monty Don offering. I’d always thought of gardening as something unattainable. It required an exact sort of space and a dedicated amount of time. But Monty Don flipped the script for me and had me realizing that there’s as much value in a tub of potatoes grown on the stoop as there is in the highly manicured rose bed. So I began to experiment. I grew peas. I tried (and failed) with cabbages. But I began to relish the time I spent in the garden. I’d end the day covered in grime, sweaty and exhausted, but feeling absolutely energized. Watching a seed become a pumpkin is nothing short of magic.

Gardening also offers a lot of life lessons. You realize quickly that sometimes things fail, despite your best efforts. You learn how to pivot and make the best of a bad situation. And you learn that sometimes when you ignore a plant it does its best. Gardening has also taught me that whatever is making me crazy in the moment will be forgotten after a half hour of weeding and watering. Recharging my batteries with gardening influences my illustration work, offering me greater perspective and (slightly) less angst.

And…

Let’s not forget about simply sitting. Sometimes when the day feels long, I walk down to the river and just sit. I’ll dangle my feet and watch for the turtle to go swimming by. I’ll take note of how fast or slow the water moves. Often I convince myself that I don’t have time to do this. Why take 15 minutes to do nothing when I have hours and hours of work still to do? But when I learn to step away, even for a minute, I regain perspective and joy. And I can’t illustrate with either of those things (think: the law of diminishing returns).

So here’s to hobbies. And to leisure. And sometimes just sitting and staring at the clouds. I can promise, your illustration work will blossom if you make time for any of these things, even if it’s only the space of ten minutes.