So, Just What Is a Whimsy Stick?

Middle-aged white man in blue denim shirt is carving a whimsy stick. Before him on a table are other whimsies he has carved.

“To produce any of these fascinating pieces, the whittler needed only a piece of wood, his pocketknife and a sharpening stone. He, the tramp, would then use his pieces to give as a gift to a friend, barter for food, or exchange for money.” (Vandertie & Spielman, 1995)

 

There is a character in my novel Resolute Death, whom I usually refer to as the “ex-hobo now English professor and poet laureate,” who carves whimsy sticks. If you’re not up on your American Folk Art, you may not know what a whimsy stick is. And even if you are, it’s not an easy art form to find out about.

 

Dog chasing after a toy connected to the cord-end of a whimsy flirt stick.Typically, an information search on the phrase whimsy stick turns up a slew of advertising sites for something referred to as a Whimsy Stick Flirt Pole, a specialized toy for dogs: “Designed by a trainer, the Whimsy Stick was built to support structured instinct fulfillment through purposeful movement, not chaotic play.” [1] [2] Imagine one of those faux fishing poles for cats that have funky toys at the cord’s end to capture the kitty’s attention. The canine version is very like but designed for training.

 

In terms of art making, a whimsy stick is a type of folk art made by whittling, or carving, a found piece of wood into a narrow, stick-shaped object. It is typically classed as tramp art or hobo art.

 

 

The most typical whimsies are the ball-in-the-cage and chain. In the above image here, an in-process take on the creation of a whimsy stick, we see both. At the top is a small ball-in-the-cage. The chain, below that, is a series of interlocking links. [3]

In both cases, the shapes are carved into a single piece of wood; the ball is loose in its cage, the chain begins as a single section that is gradually carved out into its separate links. Other decorative elements such as spirals, small spheres, loops, and small open box-shapes can be added by the carver.

Lesser known designs are the fidget stick (below), a hand-sized creation with a concave surface on the one side that one rubs one’s thumb along as a way of calming one’s stress, and the neckerchief slide. The slide is used to secure the front ends of a red bandanna to keep the scarf in place.

Fidget stick style of whimsy stick.

The best known whittler of whimsy sticks is Adolph Vandertie (1911–2007). In the exhibition brochure for Good Road to Follow, the 2020-2021 installation at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, Vandertie describes where he learned the craft:

Ashwaubenon Museum permanent exhibit of Adolph Vandertie's collection of hobo and tramp art.

“The obsession I have toward the hobby of whittling and collecting hobo and tramp art began as a young boy when I made frequent trips to the hobo jungles where I listened, wide-eyed, to the stories told by the hoboes of the faraway places they had been and the many adventures they had experienced. . . .  It was in this environment that I experienced the eating of Mulligan stew and the whittling of what has become the trademark of the whittler: the ball-in-the-cage.” [4]

He went on to collect and whittle “a great many of these artifacts of whittlers’ art, estimated in excess of 2,000 pieces.” The Ashwaubenon Historical Museum in Green Bay, WI has a permanent display of his collection (see above).  In her 2009 aricle in JSOnline, the local newspaper for Milwaukee, WI, Mary Louise Schumacher spoke effusively of the artist:

“The volume of work and the sheer skill at finessing wood is overwhelming and a testament to Vandertie’s perseverance and vision.” [5]

Whimsy sticks have been described by some as tramp art though not all experts agree. Laura A. Addison, in her introduction to her edited work No Idle Hands, initially states that “Tramp art has often been a contested effort…characterized by V-shaped notching along the edges of thin pieces of wood that are then layered in such a way that the wood sheets become progressively smaller.” [6, pg. 12] A whimsy stick has no such layering and is restricted to working one piece of wood. The technical enchantment of it is just that: a single work of art is made from a single piece of wood, with no attachments. The whittling of it must be carefully designed and executed.

Tramp art chipped frame displays a small collection of elaborately carved whimsy sticks.This image here, a set of whimsy sticks “with their supple curves and abstract shapes” was carved by Vandertie.The frame is an example of chipped, layering tramp art. These particular whimsies are an example of the more elaborate and delicate carving possible by an experienced whittler.

Vandertie, along with Patrick Spielman, wrote what may be the definitive book on whimsy sticks: Hobo & Tramp Art Carving: An Authentic American Folk Tradition (1995). In contains  more images of whimsies than I have seen in any other book. They also include several how-to sections, though very basic.

Vandertie and Spielman’s book has how-to images, but they may be difficult for a beginning carver to work out in actual practice. I found some useful videos over on YouTube. It’s a slow art and the quality of the carving varies.

How-To Info

“Ball in a Box.” By Bob Young. Via Pinterest. [A collection of images of whimsy carvings via Pinterest website.]
https://www.pinterest.com/bobyoung41/ball-in-a-box/

“How to Carve a Ball in a Cage Out of Wood.” By rasmus_pf. Via Instructables website.
https://www.instructables.com/How-to-Carve-a-Ball-in-a-Cage-Out-of-Wood/

“How to Make Hobo Art – whimseys, chains, and balls-in-cages.” Via the Folk Artisans website.
https://www.folkartisans.com/sup/howtocrv.html This website also includes a number photos of whimsy sticks from the Vandertie and Spielman book posted by permission of the Sterling Press.

“Shop Talk with Tim” YouTube channel.

Tammy McGowan YouTube channel.

“Whittle Me This” YouTube channel.

“Whittling for Beginners YouTube channel has a multi-part series on whittling a chain and ball-in-cage: https://www.youtube.com/@WSCSSheboygan/search?query=whittling

resources

Books (on hobo & tramp Art as well as the hobo/tramp lifestyle)

Hobo & Tramp Art Carving: An Authentic American Folk Tradition. By Adolph Vandertie with Patrick Spielman. Sterling Publishing, NY (1995). ISBN: 0-8069-3185-X.

The Hobo Handbook: A Field Guide to Living by Your Own Rules. By Josh Mack. Adams Media (2011). ISBN: 978-1440512278.

The Hobo: The Sociology of the Homeless Man. By Nels Anderson. Trad Street Press (2026). ISBN 13: 9781025716923.

A Legacy in Tramp Art. By Clifford A. Wallach. Schiffer (2012). ISBN: 978-0764341069

No Idle Hands: The Myths & Meanings of Tramp Art. Edited by Laura M. Addison, Museum of New Mexico Press (2017). ISBN: 978-0-89013-622-5.

Vagabonds, Tramps, and Hobos: The Literature and Culture of U.S. Transiency, 1890-1940. By Owen Clayton. Cambridge University Press (2023. ISBN: ‎978-1009348034.

 

If you have a question or comment for me, drop me a line via my Contact page.

© J.A. Jablonski 2026. All rights reserved.

 

How to cite this post

Jablonski, J.A. (2026; Oct  24). So, Just What Is a Whimsy Stick? Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
https://jajablonski.com/2026/10/24/whimsy-stick/


IMAGE CREDITS

Adolph Vandertie carving a whimsy stick. From his (and Patrick Spielman’s) book. Citation in Resources section above.

Dog excitedly tracking a capture toy deployed at the end of a flirt toy. Photo from the Healthy Pet Austin website: https://healthypetaustin.com/blogs/news/using-a-flirt-pole-the-right-way-structure-safety-and-purposeful-play

Row of whimsy sticks in process. Adolph Vandertie, untitled, n.d.; wood; 17 3/4 x 16 1/4 x 8 in. John Michael Kohler Arts Center Collection, gift of Kohler Foundation Inc. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.

Diagram of a fidget stick. From the Vandertie and Spielman book.

Corner view of the permanent display of Vandertie’s collection at the Ashwaubenon Historical Museum (Green Bay, WI). Photo from the museum’s website: https://www.ashwaubenonmuseum.org/our-exhibits

Wood-framed collection of whimsy sticks, carved by Adolph Vandertie. See [5] below for source citation.

SOURCES | NOTES 

[1]  “Using a Flirt Pole the Right Way: Structure, Safety, and Purposeful Play.” (5 February, 2026).
https://healthypetaustin.com/blogs/news/using-a-flirt-pole-the-right-way-structure-safety-and-purposeful-play

[2]  The Whimsy Stick web site has a number of videos showing the flirt pole in action. https://whimsystick.com/

[3]  JMKAC 2021 online exhibition record page for “Good Road to Follow, March 1, 2020 – January 17, 2021.”
https://research.jmkac.org/exhibition/good-road-to-follow/

[4] The complete brochure can be accessed here: https://research.jmkac.org/wp-content/uploads/PDFs/HoboTrampArtBrochure.pdf  The Kohler Foundation has an information page on Adolph Vandertie here: https://www.kohlerfoundation.org/preservation/wisconsin-artists/adolph-vandertie/

[5] Schumacher, Mary Louise. (2009, 21 August). “Adolph Vandertie, Grand Duke of the Hobos.” JSOnline archives website. https://archive.jsonline.com/blogs/entertainment/53747732.html

 [6] Addison, Laura M, editor. (2017). No Idle Hands: The Myths & Meanings of Tramp Art. Museum of New Mexico Press, Santa Fe. 

ARTIST: Stephen Richards

Left: Black and white formal portrait of Stephen Richards. Right: Leporello art work titled The Book of Icarus

“I will always interpret a traditional myth of story
in my own way using contemporary references and context.”

Several years ago I came across the artwork of Stephen Richards on Instagram. What caught my eye was the vibrancy of his creative vision and the strength of his inkwork craftsmanship. Beyond that, I knew nothing and would just notice when he posted something.

In 2023, Richards posted about two works-in-progress: The Book of Icarus and The Seduction of Theseus, each a collage ink-and-wax-resist series of images based on the Greek myths.

During that time, I was writing Resolute Death, the first book of my Osley College mystery series. A key element in the setting is a small collection of ravens who inhabit the campus and figure occasionally as plot pointers and character touchstones. Ravens are the central motif in Richards’ Icarus. I bought a print from the work and hung it over my writing desk. Later, I asked him if I might use the image in the cover art for my novel and he most graciously agreed.

 

Left: view of wax resit and ink drawing of a raven flying from a copse of trees. Right: Front & back cover of book titled Resolute Death using the imagery of the left artwork.

 

I was intrigued by his imaginative world and, wanting to hear more about his creative way of thinking and the practical logistics of what he does, I asked if we might engage in this interview-style, public conversation.

 

Stephen Richards artist. White middle aged male with with hair and beard smiles.BIO

Stephen Richards, a leading landscape architect with over 30 years of award-winning international experience, is a London-based, Regional Partner and co-owner at the Gillespies architectural firm. [1] He studied at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, majoring in landscape architecture. Richards is also a professional artist who specializes in working with mixed media, using wax resist and ink in combination with pencil to create textures to describe his narratives. He is particularly drawn to collage works where he cuts up previously prepared wax resist sheets to create representations of tree form and figures. He has explored many themes in his work from narrative stories, figure drawing, and portraiture.

 

GREECE


JAJ: I had a friend who was a travel agent, her favorite place to go was Greece. Several times in posts, you mention a trip you’d taken to the Greek island of Hydra. Clearly it was a time of both joy and inspiration. What draws you to Greece? What or how does this particular place speak to you?

Coastal view of a traditional settlement on the island of Hydra, Greece.

“Traditional settlement on the island of Hydra“

SR: My love of Greece, and in particular the Greek islands, stems from the illustrated books my parents gave me as a child and, in particular, the work of the great American illustrators Alice and Martin Provensen. In their Golden Treasury of Myths and Legends and their interpretation of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey poems, they created beautiful depictions of the Greek countryside and Mediterranean Sea and filled them with depictions of petulant gods, lusty heroes and terrifying monsters. This world was exotic to me, so different from the genteel orchards and villages of my upbringing in Kent. Thus began a deeper fascination in this ancient world and other source material.

Black and white photo of the British Museum in London.Early trips to the British Museum with my mother to see the Greek marble, bronze and ceramic remains held there further inspired my curiosity about the place they originated. I have since visited Greece on numerous occasions. For me, there is a spirit in the landscape, a tangible connection to this ancient society and their love of storytelling. I like to think some of the remoter islands haven’t changed much since their civilization and I was gazing on the same view as these ancient people would have done. I have since found out the landscape would have had far more tree cover than it does now. Perhaps I over romanticised my experience each time I visited, but that for me is an important part of the enjoyment and engagement. These places certainly spoke to me. Coming across fragments of temple remains and sculpture on walks across the islands were always thrilling and helped me conjure up the society and life of these people and their beliefs and pleasures.

The island of Hydra is particularly special place for me; I have stayed in a beautiful house there for a few years. It was a converted rope maker’s home with a lovely sequence of gardens and terraces that came into their own at different times of the day. The island itself is car free. You are woken each morning by the sound of donkeys delivering parcels and cockerels crowing across the valley. Its fame and notoriety stemmed from the 1960’s when is was a haven for musicians and travelers looking for unspoilt peace and tranquility. It now gets its fair share of tourist boats but you can still escape the crowds in the herb-filled pine forests.

Perhaps the most important thing Hydra has given me is a renewed interest in drawing. Each time I have been, I have taken ample supplies of drawing material and sketchbooks and filled my days, observing and drawing the place. My first concertina book was done there depicting the pine trees. Not long after I posted pictures of it, it was bought by a collector in Paris and I then knew I might be onto something both enjoyable and viable.If

MYTHOLOGY & MYTHMAKING

JAJ: In your artist’s statement, you note that “mythology features heavily in your life stemming from an early age.” [2]  Were there particular stories that you enjoyed (or feared?). And adding to that, having created visual stories of certain myths, to what extent might you alter a traditional version or interpretation, do your own mythmaking as it were?

Cover of 1959 edition of The Golden Treasury of Myths and Legends by Alice and Martin Provensen shows stylized, colorful illustration of mythological figures in battle.SR: I realised quite young that I liked to be scared by the stories I read. It wasn’t so much an interest in destruction, conflict or war, it was more to do with the thrill of meeting mythical beasts in all their fantastical guises. I was drawn to these monsters and dark forces and the threats they posed to the order of things. I was equally drawn to those characters that faced up to them whether they were children my own age, who I could relate to, or dashing heroes I could look up to. Depictions were key to me especially in illustrated books and eventually film. But the written word always fired my imagination to create my own images in my mind.

My grandparents on my father’s side grew up in the west of England on the Welsh boarders where myths and storytelling abound, shaped by the extraordinary ancient and rugged landscapes there. My grandparents liked nothing better than to spook me with tales of a huge black dog that would roam the land at night bringing with it tragic misfortune, and wicked landowners with mysterious cellars in their mansions. I learnt to see these stories imprinted in the rocks and trees around their home, and in the wider landscape, the remoteness of the mist covered mountains, lonely buildings and the rapid streams, waterfalls and rivers.

I was very escapist as a child and would often lose myself in fantasy in these places, reading avidly and drawing maps and depictions of the creatures and people I had read about. I renamed all the streets and spaces in my home village where I was brought up so I could imagine a kingdom there and the mythology surrounding it. I particularly liked, and still do like, the darker side of fairy stories where wicked deeds are met by horrific comeuppances. It fed into my imagination that was on overdrive at the time.

As I have grown older and revisited these stories, I have quite naturally sought a more mature perspective, based on an increased understanding of the human condition. I am interested in how this has shaped these tales, how the beast is often a representation of powerful human emotions be they revenge, sexual desire, bereavement, hatred, hope and pure evil. The myths survive because they work at the level of a simple story or a more complex interplay. That is why I believe reinterpretation of myths is a quite legitimate exercise. Stories evolve as does the context in which they are set.

This drove me to reconsider the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur as a dance. I used flamenco as a vehicle in which to introduce the two protagonists, the beast perversely taking on the role of the matador, circling and confusing the young hero with his twists and turns, each time pulling him closer towards a seduction.

 

Wax resist and ink depiction of 3 pairs of Theseus and the Minotaur dancing together flamenco style.

 

I will always interpret a traditional myth of story in my own way using contemporary references and context. The myth endures these changes because at its heart is a universal story of us, our weaknesses, strengths, hot-headedness and bravery.

My fascination with mythology fed into my early professional work as a landscape architect and helped me consider the deeper meaning behind the dense forests I designed, the lit glades, dark pools of water and gardens that I delivered. We project many meanings upon the landscapes around us, stemming from the stories we were told and inherited from our ancestors, and perhaps a deeper connection to place from prehistory when there was a great degree affinity with the natural world. In Europe there is a great tradition for fearing the forest as a place where good folk don’t belong, populated by beasts and cutthroats. The forest as setting for story telling holds a great deal of interest to me. y

 

FORMAT AND TECHNIQUE


Small figure of Theseus approaching the Minotaur's maze.JAJ
: In several of your Instagram images that are or have the flavor of landscape architecture, you’ve use the hashtag “PencilOnPaper” (or in an early reference, “#RotringPen”). In a 2024 LinkedIn post you commented “Representation by hand has always held a deep fascination for me since my early university days.” [3] Yet you work in a profession where the use of software such as AutoCAD LT is the norm. Has computer drafting impacted or changed your style or approach to hand-drawing?


S.R:
I first entered the profession of landscape architecture because it appealed to my interests in both geography and drawing. As a student and young professional, drawing was the primary means of communicating an idea or mood. I was an avid researcher into the drawn outputs of other professionals and this helped me with my own style of depiction. My professional drawings were atmospheric, but primarily a means to describe a space or journey through a designed landscape. They were not fanciful or fantastical.

As my career developed, I spent less time drawing and the world of digital design took over my profession. I avoided using the software as my position didn’t demand it. It was during Covid that I rediscovered my love of drawing for drawings sake. My lockdown was in the Suffolk countryside and I was lucky because I could roam around without fear of encountering others. I started with depicting the trees around my home simply because I loved their forms, but also because of their age, steadfastness and dignity in a very troubled period of uncertainty and fear. I began to experiment more and use Instagram to post my drawings. The people I encountered there were immensely helpful in shaping my direction and added to the encouragement and support I received from home

I am very aware of digital impressions used in my professional sphere and I understand the speed with which complex spaces can be rendered quickly and effectively. I think there still is a place for drawing at the early stages of a project as it also looks more spontaneous, immediate and accessible and I certainly encourage my staff to adopt this approach.

Top view of a leporello book art work.JAJ: While not the case for all of your work, several have employed a leporello (aka, concertina) format. How did you discover this approach? What is it about this format that works for or calls to you?

S.R: I was in my favourite art suppliers looking for pencils, ink and sketchbooks for my first trip to Hydra. I came across this folded book and it really took my fancy. I could immediately think of a long connected drawing. I bought a few and it proved really worthwhile, opening numerous possibilities for scroll drawings. I started with a study of pine trees, then a long fanciful illustration of the island itself. The scroll painting is a traditional technique in China and Japan for depicting an unfolding story on one long sheet of paper.

The French collector who bought the first one off me, called it a Leporello which comes from a character in Mozart’s Don Giovanni. He is on stage reading out all the names of his female encounters from a long folding sheet. I have since used them for other drawings where I like to continuation of a narrative linked by recurring motifs.

Hand holding a stack of cut-out figures.JAJ: Your collage work has an intense tactile quality to it. One of your IG posts shows you holding a handful of collage pieces, figures for your Minotaur work. Why and/or how does texture and shape work in your mind as you create?

S.R: I originally experimented with wax resist technique to depict sgraffito patterns in some ceramics I was drawing. I really liked the textures as the ink separated over the candle wax. I made up a number of f-sheets of varying weights of was and ink from pale grey to nearly black. As I studied them I saw how some of the textures resembled mottled skin and started to experiment using them in a collage technique. I’d draw the figure in pencil, trace and transfer sections onto the waxed paper and build up the collage. Varying the weight of the ink allowed me to represent shadow and form giving them a 3D effect. I also noticed how well the waxed paper resembled bark and this led onto a series of tree drawings. I still use wax but now mixed it with other mediums to create richly patinated effects.

 

COLOR

JAJ: Nearly all of the artwork, your own and others, displayed on your Instagram account are colored in shades of black, gray, and white. Often, though, your IG stories and posts about the art you view at various galleries and art shows or in books you’ve discovered, are filled with color. I’m not quite sure what I am asking here! Monochrome vs multicolored or multichromatic. What are you seeing/feeling/hearing in color or its lack? How does it speak to you?

S.R: I hugely enjoy seeing colour in other artists’ work. My father used bold colour in his commercial art a lot during the sixties as it was so much part of that scene and I grew up with his works and my parents colour sense in furnishings and fabric. Colour evokes intense pleasures and moods and I never look at a Matisse painting without feeling uplifted. However I genuinely struggle with colour in my own work. It takes great skill to understand colour associations and their impact. I would much rather focus on form, outline and texture. Currently I don’t see the need to experiment with colour but that could change as I evolve my practice.

TREES


Hand-drawn tree in black ink on a sketchbook page.JAJ: Obviously, for a landscape architect, trees play an important role. But as an artist, trees and branches are often present in your non-portrait drawing. I am curious as to how trees function not only as objects of artistic study, but in the motivating vision or creative urge that underlies and inspires your work.

S.R: Trees feature greatly in my work. I am constantly struck by their peaceful, benign and immense scale, their musculature, signs of age, new life, decay and presence. I draw them in a similar way that I approach figure drawing – seeing them a living entity full of character with their flaws and personality. It’s important to me to try and express all those traits in a drawing. A challenge but one I hugely enjoy attempting.

I am also fascinated by depicting forests in my narrative works. Here I draw from the wealth of story telling from Northern Europe where the forest is seen as a dark place beyond the city walls, dense and tangled, a threat to order and stability, a haven for witches, beasts and those who would like to remain hidden. Now we understand them as hugely important ecosystems where a large variety of species are interconnected and sustained.

For me they are the perfect settings for the journeys and encounters I like to draw. The stems can conceal and reveal and I especially like them as a continuum, a constant motif especially in my leporello series. They help bind a story. I also enjoy the edges of woods and forests, how open space meets a dense wall of trees, a point departure, a conscious choice where you either stumble forward or carve your way in. Either way, you are entering a foreboding place and that’s a perfect foil for a drama to emerge.

INSPIRATION FROM OTHERS

JAJ: In your artist statement, you mention the creative support and inspiration of your parents. Who else has inspired you as an artist?

Paolo Uccello’s

Paolo Uccello’s “The Hunt in the Forest”

SR: I am a real magpie when it comes to source material and have always enjoyed encountering imagery that opens my mind to potential new ideas. [4]

Childhood books: The work of Alice and Martin Provensen for their extraordinary Greek world; Pauline Baynes for the “Wood Between the Worlds,” in C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew; Edward Ardizzone for Stig of the Dump and his wonderful depiction of an outsider in nature

Paintings: Paolo Uccello’s “The Hunt in the Forest” for the extraordinary depth of field; Keith Vaughan’s abstract landscapes; Graham Sutherland’s strange hedgerows; and Michael Aryton’s Minotaur and Icarus series in paintings, etchings and bronze. 

Dancers: Sylvie Guillem, Alvin Ailey, Irek Mukhamedov, and Antonio Gades.

Films: Forbidden Planet, Jason and the Argonauts, and Cabaret. 

THE BOOK OF ICARUS

 

Leporello-style of The Book of Icarus displays the story horizontally.


JAJ: There is something about that one image from your leporello work, I refer to it as “Raven Icarus,” that goes beyond storytelling for me. I mentioned to you at one point that, as I have synesthesia, I can feel this piece in my sternum when I look at it and “hear light” behind me. You mentioned to me that when creating it, you had a “strong sense of an agitated bird flying out from the safety of the forest to confront life.”

I asked about your mythmaking earlier. Could you talk about the narrative inspiration behind your telling of the Icarus myth.

SR: This work evolved over a period of a few months working mostly at the weekends and it slowly coming together within a large leporello. It started with me drawing birds in pencil and ink as a subject matter to test techniques and then moving onto feathers. I was using ink and wax resist and the thought occurred to me that feathers and wax was the basis of the Icarus tale and it would be a great medium to use. I wanted to make my own version set in a forest filled with birds.

The image you refer to is that exciting moment when a bird breaks cover and flies fast out of tree, nervous, agitated and usually calling loudly as it heads for another sheltered space. The birds’ home is the forest and there is a harmony and balance where they play out their lives. Enter Icarus, lost, depressed and alone. He sees the birds and is fascinated by their freedom and lightness. He decides there and then to become one and begins to collect their fallen feathers. Initially nervous of him, the birds soon help, bringing him feathers from throughout the forest. Icarus burns candles to collect wax with which he positions the feathers on his arms and back.

Intoxicated by the forest and its smells and light, he starts to dance and in his mind becomes a bird. This irritates the birds who don’t want to share their gift and flock to him from the depths of the forest and tear him apart. Collecting back the blood smeared feathers. So in this tale there is no direct reference to the Greek myth but still a tale of arrogance and disrupting the balance of nature with dire consequences   

FUTURE WORK

JAJ: Do you have any plans any new narrative works?


Mixed media drawing of the ship of Theseus approaching a rise of icebergs.

SR: Right now I am working on a new telling of the Minotaur myth set in the snowy north. I like forests in snow as a drawing theme and think the idea of a frozen labyrinth has potential. As we head into winter here the theme becomes richer and more appropriate to the landscapes around my home. I like Theseus sailing through the snowy wastes setting foot on a black island. As with all my work, there’s a sense of disruption to the natural order of things when man arrives on the scene.

This will be the case here too. As he gets closer to the island, the arctic wildlife become increasing agitated and noisy. I like this Theseus wrapped in furs and not the classic Greek nude. The Minotaur, too, is hairy and lives in a cave surrounded by prehistoric rock paintings. I do not know yet the full direction of this work and the outcome and that’s interesting for me as it allows me to flip and turn as I produce each panel.

 

 

Stephen Richards, a tall, white middle-aged man wearing a navy button-down shirt and off-white trousers, stands next to his artwork titled

Stephen Richards can be found online at Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/stephenrichards_drawing/

 

 

If you have a question or comment for me, drop me a line via my Contact page.

© J.A. Jablonski 2026. All rights reserved.

 

How to cite this post

Jablonski, J.A. (2026; Oct 12). Interview: Stephen Richards. Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
https://jajablonski.com/2026/10/12/artist-stephen-richards/


IMAGE CREDITS

All black and white images (with the exception of the photo of the British Museum), the color self portrait, and the photo of Richards in the Britten Pears Arts gallery (Suffolk, UK) were provided by the artist and used with his permission.

  • Main blog page image. Left: self-portrait at home. Right: home gallery display of works.
  • Post header portrait of Stephen Richards by Stuart Alexander Carruthers.
  • Double image. Left: a section of a page from The Book of Icarus. Right: my book Resolute Death employing the same page in its cover art design.
  • Theseus and the Minotaur dancing.
  • Pencil/ink drawing of Theseus approaching the Minotaur’s maze.
  • Leporello art work example.
  • Richards’ hand holding the cut-out collage pieces for eventual Theseus and the Minotaur work.
  • Small sketchbook drawing of bare tree trunk.
  • Leporello display of The Book of Icarus.
  • Mixed media drawing of Theseus’ ship on the icy sea.
  • Richards stands alongside his recent work “Conclave” in the Britten Pears Arts gallery.

Other:

  • “Traditional settlement on the island of Hydra.” Photo by Violeta Meleti as part of Wiki Loves Monuments 2020.
  • British Museum. Photo by Igor Sporynin via Unsplash.
  • Book cover: The Golden Treasure of Myths and Legends by Alice and Martin Provensen via the Internet Archive.
  • Paolo Uccello’s “The Hunt in the Forest” (from Wikipedia).

SOURCES | NOTES 

Quotation by Richards on the main page of my blog is from an essay he wrote for The Art Workers’ Guild: “Nature in a Time of Anxiety.” https://www.artworkersguild.org/blog/nature-in-a-time-of-anxiety-stephen-richards/, n.d.

[1] Gillespies. “Stephen Richards, Partner.” Accessed August 17, 2026. https://www.gillespies.co.uk/people/stephen-richards

[2] Artist statement: Stephen Richards, email message to author, August 7, 2026.

[3] Richards, Stephen. LinkedIn post, accessed June 4, 2026. https://www.linkedin.com/posts/stephen-richards-b8819412_drawing-sketchbook-activity-7098282165334863873-KWF-

[4] More on the creative inspiration artists that Richards mentions can be found here. The detail and quality of the information in these Wikipedia articles varies. Some, but not all, include links to collections that hold the artists’ work(s), exhibition catalogs, and external links to research articles and/or websites.

Writers

Paintings

 Dancers

Films

Gray Areas and Content Warnings

Close-up of the face from “The Green Masque” by Oswald Birley (1922) superimposed over a swirling blue background. There was no AI used in creating this slide.

 

“. . . the gray area between “good” and “bad” and include [s]situations we wouldn’t want to experience in real life
— and just like any story, they’re not for everyone.”

~ Jami Gold

 

 

I’ve been crafting a content warning statement that addresses one of my series’ ongoing themes: the slow healing of trauma. Whether or not to include a warning was something I had to consider.

Around the early 2000s, the use of content warnings (also called trigger warnings) become prevalent in education. Framed as trauma-informed pedagogy, the notion is that a person who has experienced trauma can be impacted by the content of a given environment. The concept is often seen in writing now with the author needing to decide how extensively they will want to warn their readers, if at all. A key issue is how much a writer “owes” the people who read their books.

I’ve looked at statements written by other authors and one, Jami Gold, an author of paranormal romance, focuses specifically on the reader experience She notes that in addition to “explor[ing] the gray area between ‘good’ and ‘bad’” she will “include situations we wouldn’t want to experience in real life,” sensibly concluding that “and just like any story, they’re not for everyone.” [1]

Jami Gold’s commentary focuses more on the reader experience. She adds that “While some readers appreciate a heads up of content that might be uncomfortable for them, many readers want to experience a story without any hints of what’s to come.” [2]

Elizabeth A. Cartwright (Liz), an editor, graphic designer, and author takes the discussion a bit further in her 2024 thoughtful and useful essay about content warnings. She strikes a balance which I like. In her paragraph with the heading “Do I need to use content warnings?” she threads the careful needle of coddling or censorship. “Others,” she says, “will go as far as to say content warnings encourage censorship and hamper learning, by allowing people to shy away from content that would be otherwise valuable to consume.” [3]

There’s some historical sociology going one here, I warrant, of the variety of people who grew up under a tough love regime or were simply ignored. A kind of ‘boomer mentality’ I suspect, where the idea is “well I had it rough and survived, so you can/should too.” Fast forward to the helicopter parenting era where it seems every emotion and experience is to be protected and shielded.

Having been at the receiving end of sexual assault, stalking, and harassment, I have reflected on what sort of warnings I myself would want. In theory, I am the perfect audience for warnings. For me, and this is strictly personal (I would not presume my experience and decision applies to anyone but myself), I would prefer not to have them on page (on an author’s website, if under its own heading, would be okay). But my situation is perhaps unusual. Besides working with a therapist, which let me get a grip on things, I have two degrees in reading and critiquing literature and two more in analyzing and classifying works in the humanities and social sciences. Therapy and education, and later several decades as an information professional specializing in indexing, qualitative concept analysis, and information finding have given me a kind of objectivity in terms of reading texts.

Objectivity as in terms of distance, not approval. And that’s with regard to text only. I am extremely visual with an imagination that can go wild, so I avoid the horror and thriller genres both on screen and on page. I don’t need to provide fodder for nightmares.

As my current writings are murder mysteries, I have given considerable thought as to how extensively my readers should be forewarned. I don’t think it is my responsibility to protect people as no one is forcing them to read my books. I do appreciate, though, that I am writing outside the so-called cozy or sentimental approach, not thrillers precisely, but stories that have intense, graphic moments. And I respect my readers and the times, which are so difficult now, and so hurtful.

What I am doing, and quite intentionally, is exploring how a small group of people diverse in terms of their personalities, genders, sexualities, expertise, personal histories, and ethnicities find themselves gradually creating a chosen family over time. Their individual stories contain difficulties and traumas that some readers may find difficult.

 

If you have a question or comment for me, drop me a line via my Contact page. You can see a wider view of my creative world on my Instagram page.

 

© J.A. Jablonski 2025. All rights reserved.

 

 

How to cite this post

Jablonski, J.A. (2025, Sept 16). Gray Areas and Content Warnings. Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
https://jajablonski.com/2025/09/16/content-warnings/

SOURCES

[1, 2] From Gold’s website page on Content Guidance: https://jamigold.com/for-readers/guidance/

[3] Cartwright’s blog post can be found here: https://www.ec-editorial.com/post/content-warnings


IMAGE ID & CREDITS

Header image is a close-up of the female face from “The Green Masque” by Oswald Birley (1922) superimposed over a swirling blue background. There was no AI used in creating this slide. Some years ago I used the old PICAS image editor to “posterize” the face, then recently changed its hues and fading via the SnagIt Editor app.

Photo Credit: The blue background by Pawel Czerwinski via Unsplash.

 

Dreading Time in Fiction

Left: swirling red sky with sun or moon masked by clouds. Right: Thoughtful woman with hand face ponders

“I find myself skimming where before I slowed and marinated in it all.”

 

Most of my creative mutuals know how deeply I regard American author, Ursula K. Le Guin. I’ve read much of her work, though I prefer her later fiction, poetry, and non-fiction essays. She is one of our modern masters in the ways of imagining, creating, and storytelling. Her writing is muscular and rich. Her storytelling is focused, her world building expansive. There is deep intent to what she does, and a deep commitment to the craft of it. [1]

Craft and narrative intent and impact are forefront for me as I write these days. The necessary matter of time plays into both concerns. Time in terms of the writing of stories but time, too, in terms of the capability and interest of the people at the receiving end of a story-making artist’s creations.

Social Media’s Impact

Black and white photo of VHS videos on store shelvesIn a recent Bluesky thread, Ann Leckie, author of the Hugo award-winning Ancillary Justice, commented on the shift in “straightforward narration/exposition” noting that “young readers aren’t used to it.” [2, 3] It’s the impact of social media there to my mind and the generational shift in the content and approach found now in high school and college literary education. Younger educators and their younger readers haven’t learned how to read literature where a story is told via longer narration and description. I saw this already some years back when, as an assistant bookstore manager and VHS was the format for the day, I was regularly asked by students “where the videos for all the books were.” It goes beyond the Which is better, book or movie? trope. The movie is the book for many.

Add to this the more recent “movies should only be 90 minutes long” vibe on social media. That inability for the viewing or reading mind to purely be with something. Instead there is a need for action and for someone or something to tell me how to feel, how to think, how I should be impacted by the experience. [4]

SHIFTS IN AUTHORIAL INTENT

Cover of Ancillary Justice shows small spaceships hovering over and beside a large space tankerAfter reading Leckie’s thread, I picked up Ancillary Justice. I’ll be reading her entire Imperial Radch trilogy this winter as I turn to my SF project, looking to study her approach to world building (as well as reviewing Le Guin, Becky Chambers, H.G. Parry, Ada Palmer, and N.K. Jemisin for the same reason). Leckie’s narration, blended with her precise style of exposition, is more heavily detailed and drawn out than I remember from my first reading some eight years ago. Then, almost immediately absorbed by the story, Leckie’s method was less visible to me. This time, though, it is visible, and I find myself resisting. They’re intriguing, the details, but also a bit much; not too rich, simply much. I find myself skimming where before I slowed and marinated in it all. And I fret for this, that I have become somehow altered by social media as well.

Of course I turn my eyes to my own writing and question the how of my doings there. When, or more simply am I taking too long to tell the tale? And should that be my concern? Mindful of Leckie’s observations, how much do I owe a reader by way of time?

OLD TIMEY EDGE CUTTING

I recall a recent conversation with a one-time professorial colleague. He and I were on the forefront of our then department’s creation of online education programs. The software was still in the making then—no Zoom, no Teams, no digital classroom management systems. As part of that nascent educational advance I worked with colleagues from the Carnegie Mellon software development team, with the videographers, and with our own faculty to develop best practices. My lectures and group discussions were recorded live in my classrooms; foundational content presentations in my office. A single class time typically ran 1.5 to 2 hours. That was the norm, for us the instructors and for our students. Were I teaching now, I cannot imagine creating a video clip longer than 5 minutes, 10 at most. And I cannot but wonder how I could now convey the complexity and intellectual depth of my 2 subject areas (information organization and literary analysis and criticism) in so brief a time frame.

There is that need for speed in the reader or viewer now and, unfortunately to my mind, the need to see the information or content but not to be faced with (or forced to?) the deeper engagement that pushes the development of specific applied intellectual skills or critical thinking abilities.

Left: human hand with drippings of paint-colored paints. Center: people dancing on a stage illuminated in shades of blue. Right: Wide paint brushes with several different colors of paint on them

 

I find myself in envy of visual artists; the look-at-arts of painting, drawing, print making, textile design, photography, dance, etc. Their work hits, has an immediate or near-immediate impact. The work of a word-artist is no less risky but the impact can be—how to say this?—refused or denied because it requires a different kind of engagement; one demanding time.

ENDPOINT NEW POINT

I have no summary here, no grand solution to offer. It embarrasses me to admit I am relieved I am no longer an active academic; I no longer know how I would teach my areas of expertise given the technology of the current higher education environment.

As a writer, though, I do have and will take power. I will look to my mentor, Le Guin. I will heed her counsel to take the time, to go deep, to shape and construct sentence and story. As a lifelong writing instructor and author of professional, academic, and technical publications, I know what does and does not work in the practical sense. As a person now writing in the realms of imagination, I must needs summon the courage to disregard the current existential dread about narrative style and its conception in the marketplace. I am author not vendor and my readers are that, readers, not consumers. I respect what I am and am doing, and I respect them too.

 

_____________________________

AUTHOR BIO

J.A. Jablonski has been a university professor and researcher, academic and special librarian, information technology consultant, writing instructor, technical writer, book and database indexer as well as a graphic designer, award-winning display window and exhibits designer, fictional letter writer, live-action role playing actor and theater designer, sewist, and utterly amateur gardener, occasional poet. Jude’s current incarnation is fiction writer; they write in three different genres (mystery, speculative SF, and magical realism) while working to keep one foot in the academic scene by researching material culture in utopian fiction.

Jude’s current projects include a character-driven, ensemble cast academic mystery series set on a small college campus located in the Driftless Region of Wisconsin; an SF novel about competing factions of socio-anthropologists; a collection of stories, poems, and illustrations on the nature of the Muse; and a magical realism tale about a synesthesic young person who meets a one-eyed peer with unusual abilities.

If you have a question or comment for me, drop me a line via my Contact page. You can see a wider view of my creative world on my Instagram page.

 

© J.A. Jablonski 2024. All rights reserved.

How to cite this post

Jablonski, J.A. (2024, Jan 16). Dreading Time in Fiction Writing. Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
https://jajablonski.com/2024/01/17/dreading-time/

IMAGE CREDITS

Header image

    • “A picture of a sunset with clouds in the sky.” Photo by Serhii Tyaglovsky via Unsplash
    • “Woman with head resting on hand.” Photo by Niklas Hamann via Unsplash

“Video Store | Astoria, Oregon.” Photo by Sean Benesh via Unsplash.

Cover of Ann Leckie’s book, Ancillary Justice. From Leckie’s website page.

Triptych image

NOTES

    [1] The Marginalian is a website created and curated by Maria Popova, a modern person of letters. Popova holds Le Guin in considerable regard and often writes about her. This link connects to all the entries on Popova’s site about Le Guin.

    Also of interest may be John Plotz’s lengthy and wide ranging 2015 conversation with Le Guin. Citation: Plotz, John. (15 June, 2015). “The Story’s Where I Go: An Interview with Ursula K. Le Guin.” Public Books  (website). Le Guin’s website is here.

    [2] Ancillary Justice is Book 1 of Leckie’s Imperial Radch trilogy. Books 2 and 3 are titled Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. Leckie’s website is here.

    [3] Bluesky is not yet (but soon will be) a public platform. If you are on it, Leckie’s comments can be found in this thread begun by author C.L. Polk. Meanwhile, here is the text of the 3 posts I referenced.
    (Note: IMO = ‘in my opinion’)

    “I feel like, when you do something a reader might trip over, it helps to tell them up front that this is going to happen. So, right up front, “Here is some EXPOSITION I am going to do this from time to time” and then it becomes a part of the pattern the reader expects. IMO.”

    “Some of the problem (also my IMO) is that straightforward narration/exposition has been out of style for long enough that younger readers aren’t used to it. Also long enough that it’s maybe not in our ears enough that we can just naturally do it so it works.”

    “My take is usually…to try to let readers know from the start what I’m going to be doing (more or less, obviously) and then they’ll follow me or not. Maybe start a new trend!”

    [4] Granted, this complaint is usually made in response to the superhero franchises, blockbuster shoot-em-ups or space operas, and their oft-intended male adolescent audience. The issue, I think, is that these types of movies and their redundant remakes dominate the market. There are movies for people who like to time-soak in character, story, and place, but those films are less frequently made.

     

     

    ARTIST | Kenneth Patrick Schweiger

    Left: paintbrushes in tin can; center: artist schweiger at work on painting; right: self portrait of Schweiger

    “We understand in this painting what is round, flat, or soft.

    We get a tactile sense of the textures, how they feel, by studying the painting.“

    Earlier this Fall while touring the Minneapolis Institute of Art I came upon Kenneth Schweiger painting a copy of Henri Lehmann’s Portrait of Clémentine (Mrs. Alphonse) Karr, 1845. I’ve seen people doing this in other art museums but in this case was struck by the quality of Schweiger’s work and his ease in talking about it. I wanted to hear more about his creative way of thinking and the practical logistics of what he does so I asked him if we might continue our conversation in an interview here.

     

    Kenneth Patrick Schweiger. White male with beard wearing glasses & baseball cap

    BIO

    Kenneth Patrick Schweiger is a Fine Artist in St. Paul, MN (USA). He also serves as an Instructor at The Atelier Studio Program of Fine Art in nearby Minneapolis. Schweiger attended DePaul University in Chicago, IL. After graduation, he lived in Tokyo, pursuing his interests in Japanese art and culture.

     

    JAPAN


    JAJ: I am intrigued by your fascination with the art of Japan. What first drew you to Japan after your studies at DePaul?

    KS:  I visited Nagasaki the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year in high school. It was my first international travel experience and the influence was profound. I took a Japanese Language class at DePaul initially as a graduation requirement. After the first semester, I was excited and motivated to continue pursuing art and Japanese.

    Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s, Japanese culture permeated our sources of electronic entertainment in the United States. Nintendo and Super Maria, Sega and Sonic the Hedgehog, Voltron. These cultural exports were tremendously inspiring. It was not until my teens and early 20s that I was able to connect them with the country of Japan.

    Cover of Mangajin: Basic Japanese through ComicsI also grew up reading and enjoying Marvel and DC comics—particularly X-Men and Batman—as Saturday morning and after school cartoons showcased these characters. When deciding my career goals, I had an inkling that it was to write stories via comics. Comics, and now graphic novels show a tremendous visual experience. Pictorial compositions explain the words; the words explain the pictures. It was a glorious calligraphy of shape and line.

    At DePaul, while I floundered to declare a major, the university newspaper accepted an illustration in my freshman year. I drew comics for four years there under the mentorship of an illustrator named Brian Troyan and an editor named Will Moss. Will Moss is now an editor at Marvel Comics. While drawing comics and studying Japanese, a textbook entitled Mangajin’s Basic Japanese through Comics delivered a decisive, life course altering impact. [1]  I read this glorious text over and over during my college summers, when not driving a forklift at my summer work gig. In this Rosetta Stone-like manual, Japanese and English were placed side by side with comics. Words I understood and attractive pictures set alongside words I was struggling to understand. It was a door-opening portal whose rewards plunged me into a new world of cultural norms, and expectations. The art forms, the pictorial language had the savor of childhood nostalgia and yet was more.

    JAJ: In a 2022 interview you said of the art you saw in Japan that “There was a mysterious quality about that work that I wanted to participate in and be part of.” [2]  Can you speak more about that quality and what and how “being a part of it” means?

    KS:  I am fascinated by the woodblock print designs of the Edo period. The Great Wave over Kanagawa, from Hokusai’s 36 views of Mt. Fuji is a stellar example. [3]  The compositions are magnificent. The shapes, colors, and tonal masses are balanced. The line work is exquisite. I find them to be poetic representations of life at that time.

    My residence in Japan was permitted by a work visa acquired through an English teaching corporation. I worked at elementary and junior high schools in the Bunkyo ward as an Assistant Learning Teacher supporting English teachers and providing native examples. I was riding the subway in Tokyo in 2007 and noticed an ad campaign by the metropolitan government entitled Edo Shigusa or Old Tokyo’s Manners. [4]

     

     

    It depicted passengers on a streetcar sliding over to make room for another to sit down. There were multiple versions, people turning their umbrellas while passing on a crowded sidewalk, etc.  The style looked like a Hokusai print. Yet the characters mingled period dress with cell phones, suits, and ties—it  was a seamless  blend of past and present. I had to find the artist. His name is Yamaguchi Akira, and he is a contemporary fine artist working in Tokyo, and represented by Mizuma Art Gallery near Shinjuku. [5]  Seeking out his art shows in galleries put me in pursuit of this mysterious quality. I think it may be a canon of pictorial forms in Japan.

     

    JAJ:  You recently co-lead a Small Group Journey on the “Textile and Traditional Arts of Japan” that saw you visiting several cities. The itinerary was fairly elaborate! [6] What was your role? Did you help plan the tour?

    KS:  My role was in assisting the founder of Tanpopo Journeys, Koshiki Yonemura, with guiding guests on the workshop visits, translating language and cultural questions, and navigating the train system.

    Tanpopo Journeys Logo Koshiki had been my boss at a Japanese noodle restaurant in Lowertown Saint Paul called Tanpopo Noodle Shop. She, her husband Ben, her mother, and brother Ira, as well as an incredible, tightly knit team of kitchen and serving staff operated Tanpopo at a standard of excellence that drew me back multiple times to eat delicious soba and udon  noodles.

    After about the 3rd visit, I had to turn in an application and worked as a server there. I served evenings from Thurs ~ Saturday, which connected me to the Lowertown Arts Community. We would finish our shift at 9 or 10pm, slurp an amazing bowl of udon, and walk over to Saturday night jazz at the Black Dog Cafe. Concert musicians played together on that stage from around the metro area, nation, and internationally, for tips! One beer, live music, and a community of working artists formed a very constructive artistic environment.

    In a simple way, I was maintaining a connection to Japan. But I felt that if I was to grow beyond teaching English, and wanted to produce higher quality artwork, I needed help. At around 2011/12, I began taking a night class in northeast Minneapolis in a studio called the Atelier. [7]  The content of the class was pure drawing. We arrived, set up an object to draw, and worked on one drawing for 14 weeks. I left with blurry eyes, frustration, and a growing ability to draw well. It fed my soul, and was to become a pathway to full time study of classical methods of drawing and painting. 

    THE ATELIER


    JAJ: You mention in your Artist Statement that your work draws on the atelier tradition. What is it about the atelier approach that calls to you as an artist? And further, how do you translate that tradition to your students?

    The Atelier tradition in America goes back to the Boston School, a group of American painters in the late 19th century that traveled to Paris to study oil painting. Painters like William Paxton, and Thomas Eakins made the transatlantic journey to study in the ateliers (French for workshop) of renowned French artists like Jean-Léon Gérôme, Léon Bonnat, Alexandre Cabanel, and William Bougeureau (see the “Carpet Merchants” at the Minneapolis Institute of Art). [8]

    This teacher to student transmission of knowledge includes intense study of classical sculpture via cast drawing and cast painting. Along with learning to see, daily drawing and painting from a live model, as well as still life painting develops a student’s ability to see visual information and translate it accurately onto paper or canvas.

     JAJ: This may seem like an odd question, more likely an ignorant one! When I read up about the atelier tradition certain aspects of it struck me as almost rigid. It’s not copying per se, but there it seems there is a creatively finite quality to realism. Does it seem that way to you?

    KS: This is an excellent question that is hotly debated. I chose the atelier tradition because it has equipped me with the tools to develop my artistic vision and a method to express it. When I lived in Tokyo, and intuitively tried to sketch either from life on the street or from examples in books, I could not replicate the lines and shapes. Not only that, I could not see or figure out the gap between the two. It was humbling! I needed the guidance of a skilled teacher to first open my eyes. And it wasn’t solely a function of my eyeballs, but also a development of the mind, heart, and hand to a more subtle, sophisticated translation of what we think we see. When that understanding unfolds onto paper or canvas, this can be described as the language of art.

    The thread of human figurative art that weaves through Ancient Egypt, Greece, Roman art, the Italian Renaissance, and the French Salon are irresistible. The best of it is so profoundly beautiful, and the paragons of this tradition are steeped in learning from our predecessors. The more I make copies of past great work; the more I appreciate its wonder. I would make a musical analogy, great piano and violin players are encouraged to practice scales and learn Mozart before attempting to compose a symphony. I feel a similar way about drawing from Michaelangelo or Cabanel.

    Portrait of Clementine & Schweiger copy

    THE PORTRAIT OF CLEMENTINE


    JAJ: Henri Lehmann’s Portrait of Clementine is a dramatic painting and stands out among the other works in the MIA gallery. Were you looking for something in particular when you saw her? Or was there something about her specifically that made you want to paint her? [9]

    KS: The Portrait of Clementine is a world class masterpiece of oil painting. It is strikingly naturalistic; as if a woman put on a dress, styled her hair, and sat down on the other side of the window. It is also composed expertly—the perspective, light source, and arrangement of light and dark shapes are well balanced. The oval frame echoes the shapes within the portrait.

    Lastly, the technical layering of colors is done with a deep and thorough understanding of oil paint. There are subtle green color notes within the forehead that could not have been painted directly on the surface layers. They emerge from within gently giving dimension to the forms of the brow, eye socket. There are bright orange/red accents within the shadows at the nostril, and upper lip. This leads me to believe that some of the underpainted layers are being allowed to show through a semi opaque veil.

    JAJ: How long have you been working on this painting? Do you have to be in the museum in front of her or can you work on it in your personal studio?

    KS: I began painting on Clementine in August of 2021. I did a grisaille or grey scale painting to prepare the canvas in my studio. [10] From there, all color work was done in front of the painting at the museum.

    JAJ: At one point when we were talking in the museum, you pointed to Clementine’s forearm, just below her bracelet. You spoke of the softness of the color along the line of light and Lehmann’s careful brushstrokes. You wanted to capture that. As a writer I would compare that to reading a certain author and noticing a specific quality in their writing that I might want to imitate or echo. Is this what you meant by “capturing?” Is it a matter just of technique or something else, something more? What or how do you think when you “capture?”

    KS: Yes absolutely! Ted Seth Jacobs, an American painter, once said he does not teach technique when drawing. He asks students to carefully express what they understand about a person’s face or body in a drawing, and technique is born from that search.

    I wanted to catch a glimpse of Lehmann’s form sense. He expressed an idea about the sensual quality of her arm, skin, hair, and dress, and said it in paint. We understand in this painting what is round, flat, or soft. We get a tactile sense of the textures, how they feel, by studying the painting. We also feel the presence of a specific person in this picture.

    Kenneth Schweiger can be found online here:

    If you have a question or comment for me, drop me a line via my Contact page.

    © J.A. Jablonski 2023. All rights reserved.

     

    How to cite this post

    Jablonski, J.A. (2023; Feb 21). Ten Toe Interview: Kenneth Patrick Schweiger. Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
    https://jajablonski.com/2023/02/21/interview-kenneth-patrick-schweiger


    IMAGE CREDITS

    Kenneth Schweiger painting Lehmann’s Portrait of Clémentine in the Minneapolis Institute of Art in October 2022. Photo by J.A. Jablonski (All rights reserved).

    Portrait of Kenneth Schweiger. Image provided by Mr. Schweiger.

    Mangajin’s Basic Japanese through Comics. Book cover. From Japanese Quizzes website.

    “Edo Shigusa or Old Tokyo’s Manners.” From the Neko Jitablog. (2015-02-11).

    Tanpopo Journeys Logo. From their Facebook page.

    Kenneth Schweiger’s version of “Portrait of Clementine” in front of the original painting by Lehman at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Photo by J.A. Jablonski (All rights reserved).

    SOURCES | NOTES

    [1] Mangajin’s basic Japanese through Comics : A Compilation of the First 24 Basic Japanese Columns from Mangajin Magazine. (1998). Weatherhill. ISBNS:  9780834804524 & 0834804522. WorldCat record.

    [2] Episode 001 of  “The Artist Stool” interview (YouTube, 2022).

    [3] 36 views of Mt. Fuji. (1760–1849). This Wikipedia article displays the images.

    [4] Edo Shigusa or Old Tokyo’s Manners. A 2015 article in the Japan Times cites a page from the “government-approved morals education textbook “Watashitachi no Doutoku” (“Our Morals”), for fifth- and sixth-graders, [that] describes behaviors said to be from the Edo Period.”

    A search for that textbook brought up this interesting article: Unsriana, Linda & Ningrum, Rosita. (2018). “The Character Formation of Children in Japan: A Study of Japanese Children Textbook on Moral Education (Doutoku).” Lingua Cultura. 12. 363. 10.21512/lc.v12i4.4270. It can be read in full at this link.

    [5] Yamaguchi Akira. Artist. His information page at the Mizuma Art Gallery.

    [6] The latest itinerary for this tour can be found at this link.

    [7] The Atelier Studio Program of Fine Arts. 1621 East Hennepin Avenue, Suite 280
    Minneapolis, MN 55414. Website.

    [8] More on the artists Schweiger mentions can be found here. The detail and quality of the information in these Wikipedia articles varies. Some, but not all, include links to collections that hold the artist’s work(s), exhibition catalogs, and external links to research articles and/or websites.

    [9] A brief article on Henri Lehmann can be found on Wikipedia. More of his works can be seen at the ArtNet website here.

    [10] As Schweiger notes, a grisaille is monochromatic painting in shades of gray. This article by Scott E. Bartner shows the step-by-step progression from a grisaille to a complete work. (“Working Up from a Grisaille.” (n.d.) Artists Network website.)

     

    Deanna Raybourn | Killers of a Certain Age

    L: Author portrait of Deanna Raybourn; C: Cover of Killers of a Certain Age; R: Bourbon Street, New Orleans

    “Killers of a Certain Age is sharp and breezy, dark humored and sometimes desperately funny.

    It gives women their voice, their rage, and their utter competence.“

    Oh my, I do hope Deanna Raybourn had as much fun writing Killers of a Certain Age (2022) as I did reading it. Focused and witty, Raybourn is utterly in command from the sly, initial author’s note to the final moments and summary remark. Killers is an out-of-the-park home run of a read. [1]

     

    THE STORY

    As always, I am interested in the how and how well of a tale, not a specific running through of events. But an overview of the story is needed. This from Raybourn’s website:

    “Older women often feel invisible, but sometimes that’s their secret weapon.

     

    Billie, Mary Alice, Helen, and Natalie have worked for the Museum, an elite network of assassins, for forty years. Now their talents are considered old-school and no one appreciates what they have to offer in an age that relies more on technology than people skills.

     

    When the foursome is sent on an all-expenses paid vacation to mark their retirement, they are targeted by one of their own. Only the Board, the top-level members of the Museum, can order the termination of field agents, and the women realize they’ve been marked for death.

     

    Now to get out alive they have to turn against their own organization, relying on experience and each other to get the job done, knowing that working together is the secret to their survival. They’re about to teach the Board what it really means to be a woman—and a killer—of a certain age.”

    “It’s kill or be killed, but they’ve been at this a long time….” (from the cover)

    I find thrillers stressful reading and usually avoid them. What drew me to Raybourn’s Killers was representation, pure and simple. (And that cover blurb that promised a witty telling!) I am of that same certain age and rarely do I find crime fiction about older women that isn’t of the cozy variety. Now I enjoy me a go-round with Ms. Marple as well as the next, but give her a fierce eye, strong friends of her own kind, and a reason for a little sex and serious revenge, well now, take my money!

    Killers of a Certain Age is sharp and breezy, dark humored and sometimes desperately funny. It gives women their voice, their rage, and their utter competence.

     

    CHARACTER, PLOT, & VOICE

    I look for characters with heft. The main four women in Killers have solidity; initially a bit too 007 but their eventually revealed backstories flesh them out credibly. Secondary and even minor characters are sketched with sufficient verity. Raybourn tells you how people look with an easy swiftness. There seems to be a future tense cinematic awareness on her part but one can envision one’s own Billie, or Akiko, or Kevin by the way they move, their mannerisms, and the impact of their respective pasts.

    The very real notion of what age does to a body, the female body in particular, is not shied away from. I can imagine that there are some who will find these “impossible old bitches” as Billie calls themselves at varous points implausible in terms of their ability to recover quickly enough from various injuries or overextension to save the day, themselves, or each other. That’s the grace of fiction and, in this case, Raybourn’s stylish speed and narrative flash. (Perhaps one can be inspired to higher levels of self care even if covert assassin is not our job title.)

    The plot is patterned like a detailed tapestry, every move stitched, every knot tied just so. There is more than one moment that seems incredible, but the flow of the action sweeps you along with a complicit wink. Killers begs to be on the big screen (though I confess I dread that, fearing a glam casting and a male-gazing direction that would ruin all).

    And the narrative voice burns with its focus. It is fierce though not always loud—in places it is almost gentle—but the telling is so en pointe, so confident, so almost joyous in its intent that as a reader you feel utterly held and challenged to keep up with the rush of considerable action.

    A couple novels of crime & mystery, though utterly different in tone and style, have struck me with a comparable trifecta of well-balanced character, plot, and voice: Dorothy L. Sayers’ Gaudy Night (1935) and Ellis Peters’ Brother Cadfael’s Penance (1994). [2, 3] And a few have come near: Laurie King’s Touchstone (2008), Marco Carocari’s Blackout (2021), and Jill Paton Walsh’s A Presumption of Death (2002). [4, 5, 6] And, if I may dare to speak of a book I’ve only just begun, Fiona Erskine’s Phosphate Rocks (2021), looks to be shooting for a spot on my list of best crime books. [7]

    Writing Hard, Writing Soft

    What drives Killers is its vivid, urgent storytelling. I was with these women the entire way, gripped by the nape as it were, to see what they did, what they decided, and to be frank, how they killed and thought about killing, individually and collectively. This last, the very last—how the women thought about their “job”—while only intermittently mentioned was a bit tricky. Killers is meant to be an entertaining read not a discussion of ethics. In the end I think we want to believe we’d be as honorable.

    The Sphinxes they’ve been named. Billie, the first person narrator of the present time chapters, is intellectual and ruthless, a natural leader. The remaining trio, Mary Alice, Helen, and Natalie, are less defined but they have their moments in terms of personality and the lethal precision of their respective skill sets. There are men, well-delineated and credible, one perhaps a tad idealized, but for the most part Raybourn keeps the focus on the women.

    The Sphinxes are superb, meticulous planners but when things go awry—and we know they will—they are immediately inventive and cool under fire. And they trust and respect each other, not simply for their skills but for who they are and how they think and feel.

    But there are grace notes to the story as well, moments of tenderness: when Cassandra Halliday, the women’s Museum mentor in their youth, confronts Billie and uses a painting to make her point; when one of the women recalls an old lover with sensual, tender intensity; when the notion of female solidarity is captured by the making sure hotel maids don’t have to clean up after their ‘work’ and the giving of a ginger drop by one of the old timers to a younger.

    Writer as Exemplar

    With any of the titles cited above I could imagine something different at certain points, usually having to do with a plot point or a certain aspect of a character. My tweaking in Killers would be only a matter of authorial style but it was a useful exercise to imagine how I might have approached a certain scene differently, useful to imagine why Raybourn made the choices she did.

    I learned quite a bit from her re: terse visual description via point of view, practical sentence-to-sentence sequencing, and that notion of utterly trusting one’s reader to be a companion in the process. And while my own idiosyncrasy is to read simultaneously as reader and as writer, never did I feel Raybourn’s heavy hand as author. I like to think I heard her laughter though.

    There is real work behind Killers’ blithe ferocity and it is truly impressive. They say the best actors are those who make it look easy, who don’t seem to be acting at all. If Killers of a Certain Age does make it to the cinema, Raybourn has given the cast gold to work with.

    Author Bio

    “New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist Deanna Raybourn is a 6th-generation Texan with a degree in English and history from UTSA. Her novels have been nominated for numerous awards including the Edgar, RT Reviewers’ Choice, the Agatha, two Dilys Winns, and the Last Laugh. She launched a Victorian mystery series featuring intrepid butterfly-hunter Veronica Speedwell in 2015. This Edgar-nominated series is ongoing. Her first contemporary thriller, Killers of a Certain Age, chronicles the adventures of four female assassins who must band together against the organization that would rather see them dead than let them retire.” (From the author’s Press Kit)

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    © J.A. Jablonski 2022. All rights reserved.

     

    ABOUT BOOK THOUGHTS

    Book Thoughts is an intermittent column within my blog. The essays are both book reviews and book responses. I like to converse with and around the books I read.

    How to cite this post

    Jablonski, J.A. (2022, Dec 26). Deanna Raybourn|Killers of a Certain Age. Blog post. J.A. Jablonski (website).
    https://jajablonski.com/2022/12/26/deanna-raybourn-killers


    IMAGE CREDITS

    Header image

      • Left: Author Portrait of Deanna Raybourn (From her Press Kit)
      • Center: Cover of Killers of a Certain Age (From Raybourn’s Press Kit)
      • Right:  Bourbon Street, New Orleans. Photo by David Reynolds on Unsplash

    SOURCES

    Disclaimer: As a Bookshop Affiliate (US only) I will earn a commission if you click through on a book title I’ve linked to and make a purchase.

    [1] Raybourn, Deanna. (2022). Killers of a Certain Age. Berkley Books. For a complete listing of Raybourn’s’ books see her website.

    [2] Sayers, Dorothy L. (1935). Gaudy Night. This link is to the 2012 Harper Paperbacks edition.

    [3] Peters, Ellis. (1996). Brother Cadfael’s Penance. Mysterious Press.

    [4] King, Laurie R. (2008). Touchstone. Bantam.

    [5] Carocari, Marco. (2021). Blackout. Level Best Books.

    [6] Walsh, Jill Paton. (2002). A Presumption of Death. St. Martins.

    [7] Erskine, Fiona. (2021). Phosphate Rocks. Sandstone Press.