Tomie dePaola Biography

When I was a student at Pratt in the 1950s, studying illustration, I remember a fellow student asking one of our instructors, “When do we learn about style?” “We won’t learn about style,” he re­plied. “Style happens naturally. If you keep on working, eventually the way you can and want to express yourself will surface. Meanwhile, do the assignments, listen to the critiques, don’t miss your drawing classes, painting classes, design classes and, by all means, look at everything. Go to the galleries and the museums. Your own style will surface.”

Another instructor, the wonderful Richard Lindner, told us, “Observe. Observe every­thing around you. Observe what you are inter­ested in. Observe what kind of objects you sur­round yourself with. That will give you the clue to your own vision.” During the summer of 1955,1 was studying at Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture in Maine. I was fortunate enough to work with Ben Shahn, who was an idol of mine. The wise words from this great man were similar. Style evolves. He also spoke to me at length about “the shape of content.” It was Shahn’s thought that “a point of view conditions the paint surface which the artist creates.”

So, being a “good student,” I listened to my mentors. I noticed how my devotion changed from Jon Whitcomb, who did “pretty girl” illustra­tions, to Shahn, Picasso, Bonnard, and Rouault. How the “candy box” religious art from my Cath­olic boyhood was replaced by Cimabue, Fra Angelico, Giotto, and Botticelli and all those Un­known sculptors and fresco painters of the Roman­esque period. How over the years my love of folk art from all cultures became and still is close to obsessive.

All these things added up and my style began to emerge. And it hasn’t really changed in over thirty-five years. The roots are there in my early drawings and paintings — things done way before I began illustrating books. There are white birds, pink tiled roofs, arched doors and windows. My early love of line and strong design and stylization has grown and been refined over the years, but the seeds are all there in the early work.

My work is recognizable. I’ve chosen to follow my own vision rather than switch around and try what is fashionable or “au courant.” It thrills and pleases me when teachers, parents, and librarians tell me that young children know when they are looking at one of my books or a piece of my art. My style is purely an outward expression of my own inner vision, further determined in its nu­ances by the content of the piece being visualized.

At Pratt Institute, students were also exposed to a myriad of technical skills — representational drawing, rendering, perspective, stylized drawing, use of nonrepresentational color, various painting techniques — and mediums. Success was mea­sured by how well one could use the various tech­niques and skills when called upon. But, finally in junior and senior year, favorite mediums and fa­vorite ways of applying them became very individ­ual and personal. Even to this day, I can do a pho­tographic rendering if I have to. (I’d rather give up popcorn or use a camera.) Those skills and tech­niques are just that — methods to be called upon when needed. My preference is for strong line and design, using the medium and technique appro­priate to the piece.

I personally use one of several techniques for my work. The first is very straightforward — a dark brown line with the color applied within the line. For this, I use Rotring Artists Colors, which is a liq­uid transparent acrylic paint. I use it because it is color-fast and permanent and totally intermixable. It reduces with water and is waterproof when dry, so I can build up thin “skins” of color. The Art Les­son was done in this technique.

The second technique is more painterly. I use acrylic paints opaquely. I lay down a base color, usually a golden shade. Next, I do a line drawing, again with a dark brown line. Then, I begin paint­ing, building up layer after layer. Bonjour, Mr. Satie is a good example of this technique.

The third technique I employ is a combination of the two — both transparent and opaque, with the occasional use of colored pencils as well. I used this technique in Hark!

Unfortunately, technique can mask bad com­position and bad drawing. Flashy, rendered photo­graphic art can overwhelm the untrained eye so that mediocre expression gets undeserved atten­tion. The personal expression that style hinges on is just that — personal. And after thirty years of il­lustrating books, I’d need several volumes to pass on all that I think about when I create my books.