I often wonder why so many people are desperate to get into children’s publishing. And, while I’m sure the reasons for it are varied, one of the things I love most about being able to draw (and it ending up in picture books) is that I end up feeling quite useful – and feeling useful to another human being feels good.
Might the act of mark-making be a pathway to the subconscious where we get to meet a version of ourselves we’ve never met before?
What benefits come from leaving room for another human or two to intepret and find meaning in the work we make?
Why do so many kids stop drawing at the age of about 10. And what if they didn’t?
Who decides what gets to embed and live continuously in our culture for hundreds of years? And if it does, does it mean it’s good?
What happens when you start from a place of asking what would happen if? What risks (and new doors) open up?
