Decades ago, when my third
and last child hopped on the school bus, I got around to what I hoped would be
my life’s work: I was going to be a full-time artist. It soon became obvious
that while I might be having a great time painting in my studio, I was never
going to make a living at it – my 1920s Weimar Germany satirical style wasn’t
exactly what people wanted over their fireplace. Since I was determined never
to go back to teaching in the public schools
(I would go on Welfare first,) I needed to find an alternative source of
income – “just in case.” Maybe I could be a children’s book illustrator? At least that would not be a life sentence to
the gulag of the Junior Highs.
But if I planned to be an
illustrator, I needed a portfolio to show potential publishers; “commercial,
but with artistic merit.” I found an old Eastern European folk tale, “Clever
Manka” (in the public domain) and proceeded to create a series of drypoint
etchings to illustrate it. Fortunately, I had come up with a way of making
drypoints that did not require a press, something I could do on the kitchen
table without special equipment. The results seemed passable so I “dummied” up
a book and set up an appointment with a Children’s Book Editor at Harper &
Row” – the big time. Off I went to the
city with my six year old (no baby sitter available) in tow. The editor I saw LOVED my work, loved it!
loved it! Said it was ‘unique’ – (it
was). She planned to show it to her boss, the famous Ursula von something – a
legend in the children’s book world. And then, nothing happened. When I called
to enquire, I was told that the editor I had seen was no longer at Harper &
Row and since persistence has never been one of my outstanding qualities, my
career as a children’s book illustrator ended before it had begun. 
There was one problem
however, my short foray into the commercial world had without my realizing it,
done considerable damage. I had acquired a serious case of what I call “the
Cutes.” Everything I did looked adorable, like children’s book illustration; I
had lost my satirical bite. It took almost two years to get back to my old
sardonic self. Every once in a while since then, I try my hand at commercial
illustration but I am very careful not to take it too seriously lest “the
Cutes” take me over again.
I have several friends who
were once very successful commercial illustrators and designers; in fact some
of them were at the top of the New York advertising heap, award winning and all
that. They all retired to be “fine artists” but could never rid themselves of
the slickness that came from years of having to please clients. Even when there
was no buyer or gallery in view, their
work always looked “saleable” i.e. “commercial.” Most of the time, they were
unaware of the problem, convinced that they could make it in the fine arts the
way they had in advertising or publishing. And while their work was always of
high quality, the desire to sell, the scarlet letter “S” on their foreheads,
never went away. In effect, I was fortunate that my career as a children’s book
illustrator had ended before real damage was done.
I dug out some of my stabs
at being an illustrator to use for this blog and after not having seen them for
years, decided they’re NOT BAD. Maybe I could have been a good children’s book
illustrator. The irony is that the extra income I wanted ended up coming from
teaching art history on the University level - and that, I think, made me a
better artist, although definitely not a very cute one.
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