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As many others this morning, I was saddened to learn of the passing of Chris Marker. He was such a notoriously private man, so playfully elusive, he loomed so large in my mind, that I was shocked to see a photograph of him in the newspaper. Could it be that Chris Marker was a mere mortal? In all the years that I had followed his work (from Sans Soleil to The Koumiko Mystery and beyond), how could I have gathered so little biographical information about him? (What I “knew” before today: He worked with Alain Resnais on Night and Fog. He named himself after a magic marker.) Now I have a bit more data (thanks to the obituaries) but none of it changes the essentials: Marker was a brilliant shapeshifter, an artistic visionary, a true anticolonial globalist. Throughout my twenties, he was very important to me. I rushed to see his films whenever they were screened (too seldomly) at Cinemateque. I even used his work as a litmus test for potential boyfriends. I will forever hold him in my pantheon of inspirations and mavericks. Chris Marker may have been a mere mortal but he was one that aggrandized my notions of what it means to be a creative and empathetic person.

“Things that Quicken the Heart” (for Chris Marker):

1. Art that is ostensibly about one thing (i.e. African art) but really about another (i.e. French colonialism). See—Statues Also Die.

2. Any filmmaker who bravely wears his/her heart and politics on his/her sleeve. (“Trying to give the floor to people who haven’t got it, and, when possible, to help them to find their means of expression.”)

3. The Narita Airport protest scene in Sans Soleil. (A man I knew appears for a brief moment.)

4. Any artist who knows that digression and free association are not simply formal strategies but are ultimately ways of reaching beyond the known and sanctified to the mysterious and marginalized.

5. The moment in The Koumiko Mystery when Chris Marker (in Tokyo for the ’64 Olympics) settles his camera on a face in the stadium crowd, that of a young Japanese woman named Koumiko.

6. Any artist who loves cats enough to use one as his surrogate. (See—Agnès Varda’s The Beaches of Agnes.)

7. Any filmmaker who is admiring and grateful enough to create paeans to peer filmmakers. See—A.K.: Akira Kurosawa and One Day in the Life of Andrei Arsenevitch: Andrei Tarkovsky.

8.

(Photos: Still from La Jetée; portrait of Chris Marker.)

I love collaboration. Collaboration is a window flung open to the skies. It’s a bulwark against stasis, a kind surrender to the unexpected. No matter how much I may enjoy working alone (toiling away in my dingy garret), collaboration reminds me to keep the windows open and let the light and air through. No one thrives in solitary confinement. My creative introverted brain is always replenished by outside visitors.

As a picture book writer, I have come to await that moment when I must relinquish my story. I have come to await it not as someone anticipating the end of something but as someone rushing towards the beginning.

Here is something I have discovered. A good collaborator will decorate your ideas and prettify your pages. A great collaborator will take your unfinished notions and put them through a process of enhancement and enchantment so astonishing that, by the end, they’ll have whisked you off to an even-better invented world.

I count my lucky stars that I have been blessed with great collaborators. Both Isabelle Arsenault and Matte Stephens make art that balances sophistication with playfulness, and cleverness with heart. Matte’s particular approach is to take familiar objects and people, and re-arrange them in surreal and delightful ways that are not obvious at all. Isabelle, widely celebrated for her beautiful depth of detail, has a terrific knack for using white space, a lot of white space, active white space. She has taught me that the best illustrations give room for, rather than confine, the imagination of the reader.

Isabelle and I have done two books together. In both instances, I have watched her move from initial sketches and mood boards to finished art. I have seen her go and live inside a story, exploring the emotional intricacies of a scene with a focus that might make some wonder if she was applying the Stanislavsky Method to illustration. Her intuition astounds me. She often seems more attentive to the inner workings of my stories than I am.

Here’s an example. There is a revelatory moment at the end of Virginia Wolf where Virginia is transformed from a wolf back into a girl. Isabelle used a clever visual trick involving silhouetted wolf ears and a large bow. Let me just say that I did not write or foresee this transition at all. Isabelle found it inside the story and, happily for everyone, it has become the crowning touch of the whole book.

This is the kind of out-of-the-blue magic that happens when you collaborate: you hand your collaborator a cube and they give you a dodecahedron in return. When you loosen your hold on a work, a communal form of talent takes over. There is room for anything to happen.

Reprinted from Uppercase Magazine, issue 14. Order it now to get a heartful serving of work and words by über-illustrators Matte Stephens, Isabelle Arsenault, Agata Dudek, Jon Klassen, Oliver Jeffers and more!

(Photos: Crockett Johnson and Ruth Krauss; Jeanne-Claude and Christo in the early days.)

Isabelle and I received nice news today from La Pastèque. Fourchon (the French translation of Spork) is a finalist for the Prix Jeunesse des Libraires du Québec. The award will be announced on September 22, 2012.

To offset possible accusations of wolfism or “giving wolves a bad name,” let it be officially noted that I am very fond of wolves. Truly. I am aware that wolves, in addition to their unruly qualities, can be quite shy and are often congenial. One of the first non-fiction books I can recall reading was Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat. (I remember thinking that it was a surprisingly funny book and wishing that I could learn the “wolf language” described within.) One of the first audio stories my children ever heard was Prokoviev’s Peter and the Wolf, conducted and narrated by Leonard Bernstein. (They still both love the finale when Peter urges the hunters to spare the wolf so that the wolf can be taken to the zoo in a triumphant procession.)

It has become happily apparent to me, if it wasn’t already, that culture is full of great wolf representations. In hopes of enhancing your reading experience, I present these books as a complement to my own. I believe you will find among the wolves gathered here, many wildly unexpected and endearing qualities.

1. Wolf by Sara Fanelli (“Wolf finds that being a wolf is a disadvantage when it comes to making friends because people seem always angry at him, and he wonders if he will ever find a friendly face.”)

2. Wolf Won’t Bite! by Emily Gravett (“Three cheeky little circus pigs make a wild wolf jump through hoops [literally], endure feats of astounding derring-do, and even withstand perilous games of dress-up. Safe in the thought that “Wolf Won’t Bite!” they even put their heads between his jaws…but can you push a wolf too far?”) Note: This book was reviewed alongside Virginia Wolf here.

3. Good Little Wolf by Nadia Shireen (“Rolf, a small, gentle wolf, lives with Mrs. Boggins, who tells him he is a good little wolf. But when he meets up with a large, ferocious wolf, he is told that he isn’t a real wolf. Wolves aren’t little and good—they are big and bad…”)

Isabelle Arsenault has made an “Ears and Bow” transformation kit for the launch of the French edition of Virginia Wolf. She presented samples to me during her recent visit to Toronto and I couldn’t wait to assemble one.

I can’t tell you what a pleasure it was to finally meet Isabelle and her husband Frédéric Gauthier in person. Frédéric runs the Montreal-based publishing house La Pastèque together with his charming friend Martin Brault. Aside from being a curator of all things beautifully bookish, Frédéric is also a gourmand and wine connoisseur. We enjoyed the most delectable and indulgent meal at the Black Hoof in Toronto and chatted about books and art and bicycles and camping and by the end of the evening, as we zigzagged our way back to their hotel, I felt that I was in the presence of very good friends.

A highlight of the evening for me was getting a sneak peek at Isabelle’s forthcoming graphic novel, a collaboration with Fanny Britt. I think it’s the most beautiful book I’ve ever seen and it is definitely number one on my wishlist for Fall 2012. I love the way Isabelle looks at the world and I feel so fortunate to be able to see her work expand in new directions. She is a true artist.

Isabelle will be taking part in Kids Day and a launch for Virginia Wolf at Librairie D&Q in Montreal this coming Sunday, May 20th at 11 a.m. I wish I could be there too. xo