The South Asian Illustration and Literature Festival is returning for its second year and will take place at Tate Britain on 27 September, 2025.  We were delighted to catch up with its pioneering co-founders Sinead Gosai, Chitra Soundar and Sanchita Basu De Sarkar to discuss the event.  Don’t miss your opportunity to book tickets and to be part of this hugely exciting and important festival.

Congratulations on the second year of SAILfest, when and where will this year's festival be held and who's able to attend this and how please? 

SINEAD: For our second year, we’re proud to be working with Tate Publishing, where we’ll host SAIL Fest in the Clore Auditorium at Tate Britain on Saturday 27th September. Everyone is welcome, regardless of your heritage - as long as you have an interest in children’s publishing. We have a number of ticket options to suit all budgets and we’d love as many authors, illustrators, librarians, booksellers, editors, agents etc to come along and join the conversation on the day - either in person or virtually. 

Can you tell us a bit about the background to SAILfest?

SINEAD: Sanchita Basu De Sarkar came up with the idea and initially approached Chitra and me to get involved. It’s something we’d all been separately having conversations about and we just decided to get together and get stuck in. It was honestly quite crazy looking back at how quickly we managed to pull it all together. We’re all really passionate about uplifting and championing our community and set out to create a safe space to do that in. 

SAILfest have been doing some fantastic work since last year's inaugural festival, what have been some of the highlights for you and why?

SINEAD: The buzz and excitement from the first festival has been tough to beat, but we’ve continued to run small scale events throughout the year - we hosted a networking event towards the end of last year, as that was something a lot of attendees were keen on continuing to make connections in person and online and earlier this year we ran our first online book launch and virtual networking event. I think the highlight truly was seeing the impact and how much having that space to get together and have honest conversations and celebrate our successes and joys together really meant. 

What are some of the highlights on this year's programme and what can attendees expect if attending?

SINEAD: We have a brilliant line up this year, exploring the barriers and possibilities in publishing. We have a debut panel, a panel exploring how to sustain a career in the industry and a panel talking about how to publicise and amplify our voices. We also have some interactive creative sessions, a book launch and a networking evening. So it’s a pretty jammed packed day. Book your SAILFest tickets here - https://www.sailfest.org.uk/sailfest2025 

This year, we’re also so excited to be partnering with The Barbican to host a special SAIL Fest family film club event for the public, so bring your little readers along. You can register and book your tickets here.
 

This year's festival is in collaboration with Tate publishing, how did that partnership come about and what value does it add?

CHITRA: Tate’s senior commissioning Editor Cherise Lopes-Baker had been on a panel at our first festival and she was instrumental in championing the festival with her publishing team and brought us together and we’re delighted to be able to collaborate on this year’s festival. The space allows us to open our doors to even more delegates this year. It’s heartening to work with a publisher who is keen to support our mission to uplift those of South Asian heritage working across the kid lit space. 

With the decline in publications reported through Reflecting Realities and the closing of Tiny Owl publishers it feels like we're entering a potentially more challenging time for diverse and inclusive publishing.  How important is it that librarians are part of the conversations and what role are they able to play in the industry?

SANCHITA: It is increasingly concerning and something we’re saddened to see. Librarians can be some of the most powerful advocates for inclusive publishing, not only as gatekeepers of what gets into readers' hands, but also as trusted voices in shaping demand and influencing systemic change. This can be such a huge asset to publishers. When librarians are intentionally stocking and promoting our books, it lets publishers know there's an audience for our stories. 

CHITRA: Libraries are the beating heart of any community and having your local library advocate for you as an author can be so powerful because they open the author and the book to a wider audience - not just teachers and students but for the wider community. Librarians keep a diverse range of books visible and celebrated with communities on the ground. And through PLR, borrowing trends and library highlights, they are able to advocate for inclusive books with data and evidence. 

ALL: Don’t forget! Book your tickets to SAIL Fest 2025 here. 

A big thank you to Sinead Gosai, Chitra Soundar and Sanchita Basu De Sarkar

The 2025 Carnegie Medal for Illustration has been awarded to Clever Crow illustrated by Olivia Lomenech Gill and written by Chris Butterworth.  Olivia kindly took time out to answer some questions about illustration.

(1)  What books do you remember from childhood?

When I around seven or eight my dad read me The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.  I grew up with the illustrations from the calendars and also enjoying Tolkien’s own illustrations.  I also admired the works of E. H. Shepherd and Judith Kerr.  When my boys were young, I became interested in David McKee’s work and we exchanged a few cards.  We have some of his lovely envelopes!

(2) The first book you illustrated was Where My Wellies Take Me by Clare and Michael Morpurgo.  It was shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway medal.  How did that come about?

I was on holiday in Brittany and was staying with my parents-in-law.  I always like to go out and see things and I’d seen a poster advertising a book festival for young people.  We took a picnic and went to visit the festival.  The organisers found out that Vincent had grown up down the road but that we were now living on the Scottish Borders.  It was exciting to them that we’d travelled so far and were at the festival.  The organiser said they had a very famous English author and that we should meet them.  She asked three times, it was like the rooster in the bible.  He asked about my son and what his name was, I explained that he was called Elzeard.  Michael was the first and last person to understand his name.  It’s from The Man Who Planted Trees by Jean Giono.  We kept in touch ever since and Michael sent me the manuscript for Where My Wellies Take Me.

(3) How did you approach working on the book?

I saw that it was a story of a girl having a walk in the countryside in real time.  The poems just appeared throughout the story, so I began thinking about who put them there and why.  I thought this is a story written as a journal by the girl.  She’s chosen these poems and cut and copied them on her dad’s typewriter and stuck them in her journal to explain why they were there.  That’s how the book happened, although it probably all happened the wrong way round.

(4) Clever Crow is the winner of this year’s Carnegie Medal for illustration.  The relationship between people and nature is really fascinating.

Over the last thirty years I’ve retreated quite a lot from what might be considered normal society.  I’ve chosen to live in isolated rural places and I’ve been influenced by growing up on a smallholding, I’ve increasingly steered towards semi self-sufficiency.  We tend to think of civilisation as how far removed we have become from the land, the soil and the dirt.  But we are waking up to the fact that we’ve created an entirely unsustainable way of life.  All of the time I’m thinking about our interaction with the natural world. 

(5) You used a range of different artistic technique and media through the book.

I used collage here and there and I don’t really do anything digitally so it’s literally just how I work the paper.  I think maybe one of the differences is that I generally work on brown or ochre coloured paper which means any white areas I have to add so I work in a slightly back-to-front way.

Everybody loves old dictionary pages and the old typewritten print, so it just helped some of the themes in Clever Crow.  I enjoy when you can see the mark of the maker and the way the work is constructed. 

Thank you to Walker Books for allowing the creative freedom to embrace these techniques and approaches and for championing the roles that children’s book illustration can play.

(6) The Carnegie Medal for illustration seeks to recognise an outstanding reading experience created through illustration.  What do you think helps constitute this?

I’m not trained in illustration, but I still feel that a drawing that works as a drawing or a painting that works is going to work as an illustration.  I still don’t quite see the difference between making an artwork and creating illustration except and illustration is an artwork interpreting a bit of text by somebody else - or up until now for me it has always been by somebody else.  I approach it pretty much as making a picture as I would if there wasn’t text.  It’s still a composition and it still has to work on the page. 

(7) Your work is now added to the list of winners of the medal for illustration are there any past winners whose work you particularly admire?

Edward Ardizzone      Tim All Alone 1956

Brian Wildsmith           Brian Wildsmith’s ABC 1962

Charles Keeping           Charlotte and the Golden Canary 1967

Shaun Tan                    Tales from the Inner City 2020

Congratulations to Olivia Lomenech Gill and thank you for the opportunity for the interview.

We are honoured to welcome Laurence Anholt to the blog.  Laurence is the author and illustrator of Small Stories of Great Artists.  He was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal with The Hypnotist and has had books published in over 30 languages.  In this poignant guest blog, Laurence considers the impact personal grief has played on the creation of his own work.

When my daughter died, I thought about libraries. This is how it came about…

In the spring of 2023, life seemed easy for my wife Cathy and me. It would be hard not to find contentment on this Devon hilltop overlooking the sea. In the wildflower meadows below the house, gentle long-horned cattle graze, while our grandchildren run amongst the trees.

After 35 years as a writer and illustrator, a golden opportunity had been presented to me – I received an invitation from the legendary art publisher, Taschen to launch their children’s list. They proposed a super high-quality 336-page anthology called Small Stories of Great Artists, based on my series about great artists and the real children who knew them. What a privilege it was to collaborate with the enthusiastic and efficient editors and designers in London and Cologne.

Together we created fresh layouts, and Taschen employed their expertise in Art publishing to obtain licences for dozens of high-quality reproductions of the artists’ work. I set about creating new illustrations and writing child-friendly biographies of the artists. The book would be translated into several languages and would even have a silky ribbon bookmark, they promised me! Our aim was to create a gorgeous object for a child to handle. Something that would provide a springboard into a lifetime’s love of art.

When things are going well it’s as if we inhabit a bubble in which health and happiness will last forever. It’s easy to forget how perilously thin the skin of a bubble may be.

In her own studio Cathy was lost in her work, putting together a one-woman show of her lovely paintings in Seoul. Our grown-up children were well and happy; and best of all, our daughter Maddy and her new partner came to live just half an hour away.

Maddy was a powerhouse – a fearless standup comedian, an actor, an activist and a Women’s Aid Ambassador. When Covid thwarted her run at the Edinburgh Fringe, Maddy didn’t grumble, she sat down, reimagined the stage show as a book; found an agent; got published by Pan MacMillan.

Now pregnant with her first child, she and her partner managed to scrape together a deposit on a romantic tumble-down chapel, which they set about converting into a family home, just in time for the arrival of their first child.

When our granddaughter was born our happiness seemed complete. I have never met a child quite like her – from the very start that kid had a sense of independence and easy contentment. Basking in love, she slept well, rarely cried and laughed easily. After all, that girl is Maddy’s child.

There was only one small cloud of worry in our bubble world - Maddy began suffering from headaches, which her doctor put down to postnatal anxiety.

And then, late one night and very quietly… the bubble burst.

At home in the chapel, Maddy collapsed in the kitchen. Within an hour we were propelled into a vortex of blaring ambulances, glaring hospital corridors and CT scans. Within a fortnight, Maddy had undergone a traumatic ten-hour operation for a brain tumour. Within months, the long drive to Bristol for radio and chemotherapy had become almost routine. By the time the superb NHS consultant took us to one side and told us, with tears in her eyes that it was all over, we were burnt-out shells.

Declining the offer of a hospice bed, my wife and I brought our daughter to our home above the sea, where we created a different kind of bubble – a sanctuary of tranquillity and love.

The 13^th of September 2023 was a golden, dappled day. Through the open doors and windows, you could hear boundless birdsong, as our beloved 35-year-old daughter died in our arms.

There are no words to describe that kind of pain. In the dark days that followed it was all we could do to put one foot in front of another, let alone organise a traditional funeral. In any case, Maddy wasn’t one for Onward Christian Soldiers. Church services made her giggle.

In a moment of insight, we realised that we had a choice - we could do whatever we pleased. We decided to create something extraordinary to honour that vivacious, rebellious, compassionate, funny and beautiful woman. Huddled together in grief, we began to plan a kind of mini mid-summer festival. We would call it Maddy’s Full Moon Celebration.

The mammoth task of organising the event became a welcome distraction. Our friends rallied around. We erected a huge marquee in our fields. There would be delicious homemade food, a huge firepit and flowers everywhere. Some kind neighbours promised miniature ponies for the children. Twenty or more friendly musicians offered to play for free.

There would be speeches of course, and rashly, I promised to speak. But with the stultifying grief and the sheer effort of organising that event I prevaricated and failed to prepare, beating myself up for letting everyone down. The truth is, I was lost for words.

And then on the morning of the celebration, 22^nd June 2024, something magical happened. I woke before dawn, and discovered an odd phrase had lodged in my mind like an earworm: ‘Life is a Library.’ The words seemed meaningless and bizarre.

I dressed and wandered into the fields where a lone fox returned from a night of villainy. I spotted our resident pair of twin deer – particularly poignant as Maddy is a twin. In the half-light I entered the huge, empty marquee. Walking past bare tables I came to the shrine we had set up beside the stage. There was that magnificent photo of our girl, shining like a flame. And in my mind, I heard that stupid phrase again: ‘Life is a Library.’

The sun rose like a golden ball above the sea. Around midday, more than 200 of Maddy’s friends rocked up from far and wide. Dressed in colourful clothes, they represented every walk of life; every age; every race; every gender; united by love and tears and laughter. It was beautiful. It was sad. It was dappled.

As we assembled in the marquee, I felt anxious. Very shortly it would fall on me to speak and still I had no plan. As I clutched the microphone, I peered through my grief at these wonderful, expectant humans. I spotted Maddy’s angelic daughter, blissfully unaware on the lap of her big cousin. I glanced at the huge photo of Maddy who beamed at me. “Go on dad. Own the marquee!” she seemed to say.

Someone made a recording of my speech, and I swear those words were not mine, and that was not me talking. “Life is a library,” I began. “Everything is on loan. We don't own anything at all.

“When our children were small, I came across the famous words about parenting by Kahlil Gibran: ‘Your children are not your children, they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself’. I had always thought of that as a caution against helicopter parenting, or a platitude about letting go - like when a child takes their first steps, when they begin at school, or when they have their first relationship. What I didn't know… what I had never wanted to contemplate, was the true immensity of this concept: we literally cannot hold on to a thing. Everything must be returned in the Library of Life -our youth, our property, and all we love.”

I heard myself expound on the Buddhist teaching of Impermanence - nothing is fixed; nothing lasts except spirit. Nothing lasts except love. Everything is in a state of flux and flow and the more we try to cling on, the more we suffer. Happiness and sorrow are inseparable. Health and sickness are two sides of the same coin. Birth and death are twins. Peace comes from acceptance of the dappled quality of life.

“When Maddy left us, we were faced with the brutal reality of this fact,” I continued, “I would give anything to extend the return date on our precious girl.

“And I should acknowledge that there is nothing unusual or singular about our grief. I fully realise that we are always in the presence of people who are mourning the loss of a loved one. Death is an everyday catastrophe.

“But if nothing lasts, what is the point of it all? Well, I won't lie to you, there were moments in those early days when we felt as if we were stumbling through a dark labyrinth and life seemed utterly futile. All we can do is find a way of accommodating the pain. To make some kind of meaning of it all.

“What I am learning is that I am closer to Maddy when I'm creative; or when I'm in Nature. And here's another thing - whenever you think of Maddy, she's smiling or laughing, am I right? Hard as it is, we must relearn happiness. We're closest to her when we're with laughing with friends. That’s why I feel she's truly with us now.

“So the answer to the question, what's the point of it all if nothing is permanent? is that we are custodians. We are Life’s Librarians. All we can do is take the book home. All we can do is enjoy it as fully as we can and learn from it.

“I learnt so much from Maddy about forgiveness and tolerance and humour, and I continue to learn from her now more than ever. Life is so fleeting and unbelievably precious; all we can do is feel gratitude for what we have, and then return it graciously to the Library of Life.”

The other speeches were better than mine. My god there was some talent in that tent - young actors and comedians who sung, recited poems, told hilarious stories about crazy times with our girl. Her mum, her sister and twin brother spoke tenderly. Her younger cousins celebrated her lustrous hair, her banter, and more than anything, her kindness. Late into the night we sat around a fire as a full Strawberry Moon rose in the starry sky.

And in the coming days, when everyone had gone, and the marquee was dismantled, I went back to my studio to work on this book - Small Stories of Great Artists. Somehow the events of this year made me want to work with more love and care than I ever had before. When the bubble bursts we reevaluate. We appreciate the truly important things in life: family, friends, nature, art, books, and children… especially the children. I hope Small Stories of Great Artists brings joy to many. I’ve dedicated it to my grandchildren, ‘with a starry night of kisses.’

Heartfelt thanks to Laurence Anholt for the blog and to Dannie Price for the opportunity.

Brian Wildsmith (1930-2016) was an acclaimed, award-winning painter and illustrator.  He studied at the Slade School of Fine Art.  In 1962 he won the Kate Greenaway Medal for Illustration for Brian Wildsmith’s ABC.  In 2023, Oxford University Press, published Paws, Claws, Tails and Roars, a stunning gift book highlighting the breadth of Wildsmith’s art and introduced by former Children’s Laureate, Michael Rosen. 

A new major exhibition, The World of Brian Wildsmith, is opening in Barnsley Museums and will run from 20 April to 21 September 2024. 

In this interview, we spoke with Simon Wildsmith about his father’s work and Clare and Rebecca provided us with insights into their favourites of their father’s books.

What do you remember about your dad’s technique, and how he produced his art?

Brian’s art supplies:

• ·        Handmade paper that always had a texture to it.
• ·        Windsor and Newton gouache paints for the bulk of the painting in the illustrations.
• ·        Old plates and jam jars for water and to mix his colours on.
• ·        Holbein oil pastels, to create marks and emphasise texture.
• ·        Indian ink.
• ·        Coloured pencils & crayons

Brian sometimes applied very thick, hardly diluted white gouache paint to the paper to create texture, to which he would then apply colour once it was completely dry. Sometimes he would add sand to liquid paper glue to create different textures before adding his colours. He might then use the flat edge of a razor blade to gently scrape off some of that coloured gouache, before adding more, or use kitchen roll to dapple or his fingers to smear. He worked very freely, often saying “there are no rules” and so he would engage in whatever it took to achieve the effect he was after. All these techniques would allow the incredible variety in depth of colour and tone in say, the texture of an animal’s skin or fur, the delicacy of a bird’s feathers, the subtle consistency of foliage, the character of landscape or just the wow factor of his graphics. 

He also enjoyed using collage, painting different colours and patterns on other pieces of paper. When dry he would cut out the shapes he wanted and stick them onto the main illustration when all the base paint was dry.

He used the very best quality sable paintbrushes in a number of different sizes, depending on what he was painting. He would keep them for years, changing their purpose as they wore down and aged.

Brian would draw the main lines of his illustrations with B, 2B or 4B soft pencils, before applying his paints. Other times he just painted the illustration or part of the illustration straight on to the paper.

He always bought the very best quality paint brushes and paints, often in nearby Italy, just 50 miles away.  It was one of his great twice-yearly pleasures, to get away alone to San Remo, where he was a valued customer, not only to a great old-fashioned arts supplier, but also to a restaurant that according to him, served the best Fettuccine with cream and Parmesan sauce he had ever tasted. Brian adored his food ! We were never sure exactly what came first. Had he really run out of ‘Tyrien Rose’ or did he just have to give in to the ‘Call of the Cream ?’

Brian was obviously very influenced by the natural world – was he a keen naturalist himself, do you have a sense of where this interest arose from?

Brian was hugely inspired by the natural world. He wanted to inform his audience about the world around them, and as such studied it in immense detail. If he could paint an animal with all the colours of the rainbow and still have you convinced of its veracity, that is in part because he had studied it so closely, down to its skeletal composition. Thereafter, nature, the natural world and all that mankind has created of great beauty were central to his inspiration.

Our parents, and we as a family, travelled a lot and every outing was an excuse for research - a quick stop at the side of a French country road here, to photograph a donkey by a beautiful 18th century barn, a coffee break there, in an Italian piazza to draw its Renaissance church. Observation and research were central to feeding his art and imagination. Equally, he had a substantial library of reference books covering all manner of subjects, from his beloved Renaissance artists to ornithology or Greek architecture…

Furthermore, regarding the myriad animals that populate his books, they serve as vehicles for communication. Children love animals and have a natural affinity with them which facilitates story-telling.

In many ways, much of Brian’s work feels more prescient now than ever, what do you hope new generations of readers will take from his work?

More prescient indeed! With Professor Noah’s Spaceship, already back in 1980, Brian was sounding the alarm about pollution and the degradation of our eco-systems. But he didn’t like to preach. His work is more suggestive, visually strong, but honouring a child’s natural ability to understand the essence of quite complex paintings in a way that adults often fail to do. He once said, ’I paint what I see with my eyes and feel with my heart.’ From the tiniest of little insects feasting on flowers, to the mightiest of mammals, his art is filled with the joy of all that is best about our world – a world that is rapidly changing but with children that are fundamentally the same as they ever were.

Brian was not concerned with passing trends in art & design, nor in making books about passing societal trends or preoccupations. His number one battle was to inspire kids to believe in the ‘possible’ and to help give them what he called ‘visual literacy,’ as this would reap rewards later in life. He was preoccupied with universal themes that have been the concern of humanity for centuries.

These themes around such things as compassion, kindness, generosity, sharing and the preservation of our planet have indeed become more urgent to assimilate as time goes by.

In the introduction to ‘Paws, Claws, Tails and Roars,’ Michael Rosen  talks about Klimt and Kokoshka do you have a sense of the artists and illustrators who inspired Brian’s approach?

Brian’s first love was for the art of the early Italian Renaissance, before the more academic preoccupations of perspective interfered with that wildly imaginative creativity of artists like Giotto, Duccio, Cimabue… It was in part this connection with, and visits to the fabulous church of Saint Francis in Assisi, that led to his book of the same name in 1995.

His second love was for the later art and architecture of the Renaissance, with Raphael, Botticelli, Fra Angelico, Mantegna and Piero della Francesca being among his favourites. All the greats inspired and elevated him - Caravaggio, Leonardo, Goya, El Greco… The list is long! Moving on a few centuries to his own, he also much admired some Picasso, much Giacometti, Henry Moore, Mondrian, Dubuffet, Modigliani, Egon Schiele, Cézanne, David Hockney…

The afore-mentioned travels we embarked upon usually had destinations like Florence’s Uffizi, Milan’s Brera, the Scrovegni chapel in Padua and a multitude of other churches, cathedrals and museums dotted all over southern Europe. Brian was insatiable in his appetite for discovering as much art and architecture as possible and he wanted his children to be exposed to as many ‘miracles’ of creation as possible in a way that had not been possible in his own youth. We were very fortunate indeed.

Can you tell us about some of the process of bringing, ‘Paws, Claws, Tails and Roars’ to fruition?

Paws, Claws, Tails & Roars came about from an idea of Rebecca’s after Brian died in 2016. As an homage to his work and his dedication to OUP, she thought it would be a lovely thing to publish a gift-book with illustrations from his 1960’s trilogy, Birds, Fishes & Wild Animals. Seduced by the idea, and after much discussion about format, design and content, all the illustrations were then digitally remastered by Simon, a task he had previously undertaken to revitalise a number of other titles such as the ABC, Hunter and his Dog, Professor Noah’s Spaceship, The Bible Stories. Debbie Sims was commissioned to write the lovely new text. 

Michael Rosen would have been approached by OUP, knowing that he was a fan of Brian’s work. We were thrilled and delighted that he accepted to write such an insightful and interesting forward. 

Brian won the Kate Greenaway Medal for illustration in 1962 for Brian Wildsmith’s ABC – what did this mean to him?

Winning Britain’s most prestigious children’s books award for his very first book must have been a tremendously exciting thing indeed. What a start for an original creator! I say ‘must have been’ because Clare and Rebecca were very young when this happened and Simon and Anna weren’t yet born. I remember reading how he didn’t set out to do something revolutionary. He just wasn’t bound by convention or aware of the constraints. He just painted his subjects the way he wished, which takes us back to his painting with his heart. How clearly that shines in those remarkable illustrations! Thereafter, in later years, he never mentioned it. He had a healthy ego and assurance about his worth mixed with the modesty one meets in the truly great.

Can you tell us about the forthcoming exhibition at Barnsley and what people can expect to see and experience?

The forthcoming Barnsley exhibition means the world to us. We are immensely proud of the whole project that has taken over 2 years to plan and work out. When we talked amongst ourselves about finding a venue to show all this amazing art and illustration of our father’s that had never before been seen by the public, Barnsley just seemed the obvious choice. Aged 19, Brian had escaped a grey, sooty, polluted and poor environment where the exploitation of miners, including his own father, was rife, to emerge, 13 years later, on the international children’s books scene in a rainbow explosion of colour. Barnsley and south Yorkshire have changed beyond all recognition since then and the time is right to take that rainbow back!

Do you have a favourite book by your dad, if so what is this and why?

Rebecca - The Owl and the Woodpecker, 1971.

I can distinctly remember as a young child, watching my father paint so many of the illustrations in this book. I seemed to relate to both of these birds. A very constructive woodpecker, who tapped away at his tree every day, not caring at all that the noise he made was badly affecting the nocturnal owl, who turned up to live in the neighbouring tree and who needed to sleep all day. 

As a young child watching the illustrations evolve, I very often felt like both of them. I was always building things and I was a huge sleeper, falling asleep wherever and whenever I could!

I was fascinated with wildlife and the vibrant colours of the woodpecker grabbed my attention, having never seen a real one. I was also very taken by the woodpecker’s kindness in saving his ‘arch enemy’ at the end of the story. What culminated in making this book my favourite, was the fact that when my father gave me a copy of the newly published book, I opened it, and there on the front-end paper of the copy I still have, I read: 

For darling Rebecca, who inspected every drawing and cleaned my studio - Daddy. Publication Nov 1971. 

Then turning the page to the half title page, there in print I read: 

The Owl and the Woodpecker 

For Rebecca

What more could an eleven-year-old possibly want!

(The Owl and the Woodpecker was commended by the Kate Greenaway committee in 1971.)

Simon - Paws, Claws, Tails & Roars, 2023.

Our father dedicated all his first books to his children, as and when they were born and so the calendar would have it that I got his trilogy of Fishes, Birds and Wild Animals. Having spent countless hours last year diving into every last detail of the illustrations, in order to ready them for this new and important gift-book, I fell in love with them anew. Each painting is wildly fresh, exciting and still so modern and made with such unerring conviction. It is quite simply awe inspiring.

Clare - A Child’s Garden of Verses, 1966.

A Child’s Garden of Verses allowed me to escape into my father’s wildly vivid imagination…take a look, the illustrations are exactly as Brian wished, “images which children would react to with joy and wonder.” That’s precisely what they do to me!

A big thank you to Simon, Clare and Rebecca Wildsmith.  Do consider visiting the exhibition of Brian’s work in Barnsley if you get the chance.

We are delighted to welcome author and illustrator Padmacandra to the blog to talk about her new work and new picture book Don’t Be Silly!  A perfect book for reading aloud.  Downloadable resources are available here


Were you always interested in art?

I grew up in Scotland.  In those days it was a little bit strict, it was just an ordinary primary school.  I don’t remember school making a big deal out of art.  It was the same at secondary school but at home my imagination was always important.  I always had a sense of other worlds that you could enter.  I loved how often you get that in books.  I used to go with my younger brother on t explorations to try to find these different worlds.  I remember once thinking if I stand on my bed and turn round three times knocking on the wall, maybe a door will open.  There was a sense of a benign force which was the imagination behind things.  It wasn’t just imagination as made up.  There was some sort of reality to it.  I’ve always enjoyed doodling and making art and wanted to enter different worlds through drawing.

Did any books or illustrators that made an impact on you?

I was very lucky to have quite a lot of books.  There were four of us in the family. My mum was quite interested in children’s books.  She used to read to us which was lovely.  We had a fantastic library up in Broughty Ferry next to Dundee where I grew up. 

I remember going to visit my grandmother, she had all these old books and we were all fascinated with this one called Josie, Click and Bun by Enid Blyton.  Every year we went for two weeks in the summer holidays to the Cotswolds where my grandparents lived.  My granny was Hungarian and there was something of a mystery about her.  We would all rush and look at this book.  It was covered in children’s scribbles because our cousins had also been to visit. 

I also remember other books like the Ladybird Books and was always drawn to the more fictional rather than factual ones. I remember the Sleeping Beauty one which my friend and I used to enact.  Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone did amazing fairy tale pictures with these with wavy hair and shoes that curl around. I remember poring over the pictures and really absorbing them. 

I was very interested in George Macdonald who wrote The Princess and Curdie and At the Back of the North Wind.  There was definitely an influence from Victorian illustrators and writers.  It ties in with this sense of different worlds.  Narnia was really important too.  We were members of the Puffin Club for a while and that was wonderful.  I remember winning a poetry prize which was so encouraging and made a mark on me.  Ursula Le Guin and Brian Wildsmith and Raymond Briggs I enjoyed.  We had this book of nursery rhymes called Fee Fi Fo Fum.  There was a plum pudding in it which was just so pudding.  Me and my brother were fascinated by it  As a child you are just absorbing these things and somehow they have an influence.  Certain books come at certain times in your life.

Please can you tell us about your route to becoming an illustrator?

It’s strange because sometimes it feels like a sidestep and yet it is a complete continuity with the driving force of imagination as a more real reality.  Whenever I would be making notes for a talk, I noticed I was always doodling.  I didn’t take an art degree, I nearly did, but as I was a fairly introverted young person and wanted something that would bring me out of myself so I went into social work. It felt like I could respond to some of the suffering in the world.

I became a Buddhist when I was in my twenties.  I was always making doodles and in meditation I was taken by a benign sense of something that lay behind things.  I reached a stage where I had enough confidence through my meditation that I thought I could try this and go with it.  I went on a Summer School with Cambridge School of Art.  It was really affirming.  They said bring 500 words and then we’ll play with that.  Very quickly I wrote the text that became the story Don’t be Silly. 

I met Ness Wood who is a designer, I ended up in her little group and she said she thought children would really love this.  I felt very encouraged and went on to do the MA.  The MA focused on observational skills.  People have this idea of imagination being ungrounded, but it comes from the body and the senses.  In the same way we were observing and drawing from life and from noticing.  It’s a gateway to imagination, a grounded embodied space is what allows real imagination to come through.  We spent a whole module going round with our sketchbook.  At the end of the course, Rose Robbins who is an illustrator mentioned my work to Sarah Pakenham of Scallywag Press.  Sarah contacted me and we had a chat.  At the end of the MA I signed a two book deal with Scallywag Press, the first was The Tale of the Whale and the second is Don’t be Silly.

You were shortlisted for the Klaus Flugge Prize with The Tale of the Whale, what did that mean to you?

There are so many books published that it’s difficult when people are choosing books to know what is out there.  It’s difficult too for illustrators to feel encouraged.  Coming to illustration at a later stage in life it meant a lot to get the recognition.  It helps you to feel you can carry on.  Making picture books doesn’t make a lot of money for illustrators, they have to have lots of side-hustles to make it work.  Virtually all of the people I know who are fellow Alumni of the MA, have a secret imposter syndrome.  I find when I’ve come out with a book I’m a bit doubtful about it.  You have to say how much you love it and on one level that’s true, but you also have doubts and feel a bit unsure.  Being shortlisted really helped me recognise that it is a good book for children.

With Don’t Be Silly you both wrote and illustrated the story, what were the differences and did you have a preference?

Don’t be Silly is unusual because I’d written the text before I illustrated it.  It’s often an advantage to be able to write and illustrate together, but I don’t feel I’ve had that yet.  The Tale of the Whale was more straightforward because the words were there so it was a case of doing the thumbnails and having those approved and then doing the roughs and having those approved.  Ness Wood was the designer and she decided which spreads to put the words on which helped.  Karen Swann was talking with Janice Thomson the wonderful editor.  Don’t be Silly had been worked on for such a long time that I struggled to get objectivity, it had been through various iterations.  Martin Salisbury was very positive about it which I think is why Sarah was keen to sign it. 

I still feel that I’m working out how I want to be an illustrator and how I want to create images.  With both books I felt as though I was wrestling with things.  It never felt like a smooth process.  I don’t know whether it will ever get to that stage.  I really enjoyed working with the team, it’s a small team, but there’s a lot of experience there.  It’s lovely to think you can just get things done in a meeting without going through lots of departments. 

There are lots of details to explore in your illustrations were you conscious of creating something exploratory?

I did want it to be very rich.  Initially I wanted a baroque feel because of the castle.  I don’t know how much that was achieved.  I was influenced a bit by Ronald Searle with the castles, and characters with big noses.  We used to get annuals when I was young and you’d really pore over the pictures.  I wanted that feel.  The secondary characters like the cat and the mice, fulfil an important function by indicating an extra layer of what the book is saying.  There’s one of the pictures where the children are running into the characters, but the cat is looking worried because it can see the football and what might be about to happen.  The mice that are doing all the antics are communicating the playfulness of the children and an anarchic atmosphere.  In a way they just come out as a natural thing.  We did add the hens, it was partly the editor’s ideas as she is very keen on hens! 

Were there any characters you particularly enjoyed illustrating and writing about?

I drew Bo and Smudge so often, I really got a feeling for them.  I enjoyed the cat too!  I really enjoyed doing all the portraits and looking at portraits in galleries and on the internet.  There’s often a pompousness in how and what they are trying to communicate about themselves.  A lot of the art is quite pressured in some ways, but this was just fun.  There is a secret hidden in one of the paintings which echoes something that happens later on in the book!

Bo and Smudge try on some of the adult outfits, it feels a bit of a metaphor for how we try on it different guises throughout life…?

I remember being on a retreat and watching lambs jump and I wondered why the sheep weren’t and what had happened.  You rarely see an adult running o skipping along the street.  Sometimes I’ve gone jogging and feel I have to put a uniform on to show I’m not just running about, but am jogging.  The whole thing is about the importance of the spontaneity of playfulness.  The things that we put on in life, the children are putting them on in a playful way.  It’s like being able to see things through different perspectives.  It’s important to do that creatively as well.  One creative writing idea from Natalie Goldberg who writes about creative writing is to put a funny hat on or adopt a different posture to place yourself in a different point.  If we over identify with what we wear – like the judge who wears his outfit – we get stuck.  There’s something essential about me which is not about the clothes that I wear, the age that I am, what I’m saying to you at the moment.  There’s a freedom about this and a playfulness in this.

Does Buddhism influence your work?

In my best moments yet, but it also gives me perspective in my less good moments.  Most creators experience an emotion when they are starting to create.  You start by making a lot more mess and there’s a voice that comes in that says this isn’t going very well, you can’t do what you did before.  It’s not even words like that, it’s just a mood.  It’s really got nothing to do with the creative process, we have to try to let go of these ideas and let the pen and the paper get on and happen in the moment.  Being able to be creative consistently is about recognising the stories and doing it anyway.  Playfulness is such an important part of this.  Being on the MA gave a space and an opportunity to experiment.  It’s a bit like improvisation.  If we can live our lives in that way, it’s a much more resourceful way of being in the world.  We’re now living in a world that feels particularly precarious.  You might say we need to be very serious in the moment, but I think there’s a much better outcome if we can adopt a playfulness and a lightness to give perspective.  I don’t mean laughing at serious things, but being more spontaneous so as to open up possibilities.

Do we take funny books seriously enough?

I have noticed that there’s a lot of stories which have a message and for bloggers and that sort of thing it’s much easier for them to talk about that, not necessarily in a bad way, and for that to be a good thing.  It’s more difficult to talk about Don’t be Silly because there’s more of an experience through the rhyming rhythm and images.  Playfulness is important and we mustn’t lose that and be doom-scrolling and serious the whole time so that becomes the only influence on ourselves, on children and on all of us.  There’s a bigger perspective that can come through playfulness and joy!

What is next for you?

I don’t know what’s coming next.  I would love to do something about poetry and particularly about the approach you need to write a poem.  When I was at school, I was very invisible and shy and disappeared into myself.  There were moments though when things woke me up a little bit.  We had a visiting person in RE and they did a whole lesson on haiku, and something awoke within me.  I love the Chinese and Japanese poets.  They have certain words for certain aesthetics.  I’d like to bring a sense of atmosphere and magic to books, which I suppose brings us back to the idea of other worlds!

Thank you to Padmacandra for the interview and to Scallywag Press for the brilliant opportunity.