Fresh-Faced First Editions

‘First Term at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1946; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd

I can’t remember how old I was the first time I read Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers books, but I do recall how I loved them. My hopes were dashed too when one of my older sisters explained that this was a fictional school (and on another continent besides). 

Stumbling upon The Enid Blyton Society, I was delighted to find scans of covers of the first and second editions. I love the style of these 50s and 60s illustrations: they look just so fresh and innocent, with a colour palette typical of the era. They're perfect for depicting the adventures of these young English schoolgirls. 

‘The Second Form at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1947; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd‘Third Year at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1948; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd

they look just so fresh and innocent, with a colour palette typical of the [50s and 60s] era

They make me feel so nostalgic, not, ahem, because I am so old, but because I was so young when I first read them, possibly even before I started high school myself. I love the smell and feel of old books like these, they remind me of childhood summers when I ran around barefoot, of warm, scented breezes and the thrill of holidays yawning ahead of me, with so much time to devour books. 

‘Upper Fourth at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1949; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd‘In the Fifth at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1950; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd

The illustrator’s name was Stanley Lloyd, and he created the covers for all the first editions of the Malory Towers series, although he was also active in the field of pony book illustration – not a genre I was ever interested in when I was a child. He began his career illustrating for magazines, and wrote two books himself, but it is these particular illustrations for Enid Blyton for which he is most well-known. If you have a spare few hundred dollars you can even buy a first edition on Abebooks.

‘Last Term at Malory Towers’, by Enid Blyton, 1951; cover illustration by Stanley Lloyd

Papîer Machédventure (Part II)

Ha! My little man mask gets a goatee. I think he is going to be Chinese..Two weeks in, the masks Sapphire and I have made are ready to be built up. After research, we decide to make the pulp from tissue paper, as it is supposed to give a similar effect as porcelain clay. The recipe we have calls for a number of obscure ingredients we can’t find, but we shrug philosophically and make do.

As well as making use of the tissue paper from retail purchases, I buy an additional ten packets of white tissue paper. Interestingly, the recycled tissue store-bought items had been wrapped in is much easier to rip into pieces.

We put the paper and water on to cook for a couple of hours, and pass the time pleasantly drinking coffee, eating cakes and chatting.

the recycled tissue … is much easier to rip into pieces

Our paper pulp resembles nothing so much as a large mound of pea-shooter ammoFinally we grow bored of this occupation and decide to get to work, despite the fact the tissue has not broken down enough. The pulp resembles those chewed bits of paper teenage boys like to flick through drinking straws at one another. The result is definitely not like clay, but we persevere and mould the masks' faces. Doubtfully we eye our handiwork and decide to leave them to dry, hoping that once dry, their appearance would improve.

The pulp resembles those chewed bits of paper teenage boys like to flick through drinking straws at one another

Unfortunately, it does not. In fact, my masks develop an interesting case of mould, and I spray them heavily with Exit-Mould, which seems to put a stop to the unpleasantness. The masks still look like mutants though, and I decide they need a decent coating of strips of tissue paper before they can be primed prior to painting. But that will have to wait for my return from my gallivanting. 

Trimmed of its square corners, the mask has a better shape. I pick off the bee-stung lips I'd given this lass after having another look at the Russian mask that originally inspired this project. Its lips are painted on.

Happy June

‘Autumn Forecast’, by Eduardo Benito, for British Vogue, July 1929Here’s a bright and happy picture to wish in June. It’s winter in Melbourne, but I am ringing in the month in sunny Barcelona, and will be hopping on a plane to Lisbon, Portugal in two days’ time. Not that I’m trying to make anyone jealous or anything.

This classically Art-Deco illustration ‘Autumn Forecast’, was created for British Vogue’s cover of July 1929 by Eduardo Benito. His style was distinctive, and very simple and minimalist even for an era famed for its streamlined style. His colour palette here is particularly bold and summery.

When I bought this calendar and first flipped through the pages to see this image, I was immediately reminded of another Vogue image from, I think, the 1990s. Benito’s illustration is recreated out of sorbet, strawberries and orange zest.

For British Vogue; photographer/stylist Tessa Traeger (?)My tearsheet does not credit the image, but if I remember correctly, the photographer is Tessa Traeger. (An exhaustive search of her website failed to turn up this image however, although there are many others like it, where food is used to create an illustration.) How amazing!

Now go have a gelato or something.

Daily Doings

Today is the day! Off I go, hooray! Off to Spain, Portugal and Morocco. My accountant suggested I keep a travel diary of all my creative doings, and my receipts of course, so that I can make a tax claim next year.

So earlier this week I had a little shop in Handworks, and browsed through the myriad of diary options. I finally found this cute little travel diary by O-Check Design Graphics. I was very pleased to see it was also made from recycled paper and printed with soy inks. It’s full of a variety of papers, mostly off-white, but some coloured sheets, some with ruled lines, some with checks. Some of the pages are printed with quaint travel graphics, such as stamps, vintage postcards, stripey airmail envelopes.

One of the stamps is actually marked Lisbon, Portugal. As soon as I flipped to that page and saw that, I knew this diary was the one for me. It also has handy pockets interspersed throughout the book, so I can fill them with all the receipts and museum stubs I collect. I even bought a little roll of polka-dotted masking tape, so I can stick in all the ephemera of my trip.

This will be a scribble-type of journal; I also bought a cute little book with ruled red lines in which I can write up and sign my official record of daily activities. Adiós!

Although I will be overseas for a month, keep checking back at the Sketchbook, because the posts will keep on coming.

Extreme Closeup

Doll-face :: Watts // Ina’s 1969 // No flash :: Extreme closeup, shot with a macro lens, from a distance of one inch. I was sooo excited when I arrived home tonight from work and found a package from Hong Kong in my letterbox!

Inside it was a magical wide-angle and macro lens that can be fitted onto my iPhone. I had first read about this miraculous tool on the Hipstamatic page on Facebook. Someone had posted about these lenses available from Photojojo, but I dithered too long and by the time I went to buy a set, they were out of stock.

Matryoshka :: Watts // Ina’s 1969 // No flash :: Shot with the wide-angle lens. The curve of the iPhone 3Gs means the lens cannot sit flat on the back, which causes the black curve in the bottom right corner – a small price to pay.Undaunted I investigated eBay, and found a seller in Hong Kong touting the same product, and by extraordinary luck it was only $12. (A huge savings compared to the $70 I was going to pay for the two lens Photojojo set, including postage.) Hong Kong, I thought, isn’t so far from Australia. Perhaps they can send it to me in time before I head off overseas? I didn’t even dare to email them to check, but bought and paid in an instant, and crossed my fingers, trusting fate. All week I waited with bated breath, and hardly dared to hope when I arrived home today that it had landed in my letterbox – it’s the last day before my trip.

I was so excited that I ripped open the package, attached the lens by means of Blu-Tack as there did not seem to be any other way, and began experimenting.

Belatedly, I unfolded the badly translated instructions and discovered that I needed to stick a metallic ring to the back of the phone, which I did, and Bob’s your uncle: the lens cleverly attaches to the magnetic ring!

Oh, and it takes brilliant photos too.