Tag Archives: invisible portraits
Oh this book! And oh those Shrimptons!
“The Shrimptons hated to be missed.” But in the very first glimpse we get of the family, one member is tucked behind, blending in. Maude. Maude Shrimpton.
Mrs. Shrimpton had her flamboyant hats, Mr. Shrimpton his twirly mustache. Penelope was beautiful, Hector was a fabulous tap dancer. Constance was a singer, and Wardo was quite the comedian. Maude, she was not so noticeable.
Which makes it so fun to try and find her on every page! (See her there, peeking out from her dress-matching curtains?)
“No matter what she wore, Maude just seemed to merge, to fade, to disappear.”
This book has such style. Even (especially?) Maude, that blender-inner. Which in a funny, quirky turn is sometimes a very good trait. (Hint: when a tiger is looking for dinner in your house.)
Here’s a little peek at the illustrator’s mood board for the project, full of fashion and flair:
Thanks to Trisha Krauss for the images!
/ / / / / /
There’s something cinematic about this book and might I suggest a bit Wes Andersonesque.
Maude and the Shrimptons are so perfectly stylized, like Anderson’s films (which are fairly bookish themselves). As a family, they’re so wacky and flamboyant, as Anderson’s fictional families are. Plus, the impeccably executed settings. The straight-at-you gazes of the characters. And oh the costumes, of course!
From Moonrise Kingdom.
From The Royal Tenenbaums.
From Fantastic Mr. Fox.
But now let’s get to BLENDING IN. And we’ll start with the well-known wallpaper/shirt scene from Garden State.
From the film, Garden State.
From the film, Marie Antoinette. That dress fabric appears to be cut from the same cloth as the wallpaper, right?
From twenty-seven names, photographs by Guy Coombs.
The next batch are really tricky to see. Exquisite camouflage.
From artist Cecilia Parades’s painting series.