Fans pick 65 books like Revealing Illustrations

British illustrator Patrick Woodroffe was an eclectic virtuoso, working with equal facility in oils, acrylic, pencil, pen and ink, silverpoint, and a unique technique of his own involving cutout drawings photographed in natural settings. Like McMullan’s, this book gives you a practical look inside one artist’s creative process. One remark of Woodroffe’s helped set me free artistically: “I don’t think strict accuracy is important, for if art is to offer us anything at all that is not to be found ‘out there’ or in photographs, then it can only come from those fortunate instances when the artist sees something not quite straight, when his visual memory fails him just a little. Getting it at least slightly wrong is I believe what art is all about.”

Gary Faigin is the guy I took my first and only perspective class from, back when he was teaching at the New York Academy of Arts. Eventually we became friends, and fortunately for me he never wrote a book on perspective. Instead, Gary channeled his considerable knowledge of anatomy and drawing into the indispensable book on facial expressions. In profusely illustrated chapters, Gary breaks down the daunting complexity of facial expressions into six basics: joy, anger, sadness, disgust, fear, and surprise. Like the primary colors, this basic palette yields the full spectrum of extreme to subtle, in-between, and mixed expressions. 

Legendary artist and printmaker M.C. Escher wrote very little about his working method, but fortunately, he gave writer and longtime friend Bruno Ernst full access to his creative process. Ernst does a superb job unpacking the reasoning and revealing the secrets of this always logical but sometimes opaque master. After I read Ernst's chapter explaining the cylindrical perspective in Escher’s classic prints "House of Stairs" and "High And Low", I went right to work drawing my own cylindrical grid, which eventually appeared in my second instructional book Extreme Perspective!

I owe Francis D.K. Ching big time. What I learned about perspective in art school served me well enough during my first few years as a working illustrator, but there came a time when I faced a perspective problem beyond my experience on deadline, and I needed to pick up new skills fast. I knew the neighbor in the next apartment over was a graphic designer, so I knocked on her door to ask if she had any books on perspective, and this is what she had on the shelf. The perspective section is only a small part of this elegantly drawn and hand-lettered book, but the information in it was enough to solve my immediate problem and set me to exploring perspective on my own (and some thirty years later, I found my neighbor again on LinkedIn and returned her copy).

I first encountered this book many years before I began my own.

It accompanied a marvelous exhibit launched by the Philadelphia Museum of Art which, sadly, I did not see in person. Arranged by decade, the body of the book features individual products from the 1950s to the 1990s.

This reveals the overlap between different design disciplines and the cross-fertilization of ideas. I love the large photos which pull you in and make you want to read the texts. The supporting essays were contributed by many of the most important design luminaries at work in Japan.

By the time I was working on my book, many of them were already gone. 

A relatively small, informal book filled with advice on how to keep having great ideas and how to survive in the creative business. Valuable even in you only pick up for a minute.

For many years, Brower was the art director at PRINT magazine and before that at esteemed book publishing houses. He is a brilliant art director and book designer, and we were co-authors a while back. In this book, Brower explores what art directors do in a design studio vs. a corporation, how the role is different than being a graphic designer and much more. Great interviews with pros are included are well. I admire Brower's award-winning cover and interior design of his book.

The latest in a series featuring an engaging New York City ballerina/amateur sleuth.

On hiatus from Lincoln Center while her ballet company is on tour, Leah goes undercover as a dancer on Broadway to keep her eyes open for clues into who is harassing the show’s leading lady online. It starts simply enough until murder enters the picture.

I loved the quirky backstage energy, the interplay between the colorful cast of characters, and the many absorbing plot twists. It’s easy to applaud as Leah keeps investigating despite mounting personal danger as well as the anxiety it causes in her romance with the appealing detective on the case.

Coraline and her very preoccupied parents move into their new house. They seem to have very little time for her. While exploring the house, she finds a little door that takes her to another house. One that is exactly the same but different. Her “other” parents are doting on her, and aside from the fact that they have terrifying buttons for eyes, they seem to love and need her around. 

This is the graphic novel version of the creepy story that captivated so many kids by Neil Gaiman and the first visualization of the story before it was animated. I have always loved this version illustrated by P. Craig Russell.

Gone Girl started the domestic suspense trend and showed us that suspense can be driven by family/household dynamics. Louise Candlish takes this to another level in Our House when the main character comes home to find another family moving into her house. She soon discovers that her husband has sold the house from under her feet and disappeared. This is a fantastic, slow-burn literary thriller with a great ending.