Les Ateliers. De l’illustration et de la création [The Studios. About Illustration and the Creative Process] by Delphine Perret (review)

What do the places where art is created look like? What does an artist’s workshop reveal about its user and about their artistic creative process?

The French illustrator Delphine Perret has long been interested in the subject of artists‘ studios, in the special magic and mystery of these places, which reflect and reveal in the smallest details the strong bond that exists between artists and this place. After Perret met the photographer Éric Garault (who works for the Centre de Promotion du livre jeunesse and the Salon de Montreuil, among others, and is therefore particularly close to illustrators and authors of children’s and young people’s books), her idea to create a book about illustrators’ studios took on a more concrete form. Over a four-year period, the two visited together twenty-four well-known francophone illustrators—twelve women, twelve men. They included Kitty Crowther, Béatrice Alemagna, Gilles Bachelet, Martin Jarrie, Anne Brouil-lard, Joëlle Jolivet, Adrien Parlange, Magali le Huche, Gaëtan Doremus, Rebecca Dautremer, and Bruno Heitz, among others.

Perret developed her conversations on the basis of a catalog of questions, but was able to leave this basic framework as quickly as possible in order to find “the hidden door“ that leads to the distinctive and unique nature of the interlocutor(s). They often talk about the creative process and its fragility, its susceptibility to disturbance: When and how does an idea arise? Can it be triggered or is it better to put oneself in an intentionless state? Do ideas just emerge when you are not paying attention to them?

All the illustrators interviewed saw the need to have their own protected place to dream undisturbed, to be surprised, to be excited, but also to overcome blockages. The illustrators sharing studio space also dream of a “room of one’s own.”

Another important topic of conversation is the relationship to time: enduring the tension of freeing oneself from external constraints (such as time) in the creative process and at the same time being constantly under the pressure of deadlines.

Many conversations deal with the great expectations and hopes associated with book projects and the fear that the gap between aspirations and achievements is too great. How does one deal with failure?

In conversation, Perret and her interviewees shed light on the surroundings they need to ignite the “divine spark“ within themselves, to find a good idea, to decide on a book project. Are there any tricks of the trade? How do you get rid of daily routines to better go with the flow of the unforeseen and the unplannable?

Sometimes, creative work is preceded by everyday rituals or “little escapes” into the outside world. Interestingly, some illustrators report that before they begin their work in the studio, they consciously go “outside” in the morning: to a café, to public transportation, in order to make some initial, quick sketches there, to get in the mood. Or simply to observe and be “among people” for a short time before going into their working capsule, nest, or shelter—that is, their studio.

During the hour-long conversation of Perret and their hosts, Éric Garault visited—very discreetly—their studios. The photographer paid special attention to the beauty, the bizarre, that hovers in the details of daily life. He then took a portrait photo of the host. With the help of mirror effects, superimpositions, and irides-cent imperfections, he created mysterious, complex images.

Through Garault‘s photographs, readers unwittingly find themselves in the role of visitors to an intimate space and discover very different types of studios. On the one hand is the densely populated space, filled with many tools, objects, and works (including those of other artists), which functions like a kind of enclosure...