Bean exercising with TobyFlirting with Coco
Friday, June 20, 2008
Monday, June 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Babette and Friends' Lullaby
May doves sprinkle sleeping dust
May butterflies fly and thrust
May the moon keep her shiny bust
May you grow an inch in a gust
Good night good night you little prust!
Babette'sLullaby&Collage©2010Babetteandfriends
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
Henri and Henrietta
HenriandHenriettaIllustration@2010Babetteandfriends
A new story is coming soon to Tales. Keep an eye out!
I love visualizing my characters as they begin to take shape—sketching the fairy tale, making collages, and wandering around inside the story before it fully exists. I almost never illustrate after writing. I work the other way around.
Usually, a story pops into my head, and as I tell it to myself, I start drawing and making collages. More often than not, the story changes completely along the way—and usually for the better. Sometimes the story disappears altogether, and all that survives is a lovely collage.
And occasionally, in a rare act of mercy toward humanity, I throw the whole thing into the garbage.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Babette's friend Mr. Donkey
Who has bunny ears and doe eyes and big doggie nose and horse's shoes ?
Mr. DONKEY, of course!
Globally a most abused, invisible sweet animal.
Read our story in TALES.
" We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals."
Immanuel Kant
Thursday, January 6, 2005
How we met Babette
Well, on that particular post-9/11 day, New York City smelled of soot and despair. I was far too early for an appointment and decided that the pet store could not possibly smell worse than the streets outside.
I wandered around aimlessly for a while until I noticed a tiny black-and-white dog. There she was: bloody paws scraping against metal grates, spinning in frantic circles, barking inside a cage so small it looked designed for a toaster oven rather than a living creature. A crude price tag dangled from the bars.
I was furious. Clearly, I had to save her.
Growing up, I was forever dragging home stray cats and dogs—there were plenty roaming the streets of 1970s Istanbul—only to hear: “There are people in need! Animals don’t belong in houses. They’re dangerous flea bags!”
That was simply the norm back then. Dogs were either guard dogs or semi-wild creatures patrolling the streets like tiny furry gangs. I was fascinated by them—their freedom, their unruly independence. Much more interesting than people, frankly. I was also slightly terrified of them, which probably added to the appeal. They lingered outside our house, outside butcher shops, outside bakeries, as though they had nowhere urgent to be and all the time in the world.
Loving another creature is no small undertaking to begin with. Then try doing it with what is essentially a tiny alien who requires twenty-four-hour room service, round-the-clock bathroom assistance, endless training, and fluency in an entirely new woof-based language.
But unlike human babies, dogs do not grow up, move away, and later annoy you with millennial opinions. Betrayal, malice, and meanness are foreign concepts to them. They dwell almost exclusively in the kingdoms of Love and Treats. And as we all know what a drug is Love and we were hooked!
Their quiet presence is a balm. They make the medicine go down—just as Mary Poppins promised.
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