Lewis, himself a master of tales, captures something of the essence of what makes The Wind in the Willows such a loved text since its first publication in 1908 . An illustrator’s dream, it has been visualised by many over the years. Scholar Annie Gauger spent over 10 years researching the text and illustrations, including Oxford’s Bodleian library collection, to compile this wonderful annotated edition.

Curiously the question of anthropomorphising the main four characters, or of leaving them to their ‘natural’ animal attire, has had various treatments over the years. Kenneth Graham seems to have pictured them in their natural state, though the more recent the illustrations the more complex the ‘humanisation’ seems to be. Gauger’s edition is a must read for all who love the classic tale and it’s characters, delving into the text in such detail with personal, historical, and illustrative anecdotes. Having spent many a day rambling around Oxford’s canal and river banks it is delightful to think that Graham too was thinking of these places when writing the letters to his son ‘the Mouse’. Letters, which were to form the text of this great children’s classic with which I never tire. The illustrations below are by  self taught American illustrator Paul Bransom; the first to fully illustrate the text. They were reproduced using chromolithography in the 1913 edition, published by Scribners.

One of the most quoted books of all time it is full of delicious character moments such as these:

“All was a-shake and a-shiver—glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.”

…“There is nothing — absolutely nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not.”

…`Glorious, stirring sight!’ murmured Toad, never offering to move. `The poetry of motion! The real way to travel! The only way to travel! Here to-day–in next week to-morrow! Villages skipped, towns and cities jumped–always somebody else’s horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O my!’

…’What are you always nagging at Toad for?’ inquired the Badger, rather peevishly. ‘What’s the matter with his English? It’s the same what I use myself, and if it’s good enough for me, it ought to be good enough for you!’

‘I’m very sorry,’ said the Rat humbly. ‘Only I think it ought to be “teach ‘em,” not “learn ‘em.”‘

‘But we don’t want to teach ‘em,’ replied the Badger. ‘We want tolearn ’em— learn ‘em, learn ‘em! And what’s more, we’re going to doit, too!’

Here you will find a gorgeous array of lyrical work splashing out from all angles by illustrator Mari Kanstad Johnsen. Her studio is full of a curious naive and sophisticated visual poetry straight from the heart of Norway. I love the bears peaking out of mountains in her Illustration for Norwegian outdoors-magazine Norrøna Magazine. As to the Manhattan girls; it’s just genius in a jovial brush or three.

The Illustrations for the childrensbook “Barbie-Nils og Pistolproblemet” (Barbie-Nils and the Problem with the Gun), written by Kari Tinnen, published by Gyldendal will make you want to go out tomorrow and learn Norwegian. And if you first pick up the childrensbook VIVALDI, written by Helge Torvund, published by MAGIKON the images are equally and whimsically poignant.

Coates’ latest collection delves into bones and limbs, joints that connect and form skeletal frameworks that sustain weight. In his drawings of the connecting structures one can see at the heart a reference to the human form and life drawing. I asked Coates’ if this was the case and he confirmed that the genesis of this idea had come from thinking about the body’s supporting structures and one stool in particular that had started the ball rolling. Coates showed me his ‘Genie Stool’, with three limbs and the cradle of what seemed to be wood crafted pelvic bones. It reminded me of the primitive African stools that I grew up with. These had been three-stick structures, held together by a leather pouch. The seat cradled the sitter quite naturally, the posture falling into a crouching stance. The result is quite a comfortable structure to rest in.

Each piece was formed in collaboration with Italian company Poltronova. Coates’ short film beautifully outlines the design process with Poltronova and the drawings that worked through the idea.The images here are of the ‘Domo’ pieces which feature sandblasted and sculpted oak. The Plasma chair is an indoor/outdoor piece of steel and leather. More information is available via his studio. All images are ©Nigel Coates Studio.

This year has seen a long fixation with shells; not a new one for me, as I’ve had shell collections since I can remember. In primary school I had emptied all my clothes out of dresser drawers for the purposes of turning that particular piece of furniture into a petit musée. It was a vast shell collection and needed to be properly cataloged and displayed. It had been largely amassed whilst traipsing along coastlines in and around Sydney, and the waters of Lake Macquarie.

“He painted animals in their natural habitats, considered their points of view and revealed their moods and behaviors–allowing the viewer to glimpse the reality of [their] everyday lives.”

Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave ‘S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ wast,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald.
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

to a mouse; copperplate etching © Rebecca Johnstone