Bit of a shorter article this one is—it’s been a bit since I’ve made this design, and I cannot find my notes on my design rationale.

Quick side note: this script has the most unique stage direction I’ve ever seen. “Orange slice in mouth.” As in the line is intended to be delivered with an orange slice in the mouth. I love how unique, unusual, and specific this stage direction is. It makes sense within the context of the show.

For this design, my director wanted to emphasise the idea of interpersonal turbulence and circles, both as a symbol of unity and to emulate the circles that the team stands, stretches, and converses in. My planning for the design is featured below:

The black version of the title font seen here was intended as a mere concept; however, it became the final version of the title font. It was perfectly rough and imperfect, a written representation of the turbulent interpersonal bonds explored in The Wolves. It also is intended to appear “feral” to tie into the literal concept of wolves, though The Wolves is a play deprived of actual wolves.

While this was initially conceptualised as a poster, it eventually evolved into a shirt design, as they already had a poster. However, here’s the rough version of the poster, done with graphite and digital watercolours.

From a shirt design approach, I drew inspiration from the appearance of scholastic sports teams logos. They generally have a “stylised animal in the middle of an aggressive action.”

It’s striking, eye-catching, is it not? The team name and the inclusion of circles lent itself well to this thought process. However, I was limited to five colours, as per the specifications for the shirt printing process. In the end, we settled on a black and white logo, with green as the accent to represent the field upon which football is played. Both the logo and the graphic are pictured below:

The ink circle and logo were made by scanning traditional drawings, while the wolf head was added digitally. Principle of design: the logo is slightly askew to indicate turbulence and instability. Because this is what we think of when we see diagonals. The concept of instability also ties into the messy appearance of the ink circle, made by dry brushing a circle in ink. I recall having to do three different circles before finding one that satisfied me.

The rest of the graphic was simple. The wolf with the ink circle formed a frame for a separate scene. I took the figures from the graphic and placed them into a circle within the logic of the scene. Essentially, I inserted a ring of people as viewed from a hypothetical camera. I also added grass using a digital dry brush.

No minor “intellectual details” for this one—as my second time doing “theatrical illustration,” this was before I solidified this tendency. The closest equivalent is the inspiration from sports team mascots and logos, as detailed previously. A minor detail: some figures spill onto the ink circle. To continue with the visual motion of the design, the figures’ feet create a sort of white “motion blur” within the black ink.

In hindsight, I could have done better—I probably could have blended the wolf head into the ink circle more fluidly. Or I could have tried to solidify the proportion of a football to that of a human. However, hindsight is 20/20, and I certainly don’t have 20/20 vision. Also digital was (and still is) relatively foreign to me—it is not my forte. For what it’s worth, this was a successful design.

There’s no graceful way to end this article, so to close, here’s a picture of a person with an orange slice in the mouth. This was actually so difficult to find—free photos of “people with an orange slice smile” are rare.

Scene 1: Mrs. Shears, who lives at No.39, opens her door 7 minutes after midnight to see Christopher with the corpse of Wellington.

Scene 1: A policeman arrives 12 and a half minutes after Mrs. Shears phones them. He has a big orange leaf stuck to the bottom of his shoe, which is poking out of one side.

Scene 3: When Ed (Christopher’s father) comes to the police station after Christopher is arrested, he and Christopher touch hands in a display of affection.

Scene 4: Christopher, after seeing his father, reports that he could see the Milky Way en route to town centre.

Scene 7: Ed Boone keeps a secret key underneath a flowerpot outside the kitchen window. Christopher uses this to gain entry into the house.

Scene 8: Christopher explains who Wellington was to Siobhan. This image was based on the initial sketch of the Wellington plush shown previously (that paid off in dividends, now hasn’t it?). The flowers behind him are forget-me-nots.

Scene 11: Christopher dismisses the possibility of heaven being on the other side of a black hole. Fact: this was actually the first of these images created.

Scene 12: Christopher meets Mr. Thompson. This is one of two drawings wherein I am portrayed as Christopher.

Scene 12: Mrs. Alexander offers cookies to Christopher. While Christopher initially accepts, he ultimately leaves before she returns, forcing her to eat them alone.

Scene 16: Christopher posits the possibility of bringing Toby into space. Reappearance of Cosmonaut Toby.

Scene 21: Christopher recalls Judy (his mother) daydreaming about living in France in a small farmhouse with a field of sunflowers.

Scene 23: While searching for his book, Christopher finds letters addressed to him, with circles as tittles on “Christopher” and “Swindon.”

Scene 26: Christopher builds a model train set as Judy details her reasons for leaving.

Scene 27: One person Christopher could run away to is Uncle Terry in Sunderland, who Christopher rejects because he smokes cigarettes. This one was the most difficult piece to make—watercolour’s transparency made it difficult to render the fire in the darkness.

Scene 28: Siobhan posits making Christopher’s book into a play, which he refuses because he doesn’t like acting. Pictured: Christopher and the understudy, both acting as Christopher. The main actor really liked Spider-Man, so this image pays homage to the Spider-Man pointing meme.

Scene 34a: In a dream, Christopher recounts the things he sees. He sees cows in a field.

Scene 34a: In the same dream, Christopher recounts the things he sees. Amongst the grass, there is a squashed Coca-Cola can with a snail on it.

Scene 35: Finally in London, announcements play in the station, forming a cacophony of noise. One such announcement: Paddington Bear at Paddington Station.

Scene 36: Toby escapes and is running rogue on the tracks. Christopher sees this and retrieves him, all while a train approaches.

Scene 44: Christopher wanders around London and explains that some stars in the sky don’t actually exist anymore due to the distance their light has to travel. They are red dwarfs.

Scene 45: Judy buys Christopher a strawberry iced lolly in Hampstead Heath. He doesn’t actually end up consuming it.

Scene 46: Roger (Mr. Shears) buys Christopher a radio to tinker with.

Scene 52: Siobhan meets with a very sleep-deprived Christopher shortly before his A-Level Maths exam. In the background is a black hole.

Scene 57: Christopher informs Siobhan of his new life. Slowly, he and Ed are making reparations. One such way is through the vegetable patch Ed planted in his garden.

Scene 57: While Ed and Christopher planted the garden, Christopher’s dog Sandy watched. This one was for the director—her dog, Luna, played Sandy in the show.

The next illustrations depicted locations pertinent to the show.

This one depicts the streets of Swindon, where Christopher lives.

This one depicts Polperro Beach, from the line: “I remember the 20th of July, 2008. I was 9 years old. It was a Sunday. We were on holiday in Cornwall. We were on a beach in a place called Polperro.” Oi, wait… today’s the 20th of July…

This one depicts the Swindon station, the transition point from the familiar to the unfamiliar. The “stripy building with the horizontal windows” is the feature mentioned in the play.

This one depicts a train of the London Underground, rendered in a style reminiscent of urban sketches.

The penultimate image depicts the streets of London at night. I wanted to create a scene similar to long-exposure photos, with streaks of light created by passing cars.

The final image was what I imagined Christopher to be like if he was drawn as a Beatrix Potter-style animal, complete with the Milky Way overhead.

One final note is on the depiction of Toby in these images.

There’s a story as to why he looks the way he does. I had been unable to sleep one night, so I spontaneously learned how to needle felt. That night, I created Toby, which was used in our show. And ever since that fateful night, I have never needle felted.

I do sometimes wonder what happened to all of these small watercolour paintings. How many people have kept them? How many have been lost? Perhaps I’ll never know. Correction: I know of the status of exactly one of them—approximately 3.23% of them.

And that is how I did the art of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

A detective board.

With this in mind, I rushed (within the speed limit) home, desperate to keep this idea in my head before it vanished. To my delight, it stayed, and I only needed one sketch to finalise my concept.

Holy illegible, innit?

With the concept existing, I was able to begin production nearly immediately. The first component was the central picture of Wellington, which I intended to resemble a graphite police sketch. I wasn’t particularly skilled in digital art, so I elected to make an actual graphite drawing and scan it. This was the graphite police sketch:

Fact: this would have been impossible had I not idly doodled the Wellington plush previously. Ergo, this depiction of Wellington was entirely based on a random doodle of a dog that didn’t even exist.

I mean yes, in retrospect, I could’ve just asked for a photograph of the plush, but I simply neglected to think of it at the time!

Back on-topic. The scan of the aforementioned image was used as the basis for the following design.

Mathematically-minded viewers will notice one thing.

THE PYTHAGOREAN THEOREM BREAKDOWN. IS. WRONG.

And this is the version that we used for pretty much everything. Shoddy math and everything.

Give me a break though—I was an illustrator, not a maths person. I can do probability and permutations, not basic geometry.

Three years later, I did go back and fix the Pythagorean Theorem though. And there was much (read: no) rejoicing.

My distinct inability to do maths aside, here are the details behind this image. Warning: incoming Maths Appendix monologue. Lock on and buckle up, because this one’s a proper essay.

• Starting at the top, the operative words (any word that isn’t a preposition or a determiner: “Curious,” “Incident,” “Dog,” and “Night-Time”) in the title have occasional lowercase letters. The lowercase letters are not random—they are letters used in mathematics.

  • i is the imaginary number, a representation of the square root of -1.

  • e is Euler’s constant, used as the base for natural logarithms.

  • n is a common mathematical variable.

• Anti-clockwise, the first paper underneath the title just says “Who killed Wellington?,” the crux of the first part of the play.

• On the clockwise side, the paper underneath the title says “That means I can do Anything” This is derived from Christopher’s final line before the Maths Appendix: “‘Does that mean I can do anything?’” It is a question pitched to his teacher, Siobhan, which serves as the culmination of his growth after successfully embarking on a journey within a world that he simply isn’t equipped for.

• Both the aforementioned papers have folded corners. They are dog-eared.

• Moving further anti-clockwise, the envelope is from Judy, Christopher’s mother who is separated from Ed, Christopher’s father. Judy writes letters to Christopher, which Ed hides from him. She is one of three people who have the distinction of using circles as tittles rather than dots, which is how Christopher recognises her penmanship. Christopher’s address is given as 36 Randolph Street, Swindon, Wiltshire.

• Underneath that is the proof for the Pythagorean Theorem. This is derived from Christopher’s favourite question on his A-Level Maths Exam, “Show that a triangle with sides that can be written in the form n-squared plus 1, n-squared minus 1, and 2n (where n is greater than 1) is right-angled.” Christopher elaborates on this in the aptly-named “Maths Appendix” at the end of the play. IN THE ABOVE VERSION THE MATHS ARE CORRECT.

• The next paper is a to-do list, complete with times certain tasks were finished. Christopher needs his watch to keep track of what time it is—he refuses to let the police confiscate it. Christopher visits all his neighbours in an effort to solve the mystery of Wellington’s murder, but Ed forbids him from continuing. As such, the list is currently unfinished. The other items are mentioned at the end of the play: taking A-Level Maths, A-Level Physics, and going to university to eventually become a scientist. Also note the doodle of Toby (Christopher’s rat). Christopher does not strike me as the type to doodle, but I just felt as though it added a touch of human “charm” to the image. Also the humour of a person who illustrates trying to doodle as a person who doesn’t illustrate.

  

• The centre image is the police sketch of Wellington, as mentioned previously. I am aware that police sketches are generally used to identify a perpetrator, but it felt fitting to make one for the show. I don’t imagine Christopher would have made this in-universe.

• The description for the central police sketch is a rough retelling of the initial description of Wellington at the top of the show. The operative details preserved are as follows: “It was seven minutes after midnight (00:07). Cause of death: garden fork in the side. Note: the dog looked like it was running on its side like the way dogs do when they are chasing a cat in a dream. But the dog was not running or asleep. The dog was dead.” Yes, past me bungled the line in writing, even though I already had access to the script.

• There is a suspect list as to whom the killer could be. In scene 12, Christopher visits (in order): Mr. Thompson (incidentally my ensemble character), No. 40, Mr. Wise, and Mrs. Alexander, who gives him information about Mr. Shears. I surmise that all these people are eliminated, except for Mr. Shears, who becomes the prime suspect. Mr. Thompson is eliminated because he has an alibi. No. 40 is not given a name in the script; as such, I surmise that Christopher does not know her name. After Christopher’s brief interaction with Mr. Wise, he recites the prime numbers to calm his nerves. Then he encounters Mrs. Alexander, who offers him conversation and Battenberg cake, which Christopher is unfamiliar with.

• Recall if you will my earlier point about probability and permutations. Battenberg is a cake with a “square cross-section that can be divided into equally sized, alternately coloured squares.” Assuming a highly irregular 3x3 Battenberg cake, the number of different ways to eat all 9 squares can be calculated by 9!, or (9x8x7x6x5x4x3x2x1). As such, for a highly irregular 3x3 Battenberg cake, there are a total of 362,880 different orders to eat all 9 squares. For a regular 2x2 Battenberg cake, there are 24 orders to eat all 4 squares. Christopher never calculates any of these values, but I like probability and matters related to it, and these seem conducive to Christopher’s interests.

• Above this is a note based on Scene 16, wherein Christopher muses about his desire to be an astronaut. Specifically, this note muses on the prospect of taking Toby into space, which he would like to do “because they sometimes do take animals into space for experiments,” so he might be able to take Toby into space if he could “think of a good experiment” involving a rat that didn’t hurt said rat. But even without Toby, the mere opportunity to go would be a Dream Come True (in this capitalisation pattern). There’s a little doodle of space and cosmonaut Toby.

• On this paper, there are two sticky notes. “Whose Garden Fork?” asks for the likely perpetrator of Wellington’s murder, as he was killed by a garden fork stuck in his side. “451 Chapter Road, London, NW2 5NG” is Judy’s address in London, which Christopher uses to find her.

• The right thumbtacks and string make the constellation Orion. The left ones do not form anything intentionally meaningful.

• The final paper is the only paper mostly unrelated to anything that happens in the play. The only item in the play is the numbers 3558, the number on Ed’s bank card. Other items on this paper:

  • There is a doodle of Canis Major.

  • There are small sketches of celestial motion, the perceived paths stars take in the night sky.

  • There is a bit about the Theia Impact Hypothesis, aka the Giant Impact Hypothesis. This hypothesis states that a protoplanet called Theia collided with a young Earth, resulting in debris that eventually coalesced into the Moon. This is due to the compositional similarities between the Moon and the Earth.

  • Finally, there is a sketch of the orbits of the planets within the Solar System, wherein Pluto’s orbit is skewed. Pluto’s orbit is notably elliptical, occasionally bringing it closer to the Sun than Neptune.

• There are an assortment of stationery used by Christopher for these notes (sticky notes, an envelope, a graph paper, and lined paper). There are a couple different writing instruments as well (I know there’s a blue biro, a red biro, a black biro, a marker, and a graphite pencil at the very least).

Proper essay that was, wasn’t it? I wager that I’ll have trouble topping this image in terms of details to discuss. This first image, this first idea, was undoubtedly the best one of this production. Four years later, and I’m still very proud of the image I’ve created. This actually wasn’t the last of the art of Curious Incident—the moniker “Curious Illustrations” actually comes from another project that encompassed the entire production.

We extrapolate quite a few details from the playtext. The primary details pertinent to the process of design are as follows:

• Christopher is a very logical person in his own way. He loves outer space and mathematics, but struggles with interpersonal matters. He likes animals (at the very least, dogs and rats).

• Although Christopher’s focus is on mathematics and natural sciences, he is able to expand the scope of his focus beyond these areas.

• Details are a prominent part of Christopher’s existence. There is a section in which he describes everything that he sees on the train en route to London. The conceit of the play is that it is a play written in-story by Christopher, featuring a plethora of minute details. This in-story play is derived from a book in which Christopher records his observations and findings.

• As a logical extension to the above, Christopher is fond of detective stories. Particularly Sherlock Holmes. He is motivated for a time to solve the mystery of who killed the neighbour’s dog, Wellington (this isn’t a true spoiler because it is the inciting incident of the play). Ironically, Christopher would likely disapprove of the man behind the story, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, for his (seemingly illogical) belief in the supernatural.

• Christopher expresses affection by touching fingertips, hand outstretched, with those he allows to touch him.

A small anecdote. On the first day of rehearsal, my director brought the plush dog that would become Wellington (deceased) into the rehearsal space. Perhaps out of boredom, I offhandedly sketched a rough still life of this dog. Profanity warning: there is profanity in this sketch. Exercise caution, ye who enter.

I do remember why that note is there. The reason is as follows: {error 404: detail omitted for the safety of the reader}. The takeaway is that the dog that portrayed Wellington was a German Shepherd.

With all of this in mind, here are the other designs that came after the “flash of inspiration” design (these ones mostly came about for the sake of having options):

As mentioned above, I’ve assigned them unofficial nomenclature. For clarity, the rightmost one is called “Hands,” the centre one is called “NASA,” and the leftmost one is “Spiral.”

Details of “Hands”:

• This one was by far my least favourite one (and also the last one I created). It was inspired by the pivotal moment of Christopher touching hands with both his parents. The hands are intended to resemble depictions of constellations, with the two halves representing Christopher’s primary interests of mathematics and outer space.

• The hands are intended to loosely resemble images of planetary nebulae, the resulting mass of gas and dust expelled from the collapse of a small star.

• I think the nebula is inspired by infrared photos of the Eagle Nebula? I forgot from where exactly this image was derived.

Details of “NASA”:

• NASA was inspired by the appearance of NASA mission patches. Looking back on it, I think the moon was only weirdly detailed as a “flex” of sorts. Perhaps I missed doing inkwork like that at the time. Or perhaps I wanted to see if I could still pull it off. I don’t know.

Details of “Spiral”:

• Spiral was the second design made. It’s also my second favourite. The crux of this design was the utilisation of the Fibonacci spiral. Christopher never mentions the Fibonacci spiral in the show, but I figured that it’s something that is highly conducive to his interests. Everything radiates from the focal point of Wellington, who stares up at the sky.

  • The Fibonacci spiral is the shape created when drawing circular arcs connecting the opposite corners of a tiling comprised of squares increasing in size. The size length of each square corresponds to the values of the Fibonacci sequence.

  • The Fibonacci sequence is a sequence of numbers starting at 0 and 1, wherein each sequential number is comprised of the sum of the previous two numbers. Ergo, the sequence starts as follows: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, and so on. This sequence appears in nature semi-frequently, to the point where there is a dedicated journal to matters relating to the Fibonacci sequence, titled The Fibonacci Quarterly.

    

All these images paled in comparison to that first “flash of inspiration” image, which will be elaborated upon in the next part.

By the by, my numbering for this series of articles follows prime numbers, not cardinal numbers. In this vein of logic, the numbering is accurate in its own way.

Which isn’t a lot, but it’s rather odd that twice it occurred.

The proper time for this article has long past (four years overdue, as of writing), but I wanted to discuss the illustrations behind the show that started it all: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

My first play, and first time acting. Where it all began. While this show does not feature direct illustrations, this show did put me on the path of “theatrical illustration.” It started the process of research, planning, execution, and interwoven “trivia” that I still adhere to today. Perhaps moreso than most of my theatrical illustration work, actually.

Contrary to what people may think, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is not my favourite play (though it will always be special to me). Christopher John Francis Boone was also the easiest character for me to understand. It just made sense, how he processed and interacted with the world around him. I doubt there will be another character that just “clicks” like Christopher did.

Watching back footage of myself, I’m very proud of the work that I put in with the amount of knowledge and experience I had… being zero. My accent was shoddy, I didn’t know anything about acting (or stage directions, which led to incessant questions asking which way “stage left” was). Such is the case when you do your first production and learn via the school of sink or swim. As a more experienced actor, I’d love another crack at the character of Christopher, just to see how much I’ve grown.

Special thanks to my director and professor, Candice Martinez-Clasby, for taking a chance on me all that time ago by casting me in this play. I don’t think either of us could have could have anticipated the ramifications of this little action, how all of this spawned from that one production.

I could elaborate upon the whole audition-callbacks-casting. However, that is another story. Another story for another day. The pertinent part of the process for the purpose of this piece was when Candice asked if I was willing to design shirts for the show, and I said I’d think about it (I had previously told her that I was an illustration major elsewhere at the time).

On the drive home, I had the perfect idea for a piece…

• It lets me exercise my drawing hand (as I haven’t any reason to otherwise).

• It’s a whimsical, uniquely “me” way to advertise my shows.

• It exercises my imagination—I get to imagine how my character would behave without the constraint of adhering to reality.

  • Essentially: I find that it helps me develop character. It’s an avenue that I have access to in terms of “doing the work.”

As actors, our job (aside from auditioning) is to bring life to a character in a manner that can be justified by the text. This process of character creation is colloquially known as “doing the work,” and starts with analysing the text. The text gives us a plethora of information beyond setting and dialogue—it provides information on tactical tendencies, opinions, dialect, and more! This frame of reference may sound limiting at first, but it actually lends itself to a variety of possible interpretations, leading to variances in the iterations of a character.

Tommy Boy in Newsies has a limited number of lines. However, the way I interpret these lines, he’s either always insulting someone or making fun of someone. Therefore, Tommy Boy strikes me as a naturally mean-spirited person, “the friend nobody likes” of Jack’s group. His limited line count also indicates that he does not feel compelled to share his opinions with the rest of the group. I like to think it’s because he’s not as close with the others—he’s very much a work friend with the other newsies. Perhaps because of the aforementioned unfriendliness.

It should be noted that this isn’t the definitive, correct answer. It’s just the one that I arrived at that works for me to play and is supported by the text. I believe one of my counterparts arrived at a more clueless, innocently-insensitive characterisation than I have.

Identifying this habitual proclivity towards curtness was the lynchpin that helped me further develop Tommy Boy’s character (and subsequently my doodles). For instance, in this production, my Tommy Boy scarcely smiles around the other newsies, as he isn’t particularly close to them. This reflects both onstage and in my doodles.

I imagine that he puts on a “customer service” act when selling papes—it’s so transparently fake that customers buy papers just to get him to go away. Because I don’t ever sell papes in the show, this bit of trivia goes unused.

All these doodles are just rendered in a quick and easy cartooning style—no real reference in terms of style. However, the doodles are based on my actual in-show costume for the show.

Someone asked me where I got the shirt. My secret? It’s from Starbucks. The vest HAS to be fully buttoned to hide the Starbucks logo.

My research on this production also led me to find evidence of a newsie named Sniper. We didn’t have anyone cast in the role for our production, but it reminded me of the archetype of the “Cold Sniper,” which I thought fit the idea of an aloof, distant Tommy Boy rather well. So, for this show, I say that Tommy Boy is the best of Jack’s crew with a slingshot, even though I don’t actually have one in the show. This means absolutely nothing except for the fact that I get to depict Tommy Boy with a slingshot if I so desire.

Again, not actually in the show, but feels rather fitting, if I do say so myself.

Admittedly, despite my background in illustration, portraiture has never been my forte. I’ve always despised how the minutest details could make the portrait inaccurate or uncanny. As such, back in my illustration days, my focus was moreso scenes of nature, rather than the depiction of humans.

I was given the following specifications:

• A piece that looks hastily sketched, since he does it allegedly right there in the moment.

• A plain background and needs to look “like Katherine,” but also be ambiguous enough that we don’t need to change the image for each show.

• A mostly profile image of a young girl in her 20’s, hair half up half down (that is how they have been instructed to wear it), and a simple button nose (a feature they all shared).

• The basic shape can be sort of “girl with the pearl earring,” except just a graphite style hand sketch with fewer defining details.

In story, Jack has roughly five minutes to create a sketch for Katherine to find. As such, a rougher, messier style was necessary. I chose to leave all my construction lines fully available (akin to the below sketch), only taking out what was necessary to clarify the subject of the image.

As mentioned, Jack also needs to create this sketch from seeing Katherine in life—she’s not actively posing for him. Hence, it stands to reason that he’s sketching her at an angle that she remains in for an extended period of time.

Admittedly, I was caught up on the “mostly profile” instruction. Also, I began sketching this drawing while watching our rehearsals. In the process of sketching from life, I had notated that each Katherine had a defined jawline (I think—it’s difficult to articulate). As such, the first iteration of this portrait was…not conducive to either of our full satisfaction.

Yeah. We can’t always hit the mark on the first go. 仕方がない。It happens. This iteration was lacking in the femininity that the scenic designer was looking for. Also the hair texture was off—I had neglected the “curls” note while sketching from life (nobody had curled hair in rehearsal at this point in time). The angle originally envisioned by the scenic designer was a bit more of a coy 3/4 view (hence the Girl with a Pearl Earring reference, which I interpreted to be the positioning of the subject in the portrait).

In discussions, we determined that the front 3/4 view would sacrifice ambiguity, necessitating multiple portraits (which we wanted to avoid). However, we decided that a nearly 3/4 back angle would suffice—it has the ambiguity, but also allow for the desired femininity. It also would be the angle most frequently seen by Jack, and thus the easiest angle to sketch in-universe. In this angle, Katherine’s hair should flow over one shoulder. This doubled as a method of avoiding the question of costume, as we haven’t received specific images regarding the subject at that point in time. As such, the back 3/4 angle was perfect.

Iteration II was as follows:

This iteration would be the basis of the final sketch for the show. After a few minor adjustments back and forth (changing some of the shading, changing the bow into a ribbon, etc), we arrived at the final iteration for the show.

Technically, the use of the Loomis method (what I used to sketch these drawings) is anachronistic. It was developed in the 1940’s. This musical takes place in 1899. So apparently Jack Kelly is a trailblazer (or perhaps Andrew Loomis stole this method from him). Oversight (but I presume it’s acceptable because of the scarcity of people who know the history of portraiture).

Trailblazing art legend Jack Kelly aside, I’m satisfied with my handiwork (a rarity), and so was she. We got there in the end. And that’s what’s important.

When planning these images, I knew they were messier and less polished than the political cartoons for the following reasons:

• Jack’s reaction to Katherine finding them indicates that they aren’t meant for others to see (he snatches them away from her as his first reaction as per the script). As such, the handiwork did not need to be polished for these—they read to me as a coping mechanism for the sights he either saw or endured within the Refuge (or perhaps for his guilt for his perceived allowance of Crutchie’s capture).

• There’s no concrete detail as to whether these images were produced by Jack while he was in the Refuge or after Crutchie was captured. I was inclined to think the latter, as they’re not mentioned to be stuffed within the air vent pipes on the Rooftop in Act I. Jack also mentions trying to visit Crutchie, indicating he has visited the Refuge since his escape.

• Regardless of when in-story they were created, Jack likely was not in a position to render everything cleanly. Because I surmised that they were created after his attempt to visit Crutchie, Jack would have created these from memory (and it’s difficult to render environments from memory). If these are to be interpreted as an on-scene sketch while within the Refuge, either as an inmate or as a surreptitious visitor, the need for survival or stealth likely hindered the cleanliness of his rendering.

In terms of actual content, these images needed to depict “three boys to a bed,” “rats everywhere,” and “vermin” at the very minimum, as per the script. I drew inspiration from depictions of similar juvenile housing centres of the time.

I also needed to research rat swarms of the time. Fortunately, rats haven’t changed too much in the course of human history, so I just referenced other illustrations (not necessarily from 1899's New York).

In terms of number, the script only specifies that there’s more than one drawing (by the use of the plural “drawings” to reference artwork made depicting The Refuge). Furthermore, for the sake of time and spacing, I felt it was permissible to consolidate images focusing on “rats” and “vermin,” as both terms reference pests. As such, it was decided that two drawings would be made depicting the images of the Refuge.

Pertinent to these images was the inspiration from a black and white drawing of an expression similar to the one below from the game Little Nightmares. I’m not certain from where the image I’m thinking of originates. I think there was another character behind the child in question? A couple Google queries yielded nothing—this section will be updated if/when I can concretely find the image I recall.

There’s also this haunting image of newsies sleeping in a group on the pavement.

I’ve also taken enough figure drawing and painting courses to know that things need not be rendered cleanly—sometimes the simple suggestion of something is sufficient (woohoo, alliteration). This is particularly helpful when rendering things in plein-air (or on the scene in general) or when trying to quickly establish a concept within an image. With this in mind, I came up with the following images.

You can really see how crude, messy, and sketchy everything is. In particular the rats in the second image and the imperfect anatomy and perspective. As mentioned previously, the predominant philosophy driving these images forward was that the images were created either surreptitiously on-scene, or based on the fallible human memory. Important to depict were the instances of three boys to a bed (the first one) and the presence of rats/vermin (both images contain at least one rat).

To be perfectly honest, I’m not certain whether these images were used in our production. Regardless, they exist for this production, and I feel that I successfully created the look and feel of hurried sketches of squalor.

What’s really convenient about Pulitzer is that he was an actual person. Historical photos of the man exist.

I even found this drawn image of Pulitzer in a style close to that which I was envisioning.

This production of Newsies was multi-cast, so there were multiple people playing each role. To facilitate everyone’s job (both mine and the scenic artists’), I chose to base the depiction of Pulitzer on his historical incarnation, rather than the actors playing him in our show. That way, we needn’t fret about changing the image to accommodate each actor.

My research also led to me finding scans of the actual headlines from the time period (the closest I could find were from 1898 as opposed to 1899). Note that because The World left circulation before the advent of computers, scans of the masthead itself do not exist.

Note: The “masthead” of a newspaper refers to the newspaper’s overall title. It is not to be mistaken with the “banner,” which refers to the most prominent headline on the page.

Semantic note: I love the double meaning of the song title “Carrying the Banner.” It both refers to the camaraderie of a group of people united under one flag (or banner) whilst also referencing the anatomy of a publication (how the newsies emphasise the banner headline to sell papers).

Also see the intricate hatching in the above image.

My research also revealed that in reality, the leader of the strike was said to be a one-eyed boy named Kid Blink, pictured below in a cartoon from The New York Herald.

The style of this image also appeared to be something simple enough to enlarge, but effectively conveying the ideas and expressions behind the image.

With these considerations in mind, here is what I came up with:

This is the finished version with the intricate hatching that I dearly enjoy. A trend for my theatrical illustrations is that I tend to enjoy weaving little tidbits of trivia for keen-eyed or interested viewers. A little bit intellectual, if you will. Here are the fine details for this image:

• This depiction of Pulitzer is based on his historical incarnation, not the people that play him. As such, he does not resemble any of those men.

• The corona around him is one of two details taken from the masthead of The World (a corona surrounds the Statue of Liberty in the actual masthead). The other is the label “The World” on the ribbon surrounding the globe.

• The newsies under the globe are based on classical depictions of Atlas, the Greek mythological figure who was said to shoulder the world on his shoulders. They are drawn in the style of The New York Herald cartoons.

• None of the newsies are wearing shoes. This depiction makes them appear poorer and serves as a reference to a line in “Once and For All.”

• The middle newsie has an eye patch. Though Kid Blink does not appear in the show proper, I wanted to reference him in this image.

• Admittedly, I bungled the hatching a bit on the globe. It’s been a bit since I’ve “seriously drawn” (as some of my associates call it) to be perfectly forthright.

As mentioned, this wasn’t the “show” version—the show version lacks the hatching. However, I wanted to create a complete version with the hatching—this is the one presented here.

The two other strike images I was tasked with developing followed similar design philosophies—Joseph Pulitzer, when depicted, was based on his historical appearance, rather than his in-show actors. As per usual, Pulitzer was rendered in a style evocative of 1899’s-era political cartoons, while depictions of newsies were reminiscent of the New York Herald cartoons. These ones, I was permitted to utilise my intricate hatching, as they could simply be printed for display.

The font is this lovely little font called Zitz, which I chose because it struck a balance between legibility and looking handwritten. Its inspiration from the titular Zitz, a newspaper comic, made it even more fitting for the production of Newsies. While Zitz is from the 2000’s (and therefore anachronistic), it still has that timeless “newspaper cartoon” charm. The placement of the caption is in reference to the placement of image captions of the time: situated underneath the image (but enlarged to facilitate audience viewing). Both captions reference songs within the show: “The Bottom Line” is a number sung by Pulitzer and “Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won’t whip us” is a line sung by Jack to rally the other newsies in “The World Will Know” (incidentally, I have to sing this line as one of the ensemble newsies).

These images were all created using The Rusty Nib brushset on Procreate (special thanks to my costuming professor, Kaitlyn Caspary, for suggesting this brushset to me).

Is it a blog? I’m not certain.

For this inaugural blog post/article, I will be discussing the logic and process of the art of the musical that I am currently (as of writing) working on, Newsies (which also has the dubious honour of being my first musical).

Fun fact: due to my history in the arts, I have lost the ability to create things for myself or for the fun of making things. Consequently, I need a purpose to illustrate (ie: requests, productions, etc). Hence this strange niche of theatrical illustration I’ve come to inhabit.

The first image I was requested to create was a political cartoon, depicting the Newsies being crushed by Joseph Pulitzer. On page 76 of the libretto, the stage directions describe this image as “a large, passionately executed political cartoon of the newsies being crushed by Pulitzer in Newsie Square.” In the proshot of Newsies, this cartoon looked like this:

A quick Google search indicates that most productions tend to follow suit—the image of a crowd of people being crushed under a foot labelled “Pulitzer” is commonly used.

The first steps to approaching this image: determine the genre of image. A trivial task: it’s a political cartoon. From there, identify style and techniques frequently seen in similar images of the time. This part is more complex than it may initially appear. Some of my observations are as follows:

• Speech bubbles were not common in political cartoons of the time. The majority of the text was used in a manner similar to a caption, below the image it described.

• Parts of figures were not common either. If humans were drawn, the full figure tended to be used.

• Because of this tendency to use full figures, labels tended to be reserved for abstract concepts that were difficult to directly depict.

• Within political cartoons in circulation, intricate hatching was often used to create shading and depth.

We see these principles executed in the images below:

These principles even hold true for this comic I found from 1899 depicting the strike.

As such, I wanted to create an image that paid homage to these details. Another consideration of note was that it would need to be manually enlarged; as such, intricate hatching was no longer an option (though for posterity’s sake, I used it for an unused “completed” version).

In correspondence with the set designer, we also discussed what the mention of “Newsie Square” may be referring to. While we extrapolated that it likely refers to the area outside the World building within Park Row in New York City, we decided that the inclusion of this location was unnecessary—it is the most commonly omitted detail within the cartoon for the Pulitzer political cartoon (even the proshot appears to have omitted it).

With this in mind, here are some of the rough “brainstorm” sketches that I sent to the set designer. Each sketch used a single-letter nomenclature for easier reference.

Both of us were drawn to the concept of E, how it was so different from prior iterations of the Pulitzer cartoon, while also being true to the illustration trends of the time period. I was also tasked with developing two more of these sketches into proper strike materials and political cartoons (two because of space and time limitations). The ones I chose to develop were B and F, for reasons similar to the logic behind E. With this information in mind, production could begin.