B.B. Cronin, the author and illustrator of “The Lost Cousins,” in his work space in Brooklyn, N.Y.
“When I am working I could be anywhere, really. I become totally unaware of my surroundings — totally. I am only aware of the surface I’m working on, my paints, brushes and water. I spend a lot of time mixing paint and this is a pleasure that can never be replaced by any computer. Mixing paint with water and developing colors is a joy. I discover shades of colors by accident. It’s a messy process and the splashing of paint that happens in the process of working ruins a lot of my clothes. When I look at the floor, my desk or my clothes, I can see my month’s work.
My father developed dementia in the last year of his life and I guess somewhere in my mind ‘Lost’ became a bigger word for me. I wanted to show in the series how looking and remembering is so important. At some stage, all we really have are memories of things lost.”
B.B. Cronin, the author and illustrator of “The Lost Cousins,” in his work space in Brooklyn, N.Y.
“When I am working I could be anywhere, really. I become totally unaware of my surroundings — totally. I am only aware of the surface I’m working on, my paints, brushes and water. I spend a lot of time mixing paint and this is a pleasure that can never be replaced by any computer. Mixing paint with water and developing colors is a joy. I discover shades of colors by accident. It’s a messy process and the splashing of paint that happens in the process of working ruins a lot of my clothes. When I look at the floor, my desk or my clothes, I can see my month’s work.
My father developed dementia in the last year of his life and I guess somewhere in my mind ‘Lost’ became a bigger word for me. I wanted to show in the series how looking and remembering is so important. At some stage, all we really have are memories of things lost.”