The Milky Way

Here is the story of a book stitched by friendship over many years.

Gunnel Larsdotter, dear friend and former island neighbor, approached me years ago about illustrating a beloved poem she had translated, Vintergatan, also the Swedish word for the Milky Way, or Winter Street. I was intrigued. It’s a magical telling of how the bridge of stars was built by two lovers separated by death, written by a Finnish poet, Zacharias Topelius, in the mid-1800’s. She first read it in school as a young girl and it lodged deep in her heart.

She couldn’t find any satisfactory translations in English, so began working on her own. Gunnel emailed me in September of 2014:

Would very much appreciate getting some links from you as to where to begin the road to the Milky Way. In the poem it took them a thousand years. I would like to work within a shorter time frame.

Ha! It took us almost a year to sit down in August 2015 to discuss it. I took notes.

It would take many many more years of emails, meetings, and dummies to bring the book to print.

My first attempt to sketch out the opening scene with a lake bound by mountains met with Gunnel’s approval. It was perhaps 2016, between my semesters teaching at Maine College of Art and illustrating posters for Portland Stage that I completed dummy #1. Other pages needed more work, but it was a start.

Gunnel held on to that dummy for awhile, and continued to tinker with her translation. Every word mattered. She told me, “Swedes are tough critics” and she was determined to give this poem the lyrical justice it deserved. More months passed, and I redrew the opening scene inspired by a favorite spot in the White Mountains where I grew up.

Working in pastel helped me establish the mood and color scheme, and this piece changed very little over the next few years. I even added some snowflakes for use in a holiday card.

Beginning in 2017, Gunnel faced various surgeries and the book project took a back seat over the next three years. We kept a thread going with correspondence, exchanging ideas and inspirations.

While I was working on other projects, the Milky Way remained on my radar. I gathered plump folders of anything that sparked a visual.

One of the spreads that evolved dramatically was this one, in which Sulamit and Salamye have worked for a thousand years to build their bridge of stars. The “zodiac’s path of lace” was a compelling idea to capture. Perhaps this dogged attempt to draw constellations would set the stage for my book, Skywatcher, yet to come.

The illustration that proved to be the most challenging of all was to show God. OMG.

I got really stuck on this. Other work intervened as usual, yet it was always tickling the back of my mind while I instinctively looked for the face of God. And so why not a trip to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, a heavenly place where my eyes lingered.

I distracted myself with cherubs in the meantime.

I was finding angels everywhere.

I posted this drawing of Salamye on Instagram in December 2017 as a work-in-progress.

Eventually I tackled God again, and tried an abstract approach.

After all the patient dots, I still was not even close, but the cherubs were fun to draw.

Gunnel suggested a circle of light, a cherub in dismay, and more emphasis on the enormity of God’s message. But this revision didn’t happen for months. I had written a book in the meantime, and was more focused on urgent deadlines of my own. Yet all that star drawing would come in handy for what became Skywatcher.

By the time I sent off final art for Skywatcher in March 2020, I was ready to bring all of The Milky Way illustrations to the final stage, with numerous changes. What with quarantines all around, I simply sequestered in my studio.

Gunnel was also busy with other things. She traveled to her native Sweden in 2021 and shared dummy #3 with a few of her relatives and friends, receiving encouragement to keep going. She signed a contract with a publisher later that fall.

We met in her lovely garden in May this year, when the keys of heaven were in bloom, as they are at the end of the book.

The publishing process has been slow as molasses but we were optimistic we’d have books in our hands by late fall. It was time to make a toast to Topelius, whose evocative poem had inspired this labor of love. There’s very little written about his thoughts on the poem, other than speculation that he wrote it for a dear friend who had lost their beloved.

I brought local rhubarb wine and Gunnel brought the lobster rolls! Cheers and thanks, dear Topelius. May your poem endure and be enjoyed by a new audience.

The first book proofs arrived in late September, a rather proud moment! And it didn’t take a thousand years:)

A book launch is in the works, but meanwhile you can find our book HERE.

Thank you, Gunnel, for your patient belief in this book, and all who wish upon a star!