Packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been

My children's school required massive volunteerism from parents.

Unskilled at most useful things, I contributed art, which usually meant art directing the themed auction and fashion show fundraisers (more on that down the line),  but once in a while meant creating honest-to-goodness design and illustration.

This was for a series of small posters and fliers tipped into the school and church bulletin (that is, volunteers opened each bulletin and put a flier in; madness), all color copied (good ol' Kinkos, which I have discovered in sadness has become the decidedly unimaginative FedEx Office) on tabloid paper and trimmed to get the full bleed (color right up to the edge, for you civilians).

The nice part of volunteer work is that you can't be fired, and the beneficiary usually (but not always; more on that down the line too) accepts whatever you have to offer.

I didn't have to give the school a bunch of different concepts, as I would with a paying client, and this idea came to me all in a rush, so it was just a matter of following through on the concept.

Pink, white and black, the perfect combination.

The icons of a bygone era practically drew themselves. That I could reduce them to shape and silhouette was more than half the fun.

The car was the most difficult to render because I had so many references to work with. Meaning, which car? I went with the Bel-Air, which has always drawn me, for some reason, and I have drawn it, or a variation thereof, several times over time (more on that later as well.)

Still, the poodle skirt poster is my favorite, just for the crop and the quiet loudness of it. It means more things to more people, I guess (people remember Chuck and Elvis and Marilyn and cars, but not all like them; the poodle skirt evokes a more personal memory for many; I think that my mom would have liked this image especially, for the time and place it would have transported her.