Home, Art, and Growth: The Picture Book World of Marta Eds

Span­ish illus­tra­tor Mar­ta EdsMar­ta Altés(1982-) is a ris­ing star in the British pic­ture book world. While not prolific—having cre­at­ed only nine pic­ture books since her debut in 2011—her work has gar­nered her numer­ous pres­ti­gious acco­lades, includ­ing a short­list for the Water­stones Chil­dren’s Book Award, two nom­i­na­tions for the Green­away Medal, and an Ezra Jack Keats Award for Best New­com­er. More impor­tant­ly, her works are wide­ly pop­u­lar, hav­ing been trans­lat­ed into near­ly 20 dif­fer­ent lan­guages, demon­strat­ing a high degree of cross-cul­tur­al accep­tance.

Mar­ta was born in Barcelona in 1982, where she grew up and stud­ied graph­ic design, even­tu­al­ly becom­ing a graph­ic design­er after grad­u­a­tion. Her life seemed peace­ful and smooth sail­ing, but Mar­ta could­n’t set­tle for less. From a young age, she loved pic­ture books and longed to become a pic­ture book illus­tra­tor, an oppor­tu­ni­ty she could­n’t have in her home­town. So, in 2009, she decid­ed to study chil­dren’s book illus­tra­tion at Cam­bridge School of Art in the UK. She suc­cess­ful­ly com­plet­ed her stud­ies and imme­di­ate­ly began cre­at­ing pic­ture books.

Mar­ta’s debut book, *No!* (Guangxi Nor­mal Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 2015), pub­lished in 2011, show­cased her tal­ent for illus­trat­ed sto­ry­telling, along with her sig­na­ture light humor. The book fea­tures a cute lit­tle dog nar­rat­ing the every­day life of his fam­i­ly in the first per­son; the dog’s bound­less ener­gy and self-absorp­tion, con­trast­ed with the var­i­ous embar­rass­ing sit­u­a­tions depict­ed in the illus­tra­tions, will have read­ers laugh­ing out loud. The huge suc­cess of her debut book estab­lished Mar­ta in the British pic­ture book world and gave her immense con­fi­dence. From 2012 to 2016, she main­tained a con­sis­tent pace of releas­ing one excel­lent pic­ture book each year: *My Grand­pa*, *I am an Artist*, *My New Home*, *The King Cat*, and *Lit­tle Mon­key*. After that, her writ­ing slowed down until 2019–2020 when she pub­lished “Five More Min­utes” and “New In Town,” and three years lat­er she pub­lished her lat­est book, “It Was­n’t Me!”. Except for “No,” the oth­er eight books are includ­ed in the “Mar­ta’s Growth and Art Pic­ture Books” series.

Few pic­ture book cre­ators are nat­u­ral­ly adept at the unique nar­ra­tive style of pic­ture books from the out­set; Mar­ta is an excep­tion. This may be part­ly due to her pro­fes­sion­al train­ing at Cam­bridge School of Art, but it should also be attrib­uted to her own pas­sion and tal­ent. From a nar­ra­tive per­spec­tive, most of her pic­ture books are told in the first per­son, using char­ac­ters such as pup­pies, kit­tens, mon­keys, grand­chil­dren, lit­tle artists, and old­er broth­ers. This kind of nar­ra­tion is very immer­sive, allow­ing read­ers to feel as if they are there, expe­ri­enc­ing the gen­uine emo­tions of the “I” in the sto­ry. How­ev­er, this kind of nar­ra­tion also has lim­i­ta­tions, often being too sub­jec­tive and lack­ing a more objec­tive obser­va­tion from a third-par­ty per­spec­tive. So, how does Mar­ta address this?

In “No!”, the nar­ra­tor is the fam­i­ly’s beloved lit­tle dog, who believes his name is “No!” because every­one con­stant­ly yells “No!” at him. How­ev­er, he even­tu­al­ly dis­cov­ers that the name tag on his leash reads “Spike”—and through the accom­pa­ny­ing illus­tra­tions, the read­er has already noticed the clues, clear­ly under­stand­ing that Spike often unknow­ing­ly mis­be­haves and steals food, caus­ing the fam­i­ly to con­stant­ly yell “No!” Even so, every­one still loves him dear­ly. The com­bi­na­tion of text and illus­tra­tions cre­ates a heart­warm­ing effect, allow­ing read­ers of all ages to expe­ri­ence a touch­ing por­tray­al of par­ent-child rela­tion­ships.

Mar­ta seems to have mas­ter­ful­ly employed this nar­ra­tive tech­nique through­out. For exam­ple, in *Elvis*, the nar­ra­tor is the first pet cat in the house, and the sto­ry is told entire­ly from the cat’s per­spec­tive. The nar­ra­tor feels like the king of the house, dom­i­nat­ing the ter­ri­to­ry, all the resources, and all the affec­tion, until one day a new dog arrives, dis­rupt­ing the old order and seem­ing­ly threat­en­ing to take away the nar­ra­tor’s ter­ri­to­ry and affec­tion. Adult read­ers will eas­i­ly rec­og­nize that this actu­al­ly depicts the pos­si­ble reac­tions of the first­born child when a sec­ond child arrives. Antho­ny Browne would use sur­re­al­ism, like in *Kid’s Home Is Dif­fer­ent*, to address such top­ics, adding a lay­er of weighty mys­tery. But Mar­ta tells the sto­ry through the voice of a cat, while simul­ta­ne­ous­ly show­ing the read­er the var­i­ous mis­chie­vous and adorable moments of the new dog, the cat’s annoy­ance when the pup­py is run­ning wild, and the cat’s lone­li­ness when the pup­py is not around. Ulti­mate­ly, the nar­ra­tor con­tin­ues to be the king of the house, treat­ing the dog as his clos­est play­mate. Mar­ta’s play­ful­ness and humor are hid­den with­in this seem­ing­ly light and easy­go­ing text-and-image nar­ra­tive.

In her two books pub­lished in 2019–2020, Mar­ta fur­ther mas­ter­ful­ly employed this inter­wo­ven text and image nar­ra­tive tech­nique. For exam­ple, in *A New City, A New Home*, a large, fluffy dog arrives in a new city search­ing for a new home. The dog asks the locals for direc­tions, and the text reads, “They all seem very will­ing to give direc­tions! But I don’t always under­stand what they’re point­ing to.” How­ev­er, in the illus­tra­tions, we see the dog wag­ging its tail very ami­ca­bly, unin­ten­tion­al­ly caus­ing trou­ble as a wait­er and a fruit ven­dor point and tell the dog to leave! This delib­er­ate­ly cre­at­ed “mis­un­der­stand­ing” between text and image pro­duces a play­ful effect that is both evoca­tive and play­ful, result­ing in a delight­ful sur­prise that brings a smile to the read­er’s face. It also allows read­ers to gain a rich­er expe­ri­ence from dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives, encour­ag­ing them to try to empathize and reflect. In this book, read­ers may not only smile but also feel the lone­li­ness and des­o­la­tion expe­ri­enced by a new­com­er.

“Five More Min­utes” uti­lizes the cor­re­spon­dence and com­par­i­son between text and image nar­ra­tives to show read­ers the sig­nif­i­cant dif­fer­ences in mind­set and state between chil­dren and adults in the dai­ly process of rais­ing chil­dren. Through the first-per­son nar­ra­tion of the lit­tle boy and the rel­a­tive­ly objec­tive pre­sen­ta­tion in the illus­tra­tions, it reveals the dif­fer­ences in the per­ceived length, speed, and pres­ence or absence of time. With a very child­like and cheer­ful sto­ry, it rein­ter­prets Ein­stein’s humor­ous yet pro­found “the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty of time.” Ein­stein’s exper­i­men­tal report con­clud­ed that “the observer’s psy­cho­log­i­cal state has a great influ­ence on the per­cep­tion of time.” Mar­ta uses the fox boy as a metaphor for this per­cep­tion, allow­ing read­ers to make rel­a­tive­ly objec­tive obser­va­tions with­in the illus­trat­ed sto­ry. Read­ers of all ages, due to their dif­fer­ent roles in rais­ing chil­dren, will also empathize with dif­fer­ent emo­tions. These are pre­cise­ly the expe­ri­ences that can be gained through the unique text-image rela­tion­ship in pic­ture books.

Pub­lished in 2023, *Not Me!* marks the first time Mar­ta Braun has writ­ten and illus­trat­ed her own work with­out using a first-per­son nar­ra­tive. This is like­ly because the book is the most per­son­al, with the two pro­tag­o­nists, Ellis and Char­lie, per­haps reflec­tions of her­self, neces­si­tat­ing the use of a third-per­son per­spec­tive. She ded­i­cat­ed the book to Luke, say­ing, “I love hid­ing things so he can’t find them.” Per­haps the sto­ry’s inspi­ra­tion stemmed direct­ly from real life. The per­fect island in the book eas­i­ly evokes the image of home, and the rela­tion­ship between Ellis and Char­lie can be seen as inti­mate roman­tic rela­tion­ships or close friend­ships. Their rela­tion­ship is destroyed by an “invis­i­ble hand” that steals what they share with­out their knowl­edge. How­ev­er, upon clos­er exam­i­na­tion, the real prob­lem lies in their mutu­al sus­pi­cion, buck-pass­ing, and loss of trust and coop­er­a­tion in solv­ing prob­lems. —Martha uses the pic­ture book for­mat to show read­ers the “cul­prit,” a large bird that isn’t inher­ent­ly evil; it sim­ply needs to raise its chicks and build its own home.

Through­out Mar­ta’s pic­ture books, the core theme she focus­es on is “fam­i­ly.” Although most sto­ries fea­ture ani­mal pro­tag­o­nists, read­ers can eas­i­ly dis­cern that they are all about fam­i­ly. In *My Grand­fa­ther*, the bear and grand­fa­ther rep­re­sent all human grand­par­ents and grand­chil­dren; *Elvis*, ded­i­cat­ed to “my broth­er Bur­nett,” is clear­ly about sib­lings; the rac­coon in *My New Home* rep­re­sents all chil­dren who have moved; *New City, New Home* is also about mov­ing, but the big, fluffy dog could also be an adult expe­ri­enc­ing a new city; *Five More Min­utes* seems more like a sto­ry of a sin­gle-par­ent fam­i­ly with an amaz­ing dad and two lit­tle boys; *Lit­tle Artist* is some­what like a bat­tle of wits between a moth­er and son who love art; even in *The Lit­tle Mon­key*, set entire­ly in the jun­gle, the mon­key troop feels like a large fam­i­ly, and Mar­ta admits that the lit­tle mon­key is, in a way, her­self. Her reflec­tion on liv­ing in a large fam­i­ly, expressed by the lit­tle mon­key, is, “Because the small­er you are, the greater the chal­lenges you face. But the best part is, the big­ger the hugs you get.”“

Because a per­son receives enough warmth and sup­port at “home,” they have the courage and con­fi­dence to explore the wider world with curios­i­ty, find new friends in new places, and build a new home in a new city. This is Mar­ta’s own expe­ri­ence and insight. She now lives in Lon­don, Eng­land, and is ded­i­cat­ed to cre­at­ing chil­dren’s book illus­tra­tions, while also serv­ing as a part-time teacher at her alma mater, Cam­bridge School of Art. The fairy tales in her pic­ture books are, to some extent, a reflec­tion of her own growth.

Mar­ta’s work is not only wit­ty and humor­ous, but also deeply mov­ing. In “My Grand­fa­ther,” the ele­ments are remark­ably sim­pli­fied, with the back­ground often com­plete­ly reduced to a deep red bear and a light brown­ish-gray bear. This col­or com­bi­na­tion is high­ly sym­bol­ic; the for­mer evokes bound­less vital­i­ty, while the lat­ter con­jures images of advanced age. The two col­ors, com­bined with spe­cif­ic shapes, dance against a sim­ple and ele­gant background—Grandfather walks alone, accom­pa­nied by red fall­en leaves; when rest­ing on a park bench, he is accom­pa­nied by red and gray birds, and even in the dis­tance, there are two trees, one red and one gray! Then, the appear­ance of “I” (the deep red bear) imme­di­ate­ly brings the scene to life. The nine con­sec­u­tive dou­ble-page spreads depict­ing “I” and Grand­fa­ther’s inter­ac­tions inevitably bring to mind John Burn­ing­ham’s “Grand­pa,” equal­ly touch­ing, but unlike “Grand­pa,” which focus­es more on per­son­al mem­o­ries, “My Grand­fa­ther” evokes a more uni­ver­sal asso­ci­a­tion.

“My grand­fa­ther was very lone­ly when he was alone, but he was a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent per­son when he was with the chil­dren. Some­times he was like an old man, and some­times he was like a child. When he was con­fused, he seemed not to rec­og­nize any­one, but when he hugged the chil­dren, he seemed to remem­ber every­thing. “Some­times, I am his eyes…sometimes, he is my eyes…”—these two pages are par­tic­u­lar­ly won­der­ful. The illus­tra­tions are still dom­i­nat­ed by red, brown, and gray tones, but sud­den­ly they become col­or­ful. The mutu­al see­ing and dis­cov­ery between grand­fa­ther and grand­son allows life to be enriched to the fullest extent. It is this unique depen­dence and mutu­al appre­ci­a­tion that pre­vents the sto­ry from end­ing with a dec­la­ra­tion like Antho­ny Browne’s “My Dad,” but rather “But that’s him. I love him just the way he is.”—It is prob­a­bly because of this unique and mov­ing pow­er that this book was select­ed for Mar­tin Sel­l­is­bury’s (author of “The Guide to Cre­at­ing Chil­dren’s Pic­ture Books”) “100 Great Chil­dren’s Pic­ture­books.”

How­ev­er, the book that sur­prised me the most among Mar­ta’s works is *Lit­tle Artist*, which is absolute­ly adorable! She must have let loose in this book, push­ing the humor to near-hilar­i­ous lev­els while ele­gant­ly answer­ing ques­tions like “What is art?” and “What is the rela­tion­ship between art and life?” From a tra­di­tion­al per­spec­tive, the lit­tle boy in the book seems like a naive and mis­chie­vous trou­ble­mak­er at home, com­ing up with one mis­chie­vous idea after anoth­er, while his incred­i­bly patient moth­er tire­less­ly responds, final­ly secur­ing a brief moment of peace and qui­et at mid­day. But the end­less­ly cre­ative and ener­getic lit­tle boy, using these pre­cious two hours and ten min­utes (look at the wall clock), unleash­es a spec­tac­u­lar attack—you can imag­ine the earth-shat­ter­ing roar his moth­er will let out when she wakes up!

But wait, what if we look at it from a dif­fer­ent angle? For exam­ple, if we reread this sto­ry from the per­spec­tive of con­tem­po­rary art, the result might be com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent. I once shared this book with all the fifth-grade stu­dents in a school (about 400 stu­dents). Before shar­ing, I asked them, “Who thinks they have an artis­tic taste?” Only one or two stu­dents brave­ly raised their hands, because their paint­ings had won awards in the city. Then, we read “Lit­tle Artist” togeth­er. Every “work” cre­at­ed by the lit­tle boy in the book elicit­ed bursts of laugh­ter. The chil­dren claimed that they actu­al­ly quite liked it, but on the oth­er hand, they said, “I’ll def­i­nite­ly get scold­ed by my mom,” so they did­n’t con­sid­er them works of art. How­ev­er, when I showed them more rec­og­nized works of art, such as Dal­i’s mus­tache, David Hock­ney’s “Mul­ti­ple Self-Por­traits,” Manet’s “Lun­cheon on the Grass,” Ai Wei­wei’s instal­la­tion art, and Yves Klein’s “Klein Blue,” the chil­dren were pleas­ant­ly sur­prised because they dis­cov­ered that their lik­ing and iden­ti­fi­ca­tion were actu­al­ly “legit­i­mate”! So, after read­ing it togeth­er, when I asked again, “Who thinks they have an artis­tic taste?” almost every child raised their hand!

Art, like life, has no stan­dard answers. Per­haps only school exams have stan­dard answers. Only when you let go of stan­dard answers can you tru­ly engage with life and expe­ri­ence gen­uine artis­tic enjoy­ment. “Lit­tle Artists” sim­ply tries to tell chil­dren that they are all artists by nature, and as long as they don’t let stan­dard answers wear down their edges and sense of fun, they still have the oppor­tu­ni­ty to become artists in life.

Such insights can also be shared with adults.

Writ­ten by A‑Jia on June 20, 2022 in Bei­jing
Revised on Octo­ber 8, 2023 and August 12, 2026

List of Chi­nese edi­tions of works by Mar­ta Eds

“No!”, trans­lat­ed by Liu Yang, Guangxi Nor­mal Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 2015 | “No!”, Child’s Play, 2011

“My Grand­pa”, trans­lat­ed by Chen Fei­jiu, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2017 | “My Grand­pa”, Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2012

*Lit­tle Artist*, trans­lat­ed by Chen Fei­jiu, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2018 | *I am an Artist*, Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2013

My New Home, trans­lat­ed by Chen Fei­jiu, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2017 | Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2014

Elvis Pres­ley, trans­lat­ed by Chen Fei­jiu, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2017 | “The King Cat”, Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2015

“Lit­tle Mon­key”, trans­lat­ed by A‑Jia, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2020 | Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2016

Five More Min­utes, trans­lat­ed by A‑Jia, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, 2024 | Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2019

“New In Town,” trans­lat­ed by A‑Jia, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, forth­com­ing | Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2020

“It Was­n’t Me!”, trans­lat­ed by A‑Jia, Jiang­su Phoenix Fine Arts Pub­lish­ing House, forth­com­ing | Macmil­lan Chil­dren’s Books, 2023