Nothing but Ghosts and the Lost Painting

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

A few weeks ago the entirely delightful Kelsey Boeckermann invited me to tell the story behind the making of the Nothing but Ghosts cover. Is it all right, I emailed back, if much of the process went on beyond closed doors—and if I had nothing to do with the outcome, save for holding my breath until the official unveiling and thanking my editor and cover designer to great excess in the aftermath?

Sure, Kelsey said, and thank goodness. Because that, in this case, is the absolute truth: Nothing but Ghosts, the cover, is the gift that I was given by two people who worked extremely hard on its behalf. Jill Santopolo, my editor, has appeared on this blog many times before—never gratuitously, always and only because she makes my writing life an infinitely richer one. Carla Weise has had her moments here as well; who wouldn't appreciate an art director who goes the distance for an author she has never even met? (Though I'm coming, Carla, and I'm going to find you.)

Like all my work—the memoirs, the poems, the autobiography of the river, the corporate fable, the young adult novels—Nothing but Ghosts is populated by the known, the actual. In this case, a version of Chanticleer garden, also the subject of my fifth memoir, forms a fictionalized backdrop. Katie, my narrator, is living through loss, something I have had to learn to do as well. And then there's this painting that Katie's father is restoring—scenes inspired by the restoration of the inherited family painting shown above.

In the novel, the painting is similarly strangely skied and time obscured. In real life, the painting was the work of my great uncle, Lloyd Morgan, who designed the Waldorf Astoria, the Pierre, the Boca Raton, and so many other indelible monuments to another time. Years ago, Lloyd Morgan also painted each of his buildings into this single skyscape; when he passed away, the 16 foot x 4 foot canvas was entrusted to my father. Under my father's direction and by the talents of two art restorers, the canvas (once referred to as "the lost painting" in architectural magazines) was brought back to life and now hangs in the Wolfsonian Gallery at Florida International University.

In any case, Kelsey's blogged the Nothing but Ghosts cover story today. Spend some time with her, on her site.

11 comments:

Kelsey said...

Thank you so much, Beth. You're so sweet. I loved your story. It's great to find out where these faces of novels come from and what authors think about.

Thank you, again!

PJ Hoover said...

Now that gives me chills! I can't wait to read Nothing but Ghosts!

Charlotte said...

I was just over at Kelsey's blog-- love reading fascinating bits like this about the life behind the book! (or perhaps I mean the life of the book. or in the book. or whatever...)

I'm looking forward to it!

Beth Kephart said...

Thank you, Kelsey.

And also you, Ms. Hoover.

And Charlotte: So nice to see you here.

Kelsey C said...

Hi Beth,
I just thought this entry was quite coincidental because I (another Kelsey) just did a rhetorical analysis of "A Talent for Living" from Nothing But Ghosts for my Rhetoric of Style class!

Kelsey C said...

Oh no! I mean Ghosts in the Garden... can you tell it's exam week? I'm delirious!

Beth Kephart said...

Kelsey, my dear Kelsey C (you adorable thing). I was wondering how in the world you had a copy of NBG, since I know of no one in the world who has read it, save for my editors and myself (always the safest time for a writer).

I'd love to know what you had to say about A Talent for Living. I think I should probably go back and re-read that chapter right about now!

Vivian Mahoney said...

Beth,
I love how you merge pieces of the familiar into your stories.

What a talented family you have! You must love how your family legacy lives on for others to enjoy and appreciate.

My sister was an architect until she went on disability. I bet she studied all of your great uncle's buildings.

Beth Kephart said...

Vivian, there is so much we share. I'm actually married to an architect who became, these past few years, a graphic designer and, hence, my business partner. I grew up entranced by my Uncle Lloyd—his workshop, his models, his yellow trace paper, his huge sky-searching telescope. That painting. Which consumed an entire room. Which is filled with the most extraordinary details.

He was an uncle by "marriage" and so his talent was his alone, not passed on, just appreciated.

Anna Lefler said...

Oh, this is amazing, as your family obviously is as well. I could spend hours looking at that painting...

XO Anna

Beth Kephart said...

Anna, I spent a childhood studying that painting. And still it is mysterious. Paintings are. The best ones, anyway.

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