From Maira Kalman, the author of the bestsellers The Principles of Uncertainty and The Elements of Style, comes this beautiful pictorial and narrative exploration of the significance of objects in our lives, drawn from her personal artifacts, recollections, and selections from the collection of the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum
With more than fifty original paintings and featuring bestselling author and illustrator Maira Kalman’s signature handwritten prose, My Favorite Things is a poignant and witty meditation on the importance of both quotidian and unusual objects in our culture and private worlds.
Created in the same colorful, engaging, and insightful style as her previous works, which have won her fans around the world, My Favorite Things features more than fifty objects from both the Cooper-Hewitt and Kalman’s personal collections: the pocket watch Abraham Lincoln was carrying when he was shot, original editions of Winnie-the-Pooh and Alice in Wonderland, a handkerchief in memoriam of Queen Victoria, an Ingo Maurer lamp, Rietveld’s Z chair, a pair of Toscanini’s pants, and photographs Kalman has taken of people walking towards and away from her. A pictorial index provides photographs of the actual objects and a short description of them, enhancing the reading experience.
As it speaks to the universal experience and importance of beloved objects in our lives—big and small, famous and private—this unique work is a fresh way of examining and understanding our society, history, culture, and ourselves.
Maira Kalman was born in Tel Aviv and moved to New York with her family at the age of four. She has worked as a designer, author, illustrator and artist for more than thirty years without formal training. Her work is a narrative journal of her life and all its absurdities. She has written and illustrated twelve children's books including Ooh-la-la- Max in Love, What Pete Ate, and Swami on Rye. She often illustrates for The New Yorker magazine, and is well known for her collaboration with Rick Meyerowitz on the NewYorkistan cover in 2001. Recent projects include The Elements of Style (illustrated), and a monthly on-line column entitled Principles of Uncertainty for The New York Times.
Kalman’s quirky, lovely book sort of meanders around to explore how the objects she loves pertain to her growing up—and she’s still “growing up”—especially her growing up in a particular place. She tells of that growing up, illustrating it with her lovely, intimate watercolors, and then reveals that story’s relationship to the objects she has chosen for a 2011 exhibit she curated from the Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum in NYC, chosen from their collection. Then she shows you more stuff she collects and/or likes. And what is the rationale for her aesthetic approach?
“Everything is part of everything. We live, we blunder. Love invites us.”
What kinds of things does Kalman like? Old leather bowling shoes, buttons, list of names in Part I of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, dolls, Abraham Lincoln’s pocket watch, tickets, stubs. She once won an auction for a pair of Arturo Toscanni’s pants!
She also quotes Neruda “An Ode to Things,” Wittgenstein, Darwin, Walter Benjamin, she’s all over the place, thanks god. I’d follow her anywhere.
Maira Kalman's books (and art) make me feel rapturous. I'm just so glad to be on the same planet - and even be the same species! - as this artist who just gets it. I can't explain what it is she gets. But she does. She gets it. And then she explains it. And you get it too. And then you smile.
I bought two copies of this book, one for myself and one for a friend. When I gave it to her, she said - glancing at the cover, "Thanks I'm sure my young kids will love it."
So I had to explain, this is not a kids book. It's a picture book for grownups. Later that night, my friend emailed me. "I'm in bed but I can't go to sleep. I'm reading this book you gave me and I cannot put it down. It's your fault."
Every time I read a book by Maira Kalman, I want to invite the author over for tea and crumpets. Or maybe a glass of sherry. She sees the world in a way that most of us adults lose touch with as we drape ourselves in our serious-grownup-adult cloaks. And our lives are the sadder for it.
This picture book for adults contains paintings, photos, and wonderfully quirky text by the author. We surround ourselves with objects, but how often do we really look at them? The author does just that in "this beautiful pictorial and narrative exploration of the significance of objects in our lives, drawn from her personal artifacts, recollections, and selections from the collection of the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum." An ode to the whimsy of collections.
Maira Kalman is one of my most favorite authors. Friends, I love this woman. Her way with words and the things she loves make me (to quote Helene Hanff) want to shout out, "Comrade!" Loved this book. Not my very favorite of her books, but I loved it. Still need to buy it.
Troszkę ciężko mi to oceniać, because o ile uważam że to było mega sweet i jakby wydaje mi się że zamysł był taki żeby to było po prostu fajne i słodkie i randomowe, ale też żeby to dobrze zrobić. I loved it, but the thing is to jest sztuka i obrazki i wgl, a ja nie ogarniam sztuki i tego też nie ogarniam.. ale no i still liked it
The Cooper Hewitt Museum in NYC once asked Maira Kalman to do an exhibit based their collection; My Favorite Things is the book based on that exhibit. The first part is a brief autobiography of Kalman, followed by illustrations of her favorite items from the Cooper Hewitt, followed by illustrations of Kalman's other favorite things, all accompanied by brief bits of text and excerpts from other books. This is like a picture book for adults; it's a bit hard to review because it's so short. But the illustrations are beautiful and the text is lovely, like poetry. Kalman always has a remarkable ability to fit a lot of meaning into a small space.
A charming, moving book that purports to be about the beauty and elegance of things (taken from the Cooper Hewitt museum, the author's life, and memory) but is really about love, loss, and life.
Loopy whimsical handwriting paired with beautiful illustrations that bring new life to inanimate objects and simple pleasures like a candy shop and collecting photographs of dogs. A nice book for a cup of tea and a comfy chair to enjoy some of Kalman’s shared favorite things.
My first Kalman book with a second one ordered and on the way. I know nothing about her at all. Initially, this felt very slight and sweet but reading other reviews is helping me to see the value of it. I read it in thirty minutes or so. It is gorgeously done. I suppose the truth is it left me wanting more and to know more about her. So, it is a good thing that second book is on its way. Meanwhile, I'm going to visit a friend who is stuck in hospital and finds herself unable to concentrate on novels. This might be perfect for her or, at least, it might get her back on track regarding books.
"You can rely on sadness. Happiness, well...that is a different story."
"Go out and walk. That is the glory of life."
"Before there were forks, there were spoons. The spoon can be used by a baby, by a person eating soup. Watching a person eat soup can break your heart."
"...what can you be certain of? What is absolute? The ground never stops shifting."
This illustrated exploration of Kalman's favorite things--from life, from her own collection, and specifically from the Cooper-Hewitt museum in New York City is charming. Her art is colorful and happy, a bit naive, and her exploration and inclusion of quoted material from artists and writers, as well as a brief introduction about the people and place she came from, make this a perfect example of a book only she could write and illustrate. The premise is simple, but there is real heart here and her unique take makes this charming.
Quirky. Beautiful drawings, paintings, photos matched with quirky words. A fast read. I enjoyed the authors illustrations in Pollan’s Food Rules book. This was equally engaging.
A student gave me this book as a gift, and I am so grateful he did, not only because I loved it but also because Kalman's rhapsodic quirkiness will now forever be married in my mind with this student's wit, aestheticism, and eclectic memory and imagination. The student and Kalman share the feeling that objects are luminous beyond themselves, not only because they attest to the lives of people who came before us (and thus in some way both memorialize and undercut their loss) but also because they attest to the wonderful (in the original sense of filled-with-wonder) wackiness of the human condition, the strangeness of a world that would invent flamboyant hats. Flamboyancy becomes both a way of resisting mortality (she collects photographs of dandies and of angels walking away from the camera) and also a way of acknowledging its power by throwing the gauntlet--usually a ruffled, brightly colored gauntlet. Kalman interweaves her family history, ornate Sabbat dinners and the fleetingness of beauty and body, with these items that came from a design collection to remind us that we crave things, not merely in a capitalist frame, but also to render the quotidian luminous and to aspire to the borrowed luster (Benjaminian aura!) of historical figures. Kalman's colors are lush and bold, her faces in flat planes, her collected objects sometimes more mimetic than her scene-setting, which tends to emphasize color and light in an impressionistic way. As Kalman says (I'm paraphrasing), sometimes we remember light and mood more than we do solid truths, and they shape us ("there's a certain slant of light"). Throughout this book is the heartbreak of loss, the inevitability of mortality and decay, the uncanniness of objects that will outlive us, objects rendered even more uncanny through their lack of greatness and their excess of ornamentation. Kalman alludes to historical trauma (the Holocaust) and personal tragedy (her mother's death). The whole of the volume counterposes its own lushness, color, and humor with the intimations of mortality on every page. In the face of inevitable erasure of ourselves and those we love, we wear fancy hats and ridiculous shoes. We collect buttons and photographs of angels. We decorate our tombs.
Maira Kalman’s My Favorite Things is an absolute delight to read, and a wonderful book to have in one’s possession. In its pages, Kalman quite beautifully captures a sense of wonder and nostalgia, the narrative winding its meandering way through pages and pages of curious items and familiar descriptions. Every page is majestic in its own way; every page makes you want to thoroughly look at it, to examine it, to turn it around in your hand if you could, much like how it was to visit the house of someone so much older than yourself as a child and only being allowed to look at all of the trinkets in the glass, mirror-backed case, not to touch. The artwork is beautiful, a showcase of time and care and memory, and the accompanying words are just as intimate, every word written by hand and an old-fashioned, self-inking pen. The narrative, while meandering, maintains a steady path alongside a few different threads of topics, each braided with the others and emerging to the forefront in turn—Kalman’s memories of her family are intertwined with the many items in the art installation she arranged and expertly inserted quotes of other people’s thoughts, all neatly aligned in a way that leads the reader gently along from topic to topic with all of the confidence and logic of a comforting but ever-shifting dream. It’s an absolutely beautiful piece, bringing back memories that I didn’t realize I still had and hinting at other paths to be led down that leaves one wanting more. Highly recommended.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Masterpiece of whimsy and caprice - shouldn't really count as "read" because there is more to look at than peruse, but pictures (some photos, some drawings) and text together make it delightful. In 2011, Kalman was invited to curate an exhibit from the wide range of objects in the collection of the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum in NYC. "The pieces that I chose were based on one thing only - a gasp of DELIGHT. Isn't that the only way to curate a life? That intention comes through in the pictures she shares that she either drew or photographed. From shoes to paintings to glassware to cutlery, the random selection elicits her observations and stories including her family's immigration from Belarus to Tel Aviv to the US. The final museum piece she chooses is an old sampler "Amor Nos Une" - Love Unites Us. She ends with her own personal collection - of books, letters, buttons and things she likes. Fun little escape and the realization that humans are so attached to things. Also a good moment to reflect on my own 'collections' and whether or not they inspire delight.
When I was oh hhm maybe five my Grandpa and I made a chair together (I'm sure I wasn't much help) and ever since then I can't stop thinking about chairs. This book shares the same sentiment I think.
I really enjoy reading collections like this but they are typically something that is out of my personal budget/ price range (thanks local library), especially for being a 10 minute read. I really appreciate and respect the author and their work and all and if someone is an Artist as a job that's how they make money and no-one should be taken advantage of etc etc so art cannot be free. BUT I do appreciate above all when art is accessible to me and everyone else. This is nothing to say about the artist, just that this is how things are set up to be in our current system I guess :/ Just thinking about this today, probably because I am trying to decide which books from a list to buy. Maira Kalman does a lot of cool stuff. This book is like $40.
Invited to curate an exhibition based on the collection of the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum in New York, Maira Kalman spent a year selecting objects based solely on the fact that they caused “a gasp of delight”. This book is about those objects, with a first part on the author’s background and a third on the objects she collects or really likes. Richly illustrated with her beautiful drawings, colourful and expressive, and accompanied by short and meaningful texts, this book was a pleasure to look at and read.
How much fun would it be to be invited to curate a collection at a museum? This book is about Maira's adventure doing just that. She took an entire year to curate a collection of items that made her gasp. Then she drew and painted them in her book. Granted, my standards for gasping are clearly different than hers but I love the way she tosses in personal stories like the one about her mother being rescued from drowning by her grandfather and his beard. The accompanying picture she painted seemed a bit more like a fairy tale than reality, but it was charming anyway.
This beautifully illustrated book of simple objects and simple words somehow made me cry like three times. Maira Kalyan is so good at cutting right to the core of what is so touching about items we see and use every day.
“This is the same village where my mother almost drowned in the River Sluch. In that village there were dogs. And bread baked by the women. And shoes. And rooms that had to be swept. And the singing of songs. The lighting of candles. People lived. People died. Everything is part of everything.”
This was recommended by an author I respect, who also likes to paint in a similar style to Maira Kalman. It was a quick read but didn’t resonate all that much with me. Kalman uses watercolors in a primitive style, documenting random things she likes and includes personal comments about each item. This puts the book in the memoir category.
Most of the book featured her favorite things from the collection of the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum. For some reason I felt the mood changed from whimsical to depressing the more I read. After a while I felt like this wasn’t the book for me.