Natick Illustrator Rob Dunlavey awarded Maurice Sendak Fellowship

If you’ve ever passed through South  Natick in the early morning, you may have seen artist Rob Dunlavey strolling down Eliot Street toward the dam, sketchbook in hand. His pockets hold a few tools of his trade—pens, pencils, some chalk, a couple of brushes. Once looking out over the iconic beauty spot, his longtime habit of starting the day drawing begins. Nature figures prominently in Dunlavey’s daily  output—herons fishing for breakfast beneath the rushing waters of the spillway; red-winged blackbirds perched on a downed, dead tree limb; swallows catching insects on the fly; bunnies munching dew-covered grass. He says he simply draws what’s in front of him, and that the dam area offers a seasonally changing world of inspiration. Out of the dam drawings, Dunlavey says, “a kind of body of work sort of emerged, that looked like children’s book illustrations.”

That body of work has led to five children’s books, all nature-themed. Whale Fall, Exploring an Ocean Floor Ecosystem, written by Melissa Stewart, and published by Random House Studio in 2023, is his most recent completed collaboration.

The books, brought into the world over the past decade, were welcome additions to a resume that has included artistic work for the Christian Science Monitor, the Boston Globe, Time, Business Week, Better Homes & Gardens, and other regional and national publications. A freelancer for about 30 years, he has occasionally dipped into office culture, working for a time as an art director at an educational publisher. “I did computer games,” he says. “That was sort of sitting in a cubicle doing stuff. I never lasted too long in cubicles.”

Dear sir….

In late 2024, an intriguing email arrived. Dunlavey was invited to attend The Maurice Sendak Fellowship, a four-week residency program in Ridgefield, Conn., where the famed illustrator/author lived from 1972 until his death in 2012. The fellowship would provide time, space, and resources for promising illustrators whose primary focus revolves around picture books or other sequential visual storytelling in book format. The fellows (four in all) were offered both living and studio space, as well as a grant for each, to be used as they saw fit.

Rob Dunlavey sets up his studio space at the Maurice Sendak Foundation. His cohort was the first group of artists in new buildings on the property.  Sendak’s home and archive were just up the hill. Photo by Rob Dunlavey.

Maurice Sendak is undoubtably best-known for his monster of a tale, Where the Wild Things Are (the winner of the 1964 Caldecott Medal for the most distinguished American picture book for children was also made into a 2009 feature film), and the cheerful Chicken Soup with Rice. For more, explore Sendak’s dark-humor side in Into the Night Kitchen (a 1970 Caldecott Honor Book containing echoes of the Holocaust), and Outside Over There, with its hobgoblins and their baby-swapping shenanigans. In all, Sendak illustrated over 100 books during his career.

Sign me up

At first, Dunlavey was baffled. He hadn’t applied for any fellowships lately. But as he read the introductory materials, his excitement grew. This was no spam email. As one of the select few, he learned that Sendak Fellowship recipients can’t apply. Nor can they self-advocate, or schmooze their way in. Recipients are chosen each year by a nomination committee that anonymously puts forward candidates. A jury committee then reviews the candidates’ work and makes their top selections. The Foundation reaches out to the selected artists and extends the invitation to attend.

What a concept. Artists just have to live their best creative lives until the Sendak Foundation takes notice and waves them in. No bending the work to fit the vibe a residency subtly messages. No bragging about how many social media followers they have. Just recognition for being one of those who, in the words of Maurice Sendak, “…create work that is not vapid or stupid, but original; work that excites and incites.”

Sendak Fellows getting close looks of “Where the Wild Things Are” in the archives. Photo by Rob Dunlavey.

Thus began a slow-burn adventure that Dunlavey describes as “a lovely and productive sojourn.”

A town of 25,000, Ridgefield is about 60 miles north of New York City. The extensive Sendak property, 30 acres of which are under a conservation easement granted to the the Land Conservancy of Ridgefield by Maurice Sendak in 2010, is a bucolic place, with tended gardens and a feeling of calm. In addition to Sendak’s home, there is a new round archive building with a basement where much of the artist/author’s work is stored.

“We would go there for a couple hours a day and look at his original artwork,” Dunlavey says. “Part of the process of being in this fellowship was sort of slowly absorbing this person, Maurice Sendak. What was important to him? How was that expressed?”

Work-in-progress at the Sendak Foundation—pastel and pencil sketches by Rob Dunlavey for a possible picture book. Photo by Rob Dunlavey.

In addition to access to Sendak’s original work, about a dozen past fellows came to speak, some whose residencies at the Foundation were concurrent with when Sendak was alive. Other than that, Dunlavey focused his time on the studio space, working on a project that’s scheduled to publish next spring. He cites, “The lively and benevolent spirit of Maurice Sendak and the very real energy of the other fellows” as forging a  unique atmosphere conducive to creativity.

Back home

Now back in Natick, Dunlavey is already thinking about the illustrations for another book, one set in Natick, involving a stand of giant white pine trees and the red tailed hawks that inhabit them. This time, he’s writing the story himself. “All the books I’ve done so far have been with a different author. I hope the publisher will see some merit in my story.”

And, yes, he’s back to his daily dam visits. Many of you know that dam is slated to be demolished next year, allowing the 80-mile Charles River an additional 6 miles of unobstructed flow. One dam down, 18 more to go.

“I understand the arguments, and I’ve bought into those, I guess,” Dunlavey says. “But as it gets more and more real, I’m more mindful of missing the dam. And I will miss it. Maybe it won’t be that interesting, and I’ll stop going. I don’t know.”

For now, he simply concentrates on the near-term. Project deadlines are approaching. His volunteer work at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts leading tours for patrons with disabilities is ever-engaging. As he reflects on the broader meaning of the fellowship, Dunlavey’s thoughts focus on the here and now. “It felt good to take something from my daily experience that is tied to those morning drawings I like to do every day and that venture into the world of the book. I consider that a win as far as the fellowship is concerned.”

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