—Ryan’s Review of the Writing—

Anytime OPB covers a wordless or nearly wordless picture book, I ask myself–do I skip my part? Should the artist do the entire review? Let’s see.

The premise is rather simple. A young dancer freezes up when it’s showtime. Instead of facing the stage, she slips off and hides. It seems important to note that the girl loves dancing and has practiced, practiced, practiced. Her anxiety never comes across as stemming from being unprepared. With almost no text on the page, the storytelling has to make those feelings clear without explaining them.

The few words that appear (“time to go” and “time to hide”) carry a lot of weight. I almost read them as section or chapter headings for the emotional plotline.

The seasoned dancer who finds the girl hiding handles things so impressively. Even if this book had hundreds of words, I don’t think there’d be a pep talk or lecture. The red ribbon she gives the young girl works as emotional shorthand. That small gesture ends up carrying the story a lot farther than I imagined it could.

We watch the young dancer grow older and have a minor crisis when the ribbon is misplaced. But she steps onstage without it and performs wonderfully. This keeps the ribbon from becoming some magical talisman. And when she finds another young dancer hiding as she once did, she knows just what to do.

Passing on that ribbon is an act of kindness that can move from person to person. Yes, this is a story about confidence and performing, but it’s also about remembering who helped you along the way and how you can–and probably should–help others down the road, too.

The Ribbon is a lovely book with a quiet-​but-​vital message that rises above the expected “believe in yourself” angle.

4.25 out of 5 red ribbons

—Austin’s Review of the Illustrations—

It’s impossible to discuss the artwork in The Ribbon without discussing the story a bit, because author-​illustrator Tessa Blackham has created a truly integrated sequential narrative spare on verbiage, but full of emotional impact. So, pardon me if I intrude on Ryan’s territory a little this time.

Blackham’s masterfully crafted layouts summarize better than words the work that goes into perfecting a craft, and becoming the best version of yourself you can be The time and effort and attention that goes into pursuing a dream, only to be faced with unexpected and seemingly insurmountable barriers in its pursuit

Through point-​of-​view panels, we can sense the ballerina’s fear, and her sense of becoming as she basks in the spotlight. Beautifully charming and exquisitely paced sequences cause the reader to become as attached to the ribbon as the dancer is.

The cartooning is direct and approachable, from gestural pencil-​and-​watercolor sketches to more rendered conté crayon and stenciled compositions full of subtext, and the same deceptively effortless movements as the dancer’s. Finding a satisfying dynamic range between the pastels chosen to represent the ballerina’s world is no small feat, but the scenes never feel muted or washed out. Each sumptuously textural page portrays stage light (and offstage light) as convincingly subtle and stark by turns. Just like ballet, the drawings seem to come alive and hover midair, untouched by gravity.

Through it all, the ribbon entwines a visual cue for the support of the masters and fellow artists from whom we learn and draw inspiration. Blackham’s ballerina learns a powerful lesson for children and the modern world about the self-​discovery that happens between wishing to be able to do a thing, actually learning how, and passing it on.

5 out of 5 conté crayons