I’d like to thank the Boston Globe–Horn Book Awards Committee for recognizing The Mona Lisa Vanishes; it is truly an honor. I’d also like to thank editor Annie Kelley, Katrina Damkoehler, and everyone at Random House Studio for trusting me to work on this book. Most of all, I want to thank Nicholas Day for writing this amazing book and for letting me contribute to it.

One of the great joys of my career has been having the opportunity to read a lot of books, and The Mona Lisa Vanishes is one of my favorites. I remember reading the manuscript a few years ago, knowing very little about this story. In fact, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t know the Mona Lisa had ever been stolen, and I was intrigued to learn something new. The story hooked me from the beginning as I read about a man hiding in a closet overnight in the depths of the Louvre. Early in the morning he slipped out into the Salon Carré and stood alone with some of the greatest paintings ever made.

As a young illustrator in New York City, just out of school and with very little money, I spent a great deal of my free time at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Because you could pay what you wanted for admission, I shamelessly visited often, for as little as a quarter. One of my favorite corners of the museum was the American wing, and if I went at the right time, there would be few other people there. I loved having a gallery almost to myself to spend time with great paintings by Homer, Sargent, and Chase. I would sometimes sit for close to an hour with one of my favorite paintings, Repose, by John White Alexander. Spending a night in the museum completely alone was something I fantasized about, but I never found a closet to hide in.

My wife and I took a trip to Paris many years ago. Visiting the Louvre and seeing the Mona Lisa was, of course, one of our highest priorities. We woke up very early and arrived at the museum a little before it opened. We had studied the floor plan and moved quickly to find the Mona Lisa, hoping to see her before the crowds arrived. Our plan went well, and although we definitely weren’t alone in the gallery, we did have a good few minutes with the masterpiece. I’ll never forget it.

[Read Horn Book reviews of the 2024 BGHB Nonfiction and Poetry winners.]

I’m not a fast reader, but I read the manuscript in just a few days and ideas for illustrations came easily. There was so much to work with — young Leonardo, Pablo Picasso, detectives, Renaissance costume, turn-of-the-twentieth-century English and French fashion, a fortuneteller, and even a Parisian billiard parlor!

I really only remember struggling with two of the illustrations. The first was a picture of King Francis taking a bath. I tried and tried but couldn’t find any visual reference for a Renaissance royal bathtub. Eventually, I ran out of time and ended up making something up. That picture still makes me laugh.

My second challenge was the cover. Throughout the book, I tried to avoid rendering the image of the Mona Lisa as much as possible for obvious reasons. In the few pictures that required it, I made it small and drew it as simply as I could. When it came time to sketch out ideas for the jacket, I came up with a few different compositions that showed only a hint of the painting poking out from behind a white smock worn by a mysterious figure. At the last minute, I created one more sketch that included a close-up of Mona Lisa’s eyes. I liked it, but I was very nervous at the thought of having to paint those eyes. I sent my sketches off to my editor, secretly hoping she wouldn’t choose that last one. Well, of course, you know that she did. I was going to have to render those eyes. I was terrified. I sat down with my da Vinci book opened to the Mona Lisa, pulled out my dividers, and started measuring those proportions. I had to get it right, so I measured, and I drew. Then I measured again just to be sure. I looked at the drawing I had so carefully made, and it looked dull and lifeless. I tossed it out and started over, measuring and drawing more carefully, but the result was the same. I tried a few more times but just couldn’t make it work; I was not Leonardo. I accepted that fact, put away the measuring tools, and went back to my original sketch made when I first composed the idea. The sketch I had made by simply looking at the painting and drawing what I saw, without all the careful measuring, worked. It’s not a perfect copy, but I think its imperfections give it a little of the life of the original.

Thank you all. This truly is an honor. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did.

From the January/February 2025 issue of The Horn Book Magazine. For more on the 2024 Boston Globe–Horn Book Awards, click on the tag BGHB24.