The Art Book for Children
Authors: Ferren Gipson, Amanda Renshaw, Gilda Williams
Publication Date: May 22, 2024
Publisher: Phaidon
Reading Age: 7–12 years
Page Count: 192 pages
Language: English
Grade Level: 2–7

Book Overview:

The Art Book for Children is a newly combined, revised, and expanded edition of Phaidon's iconic art book series for young readers. Originally launched two decades ago, this series quickly became a beloved resource for introducing children to the world of art. This latest volume brings together the most celebrated artists from the original collection and includes 30 brand-new contemporary entries, making it ideal for a new generation of readers.

Key Features:

• Features 60 artists across a variety of media, including paintings, photographs, sculptures, video, prints, and installations
• Large-scale, full-page reproductions for immersive visual engagement
• Written in a clear, accessible tone for children to understand and enjoy
• Encourages parents and children to explore and discuss art together
• Great for both at-home learning and classroom use

Critical Acclaim:

Praised by The Guardian as “a perfect introduction to art for parents and children to enjoy together,” and featured in The Wall Street Journal, WSJ Magazine, and The Times UK, this book is recognized as an essential resource in children's art education.

When I first opened The Art Book for Children and flipped to the contents page, I was immediately struck—not by the list of names, but by the vibrant design itself. The colors leap off the page, creating a visual rhythm that is both playful and inviting. It feels less like a traditional table of contents and more like a curated gallery wall—each strip of color offering a preview of the tone and texture of the artist it represents.

But what I found even more interesting was the order in which the artists are listed. At first glance, you might expect a typical alphabetical arrangement or perhaps a historical timeline. But this table defies both. It’s not organized by era, geography, or even by artistic movement. Instead, it seems to follow a logic of its own—possibly one that prioritizes technique, visual language, or even emotional tone.

And I love that.

This isn’t a book that’s trying to teach art history in a rigid, encyclopedic way. It’s more exploratory. It’s an invitation to discover art not through a linear path, but through an intuitive and aesthetic one. Children (and adults) turning these pages are encouraged to experience artists side-by-side in unexpected ways: Monet next to Berthe Morisot, Nam June Paik just a few pages from Clara Peeters. The result is that each artist’s voice feels equally present—no hierarchy, no historical pedestal. Just color, expression, and imagination.

Of course, from a reference point of view, having a strict alphabetical or chronological order might have made certain artists easier to find. But I think that misses the point. This isn’t just a list—it’s an experience. It reflects how art itself often works: non-linear, richly layered, and sometimes delightfully surprising.
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So while it may not follow the conventions we’re used to, I find the design and structure of this contents page refreshingly bold. It’s a visual and curatorial experiment—and one that aligns perfectly with the spirit of the book itself: to spark curiosity, to inspire, and to invite young minds into the wide, wonderful world of art.

One of the most heartening surprises in The Art Book for Children was the inclusion—and more importantly, the thoughtful treatment—of Nam June Paik. As someone who deeply values the role of media art and global voices in contemporary art history, I’ve often felt that Paik’s contributions are either glossed over or treated as a passing novelty in many art books, especially those aimed at younger audiences. Too often, the story of modern art is narrowed to a predictable cast of Western painters and sculptors, with media artists and Asian pioneers like Paik relegated to the margins, if mentioned at all.

But this book does something different—and it does it beautifully.
Despite being a children’s book, it doesn’t shy away from the complexity or innovation of Nam June Paik’s work. Instead, it presents his artistic vision in an engaging, accessible way that doesn’t dilute its importance. It recognizes him not just as an eccentric with televisions or a quirky installation artist, but as a visionary thinker who helped define what art could be in the age of technology.

The fact that his page appears among icons like Picasso, Matisse, and Georgia O’Keeffe—not at the end, not as an afterthought, but right there as part of the core conversation—moved me. It shows that the editors understood something essential: that Nam June Paik’s work wasn't just interesting or unusual, but foundational to how we think about art in the modern era. He didn't simply respond to technology—he anticipated it, shaped it, and asked us to reflect on our relationship with it long before it became everyday.

For a children’s book to honor that—and to introduce young readers to a Korean artist who truly changed the course of contemporary art—is not just rare. It’s radical. It tells kids that great ideas aren’t bound by geography or tradition, and that pioneering creativity can come from anywhere.
As a reader, an artist, and someone who sees representation as a powerful form of validation, I felt genuinely joyful seeing Nam June Paik treated with the respect and visibility he deserves. It’s a quiet but powerful statement—and a meaningful step toward a broader, more inclusive understanding of art history.

One of the most refreshing aspects of The Art Book for Children is how clearly it chooses to emphasize technique and process, rather than simply listing artists in chronological or alphabetical order. This becomes especially clear in spreads like the one on Jackson Pollock. Instead of focusing heavily on biography or awards, the book invites children to explore what Pollock is known for—his method of dripping, splashing, and pouring paint, famously referred to as "action painting."
This emphasis on how the artist worked—on the physicality and emotion of his process—makes the art feel alive, active, and accessible. The bold heading, “SPLAT”, paired with the question “What a mess! Splotches, splashes, and dribbles of paint are all over the floor!”, isn’t just catchy—it’s educational in disguise. It teaches kids that art doesn’t always have to be tidy, representational, or traditional. Sometimes, art is movement, energy, and emotion. And sometimes, it’s on the floor.
As an art teacher, this approach is incredibly useful. When introducing students to different styles and methods in class, it's often much more engaging to start with the action of the art rather than the biography of the artist. A student might not immediately relate to “Jackson Pollock, American painter born in 1912,” but they light up when you say, “Let’s try dripping and dancing with paint, like Pollock!”
The book gives students a doorway into the creative spirit of each artist by focusing on their signature techniques. This is true not just for Pollock, but for others throughout the book—whether it's Yayoi Kusama’s polka dots, Nam June Paik’s video installations, or Claude Monet’s treatment of light and water. The artists are introduced as inventors of methods, and this opens up endless inspiration for classroom exploration.
So in that sense, The Art Book for Children isn’t just a picture book about artists. It’s a toolkit. A launchpad. A kind of visual syllabus for hands-on, experimental art education. It encourages young creators to try things, to feel, to move, and most importantly—to make their own kind of mess.

Personally, I truly hope more children’s books like The Art Book for Children will be made—not just in the future, but urgently, now.

In a world where children are constantly surrounded by fast-paced images and instant gratification, there is something incredibly grounding, almost radical, about a book that slows them down and invites them to truly look, feel, and wonder. This book doesn’t try to entertain with flashy gimmicks or quick stories. Instead, it trusts children with something far deeper: a conversation with art.

What makes this book so special is its respect for the child reader’s intelligence. It doesn’t water things down. It doesn’t assume that children need cartoons to understand Pollock’s splattered canvases or Monet’s shimmering waters. It simply presents the work—sometimes wild, sometimes strange, sometimes quiet—and offers a way in. It opens the door and says, “Come in. You belong here too.”

Books like this show children that art isn’t just about making pretty things—it’s about ideas, emotions, questions, experiments. It gives them permission to explore and express, even if their work is messy, strange, or unfinished. And in doing so, it plants seeds of curiosity and confidence that can grow for a lifetime.

Too often, children’s publishing is guided by what sells quickly or fits a familiar mold. But this book reminds us that children deserve access to the full richness of creative expression—not just simplified stories or predictable projects. They deserve books that challenge them, stretch them, excite them, and make them feel like art is not a subject on a school checklist, but a part of who they are and who they might become.

As an artist, educator, and lifelong lover of books, I can only hope we see more projects like this—books that are beautiful, brave, and full of possibility. Books that help children discover not just what art is, but what they themselves can be through it.
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Because when we give children meaningful art, we give them language. We give them vision. We give them the world.

Joseph Zbukvic is a highly acclaimed watercolor artist known for his atmospheric, emotive scenes. Born in 1952 in Zagreb, Croatia, Zbukvic later moved to Australia, where he developed his unique style. His works are celebrated for their mastery of light, loose brushwork, and his ability to capture the mood of a scene, often with an impressionistic feel.
Zbukvic typically paints urban landscapes, seascapes, and rural scenes, making skillful use of tonal variations, composition, and color temperature to convey mood and depth. His approach emphasizes simplicity, focusing on key elements to create striking, evocative images with minimal details—often letting the viewer fill in parts of the story.
A passionate educator as well as a painter, Zbukvic conducts workshops worldwide, sharing his techniques for achieving fluidity, balance, and luminosity in watercolor. He often uses a limited palette, allowing him to quickly capture light and shadow, which are central to his work's emotional impact.
Zbukvic's philosophy centers around connecting with the spirit of the subject rather than focusing purely on technical skill. He believes that the artist's emotional response to a scene should come through in the work, a principle that resonates with many in the watercolor community.

​Zbukvic is a watercolor artist that I like and would like to recommend. Above all, I think he shows the best level of expressing one's emotions and feelings freely, breaking away from the stereotypical frame. When I look at his paintings, I feel like I am a bird flying in the sky, a mysterious feeling. In this book, you can meet the process of creating his works, know-how, philosophy, etc.

Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks are some of the most remarkable documents in the history of human civilization. They contain a wealth of information on a wide array of subjects including art, anatomy, engineering, astronomy, and more. Da Vinci's notebooks are filled with sketches, diagrams, observations, and writings that offer insights into his genius and his approach to understanding the world around him.
These notebooks are not just artistic or scientific documents but also serve as a window into the mind of one of the greatest polymaths of all time. Da Vinci's interdisciplinary approach to knowledge and his insatiable curiosity are evident throughout his notebooks.
Many of Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks have been preserved and are housed in various museums and collections around the world. They continue to be studied by scholars and admired by people interested in the life and work of this extraordinary Renaissance figure.

​In his New York Times bestseller Steal Like an Artist, Austin Kleon showed readers how to unleash their creativity by "stealing" from other influencers and the Shaker community. Now, in an even more forward-looking and much-needed book, he shows us how to take the crucial next step in our creative journey: becoming known. I think this is a book that provides concrete methods and motivation for artists on how to build their brand image and make a living through painting.

​Where do you get your inspiration? What things do you want to fill your head with? What do you read? Where are you registered? What are your favorite sites? What music do you listen to? What movies do you watch? Do you appreciate art? What do you collect? What do you collect in your scrapbook? What did you put on the cork memo board in front of your desk? What did you put on the refrigerator? What kind of work did the person you admire leave behind? Do you have a hero in your heart? Who do you follow online? Who is an active person in your field that you admire?

It's worth sharing what has influenced you.

Because it gives people a clue about who you are, what you do, and sometimes even more than that.