{"id":2060,"date":"2011-01-09T00:01:23","date_gmt":"2011-01-09T06:01:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=2060"},"modified":"2011-01-09T11:55:24","modified_gmt":"2011-01-09T17:55:24","slug":"7-imps-7-kicks-201-featuring-david-wiesner","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=2060","title":{"rendered":"7-Imp’s 7 Kicks #201: Featuring David Wiesner"},"content":{"rendered":"

In honor of tomorrow morning’s big award announcements<\/a><\/strong> from the American Library Association—I am inordinately excited to hear who the Caldecott winner and Honor winners will be—I am featuring the illustrator who is very familiar with the Caldecott, to put it mildly, and who, some argue, has a chance at winning it yet again this year, author\/illustrator David Wiesner<\/a><\/strong>. (David has been awarded three Caldecott Medals and two Caldecott Honors.) <\/p>\n

David had planned last year to come over to 7-Imp for an interview—and might still make it for a visit when his schedule slows down—but I decided to go ahead today and show some art from this 2010 title anyway, though I had been holding out for that Wiesner-visit. I had my best coffee mugs out, y’all. But, really, he’s welcome any<\/em> time, so let us carry on… <\/p>\n

The title I’m speaking of is … well, see here to the left? That’s Max, holding the very line an illustrator uses to tell us a story. Art & Max<\/a><\/em><\/strong>, released by Clarion in October, is a marvel. One of my favorite bloggers, Travis Jonker at 100 Scope Notes<\/em>, described it<\/a><\/strong> as “one of the more uniquely beautiful books of the year” and a “wonderful pick for introducing artistic media, styles, technique, and freedom in a classroom setting.” (Or, in the words of The Horn Book<\/em>, it’s a “visual meditation on the effects of illustrative style.”) This is true on all accounts, particularly the latter, as what Wiesner does in this title is … well, again, as Travis put it, he deconstructs the the idea of illustration itself. <\/p>\n

Picture a desert. Some lizards. The rookie, Max, is eager to learn how to paint and approaches the expert, Art, only managing to frustrate him, since Max’s definitions of art don’t quite meet the expectations of his more rigid-minded, more accomplished elder. (“{Y}ou could paint me,” Art tells Max, so Max proceeds to slather him with paint.) Eventually, things take a turn for the surreal and bizarro, as Art’s very physical presence becomes altered by the medium with which Max is experimenting. Needless to say, this is a book from which artists will particularly get a thrill, since—as Booklist<\/em> pointed out—Wiesner is mucking around with “art’s fundamentals: line, color, shape, and imaginative freedom.”<\/p>\n

Since it’s a difficult book to describe, this is where 7-Imp comes in with some art to show you. This is right after the moment when Max has brought Art a glass of water, yet all the colors drained from him after drinking it, leaving him as a mere line drawing. When Art tries to run away, the lines that constitute him fall away all together (seeing as how the spastic, nervous Max has grabbed hold of him), leaving Art as a tangled mass of line on the ground. Max decides to try to reconstruct Art. (Click each spread to enlarge and see in more detail. Really, you must.)<\/p>\n

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There’s way more trippy art-goodness than that in the book, too. It’s a must-see. <\/p>\n

Wiesner’s picture books are sophisticated, smart, and funny. This is no exception. Will it bring him a Caldecott tomorrow? Who knows. Is it lacking in the kid-appeal category? Will only art-nerd (and I say that oh-so lovingly) students really “get” the details? I know my own children enjoy it, but I haven’t tested it on a group of school children. I do know that what I love about Wiesner is his utter inability to talk down to children. He gives them whole heapin’ tons of credit, and this book is no different. He just doesn’t mess around when he makes books for children, now does he? He goes straight to Expecting the Best From Child Readers. (This getting-right-to-it is reflected quite literally in the exciting opening of Art & Max<\/em>. No time to waste, as Max comes enthusiastically barreling into the spread from the left on the very title page, almost knocking over Art, ready to make some—and learn about—art himself.) As for the Caldecott, it is, as Betsy Bird has noted<\/a><\/strong>, very much a wild card year anyway. (Did I mention how excited I am to hear the winners announced tomorrow?) <\/p>\n

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ART & MAX. Copyright \u00a9 2010 David Wiesner. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Clarion\/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, New York, New York.<\/em><\/p>\n

As a reminder, 7-Imp’s 7 Kicks is a weekly meeting ground for taking some time to reflect on Seven(ish) Exceptionally Fabulous, Beautiful, Interesting, Hilarious, or Otherwise Positive Noteworthy Things from the past week, whether book-related or not, that happened to you. <\/p>\n

* * * Jules’ Kicks * * *<\/strong><\/font>
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1).<\/strong><\/font> I’ve already said this an annoying number of times, but these are<\/em> my kicks, right? I’m very excited to hear the award announcements tomorrow, but particularly the Caldecott. (Do you think the winner will be one of these books<\/a><\/strong>? Of course, the Steads are too modest to include their own wonderful book<\/a><\/strong>. Anyway. I love that post of theirs.)<\/p>\n

2).<\/strong><\/font> I discovered this week a new (to me) band from Seattle, whose CD I immediately bought and proceeded to wear out. The Head and the Heart<\/a><\/strong> they’re called. It’s like The Avett Brothers meet The Beatles meet The Bee Gees. Sorta. Whatever. It’s great! Here’s a sample. It’s zippy-quick and short:<\/p>\n

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And because I love it when they harmonize:<\/p>\n

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And I know I mentioned Laura Marling<\/a><\/strong> last week, but man…is that CD excellent. I’m still playing it all. the. time. And this is one of the most beautiful songs I’ve heard in a long time. The typo in the video’s title hurts my brain. It’s actually “Goodbye England (Covered In Snow).”<\/p>\n

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3).<\/strong><\/font> I started reading an actual novel. For grown-ups. My reading habits have been seriously altered since I got a book deal and have to write at night (when kids are sleeping). But my unofficial resolution in the new year was to finish a good, grown-up novel. And not be so hard on it, which I have been lately. To stick with it. To forgive it if doesn’t WOW me. To finish<\/em> it. <\/p>\n

4).<\/strong><\/font> I finally saw The King’s Speech<\/em>. It is just as good as some of you kickers have previously said. My father has stuttered pretty badly all his life, so the film was moving in many ways. <\/p>\n

5).<\/strong><\/font> Even if you love and defend the weird social experiment that is Facebook (yes, I use it, too<\/a><\/strong>), you gotta love the very thoughtful musings on both its shortcomings and benefits that Jama posted this week<\/a><\/strong>. <\/p>\n

6).<\/strong><\/font> The return of the art class my girls take—after, that is, a temporary winter hiatus—is kicky, indeed. I think paying for them to muck around with art two Saturdays a month is the best thing added to the budget in a long while. <\/p>\n

7).<\/strong><\/font> The Guardian’s<\/em> music blog weighed in recently on why Gerry Rafferty was really quite punk after all<\/a><\/strong>. I was raised on a fairly steady diet of Rafferty’s music. May he rest in peace. <\/p>\n

Also, speaking of resting in peace, goodbye to author Dick King-Smith<\/a><\/strong>. (Hardly a kick, but I pay my respects here nonetheless.)<\/p>\n

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That’s about it this week. But here a few announcements I promised to share with my readers:<\/p>\n