Wonder-full
Bringing a sense of wonder to art. And life.
I’m working on sketches for a picture book and it’s caused me to go on a deep dive through old work. It’s amazing what some distance and time can do. I see things now that I’d do very differently if given the chance for a do-over. There’s ideas I should have pushed further and explored more robustly. But one thing I’m asking myself is why does an illustration “work?” What makes a piece of art captivating? That’s the million dollar question, one I struggle with.
But one idea I keep coming back to is wonder.
Wonder is a strange concept in the 21st century. I’m a fan of cars and penicillin and a whole host of other aspects of modern life. But sometimes I wonder if we have all of the facts, but none of the answers. I’ve been reading The Metamorphoses and at one point found myself smugly thinking how quaint that anyone could believe a tree was a woman changed by the gods. This was closely followed by a sense of sadness that I didn’t think of the world with such a sense of wonder. Granted, you still find glimmers here and there, with highways rerouted for fairies and such. But that’s the exception, not the rule.
When I look at illustration through the lens of wonder, things begin to click into focus. There’s the otherworldly vibe of The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. Anything and everything by Gyo Fujikawa. Aaron Becker’s Journey is pure magic. Emily Sutton’s illustrations in Many are proof that non-fiction can be mesmerizing. And while Treehouse Town was a gift for my niece and nephews, I found myself desperately wishing I could live in that sort of a locale.
In art, I’m trying to figure out how to bring more wonder into my work. I’m trying to look up more. And down. To ask, “what if.” To sit in silence. To ask seemingly foolish questions. Does the sky have to be blue? Is the imaginary friend actually real? Is the frog just sitting on a lily pad, or is it waiting for the 3 o’clock shuttle service operated by Turtle and Co.?
It’s time to open my eyes and look for the wonder hiding in plain sight.
I’d love to recommend Andrew Henry’s Meadow. I stared at that book for hours wishing I could live in the town the kids built.
My teens decided to do a Cartoon Saloon marathon (Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea, The Breadwinner, etc) and I found myself, like you, realizing I needed more wonder and joy. A re-enchanment, if you will. I don’t think I had realized how disenchanted I was feeling until they decided to do that…love the book recomendations too.