Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art
125 West Bay Road
Amherst, Massachusetts;/br>
Through February 28
I DON’T REALLY LIKE GOLDEN BOOKS ALL THAT MUCH. I REMEMBER HAVING THEM WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY PARTICULAR OR FOND RECOLLECTIONS OF THEIR STORIES OR ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Golden Books that I best remember
are those by Richard Scarry, known for
the oversized “Biggest Book” series.
Mercifully, my daughter had no use for
them, although my son has recently
started bringing them home from his
weekly library visits. Initially, I was
excited at the sight of these oversized
volumes, until I had to read every labeled
object in them.
My preamble aside, “Golden Legacy:
Original Art From 65 Years of Golden
Books,” on view at the Eric Carle Museum
of Picture Book Art through February, is
a must see for aficionados for both the
historical value of the artwork and to
understand how far the art of picture
books has advanced since the launch of
the Golden Book imprint in 1942.
Golden Books were the first mass market
children’s books at an affordable 25
cents. The books played an important
role in greater children’s literacy and
were key in ushering in a more childcentric
American consciousness, which
bloomed with the writings of Benjamin
Spock and advocacy for early childhood
education.
As often seen in mass publishing of
the era, a prevalent style emerged
at the imprint and can be traced
throughout the show. Expressive
animals and dim palettes dominate
the earliest works from the 1940s
and are something of a Golden
Books trademark. Artists paint or fill
the entire page with work and drab
watercolor. One sees impossibly florid botanicals throughout. It’s almost
as if Golden Books artists worked
through a haze of cigarette smoke
and coal fired furnaces; in any event,
Technicolor, in all its glory, hadn’t
impacted this stable. I imagine that
they came from the black-and-white
world from which I once believed my
grandmother came.
Among the best-known artists in
the show is Garth Williams, who was
also known for his illustrations in the
Little House chapter books. I’m just
going to write this: Williams’s art
frightens me. His woodland animals
appear to have the texture of scrub
brushes with eerie, soulless eyes.
Even more horrifying is his cover of
“The Giant Golden Books Of Elves
and Fairies” (1951). I’d wager that
the boy on the front cover with his
parted hair and freckled countenance
is the inspiration for Chuckie of the
“Child’s Play” films. Being reminded of Garth Williams’s influence on childhood is
to know where nightmares come from.
Much space in the exhibition is also
reserved for Tibor Gergely. I have a soft
spot for Gergely, as his “Animal Orchestra”
has been a favorite of my kids. But it is
true that he was a lazy talent. There’s
not much attention to detail in his work,
especially for one whose pages were filled
with figures and fire engines alike. Perhaps
this comes from his background as a
Viennese caricaturist. Whatever the case,
his work really doesn’t meet the standards
of the modern picture book artist.
The serenity of the sea finds its
counterpoint in a number of bustling
urban street scenes. In particular, Donald
Stoltenberg’s “View from a London Bus”
is a blend of architectural exactness,
bolstered by its visible under drawings
and nuanced passages that merge the
graphic with the painterly. The scene
captures the mood and rhythm of a
busy afternoon street through realistic
abstraction.
However, amidst these works there are
gems. The best piece of the show is A.
Birnbaum’s exquisite illustration from
1953’s “Green Eyes.” A little gouache of
a cat and a barren tree in a snowstorm, it
foreshadows the coming movement toward
minimalism in children’s illustrated books.
It is simply perfect. Another of the
best pieces is among the most ornate:
Tenggren’s tiny masterpiece of a Persian
miniature (with an unmistakably phallic sword, I might add).
However, amidst these works there are
gems. The best piece of the show is A.
Birnbaum’s exquisite illustration from
1953’s “Green Eyes.” A little gouache of
a cat and a barren tree in a snowstorm, it
foreshadows the coming movement toward
minimalism in children’s illustrated books.
It is simply perfect. Another of the
best pieces is among the most ornate:
Tenggren’s tiny masterpiece of a Persian
miniature (with an unmistakably phallic sword, I might add).
The Golden Books did inspire a generation,
among them one of my favorite modern
picture book artists, Dan Yaccarino of
“Oswald” fame. In 2003, Yaccarino had a
little Golden Book of his own in “Mother
Goose.” His art, however, in its brilliant
colors and liberal use of white space owes
so much more to the Museum’s namesake
— Eric Carle — than the Golden Book
artists of yesteryear.