Friday, February 18, 2011

discovering new worlds: naturalists + children's writers



Did you know Edward Lear not only drew imaginary beasts but also real live ones? (Not so far apart as you might imagine.) He wrote wonderfully silly nonsense verse but was also a wonderfully serious naturalist.

The NYT has an interesting article in their opinionator blog about the connection between writers and naturalists: they are both discovering or describing new worlds. Both are explorers. One of imaginary worlds; one of real.

I've long been a fan of Lear's nonsense verse. The article in the NYT said it wasn't very "edifying." I've never much cared for that word. It's a smug and judgmental word. And it's  never good when it's approaching you in a sentence.

I have a different take.

Edward Lear's work is pure genius and as a 7 year old (when I was first given THE COMPLETE NONSENSE) it opened a whole new world to me. And changed mine.

Just the title THE COMPLETE NONSENSE for a start. Plus he wrote AND illustrated it himself--with pen and ink drawings that were not neat but all scratchy and messy with ink blots and looked like something you yourself could try (and I did). And the funny verse--with the limericks you felt you could have a go at too (and I did). It was exuberant, joyful, free.

I'd never come across a book like it. I didn't know it was allowed. To have that much fun--to be that silly--inside a book. I still don't always. And have to remind myself every day that it is.
Both as naturalist and children's writer/illustrator, Lear was dealing in the wild--but it is in his children's books, with his wild and free imagination, that he reached me as a child.

So I am grateful for Edward Lear. And his imagination. It freed mine.

If that isn't "edifying", then I am quite certain I want nothing to do with whatever is.

Monday, February 14, 2011

How do you spell love?

"How do you spell love Piglet?" asked Pooh.

"I don't have to spell it," said Pooh. "I just feel it." 

a a milne

Friday, February 11, 2011

snub nose golden monkey

Europeans first saw this far-fetched monkey in paintings and porcelains. But he looked so fanciful with his red hair-do and blueish stage make-up face, and no one had ever seen a real live actual one, so everyone assumed he was just a figment of Chineses imagination. 

Until, that is, he was "discovered" (well, he knew he was there all along, of course, but anyway) by 19th century French missionary and naturalist in China, Pere Armand David. He's also interesting. He went about in disguise. (See before and after pictures, below.) 
I'm not being rude but is it just me--or can you still tell it's him?

via interesting article 
(on what it means to discover a species--some say it's imperialist but couldn't it also be heroic...)
via NYT

 

 

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Wither into the truth: creating in old age

photo of an old writer: Leo Tolstoy
via NYT

Some artists keep on working late in life--and get better with age.

Others peak early and then fizzle out. 

Brooke Allen in the NYT writes, "Creative artists who continue to work late in life so often seem to undergo a sea change: a distillation, a new intensity, a sloughing off of excess and ornament in favor of deep essentials."

Who wouldn't want to be like fine wine and cheese and age well? Plus I'm very keen on this "sloughing off."

"Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth."
W B Yeats

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