The Emerald City, in All Its Colors
By GRACE GLUECK
Published: August 11, 2006
Amherst, Mass.
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Pennyroyal Press
“The Wicked Witch of the West,” a 1985 engraving by Barry Moser.
“The Wonderful Art of Oz” continues through Oct. 22 at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, 125 West Bay Road, Amherst, Mass.; (413) 658-1100.
Readers’ Opinions
Forum: Artists and Exhibitions
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George M. Hill
W. W. Denslow’s original title page for “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” published in 1900.
Enlarge this Image
Random House
“Poppy Field,” by Charles Santore, a watercolor included in a 1991 edition of “The Wizard of Oz” published by Jelly Bean Press.
CLICK your heels together three times if you know who L. Frank Baum (1856-1919) was, and why his 150th birthday this year should be celebrated. No? Well, as any Ozophile can tell you, he was the author of what is still one of the most popular children’s books in the world (eat your heart out, Harry Potter), “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” published in 1900. Even before the legendary movie starring Judy Garland was made in 1939, Baum’s creation had become a classic of children’s literature.
That’s reason enough to honor his sesquicentennial. So the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art here has mounted “The Wonderful Art of Oz,” a wonderful show tracking Oz-inspired artists, from W. W. Denslow, who drew the brilliant illustrations for the first edition, to more recent interpreters, including Maurice Sendak, Andy Warhol, Kiki Smith and Barry Moser.
Baum’s meeting Denslow (1856-1915), a versatile talent just beginning to achieve recognition for his book and catalog illustrations, was the break that helped make “The Wizard of Oz.” Baum, an entrepreneur with numerous interests and careers, had already published “Mother Goose in Prose,” a book of fairy tales he had invented for his children. But it didn’t attract much notice. He now proposed that Denslow illustrate a book of children’s verse he had gradually hatched over the years and printed on his own press.
With the aid of a small commercial publisher, the George M. Hill Company of Chicago, the two turned it into a beautifully illustrated volume, called “Father Goose, His Book,” that became the best-selling picture book of 1900. It established Baum, at 43, as one of the brightest stars of the day in the children’s field. But before it reached the stores, he later told George M. Hill, president of the company that bore his name, he was struck with an inspiration for “The Emerald City” (published as “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”), a “modern” fairy tale that would break the grip of the Grimm Brothers/Hans Christian Andersen stories and give children a happier experience.
The success of “Oz” was due as much to Denslow’s pictures as to Baum’s story, contends the show’s guest curator, Michael Patrick Hearn, author of the scholarly “Annotated Wizard of Oz” (1973, reissued by Norton in 2000). Baum knew that good pictures were crucial to a children’s book, Mr. Hearn writes in the show’s catalog, noting that John Tenniel was as responsible for the continuing popularity of “Alice in Wonderland” as its author, Lewis Carroll, was.
“Oz” became the best-selling children’s book of the 1900 Christmas season. With Baum and Denslow assuming printing costs, it was one of the most lavishly illustrated American children’s books of the 20th century, and its bold color work revolutionized the field, which had long suffered from timid design. “Oz” continued to sell into the new year, with the publisher producing nearly 90,000 copies of the original book.
Denslow’s sharp, witty drawings of Dorothy’s oddball companions have enormous charm, with expressive bodies and faces that mirror human attitudes, yet are funky enough to serve as foils for the square Kansas-bred girl and her dog, Toto.
Explaining the magnitude of his task, Denslow said he had to “work out and invent characters, costumes and a multitude of other details for which there is no data,” down to deliberately rendering the Scarecrow’s left eye as bigger than his right.
His perfect pitch is evident right from the title page of “Oz,” which shows the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman sitting on the boxlike logo of the book’s publisher, half-turning to face each other as they share a congratulatory handshake. The debonair Woodman, with his high, stiff collar; crisp bow tie; spats; and jaunty oil-can hat plays well against the sloppy, floppy rube Scarecrow, with his amiably foolish countenance and wisps of hay sticking out from his stuffed bag of a head.
“Oz” established Denslow’s reputation as the best illustrator of children’s books, and he had plenty of work, including a non-Oz book by Baum, “Dot and Tot of Merryland,” which didn’t do nearly as well. But the partnership with Baum soon went awry. The two fell out over who should receive more credit for their success, and their relationship ended after Baum’s reinvention of “Oz” as a musical extravaganza, a resounding Broadway hit of 1903 for which Denslow, its costume designer, demanded — and was grudgingly given — an equal share of the royalties.
Denslow went on to other projects, and Baum busied himself with “The Marvelous Land of Oz,” a sequel to the first book, letting his new publisher choose a new illustrator, John R. Neill (1877-1943), a talented young newspaper artist from Philadelphia. The second book was a winner, too, and established the long line of Oz volumes, which went on after Baum’s death. In all, Neill illustrated 35 of them, including a number by Ruth Plumly Thompson, Baum’s successor in the series, and 3 that he wrote himself.
The Neill illustrations for “Marvelous” and subsequent Oz books were highly imaginative, too, but lack the crisp presentation of Denslow’s work. They are a little too fancy for my taste, at least the earlier ones. “Drinking the Health of Princess Ozma of Oz” (1907), for example, a scene in which many figures toast the ravishing princess, looks almost as mannered as a tableau of an Arthurian legend.
A crucial difference between the two illustrators, I think, is that Denslow dealt with the zany story as if it made human sense; Neill dressed it up in party clothes.
Yet sometimes Neill outdid himself, as in his drawing of “Miss Cuttenclip,” a girl who rules a village of living paper dolls, for “The Emerald City of Oz” (1910). At a very early time he inventively used collage in the form of scattered bits of pasted-on newspaper strewn around the girl as she wields a pair of scissors.
There are a number of standouts in the show’s present-day entries, some of them based on the 1939 film rather than on the Oz books. Portraits of the Wicked Witch include Andy Warhol’s screenprint of Margaret Hamilton reprising the creepy laugh of her film role, from his 1981 “Myth Series,” and the illustrator Barry Moser’s harrowing black-and-white wood engraving (said to resemble Nancy Reagan deliberately) from his 1985 edition of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
Lizbeth Zwerger, a Viennese-born illustrator, spreads the witch out flat, showing her wearing a giant fringed black shawl and wielding a yellow umbrella as she gestures to a pack of wolves under her sway. Robert Sabuda provides a refreshingly new take on Baum’s original book in a pop-up version, whose maquette shows an imaginative vision of the cyclone and the witch’s castle.
There’s plenty of other beguiling material, including comic strips, costume designs and an homage by Eric Carle, the illustrator who founded the museum, in the form of his famous Very Hungry Caterpillar dressed as a Tin Woodman. Understandably, this lovely get-acquainted show only scratches the surface of a vast enterprise that could keep Oz green for generations to come.
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/11/arts/design/11oz.html?ref=arts
Published: August 11, 2006
Amherst, Mass.
Skip to next paragraph
Pennyroyal Press
“The Wicked Witch of the West,” a 1985 engraving by Barry Moser.
“The Wonderful Art of Oz” continues through Oct. 22 at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, 125 West Bay Road, Amherst, Mass.; (413) 658-1100.
Readers’ Opinions
Forum: Artists and Exhibitions
Enlarge this Image
George M. Hill
W. W. Denslow’s original title page for “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” published in 1900.
Enlarge this Image
Random House
“Poppy Field,” by Charles Santore, a watercolor included in a 1991 edition of “The Wizard of Oz” published by Jelly Bean Press.
CLICK your heels together three times if you know who L. Frank Baum (1856-1919) was, and why his 150th birthday this year should be celebrated. No? Well, as any Ozophile can tell you, he was the author of what is still one of the most popular children’s books in the world (eat your heart out, Harry Potter), “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” published in 1900. Even before the legendary movie starring Judy Garland was made in 1939, Baum’s creation had become a classic of children’s literature.
That’s reason enough to honor his sesquicentennial. So the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art here has mounted “The Wonderful Art of Oz,” a wonderful show tracking Oz-inspired artists, from W. W. Denslow, who drew the brilliant illustrations for the first edition, to more recent interpreters, including Maurice Sendak, Andy Warhol, Kiki Smith and Barry Moser.
Baum’s meeting Denslow (1856-1915), a versatile talent just beginning to achieve recognition for his book and catalog illustrations, was the break that helped make “The Wizard of Oz.” Baum, an entrepreneur with numerous interests and careers, had already published “Mother Goose in Prose,” a book of fairy tales he had invented for his children. But it didn’t attract much notice. He now proposed that Denslow illustrate a book of children’s verse he had gradually hatched over the years and printed on his own press.
With the aid of a small commercial publisher, the George M. Hill Company of Chicago, the two turned it into a beautifully illustrated volume, called “Father Goose, His Book,” that became the best-selling picture book of 1900. It established Baum, at 43, as one of the brightest stars of the day in the children’s field. But before it reached the stores, he later told George M. Hill, president of the company that bore his name, he was struck with an inspiration for “The Emerald City” (published as “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”), a “modern” fairy tale that would break the grip of the Grimm Brothers/Hans Christian Andersen stories and give children a happier experience.
The success of “Oz” was due as much to Denslow’s pictures as to Baum’s story, contends the show’s guest curator, Michael Patrick Hearn, author of the scholarly “Annotated Wizard of Oz” (1973, reissued by Norton in 2000). Baum knew that good pictures were crucial to a children’s book, Mr. Hearn writes in the show’s catalog, noting that John Tenniel was as responsible for the continuing popularity of “Alice in Wonderland” as its author, Lewis Carroll, was.
“Oz” became the best-selling children’s book of the 1900 Christmas season. With Baum and Denslow assuming printing costs, it was one of the most lavishly illustrated American children’s books of the 20th century, and its bold color work revolutionized the field, which had long suffered from timid design. “Oz” continued to sell into the new year, with the publisher producing nearly 90,000 copies of the original book.
Denslow’s sharp, witty drawings of Dorothy’s oddball companions have enormous charm, with expressive bodies and faces that mirror human attitudes, yet are funky enough to serve as foils for the square Kansas-bred girl and her dog, Toto.
Explaining the magnitude of his task, Denslow said he had to “work out and invent characters, costumes and a multitude of other details for which there is no data,” down to deliberately rendering the Scarecrow’s left eye as bigger than his right.
His perfect pitch is evident right from the title page of “Oz,” which shows the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman sitting on the boxlike logo of the book’s publisher, half-turning to face each other as they share a congratulatory handshake. The debonair Woodman, with his high, stiff collar; crisp bow tie; spats; and jaunty oil-can hat plays well against the sloppy, floppy rube Scarecrow, with his amiably foolish countenance and wisps of hay sticking out from his stuffed bag of a head.
“Oz” established Denslow’s reputation as the best illustrator of children’s books, and he had plenty of work, including a non-Oz book by Baum, “Dot and Tot of Merryland,” which didn’t do nearly as well. But the partnership with Baum soon went awry. The two fell out over who should receive more credit for their success, and their relationship ended after Baum’s reinvention of “Oz” as a musical extravaganza, a resounding Broadway hit of 1903 for which Denslow, its costume designer, demanded — and was grudgingly given — an equal share of the royalties.
Denslow went on to other projects, and Baum busied himself with “The Marvelous Land of Oz,” a sequel to the first book, letting his new publisher choose a new illustrator, John R. Neill (1877-1943), a talented young newspaper artist from Philadelphia. The second book was a winner, too, and established the long line of Oz volumes, which went on after Baum’s death. In all, Neill illustrated 35 of them, including a number by Ruth Plumly Thompson, Baum’s successor in the series, and 3 that he wrote himself.
The Neill illustrations for “Marvelous” and subsequent Oz books were highly imaginative, too, but lack the crisp presentation of Denslow’s work. They are a little too fancy for my taste, at least the earlier ones. “Drinking the Health of Princess Ozma of Oz” (1907), for example, a scene in which many figures toast the ravishing princess, looks almost as mannered as a tableau of an Arthurian legend.
A crucial difference between the two illustrators, I think, is that Denslow dealt with the zany story as if it made human sense; Neill dressed it up in party clothes.
Yet sometimes Neill outdid himself, as in his drawing of “Miss Cuttenclip,” a girl who rules a village of living paper dolls, for “The Emerald City of Oz” (1910). At a very early time he inventively used collage in the form of scattered bits of pasted-on newspaper strewn around the girl as she wields a pair of scissors.
There are a number of standouts in the show’s present-day entries, some of them based on the 1939 film rather than on the Oz books. Portraits of the Wicked Witch include Andy Warhol’s screenprint of Margaret Hamilton reprising the creepy laugh of her film role, from his 1981 “Myth Series,” and the illustrator Barry Moser’s harrowing black-and-white wood engraving (said to resemble Nancy Reagan deliberately) from his 1985 edition of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
Lizbeth Zwerger, a Viennese-born illustrator, spreads the witch out flat, showing her wearing a giant fringed black shawl and wielding a yellow umbrella as she gestures to a pack of wolves under her sway. Robert Sabuda provides a refreshingly new take on Baum’s original book in a pop-up version, whose maquette shows an imaginative vision of the cyclone and the witch’s castle.
There’s plenty of other beguiling material, including comic strips, costume designs and an homage by Eric Carle, the illustrator who founded the museum, in the form of his famous Very Hungry Caterpillar dressed as a Tin Woodman. Understandably, this lovely get-acquainted show only scratches the surface of a vast enterprise that could keep Oz green for generations to come.
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/11/arts/design/11oz.html?ref=arts
