The Start of Something Big

On a chilly fall day in 1980, an unusual art exhibition opened in an unlikely gallery in New York City. The idea behind the show was radical at the time-that illustrations produced for children's books had merit and value as fine art, and that these works deserved to be seen in their original form, not just as reproductions in picture books. The show was called "The Original Art," and this November it will celebrate its 25th anniversary. Looking back, I am amazed at how much the exhibit has accomplished to bring children's book illustrators what they deserve-respect as fine artists and our thanks for using their talents to make reading a magical experience.

The exhibit was the brainstorm of Dilys Evans, an agent who represents children's book artists. Dilys convinced Dick Morrill, an artist and teacher, and me, then a publicist for William Morrow, to help organize the event. Dick, in turn, convinced Master Eagle, a consortium of printing and engraving companies, to let us mount the show in its sixth-floor gallery on West Twenty-fifth Street in New York City. Master Eagle's director of public relations, Clarence Bayliss, was intrigued with the idea of displaying art created for children's books alongside the books themselves. But he had one worry: Would anyone come to the opening?

He was right to be concerned. A show of this kind had never been put together before, and not all publishers were enthusiastic about participating. Tracking down original art, having it matted, then getting it delivered to the gallery-all that took time from already full schedules. But the packages began to arrive, and Dilys drafted several young artists to help us hang the show. One of them was David Wiesner, who would go on to win Caldecott Medals for Tuesday (1992) and The Three Pigs (2002, both Clarion).

Wiesner hasn't forgotten the pressure of mounting the show. "It was a frantic rush to get it done in time," he recalls. "And overseeing it all was our fearless leader, Dilys. Fielding a never-ending stream of questions from dozens of people, she managed to stay outwardly calm and handle all the last-minute emergencies. Through sheer force of will, she brought 'The Original Art' into existence."

"Frantic rush" was not an exaggeration. We managed to mat and hang the last two pieces of art 20 minutes before the doors opened at 5 p.m. on November 19. On display were more than 150 illustrations by 131 artists representing 50 children's book publishers.

"I remember that first show very well," says Leonard Marcus, a children's book critic and author. "To get there, you went up a grungy elevator and past a reception area lined with industrial-grade paneling. It was not exactly like a trip to the Museum of Modern Art."

But it was the beginning of something special. "I had just started writing about children's books," he recalls, "and I had begun to wonder why art magazines and museums paid so little attention to picture-book art. That question really puzzled me. So when the Master Eagle Gallery show came along, I was surprised and thrilled. I thought, well, here's a start."

On opening night, hundreds of publishing people-art directors, editors, production specialists, agents-filled the gallery, moving slowly from piece to piece. The illustrators who attended seemed almost stunned. "Dozens of artists had crawled out of their studios to celebrate each other," says Wiesner. "At long last, someone had recognized what we were doing. Here was a show for us!"

Emily Arnold McCully, another Caldecott medalist (Mirette on the High Wire [Putnam, 1992]), had a similar reaction. "The show was filled with old friends," she says, "and, unlike most other children's book gatherings, an exceptional air-the artists getting together outside the existing institutions to affirm the value of their work."

The show garnered other affirmations, too. Mayor Ed Koch proclaimed the week of November 19 "Children's Book Week" in New York City and urged people to attend the exhibit. In a thousand-word review, the New York Times called the show "unusual and bountiful."

"The Original Art" became a popular annual event at the Master Eagle Gallery. After three years, Dick Morrill and I went on to other projects, but there were always plenty of volunteers to help put the show together. In 1989, Master Eagle closed its gallery, and "The Original Art" had to find a new home. Dilys felt it belonged at the Society of Illustrators' Museum of American Illustration at 128 East Sixty-third Street in New York. She found an enthusiastic supporter in Diane Dillon, who with her husband, Leo, had won the Caldecott two years in a row-in 1976 for Verna Aardema's Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears and in 1977 for Margaret Musgrove's Ashanti to Zulu: African Traditions (both Dial). She was the society's president at the time, the first woman and the first children's book artist to hold the post. "There were a few people on the board of directors who believed children's book art was not a serious form of illustration," she says. "That has changed."

The society's board agreed to rent Dilys the gallery for the 1990 show, and Wiesner created a poster to celebrate the move uptown. "We didn't intend to make 'The Original Art' an annual event," says Terrence Brown, director of the society. "But the show was a stunning success. So when it was proposed that we officially take it on, it seemed a logical mix and a great addition to the schedule. It also fit with the mission of the society-to serve both the industry and the public."

Mounting a show of this size takes considerable resources-about $25,000, Brown estimates. Entry fees and hanging fees cover part of the costs. The remainder is underwritten by The Picture Book, a company that produces an annual directory of children's book artists.

Dilys has continued to play a major role in "The Original Art." Two years ago, she asked me to get involved again, which has meant observing the judging process, helping with PR, and talking to artists and publishers about the show.

Much has changed since the early days, but much has remained the same. The art is framed now, instead of just matted, and the show is a juried event, with gold and silver medals awarded for the best-illustrated books. It is a daunting process. Between 600 and 700 books are submitted by publishers. From these, the jury-made up of children's book artists, editors, booksellers, and other specialists-chooses no more than 25 percent for inclusion in the show. The judging is anonymous until the end, when the jury works as a committee to select the medal winners. The top prizewinners in recent years have been Peter McCarty (Hondo & Fabian [Holt, 2002], a Caldecott Honor Book); Peter Sís (The Tree of Life [Farrar/Frances Foster Bks., 2003]); and Gennady Spirin (The Story of Noah and the Ark [Holt, 2004]).

"This is the most difficult Society of Illustrators show to judge," says Brown. "The art has to be of a certain quality to be published in the first place, and it has to be consistently good throughout the book."

"The Original Art" continues to be very well attended. Drawing as many as 7,000 visitors, according to Brown, it's the most popular show the society holds, and it has become a fixture on the New York publishing calendar. It has prompted many illustrators to join the society, and it has increased visits by students at professional art schools. The students come on field trips from Parsons School of Design, Pratt Institute, Syracuse University, and Marywood University in Scranton, PA. Children from local public and private schools also visit each year to enjoy the art and storytelling.

The scope of the show has changed. In 1995, an annual seminar on children's book illustration was initiated. This year will see the inauguration of the Founder's Award for most promising new talent and "The Original Art" Lifetime Achievement Award, to be given to one living and one deceased artist in honor of their outstanding body of work.

The exhibition's character has changed, too. It has grown up. It has lost the haphazard exuberance of its youth. At 25, it is sleek, established, and professional. Some artists and publishers believe that the judging and the awarding of medals have made the exhibit more exclusive and competitive. A few have noted a certain insular quality to the selection process, with many of the same names showing up among exhibited artists, jury members, and award winners. But most would agree with McCully: "It's certainly the place to survey what's good, innovative, and enduring in terms of technique, media, and trends."

Computers are forcing us to revise earlier definitions of "original" art. "Twenty-five years ago," says Dinah Stevenson, president and publisher of Clarion Books, "a lot of artists were doing by hand what scanners do now, producing pre-separated art, with an overlay for each color used in printing. It's a very difficult technique, because there's no single piece of art and no way to see the final image till you print it. The interesting thing is, illustrations are now being composed on the computer, so once again there's no 'real' art, except the printout."

Computers have enabled illustrators to enter new territories, too. "The art continues to amaze me in quality and inventiveness," says Ted Lewin, whose illustrations made Elisa Bartone's Peppe the Lamplighter (HarperCollins) a Caldecott Honor Book in 1993. "It also seems to me there is a more entrepreneurial spirit-people creating their own projects, not waiting around for the phone to ring. Some of the younger illustrators have a lot of business savvy."

Yet one thing hasn't changed: good art is good art, no matter what the techniques or technologies. "Art still comes down to concept, vision, and the ability to translate that onto paper," says Dillon. "That is the challenge and always will be."

Is the art in children's books better appreciated today than in 1980? Joanna Cotler, publisher of Joanna Cotler Books, an imprint of HarperCollins, believes that it is. "There are many collectors in the field and beyond," she says, "and there are more outlets for showing work. Children's book artists garner a different level of respect now. Partly that's because children's book publishing has become such big business. And partly it's because the boundaries between fine art and illustration are more blurred-or there's less need for such clear definitions."

One of the outlets devoted to children's book illustration is Every Picture Tells a Story, Lois Sarkisian's gallery in Santa Monica, CA. Inspired to found her gallery by a visit to "The Original Art," Sarkisian recalls that some critics were slow to acknowledge that the work she displayed was fine art. "When Every Picture opened in 1988," she says, "we had openings where hundreds of people came to view the artwork. The collector base was growing. It was a fully alive field. And still it took the Los Angeles Times five years before they would list us as a fine-art gallery. They were much more comfortable with us staying under 'Family Activities' or 'Events for Kids.' But here's what I knew: Once the artwork had been seen, been examined, been felt, there would be no question that there indeed existed the fine art of illustration. I really didn't have to do anything but be a bit patient and let the art snobs catch up."

Many people have caught up with children's book illustration. "Exhibits of picture-book art are thankfully now a relatively common event," Wiesner says. "A well-established circuit of venues has emerged among children's museums, libraries, and art museums. There are even a couple of institutions whose sole purpose is to exhibit picture-book art."

Those of us who set out in 1980 to change the public's perception of art in children's books can only add, "It's about time."

The 25th exhibition of "The Original Art" will be held from November 2 to 23 at the Society of Illustrators, 128 East Sixty-third Street, New York City. "Then and Now: 25 Years of 'The Original Art,'" the first of four weekly panel discussions, will be held at 7 p.m. on November 2. For more information, call the society at (212) 838-2560 or e-mail info@societyillustrators.org.