The fourth in a series of ten lectures on David Wiesner: Tuesday (Part 2) – Where does crazy imagination come from?

Last time, we did a “speed read” of David Wies­ner’s mas­ter­piece, *Tues­day*, a work by the mas­ter of word­less books.This time, I’ll try to explore more of the sto­ries “behind” this book.

In the pre­vi­ous episode, I tried to tell the sto­ry of this book, rough­ly describ­ing part of the sto­ry I saw in the illus­tra­tions. As a near­ly word­less pic­ture book, every­one is like­ly to see dif­fer­ent things. David Wies­ner said in an inter­view that he has received a lot of feed­back from read­ers, and what read­ers dis­cov­er some­times sur­pris­es him. Artists often rely on instinct and intu­ition when cre­at­ing; they may not be think­ing much about it, but read­ers may read things that the artist him­self is not even aware of. This is nor­mal. When we read, we often see our­selves, pro­ject­ing our own life expe­ri­ences and inner feel­ings onto the work.

Okay, let me first talk about why David Wies­ner wrote this book, Tues­day, and why he made frogs fly.

The cov­er of Crick­et mag­a­zine

The imme­di­ate cause was actu­al­ly a coin­ci­dence. A chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture mag­a­zine called *The Crick­et* asked him to design a cov­er, and the mag­a­zine’s design direc­tor gave him free rein. It was March, coin­cid­ing with St. Patrick­’s Day, whose main col­or was green, and the frog was a com­mon motif. Per­fect! He decid­ed to draw a frog! So, he drew a frog sit­ting on a water lily leaf, but the leaf looked suspicious—it looked like a fly­ing saucer! Okay, he remem­bered the var­i­ous sci­ence fic­tion movies he’d watched as a child, like *For­bid­den Plan­et* and *The Day the Earth Stood Still*, clas­sic block­busters with fly­ing saucers. And then he had the frog sit­ting on a water lily leaf flying—didn’t that remind him of Aladdin’s mag­ic car­pet from *One Thou­sand and One Nights*?

Imag­ine this: the lotus leaves have been replaced by Aladdin’s mag­ic car­pet.

In his mag­a­zine cov­er illus­tra­tion, set against a back­drop of a pond on a full moon night, there are water lilies, a frog tak­ing flight on a lotus leaf, and a ter­ri­fied tur­tle… The next ques­tion is: Why do frogs fly? Where are they fly­ing to? And then what? And then what?… To sat­is­fy this curios­i­ty, David Wies­ner illus­trat­ed this book, Tues­day.

So, the real ques­tion is, why did David Wies­ner tell this frog sto­ry, and almost entire­ly through pic­tures? The sto­ry seems fan­tas­ti­cal, but it does­n’t seem to have much edu­ca­tion­al val­ue. What les­son is he try­ing to teach chil­dren? That’s the crux of the mat­ter.

David Wies­ner did­n’t intend to preach any moral lessons in this book; he sim­ply want­ed to cre­ate a book he’d always want­ed to read as a child, a book that was excep­tion­al­ly fun and had­n’t yet been writ­ten by any­one else. If you know about his child­hood, you’ll know he grew up in a very hap­py fam­i­ly, had a won­der­ful child­hood, and lived in an envi­ron­ment very close to nature. On one hand, he had a rich edu­ca­tion in art and sci­ence; on the oth­er hand, he had plen­ty of time to play with his friends in nature. *The Hur­ri­cane* is a per­fect reflec­tion of his child­hood. It was because of this child­hood that he became a curi­ous and imag­i­na­tive indi­vid­ual.

Hur­ri­cane (inner pages)

In terms of his draw­ing style, he par­tic­u­lar­ly enjoys dis­tor­tion. For exam­ple, see­ing an orange, he might draw it and even­tu­al­ly turn it into a sail­boat, which then trans­forms into a fish once it hits the water. So, see­ing a frog sit­ting on a lotus leaf, he can’t help but see it as a fly­ing saucer. He also loves play­ing with dis­pro­por­tion­ate sizes; for instance, in this book, the frog is zoomed in for a close-up, cre­at­ing a rather eerie and mys­te­ri­ous atmos­phere, does­n’t it? David Wies­ner wants to share the sense of won­der he often expe­ri­ences with chil­dren.

How­ev­er, although he start­ed illus­trat­ing chil­dren’s books imme­di­ate­ly after grad­u­at­ing from uni­ver­si­ty, for over a decade due to finan­cial pres­sures, he pri­mar­i­ly worked on cus­tom illus­tra­tions for edi­tors or col­lab­o­rat­ed with oth­er authors to cre­ate more tra­di­tion­al pic­ture books where the illus­tra­tions com­ple­ment­ed the text. David Wies­ner illus­trat­ed over a dozen such pic­ture books, employ­ing diverse styles rang­ing from real­is­tic to sim­plis­tic fairy tales to fan­ta­sy. He found him­self bet­ter suit­ed to the fan­ta­sy style, but his own cre­ative free­dom was lim­it­ed in sto­ries writ­ten by oth­ers. It was­n’t until his first word­less book, *The Great Flight of Dreams*, won the Calde­cott Hon­or in 1989 that he became con­vinced he could inde­pen­dent­ly cre­ate the kind of pic­ture books he had longed to read as a child.

In “The Three Lit­tle Pigs,” David Wies­ner had the pigs ride on paper air­planes.

You can think of Tues­day as a col­lec­tion of var­i­ous ele­ments that David Wies­ner loved grow­ing up, and you can dis­cov­er a lot by read­ing it from this per­spec­tive.

First, there’s comics. David Wies­ner belongs to the gen­er­a­tion that grew up read­ing comics. He favors cool visu­als and is adept at the visu­al sto­ry­telling style of comics. Although he draws pic­ture books, he heav­i­ly bor­rows from com­ic book tech­niques. For exam­ple, he might divide a page ver­ti­cal­ly or hor­i­zon­tal­ly into sev­er­al image blocks to depict a series of actions, like the frog tak­ing flight or the tur­tle on the drift­wood. Anoth­er com­mon tech­nique is insert­ing frames into large back­ground images to pro­vide close-ups of details.

The chase between the dog and the frog in Tues­day…

How­ev­er, the basic gram­mar of com­ic book sto­ry­telling is quite sim­i­lar to that of pic­ture books, as both use pic­tures to tell sto­ries and fol­low cer­tain com­mon con­ven­tions. For exam­ple, the sense of direc­tion: usu­al­ly, mov­ing from left to right on the page is the direc­tion of progress, and vice ver­sa is usu­al­ly back­ward. In this book, the frog army’s direc­tion is basi­cal­ly from left to right, giv­ing the impres­sion of advanc­ing all the way. In the fourth part, “4:38 AM,” the scene where the big dog encoun­ters a frog fly­ing low is par­tic­u­lar­ly typ­i­cal in terms of direc­tion. First, the frog flies from left to right, then the big dog sud­den­ly darts out from the right side of the screen, the frog grabs a lotus leaf to brake, and then turns and runs away; at this point, the direc­tion is from right to left. Turn­ing to the next page, the frog army comes to help, chas­ing the big dog away; at this point, the direc­tion becomes for­ward from left to right again. This sense of direc­tion is a com­mon con­ven­tion in visu­al sto­ry­telling, but pic­ture books empha­size the effect of turn­ing pages more; the pre­vi­ous page cre­ates sus­pense, and turn­ing to the next page may bring sur­pris­es.

Okay, let’s talk about the sec­ond type of ele­ment David loved grow­ing up: fan­ta­sy films, espe­cial­ly sci­ence fic­tion. As men­tioned ear­li­er, David’s favorite techniques—distortion and using dis­pro­por­tion­ate size com­par­isons to cre­ate mag­i­cal effects—stemmed part­ly from his pre­ferred sur­re­al­ist paint­ing style and part­ly from direct bor­row­ing from sci­ence fic­tion films. His view­ing of *2001: A Space Odyssey* when he was around 13 years old had a pro­found influ­ence on his life’s work. In *Tues­day*, the scene where the frogs arrive in town on lotus leaves direct­ly bor­rows from the space­ship shots in the film. So, read­ers can try to imag­ine them­selves mak­ing a movie, trac­ing these scenes, and imag­in­ing how they were “filmed.”

Com­pare: 2001: A Space Odyssey and Tues­day.

When cre­at­ing such works, David Wies­ner typ­i­cal­ly does­n’t write a man­u­script first. Instead, he con­ceives the image in his mind and then sketch­es it into a series of small drafts—the kind of sto­ry­boards or shot sketch­es often used in film­mak­ing and ani­ma­tion. To cre­ate a real­is­tic effect, he makes small mod­els, such as frogs or lotus leaves, sketch­ing them from dif­fer­ent angles and adding light­ing to achieve a very real­is­tic inter­play of light and shad­ow. For him, cre­at­ing such a book is almost like writ­ing, direct­ing, and film­ing a short movie him­self. If you’ve seen *2001: A Space Odyssey*, you know that the film has very lit­tle dia­logue; there’s not a sin­gle line in the first 20 min­utes. David Wies­ner has long desired to cre­ate visu­al nar­ra­tives that require vir­tu­al­ly no text.

Let’s talk about the third ele­ment he loved grow­ing up: draw­ing. His fas­ci­na­tion with art began at a very young age, but his inter­ests changed at dif­fer­ent stages. Ini­tial­ly, he adored clas­si­cal painters like Michelan­ge­lo and Leonar­do da Vin­ci. As he grew old­er, he fell in love with mod­ern artists like Dali, Picas­so, and Magritte. As you may know, the British pic­ture book mas­ter Antho­ny Browne also adored sur­re­al­ist painters like Dali and Magritte. He often paid homage to these mas­ters in his works. For exam­ple, in Antho­ny Browne’s debut book, *Through the Mag­ic Mir­ror*, there’s a pic­ture of choir boys float­ing in the sky. That pic­ture is based on Magrit­te’s famous paint­ing *Gor­con­da*, where a group of men wear­ing bowler hats float in the air. You see, in David Wies­ner’s illus­tra­tions, this scene becomes frogs sit­ting on lotus leaves, float­ing in the air! There­fore, look­ing at *Tues­day* from a sur­re­al­ist per­spec­tive, bor­row­ing a per­spec­tive sim­i­lar to Antho­ny Browne’s “shape play,” might reveal many new dis­cov­er­ies.

Inside pages of Antho­ny Browne’s “Through the Mag­ic Mir­ror”

The ded­i­ca­tion page for *Tues­day* reads “Ded­i­cat­ed to Tom Sculls.” Who is this per­son? Tom Sculls was a painter and a senior pro­fes­sor at the Rhode Island School of Design, who had a sig­nif­i­cant influ­ence on David Wies­ner’s art. David ini­tial­ly tried oil paint­ing in col­lege, but always seemed to strug­gle. Final­ly, under Pro­fes­sor Sculls’ guid­ance, he regained his con­fi­dence in water­col­or paint­ing.

To sum­ma­rize, Tues­day may seem unin­for­ma­tive, but it’s incred­i­bly fun and engag­ing, packed with engag­ing ele­ments. Per­haps its great­est strength is its abil­i­ty to spark young read­ers’ curios­i­ty, and the sto­ry’s con­tent large­ly depends on what the read­er dis­cov­ers with­in the book.

When it was first pub­lished, David Wies­ner was a lit­tle uneasy. He wor­ried that par­ents or teach­ers would com­plain that “this book is a bit scary” or “it fright­ened the chil­dren,” but he lat­er dis­cov­ered that teach­ers loved it. The main rea­son was that the book was per­fect for encour­ag­ing chil­dren to express them­selves. After all, there are no stan­dard answers in a word­less book; just say what­ev­er you see, with­out fear of mak­ing mis­takes. Grad­u­al­ly, many adults also loved the book. Pre­cise­ly because it has no words, every­one found their own mean­ing in the sto­ry. So you see, the less stan­dard the answer, the more it stim­u­lates peo­ple’s imag­i­na­tion, right?

That’s all for this book for now. We’ll talk about the next book in the next episode.