"Brian Wildsmith from Yorkshire" as introduction may conjure images of a rough Heathcliff type swinging a frenzied anvil. Nothing is further from the truth. The subject is a genial, Hobbit-like book-illustrator who has enchanted imaginations for decades. With 166 original paintings revealing his unlimited, benign and humorous imagination, a most unusual summer treat for Taiwan's young at heart has opened at Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts (KMFA) till mid-August.
The works hail not from the UK where Oxford University Press publishes them, nor from Castellaras, France where the Wildsmith family live, but from the Brian Wildsmith Museum in Izukogen, Japan, founded in 1994 to preserve and display his illustrations of famous European fairy tales, nursery rhymes and learning aids.
The show is an overseas stopover arranged by Tokyo Fuji Museum whose founder, IKEDA Daisaku (
In Kaohsiung, you will find samples of Wildsmith's early works like the ABC book (1962), reflective of Slade School training with its rich, unctuous and passionate colors glowing from a deep purple ground.
But once he headed full tilt to do children's books, Wildsmith's colors take on a new transparency affording mutability, mystery and subtle emotional shifts denied opacity.
An accomplished draughtsman, he often handles a huge cast, be they umpteen children in a classroom, a fortified citadel and the teeming countryside around it burgeoning with wild poppies, sheep and goats, or a bustling townscape whose motor traffic is stalled by a donkey reluctant to draw his cart any further.
We can peek into nooks and crannies and discover yet more, often gentle sight-gags that fill Wildsmith's world not only with exciting details but with chuckling humor that courses through all his narratives.
There are individual up-close portraits, too, when Lazy Bear is having a second thought, or when Red Squirrel is napping luxuriously wrapped in his huge furry tail, deep in a burrow filled with fluff of dreams.
The wonder of Wildsmith's imagery is his untrammelled reach: where a penguin lifts up a rhino with just one finger or when a gaping hippo finds himself inside the lower jaw of a flying pelican. Wildsmith wants to show children (of all ages) that anything is possible, once we take up pencil and paper and let our inner self take flight.
When Wildsmith illustrates Ikeda's stories, he goes on a cultural journey. People have Japanese names (albeit still wearing Wildsmith colors), live in wooden houses and sleep on the floor, and animals now include the raccoon-like tanuki -- beloved protagonist of many Japanese folktales -- who, like the English badger, live in large burrows beneath tree roots.
Here the colors become more transparent and blush in pastels, and subtle references to traditional Japanese painting techniques and motifs make a delightful addition to Wildsmith's already extraordinary repertoire.
The familiar color droplets sprinkled like stardust, in Japanese stories resemble kirigane -- tiny cut gold and silver foil sprinkled into cloud forms to quicken the emotions of a painted scene. In Princess in the Moon (1992), they cascade down a Milky Way spinning with planets and stars, looking like confetti, but resembling cut-shapes with straight edges.
Most amazing are the wild swans taking off from swampy marshes in The Snow Country(1990). Evoking magnificent Rimpa masters Sutatsu (
Exhibition notes:
What: Fantasia: Brian Wildsmith and His World of Illustrations and Picture Books.
When: Until Aug. 15.
Where: Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts, Galleries 303 to 304, at 804, Meishuguan Road (
Last week Joseph Nye, the well-known China scholar, wrote on the Australian Strategic Policy Institute’s website about how war over Taiwan might be averted. He noted that years ago he was on a team that met with then-president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁), “whose previous ‘unofficial’ visit to the US had caused a crisis in which China fired missiles into the sea and the US deployed carriers off the coast of Taiwan.” Yes, that’s right, mighty Chen caused that crisis all by himself. Neither the US nor the People’s Republic of China (PRC) exercised any agency. Nye then nostalgically invoked the comical specter
April 15 to April 21 Yang Kui (楊逵) was horrified as he drove past trucks, oxcarts and trolleys loaded with coffins on his way to Tuntzechiao (屯子腳), which he heard had been completely destroyed. The friend he came to check on was safe, but most residents were suffering in the town hit the hardest by the 7.1-magnitude Hsinchu-Taichung Earthquake on April 21, 1935. It remains the deadliest in Taiwan’s recorded history, claiming around 3,300 lives and injuring nearly 12,000. The disaster completely flattened roughly 18,000 houses and damaged countless more. The social activist and
Over the course of former President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) 11-day trip to China that included a meeting with Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leader Xi Jinping (習近平) a surprising number of people commented that the former president was now “irrelevant.” Upon reflection, it became apparent that these comments were coming from pro-Taiwan, pan-green supporters and they were expressing what they hoped was the case, rather than the reality. Ma’s ideology is so pro-China (read: deep blue) and controversial that many in his own Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) hope he retires quickly, or at least refrains from speaking on some subjects. Regardless
Approaching her mid-30s, Xiong Yidan reckons that most of her friends are on to their second or even third babies. But Xiong has more than a dozen. There is Lucky, the street dog from Bangkok who jumped into a taxi with her and never left. There is Sophie and Ben, sibling geese, who honk from morning to night. Boop and Pan, both goats, are romantically involved. Dumpling the hedgehog enjoys a belly rub from time to time. The list goes on. Xiong nurtures her brood from her 8,000 square meter farm in Chiang Dao, a mountainous district in northern Thailand’s