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Showing posts with label E.B. Lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label E.B. Lewis. Show all posts

9.01.2015

The Negro Speaks of Rivers (2009)

Written by Langston Hughes

Illustrated by E.B. Lewis

Text set in Esta

Watercolor

Disney Jump at the Sun Books


Picture book writing sometimes seems like an exercise in brevity. Perfectly suited, in that case, for this illumination of Langston Hughes' powerful poem.

I sometimes think I have trouble appreciating poetry, maybe because I read through it too quickly, looking for an emergent narrative instead of slowing down to mull over every word choice and phrasing.

I had no such trouble with this book. I'm sure I've read The Negro Speaks of Rivers a hundred times, but I can honestly say that it never struck me as much as it did with this volume.

E.B. Lewis is a true artists. His watercolors evoke other times and places, but at the same time support a continuity, one generation flowing into another.

I looked upon the Nile and raised pyramids above it
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down from New Orleans

Those two lines, juxtaposed may seem jarring, but here they appear seamless, a reminder that everything is connected.

I noted that the river water was never the same in any two images. In some it is muddy, then green, then deep blue, then the golden hue which graces the cover.

In his Illustrator's Note, Lewis writes:

Water has played a powerful role in the lives of black people. It has been the boon and bane of our existence. We have been born out of water, baptized by water, carried by, and even killed by water. After nearly drowning as a child, I have grown to acknowledge and respect this awesome element. I still feel drawn to it - in fact, it's what I most enjoy painting. In many ways, my life is like this poem: water almost ended my life; but now, through my watercolors, it has cultivated the spring of it. 






6.17.2011

I Want to be Free (2009)

Written by Joseph Slate

Illustrated by E.B. Lewis

Watercolor

Text set in ITC Cushing

G.P. Putnam's Sons

"This poem is a retelling of a story in the sacred literature of Buddha about his disciples, the Elephant Ananda, as related by Rudyard Kipling in his novel, Kim," writes Joseph Slate, though you'd hardly guess it from a glance. The setting is very far removed from the world of Kipling. This is a story of African slaves fleeing their plantation and escaping to freedom along the underground railroad.

For complete authenticity, the illustrator, E.B. Lewis, made the journey from Kentucky across the Ohio river. "I imagined the dark nights when lives quietly swept across to the other side," he writes. "I toured the Rankin House in Ripley, OH, for the first time and stood still for a while to reflect on the risky and humane actions that helped free slaves during those times."

That is not to suggest that everything about this book is based on fact. There are several more fantastical moments, beginning with the very first page.

Before I die, I want to be free.
But the Big Man says, "You belong to me."

And then we see the Big Man, rising before the young slaves like a specter, his face covered in shadow from his wide-brimmed hat. His enormity is exaggerated. Looking at him is like looking at an unscalable mountain.

But its a mountain the narrator attempts to scale nonetheless. In another few pages, he's off through the woods, finding a cave by nightfall where other slaves huddle and hide. These nighttime scenes are incredibly beautiful and atmospheric, using just a few different shades of green, lewis creates an entire world of lush vegetation, ragged clothing and nighttime starscapes.

Big Man has dogs. He has a gun.

The salves flee in the night. One small child who had lost his mother is about to be left behind.

"Oh no," says I. "We'll run to the wild! The Lord will help me care fort this child!"

For the rest of the story, we follow the two of them fleeing together, all the meanwhile, the iron is still clasped firmly around the leg of the man.

One day, my child looked close at the rung.
Said, "Papa, papa, what is that thing?"
I told him the story of that dark, dark day.
He touched the ring. It fell away.
Tears welled up. Fell down from my face.
I saw my child lit up by grace.
"How, dear child, did you set me free?"
"I'm from the Lord. You cared for me."
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