Ten writers for children. All with something to say.
Scrooged and being Ebenezer
As for being "Scrooged", I have led two lives as an artist and it was during the transition from one to the other where I was scrooged-- when I was the more vulnerable, of course. After college in California, I moved to NYC where I lived my twenties making art, hoping to get into a gallery, be discovered, perhaps even be invited into the Whitney Biennial?! I applied for grants, artist residencies, fellowships, and found some success and many rejections. Eight years later, I met my husband, moved to the midwest and continued to paint, sculpt, and show in local galleries and museums here in the Twin Cities. It was not a gallery dealer who scrooged me or a publisher, critic, or mentor, but a peer. With the tongue of a witch foretelling my future she snapped: "You will never be a serious artist because you got married and left NYC." That is all she uttered, but it hit me to my core. "Friends" in NY had told me the same thing, but I laughed it off, yet this time it stung. I was pregnant at the time with my first child, so there was no turning back and I was beginning to illustrate my first children's picture book, which at the time, did not feel like making "real" art. Tonight my first-born is coming home from college for the holidays. She is almost 20 years old. For the past twenty years, I have been "seriously" painting picture books and writing stories, sculpting and painting in-between deadlines. Perhaps in this person's eyes, I am still not a "serious" artist, as what I do now will never be in the Whitney Biennial. But who knows? Perhaps some visitor to the Whitney museum will will be walking through the galleries with their child in a stroller and that little girl or boy will tire of looking at the "new" art and instead read through one of my books pulled from the stash of books in the back of the stroller, as my children did on visits to art museums. And to this "peer" with her stinging tongue, I say: "Bah! Humbug!"