Gavin Bishop
Panel Session: Auckland, Saturday 20th May 2000
Cinderellas of the Art World?

When I was first told of this topic, I immediately reached for the Opies. That's Peter and Iona Opie - experts in fairy tales, nursery rhymes and children's folklore. And as I read their history of Cinderella I saw several parallels between Cinderella's predicament and that of children's book illustrators.

The Opies mention several versions of the story that we know as Cinderella. But it's the English translation of Perrault's tale, published in London in 1729, that we are most familiar with.

However, as a born and bred Southlander, I relate very comfortably to the Scottish version of the tale; "Rashin Coatie" "Coat o' Rushes"; where the protagonist's idea of having a good time and escaping her drudgery in the kitchen, was to go, not to a fabulous ball or colourful festival, but to church.

The framework of the Rashin Coatie story is familiar. A king with one lovely daughter marries for the second time. His new wife, an ill-natured woman with 3 ugly girls of her own, makes the king's daughter's life a misery. She is made to sit in the kitchen and wear clothes made of rushes. She is allowed only to eat leftovers.

Does this story so far have a bearing on our discussion today? Are the illustrators of children's books relegated to sit amongst the ashes in the kitchen while those who produce art for adults lounge in the dining room feeding off the accolades and respect of society and the adult art world?

In lots of ways this a fair description of the status of the illustrators in New Zealand.

I trained as an artist at the Canterbury University School of Fine Arts in Christchurch, in the mid 1960s. When I graduated with honours in painting, I painted and exhibited for a while, but when I switched my allegiance to picture book art in the late 70s I essentially committed artistic suicide. "Illustration" had been used like a dirty word when I was at Art School. The thinking of the time was that totally non-representational art was the only form of art worth doing. No subject matter at all was allowed and to think of making pictures for a children's book was too lowly to even discuss.

I wasn't bothered by this and my early and continued success in the field of children's picture books helped to quell most of my dissenters. But like Rashin Coatie I didn't do it entirely on my own.

You see, before her own mother died, Rashin Coatie had been given a little red calf, which provided her with anything she wanted.

Of course the stepmother soon found out and ordered the creature to be butchered. Rashin Coatie buried the bones of her little bovine friend under a grey stone. So, when Christmas time came and Rashin Coatie was not allowed to go to church with the rest of the family because she was too dirty and scruffy, she went to the grey stone and spoke to the bones of her little red calf.

In no time at all she was wearing a beautiful outfit and impressing the socks off a young prince at the local kirk.

As a fledgling picture book author and artist in the early 80s I received a lot of support from fellow children's writers and some very good editors. It was difficult to get Creative NZ grants though. If you applied in the "Visual Arts" category your application would have to compete with the so-called more serious artists who produced art works for adults. "Illustration" in the adult art world, even in a time of the resurgence of narrative art, was, and probably still is, a negative term.

If an illustrator or picture book artist applied for a grant under the "Literary" banner the same thing happened to them there.

I'm pleased to say though, that the bones of a little red calf lying under a grey stone somewhere in New Zealand has turned this attitude around in recent years. Picture book artists as well as writers for children have been receiving major financial support from Creative New Zealand on the same basis as writers for adults.

This hasn't been achieved by magic alone. A lot of lobbying and support from a wide range of quarters has made this happen. New Zealand's high international profile in the area of reading and reading recovery programmes has helped. And so has the international success of several NZ children's writers and illustrators.

Rashin Coatie left the church before the blessing and hurried home before the prince could speak to her. One of her tiny satin slippers slipped from her foot as she left. The besotted prince who found it proclaimed that he would marry the girl who fitted the slipper. The stepmother took her oldest daughter and forced the slipper onto her foot by cutting off her heel and toes, so the prince had to accept her. But on the way to the church to get married a little bird began to sing;

"Minched fit, and pinched fit,
Beside the king she rides;
But braw fit, and bonny fit,
In the kitchen nook she hides."

Now, trying to convince people that picture book art is something that it is not, has never been a concern of mine. Many insist that it is an art form that should speak to children and adults alike. I think those people are missing the point. They want adults to find the art in these books to be satisfying and challenging.

Why do people forget that most picture books are, on the whole, produced for children?

I think that wanting to see the illustrations in a picture book appreciated by adults is a plea for acceptance in the hierarchical and snobby world of art.

Sometimes, even sadder, are the vain attempts by picture book artists to make the grade in the adult art world. Like the ill-natured stepmother, in an attempt to appeal to adults, they reshape their work to include humorous detail or sophisticated art techniques that often go over the head of the child reader.

Actually, I think of a picture book as a work of literature.

A work of literature, where the pictures tell a story in combination with the text. Strictly speaking, I don't think that the pictures in a picture book should be considered on their own. That is, without the words. The pictures and the words should be inseparable.

The most important thing in a picture book is the "story". And the story in a picture book is told using words and pictures.

As in all of the 700 recorded versions of Cinderella, her suitor cannot win Cinderella until he recognizes her in her mundane and ordinary state.

She must invariably return home from the ball, festival or church and must resume her workaday appearance so that no one knows that she has been out. Thus, however much the prince may remember a vision of loveliness; it is essential that the royal suitor accept Cinderella as his bride while she is in her humble state.

In the literary world, as in the world of art, a definite hierarchy exists and picture books are often relegated to an inferior position. Writing and illustrating a picture book for children is not seen to be as important as writing a book for adults.

Why can't picture books be seen as a particular genre - no better or worse than any other literary form? They are different that's all, and like other literary forms such as poetry or novels for adults, they have their own conventions, traditions and a specific audience.

We've come along way in the last 15 or so years and I think that attitudes towards picture book art in New Zealand have changed. Even so, here we are today at a writers' festival, 9.30 in the morning still acting as the pre-game match for the literary heavyweights that will follow later in the day.

Perhaps we should we be thankful to be here at all?

But like Cinderella, children's picture book illustrators will only find "true happiness" when they are accepted in their real guise as creators of pictures that help tell a story that has been designed for a specific audience. An audience that without these stories, will never become part of the next generation of adult readers.