Arthur Rackham Illustration from "Undine" |
‘I can only say that I firmly believe in the greatest stimulating and
educative power of imaginative, fantastic, and playful pictures and
writings for children in their most impressionable years – a view that
most unfortunately, I consider, has its opponents in these matter of
fact days. Children will make no mistakes in the way of confusing the
imaginative and symbolic with the actual. Nor are they at all blind to
decorative or arbitrarily designed treatment in art, any more than they are to poetic or rhythmic form in literature. And it must be
insisted on that nothing less than the best that can be had, cost what
it may (and it can hardly be cheap) is good enough for those early
impressionable years when standards are formed for life. Any accepting,
or even choosing, art or literature of a lower standard, as good enough
for children, is a disastrous and costly mistake.’
Barbara was to find him a good father in all sorts of ways, a really
interesting and knowledgeable guide to books, museums, corners of
London, and so on – and of course always ready and eager to draw
anything and everything on demand. When as a child she ran into his room
in the morning, he would first feel on the bedside table for his
spectacles, then under the pillow for his gold hunter watch; flicking it
open, he would look at the time – ‘Too early – go back to bed for – er –
forty minutes!’ or ‘All right – in you come, Rabbits!’ He made a
complete stage set and characters for Cinderella for her German toy
theatre. He was fond of all inventive games, and never minded being
invaded in his studio, in fact people and conversation around him never
disturbed him while he was working. Barbara would often watch him at
work, sitting at his drawing desk, with a paint brush in his mouth while
he used a pen, or vice versa, making the weird grimaces of his
characters as he drew them – a fascinating performance for a child.
As a return for all this entertainment, Barbara, in course of time, had
to pose for her father. ‘Go on – get over there – bend over and pick up
an apple,’ he would say; ‘hold your skirt out with the other hand – put
your leg further in front, no, the other one – and now twist round
towards me and shake your hair over your shoulder – that’s it – now stay
still.’ And then, after what seemed an eternity – ‘All right, you can
drop the pose – but now get up on that chair and see if you can be
another child throwing the apples down from the tree.’"
To be continued
(Excerpts from "Arthur Rackham: His Life and Work" by Derek Hudson.)
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