Hester Bass: The Secret World of Walter Anderson

One of the really great things about SCBWI Conferences is getting to know other authors. Katie and I met Hester Bass at our very first SCBWI Conference three years ago. At that conference, Hester relayed (make that, shouted and sang) her Cinderella story of selling her book The Secret World of Walter Anderson to Candlewick Press.

Her book tells the story of the Mississippi artist Walter Anderson, and it is illustrated by the amazing watercolorist E.B. Lewis. The book is billed as describing "the most famous artist you've never heard of"--but for someone like me who has grown up in Mississippi, he's the first famous artist who's work I loved. I mean, really loved, deeply and passionately.

Walter Anderson painted many of his paintings alone on the islands off of the Mississippi gulf coast. He became one with nature and the animals, even acting like the animals at times to understand their movement and perspective. His artistic voice is unique in it's use of vibrating color and line, and he expresses Gulf Coast nature in a way that no one ever has or ever will again. I grew up going to these islands in my dad's boats, so Walter Anderson's work has personal meaning for me--especially after hurricane Katrina completely altered the landscape of the Mississippi Gulf Coast forever.

I love seeing Walter Anderson receiving national acclaim, and especially children being able to see his work on a national level (his work has been shown at the Smithsonian and there are books about his life written for adults--but this is the first time that his

story has been told for an audience of children).

He is the Van Gogh of the southern United States, and I'm thankful for Hester's persistence and belief in her dream to tell his story.

Here are a few picture's of Walter Anderson's work:

The gorgeous book cover painted by E.B.

Lewis:

And, Hester at my daughter's school where she did a fabulous presentation. The picture next to her is the name of the school (Bramlett) spelled out in Walter Anderson's alphabet that he designed.

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The "Unwavering Band of Light"

I love Kurt Vonnegut's book Breakfast of Champions.   In this book, a modern artist is one of the main characters, and he paints minimalist paintings featuring an "unwavering band of light" which represents all that is "alive and maybe sacred" in all of us.  The artist's paintings are simple straight lines painted on canvas.  

In my first novel Paper Tiger (okay, it's my only completed novel), the main character connects with a wacky and passionate art teacher who pushes her to explore her creative voice. Toward the end of the book, the teacher has her student create a sloppy, expressive collage.  Then she cuts a small window out of cardboard and has the young girl "frame" small, essential areas of her collage (using the cardboard window as you would the viewfinder of a camera). The girl moves the frame over different areas of her artwork until she finds one perfect curve of red sliced by a sliver of yellow.  Then, she creates a giant painting of this one small area--the essence of everything that she has learned over the course of a year.  The painting itself is rich and painterly--not a simple minimalist rendering--but it's structure remains that one curving arc.

I just read a great post by the Disco Mermaids in which Robin talks about the theme of her book which magically presented itself to her--kind of like Vonnegut's "unwavering band of light."  It's a tricky and often elusive thing to find--that essential thing that makes our artwork or book exist and breathe.  

I do believe that once you find that fundamental core in your writing, you can and should exploit it.    This makes the cutting and revising process so much easier, almost sublime--everything that supports the soul of your story should stay and be made stronger, while those extraneous plotlines and characters should be eliminated . . .but, you can always leave some Jackson Pollock splatters in there--as long as they give support to the story at its heart.  

(photo:  Onement 1 by Barnett Newman 1948)