Angela Insegna is back as a guest contributor after only six weeks. What can I say? She had another good idea and I had to fit it in. You can read her earlier posts here and here. Angela is one of the people I go to for inspiration. The first time I reviewed a syllabus for one of her courses, it changed how I thought about the relationship between young adult literature and popular culture. Maybe one day we will have her write about she constructs a syllabus that deals with both. in this post, she talks about how art is valued in in the narrative of young adult literature. It reminded me of an article for The ALAN Review written by Connie Zitlow and Lois Stover entitled Portrait of the Artist as a Young Adult: Who is the Real Me. The project lead to a book, here is the link. Of course, Angela takes a new look at the topic. Hey Angela, any plans for a book down the line? Take it away, Angela.
| The best projects arise, unwittingly, from our teaching, don’t they? The one on which I am currently engaged arose from an unintended thematic connection between Walter Dean Myers’ Scorpions (1988) and Bridge to Terabithia (1977), by Katherine Paterson. In the former, we learn that “if there was any one thing that [protagonist] Jamal could do, it was draw” and, later, that he says it’s “fresh” when people stand around watching an artist work in the Village. Instead of noticing and nurturing his talent, however, his teacher asks him to perform menial tasks:
It is only when Jamal shows her the trees he has drawn on a piece of paper—evidence of his ability—that she says he can help when they draw foliage again. In Paterson’s novel, Jesse’s overworked father relies on him to complete chores on their family farm, all but ignoring that he too is a child who also needs affection and acceptance. When Jesse tells him he wants to become an artist, his father growls, “’What are they teaching in that damn school? . . . Bunch of old ladies turning my only son into some kind of a. . .’” Jesse, shocked into silence, does not mention his desire again, daydreaming about drawing as he milks the cows. |   |
My students organically noted the parallels between both artistic boys, which led to in-depth discussions about the inherent value of art and the portrayal of young male artists in these texts. Art was not the province of boys, who were to be more utilitarian, full of common sense, they noted. They spent a whole class period discussing ways that Jesse’s father might complete his sentence about what “old ladies” were doing to his only son. Art then became a gendered vocation, even though most of the touchstone figures in painting, writing, and music are men and both high school and middle-grades curricula situated under Common Core standards do not offer gender-balanced readings. More specifically, art and artistic endeavor in Myers and Paterson’s texts were gendered and determined by class. Jamal and Jesse live in socioeconomically challenged households. Jesse’s material concerns—his family cannot afford paper or “real paints”—indicate that artistry may be reserved for those who have leisure time and wealth. Jamal likewise thinks about acquiring art supplies for a special occasion like Christmas: “he would ask Mama to buy him some real paints, not like the watercolors that you got at McCrory’s. And a real paintbrush, too. . . . Maybe even two, a big one that was flat on the end and a little one with a point.” Both boys also, my students noted, have friends who encouraged them and responded positively to their talents: Leslie for Jesse, Tito for Jamal. These peers counteract the adult viewpoints, spurring both adolescents on towards refining their skills.
Following the Ariadnic golden thread of art’s representation in YA evolved into a project for me, especially with the advent of STEM programs which, at first, excluded art as a valuable province. Some discounted it because they assume artists cannot thrive in the marketplace. But for some adolescents in #YArt-centered texts, drawing affords much-needed escape from untenable emotional—not economic—situations. In Barry Lyga’s The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl (2007), Donny Marchetti designs his own graphic novel with the goal of attending a Comic Convention and presenting it to his favorite artist. His artistic outlet allows him to better handle school bullying, his parents’ divorce, his new “step-fascist,” and the widening gulf between him and his pregnant mother. Lyga’s text does not provide actual images alongside the conventional narrative, though the themes of using artistic endeavor as an escape and as a vehicle towards self-identity exist on every page of Donny’s tragicomic narration. Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007) also illustrates the importance of artistic endeavor for adolescents via the character of Arnold Spirit. In the first few pages we learn how Arnold views drawing, as he ruptures the novel’s ubiquitous humorous tone to state, “the world is a series of broken dams and floods, and my cartoons are tiny little life boats.” Like Donny, Arnold is bullied. Born with encephalitis, he is picked on because of his large head and small body. Cartooning provides him with an opportunity to share—and process—his experiences. Readers of this novel are the benefactors of 97 of Arnold’s images, drawn by Ellen Forney.
In two more #YArt novels, artistic production allows for survival in the face of traumatic events. In Ruta Sepetys’s Between Shades of Gray, set during Stalin’s Reign of Terror, 15-year-old Lina Vilkas’s family is detained by Soviet police and sent to Siberian labor camps. Lina, who had been preparing to go to art school, must now survive harsh winters and inhumane treatment. Because the family is separated from her influential Provost father, Lina resolves to use her artistic ability to get word to him of their condition. She draws on a handkerchief which she then passes to another in hopes that, eventually, her father will receive the message she has drawn on it. Later, for extra rations, Lina draws for one of the Soviet commanders. Her mother encourages Lina’s drawing, though it is dangerous to do so in the camps, because “the world has no ideas what the Soviets are doing to us” and the drawings she produces act as a living record of the events. Finally, her memories of the art of Edvard Munch sustain her during the crucible. For Lina, artistic endeavor is linked to sustenance, physical and mental.
In Brendan Kiely’s and Jason Reynolds’s novel All American Boys, Rashad’s artistic ability enables him to survive after he endures an unjust beating from a police officer. Rashad contrasts his life to that of Bil Keane’s Family Circus, since uses the familiar circle as his frame to provide a point of view. He explains, “the circle changes how you see it. Like what are we looking through? A telescope? A peephole? The sight of a gun?” Like Lina, Rashad also admires an artist: Aaron Douglas, of the Harlem Renaissance. To move through the trauma he has experienced, Rashad uses art. To provide others with a view into his life—a peephole, if you will—he draws. Thus, also like Lina, art provides Rashad with a way into and out of hardship.
Despite the central role they play in intellectual and personal development, the arts are under assault in the United States. President Trump proposed eliminating the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH), the Institute of Museum and Library Services, and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting in March of this year. While the House rejected the proposed eradication of these agencies, they did approve in July a $5 million dollar cut to the already-beleaguered budgets of both the NEA and NEH during fiscal year 2018. STEAM programs honor the arts, seeing them as integral to a well-rounded education and, more importantly, for harnessing the creative impulse. However, we must make certain not to see the arts as a stepping stone to the sciences as some STEAM programs may be tempted to do. Instead, art stands alone, inspiring and encouraging reflection or reaction.
Studying YA’s complicated representation of art, artists, and artistic production over time creates a panoramic snapshot of cultural attitudes towards artistic endeavor. Adolescents and teachers alike can ruminate on these depictions as they determine art’s position in their own historical moment.
What other YA texts represent art? Follow this golden thread with me by commenting here or using the hashtag #YArt on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook.
Studying YA’s complicated representation of art, artists, and artistic production over time creates a panoramic snapshot of cultural attitudes towards artistic endeavor. Adolescents and teachers alike can ruminate on these depictions as they determine art’s position in their own historical moment.
What other YA texts represent art? Follow this golden thread with me by commenting here or using the hashtag #YArt on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook.
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