Childhood was very good to Maurice Sendak - not his own so
much, but the childhood he gave to others. His books opened up new worlds for
children. Though it was sad to lose him last month, he left a great deal -
great in all senses - not a bad way to go at 83. Many of the children that were
his first audience are now grey-haired grandparents, but I’ll bet a little boy
named Max, dressed in a wolf suit, still lives in their hearts. Where the Wild
Things Are came out in 1963, the same year Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and
Betty 
Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique were published. As much as the others
Where the Wild Things Are caused an uproar – it was a time when the future was
challenging an outmoded mindset with a dose of hard reality. Librarians and
teachers vilified Sendak’s book, calling it dark and too frightening for
children, but the kids knew better, recognizing in the simple story of a child
struggling to control his own wild impulses the basic truth that childhood is,
in fact, darker and more frightening than adults own up to once they’re past
it. Sendak had a gift for taking childhood seriously – I’d call it his greatest
strength. Too many well-intentioned kid’s book authors think children and their
state of being are ‘cute.’ Sendak never made that mistake. His own
well-documented childhood in a family of Holocaust survivors (along with
ever-present specters of his family’s victims) gave him a front row seat on
dark and frightening, but combined with the 
ebullient humor and spirit ever
present in his work, his was a powerful, compelling vision. What isn’t always mentioned
with Maurice Sendak is how steeped he was in the traditions of children’s
illustrations – he was an original with a beautifully unique voice, but like
all great artists, he had a profound knowledge of and respect for his craft and
his predecessors. In The Juniper Tree, a collection of Grimm’s Tales (1974)
Sendak went directly to the source with a meticulous technique based on
European, especially German, engraving techniques. The Juniper Tree is a tour
de force of children’s illustration, very different from the bolder linear
drawings in Where the Wild Things Are 
and In the Night Kitchen, but with
Sendak’s signature faces, 
expressions, and gestures – deeply thought, a bit
troubling, and humorous, all at the same moment. The German connection in
Sendak’s work has been clearly noted, but there is plenty more from the broad
field of fine children’s illustration. Beatrix Potter’s anthropomorphic
animals, full of charm but no squishy sentimentality, John Tenniel’s seriously,
delightfully kooky world 
in Alice in Wonderland, Walter Crane’s gorgeous
command of line and composition,
Edward Lear’s goofy playful illustrated verses
– and plenty more, including Fritz Eichenberg,
an older contemporary. As a young illustrator Sendak must have been well aware
of Eichenberg, who fled Germany ahead of the Nazi’s in the 30’s and built a
significant career as a teacher and illustrator in New York. Eichenberg’s dark
brooding illustrations for Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights are one of my most
enduring childhood memories – when I encountered the edition as an adult I felt
the shock of recognition of a long-lost friend. Sendak 
and Eichenberg were, in
some senses, kindred souls, each a master with an affinity for craft and fine
careful work in illustration, divided and united by a common history. Sendak’s path
led him to lighter ground where his sense of play had full rein, not only in
books but in theatre and opera design. Spend some time with Where the Wild
Things Are and In the Night Kitchen and you’ll see that Sendak was always a set
designer – his books unfold with all the drama of a well-made play. He never
shortchanged children – he gave them the best, and his best was magnificent. The
work of a lifetime, and lifetimes before him, is in every line he drew.
At The Rosenbach Museum in Philadelphia "Maurice Sendak: A Legacy" Through May 26, 2013
https://www.rosenbach.org/learn/exhibitions/maurice-sendak-legacy
