Meet the cat in the pool hall
Nobody saw this on Mulberry Street. Dr. Seuss produced art for grown-ups
By Liane Bonin
Green eggs and ham, a cat in the hat and ... "unorthodox" taxidermy? If that last entry in the Dr. Seuss pantheon seems a tad "Silence of the Lambs" for your taste, take heart: Though "The Art of Dr. Seuss: A Retrospective and National Touring Exhibition" at the Sarah Bain Gallery in Brea promises to reveal the "secret" art of the famed children's book author, what's on display is simply grown-up stuff, not nightmare material.
Not surprisingly, Dr. Seuss, a.k.a. Theodor Geisel, had artistic interests beyond spinning fantastic tales for the rug-rat set. Though Geisel, who died in 1991, had a stint as a political cartoonist during the 1940s, his more adult-themed artwork stayed behind closed doors as his fame among children grew. Painting and sketching late at night, he thrived on being able to set aside the endless revisions his children's books demanded to create without restrictions.
"It was his dream to have it released, but he made a decision to not do it during his lifetime," says William Dreyer, art historian and curator for the exhibit. "He didn't want to conflict with his public persona."
That isn't to say the exhibit is adults-only; children were to be the honored guests Wednesday, when the gallery played host to a party to commemorate the artist's 101st birthday. The artwork that makes up the exhibit, which is traveling across the country until January, is hardly scandalous by today's standards.
To wit: There are a few busty cartoon nudes, some sly humor likely to fly over the heads of anyone young enough to be scandalized by it and, in "Cat From the Wrong Side of the Tracks," a feline that puffs a cigarette while playing billiards.
"We have had a lot of people surprised to see Seuss has smoking in his pieces," gallery owner Sally Waranch says. "But there are a lot of things people are going to be surprised about."
Seuss devotees who can look past a few scantily clad sketches may be interested to see that Geisel not only experimented with mediums other than pen and ink (such as watercolor and oils), but also tried on different styles as well, dabbling in Dali-esque Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism and Impressionism. "He was a cultural sponge," Dreyer says. "He really tried to reflect what was going on around him at the time."
But regardless of how much he borrowed from the trends of the day, as in his MC Escher-inspired "The Economic Situation Clarified" or the abstract "Archbishop Katz" (which depicts a cathedral as a jumble of jagged, colorful shapes), a Seussian sensibility is always evident. Cats and fanciful birds sneak onto canvases, and brightly colored curlicues spring up where you'd least expect them.
"It makes you understand that he never condescended to children, because the sensibility of his books and his private artwork are the same," Dreyer explains, noting that it was likely parents and not kids who picked up on the anti-fascist subtext of 1958's "Yertle the Turtle." "Seuss is Seuss through and through."
Even when it comes to, of all things, taxidermy. During the 1930s, Geisel's zookeeper father began sending his son the castoff horns, beaks and antlers of his animal charges, inspiring the young artist to use them in sculptures of mystical creatures sprung from his own imagination. "He was creating what he thought these animals would want to be reincarnated as," Dreyer says.
The results, mostly round-eyed and grinning creatures like the Semi-Normal Green-Lidded Fawn, are too cute to be off-putting, but Depression-era art enthusiasts apparently didn't see their charm. "Seuss tried to do a mail-order sculpture project trying to sell these things, but it wasn't successful," Dreyer says.
Nobody saw this on Mulberry Street. Dr. Seuss produced art for grown-ups
By Liane Bonin
Green eggs and ham, a cat in the hat and ... "unorthodox" taxidermy? If that last entry in the Dr. Seuss pantheon seems a tad "Silence of the Lambs" for your taste, take heart: Though "The Art of Dr. Seuss: A Retrospective and National Touring Exhibition" at the Sarah Bain Gallery in Brea promises to reveal the "secret" art of the famed children's book author, what's on display is simply grown-up stuff, not nightmare material.
Not surprisingly, Dr. Seuss, a.k.a. Theodor Geisel, had artistic interests beyond spinning fantastic tales for the rug-rat set. Though Geisel, who died in 1991, had a stint as a political cartoonist during the 1940s, his more adult-themed artwork stayed behind closed doors as his fame among children grew. Painting and sketching late at night, he thrived on being able to set aside the endless revisions his children's books demanded to create without restrictions.
"It was his dream to have it released, but he made a decision to not do it during his lifetime," says William Dreyer, art historian and curator for the exhibit. "He didn't want to conflict with his public persona."
That isn't to say the exhibit is adults-only; children were to be the honored guests Wednesday, when the gallery played host to a party to commemorate the artist's 101st birthday. The artwork that makes up the exhibit, which is traveling across the country until January, is hardly scandalous by today's standards.
To wit: There are a few busty cartoon nudes, some sly humor likely to fly over the heads of anyone young enough to be scandalized by it and, in "Cat From the Wrong Side of the Tracks," a feline that puffs a cigarette while playing billiards.
"We have had a lot of people surprised to see Seuss has smoking in his pieces," gallery owner Sally Waranch says. "But there are a lot of things people are going to be surprised about."
Seuss devotees who can look past a few scantily clad sketches may be interested to see that Geisel not only experimented with mediums other than pen and ink (such as watercolor and oils), but also tried on different styles as well, dabbling in Dali-esque Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism and Impressionism. "He was a cultural sponge," Dreyer says. "He really tried to reflect what was going on around him at the time."
But regardless of how much he borrowed from the trends of the day, as in his MC Escher-inspired "The Economic Situation Clarified" or the abstract "Archbishop Katz" (which depicts a cathedral as a jumble of jagged, colorful shapes), a Seussian sensibility is always evident. Cats and fanciful birds sneak onto canvases, and brightly colored curlicues spring up where you'd least expect them.
"It makes you understand that he never condescended to children, because the sensibility of his books and his private artwork are the same," Dreyer explains, noting that it was likely parents and not kids who picked up on the anti-fascist subtext of 1958's "Yertle the Turtle." "Seuss is Seuss through and through."
Even when it comes to, of all things, taxidermy. During the 1930s, Geisel's zookeeper father began sending his son the castoff horns, beaks and antlers of his animal charges, inspiring the young artist to use them in sculptures of mystical creatures sprung from his own imagination. "He was creating what he thought these animals would want to be reincarnated as," Dreyer says.
The results, mostly round-eyed and grinning creatures like the Semi-Normal Green-Lidded Fawn, are too cute to be off-putting, but Depression-era art enthusiasts apparently didn't see their charm. "Seuss tried to do a mail-order sculpture project trying to sell these things, but it wasn't successful," Dreyer says.