Open a bar and leave the children's books alone!
BarcelonaOne day, the Italian Bruno Munari, designer, artist, educator, and children's book author (and, in general, a pretty cool guy), explained to his students at Harvard University that when a good printer receives a new book, he looks at it very carefully, taking in every detail, from every possible angle. On the other hand, Munari continued, when readers pick up (we pick up) a book, they generally only care about the title, the author, the synopsis, and the price before starting to read. That day's lesson was entitled Everyone sees what they know., and it is precisely the title, in Spanish, of the first book by two great experts in children's albums, Piu Martínez and Anna Juan. In Each one comes what he knows (Gustavo Gili), the authors explain this lesson and take up the message of their admired Munari: the Italian showed that it's necessary to train the eye, to acquire some knowledge, in order to make readings that don't remain on the most superficial level.
Martínez and Juan know a lot about looking at and reading images. They present their book as "a guide to learning how to look at images through the illustrated album." Indeed, the album is the central element of the book, the support that they master, but even if you're not a reader (if you are, dabble, and you'll discover every detail), the book is interesting for the reflections it offers, because it opens up many topics and is pertinent to the world we live in: as Piu Martínez reminds us, visual culture plays a role. The bombardment of images is constant; images that construct discourses that can be dangerous, and that we must know how to interpret and question. Reading albums, being aware of the importance of images from a young age, helps develop a critical spirit that can become resistance. In this sense, throughout the book there is a vindication of childhood, or of childhoods, in the plural, as Anna Juan in particular insists on saying.
The book explains how there has always been a certain tendency to disparage children's books—"after all, they're for children—which they argue with conviction. envelops") or the wonderful Sister Corita ("If you're trying to learn to look, do it as a child would; as if it were always the first time"). The authors have this childlike gaze, evidently very trained, and the book is a celebration of curiosity and knowledge. It is also a vindication of play and aesthetic pleasure, and a book to buy or, as Piu insisted, to look for in libraries, "authentic democratizing agents." But the authors are also forceful about some aspects, such as the tendency of books to be used to explain certain things. Fernando Pessoa"Run away from utilitarianism!" And that obsession, among people who don't have a clue, with writing children's books? It seems like a lot of people are taking the plunge, but Anna Juan is clear: "Please open a bar or do something else, but leave children's books alone!" Amen.
