Today at the Library of Congress ...

When I was a young child, my mother worked as the Head Librarian at a small branch library. The building was an old church and the upper levels were “off limits” because of structural issues. Each summer, my Mom would create a crazy theme for the summer reading program. When we were able, each of my siblings and I would volunteer time to let the very small kids read their weekly selections to us … well, at least a few pages. And of course, not a half hour went by without one young patron presenting us with a selection from the esteemed Dr. Seuss.

Dr. Seuss was the popular pen name for American writer and cartoonist Theodor Seuss Geisel. Born on March 2, 1904 … 107 years ago today … in Springfield, Massachusetts to German immigrant parents, Geisel created a signature style in children’s literature that has touched the lives and hearts of hundreds of millions of young readers. His style was bold and imaginative, and his unique use of rhyme and illustrative panache were both exciting and comforting to people of all ages.

Geisel attended Dartmouth College in the early 1920s where he was editor-in-chief of a humor magazine, the Dartmouth Jack-O-Lantern. He was caught drinking gin with some buddies … violating national Prohibition laws … and forced to quit his editorial job. But Geisel had too much to say and continued to have his work secretly published in the magazine under the simple name “Seuss.” After graduation, he entered a doctoral program at Oxford. Although he never completed the advanced degree, much of his work was simply signed “Dr. Seuss.”

After college, Geisel brought his unique humor and world view to a variety of tasks and careers. He worked as an illustrator for advertising campaigns for such businesses as Standard Oil. He produced more than 400 scathing political cartoons for PM, a New York City newspaper. And he submitted countless freelance humorous articles, cartoon strips, and illustrations to notable publications like Life, Vanity Fair, and The Saturday Evening Post.

Geisel also worked with and for the U.S. Army during WWII. In 1942, he helped produce posters for the Treasury Department and the War Production Board that supported the U.S. war effort. In 1943, he joined the Army and was made commander of the animation department of the first-ever Motion Picture Unit of the U.S. Army Air Forces. Geisel worked on several short instructional films and documentary pieces. One such piece won the 1947 Academy Award for best documentary feature. Geisel’s wartime work would earn another Oscar in 1950.

But the Theo Geisel … Dr. Seuss … we know and love was all about children’s books. His first was And to Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street! … one of my all-time favorites … but probably a few more popular titles include The Cat in the Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, Hop on Pop, Horton Hears a Who!, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Over his lifetime, Geisel authored 44 Dr. Seuss classics.

And “classic” was what these books were, defined by several unique style points. Although his early work was accomplished with pencils or watercolors, Dr. Seuss books are illustrated using the stark contrast of pen and ink. Most of Geisel’s illustrations were black, white, and perhaps two or three bold colors. Characters … whether people, animals, or imaginary combinations … tended to be rounded and “droopy.” This same soft styling was likewise applied to buildings, flowers, food, and machinery. Geisel also loved architecture and often drew elaborate buildings and backdrops that defied standard geometry. Two other trademark Dr. Seuss techniques were characters with long, interlocking fingers and the use of accent lines to create motion or to illustrate the use of the senses of sight and smell and hearing.

And, of course, there was the rhyming. In 1937, while on an ocean voyage from Europe to the U.S., Geisel was captivated by the rhythm of the ship's engines. While at sea, he wrote several poems and utilized the poetic devices of anapestic tetrameter (four rhythmic units, each composed of two weak beats followed by a strong beat) and trochaic tetrameter (four units per line, but one strong beat followed by one weak beat) to create a style of prose that draws the reader into the text … literally pulling you through the story in an amazingly exciting way.

But one classic Geisel twist you don’t hear much about was his subtle placement of his political views into his children’s books. A liberal Democrat, Geisel was morally opposed and very outspoken about the threat of fascism. He also felt that the dangers of communism were somewhat overblown and used as a scare tactic on the American people. Over the decades, Geisel managed to subtly share his feelings on environmentalism (The Lorax), racial equality (The Sneetches), the dangers of materialism and consumerism (How the Grinch Stole Christmas), and even present an allegory for the Hiroshima bombing and the American post-war occupation of Japan (Horton Hears a Who!).

On September 24, 1991, Theodor Geisel succumbed to throat cancer at the age of 87. But this man … our wacky, lovable Dr. Seuss … was honored in a myriad of ways. Libraries to this day prominently feature his works. To date, Geisel’s “Dr. Seuss” books have sold nearly 225 million copies and have been translated into 15 languages.

His books have additionally spawned a number of adapted-for-television specials that originally aired between the mid ‘60s and early ‘80s. Who amongst us hasn’t repeatedly watched “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” around the holidays? Move over Charlie Brown … my DVR is set for the Grinch! And of course. we have three feature films that retell the classic exploits of the Grinch, The Cat in the Hat, and Horton to modern audiences.

For his critical work, Geisel was awarded two Academy awards, two Emmy awards, a Peabody award, the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal, and the Pulitzer Prize.

In 1995, the library on the University of California at San Diego campus was renamed Geisel Library in honor of his contributions to the library and for his lifetime devotion to improving literacy. In 1997, an exhibit of Geisel’s other works … sculptures, prints, and paintings that he did for pure pleasure and which he called his “secret art” … was launched as The Art of Dr. Seuss Project. This exhibit toured major museums and galleries across the globe, allowing Geisel to be acknowledged along with the other great artists of history. In 2000, “Seussical the Musical” … a retrospective blend of characters and plotlines … opened on Broadway and ran for 198 performances before spending several years touring both the U.S. and Europe. In 2002, the Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden opened in Geisel’s birthplace of Springfield, Mass. And in March of 2004, the U.S. Postal Service issued a Dr. Seuss postage stamp to commemorate the 100^th anniversary of Geisel’s birth.

Today … March 2, 2011 … Theodor Seuss Geisel was honored as First Lady Michelle Obama read from his works at the Library of Congress as part of National Read Across America Day. This initiative was created by the National Education Association whose governing board specifically selected Geisel’s birthday as its national reading campaign showpiece.

POINT OF RANT: Your magic will never be matched, Dr. Seuss!

Today On The Drawing Board ...

I love "coffee table" books ... you know, the big photography books based around themes like modern art or churches or Madonna's early erotic forays or babies made to look like fruits and vegetables. I had an older aunt who had a stack of these hard-and-hefty tomes stacked under her very sterile glass and chrome coffee table.

My newest scheme is to quit my job, find a financial backer who recognizes my true genius, and create a scintillating series of "art books." My first project would be a book featuring all the courthouses of Ohio. I've travelled throughout a good portion of the state and the heavy-handed designs and materials of the older structures are truly awesome. Even some of the newer "replacement" buildings are impressive with their odd-and-unique mixture of modern elements and rural "sensibilities."

The state of Ohio became the 17th such designated entity on March 1, 1803. Carved from the Northwest Territory, Ohio derives its name from an Iroquois word ... "ohi-yo" ... meaning "great river." Indeed, Ohio is bounded on the south by the mighty waters of the Ohio River. But the state is better known for other reasons. Politically, Ohio represents a juicy morsel with 20 electoral votes and strong Democratic leanings. The "Buckeye State" has also produced seven U.S. presidents.

Ohio is often referred to as a "gateway state," meaning it links the Northeast to the Midwest. In fact, Ohio has a quantifiable uniqueness ... it is situated within a one-day drive of nearly half the U.S. population and about 70 percent of it's manufacturing and industrial resources. That is some powerful geography!!

But my interest lies in the scenery ... 44,825 square miles divided up into 88 counties. And each one seems to have a legal hub complete with slabs or granite, marble, and sandstone ... or newer angled facades with brick and chrome and glass block. Some are welcoming while others exude a foreboding feeling that is downright Gothic.

I think buildings can have such warmth and strength and even majesty while made of hard materials and cold surfaces. My book would also feature some interior photos of each courthouse as well as any early sketches or blueprints. And every featured building would have a close-up inset of the cornerstone. I really want to encourage people to take roadtrips and see the elegant edifices in person.

POINT OF RANT: I would never eat a salad or side dish served by Anne Geddes without thoroughly running my fork through it looking for rattles and "binkies!"

Today At A Framing Shop ...

My friend Stacey took a photo in my new neighborhood and presented it as a housewarming gift. She had it matted and framed, but ... without sounding like a douche ... it's really not my taste. And, although I love my new place, the neighborhood isn't going to be awarded anything by the mayor anytime soon. But a gift from a friend is a gift from a friend, so I decided to see if a different frame might be an easy fix.

I know framing can be expensive, but I decided to look at a local frame shop with a clear price "ceiling" in mind. I didn't get much further than the front of the store. See, there was this box of large prints marked "Great Art, Bargain Prices." And the only visible clerk seemed to be busy with another customer, so I thought I'd just work through the box to see what was considered "great" and a "bargain" in this place.

I knew it was mine the minute I pulled it out of the box and looked at it full on in all its cellophane-wrapped glory. Wheatfield with Crows by Vincent van Gogh ... painted the year of his death. It had been a favorite of mine since a barely-passed college art history course. The blues and golds of the painting seemed to vibrate ... both on the slide in that long-ago class and on the print in my hand. The work was also part of a series that was supposed to be views from van Gogh's cell in an asylum ... the guy was supposedly a serious nutjob!

I got the attention of another clerk who I hadn't first noticed ... an older woman who was really well-dressed, like out-on-the-town groomed. I was white knuckling the print, so I think she knew I really liked the piece ... or was hyped up on Red Bull. And so she told me a few things about the artist that I did not know.

The story of Vincent Willem van Gogh is not that of a typical world art icon. Born to Dutch parents in 1853, van Gogh was described as a serious, quiet, and moody child. Through a combination of Catholic education, home schooling, and boarding school (he was sent away from home at age 11), van Gogh eventually became employed by an art dealing firm and found success in both London and Paris. He was around 20.

van Gogh had always been accomplished at sketching ... a family "trait" accredited to a famous great uncle who was a renown 18th century sculptor ... so his love of art was genuine. He did, however, become jaded by the art world. His family was concerned with his brooding nature and odd bouts of depression, but supported his endeavors as best they could. At age 24, he left the art scene ... many say he was fired ... and flitted from a variety of menial labor positions and attempts at teaching. At around 27, he turned to his second love and another family focus ... ministry. van Gogh's father was a pastor, and van Gogh found a fulfilling job as a minister's assistant. Eventually he trained and tested to become a full pastor, but failed the attempt.

Not completely deterred, van Gogh became a missionary in a mining region in Belgium. To help pass the time and collect his thoughts, he began sketching people he saw in the community. It was at this time that he produced The Potato Eaters, his first notable work, at around the age of 32. He was also overheard during "fits of raving and screaming" and asked to resign from his mission work.

Disheartened, van Gogh returned to his family but within a year had moved on to Paris where he discovered the French Impressionist movement. He soon adopted many of their signature concepts such as the beauty of ordinary subject matter, brighter colors, very pronounced brush strokes, and the attempt to capture movement and light. These techniques became a cornerstone of the van Gogh we know today.

Over the course of the next few years, van Gogh moved about France (and much of Europe) and fretted with his art. He developed strong tendencies for drinking and smoking. And his battle with obvious mental illness continued at a frantic pace. At the age of 37, Vincent Willem van Gogh died from a self-inflicted gunshot would. He was largely unknown as an artist, with nearly 2,000 artworks to his name. Many were completed during the last two or three years of his life ... these would become some of his best known pieces and would secure him a position as one of history's greatest painters.

My print would be ready ... matted and framed ... in about three weeks. It was gonna run me about $260. The photo from Stacey went back home unaltered.

POINT OF RANT: Great art has no "ceiling" ... and I'm a pushover destined to live in debt.

Today At The Dollar Store ...

Probably once a month, I make a run to the local "dollar store" chain. There are about a dozen household things where I find little difference in the name brand version and the "inexpensive" option.

So I'm in line behind about a hundred people ... ok, five ... and only one of four registers is manned ... accurate accounting. I'm looking for things to fill my time ... looking for trash in my wallet, checking what year my driver's license expires, etc. ... when I start pawing through the gum, candy, and miscellaneous crap along Aisle #1.

And then I strike gold ... a "fancy" pen with a mini Etch A Sketch on top. I loved my Etch A Sketch when I was a kid. It was the first real "art" toy I ever received aside from crayons and markers. It was both frustrating and fantastic because your "art" was limited by the simplicity of the toy, and if you did you had to be so careful because of bump or shake and your masterpiece was ruined!

For those of you not "in the loop," the Etch A Sketch is a toy marketed by The Ohio Art Company (the Buckeye State strikes again!) that almost every kid had, either a new one or a unit passed from kid to kid like in my family. It is a hand-held toy that is a simple screen filled with aluminum powder. Simple knob controls ... one for a vertical stylus and one for a horizontal stylus ... allow users to create simple lines by displacing the powder, this producing a "sketchy" dark line. Images were erased by simply shaking the toy, redistributing the powder inside. The toy was made of sturdy red plastic, but over the years Ohio Art has marketed different colored versions ... I even have an anniversary edition unit made of high-polished chrome. It looks like something from Star Trek.

Ohio Art is actually pretty lucky to have the Etch A Sketch in its family of success stories. The concept was originally created by a French inventor in the late 1950s. Called a l'ecran magique, or magic screen, the inventor met with execs from Ohio Art at a toy fair in Germany in 1959 to present his product. The company was intrigued but passed on the invention. For some reasons, a few Ohio Art higher-ups took a second look at the unique concept. They purchased the rights and rushed the toy into production to make the 1960 Christmas shopping season.

Over the years, Ohio Art has attempted to update the Etch A Sketch to include color (six colors and the ability to produce hard copies of your creations) and even rudimentary animation (Etch A Sketch Animator and Etch A Sketch Animator 2000). But like many great icons of the baby boomer generation, the toy's original concept is much more popular than any technological add-ons and is what still makes it a great seller today. The Etch A Sketch is considered one of the 100 most memorable and creative toys of the 20th century by the International Toy Industry Association. And ironically, this week marks the 50th anniversary of some of the first Sketch units to go from factory to the hands of U.S. consumers.

I bought 14 of those damn pens because I thought they would make great gifts. I also purchased them because the Etch A Sketch has a very special place in my heart. When I got my first job out of graduate school at a newspaper, I pitched an idea for a feature on up-and-coming toy trends. My editor loved the idea and wanted ideas for collateral pieces. Well, I just happened to know a guy ... a good friend, actually ... who worked for Ohio Art. He got me access to two company vice presidents, a great tour of the facilities (before they relocated to Asia), and even hooked me up with an artist who created literal artistic masterpieces on this basic toy and then used an injected sealant process to freeze the images. You should have seen this dude's house ... Etch A Sketch "paintings" everywhere ... it was so cool!!

That little adventure got me two major features in the newspaper ... with bylines. And when I made the trip to The Ohio Art Company in Bryan, Ohio, I made a side trip to the Spangler Candy Company and met another new love of my life ... the Dum-Dum sucker.

POINT OF RANT: Sometimes ... only sometimes ... Ohio rules!!

Today At The Art Supply Store ...

I'm feeling creative ... that mood where you want to get out lots of pieces and parts and make a mess. So I went and bought three pre-stretched canvases. Big ones ... the largest is 28 inches by 60 inches. I also bought a few small brushes and a bag of seas sponges. I have tons of paint, rags, sealants, varnishes, and larger brushes, all in a box that I get out from time to time. Painting is a long-time hobby of mine ... I love to do abstracts that most people don't "get," and some of my landscapes and cityscapes aren't half bad.Buying canvas ... but I think being creative, for me, is something genetic.

My late father was a carpenter in a manufacturing plant. He was kind of a cross between a designer and a repairman, but it was his home workshop that really showcased his ability to see the potential in a chunk of wood. When he was deep in a project, he lost track of time. His hands were usually a mess and his workshop was peppered with sawdust. I think he taught me a valuable lesson - why clean up until the mess-making is over.

My paternal grandmother, my dad's mom, was a lyricist, although in fact she just liked to play around with words. But on a dare, she mailed her "word stories" to a magazine ad in Nashville and had three songs sold to country music wannabes ... I still have the vinyl records with her credits on the labels in a box somewhere.

My maternal great-grandmother was a poet. She was a small, severe woman who didn't speak about creative topics, but her imagery about the beach, nature, and farm life graced the pages of four different magazines in the late 1950s.

Her daughter, my grandmother, was a seamstress by trade for many years. She could look at fabric and imagine things that others just couldn't see. She was also scandalous. In the mid '50s, she was almost run out of her neighborhood by the other women when she altered several men's suits to be worn by the wife of a Chinese immigrant and local business owner. I think Grandma could have given Project Runway a shot!

My maternal grandfather was a crooner. He sang in all types of groups, and even won several awards in high school and performed as both a solo act and in a barbershop quartet at every county fair that would have them. He was good, so he performed throughout much of the state.

And last but not in any ways least, there's my mother. A self-trained artist. She once designed a condiment label for a local teen burger joint ... she used the $30 prize money to buy paints and an easel. She never got the chance to go to art school, opting for marriage and a family. I don't think she regretted that decision, but, when I was young, my mother took a part-time job as a librarian and used every opportunity to bring home books about painting, art history, weaving, printmaking, decorative arts, and more. She studied as much art as she might have if attending a proper college.

Later, my Mom worked in a print shop where the owner, recognizing her natural gift for design, taught her everything about the business. I think she did as much presswork as she did billing and reception ... the duties for which she was hired.

And in our house, there were always boxes of crayons and colored pencils, reams of paper, markers, glue, glitter, tracing paper, paint sets, glue guns, string and yarn, pastels, scissors and hole punches, ribbon and scraps of fabric, modeling clay, buckets of sidewalk chalk, cardboard boxes of varying shapes and sizes, rulers and protractors, sheets of felt, a woodburning kit, construction paper in nearly every color of the rainbow, and even a big sack of plaster mix from the hardware store. Supplies for arts and crafts were crammed into every drawer and cubby we had. I remember various relatives commenting lightheartedly that my mother wasn't much of a housekeeper, but I never minded. Neither did my siblings. We were the only kids on the block with a moat-surrounded castle made out of Quaker Oats canisters and popsicle sticks, or scary hand-painted monster figurines made from clay baked in an old toaster oven.

In my early teens, my mother suffered a devastating stroke. For about three weeks, it was a constant battle for her to just stay alive. I vividly remember the times when we children didn't go to the hospital and we nervously awaited for Dad to return with the day's "verdict." After months of hospitalization and therapy, she came home ... but her mobility and speech were greatly affected. With great difficulty, she was able to see me as the "Mayor" in my junior high musical. But she missed my high school art shows and other events involving me and my siblings.

I really wanted her to attend my senior design show in college, but the venue and logistics made it nearly impossible. However, my college experience provided some great bonding for my mother and I. Remember I said she liked to learn about all types of art. Every phone call to her or weekend home was filled with me recanting stories about classes and projects. She was outraged by some of my photography assignments, and extremely supportive during my rough brush with the potter's wheel. One Christmas, I gave her a duplicate topography text as a gift. She loved it and would mark all the typefaces she found especially interesting ... her leftover printshop days coming to the surface. From time to time, I would also present her with old pieces of lead type I'd find at flea markets and antique shops. She kept them all on her "special" shelf.

Toward the end of her life, my mother suffered additional strokes and health crises. The family eventually placed her into a nearby convalescent home for the ongoing care she required. I still talked to her about art and design, and when she died I secreted away all her lead type. These little things didn't mean squat to the rest of the family, but they were each representative of a bit of time that just the two of us spent together. I keep them in a box ... it still makes me sad to take them out, but oddly comforting to know I have them nearby.

Even though I have paint at home, I grabbed a big tube of crimson acrylic paint before I left the art store. Red was, after all, her favorite color, and I think my next painting will be all about her.

POINT OF RANT: Moms in all shapes and sizes are priceless gifts ... treasure them.

Today At The Art Museum ...

I took today off ... a Thursday. I could have asked friends of family members to join me, but I'm handling this adventure solo. With the car gased up and a quick breakfast stop at my favorite "royal" drive-through under my belt (literally), I'm on my way to Toledo and its art museum.

Not everyone can make a day of a museum, but the facility in Toledo is truly top notch, hosting world class exhibits and offering visitors a look at art at its finest.

There's nothing special I'm "after" today, but I always find something. In the past, the museum has awed me with El Greco and surprised me with murals by Picasso in his later years. And one visit had me captivated by the work of a retired microsurgeon from Michigan. It seemed that this gentleman was looking for some use for the expensive surgical tools he had acquired over the years. Being from Michigan, I guess he loved skiing and snow because he created hundreds of framed "snowflakes" ... the kind you make by cutting notches into folded paper. But besides a few traditional "flakes" and ski scenes, his work included detailed beach scapes, wrathful gods and goddesses from popular mythology, and even a crimefighting scene featuring Batman and Robin. I don't know how he did it!

Like with any art museum ... Columbus, Dayton, the Metropolitan Art and MoMA in New York, Art Institute in Chicago, etc. ... I tend to gravitate toward the Impressionists. It's the softness I think that attracts me, and the strong brush strokes. Centered around Paris in the 1870s and 1880s, Impressionist painters used bold colors with wet-on-wet application to blur edges and "play outside the lines." Also, because pigments had become available in lead tubes, these art-forward individuals could capture landscapes, still-life groupings, and even portraits outside. Impressionists such as Monet, Cezanne, Cassatt, and Renoir were said to favor painting in early evening when they could best visualize the battles between light and shadow.

I also love the post-Impressionist Pointillism movement ... Seurat, Van Gogh, Pissarro, and Cross ... where individual dots of pure color are arranged in patterns to create images comprised of hundreds of tints and tones. And modern art ... with its geometric shapes and loud splashes of color ... always sends me to the gift shop to rifle through a selection of postcards and not-always-affordable art books.

But I think the thing I value most about a trip to a quality art museum is the atmosphere. The quality of the air and sound is usually so hushed, almost reverant. There is a sort of comfort that patrons experience as they walk amongst the visual history or sit and stare at the interplay of shape and color. It's a "quiet" like no other.

POINT OF RANT: When you say to yourself "there's never anything to do," look up the stats on the various museums in your area.