How Do the Illustrators, Wolf Erlbruch and Tim Burton

Rosemary M Barlow Creating Controversial Art: How do the Illustrators, Wolf Erlbruch and Tim Burton, deal with the sensitive subject of ‘Otherness’ in relation to mortality within their work, Duck, Death and the Tulip and Corpse Bride? I feel a particular kinship to the art and illustrations produced by Wolf Erlbruch in Duck, Death and The Tulip (Erlbruch and Chidgey, 2011) and Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride (Corpse Bride, 2005) and how they approach subject of ‘Otherness’. They do this through looking at the mortality, fragility and the suffering that comes with living in order to craft a believable atmosphere within their narratives. They create a world that lingers behind the shadow of reality and pulls the viewer through subtle technics of colours, challenging traditional stereotypes, and making the viewer question their own morality. Children as a whole are inquisitive beings who are continually wishing to find out more about the world that surrounds them. This natural curiosity is particularly apparent when the subject may be verging on taboo or they are aware that certain subjects, like death, can makes people uncomfortable. As a child, I always enjoy things a lot more when I know I shouldn’t being doing it, such as touching a hot iron simply because I had been told not to touch it, and suffering. Tim Burton and Wolf Erlbruch indulge their inner child by focusing on the taboo subject of death. This fondness for the ‘Otherness’ has carried through into my art, I have continuously been pulled towards darker subjects and I believe this to be my inner-child, craving the thrill of being scared or surprised. Jenny Colgan stated that given the opportunity ‘Children will always risk a nightmare as long as there is somebody there to soothe them when they wake.’ (Colgan, 2013). By allowing children to read about subjects such as death and isolation, not only do we give them space and freedom to roam in their imaginations but also make literature relevant to them and therefore preventing them from feeling as alone in their experiences. As Erlbruch states: No child is ignorant. That’s only what adults like to think, they like to have the edge on them. But it is in fact the other way round. Grownups live with so many restrictions, they just can’t fathom the intellectual depth of children. (Erlbruch, 2006:2) Erlbruch’s beliefs are clearly portrayed in his German published picture book Duck, Death and the Tulip (Erlbruch and0 Chidgey, 2011) where he presents the reader with a unique and simplistic 1 Rosemary M Barlow characterisation of death- making it more relatable to a child reading the book (See Appendix A for image of Death). The text is clear and does not patronise its readers but instead is thought provoking with the philosophical dialogue between Duck and Death. The text remains ambiguous about religious beliefs and thus reflecting the reality that no one knows what follows death, a concept which many adults struggle with. I find that within my own work, my language register often seeps through into my writing, causing the narrators voice to sound more adult. Erlbruch is not concerned with pandering to the readers level but expects them to simply have intelligence and does not undermine this. I write as I wish to read and would much rather be overestimated and struggle then be underestimated and be disappointed. The storyline follows the last days of Duck’s life and how she gradually becomes aware of someone with a skull for a head and a worn tartan robe following her. ‘‘Who are you? What are you up to, creeping along behind me?’’ (2011:1) Duck asks at the start of the book, ‘‘Good,’ said Death ‘you finally noticed me. I am Death.’’ (2011:2), suggesting that death has always been present and that it is an essential part of living. The Duck eventually befriends the companionless Death and talks to him about the common mythologies of the afterlife that is central to our human delusion of immortality, ‘‘Some ducks say that deep in the earth there’s a place where you’ll be roasted if you haven’t been good.’ ‘You ducks come up with some amazing stories, but who knows?’’ (2011:14). Unable to resolve the existential perplexity of the nonexistence, they return to the simple joys of life and climb a tree. When Duck dies it comes unannounced, except for ‘a chill’ (2011:21) in her feathers that represents the chilling new awareness of one’s own mortality, placed between an unredeemable yesterday and the inevitability of the morrow. Death carries her down to the river and watches as she floats away (See Appendix B). It is the visual equivalent to Elizabeth Alexander’s The Light of the World, ‘Perhaps tragedies are only tragedies in the presence of love, which confers meaning to loss. Loss is not felt in the absence of love.’ (Alexander. E, 2016) Meg Rosoff suggests because of ‘Erlbruch’s eloquence in the face of life’s most monstrous inevitability’ (Rosoff, 2009) the book will ‘occupy an important place in the literature of childhood long after today's bestsellers have been forgotten’ (Rosoff, 2009). What first enticed me to the book was how extremely aesthetically beautiful it was and is pleasing to smell and touch. The pages with their economy of words and white background, frames the minimalistic yet incredibly expressive illustrations; this is to ensure the reader is largely focused on the text (See Appendix C). Through the minimalistic style, Erlbruch also conveys the gentle and gradual ease that develops between the two characters, Duck and Death as they relax into their unlikely friendship. The tulip, visible as Death carries Duck down to the river (See Appendix A), offers a warm splash of colour in an otherwise neutrally book. Despite my own 2 Rosemary M Barlow work being composed of traditionally ‘bright, primary colours [that] are [preserved as the] most effective for the very young’ (Salisbury and Styles, 2012:113) (See Appendix D for own work) and which has been so disregarded in Duck, Death and the Tulip (Erlbruch and Chidgey, 2011), I feel drawn to Erlbruch’s ‘old fashion’ technic of cutting his characters and landscapes out of cardboard, wallpaper and brown wrapping paper. The characters themselves, Duck and Death are drawn using crayons and pencils, the same medium a child would use, once cut out and placed on their white pages the combination of different textures help to creates a completely unique experience for the viewer (See Appendix A-C for Images). I enjoy working with a wide range of materials, in particular textual mediums; mixing plaster and acrylic paints to create large impasto paintings and making 3D models to help me to understand my characters, bringing them to life and making the settings more visually engaging (See Appendix E). It could be argued that Duck, Death and the Tulip could be viewed as a form of vanity; that Erlbruch through denying the traditional vibrant colours from entering his book is drawing to please himself, rather then what might be deemed alluring to his younger readers. As a writer and illustrator, I am aware of the importance of specifying a target audience for marketing purposes but I am also equally just as reluctant to aim my work at one group in particular. For I believe that picture books and the illustrations within should be able to communicate and reach a wider readership, helping to guide adults and adolescents alike through difficult subjects, like death. Erlbruch argues that if a book’s illustrations and subject matter is able to ‘initiate a dialogue between parents and children […] in a more or less speechless society’ (Salisbury and Styles, 2012:123) then it has helped to create a freethinking individual with an imagination. Another artist that brings eloquence and subtle humour to life’s most monstrous inevitability is Tim Burton, who’s preoccupation with death and the need to engage with the ‘Otherness’ has generated him global acknowledgement. Mircea Cantor stated, ‘we look for transparency and predictability in everything these days. There is a lack of trust […] we want to prove, to know, to be certain […] we need the opposite.’(Cantor, 2008:21), Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride (Corpse Bride, 2005) creates the unexpected and uncertainty that we as the viewer secretly crave. Corpse Bride is a gothic stop-motion animation that uses heavy romanticism, stunning visuals and embodies Gothicism, in ways that force the viewer to confront uncertainties and creates a norm in the realm of ‘Otherness’ (death). The tale, Corpse Bride follows Victor Van Dort, whose family wishes to rise above their social class by marrying him to the Everglots (aristocrats whom are secretly bankrupt) daughter, Victoria. Victor upon bungling up his vows at rehearsal, goes to the woods to practise them; and upon saying them correctly, places the ring on a hand 3 Rosemary M Barlow shaped branch, which is the real hand of the corpse bride, Emily. Emily finding herself wed to Victor transports him top the underworld. I adore the controversial juxtaposition of colours Burton uses to separate the land of the living and the underworld, which I would like to apply in my own illustrations to help create atmosphere. His visual style is utterly unique and he knits together nineteenth and twentieth century European art aesthetics and American kitsch with perfect precision. The Gothicism is immediately prominent in the European Victorian influence styled town of the living through the use of washed out grey, black and white images. The colour palette consists of greys varying into pale cold blues, blacks and browns, which helps to create a negative, oppressive ambiance (See Appendix F for selected images).

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