I’ve wanted to write about Wanda Gág’s art and children’s books for years, but my affinity was too overwhelming to put into words. How could I pick one thing to focus on when there was so much I was attracted to? Plus, every time I tried to write about Gág’s art, I found myself writing about Gág, the woman—I couldn’t extract the two. Then I realized this was exactly what Gág wanted: unity between her life and her art. Why was I fighting it so hard? Still, I had to find a way to convey the connection. I contemplated many images and poured over her diary entries, thinking about art, about objects, about symbols and language. I collected fragments of oblique relations and put them beside each other, but there was no real argument, and to create one felt forced. Then I discovered Chloe Aridjis’s alphabetical portrait of the surrealist artist Leonora Carrington, for the London Review of Books. It showed me that I didn’t have to string together a story; I could compile episodic moments, words, phrases, discoveries, feelings—not arbitrarily—but through the constraint of an alphabetical sequence. And it turns out, there is a connective thread that weaves this list together: Gág’s attunement to rhythm. Her sensitivity and attention to the rhythms of nature, objects, color, and sound was dazzling and definitive—the absolute form of imagination. While this portrait is not meant to convince you of anything, or teach you about children’s books, I hope it produces an effect, and inspires you to learn more about Wanda Gág and engage with her work.
To echo Gág’s words she wrote in a letter to the famous photographer Alfred Stieglitz:
“I like much of what you are—and what you do—all one.”