(Art?)book of the Day: Counting with Wayne Thiebaud

Okay, this isn’t a traditional artbook, per se. I mean, most art books cost upwards of $60, have 100+ pages, and tend to come in at above a 1st grade reading level. This book meets none of those criteria, but, yknow, Wayne Thiebaud. ‘Nuff said.


It’s exactly as the title suggests

This book is just too adorable to pass up. So, even though I have managed to reach the age of 23 with the ability to count to 10 (still working up to 20- I’ll get there,) I still love this simple little book.


It’s kind of funny how well Thiebaud’s work fits in with such a childish concept. I call him a “painter’s painter” all the time, as the subtleties in his approach to everyday objects tend to be more readily appreciated by fellow painters. But obviously, his bright color palette, along with his playful subject matter totally fits with a children’s book concept.


*spoiler alert*

Thinking back, I realize that what I probably most remember from my favorite books as a kid is the artwork (I’ve talked before about my love for Leo Lionni’s charmingly simpleĀ  illustrations in particular.) What better way to introduce children to amazing artists than through a counting lesson? I don’t need to count to ten to know that Wayne Thiebaud is number one in my book. (Sorry, that was terrible.)


I Last Read: The Bluest Eye

Okay, It’s not really the last thing I read, but it’s the last book that I read that I was really blown away by. I had never read anything by Toni Morrison before, and now I wonder where she’s been all my life.

I read the book last semester as part of my Woman and Gender course, and I must say, having now read the book, I couldn’t think of a more engaging and appropriate novel for such a course. In my mind, the book perfectly encapsulates race, gender, and class in a way that is definitive but not manipulative or cloying.

The book takes place in the town of Lorain,Ohio in the 1940s. Given that the novel begins with a description of how a young Black girl named Pecola had given birth to a stillborn baby- the product of rape by her father, no less- establishes the bleak, brutal and unflinchingly honest tone to the story and Morrison’s writing. This is a book that will break your heart but really move you emotionally- beyond just “well, isn’t that sad” to something much more significant.

Given the feminist lens I used to read the book with, I basically saw the novel as an incredibly successful showcasing of conferred dominance and unearned privilege. Specifically, I saw Morrison using these concepts as overarching themes to illustrate how the misery and self-loathing of the two central characters of the story- the young Claudia and Pecola, although to differing degrees, is guaranteed by the environment in which they live. Morrison shows through inter weaved vignettes how Pecola is severely underprivileged and oppressed by the society in which she lives, a society that has thoroughly convinced her family, and subsequently herself, that she is ugly. As a result, she fixates on somehow acquiring blue eyes as a means to overcome her ugliness. This is no surprise, given that she lives in a world where blonde-haired, blue-eyed, white baby dolls are treasured above all others, and where Shirley Temple is the only example of girlhood beauty. As you can imagine, it doesn’t end well for Pecola. However, Morrison never demonizes those who lead to Pecola’s unraveling- there are no purely “good” or “evil” characters in this story.

I could go on and on- I already wrote a pretty lengthy research paper on it! Just read the book for yourself! Morrison’s writing is so… I can’t even describe. Every word glitters on the page.