An occupational hazard of being an illustrator is that sometimes you get called upon to illustrate books you don’t like. This was the dilemma facing Robert when he was asked to provide illustrations for a book of poems by an old school friend whose parents had been forced to immigrate after the war. Robert found that he was quite immune to the poems, which is to say that they made no impact on him at all. He tried to be impartial about them, and to imagine that they had bee written by a complete stranger, but no matter how hard he tried, in his imagination Jim Tate still appeared as the school bully, just as he had always been.
The poems, frankly, were terrible. Many were completely inaccessible. Of the others, some lacked impetus while others attempted to impose crude political beliefs on the reader. The incidence of foul language was also uncomfortably common. Tate had contacted Robert on impulse, after discovering that Robert had become an artist, but Robert had had the impression that Tate was really only trying to impress him and that the production of an actual book was incidental to his purpose. Authors often incline to the view that anyone would be proud to have the incredible privilege of illustrating their works, but Robert really felt no incentive to immerse himself in this rubbish. Robert decided that it was imperative that he turn Tate away from the plan, and therefore decided to implement a policy of choosing all the worst poems for the sample illustrations. He decided that he would incorporate all the most disgusting elements of the language into his pictures, hoping in this way to subtly impart to Tate the notion that he was not the right artist for the job. Implicit in this scheme, of course, was the premise that Tate could tell the difference between a good picture and a bad one.
After a week of fiddling with the picture, Robert invited Tate over to look at his samples. Robert was confident that if these pictures didn’t impair Tate’s enthusiasm, then nothing would. There were pictures of dustbins with rotting fish bones and grossly enlarged insect heads, piles of dog poop and so on. Robert himself felt sick when he looked at them.
Tate took the sheaf of illustrations and started to look through them. His face went pale and he started to tremble. “Robert.” He said, “You’re a genius! Just the man for the job.”
The poems, frankly, were terrible. Many were completely inaccessible. Of the others, some lacked impetus while others attempted to impose crude political beliefs on the reader. The incidence of foul language was also uncomfortably common. Tate had contacted Robert on impulse, after discovering that Robert had become an artist, but Robert had had the impression that Tate was really only trying to impress him and that the production of an actual book was incidental to his purpose. Authors often incline to the view that anyone would be proud to have the incredible privilege of illustrating their works, but Robert really felt no incentive to immerse himself in this rubbish. Robert decided that it was imperative that he turn Tate away from the plan, and therefore decided to implement a policy of choosing all the worst poems for the sample illustrations. He decided that he would incorporate all the most disgusting elements of the language into his pictures, hoping in this way to subtly impart to Tate the notion that he was not the right artist for the job. Implicit in this scheme, of course, was the premise that Tate could tell the difference between a good picture and a bad one.
After a week of fiddling with the picture, Robert invited Tate over to look at his samples. Robert was confident that if these pictures didn’t impair Tate’s enthusiasm, then nothing would. There were pictures of dustbins with rotting fish bones and grossly enlarged insect heads, piles of dog poop and so on. Robert himself felt sick when he looked at them.
Tate took the sheaf of illustrations and started to look through them. His face went pale and he started to tremble. “Robert.” He said, “You’re a genius! Just the man for the job.”