The Hello, Goodbye Window

I picked up this picture book for two reasons: it won the Caldecott Medal in 2006 and the author is Norton Juster (author of the The Phantom Tollbooth!). The story was a comforting tale of a young girl who spends most of her days and some nights at her Nanna and Poppy's house. In their kitchen, they have what is called a 'hello, goodbye window'; you can look out and say hello or look in and say goodbye - or even vice versa. It's a charming story of childhood, in which anything is possible and the world is only full of opportunities. The inside back cover of the book notes that Juster is a grandfather. I found that to be so evident with his descriptions of the young girl. Reading this one sentence had me convinced that Juster truly understood what it meant to be so small: "When I get tired I come in and take my nap and nothing happens until I get up." What a lovely idea that the world stops completely while you are asleep! With simple wording, Juster also explores the deep relationship between a girl and her grandparents and life in the heart of the house - the kitchen.

Though while the text is simple, the illustrations are anything but. Chris Raschka is the illustrator of this picture book and has such a unique style that I had never experienced before. I remember in my response to Weslandia I had commented on how the colors ran together, but clearly I had no idea what I was talking about. Raschka uses watercolors in an almost abstract way that let's the reader interact with the pictures as he/she decides what the colors represent. Any black or dark dark brown used in the illustrations is drawn in my hand sparingly. The dark lines help define the watercolor illustrations, and it is obvious that they have been added after all the color. This is an interesting concept to me. When I think of drawing, I imagine creating an outline first, or some sort of guide for my coloring so that I can "color inside the lines". Chris Raschka seems to have flipped that process inside out, starting with the heart of a picture and ending with the definitive edge. My limited artistic abilities were blown away - I would love to see these pictures without the black lines, without the hint of a 'line' to color within. How much would my perception of the picture change? Would I see the same things? Would I know that the smudge of orange on the kitchen table was really a crayon if the black line was not loosely drawn around it? Probably not! I believe this book to be so deserving of a Caldecott Medal. The technique is not something I ever would have thought of or be able to duplicate. The illustrations are art beyond a doubt.