THEO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! . . .

By S’zanne M’Chel

When I attended the opening reception of the Dr. Seuss exhibit at Carthage on Friday, I was expecting the ever popular and once familiar characters from my offspring’s childhood bedtime stories. (Okay, maybe not their bedtime stories, as the cadence with which one must read Dr. Seuss does not induce sleep in children.) A Cat in a hat, some Wockets for my pockets, one Horton and his multitude of Who’s, some Sneeches and a Grumpy Grinch. What I didn’t expect was to see artwork of an adult nature more in line with those Seven Lady Godivas in Mom’s section of the library. This was most definitely NOT my children’s Theodor Seuss Geisel!

I was not there in time to catch the presentation at 5:00pm, nor the guided tours offered throughout the evening, wishing instead to view the pieces uninfluenced by someone else’s interpretation of the works. I will probably regret that decision at some point, because from the snippets of conversation I was hearing from those corners of the room, it was most entertaining and enlightening. But I was committed to my solo course, and remained steadily on it.

There was the classic cat we all know and love. Sporting his hat and striking his traditional jaunty stance, leading with his umbrella and flourishing with his wide-swept arm. There was Yertle, the King Turtle in his little pond, larger than life in only his own eyes. I knew the Grinch couldn’t be far behind. Between them, oh the wonders I beheld.

I have a son who imagines himself the Great White Hunter, but the squirrels held captive in my freezer belie this. I have never been a fan of the hunter’s trophies adorning walls. It is not art to me, and most unnerving to have the glass eyes of a deer or lion peer at me as I walk through a room. But, looking at the Unorthodox Taxidermy, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurd similarities. These examples though, I would gladly display in my den or library. Admittedly, the Two-Horned Drouberhannis made me do a double-take with its gazelle-like appearance. But, that is where the obvious ends. The Andulovian Grackler resembled an animated jazz musician; and the Kangaroo Bird made me wonder if Tim Burton and Dr. Seuss shared similar nightmares, despite the baby in pouch. The Tufted Gustard made me laugh and say out loud, “Talk about a bad hair day!”

The Illustration Art held familiar pieces, and made me think back to the days I introduced my children to these very same characters. Sam (of I-Am fame) is as much himself as he ever was. The Grinch is still timeless. And the Bee Watcher watchers, made me think of mirrors reflecting one upon the other.

In the Archive Collection I found a piece (namely Martini Bird) that made me wonder just what was in Geisel’s mind when he was at his most mischievous. With a hint of Mrs. Robinson and her Graduate, it bordered on erotic art, and made me realize that no matter what our accepted genre of creative outlet, we all have a saucy side as well.

If I tell you too much of the Secret Art, it will no longer be just that. Secret. And, you might be inclined not to go see it for yourself. But you would be missing some of the most compelling art in the collection. Joyous Leaping of Uncanned Salmon, with its paisley shaped salmon bounding upstream, had me visualizing my own children’s conceptions; Self-Portrait of a Young Man Shaving had me recalling the time I watched my twin sons shave for the first time; Gosh! Do I Look As Old As All That jogged a mental note to call my colorist; and Fooling Nobody was a reminder that no matter our facades, there will always be someone who sees under them.

So, hurry out to The H.F. Johnson Gallery of Art on the Carthage College campus before it is too late. Do what one young man did. Grab the exhibit program as you peruse the featured items, and prepare your own Christmas wish list of Dr. Seuss art. Then you can say, “To think that I saw it not only on Mulberry Street , but also in Kenosha , Wisconsin .”