“For a child, the world perceived by adults is not important. A child does not need to dwell on details like an adult, nor find unfamiliar worlds strange.”
Javier Zabala
Good morning to all from a morning in November 2022. In this series, where we begin to look more closely at the perspectives of contemporary illustrators through picture-book analyses, we invite you to reflect on the words of illustrator and artist Javier Zabala.
In Miguel, Javier Zabala accompanies Alfredo Gómez Cerda’s layered and deeply affecting story with his singular visual language, making it even more resonant. For the artist, there is no great difference between illustrating a book for children and illustrating one for adults. He draws with the awareness that children can easily embrace unfamiliar worlds.
Throughout the book, he brings us face to face with his free and distinctive line. While preserving the story’s naïve and childlike voice, he remains in harmony with the writer’s language. The illustrations become, almost, an ode to the story itself.
Ekin Soytürk reflects on Javier Zabala’s perspective through Miguel. We hope you enjoy reading.
Do you agree with Zabala? I do.
Perhaps one of the most important differences between children and adults is that children do not get lost in details. They see things as they are. But what does it mean to see things as they are?
It is actually very simple: there is no confusion, no boundary, no obstacle… only acceptance. Miguel is like this too. Beginning with Javier’s beautiful words, I would like to reflect on Miguel’s experiences and share them with you.
There are many different stops along this journey.
A man rummaging through a rubbish bin: worn-out clothes, long hair falling from beneath a foul-smelling hat, a tangled white beard, shoes full of holes… not the kind of figure we encounter everywhere. We might not go near him or speak with him, yet Miguel does the opposite. He approaches the man and helps him. In truth, he is trying to understand him. And from him he learns things he has never heard from anyone before: fragments of poetry… books…
Two children in the street: they clean car windows. Though they are children, they still have to earn money. One day, Miguel overhears them talking. One of the children says, “There must surely be a place where you could live better than here.” Miguel pauses for a moment, trying to make sense of what he has heard. He is content; for him, the world is not a bad place. Yet the question, “Were the other children as happy as he was?” begins to trouble him. The only way to understand this is to understand them.
Miguel becomes those two children in that very moment. He lives their story at every traffic light. In other words, he turns into them.
And little by little, those fragments of poetry begin to rush toward Miguel. He truly does become the very first thing he looks at. This time, he becomes Casilda’s pen — the pen of the woman who helps in their home. He takes his place in her world.
There is also the story of Mario before us. Mario is wonderfully gifted at drawing, yet he has little interest in school. He constantly skips class. Because of this, everyone thinks he is a strange boy. Miguel, however, remains in close contact with Mario and enters into long conversations with him about one of their shared pleasures: football matches. He enjoys this very much. Miguel is also full of admiration for Mario’s drawings, and one day he suddenly becomes the illustrated card of Zenon taking a penalty kick.
He stays tucked inside Mario’s shirt pocket, and the journey begins. Along the way, Miguel witnesses Mario’s frightening adventure.
We also see Miguel following the story of a little girl sitting on a bench. This time, Miguel tries to understand the little girl. He speaks with her. Even though she cannot hear him, Miguel wants to know her story, to come closer to who she is. Yet this encounter remains incomplete, because Miguel has to step out of what he has transformed into.
The Accordion’s house? What could that be? This time, Miguel wonders about his teacher, who has not come to school, and finds himself inside his teacher’s home. He does something beautiful for him: Miguel is now Mr. Accordion’s walking stick…
On his final journey, Miguel becomes the “Drifter” he first encountered on his very first journey. This time, he does not turn into an object but into a person. Just like the Drifter, he too begins to feel hungry all the time. He puts the Drifter’s famous chocolate into his mouth, searches for bread in the rubbish bin, and reads Walt Whitman’s lines to another child. Perhaps now it is someone else’s turn to transform — who knows…
We adults, unfortunately, forget Whitman’s well-known lines. Perhaps we never even knew them:
There was a child who went out every day
And the first thing he looked at
He became that thing.
These lines are both magical and real. Children truly do become the first thing they look at. They try to understand what they become. Sometimes what is needed is not judgment, but understanding. We must embrace different lives and accept that they, too, exist.
I wish everyone a life with a little of Miguel in it.
