Adora Svitak: “Tiny Literary Giant”

“Knights!  Clear the square of townsfolk!” the Duke cried.  Within a few moments, the square was empty except for the Duke, the Duchess, Myles, Didoni, and the large, burly knights who were guarding the Duke.  The men put the litter down, and the Duchess lay down to rest.  The Duke was telling Didoni what he wanted on his portrait.

“Make me look strong and majestic. I want no one to think that I am a weakling, like my soft older brother the King,” the Duke said imperiously.

“Knights! Clear the square of townsfolk!” the Duke cried. Within a few moments, the square was empty except for the Duke, the Duchess, Myles, Didoni, and the large, burly knights who were guarding the Duke. The men put the litter down, and the Duchess lay down to rest. The Duke was telling Didoni what he wanted on his portrait.  

“Why not paint a suit of armor?” Myles suggested before he could stop himself.

“Yes! The lad has quite the idea!” the Duke exclaimed. “Paint me in a suit of armor, with nothing amiss. Make my eyes as sharp as an eagle’s, and my nose straight and curved at the end. My lips I care for not— but make them solemn.”

Didoni nodded.

“It shall be done of course, your Grace,” Didoni said, already beginning to sketch on his canvas.

                                —- Excerpt from Adora Svitak’s Historical Fiction

  

 Adora Svitak Website

Just as I was saying in my last post that I’d never come across any literary prodigy, the name Adora Svitak came up on my computer screen last night.  The above excerpt is one of the sample writings from her website,  where you can also find her poems and fantasy writing.  Adora is a 10 year-old girl from Redmond, Washington.  Whether you want to label her a prodigy or not really does not change what has taken place in her life.  Here are the milestones so far:

Age 2.5: 

Could read and write simple words.

Age 3.5:

Read her first chapter book.

Age 4:

Started writing short stories.

Age 6:

Got a laptop from her Mom, writing began to take off.

Age 7:

Published 296-page Flying Fingers, a collection of her own fiction and writing tips for others (with her Mom).  Appeared on Good Morning America, interviewed by Diane Sawyer, who called her “Tiny Literary Giant”.  Met Peter Jennings and was given his book The Century For Young People, which remained her favorite.  Started Adora’s Blog.  http://www.adorasvitak.com/Blogger.html

Age 8:

Had written over 400 short stories and 100 poems, typed 60-80 words per minute, read 3 books at a time, 18 books a week.  Oh, that’s nothing, you might say, “My kid could do that.”  Just wait, Voltaire’s Candide?

Another book in the work, a collection of her poems called Dancing Fingers.

Promoted literacy to children in the UK.  Here’s The Guardian report: http://books.guardian.co.uk/news/articles/0,,1713183,00.html

Age 9:

Completing her first full-length novel Yang in Disguise,  serving as a spokesperson for Verizon Reads campaign for literacy, working on an animated computer program to help develop childhood literacy.

Montel Interview: http://www.metacafe.com/watch/439176/adora_svitak_9_year_old_author_criticize_george_bushs_iraq_pol/

Note: According to her interview on Montel, the proceeds of her book Flying Fingers will be going to the National Education Association and she would auction off some of her works to raise money for the victims of hurricane Katrina, rebuilding libraries in schools.

All in all, I feel that this gifted little girl doesn’t really care whether you label her “literary prodigy” or not.  She’s having the time of her life in her reading, writing, cooking, playing, and helping others how to read and write…  And, how many 10 year-olds can have the terms “Writer, Poet, Humanitarian” to describe themselves on their website?   http://www.adorasvitak.com/Main.html

But is this Art?…But is this Prodigy?

The comments in my last post have spurred some insightful ideas on the whole notion of what Art is, and whether a child’s production can include such inherent elements as soulful expression, and purposeful creation driven by theoretical stance.

I think a more appropriate question is, “But is this Prodigy?”

In his review of the documentary My Kid Could Paint That, New York Times film critic A. O. Scott acknowledges that it is natural for parents to cherish their children’s work. Those doodlings and finger paintings posted on the fridge door are priceless. He goes on to say:

The untaught sense of color and composition that children seem naturally to possess sometimes yields extraordinary results, and the combination of instinct and accident that governs their creative activity can produce astonishing works of art.

Except that these magical finger-paint daubings and crayon scribblings aren’t really works of art in any coherent sense of the term, but rather the vital byproducts of play, part of the cognitive and sensory awakening that is the grand, universal vocation of childhood.

The influential abstract art critic Clement Greenberg had made the following controversial remark: 

In visual arts, prodigies don’t count. In music and literature, yes, but not in art.”

The statement reiterates his view that:

The making of superior art is arduous.”

I tend to agree with him. 

I have seen music prodigies, not having reached the ripe old age of 10 or 12, performing complex pieces of classical compositions.  In contrast to a child pouring paint and spreading it out intuitively with her fingers, I saw behind those performances the countless hours of excruciating practice, the intricate and sometimes impossible eye-hand coordination, the mastery of the theory and the appreciation of the structure of the work, to ultimately evoking the very spirit intended by the composer as they perform. 

Not only that, the best of them make it deceptively simple.  They make the audience feel that they are watching a natural, born with such ability and talent, rendering hard work an oxymoron.  I’m not doubting there’s intuition and instinct involved.  But in every superb playing I see intuitive musicality alchemized with extraordinary mastery of skills and discipline. 

As for literary prodigies?  Maybe because of my limited exposure, I have yet to read one.

My Kid Could Paint That

If you type in “Marla Olmstead” in your Google search, 37 pages of information will come up. From these pages, you’ll know that she is a painter, born in Binghamton, New York. Her paintings have been compared to Wassily Kandinsky (the pioneer of modern art) and Jackson Pollock (the legendary drip artist). You’ll also learn that her works have been sold for tens of thousands of dollars. And soon enough, you’ll learn that Marla Olmstead is 7 years-old.

Nominated for a Grand Jury Prize at Sundance this year, My Kid Could Paint That is director Amir Bar-Lev’s quest to find out the true story behind this little girl who has been hailed as a “pint-size Picasso”. In the film, we see her using professional paintbrushes and other art accessories to work on canvases over 5 feet tall.

The first half of the documentary we see Marla Olmstead having her first showing in a NY Gallery, she was only 4 then. Her paintings sold like hot cakes, with a waiting list of more than 200 buyers, ready to snatch up anything she would produce. No need to worry about getting work for the next few years. As a 4 year-old, Marla had already earned more than $300,000, which her parents said had been put aside in a college fund. (Would she be going to college?)

Marla Olmstead Marla’s Burning Blue Ball

Then came the bombshell half way into the film. In a February, 2005, CBS’s 60 Minutes reporting, Marla and her parents were painted in a very different light. In the program, Charlie Rose interviewed Ellen Winner, a psychologist who has studied gifted children and specializes in visual arts. She saw a video tape taken by a hidden camera in the home of the Olmstead’s, unobtrusively recording Marla at work. What she suspected was a coach behind the child, someone prodding her on, even directing her moves. After the airing of the CBS program, a once beautiful art prodigy was overnight turned into an ordinary child with manipulative parents in the background steering her purposefully towards financial gain.

Sales began to drop, and warm praises turned into damning accusations. Loving parents are now seen as manipulative frauds. The Olmsteads have since made their own DVD to disprove the detrimental claims. You can see some of the clips showing Marla painting at home in the website http://www.marlaolmstead.com/

Director Amir Bar-Lev has successfully captured the emotional reactions Marla’s parents had in response to the 60 Minutes interview, and their attempt to defend their name in denying their invovlement in Marla’s artistic productions. Interestingly, the film does not take a stand. Rather, it has raised more questions than provided answers:

For those of us who are parents, what are our motives in raising our children? How can we decide what’s ‘best’ for them? How much influence should we or do we have over our children’s development? Where is the line between nature and nurture, pleasure and porfit? What’s more, what is art anyway? And the definition of modern art? Or, talent, for that matter? Does talent has to be associated with a monetary value or fame before it can be recognized?

Every one would have very different view of this story, and his/her own personal set of queries. I went to see this movie with a painter friend of mine. Not surprisingly, as we came out of the theatre, we had very different reactions to the film. Well one question I know I have, and it’s for my mom. Mom, if you’re reading…why wasn’t I given the big canvases and professional paintbrushes and those huge tubes of paints when I was a kid? How come I only got pencil crayons?

~~~3 Ripples