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Title: They Still Draw Pictures!
Date of first publication: 1938
Author: The Spanish Child Welfare Association
Date first posted: May 7, 2015
Date last updated: May 7, 2015
Faded Page eBook #20150518
This eBook was produced by: Marcia Brooks & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net
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PRICE $1.00This is a collection of children's drawings; it is also and at the same time a collection of drawings made by little boys and girls who have lived through a modern war.
Let us consider the collection in both its aspects—as a purely aesthetic phenomenon and as an expression of contemporary history, through the eyes of the sociologist no less than of the art critic.
From an aesthetic and psychological point of view, the most startling thing about a collection of this kind is the fact that, when they are left to themselves, most children display astonishing artistic talents. (When they are interfered with and given “lessons in art,” they display little beyond docility and a chameleon-like power to imitate whatever models are set up for their admiration.) One can put the matter arithmetically and say that, up to the age of fourteen or thereabouts, at least fifty per cent of children are little geniuses in the field of pictorial art. After that, the ratio declines with enormous and accelerating rapidity until, by the time the children have become men and women, the proportion of[Pg 5] geniuses is about one in a million. Where artistic sensibility is concerned, the majority of adults have grown, not up, but quite definitely down.
The sensibility of children is many-sided and covers all the aspects of pictorial art. How sure, for example, is their sense of colour! The children whose drawings are shown in this collection have had the use only of crayons. But crayons strong enough to stand up to the pressure imposed on them by impatient childish hands are a most inadequate colour medium. Child colourists are at their best when they use gouache or those non-poisonous, jam-like pigments which are now supplied to nursery schools and with which, using the familiar techniques of playing with mud or food, even the smallest children will produce the most delicately harmonized examples of “finger painting.” These Spanish children, I repeat, have had to work under a technical handicap; but in spite of this handicap, how well, on the whole, they have acquitted themselves. There are combinations of pale pure colours that remind one of the harmonies one meets with in the tinted sketches of the eighteenth century. In other drawings, the tones are deep, the contrasts violent. (I remember especially one landscape of a red-roofed house among dark trees and hills that possesses, in its infantile way, all the power and certainty of a Vlaminck).
To a sense of colour children add a feeling for form and a remarkable capacity for decorative invention. Many of these pastoral landscapes and scenes of war are composed—all[Pg 6] unwittingly, of course, and by instinct—according to the most severely elegant classical principles. Voids and masses are beautifully balanced about the central axis. Houses, trees, figures are placed exactly where the rule of the Golden Section demands that they should be placed. No deliberate essays in formal decoration are shown in this collection; but even in landscapes and scenes of war, the children's feeling for pattern is constantly illustrated. For example, the bullets from the machine guns of the planes will be made visible by the child artist as interlacing chains of beads, so that a drawing of an air raid becomes not only a poignant scene of slaughter, but also and simultaneously a curious and original pattern of lines and circles.
Finally, there is the child's power of psychological and dramatic expression. This is necessarily limited by his deficiencies in technique. But, within those limitations, the invention, the artistic resourcefulness, the power of execution are often remarkable. The pastoral scenes of life on the farm in time of peace, or in the temporary haven of the refugees' camp, are often wonderfully expressive. Everything is shown and shown in the liveliest way. And the same is true of the scenes of war. The drawings illustrating bombardment from the air are painfully vivid and complete. The explosions, the panic rush to shelter, the bodies of the victims, the weeping mothers, upon whose faces the tears run down in bead-like chains hardly distinguishable from the rosaries of machine-gun bullets descending from the sky—these are portrayed again and again with a power of expression that[Pg 7] evokes our admiration for the childish artists and our horror at the elaborate bestiality of modern war.
And this brings us by an easy and indeed inevitable transition to the other, non aesthetic aspect of our exhibition. It is a pleasure to consider these children's drawings as works of art; but it is also our duty to remember that they are signs of the times, symptoms of our contemporary civilization. If we look at them with the eyes of historians and sociologists, we shall be struck at once by a horribly significant fact: the greater number of these drawings contain representations of aeroplanes. To the little boys and girls of Spain, the symbol of contemporary civilization, the one overwhelmingly significant fact in the world of today is the military plane—the plane that, when cities have anti-aircraft defenses, flies high and drops its load of fire and high explosives indiscriminately from the clouds; the plane that, when there is no defense, swoops low and turns its machine-guns on the panic-stricken men, women and children in the streets. For hundreds of thousands of children in Spain, as for millions of other children in China, the plane, with its bombs and its machine guns, is the thing that, in the world we live in and helped to make, is significant and important above all others. This is the dreadful fact to which the drawings in our collection bear unmistakable witness.
North of the Pyrenees and west of the Great Wall, the imagination of little boys and girls is still free (I am writing in the first days of September, 1938) to wander over the whole[Pg 8] range of childish experience. The bombing plane has not yet forced itself upon their thoughts and emotions, has not yet stamped its image upon their creative fancy. Will it be possible to spare them the experiences to which the children of Spain and China have been subjected? And, if so, by what means can this be achieved? To this second question many different answers have been given. Of these the most human and rational is the apparently Utopian but, at bottom, uniquely practical answer proposed by the Quakers. That this solution, or any other of its less satisfactory alternatives, will be generally accepted in the near future seems in the highest degree improbable. The most that individual men and women of good will can do is to work on behalf of some general solution of the problem of large-scale violence and meanwhile to succour those who, like the child artists of this exhibition, have been made the victims of the world's collective crime and madness.
This book was published at cost and exclusively in order that the profits might be contributed to the Quakers for the relief of children in Spain, where millions are underfed or actually starving. As the sale of this volume will save many lives, we need not be apologetic about the breach of etiquette in asking the public to recommend this book. Its merits consist not only in Mr. Huxley's preface and in the publication of a unique collection of documents, the like of which have never before been seen, but also when given to a child may remind it that there are millions of unhappy children in Spain and teach it to appreciate its own good fortune, which it considers a matter of course.
The illustrations have been arranged in what one might call a chronological progression in four parts, adding thereto some miscellanea.
First: The children's general impression of war: Plates 1-7.
Second: A series of drawings which picture bombings: Plates 8-23.
Third: A cycle of pictures showing the flight from danger. Trains, trucks, steamers, rowboats, oxcarts, mules or their own feet brought the children to safer places: Plates 24-36.
Fourth: The life of the children, once they are in homes or colonies in Spain or France: Plates 37-49.
Fifth: Heterogeneous subjects: Plates 50-60.
The 60 drawings were selected almost at random, without paying special attention to their artistic value. They are[Pg 10] autobiographic pages of unkept diaries. As the Peninsula has given to the world its most original painters, contemporaneous Spanish children's ability for pictorial art is certainly not inferior to that of other countries. A specific ability for perspective cannot be denied. Those who know Spain will quickly find themselves at home when scanning these illustrations, and those who have not been there will intuitively feel that the atmosphere of landscape, rural or urban architecture has been well caught.
As Mr. Huxley points out, the Spanish children are under the enormous handicap of not having proper material with which to work. Even professional painters in Spain at this moment complained to the writer of lack of good paint, canvas, pencils and brushes. The children generally have to use small bits of inferior paper, whereas experience shows that a child's talents have free scope only when adequate space is allowed, hence the superiority of children's murals over their drawings. Empty stomachs, frostbitten fingers are other handicaps.
The captions are often as obvious, but perhaps as useful, as explanatory notes below reproductions of paintings even in many erudite books on art. Without having his attention drawn, for instance to Plate 40, only the most patient observer would notice the gay deviltry of the class of youngsters and appreciate the humor of the drawing. The subtitles in quotation marks give a verbatim rendering of the children's inscriptions, reproducing their awkward, helpless, sometimes stilted verbal expressions. Their drawings[Pg 11] are more eloquent than their words, better than their syntax.
One of this country's great child psychiatrists noted that these drawings lack the morbidity often observed in children's drawings of great American cities. He also observes that there are few drawings of food, so frequently the theme of children who live a normal life. In ordinary times Spanish children too painted sausages and hams. They also painted trains which were not meant for evacuation, and airplanes which carried mail and passengers.
When Spanish children's drawings were first publicly exhibited, questions as to how they were collected were asked so frequently that an anticipated brief answer does not seem out of place. The writer, when in Spain six months ago, asked the Board of Education for some drawings, and within a few days was deluged with hundreds, flowing in from the schools of Madrid. At Valencia the same experience was met. To the authorities at Madrid and Valencia we want to express our thanks for their helpfulness. Also to Miss Margaret Palmer, Representative of the Carnegie Institute in Spain who sent us a great number of drawings from refugee centers for Spanish children in France. And to Bruce Bliven, from whose articles on Spanish children's drawings we have borrowed, with his permission, the title of this volume. In the name of the Spanish children we express our gratitude to Aldous Huxley for his most generous contribution.
—J. A. W.
Plate 1
Jesus Esquerro, 10 years old. “My vision of the war.” An excellent drawing for so young a child.
Plate 2
Enrique de San Roman, 11-year-old child at Colony of Puebla Sarga, Province of Valencia, writes above his drawing simply: “Picture of the war.”
Plate 3
Isidoro Martin, 11 years old, Children's Colony of Tangel, Province of Alicante. He gives his vision of the war in pen and ink. The fighting soldiers seem to be children of Isidoro's own age.
Plate 4
Inscription on reverse says: “This drawing represents that sometimes when the militia went to the front, on the way the enemy airplanes machine-gunned them and they have wounded some of them. Francisco Pedrell. Age 12 years.”
Plate 5
Manuel Alonso Alemani, 6 years old, of the School Colony of Torrente. Note the very primitive way of drawing figures and planes, whereas armored cars are quite realistic.
Plate 6
Writing on reverse says: “Dolores Turado Alonso, 10 years old, evacuated from Charmartin de la Rosa, Madrid to Alcira, Valencia. Nov. 18th 1937.” Inscription under drawing: “The wounded distract their sorrows contemplating nature.” On the building: “Surgical Hospital” (Hospital de Sangre.)
Plate 7
Tomas Bosco Gomar, 13 years old. January 18th, 1938. Watercolor. Note the camouflaged armored car to the right. The original shows most of the rainbow's colours. Destruction shown to the left, destructive engines to the right. As dramatic in colour as it is in action.
Plate 8
Fernando Gonzalez Esteban, 12 years old, evacuated from Madrid to Alcira, November, 1937. What excitement in the sky, trembling with the roar of eight planes! The ruined building in the foreground has been shattered long ago as can be seen by growth of herbs on tower and walls.
Plate 9
Drawn by Juan Jose Martinez, Madrid. 11 years old. The inscription says: “The child during the bombardment sleeps in the subway.” A cool place though not well ventilated during Madrid's summer heat. A bitter refuge when the thermometer marks zero.
Plate 10
Rafael Gomez, only 10 years old. “My vision of the war.” An objective rather academic drawing, represents the literal truth: Planes, explosion, fire.
Plate 11
Alejandro Lazcano. No age given. Normally, a high-flying plane seems the size of a crow. In this child's mind the plane fills the sky, overshadowing the town it has set on fire.
Plate 12
Manuel Corona Mingo, 11 years old. Family Colony Group “Alfredo Calderon,” Madrid. Searchlights focus on the enemy planes over Madrid. The tallest structure is the famous American Telephone Building, shelled 160 times and still standing.
Plate 13
Manuel Garcia, 12 years old. From a hospital cot, Manuel recalls his flight from enemy planes. Covering his eyes to shut out the sight of falling bombs, he runs with dogs and sheep as frightened as himself. Children's Colony 10, Alicante.
Plate 14
Spanish Center at Cerbere, France. Inscription on reverse says: “This scene represents a bombardment of my town Port-Bou. Marie Dolores Sanz, 13 years old.” The girl under the tree covers her eyes, weeping over the death of her playmates.
Plate 15
Inscription on reverse: “This scene I have seen when the airplanes came to bomb and children and women run to the tunnel because if they don't they get killed in their houses. Gloria Boada (girl) 12 years old, from Irun Guipuzcoa, Children's colony of Bayonne, France.” The children at the left react differently to the enemy aircraft. One cries: “Oh Mama!” another, “The sirens and bells!” while the third bitterly exclaims, “How valiant.” The woman with the child says, “To the tunnel.” With hand raised to her face, the woman at the right cries out, “Oh, they have destroyed my house!” Even the church bell speaks, ringing out “puntulun.”
Plate 16
Francisco Torres Marcos, Family Colony of Puebla Larga, Province of Valencia. Age 10. Inscriptions on drawing read from left to right: “Everybody to shelter!” “Museum.” “Boom.” “Mama I cannot see.” “Shelter.” (Refugio.)
Plate 17
Spanish Center at Cerbere, France. Inscription on the reverse says: “This drawing represents the machine that came to fetch the cars and planes and everybody to the shelter. . .”—Jose Ruiz, 11 years old. This drawing gives considerable anecdotic detail. Only a fragment of the car the locomotive is to fetch is visible on the left, below the dugout which serves as a shelter. A dead baby on the ground. Men and women running. Only the water carrier seems paralyzed. The planes are far above to right and left.
Plate 18
Inscription on reverse says: (The stilted language of the 14 year old child is, as has been our rule, literally translated). “This scene gives the form of how the bombardments of Bilbao have been in the year 1937. I appear in the scene and was at the entrance of the tunnel of Begona.” Hector Hilario from Bilbao. Children's Colony at Bayonne, France. The composition of the drawing is distinctly divided into three patterns: the moving planes, the once quiet village and the running mass of inhabitants seeking shelter in the tunnel.
Plate 19
Placida Medrano, 11 years old. Inscription on reverse: “We seek shelter under the trees.” A precarious shelter indeed.
Plate 20
Colony 40 Oliva, Valencia. Magalena Ruiz, 11 years old. A house collapses and the wooden understructure is splintered into an amorphous heap of timber. A dead person on the small town's street, killed on the way to the “refugio.” A heart-breaking subject and a most remarkable drawing.
Plate 21
Eduardo Herrera, 12 years old. A group of children on the main street in a little Spanish town looks up to heaven. Perhaps those are friendly airplanes. Excellent perspective. The nocturnal scene is happily rendered.
Plate 22
Inscription: “My house destroyed, the bricks are flying through the air.” A dead child, a Red Cross motor truck, two adults seen in the shelter (refugio) the inside of which Carmen Huerta, 9 years old, shows us, as if it were made of glass. She comes from Charmartin de la Rosa (Madrid) and was evacuated to Alcira in November, 1938.
Plate 23
Lucia del Hierro, 11 years old. No other inscription. The expressive picture represents women and children standing in line to buy coal (1st from left), bread (center) and groceries to the right. A woman leads a child by the hand. A girl is jumping rope. Planes, play and the struggle for food.
Plate 24
Luis Gonzalez. La Pinada, 1937-1938. The child must be about 6 years old, to judge by the simplified human figures which stand in the bread line.
Plate 25
Inscription on reverse: Colony No. 40 Oliva (Valencia) Pepa Alonso, 12 years. “Evacuation.” Peasant women wave their hands at the children on train travelling to or hoping for safety. Is the child crying over separation from a friend or because she was left behind?
Plate 26
Rafael Jover Rodriguez, 13 years old, Colony at Bellus. Evacuation train. Is it a doll, resting on the girl's lap, or her little sister? They are uprooted but for the time being their journey is exceptionally comfortable.
Plate 27
Evacuation by train from Madrid. Two of the children cry, another gesticulates in despair. A girl is still busy with her luggage, a boy shaking hands through the doorway. Perhaps it is a self-portrait of J. Rodriguez, 13 years old.
Plate 28
Francisco Garcia, 14 years old, School Colony, Torrente, Province of Valencia. The Swiss Aid motor truck evacuating children from danger encounters a plane on the way. “Is it ours or theirs?” the children ask themselves.
Plate 29
Ildefonso Ortuno Ibanez, 11 years old. Family colony at Puebla Larga, Province of Valencia. The second child from the left exclaims: “I also want to get on!” She carries a valise, therefore was ready to be evacuated and must be desperate at being left behind. Not the “I also want to get on” of a spoiled child desirous to go on an excursion. A cry of anguish.
Plate 30
Inscription on reverse: Luis Casero Esteban, 11 years old, native of Madrid, Family Colony at Puebla Larga. (Province of Valencia.) If only the airplanes would not hum in the sunlight. This very bourgeois family with the hunchbacked father looks gayly at the prospect of leaving a place where airplanes drone. Will there be none where they go?
Plate 31
Inscription: “My evacuation.” Pura Barrera, 11 years old. Is the little girl with her family to travel in the mule-drawn cart or in the motorbus?
Plate 32
Felipe Redoudo Blanco, 11 years old, Bilbao. Inscription: Evacuation from Bilbao to France. The steamer “Habana” is nearing Bilbao to evacuate Spanish civilians to France. On the pier human figures waving their arms in welcome. On each side of the steamer Habana are craft flying the Union Jack.
Plate 33
Inscription on reverse: “This drawing I have made to show that I fled from Irun in this way.” Theodoro Pineiro from Irun, Guipuzcoa. 13 years old. Children's Colony at Bayonne, France. This is an impressive picture of an exodus from burning Irun. In rowboats the inhabitants fled to the French shore.
Plate 34
Isidro Esquerro Ruiz, 12 years old. Children's Residence at Onteniente. (Province of Alicante). Inscription over drawing: “Scenes of evacuation.” In Isidro's village no other vehicle for flight was available but this ox-drawn cart. The slowest and mildest beasts of burden contrasting with the swift-moving, dangerous motor-driven birds above.
Plate 35
Resurreccion Rodriguez, 11 years old. Inscription above the picture: “An evacuation.” It is night. All the family's belongings are packed upon the mule's back. Tragedy vibrates in the nervous, artless lines of this drawing.
Plate 36
Inscription on reverse reads: “This scene means my flight over the Pyrenees. In the distance the first village we encounter: Laroun. Elias Garalda, 12 years old, from Pamplona. Children's Colony at Bayonne.” The reproduction fails to give a clear idea of the drawing's beauty. Note, moving towards the church at right, the hazy forms of 4 people who straggle through the snow, dragging a mule behind them.
Plate 37
Pilar Marcos, 14 years old, Colony at Bellus. Mickey Mouse inspires murals even in Spanish schools.
Plate 38
Francisca Gonzalez Ruiz, 12 years old, loves music, the dance and apparently also painting.
Plate 39
Julian Arjonilla, 12 years old, Children's Colony of Olivia, Valencia Province. Inscription on reverse says: “Movies before the war.” Inscription on left: “Smoking forbidden.” To right: “Spitting forbidden.” The child remembers a Wild West film. The broad-brimmed hats of spectators seem to indicate that Julian Arjonilla's home was in Andalusia.
Plate 40
Maria Luz Escudero, 11 years old. Children's residence, Tangel, Province of Alicante. Pupils seem rather distracted. A difficult class to manage. When their country is torn in two, what does it matter whether 2 plus 2 makes four?
Plate 41
Inscription on reverse: This is the Colony where we live and we are playing “Al Cuadro.” Marcelina Muneca, 12 years. “Al Cuadro” is the Spanish form of hopscotch. The inscription (see third child from the left) says: “You are cheating.”
Plate 42
Children's Colony at Saint-Hilaire in France. The child, 9-year-old Carmen Benitz, writes: “What we are doing in the colony.” Jumping rope, playing ball below. The upper part of this diptych neatly separated from the lower one by a frieze of flowers, is a reminiscence. Bullfighting scenes very rarely seem to occupy the children's imagination. Only three “corridas” in a collection of over a thousand drawings.
Plate 43
Manolita Ortego Pallares, 10 years old, School of Chirivella. Family Colony, Group Alfredo Calderon, Madrid. “Playing in the Pardo,” says the inscription. This is a reminiscence, for the Pardo has not been accessible to children since the war broke out. Note the inverted perspective of the ring-around-the-rosy playing children. Rather fanciful the figure of the woman with a broom. What is she sweeping?
Plate 44
Inscription on reverse says: “Football match in Barcelona.” Eugenio Planas, 10 years old. Football has become more popular than bullfights.
Plate 45
“This drawing represents our life in the colony playing I and others.” (ah, the child repents and politely strikes out “I and others” adding “others and I”) in the fronton of the Colony. Tulano Theodoro Pineiro, 13 years old from Irun, Guipuzcoa. Children's Colony, Bayonne, France. The Basque ball game, Jai-Alai, has many addicts in the French Basque country. It is played almost everywhere in Spain, in towns in covered courts, in villages against any wall.
Plate 46
Felix Ramirez Nieto, 11 years old, Colony of Bellus. Skiing has become popular in Spain during the last two decades. Excepting the South Coast there is hardly a town from which snow covered peaks cannot be reached in a few hours. From Madrid to the 7000-foot peak of Navacerrada is 30 miles, from Barcelona to Puigcerda is 80 miles. How could young Ramirez have missed the chance of drawing a skier who has come a cropper!
Plate 47
Inscription on reverse: “This drawing shows us before we enter into the school. Laura Grabacos Trias, 11 years old.” This coloured drawing has the quaint quality and perspective of some early mediaeval miniatures.
Plate 48
Pilar Marcos Garcia, 14 years old, Bellus. This gifted girl shows us villagers and children in front of the Colony's improvised theatre. Leisurely walking and chatting. How contrasting with the tense atmosphere almost palpable in drawings of evacuations and war scenes!
Plate 49
Marcelino Serrano Hervas, 13 years old. Colony of Lobosillo, Province of Murcia. This drawing gives an excellent idea of a small rural town. Marcelino is a serious boy. We suppose he has portrayed himself, walking in measured steps with his schoolmate, discussing very grave affairs.
Plate 50
Marcelino Serrano Hervas, (see preceding plate) also has an eye for nature. He is a good draughtsman, has great artistic sense, but is not over-lyrical. Agriculture is a sober business worthy of the attention of a mature young man of 13.
Plate 51
Teresa Vergara Garcia, 13 years old, School Colony at Torrente, Province of Valencia. Note the realistic drawing of the horse, contrasting with the summary treatment of the human figures picking oranges from the ground and placing them in a basket.
Plate 52
Victor Ramirez, 14 years old, Child Colony of Lobosillo, Province of Murcia. The drawing represents an everyday scene in Spain's rural life. A sledge larded with flint is driven over the wheat. This is the old-fashioned way of threshing from Babylonian, perhaps pre-Babylonian times. In the Near East and in Spain this primitive method is most frequently employed.
Plate 53
Carlos Serrano Hervas, 14 years old, Colony of Lobosillo. The shepherd and his flock is an ever attractive motive for painters, photographers and, as we see, also for children.
Plate 54
Very gifted is young Lazcano, 14 years old, who draws this landscape from the Colonia La Pinada. He will be a distinguished painter if he survives the war. Here is perfect rendering of the southeastern landscape where nearly every inch of ground, if carefully cultivated, gives abundant crops of oranges, olives, onions and in some places even dates.
Plate 55
Inscription on reverse says: “This represents trees and a well which is covered by the trees and then there is a man who herds goats and a girl gathering flowers. Maria Duran Gratacos, 11 years old.” This is a flower-loving child, a bunch of flowers in her hands. The blossom-covered trees gracefully and formally bending toward each other seem to float in the air. The color scheme is exceptional. The drawing has the graceful frailness of Persian Timurid miniatures.
Plate 56
Isidro Martinez, 11 years old, Colony of Tangel, Province of Alicante. Isidro is not a town-bred boy. Certainly a peasant child, lovingly drawing the olive crop. The fruit is being beaten down with a stick.
Plate 57
Inscription says: “In the kitchen in the school of Freinet.” No age indicated. Carmen Notarilau. This gay watercolor is made by a gay child. Cheerful because there is peace and food in a French Colony for children. A very housewifey and original composition which has a quaint Marie Laurencin quality.
Plate 58
What could be more cubistic than this drawing of 10-year-old Isidro Hernandez? An innocent Picasso. And of the Blue Period besides.
Plate 59
A. Guerra, 14 years old, drew this intricate picture of Valencia's medieval tower “El Miguelete.” His teacher, Jose Manaut, assured the writer that the drawing was made in his presence, from memory. If the boy survives he will become an architect or a painter. He never can have seen a work of Bombois or Vivian which this suggests.
Plate 60
The inscription in very childish handwriting says nothing but: “The burial of Miguel. Alfonso Gonzalez, 9 years old.” The grim simplicity of this drawing shows how completely the death of his playmate absorbs the child's mind. Four men carry the coffin to the cemetery over the gate of which is the sign R.I.P. Requiescat in pace. May you rest in peace, little Miguel.
[The end of They Still Draw Pictures! by The Spanish Child Welfare Association]