Where the Wild Things Are

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”
― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

The book, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak both fascinated and frightened me as a child.

My favorite scenes occur as a forest grows in Max’s room. Then the banks of an ocean appear. Max travels solo in his boat, by night and day for almost a year! Or at least, what feels to be a year! (Some days are just like that.)

As a child, I could hide myself in those spaces and that imaginative solo voyage.

Max finally reaches a far off shore, after his long voyage … only to be confronted by giant terrible Wild Things!

Now looking back upon the story as an adult, I am even more so struck by young Max’s courage to stare down and shout at the Wild Things,

“Be Still!”

I am reminded that there continue to be many things out there that roar at us, no matter what our age.

Sometimes we have the words to face those Wild Things. And sometimes, we have to steadfastly seek them.

Either way, whichever might be true for you . . .

I hope you always have someone who loves you best of all.

Where the Wild Things Are
watercolor
12” x 17”

All Creatures Great and Small

All creatures great and small, did God make them all?

Charlotte
watercolor
4.5” x 6”

Do the lines from the poem (turned hymn, book title and eventual television series) give us pause, when viewed through the lens of our time?

Do we value all things as bright and beautiful or fear when postmodernity questions them at all?

*Incidentally and of note, lines of the original poem (which are included below) are most often omitted today, especially when considered through the devastation and horrors of the Irish potato famine of the mid 1850s in which they were written. That in itself is a form of commentary to me.

All Things Bright and Beautiful

by Cecil Frances Alexander, 1848

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them high and lowly,
And ordered their estate.*

The purple headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one.

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who hath made all things well.