Chris Van Allsburg
Chris Van Allsburg
Chris Van Allsburgis an American illustrator and writer of children's books. He has won two Caldecott Medals for U.S. picture book illustration, for Jumanjiand The Polar Express, both of which he also wrote; both were later adapted as successful motion pictures. He was also a Caldecott runner-up in 1980 for The Garden of Abdul Gasazi. For his contribution as a children's illustrator he was 1986 U.S. nominee for the biennial, international Hans Christian Andersen Award, the highest international recognition for...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth18 June 1949
CountryUnited States of America
I don't like to travel. Yet all my books seem to involve a journey.
I don't know if what kids really want is a hamster. What they want is a dog. So the hamster ends up being a substitute: 'Well, would you accept this?'
I'm not surprised that my books appeal to adults.
When somebody says, 'This must be a children's book,' basically they're saying, 'You must be a child.' And so my answer is, 'Well, yes, I guess I am a child.' But I don't think of myself that way.
What kids are exposed to on television is more frightening and horrifying than what they see in my books.
A good picture book should have events that are visually arresting - the pictures should call attention to what is happening in the story.
'The Polar Express' began with the idea of a train standing alone in the woods. I asked myself, 'What if a boy gets on that train? Where does he go?'
Brainstorming, for me, takes place in my bed at night between the time I turn out my lights and I finally fall asleep. It is not a very violent storm, but what's happening is I am just thinking about different ideas and maybe things I've seen that day that I think might make a good story.
The crudest thing I've done as a teacher was to require students to write a national anthem for their country and sing it themselves.
The whole idea of being mesmerized and not in control of your own actions is fascinating and a little spooky. I remember hearing about someone who'd gone to a magic act, and a person in the audience had become hypnotized by observing too closely what magician was doing on stage, and thought it was spooky to lose your consciousness that way.
I have very positive memories of reading biographies of unusual Americans as a child.
I love the idea of a tiny window between the back stoop and the pantry, where the milkman would pass through the cheese. But of course, there is no milkman anymore. So somebody coming by the house and seeing the window would say, 'Oh, that must be original, because that's where the milkman passed the cheese through to the pantry.'
I am never really surprised at the way my books take shape. They are just not as perfect as I'd like them to be.
At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.