Ms Meier is worried. The clouds of sorrow over her head grow into a pitch-black wall that fills the entire page, the blackness pours out over Ms. Meier. Not even her carefree husband with a ring of hair and round black glasses can cheer her up. It is only when she finds a small bird that has fallen out of the nest that the pictures and Ms. Meier start to move. She feeds Pie. The heavy, melancholy woman becomes so light that she climbs a tree with Piepchen. The two sit back to back on a branch, they look into the distance, over the wide horizon into the light, and finally take off. “I hope you will believe it,” the narrator notes. And who wouldn’t want to believe Wolf Erlbruch?
In 1995 “Frau Meier, die Amsel” was published by Peter Hammer, Wolf Erlbruch’s in-house publishing house, and is part of a series of picture books with which the former advertising artist finally became an illustrator and author. Erlbruch only tells of difficult things like depression at first glance, because he always puts fantasy alongside reality. What’s more, his pictures give priority to the imagination, as if real life were taking place there, and maybe that’s true.
The consistent change of perspective leads to new insights
It may be one of the reasons that Wolf Erlbruch could and did take on almost any topic. Loneliness, fear, the experience of not being liked, the longing to belong, the desire for freedom and security. He meets the universal content with original stories and inexhaustibly imaginative images. Almost every year he wrote and drew a new picture book: “The Fearsome Five” (1990) about an engaging gang of little rascals, in “Bear’s Miracle” (1992) one urgently wants to become a father, and “Leonard” (1991) takes it with his fear of dogs up by becoming a dog himself – only to fear little boys in his new role. This is turning the tables at its finest. The consistent change of perspective leads to new insights – we have to, we can only believe it.
By the way, at the end of his adventure, Leonard hops back into his parents’ bed. And there he is again: the man with a ring of hair and round black glasses. He looks amazingly similar to the artist Wolf Erlbruch. That makes sense, because he doesn’t stand out. He makes himself approachable, makes experience accessible.
His gaze is that of a philanthropist, even where he lets the uncanny, enigmatic, child-devouring “Man-Eater” (1996) storm through his pictures based on the story by Valérie Dayre. They can take it. His audience too, because Wolf Erlbruch takes children seriously and entertains them brilliantly. “Nachts” (1999) sees a little sleepless boy holding his sleepy father’s hand on an unbelievable adventure, fantasy creatures and artificial figures bring the darkness to life, Alice from Wonderland and the rabbit are there, René Magritte, Erlbruch himself and many others say hello. The picture book, the literature, the art become a wonderland. And that is open to everyone.
Not a world explainer, but a passionate questioner
The book that made Wolf Erlbruch world famous was ten years old at that point. “The little mole who wanted to know who hit his head” (1989), based on the idea and text by Werner Holzwarth, has long been a bestseller. Because the mole asks the rabbit, goat, horse, cow, he finds out who, with all due respect, cheated on him, the children learn how animals do, the double enlightenment culminates in the most beautiful cacophony in a pointed act of revenge and Wolf Erlbruch proves of At the beginning: He doesn’t care about possible taboos, he’s not a world explainer. He is an avid questioner.
The author and illustrator Wolf Erlbruch, born in Wuppertal in 1948, became famous with children’s books such as “Ente, Tod und Tulip”, “Frau Meier, die Amsel” and “About the little mole who wanted to know who hit his head”. . He was the recipient of the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Prize, the world’s most prestigious award in the field of children’s and young adult literature.
(Photo: Carl Hanser Verlag/dpa)
Accordingly, he always asks the same question at the beginning of Jürg Schubiger’s poems “What is that?” used the full range of his skills for the illustrations. Virtuoso naturalistic animal drawings stand next to graphic illustrations. Reading, looking up, admiring is all in “Something Again!” (2014). His style in the striking collage technique has now become style-defining. Wolf Erlbruch has shaped and trained generations of illustrators, and above all he has made generations of children happy. For this he was awarded the German Youth Literature Prize, the Hans Christian Andersen Prize and most recently the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award. And what is the man with the hair ring and round black glasses doing? He sticks his tongue out. The lines of the poem go like this: “You were just cheeky and small then – Oh! That’ll always be me.”
Cheeky and small and maybe always remain a child, ask questions and observe – these remain the starting points for Wolf Erlbruch’s art. Then death answers “The Big Question” (2004) like this: “You are in the world to love life.” The unmistakably friendly death will appear again, in “Ente, Tod und Tulpe” (Antje Kunstmann, 2007) he is not a Grim Reaper, but a life companion from the beginning. In his apron, with his hands on his hips, he is above all human. He is a friend. He allows thoughts about himself, life, dying, and about one’s own disappearance from the world. Death waits for the duck to breathe its last. Then he lays her on the great river. He puts a tulip on her chest. Now the river fills the picture. The duck is gone. Death stands very small on the edge. “When he lost sight of her, Death was almost a little sad. But such was life.”
This life now lives on in the art of Wolf Erlbruch. He died in Wuppertal on December 11 at the age of 74. Even after his death, he remains the friendly realist, laconic dreamer, imaginative (life) artist, fantastic draftsman and famous storyteller. The man with a fringe of hair and round black glasses remains in his pictures. His view of the world made the world a wonderland. We must, we must only believe him.