Ilon Wikland’s striking illustrations invoke magic

by Valerie Valentine

Ilon Wikland must be a pretty cool 70-year-old. As one of Sweden’s foremost illustrators, she’s provided art for over 100 books, and still knows what it’s like to be a kid. Wikland brings to mind familiar fantasies, particularly if you’re 8 years old. The daydreams come alive only when we consider them.

The swanky space of the American Swedish Institute lends a fairy-tale setting to the experience of Wikland’s watercolors and ink line drawings. The building itself is an enchanted haunt, easily inspiring childlike reveries. Posh décor, gleaming wood and a carefully tended garden set it apart from other art venues in the area.

Some artists invoke magic through their subjects; others use their media to cast spells. Wikland uses both. Her imagined scenes enliven Astrid Londgren’s stories, as well as her own. Characters flit through the scenery, apparitions in dazzling color. Blue and white invokes winter, pinks and greens make summer. Visible pen and brushstrokes add texture to trees, mountains, homes and faces. The rooms and spaces are familiar, like those we inhabit daily. The artist also calls on those old familiar spaces in the back of the mind, retained from childhood worlds and the books we read then.

“The Long, Long Journey” by Rose Lagercrantz addresses the hardships of the world as seen through the eyes of a young girl. It also echoes Wikland’s life, who grew up in Estonia, then moved to Sweden as a war refugee at age 14. The first time children are confronted with war is a traumatic event, worthy of contemplation. Wikland’s illustration is sensitive but striking, as flaming planes fall from the sky and tanks roll into a previously peaceful town. We follow the narrative visually through children’s games to harsh lessons in death, when the girl’s dog is killed. The series creates questions about how we describe the difficulties of this world to the innocents who will eventually inherit these woes.

Wikland shows an affinity for animals, one dog in particular. “Sammeli” is present in several stories. The dog might serve as an extension of Wikland’s persona, present in each caper. Every time, the dog is the companion animal, comfort and confidant.

A broader experience of these visuals requires viewers to make a story to go with the images. As adults, we rarely exercise our imaginative muscles, instead focusing on concrete fact and the confines of reality. A child might not see things so rigidly. Try to decipher the scene: two little girls in an empty restaurant, with a dog at their side, being waited on by a maid in a fancy uniform. Adult interpretation: “It’s a picture.” A child might see it as: “The girls are orphans on a great adventure. They found a treasure and then go to the fanciest restaurant in town, which is empty because no one else can afford it. The dog is allowed in the restaurant because in that world, dogs eat with humans. Dogs can talk, too.”

Such whimsy is essential to the spirit. A fortune cookie once read, “She who is young at heart will never grow old.” Wikland’s secret may be that she’s got lots of kids in her family, or simply that she refuses to relinquish the innocence of one’s formative years. Wikland proves artists can remain creative and also be commercially successful, once inspiration is discovered. Entering into her art by way of narrative story, Wikland’s youthful imagination proves timeless.

Small Heroes, Great Journeys: The Art of Ilon Wikland runs through October 3. The American Swedish Institute is located at 2600 Park Ave. S., Mpls. 612-871-4907.