#istvanbanyai

(Moderator, author, and children's book reviewer Leonard Marcus; illustrator Istvan Banyai; and illustrator Antoine Guilloppé)

Last night saw the final panel for the French Embassy's Picture This! Series. And despite some ninja-like moderation by Leonard Marcus, the conversation still, at times, felt riddled and elusive.

That the scattered nature of the conversation managed to maintain a controlled feel was likely due both to 1) the experienced shepherding of Marcus and 2) the fact that both Antoine Guilloppé and Istvan Banyai, the evening’s co-panelists, are proven masters of shadows and playing with space. Even when the discussion temporarily lost its way, it felt as if it was always able to reclaim its footing.

The work of Banyai, with its “air of quiet mystery,” as per Marcus, is a reminder that things are not always what they seem. Similarly, Guilloppé admittedly seeks chances to surprise, present different perspectives, and offer the experience of “discovery.”

One of the most unifying instances between the two artists was when Guilloppé admitted first realizing he wanted to work in children’s books after coming across Banyai’s Zoom. Referring to his career move, Guilloppé teasingly accused Banyai: “It’s your fault!” To which Banyai proudly replied, “Thank you, Sir.” (And after which he more humbly added, “And I’m honored.")

Other blue-chip moments included when Guilloppé almost seemed to realize for himself one of his biggest inspirations in playing with die-cut pages: the way he felt witnessing lights cast on the fascades of buildings by cruising river boats in Paris at evening time.

And there was an uncharacteristic and raw intimacy in Banyai's admission, with lowered eyes, of a complete fear of the blank page. He divulged that nervousness compels him to doodle, that to doodle gives him comfort, and that sometimes when he touches a page he feels "doomed." Because it is then he feels an "irreversible coordinate.” From that moment on, he feels committed to finishing that drawing. And there are days when he worries he cannot, in fact, draw at all.

When asked, both artists asserted that their work is not for children—but instead for themselves.

Guilloppé, who hopes while in the USA to find an American publisher for his truly exquisite work, explained: “When I write a story, I don’t immediately think about the audience. Because I don’t want to constrain myself to draw only for children.” And when discussing the evolving kids’ market, he added that to counter a growing obsession in kids by technology, he feels his purpose is to find a way to “come up with new and innovative visual ideas. I try to get the children interested in the book as an object, also.”

Banyai, who is looking to publish his fifth kids' book, was more blunt, claiming: “We don’t think in terms of children. ‘An artist is working to make the world a better place.’ Bullshit. An artist works for himself.” He went on: “Look at me. I’m an old fart. But I’m still a child. Some children are super-intelligent, and they just came out of the egg. So don’t look down on children.” His final words on the matter: “We all have a child in ourselves. And so if I work for myself, I serve a child."

  (At times, Antoine worked with a French translator)