Remembering the Work of Uri Shulevitz
In February of this year we lost a unique voice in children's literature — artist, author, illustrator and teacher Uri Shulevitz.
I could go on writing about any of Shulevitz's picture books (they're all good) or his how-to book Writing With Pictures which completely changed the way I thought about picture books. I think, though, my favorite and perhaps Shulevitz's most important book is a middle grade novel published in 2020 called Chance: Escape from the Holocaust.
Chance is the true story of a very young Uri and his parents fleeing Poland and the Nazi onslaught. Between 1939 and 1945 their harrowing journey took them north into the Soviet Union and eventually as far east to what is now Kazakhstan, then a Soviet republic.
The Shulevitz family experienced hardship and deprivation that many of us today would find hard to image. And yet through it all young Uri found ways to keep drawing.
From the start it was clear that he would be an artist. As soon as he could hold a pencil he began scribbling on the walls and in the margins of his father's newspapers. When he no longer had pencils or paper he discovered other ways. He writes:
As before, it was drawing, drawing. drawing. But now I had to come up with ways to keep drawing when I had no paper or pencil. For charcoal, I used pieces of half-burned wood. I drew on tree bark, dried leaves, a piece of torn cardboard if I was lucky. Flower petals and crushed green leaves were paint substitutes. I'd squeeze and rub them on top of my drawings. The result was a faint suggestion of color.
Sometimes I scratched drawings with a stick on the ground outside our little room. Other times I'd use a pebble for a head, a small stick for the body, and a small leaf for a hat. Being malnourished, I quickly grew tired, and I'd have to stop.
Then I discoverd that drawing with my finger in the air was less tiring. To onlookers, I must have looked like I was insane. No matter: I kept busy.
At other times, I simply looked outside and moved my finger around the contours of neighboring housed and walls, as if touching them from a distance.
That also got tiring. I'd rest in our room. While stretched out on the floor, I'd close my eyes and see in my head imaginary pictures.
Drawing—on a leaf, on the ground, in my imagination—was more than a distraction.
It was my home.
He illustrated over 40 books including two by Nobel Prize winning Isaac Bashevis Singer. Shulevitz was awarded the Caldecott Medal for The Fool of the World and the Flying Ship by Arthur Ransome and Caldecott Honors for The Treasure, Snow and How I Learned Geography.
I'm particularly fond of Shulevitz's Rain Rain Rivers, Dawn, Snow and Dusk. These are gentle, delightful picture books that are about the feeling of the experience. He brings child-like attention and enthusiasm to rain, snow, sunrise and sunset — things adults easily take for granted.
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| from Dawn by Uri Shulevitz |
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| from Rain Rain Rivers by Uri Shulevitz |
I could go on writing about any of Shulevitz's picture books (they're all good) or his how-to book Writing With Pictures which completely changed the way I thought about picture books. I think, though, my favorite and perhaps Shulevitz's most important book is a middle grade novel published in 2020 called Chance: Escape from the Holocaust.
Chance is the true story of a very young Uri and his parents fleeing Poland and the Nazi onslaught. Between 1939 and 1945 their harrowing journey took them north into the Soviet Union and eventually as far east to what is now Kazakhstan, then a Soviet republic.
The Shulevitz family experienced hardship and deprivation that many of us today would find hard to image. And yet through it all young Uri found ways to keep drawing.
From the start it was clear that he would be an artist. As soon as he could hold a pencil he began scribbling on the walls and in the margins of his father's newspapers. When he no longer had pencils or paper he discovered other ways. He writes:
As before, it was drawing, drawing. drawing. But now I had to come up with ways to keep drawing when I had no paper or pencil. For charcoal, I used pieces of half-burned wood. I drew on tree bark, dried leaves, a piece of torn cardboard if I was lucky. Flower petals and crushed green leaves were paint substitutes. I'd squeeze and rub them on top of my drawings. The result was a faint suggestion of color.
Sometimes I scratched drawings with a stick on the ground outside our little room. Other times I'd use a pebble for a head, a small stick for the body, and a small leaf for a hat. Being malnourished, I quickly grew tired, and I'd have to stop.
Then I discoverd that drawing with my finger in the air was less tiring. To onlookers, I must have looked like I was insane. No matter: I kept busy.
At other times, I simply looked outside and moved my finger around the contours of neighboring housed and walls, as if touching them from a distance.
That also got tiring. I'd rest in our room. While stretched out on the floor, I'd close my eyes and see in my head imaginary pictures.
Drawing—on a leaf, on the ground, in my imagination—was more than a distraction.
It was my home.
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| Uri in a DP camp, Leipheim Germany, 1946 |
I highly recommend Chance for your middle grade readers. It is a true and captivating story great for introducing discussion on geography and World War II.
On the topic of geography, there is one more picture book I want to mention: How I Learned Geography. It is one of the events told in Chance and another beautiful example of how Uri used his imagination to get a reprieve from the harsh conditions of life as a refugee.
If you're not familiar with Uri Shulevitz's work, here's a nicely produced reading of How I Learned Geography.
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