A Thousand Words - Shaun Tan

In much the same way as Maurice Sendak did years earlier, Shaun Tan’s books have that perfect balance of light and dark that makes them so palatable for adults and children alike. The hallmark of Tan’s illustrations and books is his ability to render the details of everyday life into the fantastical worlds he creates. His stories have the strong, basic principles common to many children's authors, yet there are few children's authors that also quite genuinely capture the essence of the bigger picture. "They tend to evolve that way from more complicated ideas, like a messy ball of string refined into a single key thread," Tan says of his ideas. "I think essential is a better word because it better suggests something that is both simple and complex. Simple in the sense that there is one fundamental idea or emotional pitch, such as a migrant travelling to a place of things without names, or the overall feeling of unhappiness in The Red Tree. And complex in that those ideas are open to thousands of possible interpretations."

It's this combination that makes Tan's books so endearing to all ages, along with his tendency to use intricately detailed images as opposed to many, or any, words at all to communicate with the reader. In The Red Tree we see a little girl navigating a fantastically dark world until a glowing red tree brightens her day; a conclusion that's suitable for both the innocent minded and those unfortunate enough to have plumbed the depths of depression. And it’s a task Tan achieves with no more than a handful of words per page. "You can read them on any level, and I like the idea that you don't have to know a great deal about the world to enjoy a good story or image – you only have to be interested," he continues. "The main thing is to create a strong impression of something, it doesn't really matter what that something is. There are sometimes suggestions of historical subjects, artistic movements, or particular events or places, but I don't think a reader should have to know anything about those."

Fremantle-born Tan often creates a strong impression with his willingness to touch on political issues and social injustices. Not themes often associated with children's literature, Tan insists their inclusions aren't premeditated, but rather developed organically as the narrative progresses. "I've often been asked about 'issues' in books, as if it's a conscious decision, when that's rarely the case. I think what happens is that subjects such as political oppression, injustice, or any abuse of power, which covers most bad stuff, is just really thought-provoking and moving," Tan offers; which in his own words, is a rather essential way of putting it. "For instance, when starting The Arrival I was mainly interested in little personal stories about immigrants, the weirdness of their cross-cultural experiences. But inevitably that led to bigger issues, questions of why were they migrating in the first place. Political and social injustice, as a theme, emerged again and again in my research; so many stories were about people escaping from something."

Yet the more I played with the idea of this strange unwanted thing, the more it began to 'rhyme' with some political issues in Australia at the time...

From his Melbourne home, which also doubles as his studio, Tan says The Lost Thing is another example of this. "It started out as a crazy story about a boy finding an ignored creature and taking it home. At the time I was primarily interested in making a story that was funny and light-hearted, almost nonsensical. Yet the more I played with the idea of this strange unwanted thing, the more it began to 'rhyme' with some political issues in Australia at the time: the rise of neo-conservatism, economic rationalism, and negative attitudes towards refugees."

Recently Tan has been heavily involved with the process of making The Lost Thing, his second solo book, into a film. It’s a creative process that he's found to be more than enlightening, for better and worse. "A film is a lot more work - its means of describing things is very elaborate. If you have a character walking down a street, you have to move them in a convincing way, add sound, and check the timing and so on. Problems of illustration, such as a nose not looking right, are multiplied exponentially when played out across so many frames." Tan admits. "By the same token, there's also the amazing facility of this medium - the ability to elaborate on the details, mannerisms and kookiness of a world that is as kinetic as the original illustrations imply. For instance, I always had a sense of how the lost thing moved – a cross between a small puppy and a huge lump of junk – of the ambient sounds of the industrial landscape and so on: things that cannot be conveyed so well using only painted images and written words."

Despite his recent foray into the tactile world of film, Tan is adamant that the literary world is where he belongs. "I think literature is my preferred medium; I like the scale of it, the economy of it, and I'm quite a solitary person by nature. Actually, my preferred medium is simply painting – just working on singular canvasses that are not especially for exhibition or publication – which can be a freeing thing to do. But I do hope to continue working with film, as long as it is with the right people and projects. I also enjoy contributing work to other peoples’ films, having developed concepts for Pixar's WALL-E for instance. But my primary means of expression is the silent, handmade image: sometimes with words." As they say - a picture tells a thousand words. Essentially.