Charles Livingston Bull
the Pincushion of the Woods
circa 1922
With many of Bull’s illustrations there seems to be an inherent sense of devotion that he ingrained into each of his animals. He used his gift of drawing as a gateway between his world and theirs, transferring his imagination and their mannerisms onto paper as a single expression. He did not merely replicate what he saw, but perceived it as something to first understand and observe, and to then translate through a brush. The bear here, for example, is more than just a detailed depiction of a grizzly; it is a bear who has a story of its own, as does the ‘pincushion’ sneering down at it from the tree. An unusual pair of plunderers, they might be bickering over their latest failure in stealing a few sets of much-needed trousers from the local laundry house; or they may be having a classic lovers’ quarrel, one blaming the other for the inexcusable mess of pine needles left at the foot of their tree; or maybe they are not fighting at all, but instead saluting each other after a satisfying few months of hibernation, and proposing to schedule a game of tennis for the following Wednesday. The possibilities for what may be taking place in this scene are endless, as long as one has an imagination at least equal to that of the artist’s to be able to envisage them. But it is not without Bull’s help that one can do this - take away his style and characteristic imprint as an illustrator and we would have but a silent bear, a stiff porcupine and an empty husk of bark.
