Only What’s Necessary: Charles M. Schulz and the Art of Peanuts by Chip Kidd
Chip Kidd is one of the premier book designers of our day, and a big proponent of comics as an art form. He also has a tendency to get…let me say “fussy”…in his designs – he came of professional age in the go-go Nineties, and that can be seen in his work sometimes. He also seems to be fascinated by the physicality of original art, and I’ve occasionally complained that tendency is not a good match for books that mean to reprint stories.
Art books want to show art, as clearly as possible, shot from the originals – it should mimic the experience of visiting a gallery. But most books with comics in them are not art books – they’re books for reading those comics. And, so, most of the time, versions of the art where you can see the color of the underlying paper or blue lines or lumps of Wite-Out or erasures are not what the audience wants or needs.
The good news is that this book here is an art book, which means Kidd’s instincts and strengths are perfectly aligned with the purpose of the book. (See up top, for the original cover of the book, as an example of what Kidd does when he has his head. The current cover of the book – much more conventional, and much more useful for anyone trying to figure out what it is, is below.)
You can see the color of the underlying paper and some tracing lines and big swoops of Wite-Out and some erasures and loose sketches in Only What’s Necessary: Charles M. Schulz and the Art of Peanuts  – and that’s the point of the book. It’s a sampling of the collection of the Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center, and the purpose is to show a much larger audience what it would be like to visit that museum and see a whole bunch of Peanuts originals and other Schulz drawings, full-size, up on walls with good light.
Only What’s Necessary has a lot of words up front, mostly about how wonderful Schulz was and how awesome his museum is now. I assume anyone reading this book will already believe all of that, but I suppose a book does need to have words in it, and these are appropriate. Contributors include Jean Schulz, the artist’s widow and head of that museum, Jeff Kinney, the “Wimpy Kid” creator, and Paige Braddock, cartoonist and creative head of the arm of the Schulz media empire that manages licensed properties (and, way back at the beginning of her tenure, the strip itself).
But the main purpose of the book is not the words – or, at least, not the words by other people. We do want to see Schulz’s captions and dialogue, and to try to untangle his crabbed script on sketches. (Though I have to admit I had very little luck at that.) The art was photographed by Geoff Spear, who has worked with Kidd on a lot of these projects. It’s the kind of work that doesn’t get noticed much by readers like me (maybe like you, too), but the art is crisp and clear, and all of those artifacts of drawing are as clear in the photos as I can imagine them being.
Kidd doesn’t have a formal organizational principle for the book – it’s roughly chronological by phases of Schulz’s career, which is all it needs. The focus is mostly on the strips themselves, as it should be, but there’s a lot of ancillary materials – comic books and magazine covers, games and toys – as well as abandoned strips, a few early drawings, and just a couple basically complete strips that never made it into newspapers.
So this is a book with a lot of impressive Schulz art in it, presented well and often blown up to make it easier to see the little details. I probably didn’t take as much time lingering over every page as some readers would, but I enjoyed it a lot, and was reminded yet again of the paradoxical truth of cartooning: it’s harder to make fewer lines; the simplest drawings are the most focused and precise.
You need to be seriously interested in a creator to go for an art book of their work – otherwise you just read the work. But if you’ve dug into a lot of Peanuts, and in particular if you like the way Schulz drew and would like to draw more like that yourself, this is a book with a lot of examples and (potentially) lessons to teach.
Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.
