2005 BORN TO READ Conference — Ashley Bryan

Author-illustrator delves deep to unlock the meanings of words by Meike Jenness

Portland Press Herald, Thursday, May 12, 2005
© 2005 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc.

In his enthusiasm for sharing the power and beauty of words in prose and poetry, he is irrepressible. And of his illustrations and other artwork, the words colorful and vigorous come to mind.

Meet Ashley Bryan.

Which some 150 people did last Friday evening. Given the option of taking advantage of the many other cultural events to go to on Friday, they chose to go to Portland High School's John Ford Theatre. That's where the Maine Humanities Council held a Born to Read event, at which Bryan was the main attraction. The vast majority of those who attended were not children.

It's impossible not to gush when mentioning Bryan.

Bryan, of Islesford, is an author and illustrator of children's books whom council board member Lois Lamdin, in her opening remarks, described as a cross between Bill Cosby and Shakespeare.

"I would rather listen to Ashley Bryan than talk about him," Lamdin concluded.

Listening to Bryan is not hard. He brings out the meaning of the words he uses in a poem or piece of prose. He reads loudly or softly depending on the context. And he moves constantly.

Bryan bounds to the podium, with open book in hand, and asks the audience, "Who am I?" The reason for the question? So children and parents will know his name when checking his books out at the library or buying them at a bookstore.

He then segues into a poem by Langston Hughes. Bryan always starts his program with a Hughes poem, he says.

"My people, the night is beautiful, so the faces of my people," he recites. Contrary to what some people might think, Bryan is not thinking only of black people when he quotes from the poem. He says the poem is about love for people and of oneself.

Apart from Hughes' poems, Bryan also cites the works of other African-American poets such as New York's Nikki Giovanni and Washington, D.C.-based Eloise Greenfield to illustrate contrasts in expressions and interpretations. He does this because their works are often excluded from the mainstream poetry reading circuit and textbooks.

From the list of his favorite poets, Bryan shares what he describes as one of loudest poems in the English language, ""Baby." You can't help but be loud when reading "Baby" says Bryan:

Albert!
Hey Albert!
Don't you play in that road!

He also shares poems that he says represent some of the quietest poems in the English language. From Hughes, he chooses "The Dream Keeper" and from Giovanni he makes a selection from The Sun is So Quiet collection. He says there's a sweet, lyrical, Mother Goose nursery rhyme quality in Giovanni's poems. "Here is a black poet creating in the English language," he says. It's the language that connects us.

This comment leads him to make connections with the English as a Second Language learners at Reiche School in Portland, which he had visited earlier in the week. "They are learning the English language at Reiche School," says Bryan. "They'll be giving poems and writings like Nikki Giovanni."

At an earlier engagement, Bryan said he tells teachers to give children three weeks with a poem before asking them to read it aloud. Bryan reads poems publicly that he has practiced reading for weeks, he says. It is not only a matter of practice making perfect, but a matter of the words guiding one to more than just an understanding, but a feel for them - the mood they evoke and motion.

"I use poetry to open up the sound of the voice in the printed word," he says.

If Bryan's poetry reading is all about hearing poetry performed, the same can be said about his prose readings.

At Friday's program, Bryan read a folktale from Zambia that celebrates blackness. The story is about a blackbird that is admired by all the other different-colored birds. All the other birds want a bit of black to rub off on them. Their wishes are met in due course. And all live happily ever after.

Born and raised in the Bronx, N.Y., by parents from Antigua, Bryan enjoyed drawing at an early age. Engaging children in the arts and encouraging them to create things that last, such as drawings, are important, he says. So, he always ends his program with the poem, "Things," about things that come and go, as an object lesson.

Went to the corner
Went to the store
Bought me some candy
Ain't got it no more
Ain't got it no more

Meike Jenness of Peaks Island is a freelance writer and occasional videographer. She can be contacted at meikiej@hotmail.com.