When my daughter Dare Coulter heard she had won the Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award, she screamed. So did I, and the rest of our family, as we gathered around computer screens like they gathered around TV consoles back in the day. This was important news recognizing important work.
R. Alnita Coulter and Dare Coulter. Photo courtesy of R. Alnita Coulter. |
When my daughter Dare Coulter heard she had won the Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award, she screamed. So did I, and the rest of our family, as we gathered around computer screens like they gathered around TV consoles back in the day. This was important news recognizing important work.
It was exciting for Dare to work with Kwame Alexander, but winning this award for her first traditionally published book raised the dream to a higher level. I told Kwame that he had put a call out to the universe, and Dare had answered it.
Before you see Dare, you’ll hear her laughter. She towers above people in platform boots, outfitted in her signature yellow color, and passes out hugs freely. In those boots she is larger than life. During school visits, kids excitedly offer up anything they have, including arms or foreheads, for her to autograph. She wears big boots to represent her big dreams and quickly reminds anyone she encounters to live theirs. That is part of what makes her special. Dare makes art an experience even for those who never considered loving art. Her pieces move people — to tears, to action — but always to a larger experience.
Kwame asked, “How do you tell a story…?” Dare struggled with a different question. How do you illustrate the resilience of a people who were snatched from their lives? She combined paintings and sculptures to render a tale that was so big it demanded to be told with more than just one medium.
Dare was determined to fill this book with images of their triumphs, truths, and power. One scene depicts a father smiling with his two children. Unbeknownst to the reader, the father’s back is covered in whip marks. Kwame asked why Dare would bother making these marks if no one would see them. She said it was a reminder that good things can still happen when things are bad.
This commitment to spreading joy started early. As a child, Dare created a daily parade of four to five art pieces on the biggest pieces of paper she could find. I advised her to scale down her pictures to fit people’s walls (but she didn’t).
Now people pay her to cover their walls with art. The ACLU commissioned her first permanent mural, which featured iconic moments of protests. She also painted the Nile Project mural in conjunction with her alma mater, North Carolina State University, and a two-hundred-foot mural honoring Black cowboys (including her grandfather) with Kotis Street Art.
Dare has always been drawn to books — partially because our home was filled with more than two thousand of them. Sometimes she read several at the same time, and she would often read while walking. So, it’s quite fitting that now she illustrates them.
Young Dare won numerous awards for her paintings, but when she touched clay in Holly Fischer’s sculpting class at Meredith College, magic happened. Her hands fell into a natural rhythm as the clay called to her, and her imagination responded. I told her, “Girl, you’re a great painter, but you’re going to be an even better sculptor.” She instantly knew this.
As a single mother of three, it was difficult to provide the building blocks for her art, but I was determined that money wouldn’t stop her. When Dare decided to be an artist professionally, I told her she didn’t have to be a starving or tortured artist to be successful. Her winning such a significant award early in her career, and the example of the amazing literary giants that are lighting her way, affirm that statement.
I once gave Dare a card that said, “We are still flying towards our dreams!” Several years later, she had it tattooed on her forearm. With so many incredible successes, it’s time to change it to: “We’re flying towards even bigger dreams!” This award is one brushstroke at the beginning of a bigger painting of a life of dreams that dared to be lived.
Some heroes wear capes — mine wears big boots. Thanks for giving flight to my daughter’s dreams. I love you and am so unbelievably proud of you, Girl Child!
— Captain Mom
From the July/August 2024 issue of The Horn Book Magazine: Special Issue: ALA Awards. For more speeches, profiles, and articles, click the tag ALA 2024.
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