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Shaun Tan - "Never Step on a Snail" - oil on canvas
Never Step on a Snail
Oil on canvas by Shaun Tan (2012).
Artwork size: 86 x 76 cm (33.9" x 29.9")
Frame size: 88.5 x 78.5 x 4.7 cm (34.8" x 30.9" x 1.9")
"At first glance, I think the picture ‘Never step on a snail’ is simply amusing, a bit like a cartoon with a caption. But the concept of an irrational world governed by arbitrary rules is one that children especially can appreciate. Reality is so full of surprising inconsistencies, and this might explain a human vulnerability to superstition, such as the fear of stepping on a pavement cracks or breaking a mirror. Within such warped notions of causality is a deeper awareness of one’s own basic ignorance, of never really knowing how the world works. Even for an adult, there are often disproportionate consequences following innocent actions, from social gaffes to car accidents. Ideas of fault, blame and guilt follow, but it’s hard to absolve regret about something that’s actually blameless, or deal with the frustration of a law that’s either unknown, entirely illogical or both, like a snail-avenging tornado."
"I spent a lot of time with this painting adjusting the colour of the sky, originally it was dark and brooding as would be normal with an approaching twister, but there was something appealing about the cheerful blue behind the black tornado that emphasizes the absurd quality of the event (and this sometimes happens in real life storms, the surrounding weather can seem perfectly fine). Looking also at the trees, it’s as if everything in the landscape is very still, quiet and sunny, the funnel all the more supernatural, selectively destroying a particular house. There’s some suggestion that the drama of a tornado is not entirely unwelcome in this place of repetitive lawns and architecture. And a thrill in knowing that a small action can so easily trigger a disaster. The transgression, the crushed snail, may not have been accidental."
"As for the relationship between the snail and the tornado, it rests only on similarity and contrast. They both have a spiral forms, but moving in completely different time universes: a slow and gentle uncoiling versus high-speed carnage. And of course playing with scale shifts between big and small things, as with many other pictures in this book, is always fun. A wily crow looks on from the sidelines, only interested in the next mistake. As with many paintings in this book, I’m interested in how words and pictures can build an interesting context for each other: the text refers to an invisible snail, the picture is dominated by an unmentioned tornado. Neither word nor image actually explain one another, yet they are inseparable parts of the same idea." —Shaun Tan