The Art of Advent: Day Twenty Four
By Toby Berryman
‘Twas the day before Christmas, when all through HASTA, our writers’ laptops were whirring, and pencils moving faster! With presents of all shapes and sizes wrapped up (optimistic, I know) and the final Advent chocolate devoured (if any had survived thus far!), we have reached the finale of HASTA’s Christmas countdown…
And so, whilst I jot down these festive ramblings amidst the bustle of London’s Paddington Station, with the jingles of Chris Rea, Wham!, and Mariah Carey ringing in my ears and a uniquely-Christmassy Salvation Army Brass Band echoing in the far distance, it is hardly surprising that I am reminded of the crux of Chrimbo for many; tradition(s).
Much as my own week so far has been consumed by the classics, new and old, from The Royal Ballet’s The Nutcracker to The Old Vic’s A Christmas Carol and just about every street of Christmas lights in between, we all celebrate the festive period (in spite of its uniting message) with a unique variety of artistic entertainment and experiences. Whether you decorate your house to the nines, produce your own holiday cards, or obsessively watch and re-watch a favourite festive film, our highly-individualised celebration of the Christmas period is often deeply important to families and friends.
Yet, on this 24th December, there is one tradition that brings the population together in their tens of millions. Not Carols from Kings, not even Elf, but an almost half-century-old wordless and animated tale of The Snowman. Oscar-Nominated and even introduced by David Bowie, this lauded adaptation of Raymond Briggs’ iconic picture-book is seen as remarkably joyous; enlivened by Howard Blake’s symphonic score, an enchanting performance of ‘Walking in the Air’, and most importantly a poignant retention of the human artistic touch of Briggs’ legendary illustrations in its defiant stylised animation.
Raymonds Briggs, The Snowman, 1982. Animation celluloid 10 x 12 inches.
However, this jovial festive pleasantry does not so much align with Briggs’ own understanding of the Christmas period. Whilst The Snowman’s gifts and even the presence of Father Christmas were begrudged additions to the film only (Raymond Briggs’ earlier Father Christmas actually depicts him as old and burdened, proclaiming “I hate winter!”), Briggs’ artistic output has instead retained a focus on the distinctly morbid inevitability of death. Much as When the Wind Blows had terrified a generation cowering at the prospect of nuclear war, and the brutal realism of Ethel & Ernest had exposed mid-century society, The Snowman’s marked temporality is exemplified in Briggs’ devastating final panel; whereby the boy discovers a melted puddle topped by the hat and scarf which had once distinguished The Snowman.
Raymonds Briggs, The Snowman [final panel], 1978. Coloured Pencil on Paper.
Therefore, this Christmas, not only must we remember the artists whose role is ever-prominent in our celebrations (be that a Briggsian illustrator, festive-card painter, or even the graphic designer responsible for the wrapping paper which we will all tear into tomorrow – art is everywhere), but most importantly it is vital that we retain a principal gratitude, for as Briggs indicates, this life is not eternal.
Bibliography
Bailey, J. M. “Raymond Briggs, Who Drew a Wordless ‘Snowman’, Dies at 88”. The New York Times. August 10, 2022. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/10/books/raymond-briggs-dead.html.
British Film Institute – Opeyokun, V. “Snowman, The (1982)”. ScreenOnline: The Definitive Guide to Britain’s Film and TV History. http://www.screenonline.org.uk/film/id/530124/.
Heritage, S. “‘We’ll Still be Watching in 50 Years’: How Raymond Briggs’s The Snowman Changed Christmas”. The Guardian. August 10, 2022. https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/aug/10/well-still-be-watching-in-50-years-how-raymond-briggss-the-snowman-changed-christmas.