Angie Kang
Angie Kang
Full-page Illustration for Aesop's "The Wind and the Sun"

Picture Book Illustrations

Full-page Illustration for Aesop's "The Wind and the Sun"

Full-page Illustration for Aesop's "The Wind and the Sun"

Watercolor, pastel, pen

Spot Illustration for Aesop's "The Wind and the Sun"

Spot Illustration for Aesop's "The Wind and the Sun"

Watercolor, pen

Escaping Neverland

A story about a boy who finds his way home. Based on J.M. Barrie’s Peter and Wendy. Written and illustrated by Angie Kang.

Oil on masonite

Front

Front

Spread I

Spread I

Spread II

Spread II

My earliest memory of my house was my parents’ refusal to look me in the eyes after I told them I wanted to wear a suit to church instead of a dress.

Detail of Spread II

Detail of Spread II

Detail of Spread II

Detail of Spread II

Spread III

Spread III

He found me on the bridge, looking over the edge. I wasn’t going to jump – I had only been wondering what it would be like to fly. I still wonder how many people have jumped off bridges trying to fly away.

Spread IV

Spread IV

He called them Nibs, Tootles, Slightly, Curly, Twin One and Twin Two. I told him to call me Wendell, and he smiled something crooked and clinquant. Welcome to Neverland, he said.

Detail of Spread IV

Detail of Spread IV

Spread V

Spread V

They were my family. We chopped off each other’s hair and threw them in the sky like fairy dust. He taught us to dance around makeshift fires and gave us unripe berries to eat to freeze time, or at least freeze ourselves in that time forever before the chemicals in our bloodstream would change our voices and give us breasts. Every sunset meant another day had gone, so at dusk we all sang to the smoggy sunsets in a fierce defiance of the universe.

Spread VI

Spread VI

I was happy. Or I wanted to be.

Spread VII

Spread VII

He found them first, the missing posters. The posters that had a picture of me in frills and a skirt and hair that touched my shoulders. I didn’t look at them too closely -- didn’t want to see little Wendy staring at me, a reflection distorted in ink and layers of time. But he stared at the text for a long time, and then pointed out one word. That night, he told me to go home and walked me there in the dark, just us.

Detail of Spread VII

Detail of Spread VII

Detail of Spread VII

Detail of Spread VII

Spread VIII

Spread VIII

My parents opened the door after one knock, and by the time I escaped from their embrace for a breath of air, Peter disappeared.

Spread IX

Spread IX

He had called us the Lost Boys, but I had never actually felt lost with them. It’s funny though; only when I felt my dad’s tears on my face had I realized that then, I was truly found.

Side Detail

Side Detail