We Call Upon the Author to Explain—Angie Kang

Tassneem Abdulwahab: I wanted to start us off by talking about the color scheme. The contrast of the blue, yellow, and purple is spectacular—can you tell me more about why you chose these specific colors?

Angie Kang: First of all, I wanted to create a difference between the present and past. I wanted the past to feel like the sun is kind of beaming through Little Brother’s closed eyes as he’s remembering things—that’s the hot reds that you see there. Often the past is represented in sepia or muted colors, but in this story, the past is more vibrant because it’s literally full of more life. The colors in the past are a little more naturalistic and more comforting because their father is still there, whereas after he’s gone, the world is changed; the landscape looks stranger without him there. So in the present, the water is a little more purple, perhaps darker and a little less welcoming.

Also, I chose the colors of the brothers’ clothes deliberately: the Little Brother wears a red shirt, and Older Brother wears the same red hat that their father had—that red color becomes one that embodies the dad, so this way they both get to keep a part of him with them. There’s also a little red bird hidden in some of the pages, which I wanted to use to represent Father’s spirit. I chose his hat color first and the bird color second, though I recently learned a red cardinal is a sign of people’s loved ones returning to them after they’ve passed away, which was a very happy coincidence! Little Brother also carries this little teal-striped towel, which is the same teal as the water in the past, and that teal returns once more as a manifestation of Father’s laughter.

TA: You’re giving me great jumping points! The hat felt like such a central object in the narrative; it’s there with us throughout the journey, and on the last page, the perspective makes it seem like the hat is almost watching over them. Can you tell me more about its symbolism in the story?

AK: I’m so glad you noticed that! This hat is definitely a stand-in for Father, and I also wanted it to feel like an emblem of all the responsibilities of being someone who takes care of family. Because Father gives Older Brother his hat, he has also symbolically passed on his duties of care to him. Older Brother brings the younger brother to the lake, encourages him, and models the rituals of diving. I wanted Older Brother to seem as though he had everything handled in the beginning of the story while he has this hat on, but then when the brothers are both in the lake and Older Brother has shed the hat, he becomes more physically and emotionally vulnerable. There’s this moment at the end of the book where Little Brother recognizes Older Brother’s grief too, and we see them both being a little bit more emotionally open. Just two kids trying to figure it out together.

I think the beautiful thing about a hat is that it keeps the shape of a human head. It shows a lack. Even when it’s on the ground, we sense that Father is truly looking over them. At one point, his hat was so intimately molded to him that now the shape of it preserves his presence, even in his absence.

TA: Your writing is wonderfully authentic with lines like, “His smile is crooked, as if half of him is happy and half of him is not.” Can you tell me more about the way you’ve approached writing about grief for such a young audience?

AK: It’s interesting because this book initially began as a poem I had written while looking at a painting by Milton Avery, as a part of an ekphrasis practice. I think the important thing was that I wasn’t writing for children, at least initially. I’ve always been interested in children’s literature, but I think there’s a switch that can happen when I sit down to write for kids: I’m often trying to write what I think a children’s book sounds like. I’ve written many failed manuscripts that way, but because I started the first draft of Our Lake in a place for myself and for adults, I stayed in this register where I was able to meet kids where they’re at. They’re so much more brilliant than folks give them credit for. There’s this Maurice Sendak quote where he says: “I don’t write for children. I write and someone says it’s for children.” I feel a real kinship to that. I also try to make emotions felt with familiar language used unfamiliarly as opposed to what might be unfamiliar language to kids used correctly.

TA: Do you write with the parents also in mind, seeing as they’re the first consumer of your books?

AK: Honestly, not really. If I have them in mind, it’s only because I think that picture books are for everyone, and I hope that it reaches both children and adults. I feel like in many ways I’m writing for myself as an adult but then also writing for the child nestled within myself. I also deliberately try not to think about how people might read two young boys going off to this dangerous location by themselves because I think there’s a different logic to picture book narratives where children are allowed more freedom. Here, the ordinarily dangerous situation might allow for processing and understanding the real emotional impact of grief as opposed to a literal portrayal of two kids diving off a high point by themselves. I always try to prioritize the children’s emotional landscape over a literal one.

TA: Speaking of landscapes, why did you choose the lake as the setting? Is there a significance to the setting being a body of water?

AK: I have to admit that I just love painting water! I think there’s so many different ways that you can approach the surface of it and what goes underneath. And water just has so many symbolic qualities—there’s the literary idea of rebirth, and catharsis through tears. And water holds onto things—literally, through surface tension. When you exit the water, it almost feels like it doesn’t want to let you go, which also plays into themes of grief and comfort. It’s very powerful to me to imagine all the memories held in the basin of a lake. Also, the climax of the story is when Little Brother sees the reflection of Father in the lake. I love that you can both look at water as a surface but then enter within, so in that way, Little Brother was diving into his father’s embrace after he “sees” him.

TA: Going back to details, I noticed this beautiful Polaroid of Father, Little Brother, and Older Brother on the imprint page. Was that a detail you simply wanted to add or does it have a particular significance?

AK: I actually added that in the end because I felt like I wanted to see the three of them all together in another image. We see the three of them when they’re younger in a memory, but I think there’s something charming and real about the Polaroid feeling awkward and cut off in the way that happens sometimes when children are taking pictures. I loved that the art director Jasmin Rubero placed the Polaroid across from the previous page, where Father isn’t there (only his hat is), but the text says they’re all in the lake together.

TA: Seeing as this is a picture book, do you ever find yourself deciding to convey a portion in illustration instead of writing and vice versa, and how do you achieve that balance?

AK: That’s a question that’s at the heart of picture book making! People tend to think that the illustrations just repeat what the words are saying, but the art is essential in telling another part of the story. I am definitely always trying to consider what goes in the words vs. what goes in the images. Sometimes I’ll consider the words finalized, but then as I’m sketching, I realize that  actually I want to paint it. Then I have to change the text, so it’s not redundant.

I also think of choosing the moment to illustrate as finding the right freeze frame. If the words are describing a moment that’s ten seconds long, you can drag an imaginary slider across those ten seconds and find which moment is the best. For instance, in the spread where Little Brother is diving into a lake, I had sketched out Little Brother hitting the water because I was responding to the part of my text which says he slips neatly into the lake. But then I decided to save the contact of the water for Little Brother’s climax of the story so that we get to experience catharsis along with the character whose interiority we’re following. Since we’re in Little Brother’s point of view, I also wanted us to see him watching Older Brother.

The nice thing you can do when you’re the author-illustrator is the flexibility of choosing what parts to illustrate vs. write. 

TA: “Now, I’ve become an arrow the way Father taught me” really grabbed my attention. Why did you use the arrow in particular as a metaphor for the moment Little Brother dives?

AK: I just like the idea that arrows fly, and because when he dives, he becomes sharp and targeted, like an arrow finding its mark.

TA: Even though this is very much a 2D medium, illustrations like the one where Little Brother is standing on the edge of the cliff feel very visceral. How did you achieve that effect?

AK: I’m really glad you responded to that one! Even though the text says, “I inch forward until my toes meet the edge,” I needed to negotiate what was literally shown and what wasn’t. I was trying to draw him literally at the edge of the cliff at first until I realized that feels really dangerous to me as a viewer. Instead, I chose to represent his headspace—he feels like his toes are at the edge even though he’s really not that close to it. How he feels is what’s important, and the dramatic perspective adds to that psychology of him feeling like it’s super far away from the water, even if maybe in reality it’s not so distant after all.

TA: I’m opening the floor to you—is there anything you really want to to speak about that I may have not noticed?

AK: You’ve noticed so many thoughtful details, and I’m so grateful that you spent so much time with the book and read it so closely. It’s like that quote in the movie Ladybird, where when you pay attention to something, that’s a form of love. I feel like you showed a lot of love and attention to this book, so I really appreciate it!

TA: Are there any upcoming projects we should be on the lookout for?

AK: I illustrated a book called Navigating Night (Anne Schwartz Books, 2026) that just came out. It’s written by Julie Leung and it’s about a girl and her father who deliver takeout food together at night. The girl is her father’s translator and navigator, and she gets frustrated at not being able to be a “normal kid.” Throughout the night, the father tells the girl a bit more about his past, and they eventually reach an understanding. It was a really fun book to work on, and I got to experiment with table-salt in my illustration process!

I also have my next author-illustrated title coming out next spring called My Grandma the Stranger (Kokila, 2027)! This one is very personal to me, and I’m excited (and nervous) to see how it’s received by the world and readers!

Our Lake is available from Kokila

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Angie Kang makes art in LA. She is the author/illustrator of OUR LAKE (Kokila) which received a Caldecott Honor, the Charlotte Zolotow Award, the Dilys Evans Founder’s Award, and was featured on “Best of” lists by NPR, Publishers Weekly, Kirkus, School Library Journal, Horn Book, and more. She is also the illustrator of NAVIGATING NIGHT, written by Julie Leung (Anne Schwartz Books). Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, The Believer, Best Small Fictions, and elsewhere. She is a 2026 Sendak Fellow, the 2024 Ezra Jack Keats Fellow at MacDowell, and was shortlisted for the 2023 Cartoonist Studio Prize. Find her at angiekang.net or on Instagram @anqiekanq.

Tassneem Abdulwahab is a writer, editor, and book reviewer. With a strong interest in culture, history, and psychology and a love for fiction, her writing often draws on one or more of these threads to tell character-centric stories. She earned her BA (Hons) Creative and Professional Writing from UWE Bristol and has been in love with publishing ever since. As an artist, she’s most fond of oil painting and has sold several pieces over the last few years. In her free time, you can find her experimenting with new artistic mediums, researching for her next painting, or going down historical rabbit holes. You can read some of her writing on her Substack.