A man strides along with a huge blue bowl—and a dog—on his head. Another man waves a stick at a bird on a nearby rooftop. People flip and totter on a strange structure. What's going on? Porte (Chickens! Chickens!, 1995, etc.) has chosen paintings from an artist of the 1930s and 40s, and giving her imagination free rein, has created scenarios for each, recalling folktales (sources diligently cited at the end) or making up her own to accompany these often-startling figures and constructions. Traylor, born a slave, labored in such obscurity that even the date of his death is a matter of dispute; his art, done in a naive style with pencil, crayon, and poster paint on cardboard or other humble surfaces, seems childlike at first, but conveys strong feelings in gestures and expressions. The pictures have a pervasive ambiguity that invites just the sort of speculative reverie Porte falls into. This may well change the way readers look at art in general; those who want to see more of Traylor's work should track down Mary E. Lyons's Deep Blues: Bill Traylor, Self-Taught Artist (1994). (Short stories. 8-10)