Vacation Blog

Charles Demuth (1883–1935 US), Stairs, Provincetown, 1920. Gouache and pencil on board, 23 1/2" x 19 1/2" (59.7 x 49.5 cm). © The Museum of Modern Art, New York. (MOMA-P4200)

I’m off on a week’s vacation in Provincetown, which, as you may know, has been the home of a thriving art colony since the late 1800s. The Provincetown Art Association was founded in 1914, encouraging summer students to paint by the sea (which they still do), with a lot of modernism influence from European artists who had migrated here. I have learned that for two decades there was a resistance to the influx on modernism in Ptown, but, it persisted as one of the most active locations for modern experiment in America, especially after the Great Depression (1929–1940). Let’s look at some artists who worked in Ptown. I always think of Charles Demuth first when I think if Ptown, because of all the American modernists of his period, he, most of all, took influences from European modernism and created a truly American vision of it.

Initially trained at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, already before World War I (1914–1918) he had abandoned his academic training to concentrate on watercolors and gouache. These were coming into their own as standalone media, embraced by artists who experimented with modernism due to their easy fluidity. Demuth ultimately became a master of water-based media on a par with Winslow Homer (1836–1910) and John Singer Sargent (1856–1925).

His mature style was informed by Cubism he had seen at the 1913 Armory Show of European modernism, as well as from his group of friends in New York. They included Marcel Duchamp (1887–1968), the pioneer Dadaist and Surrealist, and Marsden Hartley (1877–1943), an American modernist who had dabbled in non-objective abstraction after stays in Germany and Paris. He was also a steady participant in Alfred Stieglitz’s (1864–1946) modernist experimental Gallery 291 in New York, where Demuth’s works mirrored the modernist experiments of Georgia O’Keeffe (1887–1986) and photographer Paul Strand (1890–1976), whose reductive, close-up, angled works have been given the name Precisionism.

Demuth, while influenced by modernist experiment, kept his work firmly rooted in his American experience—his life growing up in Lancaster, PA, and his summers in Provincetown, where he produced this gorgeous, Cubistic work. I swear I’ve seen these stairs on my many trips to Ptown. And you can bet I’ll take watercolors to Ptown so that I can do a pale imitation of some of these great artists who painted there and possibly soak up their auras!

Blanche Lazzell (1878–1956, US), Sketch for an Abstraction, 1924. Graphite on paper, 10 5/8" x 8 1/4" (27 x 21 cm). Brooklyn Museum. © 2015 Blanche Lazzell Estate, West Virginia University, Morgantown. (BMA-5111)

American art retreated from modernist experiment that had flourished before World War I, mostly because Americans—tired of the horrors of the European war—rejected anything European, including abstraction. There was a brave group of artists who founded the group American Abstract Artists in 1936 in New York to promote such work in this country. Blanche Lazzell was one of the original members of that group.

Born in West Virginia, Lazzell knew by the first decade of the 1900s that she wanted to be an independent-thinking woman artist. She studied at the University of West Virginia, and at the Art Students League in New York. She, however, rejected academic avenues and travelled to Europe in 1912, where she became enthralled with the copious amounts of experimentation in abstraction. She stayed in Paris a year and returned to West Virginian in 1913. In 1915, she went to the Provincetown Cape Cod School of Art for the summer. She went back in 1916, when she became proficient in woodblock printing. In 1918 she moved to Ptown permanently.

This study for a painting was quite revolutionary, when viewed in comparison to what was dominating American art at the time: American Scene Painting. It shows a personal adaptation of the Cubist visual vocabulary.

Karl Knaths (1891–1971, US), Geranium in Night Window, 1922. Oil on canvas, 24" x 20 1/8" (60.9 x 51.1 cm). The Phillips Collection, Washington, DC. (PC-198)

One of my favorite American modernists from the Ptown period is Karl Knaths, maybe because his name is Karl or because he’s a Midwesterner, like me, and maybe because he studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where I also went briefly. Born in Wisconsin, he studied in Chicago, where he received academic training in painting for four years starting in 1912. When the 1913 Armory Show traveled  to Chicago, Knaths was a student guard for the exhibition, and was immediately drawn to the modernism he saw from European artists, particulary the Cubism of Picasso, but especially by the late, faceted landscapes of Paul Cézanne (1839–1906).

Knaths was one of many modernists who never studied abroad, but garnered rich influence from European abstraction through personal research in literature, and contact with other American artists interested in modernism. He was particularly affected by Vasili Kandinsky’s (1866–1944) book “On the Spiritual in Art,” which inspired Knaths to make a connection between his painting and music. In 1919 Knaths moved to Ptown, finding an active community of artists interested in modern experiment, away from east coast cities that were then dominated by American Scene Painting. During the course of the 1920s, Knaths was an active voice advocating for a more prominent place for modernist artists in annual Ptown exhibitions. In 1927 he helped establish a separate annual exhibition for modernism there.

Knath’s beautiful, personal version of Cubism combined the faceting seen in the work of Braque and Picasso with the bright palette of Juan Gris (1887–1927). By the 1930s he had established a strict formula for his abstraction, based partly on Mondrian and Kandinsky, although his work never strayed totally for physical reality.

Hans Hofmann (1880–1966, US born Germany), Still Life, 1939. Oil on board, 35" x 30 15/16" (89 x 76 cm). Private Collection. Photo courtesy of Richard Gray Gallery, Chicago. © 2015 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (8S-17511hmars)

Oh boy, I have a lot of favorites when it comes to painters who love COLOR, and Hans Hofmann is one of them! As a German who studied in Paris, rather than Berlin, to absorb modernism, Hofmann’s painting style is an amazing synthesis of Cubism, Fauvism, and Expressionism, which I think you can see in this painting.

After teaching in Germany, Hofmann was invited to teach in the US in 1932. Fortunately he stayed here, because Hofmann’s contribution to the development of Abstract Expressionism and an indigenous American modernist movement cannot be undervalued. When he arrived in 1932, he found American art stagnating in the Ash Can School, Social Realism, and American Scene Painting. He recognized that American modernism was “repressed,” and needed a voice. He established the Summer School for Art in Provincetown in 1935. 

Hofmann not only transmitted the abstract vocabulary of Fauvism, Expressionism, and Cubism to his American pupils. The modernism that grew out of their experience with Hofmann was further energized by the particularly American energy that resulted after the US emerged as a superpower after World War II (1939–1945). By 1937, due in large part to Hofmann’s considerable persona, modernism became part of the annual exhibitions in Ptown. Many of the Abstract Expressionists and their circle were Hofmann students in Ptown, including Jackson Pollock (1912–1956) and Arshile Gorky (1904–1948).

Robert Motherwell (1915–1991, US), Personage with Yellow, Ochre and White, 1947. Oil on canvas, 71 15/16" x 53 15/16" (182.8 x 137 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2015 Robert Motherwell Estate / Licensed by VAGA, New York. (MOMA-P1947movg)

I will admit that I did a little happy dance four winters ago when I discovered Robert Motherwell’s studio/house on Commercial Street in Ptown. It was right after I had begun to really dig into the importance Provincetown played in the development of American Modernism, and it just felt like one more verification that I was on the right track in my ideas about a phenomenon that does not get a heck of a lot of coverage in American art history texts.

Like Arshile Gorky and William Baziotes (1912–1963), Motherwell was one of the Abstract Expressionists most impacted by Surrealism in his work. He trained under Swiss-American Surrealist Kurt Seligmann (1900–1962) in New York in 1941. In 1943, the Chilean Surrealist Robert Matta (Roberto Sebastián Antonio Matta Echaurren) (1911–2002) encouraged Motherwell to explore collage, a medium to which he would frequently return. Matta had studied with Hans Hofmann in Ptown. Motherwell’s earliest paintings were combinations of forms inspired by Picasso’s work, and ovoid and geometric shapes that would symbolize his later paintings.

Motherwell bought two studios/houses in Provincetown starting in the late 1950s, after he married fellow abstractionist Helen Frankenthaler (1928–2011). He enjoyed painting by the ocean, perhaps influenced by his upbringing in California.

Correlations to Davis programs:  Explorations in Art Grade 4: 6.35; Explorations in Art Grade 6: 5.25; A Community Connection: 2.2, 6.2, 7.4; Experience Painting: 2, 4, 6; Exploring Painting: 12, 7; The Visual Experience: 9.3, 16.6; Discovering Art History: 15.2, 17.1

A Realism Backlash?

Ernesto de Fiori (1884–1945, Germany, born Italy), Portrait of the Artist’s Wife, 1929. Tinted plaster, 13 7/8 x 6 x 7 1/2” (35.9 x 15.2 x 19.1 cm). © Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY. (AK-2380)

After the horrors experienced by Europeans in World War I (1914–1918), the brakes were more or less put on to the prevailing trend towards modernism and abstraction, although certainly many artists still pursued such goals. Of course the opposite of this was true with the Dada artists, a relatively small group at the time. In the “school” of Paris, artists such as Amedeo Modigliani (1884–1920) typified the sort of restrained abstraction tied to traditional subject matter and emphasis on recognizable form that emerged after the war. This charming sculpture comes from the between-the-wars period. It is by a very interesting artist, my Discovery of the Week: Ernest de Fiori. If art historians ever have trouble nailing classifications for artists’ styles, the between-the-wars period is a fertile period to explore. Let’s also look at other sculpture produced at the same time as de Fiori’s.

De Fiori studied art at the conservative Academy of Visual Arts in Munich starting in 1904. There he met and formed an artistic bond with the academic-romantic Swiss sculptor Hermann Haller (1880–1950) and the German romantic-Expressionist Karl Hofer (1878–1955). In Ernesto’s work I see a lot more of Hofer, and then in others I see a lot more of Haller, especially his full length figures writhing in academic angst. From 1911 to 1914 he lived in Paris, participating in the lively, experimental artistic milieu there, although he gravitated more toward the work of Paul Cézanne (1839–1906) and Auguste Rodin (1840–1917) than he did to Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) or Henri Matisse (1869–1954).

After serving briefly as an Italian newspaper correspondent during World War I (1914–1918), he went to Zurich from 1917 until 1921, when he moved to Berlin and became a German citizen. His time in Zurich was the period when the radical Dada group developed, whose manifesto questioned the very nature of art. Ernesto rejected Dadaism and wrote an article critical of its aims, saying that art should maintain a connection with tradition and express the sentiments and intuitions of the world, which he considered reborn, rather than destroyed by the war.

Ernesto’s sculpture, at first strongly influenced by Haller, during the 1920s, began to be less schematic, and more sensitive to the human form. His works had always shown the Expressionist tendency to reflect varied emotional states, from angst to tranquility. The 1920s was the period of Ernesto’s first portraits. This lovely portrait of his wife reflects the influence of the serene quality of Hofer’s paintings, the mottled surface of Rodin’s sculpture, and the serene psychological aura of his wife, something akin to the gentle romanticism of Paul Modersohn-Becker (1876-1907).

Isamu Noguchi (1904–1988 US), Portrait of Anna Marie Merkel, 1929. Bronze, 13 1/2" x 8 1/4" x 8" (34.3 x 21 x 20.3 cm). Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY. © 2015 Estate of Isamu Noguchi / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (AK-29ngars)

Noguchi was born in California, but spent much of his childhood in Japan with his father’s family. He moved to Indiana at 13. While in college, he took night courses in sculpture. A 1926 exhibition of Brancusi’s sculpture in New York had a profound impact on Noguchi. He abandoned his pre-medicine studies, obtained a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship, and went to Paris, working in Brancusi’s studio from 1927–1929.

Brancusi’s work of the early 1920s was realist, based on the night courses he took with the academic Italian sculpture Onorio Ruotolo (1888–1966). Inspired by Brancusi’s massively reduced forms, however, Noguchi developed a personal abstract, which often combined high finish with rough texture. The works have a lyrical expressiveness, respect for the natural material, and a mystic quality inherent in Japanese art, grounded in the reduction of form learned from Brancusi.

This portrait from his early period with Brancusi shows an awareness of the surfaces of Rodin, something reflected in Ernesto’s portrait. It also shows Noguchi’s innate ability to get to the heart of the subject, whether realistic or abstract.

Chana Orloff (1878–1968, France, born Ukraine), Head of a Woman, 1922. Bronze, 13" x 7 9/16" x 9 1/2" (33 x 19.3 x 24.2 cm). Photo © The Museum of Modern Art, New York  (MOMA-S1272)

Orloff was a Ukranian figurative sculptor. She immigrated to Palestine when she was eighteen because of the persecution Jews faced in Ukraine. Initially introduced to dressmaking as a vocation, she went to Paris in 1910 to study to be a teacher in the art form. Once there, she discovered her passion for art and never turned back to dressmaking. She studied at the Russian Academy in Montparnasse and befriended sculptor/painter Modigliani, the expressionist-abstract sculptor Ossip Zadkine (1890-1967, Belarus), and Lithuanian abstract sculptor Jacques Lipchitz (1891-1973), whose work at the time was figurative, bordering on Cubism.

Orloff herself was heavily influenced by Cubism in her early works. She first showed her work in the progressive Salon d’Automne in Paris in 1913, and by 1916 was showing in important exhibitions in Paris. Orloff’s reputation was well established by the 1920s, particularly for her portraits. Her work combined the reductive surfaces of Cubism, with a romanticism reminiscent of the work of Aristide Maillol (1861-1944).

Orloff was an important figure in the establishment of an indigenous modernist sculpture movement in Israel. Living in Paris, she received visits by many Jewish artists, Zionist leaders, students and Palestinian art lovers. She also made frequent visits to Palestine. Her first exhibit there was in 1935 in Tel Aviv. She was instrumental in the founding of the Tel Aviv Museum.

Ahron Ben-Shmuel (1903–1984, US), Pugilist, 1929. Granite, 21" x 13" x 12" (53.3 x 33 x 30.5 cm). Photo © The Museum of Modern Art, New York. (MOMA-S1314)

Ben-Shmuel began sculpting in his father’s taxidermy shop. He carved anything from pieces of chalk to rubble from construction sites. Already as a child he discovered that he had a sixth sense for bringing three-dimensional forms out of a variety of materials. His formal training was in a stone yard when he served a three-year apprenticeship as a monument (grave stone) sculptor. He also worked for other sculptors, reproducing their models in stone.

Ben-Shmuel’s “neoprimitive” style evolved from his study of archaic Greek sculpture, the sculpture of ancient Mesoamerican cultures, and Oceanic and African figure sculpture. The work from these cultures confirmed his belief that direct carving of hard materials was the foundation of a solid sculptural style. He sought in his work to physically “think out” his impressions in stone.

Like the unfinished male figures of Michelangelo (1475–1564) that are still part of a block of marble, Ben-Shmuel’s granite forms emerge from the block of stone into stylized, blocky forms that retain the density of the original material. Although powerful in silhouette, the carving is refined, even elegant. Pugilist was part of the landmark “First Municipal Art Exhibition” in New York in 1934.

Suffering from lung disease, Ben-Shmuel turned to painting in the mid-1930s, working in an abstract style. One of his pupils was Jackson Pollock (1912–1956).

Constantin Brancusi (1876–1957, France, born Romania), Mademoiselle Pogany II, 1920. Polished bronze, 17 1/4" x 7" x 10" (43.8 x 17.8 x 25.4 cm). Albright Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY. © 2015 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (AK-740bzars)

Brancusi's sculpture, although it defies connection with any one avant-garde style in the early 1900s, is universal in that every style that followed him seemed to embrace something from his aesthetic. He originally studied cabinetmaking, then sculpture, before moving to Paris in 1904. There he studied briefly under Rodin, although he rejected the dramatic, angst-ridden figures of that master as too traditional. While he admired Rodin's exploration of segmented natural forms, Brancusi was more interested in reducing such fragments of reality to the utmost simplification.

Brancusi was inspired by ancient, non-western cultures such as African and Oceania, and folk art traditions, any aesthetic that by-passed the western academic tradition. He worked with few themes, usually related to human forms, and rarely deserting the figure. This is the second version of his portrait of Margit Pogany (versions I and III are carved in marble). The figure is reduced to the most elementary of descriptive shapes. The features are reduced to faceted shapes reminiscent of Cubism, although Brancusi's forms contain an elegant decorativeness not evident in Cubist renditions of the human figure with the emphasis on elapsed time.

Sophie Taeuber-Arp (1889–1943, Switzerland), Dada Head, 1920. Painted wood with glass beads and wire, height: 9 1/4" (23.5 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2015 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (MOMA-S1246tuars)

We end this study of between-the-wars sculpture with one of the most important, pioneering women artists of the 20^th century: Sophie Taeber-Arp. She was not only influential in the Dada movement when it began (ca. 1915, Zurich), she was also a pioneering teacher in the early 1900s movement that led to the development of the Bauhaus, merging fine art with functional art.

Taeuber-Arp studied drawing in Davos and at the drawing school of the Museum of Industry and Design in Sankt Gallen. In 1910 she studied at the Reformed Art School in Munich, a ground-breaking school that taught the integration of visual and applied arts. She joined the Swiss Association of Workers in 1915, the same year she met her future husband Jean Arp (1886–1966). At the time Taeuber-Arp was creating collages, small sculptures from assorted common objects, and textile designs. She also performed at the Dada-Evenings at the Cabaret Voltaire and Galerie-Dada in Zurich.

Although the 1920s began her career path in textile and interior design, she continued to produce works in the Dada aesthetic. Please contrast this head, which Taeuber-Arp maintained was a portrait of a woman, with that of Ernesto. One can probably see the difference in aesthetic point of view! This head is a combination of found objects, something that the Dada artists pioneered, and that the Surrealists brought to perfection. It certainly lacks the “personal touch” of Ernesto’s portrait, although its mask-like appearance implies the influence of Oceanic and African masks that were such a major influence on modernist sculpture at the time.

Correlations to Davis programs: Explorations in Art Grade 3: 1.1, 1.2; Explorations in Art Grade: 4 1.2; Explorations in Art Grade: 5 1.1-2 studio; Explorations in Art Grade 6: 1.1, 1.4; A Community Connection: 3.2, 7.4; A Global Pursuit: 8.4; Beginning Sculpture: 2, 4, 5, 6; Explorating Visual Design: 8, 6; The Visual Experience: 10.2, 1013, 16.6; Discovering Art History: 14.3, 17.5

Recognize This Artist?

Louise Nevelson (1899–1988, American, born Ukraine), First Personage, 1956. Painted wood, frontal slab 94" x 37" x 11 1/4" (238.8 x 94.1 x 28.6 cm); spiky column 73 11/16" x 24 1/8" x 7 1/4" (187.2 x 61.4 x 18.4 cm). Brooklyn Museum, New York. © 2015 Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (BMA-4956nears)

When I was teaching art history, I guess I was a student’s worst nightmare, because on tests I would not show them images of the works that they had seen in the book and in class. Instead, I would give them other examples of the artist’s work. They had to figure out whose work was on the screen by what they had seen of the artist’s works in class. Of course, I would make it extremely easy by showing them works that were similar to what they had seen, since I knew none of them were committing themselves to life as an art historian (it’s not a bad thing, really). The examples in this post would definitely not have been fair attributions to spring on students if I wanted them to associate these works to what they had seen of Louise Nevelson. Even in my advanced years, I am not immune to being surprised by work that diverges from the iconic works we’ve become accustomed to seeing (and yes, First Personage and Hanging Column are from the same period as the “iconic” Sky Cathedral).

One revolution in sculpture took place in Europe in the second decade of the 1900s when artists began to construct, not carve or model, in three dimensions. These sculptures were composed of everyday materials, and Surrealist artists included discarded and found objects. Although assembled sculptures continued to be produced, in America Louise Nevelson was probably single-handedly responsible for bringing a new significance to the genre.

Although in the 1930s Nevelson’s sculpture was initially influenced by Cubism after she had studied under Chaim Gross (1904 \–1991), during the 1940s she came under the sway of Surrealism. In 1943, she created the first complete room environment in the history of American art with figures she constructed from natural and found objects, including tree trunks. It was at this time that she began collecting debris from the streets of New York. A trip to Mexico in 1950 helped solidify her sculptural vision after seeing ancient Mayan stele sculpture.

First Personage comes from the period between 1955 and 1958 when her one-person shows met with critical success. This was the period of her Sky Cathedral series, which is probably her most recognized type of work. Her found object works transcend Surrealism’s precious vision, adding monumentality and a classical air thanks to their scale.

Hanging Column (From Dawn’s Wedding Feast), 1959. Painted wood, left: 72" x 6 9/16" x 6 9/16" (182.8 x 16.7 x 16.7 cm), right: 72" x 10 1/8" (182.8 x 25.7 x 25.7 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2015 Estate of Louise Nevelson/ Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (MOMA-S0528nears)

The richly textured surfaces, such as Hanging Column (which resembles the Sky Cathedral mode) reflect the highly decorated surfaces of Mayan sculpture. The huge scale of her work (these are both 6 feet high) was compared by critics to Abstract Expressionism painting in that it challenged traditional notions of what sculpture was the way action painting did painting. However, such works also have affinity to Cubism’s multiple, overlapping planes. The scale, when shown with the Sky Cathedral scale works in her environments, shows an unavoidable similarity to the skyscrapers of New York, which Nevelson admitted were an inspiration.

Kneeling Horse, modeled 1932, cast before 1985. Bronze, 9" x 14" x 8" (22.9 x 35.6 x 20.3 cm). Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY. © 2015 Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (AK-1205nears)

This piece shows her Cubist beginnings while studying at the Art Students League under Chaim Gross. It could easily be mistaken for one of his works, I think.

Chaim Gross (1904–1991, US, born Austria), Handlebar Riders, 1935. Lignum vitae, height: 41 1/4" (104.7 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2015 Chaim Gross / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (MOMA-S0539gsars)

Correlations to Davis programs: Explorations in Art Grade 3: 4.vocab and content review; Explorations in Art Grade 4: 6.32, 6.35, 6.31-32 studio; Explorations in Art Grade 6: 1.4, 5.25; A Community Connection: 3.2, 8.4; A Global Pursuit: 9.2; Beginning Sculpture: 6; Exploring Visual Design: 2, 3; The Visual Experience: 10.2; 16.7; Discovering Art History: 17.5

African-American History Month #4

Marion Perkins (1901–1968, United States), Musician, ca. 1950. Limestone, height: 42 cm (16 1/2”). Private Collection © 2014 Estate of Marion Perkins. (8S-21915)

I know that February is over, but I wanted to present one more African American artist who has such a compelling body of work. Marion Perkins’ sculpture presents the rich tradition of African sculpture with a modern infusion of Cubism and simple abstraction. African sculpture—both masks and figurative works—were a major influence on abstraction in European sculpture and painting during the early 1900s. I’m loving the fact that in the mid 1900s, the tradition of simplification of form (a key element in abstraction) persisted in the works of African American artists such as Marion Perkins.

Born in Arkansas, Perkins subsequently grew up with an aunt on the South Side of Chicago. During the 1920s and 1930s, the South Side was a lively artistic community for artists, musicians, and authors, much akin to the Harlem Renaissance in New York. He was trained at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago in academic sculpture methods, but was drawn to modernist experiment in Europe at the time in the work of Constantin Brancusi (1876–1957), Amedeo Modigliani (1884–1920), and Jacques Lipchitz (1891–1973).

While Perkins was drawn to their simplification of surfaces, based in the Cubism movement, Perkins’ sculptures never strayed from the object. These European modernists had been influenced by African sculpture, and that was the driving forced behind Perkins' work. Although his work is reminiscent of the Cubist sculpture of the late 1910s, it reflects identification with African sculpture where the interest in subject is emphasized over formal concerns.

Perkins was actively involved in promoting the art of minorities in Chicago. In the 1950s, along with Margaret Burroughs (founder of the first museum dedicated to African American art, the DuSable Museum in Chicago) established yearly street fairs on the South Side of Chicago to highlight to art of young African Americans. They also founded the South Side Art Center, which encourage African American youth to get involved in the arts, including large-scale mural projects around the city of Chicago.

Correlations to Davis programs: Explorations in Art Grade 3: 1.3-4 studio; Explorations in Art Grade 4: 1.1-2 studio, 2.7-8 studio; Explorations in Art Grade 5: 1.3-4 studio; A Global Pursuit: 2.3

The Gettysburg Address and Art of Wartime

Isaac Dreyfus and Sons (printing firm, founded 1813, Basel, Switzerland), design by S. Chèvre (dates unknown), A. Lincoln, 1861. Lithograph(?) on silk ribbon, 21.6 x 12.4 cm (8 1/2 x 4 7/8”). © Library Company of Philadelphia. (LCP-65)

Last week was the 150^th anniversary of the Gettysburg Address, a ten-sentence ode to the fallen of the Battle of Gettysburg, 1863, of the Civil War (1861–1865). The death toll was over 51,000, a staggering number. President Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865) wrote a speech that still rings true in times of war. His noble wish for reconciliation in the midst of awful bloodshed caused me to muse on art that reflects times of war. All too often, however, it does not reflect Lincoln’s desire for peace. I always remember Yoda’s statement to Luke Skywalker after he had said his father was a great warrior, “Being a warrior does not make one great.”

This is a ribbon meant to commemorate Lincoln’s inauguration in 1861. It’s not a flattering likeness, though, goodness knows, what Lincoln was facing would age any person. It is most likely a print copied from one of the many photographic portraits taken of Lincoln by Mathew Brady (1822–1896). In the day with no electronic media, such ribbons also served as campaign propaganda, along with copper tokens bearing a candidate’s likeness, trade cards, and even small effigies of candidates such as puppets and wooden figures. This inauguration image sadly reminds us of the horror the US was about to face in the Civil War.

Ancient Meroë (flourished ca. 700 bce–300 ce), Prince Arikankharer Slaying Enemies, 25–41 ce. Sandstone, 21.4 x 25.4 x 4.9 cm (8 7/16” x 10” x 1 15/16”). © Worcester Art Museum. (WAM-424)

The kingdom of ancient Meroë (southern Nubia, contemporary Sudan) co-existed with ancient Egypt on the southern end of the Nile, and adopted many of their artistic conventions. One such convention, unfortunately, was lauding a ruler as a great military leader in sclupture. Although this prince died young, he is depicted as a zealous defender of his kingdom.

Ancient Rome, Trajan Addressing His Troops, from the Column of Trajan, Rome, ca 112 ce. Marble. © Davis Publications. (8S-4763)

This monument was dedicated to the Roman emperor Trajan (ruled 98–117 ce) and his military campaigns against the “barbarians” along the Danube River (Austria) ca. 102–107 ce. Apparently crushing the native people of Germany, Switzerland, and France was not enough for the Romans. They conquered any culture they thought would be a threat. This column celebrates Trajan’s victory over the Dacians (Austrians) thus (supposedly) lending stability to the Empire. Roman art sought to not only honor ancestors, but also their deeds. Depictions of the deeds of emperors were spread throughout the Empire in the form of public sculpture.

Maya, Cup depicting victorious warriors (members of the Jaguar Guild), ca. 550–950 ce. Painted ceramic, 15.9 x 13.7 x 13.7 cm (6 1/4” x 5 3/8” x 5 3/8”). © Brooklyn Museum. (BMA-1750)

The Maya dominated Central America from Mexico through Guatemala and Honduras. Their culture flourished between 800 bce and roughly 1100 ce. It was unfortunately a society steeped in martial ritual, as many ancient cultures were. The Jaguar Guild was an elite warrior society that is represented here, on a ceremonial cup, as well as in temples and tombs. They wear animal headdresses and the jaguar symbol is belted around their waists.

Auguste Rodin (1840–1917, France), Burghers of Calais, 1884–1886. Bronze,

208 x 140 x 190 cm (81 7/8” x 55 1/8” x 74 13/16”). Victoria Embankment, London. Photo © 2013 Davis Publications. (8S-13475)

What war isn’t stupid? This sculpture commemorates an event during the Hundred Years War (begun by the British in 1337) when the English besieged Calais and asked for the six most prominent citizens as sign of surrender. Rodin’s expressionistic depiction of this grim event in French history was influential on modernism in art of the early 1900s.

Diego Rivera (1886–1957, Mexico), Agrarian Leader Zapata, 1931. Fresco, 238.1 x 188 cm (93 3/4” x 74”). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2013 Diego Rivera / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (MOMA-P0747riars)

Rivera was a leader in the revival of frescoes and wall paintings. He did so in commemoration of the Mexican Revolution (1910). Through his murals, Rivera sought to elevate the Mexican people’s self image as divorced from Spanish conquest. This fresco depicts a famous Mexican revolutionary who was fighting for the rights of poor farmers during the Revolution.

Gino Severini (1883–1956, Italy), Armored Train in Action, 1915. Oil on canvas, 117 x 88 cm (46.1” x 34 5/8”). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2013 Gino Severini / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (MOMA-P2224svars)

Futurism was an offshoot of Cubism. It emphasized movement and the mechanized age. This work paints a pretty picture of an otherwise grisly phenomenon on World War I (1914–1918). It aptly blends the Cubist emphasis of time elapsed action with the brilliant color associated with Post-Impressionism.

An-My Lê (born 1960, Vietnam), 25 Palms: Infantry Platoon, from the book “Small Wars,” 2003–2004. Gelatin silver print, 67.3 x 96.7 cm (26 1/2” x 38”). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2013 An-My Lê. (MOMA-P4235)

Lê was a migrant to the US after the fall of Saigon in 1975. She has since used photography to explore the ironies of war and the cost on human lives. This series of photographs documents the training of US soldiers for the war in Iraq. The desolate landscape enhances the idea that war is a waste.

American Originals

Morgan Russell (1886–1953, United States), Creavit Deus Hominem (So God Created Man) (Synchromy Number 3: Color Counterpoint), 1913. Oil on canvas mounted on cardboard, 30.2 x 26 cm (11 7/8" x 10 1/4"). Photo © The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Art © Estate of Morgan Russell. (MOMA-P1220)

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs how spotty modernism was in American art in the early 1900s. Since the colonial period, American artists had a tenacious obsession with realism, including the work of portrait painters, Hudson River School artists, and Tromp l’oeil artists. However, by the end of the 1800s, there were a number of American artists living and working in Europe, many in Paris. This introduced Impressionism into American art, and by the late 1910s, experiments in modernism, including abstraction.

Although the Armory Show of 1913 is sometimes cited as the impetus for modernist impulses in American art (the show introduced Americans to Cubism and other forms of abstraction), many American painters and sculptors living in Paris were experimenting with abstraction before 1913. These artists were not only aware of experimental movements, but also participated in them. Many of these artists returned to New York and introduced modernism to Americans before the Armory Show. Fauvism, Cubism, and ultimately Dada/Surrealism and Futurism all had an impact on early American modernists.

In my mind, the most interesting of these early American modernist movements by far was the style called Synchromism by its founders: Morgan Russell and Stanton MacDonald-Wright (1890–1973). This movement, which evolved in the years before World War I (1914–1918), in its most literal translation means “with color.” It was informed by the light of Impressionism, the color of the Post-Impressionists such as Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890, Netherlands), and the scientific color theories of artists like Georges Seurat (1859–1891, France). Although the works of MacDonald-Wright and Russell may resemble works of Robert Delaunay’s (1885–1941, France) Orphism—a style that infused Cubism with brilliant color—Synchromism divorced color from physical objects to create pure abstraction.

Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Synchromy No. 3, 1917. Oil on canvas, 99 x 97 cm. Brooklyn Museum of Art. © Estate of Stanton MacDonald-Wright. (BMA-369)

Russell initially studied sculpture, but under the influence of the Fauves he took up painting exclusively in 1911. MacDonald-Wright was heavily influenced by the late near-abstraction of Paul Cézanne (1839–1906, France). This work by Russell clearly shows the debt the Synchromist artists owed to Cubism. However, Russell has reasserted in his work the important connection between line and color to define forms. The two artists held an exhibit of their new style in 1913 in Munich, and then in 1914 in New York. By 1920 both artists had taken their color theories in different directions, including objective subject matter executed in the brilliant Synchromist palette.

Studio activity:  Russell, like Vasily Kandinsky (1866–1944, Russia), was very interested in the connection between music and abstract painting. Using pastels or colored chalks, create a work of abstract shapes in vibrant colors that symbolize the sounds heard in a piece of music. Remember that warm colors (such as red, orange, and yellow) tend to advance while cool colors (such as blue, green, and purple) tend to recede visually. This can help create a tension or movement in the music-inspired composition.

Correlations to Davis programs:  Explorations in Art Grade 4: 6.35; Explorations in Art Grade 6: 5.25; Exploring Visual Design: 2, 4, 12; Discovering Art History: 15.2; The Visual Experience: 5.3

Color

I’m a sucker for color in any artist’s work, any medium. I am always intrigued by artists who seem to go through phases (much like Picasso), because, as a painter, I don’t see it in my own work. Someone recently (yesterday) pointed out to me my gradual disinterest in buildings in my landscapes and the emphasis on pure landscape—devoid of buildings or human beings. I had to think at what point I did that, and could not pinpoint it. However, I would imagine it is the same for other artists. This work by Léopold Survage intrigues me because he went through an intense period of interest in Cubism, and then gradually returned to representational art. What’s interesting about his courtship with Cubism is how it summed up many of the avant-garde tendencies of the second decade of the 20^th century.

Survage (also known as Léopold Sturzwage, Leopold Stürzwage, Leopoldij Sturzwasgh, or Leopoldij Lvovich Sturzwage) was a Russian artist born of a Finnish father and Danish mother. Although he initially studied piano (taking a diploma in 1897), he decided to become an visual artist, studying in Moscow starting in 1906. He was associated with the circle of avant-garde artists that included Aleksandr Archipenko (1887–1964), Mikhail Larionov (1881–1964), and Natalija Goncharova (1881–1962). He moved to Paris in 1908, quickly becoming a member of the group of avant-garde artists there, associating with Amedeo Modigliani (1884–1920) in particular (who painted Survage’s portrait). Although Archipenko considered Survage a Constructivist, Survage held himself to be a Cubist. He exhibited with the Cubists in 1911 and 1912.

From 1912 to 1913, Survage sought to unite his musical background with abstract cubist compositions that he called Colored Rhythm. In this he was similar to another Russian émigré Vasily Kandinsky, who also thought that painting could express musical ideas. Survage’s intention was to turn the cubist experience into film, using highly structured pictures linked by repetition of a group of symbolic elements that evoke a sensation as an analogy to music. If he had succeeded in getting the project going, he would have been the first abstract animation film artist.

After 1922, having failed to produce a Colored Rhythm film, his subsequent commissions were to produce theater and ballet scenery. These works, I think, helped moved him away from Cubism. From 1925 to 1932 he lived in the southern French city of Collioure, a mecca for painters. He developed an appreciation for the life and labors of the local people, which populate his paintings of the period and after. Another French artist who turned away from an avant-garde (Fauvism) style back towards realism after moving to Collioure was André Derain (1880–1954).

Works by Survage after 1922:

Femme et Les Poisons blue, 1924

Three Beauties, 1931

Portrait de Nonnes, 1929

La Femme a la Fenetre

 

Activity: Decorate a grid with colors that create visual movement. Draw a grid on an 11 x 8 ½” piece of paper with pencil. Using the primary colors red, blue, and yellow, color the grid in so that the colors vibrate against each other visually and create the perception of movement or rhythm.

Correlations to Davis programs: Explorations in Art Grade 5: 3.15, 6.25; A Community Connection: 6.5; Exploring Visual Design: 4, 7, 12; The Visual Experience: 16.6; Discovering Art History: 14.2