106 15 4189 https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/26b9f81fc1dfd92400749880344e6ad0.pdf 2687f28ba2e585f83eee80ae6f9c0404 PDF Text Text ���� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1983 January 9 Pennsylvania Prints: A Tercentenary Celebration from the Collection of John C. O'Conner and Ralph M. Yeager Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource G. Grunewald Jasper F. Cropsey John Moray W.W. Denslow N. Garrison Fanny F.Palmer Thoma sBirch James Queen T.M. Fowler John H. Sherwin George Lehman William Reeder E. Schellhorn C.L. Fussell J.B. Bachelor E. Whitefield G.A.Rudd James Benade H.H. Baily Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1983 January 9 - February 6 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/89fa48679c4c129cac2bc55a38a5fd41.pdf 377684b7332ab1ca579bb57803a6305e PDF Text Text * i I ; -j t X' ■ ! ;£; ■ -X;: KlEIMrEE ; : s; LS i ; fo I; : b - -! : K : ‘ S?" /1/tlERIIC/IIM .4WSTERS OF THE E/IRLfTHIRTIES ij r: 1 i i i= i I I I I i i . 1 j SORD GA N6512 S653A12 1983 1 �'■TO REI/IIMTEID- /l/HERIIC/IM /MASTERS OF THE IIRIY THIRTIES SORIDGNII /BRT G/ILDlE W Wilkes College Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania /MRCIHIW -/OPMUlM., E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA Exhibition organized by William Sterling and Judith O'Toole in conjunction with the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Founding of Wilkes College Funded by grants from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, the John Sloan Memorial Foundation, and the Andrew J. Sordoni Foundation. 1 �ARfHlVlS TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction .................................... 3 Acknowledgments.......................... 4 Lenders to the Exhibition............... 5 American Art in the Early Thirties 6 Comments on the Exhibition......... 12 List of Works.................................... 17 This exhibition, in celebration of the the founding of Wilkes College, is dire: of the American artistic environment < such a project lies in its potential of allc the moment, some of the stereotypes tions which have accrued to the perioc back into the past and see what mighi valued, in 1933. There was, of course, a great deal go: of the early Thirties, and any attempt tc would require an exhibition of enor neither the resources nor the space for ness, we must necessarily exercise selectivity in choosing w’orks by some several hundred who were truly emir guiding principle in forming the exhibi ticity to the period itself, as documer sources, such as art periodicals and Thus, some well-known artists, whon more relevant to the present day, have 2 �INTRODUCTION . 3 . 4 . 5 6 12 17 This exhibition, in celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of Wilkes College, is directed to the re-creation of the American artistic environment of 1933. The value of such a project lies in its potential of allowing us to ignore, for the moment, some of the stereotypes and, perhaps, distor­ tions which have accrued to the period. It allows us to step back into the past and see what might have been seen, and valued, in 1933. to make room for less well-known, but more characteristic, representatives of the period in question. The reputations of all the artists included in the exhibition were, however, wellestablished (or on the verge thereof) in the early Thirties. Artists like Sloan and Marin were already virtual "old masters." Others, like Gorky and Tomlin, were young "upand-comers." Here, we see them all as contemporaries, re­ sponding to the varied but distinct influences of a particular moment in history. There was, of course, a great deal going on in the art world of the early Thirties, and any attempt to represent it faithfully would require an exhibition of enormous scope. Having neither the resources nor the space for such comprehensive­ ness, we must necessarily exercise our own historical selectivity in choosing works by some forty artists out of the several hundred wTho were truly eminent in that era. Our guiding principle in forming the exhibition has been authen­ ticity to the period itself, as documented by contemporary sources, such as art periodicals and exhibition catalogues. Thus, some well-known artists, whom one might regard as more relevant to the present day, have been omitted in order For the purposes of continuity, we have concentrated on painting as a medium reflecting the gamut of artistic per­ suasions in the early Thirties. Prints or drawings have been used where appropriate paintings could not be obtained. The few sculptures have been included to suggest the dominant tastes in three-dimensional art in this period. The works range in date from 1927 to 1933. The only large group of artists not represented here is the traditional "academy," whose work changed little from generation to generation and remained largely immune to the intellectual and social issues of the period. si-i7^7:e 3 �acknowledgements recreate a single school or style but to recreate the character of a very specific moment in time. We have included artists of different and sometimes opposing styles. We have caught some artists at the outset of their careers and others at their penultimate moment. We have tried to evoke the temper of the art scene centered in New York during the depths of the Great Depression and on the brink of the WPA projects. 1933 Revisited: American Masters of the Early Thirties is an exhibition conceived and initiated one year ago by my predecessor, Dr. William Sterling. The theme was chosen in part as a celebration of the founding, fifty years ago, of Bucknell Junior College which was to become in 1947 Wilkes College. The exhibition serves also as a continuation of a series of exhibitions organized by the Sordoni Art Gallery to recognize, investigate, and celebrate the beginnings of mod­ ern art in the United States during the early decades of the twentieth century. Many people have contributed their efforts to make this ex­ hibition a success. I would like to acknowledge Dr. Sterling for initiating the exhibition and providing the catalogue essay. Mrs. Helen Farr Sloan lent invaluable assistance by supplying primary research sources and suggesting possible loans. Miss Antoinette Kraushaar of Kraushaar Galleries and her assistant Carol Pesner generously availed their files for our research. I am indebted to all the institutions and private collectors who have made works available for loan. Finally, I would like to acknowledge the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, the John Sloan Memorial Foundation, and the Andrew J. Sordoni Foundation through whose generosity this exhibi­ tion was made possible. Dr. Sterling and I discovered as plans progressed for this exhibition, that it is unusual to have a single year as a central theme to an exhibition. The record-keeping systems in museums and galleries are organized in a manner to accom­ modate searches by artist, school, or movement. Artists, too, are notoriously casual about dating works and rarely keep chronological records. However, the validity and importance of an exhibition organized in this manner is clear. Our point has not been to Judith H. O'Toole Director Sordoni Art Gallery 4 Addison Gallery of Americt The Art Museum, Princetor Brooks Memorial Art Galle Butler Institute of American March Avery Cavanaugh Delaware Art Museum Kennedy Galleries, Inc. Kraushaar Galleries The Metropolitan Museum Munson-Williams-Proctor I Museum of Art, Pennsylvai �[ENTS lenders to the exhibition ite a single school or style but to recreate the character ery specific moment in time. We have included artists of mt and sometimes opposing styles. We have caught artists at the outset of their careers and others at their timate moment. We have tried to evoke the temper of ■t scene centered in New’ York during the depths of the Depression and on the brink of the WPA projects. ny people have contributed their efforts to make this ex>n a success. I would like to acknowledge Dr. Sterling litiating the exhibition and providing the catalogue Mrs. Helen Farr Sloan lent invaluable assistance by Hng primary research sources and suggesting possible Miss Antoinette Kraushaar of Kraushaar Galleries and sistant Carol Pesner generously availed their files for search. I am indebted to all the institutions and private ors who have made works available for Ioan. Finally, I like to acknowledge the Pennsylvania Council on the :he John Sloan Memorial Foundation, and the Andrew ioni Foundation through whose generosity this exhibias made possible. Addison Gallen’ of American Art, Phillips Academy National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution The Art Museum, Princeton University The Newark Museum Brooks Memorial Art Gallery New Britain Museum of American Art Butler Institute of American Art Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts March Aven’ Cavanaugh The Phillips Collection Delaware Art Museum Robert Schoelkopf Gallery Kennedy Galleries, Inc. Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery, University of Nebraska-Lincoln Kraushaar Galleries The Metropolitan Museum of Art Vassar College Art Gallery Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute The Whitney Museum of American Art Museum of Art, Pennsylvania State University Zabriskie Gallery Judith H. O'Toole Director Sordoni Art Gallery 5 J �seemed to turn back to earlier, more familiar modes of expres­ sion after the war. As an example of this shift, one can cite the widespread revival of Neoclassicism (albeit in a streamlined version). In America, such artists as Max Weber (no. 39) and Marsden Hartley, who had been among our first true abstract painters, reverted to more representational styles.1 AMERICAN ART IN THE EARLY THIRTIES 1933 would seem to offer students of American art little to become aroused over. It saw no epic event like the great Armory Show of 1913, which first placed European modern­ ism squarely before the American public. Nor did it proffer any exhibition so radically controversial as that of The Eight" in 1908. Even when events of this magnitude cannot be singled out every year, the eras of the early Twenties or the late Forties, to cite two examples, were rich with far-reaching incidents in the world of art. It is difficult, however, to frame the early Thirties in the context of revolutionary innovation or climactic achievement. These apparent reversions were not necessarily repudia­ tions of these artists' former radicalism. They resulted from many factors influencing the arts and society during the inter­ war period. Among these may be listed a certain intellectual fatigue which probably overcame some modernists after the hectic opening decades of the century. For many, the constant push to expand the frontiers of artistic expression had either exceeded their resources or caused them momentarily to lose their sense of direction. It is also not unusual that, as the im­ petus of one trend begins to slow, the dialectic of culture replaces it with its opposite. At the same time, important changes of concern exerted great influence on the styles and aspirations of this era. That which was so compellingly ur­ gent in 1913 or in 1923 no longer held the stage in 1933. After the fervid pace of the first three decades of the twen­ tieth century, the Thirties opened less frenetically. It was a time for reflection, the refixing of one's bearings, and, in some cases, retrenchment. This situation was compounded by the Great Depression which had cast shadows across the most op­ timistic paths. While many artists, in their perpetual state of pecuniary doubt, were hardly affected by that event which drove some more affluent citizens to drastic acts, the art world was, nonetheless, subject to a marked decline in pat­ ronage. At the same time, any suggestions of self-absorption in one's art may have seemed frivolous when millions were out of work. During times of hardship, people tend to fall back on those traditions in their culture which express per­ manence and security. The drive for adventure and experi­ ment must wait for less-troubled times. !■ L 1'1 "Modernism is played out." (Royal Cortissoz, conservative critic) "The Academy is dead." (Warren Cheney, progressive critic)2 A perusal of the art journals of the early Thirties reveals several prominent issues of the day. Although the battle be­ tween the modernists and the traditionalists had gone on publicly since the emergence of "The Eight" early in the cen­ tury, it seemed to reach a stalemate in the Thirties. Debate on this issue remained popular but repetitious. The basic arguments had been made and the lines clearly drawn well before 1933. The mobile assaults of the Teens and Twenties, when modernism made strong advances in American culture, were replaced by trench warfare. It would require new strategies to enable one side or the other to mount a successful offensive once more. This, in fact, happened with the found- The marking of time, which characterized the art of the ear­ ly Thirties, occurred in Europe as well as in America. The heyday of Cubism, Fauvism, Futurism, and many other rev­ olutionary movements was over, though certainly not forgot­ ten. After the early Twenties, only one significant new art movement emerged prior to World War II, and that was Sur­ realism. Artists who had radically altered the course of art through their innovations in style before World War I_ artists such as Picasso, Matisse, and Kirchner — frequently 6 17. EDWARD HOPPER Farmhouse at Essex, Mass. Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc. N �jm back to earlier, more familiar modes of expresie war. As an example of this shift, one can cite the revival of Neoclassicism (albeit in a streamlined America, such artists as Max Weber (no. 39) and irtley, who had been among our first true abstract verted to more representational styles.1 parent reversions were not necessarily repudiase artists' former radicalism. They resulted from ■s influencing the arts and society during the interAmong these may be listed a certain intellectual h probably overcame some modernists after the ng decades of the century. For many, the constant and the frontiers of artistic expression had either eir resources or caused them momentarily to lose >f direction. It is also not unusual that, as the ime trend begins to slow, the dialectic of culture with its opposite. At the same time, important :oncem exerted great influence on the styles and rf this era. That which was so compellingly or in 1923 no longer held the stage in 1933. lemism is played out." (Royal Cortissoz, conservative critic) Academy is dead." (Warren Cheney, progressive critic)2 of the art journals of the early Thirties reveals linent issues of the day. Although the battle bewdernists and the traditionalists had gone on e the emergence of "The Eight" early in the cened to reach a stalemate in the Thirties. Debate on emained popular but repetitious. The basic ad been made and the lines clearly drawn well The mobile assaults of the Teens and Twenties, lism made strong advances in American culture, ■d by trench warfare. It would require new mable one side or the other to mount a successful :e more. This, in fact, happened with the found- 17. EDWARD HOPPER Farmhouse at Essex, Mass., 1929 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc. NY, NY 7 �i went on to warn against the dangers of abstraction to the bloodshot eye. This facetious anti-modernist tract actually tells us more about the effects of the Depression than those of Prohibition, for it was the former which had seriously jeopardized the livelihood of many artists. We must delve beyond the economics of the situation, however, and ask how the styles and themes of American art were influenced by that most repercussive event of the interwar era. ing of the American Abstract Artists group in 1936, and the early signals of the Abstract Expressionist movement in the works of Jackson Pollock, Arshile Gorky, and Franz Kline. In 1933, however, every sign suggested that modernism had gone about as far as it would go. Major and seminal abstract artists such as Stuart Davis and Arthur Dove were still working in that vein with considerable success, but their legions were hardly growing. Many other modernists, like the aforementioned Max Weber, had apparently made peace with the conservatives, even if they had not joined them outright. It was not just a matter of numbers either. The critic Ralph Flint, reviewing the large American show at the Museum of Modem Art in 1932, saw no one who could stand beside the greatest European modernists, except perhaps John Marin.3 Young American artists still headed for Paris by the boatload, but once there they were likely to favor Derain's quasi-cubism over Picasso's more radical variety, or Dufy's mild Fauvism over Matisse's. Critics viewing the 1933 Carnegie Interna­ tional noted the compromise between radical and conser­ vative schools, with a more noticeable tilt toward the latter than had occurred for a number of years.4 Indeed, this very compromisiveness suggests a lack of real force on either side. As Margaret Breuning noted in her review of the Carnegie show, there was a "languor, a sad perfunctory note through­ out the galleries . . . (an) aesthetic fatigue."’ As if to confirm this standoff in quite literal terms, two autonomous juries were chosen to select the 1933 Chicago Annual. One jury represented the conservatives, the other the progressives.0 Unquestionably, the Depression had created a climate of anxiety throughout society, and artists may have responded by staying with, or returning to, the tried and true. Reviewers of the 1931 American Annual at the St. Louis Museum ob­ served a retreat from the more radical forms of modernism and suggested that the Depression was the cause. They noted a return to an emphasis on craftsmanship which seemed very much tied to the "law of survival."8 It would be a mistake, however, to assume that this condition was universal. At the Minneapolis Annual of the same year, a strong modernist trend was noted, and the American Art Dealers Association found that the art market (as of 1931) had remained fairly stable despite the Depression.’ While the precise impact of the Depression upon America." art requires further investigation, it is clear that an increasim number of artists turned to themes extolling the virtues ot honest labor and the abundancies of the American landscape as well as themes which captured the loneliness or poverty of the less fortunate. Although most of these themes had pre­ dated the Depression, they became far more common in the Thirties. "Picasso's full-face profiles often give one the sensation of seeing double. Their place is not in the barroom."7 Overt political statements in the art of this period were less numerous than we might expect. Few American artists had anything to say about such events as the rise of Stalin in Russia or Hitler in Germany. The most politically controver­ sial works of art in 1933 were probably the two murals ex­ ecuted by the Mexican painter Diego Rivera for the Ford Motor Company in Detroit and Rockefeller Center in Ne* York City. His sympathetic references to Russian Corr.- Issues outside the realm of art clearly had an effect on the lives and attitudes of artists, but just how and to what extent these issues were translated into art often lack such clear definition. When Prohibition was repealed in 1933, the writer of the lines quoted above foresaw more work for artists, in the form of new paintings for all the resurrected bars. He then 8 munism caused an uproar among ernirs be sure, there always flourished a '.<<dr< one stripe or another, in the Ttvr’ies Gropper, Ben Shahn. and Thomas Hart with sharp political content, but no political expression took place except nalistic art. The relatively high social Roosevelt era (which began in 1933' < found its main outlet in the more sub American Scene painters A new nation begun to offset the economic negativ Depression. "No American art can come to not live an American life, who c American psychology and who America justification for their lb < Thom as After the tempering ot modernist fen a growing sense of nationalism, many < spiration in the sweeping expanses am their native land. Like their contemp literature, they engaged in a vast se American expression. Although preced tations of a similar spirit, such as the and the Ash-Can style, the American S< Thirties (sometimes called Regionalism as a programmatic effort to fashion an art of substance and uniqueness From t tains, from small towns to cities, artist; Hart Benton, Grant Wood, Isabel Bisl and countless others joined in this effor impact during the 1931-32 exhibition s was in full swing by 1933. Highminded nationalism notwithsta Scene movement also reflected econon into our century, the Amer.can art cc most of his shopping in Europe It did �zarn against the dangers of abstraction to the ». This facetious anti-modernist tract actually ibout the effects of the Depression than those of □r it was the former which had seriously jeoparihood of many artists. We must delve beyond ; of the situation, however, and ask how the mes of American art were influenced by that sive event of the interwar era. munism caused an uproar among critics and public alike.10 To be sure, there always flourished a cadre of artist-activists of one stripe or another. In the Thirties, men such as William Gropper, Ben Shahn, and Thomas Hart Benton created works with sharp political content, but no real groundswell of political expression took place, except in the realm of jour­ nalistic art. The relatively high social consciousness of the Roosevelt era (which began in 1933) seems rather to have found its main outlet in the more sublimated work of the American Scene painters. A new nationalistic positivism had begun to offset the economic negativism spawned by the Depression. ibly, the Depression had created a climate of ;hout society, and artists may have responded fi, or returning to, the tried and true. Reviewers merican Annual at the St. Louis Museum ob­ it from the more radical forms of modernism, that the Depression was the cause. They noted emphasis on craftsmanship which seemed very he "law of survival."8 It would be a mistake, sume that this condition was universal. At the mnual of the same year, a strong modernist d, and the American Art Dealers Association art market (as of 1931) had remained fairly he Depression.’ ;cise impact of the Depression upon American ther investigation, it is clear that an increasing sts turned to themes extolling the virtues of d the abundancies of the American landscape, es which captured the loneliness or poverty of ite. Although most of these themes had preession, they became far more common in the were traditional or modern; Europe still represented for most Americans haute culture as well as haute couture. Only the less affluent had to resort to the collecting of "provincial" home-grown work. And even these collectors often sought the opportunity to buy third-rate European pictures rather than first-rate American ones. The cachet of a "Made in Paris" label remained irresistible to uninformed American en­ trepreneurs. This state of affairs gave rise to an energetic cam­ paign by American artists and their dealers to promote their own interests. The National Commission to Advance Amer­ ican Art was established in 1933 in order to combat the in­ flated reputation and highpowered merchandising of Euro­ pean "masters." Similarly, the American Artists Professional League sought to terminate "a vicious system of which our artists . . . have been victims." Albert Reid, speaking for the League, referred to the "methods of dumping upon this coun­ try, in unbelievable quantities, worthless and questionable foreign art. Hoards of foreign artists, who were hard put to make any kind of living at home, discovered that our country was rich pickings."12 The League's slogan, "Buy American Pictures First," was, therefore, more protectionist than chau­ vinistic. How ironic that fifty years later, American art is eagerly sought the world over, while those pillars of America's pre-war economy, steel and automobiles, now make the same plea for protectionism. "No American art can come to those who do not live an American life, who do not have an American psychology, and who cannot find in America justification for their lives. (Thomas Hart Benton)11 ! I il statements in the art of this period were less we might expect. Few American artists had r about such events as the rise of Stalin in in Germany. The most politically controver‘t in 1933 were probably the two murals ex­ Mexican painter Diego Rivera for the Ford y in Detroit and Rockefeller Center in New > sympathetic references to Russian Com- After the tempering of modernist fervor and spurred on by a growing sense of nationalism, many artists sought fresh in­ spiration in the sweeping expanses and intimate corners of their native land. Like their contemporaries in music and literature, they engaged in a vast search for a distinctly American expression. Although preceded by earlier manifes­ tations of a similar spirit, such as the Hudson River School and the Ash-Can style, the American Scene movement of the Thirties (sometimes called Regionalism) was more self-aware as a programmatic effort to fashion an indigenous American art of substance and uniqueness. From the plains to the moun­ tains, from small towns to cities, artists as varied as Thomas Hart Benton, Grant Wood, Isabel Bishop, Charles Sheeler, and countless others joined in this effort. After its first major impact during the 1931-32 exhibition season, the movement was in full swing by 1933. An important impetus for the cultivation of American art and for an American art public emerged in 1931 with the founding of the Whitney Museum in New York City, which devoted itself exclusively to the collection and exhibition of American art. An equally significant, though temporary, in­ stitution was the Federal Art Project, a governmentsponsored program of the WPA which was authorized late in 1933 and commenced operation in 1934. Before it came to a close nine years later, the program provided commissions and stipends for more than five thousand artists. Most of the art­ ists in this exhibition benefited to one degree or another from its support. The exhibition itself represents a cross-section of styles and themes which prevailed at the commencement of this largest single exercise in artistic patronage in history. Highminded nationalism notwithstanding, the American Scene movement also reflected economic isolationism. Well into our century, the American art consumer tended to do most of his shopping in Europe. It didn't matter if his tastes I 9 �The Federal Art Project sustained and nurtured future leaders of modern American art, but the works produced for the program related to th Scene movement and reflected that movement's c subject matter rather than style as a means of id indigenous American expression. One of the in American Scene movement was its basic stylist! tism while constituting the dominant artistic persi politically liberal Federal Art Project. Although artists involved fostered deep concerns for the lems of the day, many others danced to the tune o nationalism. A splinter group of Social Realist; strong leftist sympathies, emerged from the Ami movement between 1933 and 1935. In their eye painters had become isolationists and even fasci; "The wave of deplorable nationalism (whic are witnessing) uses pseudoaesthetic argun to arouse the lay mind against abstractor other individualism in art because the stands in the way of political and racial economic mass-passions. " (Morris Davidson, at the Wh Symposium of 1 IL r Ultimately, it was the revival of aggressive me cerns, integrated and inflected in a peculiarly Arr which led to the future preeminence of American this revival had not yet occurred. Nevertheless, < tant groundwork was being laid. The Museum of was founded in 1929 and opened its new building Carnegie International exhibitions in Pittsburgh c give exposure to important modernists. Pica; honorary first prize in 1931 (though not with one radical pieces). Segonzac took top honors in 19 more conservative John Steuart Curry and Her Poor in second and third places. Chicago's Cent ress Exposition in 1933 concentrated on the Art L Modeme styles in the design arts, which certain focus public attention on the modernist aesthetic r. * 26. GEORGE BENJAMIN LUKS Red Bam, Berkshire Hills, c. 1930 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University 10 �The Federal Art Project sustained and nurtured many of the future leaders of modern American art, but the majority of works produced for the program related to the American Scene movement and reflected that movement's emphasis on subject matter rather than style as a means of identifying an indigenous American expression. One of the ironies of the American Scene movement was its basic stylistic conserva­ tism while constituting the dominant artistic persuasion of the politically liberal Federal Art Project. Although many of the artists involved fostered deep concerns for the social prob­ lems of the day, many others danced to the tune of right-wing nationalism. A splinter group of Social Realists, harboring strong leftist sympathies, emerged from the American Scene movement between 1933 and 1935. In their eyes, the Scene painters had become isolationists and even fascists.13 in the following year, one of the fountainheads of that aesthetic, the German Bauhaus, was shut down by the Nazi regime as a degenerate institution. If the present exhibition is approximately reflective of the relative significance of the various styles and fashions in American art in the early Thirties, then it will be apparent that modernism in its radical forms held a minority position. It is clear that many of the traditionalists had faintheartedly adopted certain modernist elements (such as Miller's tendency to streamline his neo-Renaissance figures, no. 28, or Jones' simplification of tones and masses, no. 18); but at the same time, many of the modernists had turned back uneasily toward traditionalism (as in Weber's and Burchfield's land­ scapes, nos. 39 and 7). Even fully modernist statements, such as Davis' and Marin's, had been formulated ten to twenty years earlier. Modernism was by no means dying; it was momentarily stalled. In a sense, the early Thirties lacked an identifiable avant-garde. As mentioned earlier, the only ma­ jor new style of this era was Surrealism, and that was poorly received in its first American appearance in 1931. "The wave of deplorable nationalism (which we are witnessing) uses pseudoaesthetic arguments to arouse the lay mind against abstraction and other individualism in art because the latter stands in the way of political and racial and economic mass-passions." (Morris Davidson, at the Whitney Symposium of 1933)14 It is tempting to see a parallel between 1933 and 1983 in this regard. Much has been written recently about the "return to the figure" and the "return to realism" in contemporary art. A closer scrutiny of the situation suggests that these pronounce­ ments are simplistic, at best. It is undeniable, though, that a greater quantity of representational art of various sorts is cur­ rently being shown in galleries normally reserved for the modernist avant-garde. Some critics see in these new representationalisms a self-conscious quoting of earlier styles, which depends more on fashion than on conviction.15 Ultimately, it was the revival of aggressive modernist con­ cerns, integrated and inflected in a peculiarly American way, which led to the future preeminence of American art. In 1933, this revival had not yet occurred. Nevertheless, some impor­ tant groundwork was being laid. The Museum of Modern Art was founded in 1929 and opened its new building in 1932. The Carnegie International exhibitions in Pittsburgh continued to give exposure to important modernists. Picasso received honorary first prize in 1931 (though not with one of his more radical pieces). Segonzac took top honors in 1933, with the more conservative John Steuart Curry and Henry Varnum Poor in second and third places. Chicago's Century of Prog­ ress Exposition in 1933 concentrated on the Art Deco and Art Modeme styles in the design arts, which certainly helped to focus public attention on the modernist aesthetic. Ironically, Similarly, no single movement, like Minimalism in the Sev­ enties or Abstract Expressionism in the Fifties, appears to dominate the contemporary scene. 1983 and 1933 share, to some extent, a cultural pluralism, where diverse styles and critical positions jostle with each other in a state, more or less, of equivalence (although this is more evident in the Eighties than in the Thirties). Those conditions of fatigue, reaction. 11 �broad Cubist and Fauve traditions which had remained vital since their preeminence prior to World War I, as did their founders, Picasso and Matisse. These traditions had fostered, among other things, the simplification of form by means of geometry and bold color. This tendency to simplify was, in­ deed, pervasive in the Thirties, affecting progressives and conservatives alike. and cultural vertigo cited as factors in the Thirties' situation may also be operative in the Eighties. But where the contem­ porary art world seems to be driven by a mechanism of anxie­ ty and one-upmanship in the constant pressure for change (a mechanism well-oiled by dealers, critics, and art schools), the varied postures of the Thirties were based on a somewhat relativistic respect for the orthodoxies they represented. Taken as a whole, a certain placidity, indeed a "languor," as Ms. Breuning suggested at the time, seems to emanate from the art of that period. There are charm and interest and flashes of brilliance to be found there, but little hint of what was to come in the following decade. Stuart Davis, one of the early proponents of modernism in America, had developed an energetic, planar style derived from Cubism. (The Braque-like Still-Life, No. 11, in this ex­ hibition varies somewhat from his more familiar work, and probably reveals the renewed contact he made with Cubist sources during his visit to Paris in 1928.) John Marin, a vir­ tual "old master" among the avant-garde, also continued to mine the rich vein he had struck two decades earlier, with its mingling of Cubism, Fauvism, and Futurism (No. 27). COMMENTS ON THE EXHIBITION The works comprising this exhibition have been chosen to reflect as faithfully as possible those styles and themes in American art which prevailed fifty years ago. Broadly con­ sidered, that era, like many others, supported progressive, moderate, and conservative tendencies. European modern­ ism, which had begun to alter the direction of art in America by the early Twenties, continued to cast its rays, although its force had diminished. Indeed, many of the artists who were conspicuously avant-garde in the Thirties belonged to the first generation of modernism — people such as Stuart Davis, Ar­ thur Dove, and John Marin. Younger artists, including Isabel Bishop, Aaron Bohrod, Joe Jones, and Bradley Walker Tom­ lin, showed little inclination to adopt the radical styles of their predecessors (although Tomlin, for one, joined the avant-garde later in his career). Davis and Marin were hardly trendsetters in the Thirties, however. Their styles remained bold, but personal and self­ generating. Perhaps their greatest influence at that time lay in providing an anchor for modernism in the midst of a wide current of indifference. The youthful Gorky, for example, cherished his contacts with Davis. Among the few artists who actually developed more radical styles in the early Thirties Arthur Carles and Karl Knaths had moved from the orbit of Post-impressionism into that of Cubism. Carles (No. 8; blended into his Cubist space some of the explosive color and movement of Fauvism and Futurism, while Knaths (No. 20 developed a more linear Picassoesque manner. European Cubism, itself, helped to produce two important new movements just after World War I — French Purism Heby the architect Le Corbusier and the painter Leger). ana Dutch De Stijl (under the aegis of Mondrian). An American equivalent to these relatively austere styles emerged almost simultaneously, under the name of Precisionism. All three movements shared a predilection for streamlined surfaces a love of modern machinery, and the belief that technologj Only Arshile Gorky, among the younger artists in this ex­ hibition, was aggressively experimenting with the various possibilities of modernism. His Landscape (No. 15), with its combination of free drawing and sketchy brushwork ap­ proaching full abstraction, already suggests the mature abstract style which he evolved more than a decade later. Of the established modernists, most were committed to the 12 would lead to a better world. The Precision! resented here by Louis Lozowick (No. 25?, a R\ grant; Charles Sheeler (No. 31), and John Stor These men had created pristine, semi-abstract : Twenties, which evolved into somewhat more ref al modes by the next decade. The geometric sit and streamlined surfaces of their earlier works re stant, however. The application of this style to the arts of desig an admixture of Neoclassicism, gave rise to the fashion which soon influenced the design of evei refrigerators to movie houses. Many less avantwere also affected by this aesthetic, particular Kent and, among those in this show, Guy Pe Kent's heroic figures and spare landscapes asse streamlined Neoclassicism, while Du Bois' softe plified forms resembled somewhat phlegmatic Oskar Schlemmer's Bauhaus figures (No. 13;. Neoclassicism had become a widespread infl Twenties, touching even Picasso. A related alt the Neo-Renaissance style, with its less seven idealizing and streamlining the figure. Kenneth F leader of the 14th Street group of artists, and hit bel Bishop were particularly partial to the art of Italy, as can be seen in Miller's Raphaelesque s 28) and Bishop's Perugino-like Union Square ‘ somewhat more descriptive classicism neverthei to look up-to-date in their works. Miller's surface in pastel harmonies and undisturbed by the g scuros, mitigates the illusion of depth. Bishop dense frieze of figures and its corresponding frit geometry across the broad picture plane witf spatial interruptions. This subtle form of abstrac their work, however peripherally, into agreeme radical styles. Indeed, it can be said of most of this exhibition that they tended to flatten space a tion to surface. �1 Fauve traditions which had remained vital linence prior to World War I,, as did their ....................... , and Matisse. These traditions had fostered, igs, the simplification of form by means of Id color. This tendency to simplify was, in­ in the Thirties, affecting progressives and ne of the early proponents of modernism in /eloped an energetic, planar style derived le Braque-like Still-Life, No. 11, in this exnewhat from his more familiar work, and the renewed contact he made with Cubist visit to Paris in 1928.) John Marin, a viramong the avant-garde, also continued to he had struck two decades earlier, with its n, Fauvism, and Futurism (No. 27). i were hardly trendsetters in the Thirties, des remained bold, but personal and selfs their greatest influence at that time lay in □r for modernism in the midst of a wide mce. The youthful Gorky, for example, ;ts with Davis. Among the few artists who more radical styles in the early Thirties, Karl Knaths had moved from the orbit of into that of Cubism. Carles (No. 8) bist space some of the explosive color and sm and Futurism, while Knaths (No. 20) near Picassoesque manner. , itself, helped to produce two important after World War I — French Purism (led Corbusier and the painter Leger), and er the aegis of Mondrian). An American relatively austere styles emerged almost ler the name of Precisionism. All three predilection for streamlined surfaces, a chinery, and the belief that technology ;' would Precisionists are repwuu'u lead to a better world. vvullu'1 The lne ^ecisionists resented here by Louis Lozowick (No. 25), a Russian immi­ grant; Charles Sheeler (No. 31), and John Storrs (No. 35). These men had created pristine, semi-abstract styles in the Twenties, which evolved into somewhat more representation­ al modes by the next decade. The geometric simplifications and streamlined surfaces of their earlier works remained con­ stant, however. Geometric simplification of form became a favored device among other moderates and conservatives as well. Tomlin (No. 37), Jones (No. 18), Leon Kroll (No. 21), Maurice Sterne (No. 34), Robert Brackman (No. 6), Henry Poor (No. 30), and William Zorach (No. 41) all used it to achieve a greater sense of volume and monumentality in their forms. Clarence Carter's and Edward Hopper's spare naturalism (Nos. 9 and 17), on the other hand, was more planar than volumetric, and ran closer to the austerities of Precisionism. Milton Avery's equally spare, but more abstract manner paralleled the art of Matisse (No. 1). Marguerite Zorach's almost naif style, rooted in Cubism, continued to explore the possibilities of full-surface patterning while reintegrating limited impressions of depth and mass (No. 40). John Sloan, operating from a more traditional position, also sought an interplay of volume and surface, through the parallel red modeling lines which he imposed upon his figures at this time (No. 32). The application of this style to the arts of design, often with an admixture of Neoclassicism, gave rise to the art modems fashion which soon influenced the design of everything from refrigerators to movie houses. Many less avant-garde artists were also affected by this aesthetic, particularly Rockwell Kent and, among those in this show. Guy Pene Du Bois. Kent's heroic figures and spare landscapes asserted a hard, streamlined Neoclassicism, while Du Bois' softer,, more simplified forms resembled somewhat phlegmatic versions of Oskar Schlemmer's Bauhaus figures (No. 13). Although expressionistic elements appear in some of the works seen here, few American artists of this period were outright expressionists. The predominant emotional tone of art in the early Thirties is restrained. More often than not, artists strove for either classical reserve or romantic reverie in the moods and gestures of their figures. Color schemes tended to be muted or harmonious rather than saturated or shocking. Compositions similarly lacked uneasy tensions or conflicts, as a rule. Paint was usually applied with a gentleness of touch rather than with bravura sweeps of the brush. The pictures by Brackman (No. 6), Kroll (No. 21), and Sterne (No. 34) may be said to exemplify the "look" of the era. Neoclassicism had become a widespread influence in the Twenties, touching even Picasso. A related alternative was the Neo-Renaissance style, with its less severe manner of idealizing and streamlining the figure. Kenneth Hayes Miller, leader of the 14th Street group of artists, and his student Isa­ bel Bishop were particularly partial to the art of Renaissance Italy, as can be seen in Miller's Raphaelesque shopper (No. 28) and Bishop's Perugino-like Union Square (No. 3). This somewhat more descriptive classicism nevertheless managed to look up-to-date in their works. Miller's surface design, held in pastel harmonies and undisturbed by the gentle chiaro­ scuros, mitigates the illusion of depth. Bishop unfurls her dense frieze of figures and its corresponding frieze of skyline geometry across the broad picture plane with only slight spatial interruptions. This subtle form of abstraction brought their work, however peripherally, into agreement with more radical styles. Indeed, it can be said of most of the artists in this exhibition that they tended to flatten space and call atten­ tion to surface. Exceptions to this position of moderation were few and far between. Oscar Bluemner (No. 4) and Arthur Dove (No. 12), for example, created powerfully dramatic landscapes (both had ties with European expressionist movements prior to World War I), but John Marin (No. 27) and Charles Burch­ field (No. 7) were usually more subdued in their use of emotive form in the Thirties than they had been a decade earlier. George Luks continued to wield a pugilistic brush, in 13 �.egwy-yfa-.-.-. . category, since this movement thrived on sentiments of nos­ talgia, affirmation, and optimism. No single style dominated the movement, although most of its members, concerned as they were with reportorial and allegorical aims, chose to work in unradical manners. Subject matter, rather than style, defined the movement. The ubiquitous themes were land­ scape, particularly involving farmlife (e.g. Burchfield, No. 7), cityscape, with special attention to ghetto life (e.g. Jones, No. 18), and the human figure, usually in genre contexts (e.g. Soyer, No. 36). Those artists inclined toward a romantic con­ ception of the American scene included John Steuart Curry (No. 10), Morris Kantor (No. 19), Isaac Soyer (No. 36), and Francis Speight (No. 33). Lozowick and Sheeler (Nos. 25 and 31) also shared this approach with their immaculate and heroic urban studies. keeping with his lifestyle (No. 26), while Eugene Higgins called upon 19th century Romantic-Realism to animate his proletarians (No. 16). One of the repeated criticisms of Franklin Watkins' Suicide in Costume, which took first prize in the 1931 Carnegie Inter­ national, had been that it was overly dramatic. Looking back at it today, we might find it difficult to share that particular criticism. Tolerance for heavy emotional statements was ap­ parently not widespread in the Thirties. Watkins' Girl Think­ ing (No. 38) seems to be one of the most overtly emotional figures in this exhibition, but hers is not an aggressive emo­ tion; she appears more as a lost soul. Melancholy and resigna­ tion typified this period of American art more than hand­ wringing angst. On the other side of the emotional median, heroic grace, as in the works of Rockwell Kent, was usually favored over exuberant animation. Post-depression America sought verity and stability in an art of moderation. Not all Scenists embraced the romantic, however. While the movement had firm roots in the evocative nineteenth cen­ tury landscape tradition, it had even more immediate ties to the early twentieth century realist tradition, exemplifed by members of "The Eight" and the "Ash-Can School." Clarence Carter (No. 9), Jerome Myers (No. 29), Kenneth Hayes Miller (No. 28), and Isabel Bishop (No. 3) seemed to pursue a course of objectivity, although sometimes in stylized terms. Actual­ ly, hard and fast categorizations along the lines of "romantic' or "realist" are difficult to make with the artists of the American Scene. The movement's complex aims of objective analysis and heroic or lyrical affirmation, coupled with an American tradition of pragmatic idealism, made for a con­ tinual crossover of attitudes. The realism in Bishop's Dante and Virgil in Union Square (No. 3), for example, is clearly mitigated by its Neo-Renaissance idealism, as well as its allegorical overtones. (The picture was inspired by the artists reading in Dante's Inferno of passing multitudes which re­ minded her of the daily throngs in Union Square.) Only a few artists, such as Walt Kuhn (No. 22), injected an edge of psychic intensity into their figures, or in the case of the sculptor Gaston Lachaise, grandiose sexuality (No. 24). Even artists who were devoted to liberal causes — and many were — rarely exercised their activism aggressively in their "fine" art. Quite a few, like Benton, contributed cartoons and illustrations to progressive magazines and newspapers (No. 2), but only a handful imitated their admired Mexican col­ leagues Rivera and Orozco by creating politically potent "serious" art at this time (Higgins and Jones are examples). It is tempting to see the rise and spread of the passionate Ab­ stract Expressionist style in the Forties as a reaction to the re­ strained Thirties. Of course, the creation of that weighty movement involved many factors, but there was clearly room in American art for the absorption of generous amounts of overt emotionalism, whether pyschologically or politically motivated. One of the popular interpretations of the American Scene movement rests upon its "regionalist" character, in terms of styles and themes. The Museum of Modem Art helped to in­ A kind of subdued romanticism rather then expressionism characterized the art of the early Thirties. Not surprisingly, a great deal of the American Scene painting falls into that 14 27. JOHN MARIN Marin Island, Maine, 1932 Courtesy of Kennedy Gailer.es. Inc., NY, NY �movement thrived on sentiments of nos­ and optimism. No single style dominated ough most of its members, concerned as lortorial and allegorical aims, chose to anners. Subject matter, rather than style, ent. The ubiquitous themes were landivolving farmlife (e.g. Burchfield, No. 7), al attention to ghetto life (e.g. Jones, No. i figure, usually in genre contexts (e.g. ;e artists inclined toward a romantic conican scene included John Steuart Curry itor (No. 19), Isaac Soyer (No. 36), and 33). Lozowick and Sheeler (Nos. 25 and approach with their immaculate and nbraced the romantic, however. While m roots in the evocative nineteenth cenion, it had even more immediate ties to :entury realist tradition, exemplifed by it" and the "Ash-Can School." Clarence e Myers (No. 29), Kenneth Hayes Miller ishop (No. 3) seemed to pursue a course gh sometimes in stylized terms. Actualjorizations along the lines of "romantic" cult to make with the artists of the movement's complex aims of objective ir lyrical affirmation, coupled with an f pragmatic idealism, made for a contitudes. The realism in Bishop's Dante square (No. 3), for example, is clearly '-Renaissance idealism, as well as its (The picture was inspired by the artist s femo of passing multitudes which re­ ly throngs in Union Square.) 27. JOHN MARIN Morin Island, Maine. 1932 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries. Inc., NY, NY interpretations of the American Scene its "regionalist" character, in terms of : Museum of Modern Art helped to in15 �NOTES itiate this line of thinking with its Sixteen Cities Exhibition in 1933. Some of the artists in the present show who were in­ cluded in that event are Bohrod (Chicago), Carter (Cleveland), Speight (Philadelphia), Jones (St. Louis), and Burchfield (Buffalo). Taken as a whole, however, it would be difficult to discern regionally distinctive styles. Differences existed more amongst individual artists than amongst re­ gions. (Jones could have passed for a New Yorker, Burchfield for a midwesterner, in their works shown here.) It is more im­ portant to remember that the American Scene movement, as a whole, addressed itself to both the realities and poten­ tialities of American life. Broadly speaking, it showed less concern for the preoccupations with matters of form, which had characterized the previous decade. ’Not all artists followed this pattern. A few, like Arthur Dove and Stuart Davis, continued along their radial course. For a discussion of individual artists, see Milton Brown, American Painting from the Armory Show to the Depression. 1955. 1. MILTON AVERY ( 1893-1965> Baby Avery 1932 Oil on canvas, 30 x 25 March Avery Cavanaugh 2Art Digest, November 1, 1933, p. 25. 2Art News, October 8, 1932, p. 3. <Art Digest, November 1, 1933, p. 17. “ibid. '•Art Digest, January 15, 1933, p. 10. 7Art Digest, November 1, 1933, p. 19. Although our perception cannot but be colored by the ex­ traordinary diversity and energy of American art in recent decades, a feeling of chasteness in style and expression seems to pervade the art of this exhibition. Few of the artists rep­ resented here sought to strain the emotions or tax the intel­ lect. The art world of 1933 clearly tolerated a broad range of approaches, but with many conservatives assimilating onceheretical pronouncements of modernism, and many modern­ ists tipping their hats to tradition, extremes were moderated. Older revolutions still glowed in the art of artists like Davis and Marin, and a forthcoming revolution lurked in the work of Gorky, but the impact of the newer European radicalisms. Surrealism and geometric non-objectivity, was as yet hardly felt. Established values and cautious change were the order of the day. *2. THOMAS HART BENTON (1889-1975) Coming Round the Mountain 1931 Lithograph, 8', x II , New Britain Museum of American Art William F. Brooks Fund. 69.39 “Art Digest, October, 1931, p. 9. ’op,cit., p. 17. ’“Art Digest, June 1, 1933, p. 1 ff. ’’Art Digest, July 1, 1933, p. 6. 12Art Digest, October 1, 1933, p. 9. ’’For a discussion of this issue, see Matthew Baigell, The American Scene Painting of the 1930's, 1974. “Art Digest, May 1, 1933, p. 3. lsArt in America, January, 1982, pp. 9-15. William H. Sterling Chairman Art Department Wilkes College 3. ISABEL BISHOP (b. 1902) Dante and Virgil in Union Square, 1932 Oil on canvas. 27 x 52’, Delaware Art Museum, Gift of the Friends of Art 4. OSCAR BLUEMNER (1867-1938) Radiant Night, 1933 Oil on canvas (mounted on aluminum), 34 x 47 Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts *5 16 AARON BOHROD (b. 19071 Self-Portrait. 1932 Lithograph, 13 x 9 Butler Institute of American Art. Youngstown, Ohio �NOTES this pattern. A few, like Arthur Dove nued along their radial course. For a artists, see Milton Brown, American try Show to the Depression, 1955. LIST OF WORKS I 1. MILTON AVERY (1893-1965) Baby Avery, 1932 Oil on canvas, 30 x 25 March Avery Cavanaugh 1, 1933, p. 25. 1932, p. 3. 1, 1933, p. 17. 1933, p. 10. 1933, p. 19. 31, p. 9. 3, p. 1 ff. 1933, p. 9. is issue, see Matthew Baigell, The of the 1930's, 1974. j, 1982, pp. 9-15. *2. THOMAS HART BENTON (1889-1975) Coming 'Round the Mountain, 1931 Lithograph, 8% x 11% New Britain Museum of American Art William F. Brooks Fund, 69.39 3. ISABEL BISHOP (b. 1902) Dante and Virgil in Union Square, 1932 Oil on canvas, 27 x 52% Delaware Art Museum, Gift of the Friends of Art 4. OSCAR BLUEMNER (1867-1938) Radiant Night, 1933 Oil on canvas (mounted on aluminum), 34 x 47 Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts *5 AARON BOHROD (b. 1907) Self-Portrait. 1932 Lithograph, 13 x 9 Butler Institute of American Art, Youngstown, Ohio 6. ROBERT BRACKMAN (1898-1980) Somewhere in America, c. 1933 Oil on canvas, 30% x 25% National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Transfer from U.S. Department of Labor 7. CHARLES BURCHFIELD (1883-1967) Lilacs, 1927-29 Oil on canvas, 2436 x 353/< Delaware Art Museum John L. Sexton Bequest 8. ARTHUR B. CARLES (1882-1952) Bouquet Abstraction, c. 1930 Oil on canvas, 313A x 36 Lent by the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Purchase, 1953. 53.41 9. CLARENCE CARTER (b. 1904) The Red Bam, 1931 Watercolor, 1336 x 2036 New Britain Museum of American Art Gift of Norman Kent 10. JOHN STEUART CURRY (1897-1946) Clyde Beatty, 1932 Oil on canvas, 20J/2 x 3016 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc., NY, NY 17 11. STUART DAVIS, (1894-1964) Table With Pipe, c. 1929 Oil on canvas, 3134 x 2134 Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Lambert Fund Purchase 12. ARTHUR G. DOVE, (1880-1946) Silver Ball, 1929-30 Oil on canvas, 18 x 22 Vassar College Art Gallery Poughkeepsie, New York Gift of Paul Rosenfeld 13. GUY PENE DuBOIS (1884-1958) People, 1927 Oil on canvas, 45 x 57Vz Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Temple Fund Purchase *14. JOHN BERNARD FLANNAGAN (1895-1942) Mother and Child, c. 1933 Black crayon on paper, 17% x 934 Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, New York Gift of the Weyhe Gallery 15. ARSHILE GORKY, (1904-1948) Landscape, 1933 Oil on canvas, 25 x 21 The Metropolitan Museum of Art Gift of Dr. Meyer A. Pearlman, 1964 �16. EUGENE HIGGINS (1874-1958) The Black Cloud. c. 1930-31 Oil on canvas. 30 x 40% National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design 21. 22. 17. EDWARD HOPPER (1882-1967) Farmhouse at Essex ..Mass 1929 Watercolor, 14 x 20 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc. NY, NY 23 18. JOE JONES, (1909-1963) Street Scene, 1933 Oil on canvas, 25% x 36% National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Transfer from U.S. Department of Labor 19. MORRIS KANTOR (1896-1974, Farewell to Union Square. 1931 Oil on canvas, 36V, x 27% Collection of The Newark Museum 20. KARL KNATHS (1891-1971) Maritime, 1931 Oil on canvas, 40 x 32 The Phillips Collection, Washington, D.C. 28. KENNETH HAYES MILLER The Little Coat and Fur Shop- 1931 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University *2 �16. EUGENE HIGGINS (1874-1958) The Black Cloud, c. 1930-31 Oil on canvas, 30 x 40% National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design 17. EDWARD HOPPER (1882-1967) Farmhouse at Essex, Mass.. 1929 Watercolor, 14 x 20 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc. NY, NY 18. TOE JONES, (1909-1963) Street Scene. 1933 Oil on canvas, 25% x 36% National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Transfer from U.S. Department of Labor 19. MORRIS KANTOR (1896-1974) Farewell to Union Square, 1931 Oil on canvas, 36% x 27% Collection of The Newark Museum ER hop. 1931 t, niversity 20. KARL KNATHS (1891-1971) Maritime. 1931 Oil on canvas, 40 x 32 The Phillips Collection, Washington, D.C. 21. LEON KROLL (1884-1974) A Road Through The Willows, 1933 Oil on canvas, 26 x 42 Lent by the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Purchase, 1934. 34.17 26. GEORGE BENJAMIN LUKS (1867-1933) Red Bam, Berkshire Hills, c. 1930 Watercolor, 13% x 1916 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University 22. WALT KUHN (1880-1949) Grenadier, 1930 Oil on canvas, 30 x 25 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc., NY, NY 27. JOHN MARIN (1870-1953) Marin Island, Maine, 1932 Watercolor, 15 x 2136 Courtesy of Kennedy Galleries, Inc., NY, NY 23. YASUO KUNIYOSHI (1893-1953) Fruit on Table, 1932 Oil on canvas, 42 x 30 Nebraska Art Association Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Waugh; Courtesy Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery University of Nebraska-Lincoln 28. KENNETH HAYES MILLER (1876-1952) The Little Coat and Fur Shop, 1931 Oil on board, 4216 x 3016 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University *24. GASTON LACHAISE (1882-1935) Woman, c. 1930 Pencil on paper, 19 x 12% Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, New York Gift of Agnes Rindge Claflin 29. JEROME MYERS (1867-1940) Street Shrine, 1931 Oil on canvas, 40% x 30 National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design *25. LOUIS LOZOWICK (1892-1973) Midair, 1932 Lithograph 35/50, 16 x 11 ¥2 The Art Museum, Princeton University (Bequest of Henry K. Dick, Class of 1909) I 19 30. HENRY VARNUM POOR (1888-1970) Paris Self-Portrait, 1930 Oil on canvas, 27V1 x 3036 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State Museum Gift of the Class of 1932 �31. CHARLES SHEELER (1883-1965) Delmonico Building, 1926 Lithograph, 10 x 7% Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University 32. JOHN SLOAN (1871-1951) Girl Back to the Piano, 1932 Oil on canvas, 20 x 24 Kraushaar Galleries 33. FRANCIS SPEIGHT (b. 1896) Coal Slag Heap, 1932 Oil on canvas, 27 x 31% Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University 34. MAURICE STERNE (1878-1957) Portrait of Assunta, c. 1932 Oil on masonite, 25% x 19%6 Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, New York 35. JOHN STORRS (1885-1956) Opposing Forms, 1932 Bronz relief, 9% x 10Vi Courtesy Robert Schoelkopf Gallery 36. ISAAC SOYER (1907-1981) Cafeteria, 1930 Oil on canvas, 21% x 25% Brooks Memorial Art Gallery, Memphis, TN; Gift of Mr. E. R. Brumley 45-12 37. BRADLEY WALKER TOMLIN (1899-1953) Studio Window, c. 1928 Oil on canvas, 39 x 32 Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Lambert Fund Purchase 38. FRANKLIN WATKINS (1894-1972) Girl Thinking, 1933 Oil on canvas, 12’/16 x 9% Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute, Utica, New York Bequest of Edward W. Root 39. MAX WEBER (1881-1961) Straggley Pine, 1933 Oil on canvas, 24 x 32 The Metropolitan Museum of Art George A. Hearn Fund, 1937 40. MARGUERITE ZORACH (1887-1968) The Picnic, 1928 Oil, 34 x 44 Kraushaar Galleries 41. WILLIAM ZORACH (1887-1966) Artist's Daughter, 1932 Bronze, 25% x 15 x 11 Zabriskie Gallery 'No photograph available. �1. MILTON AVERY Baby Avery, 1932 March Avery Cavanaugh ZJ ���b ROBERT BRACKMAN Sun? 'I-hcri- Hl A’rfir■'/> 4 C 19J3 National M-.< '•: AnMTtcar Art. SmithMrnun Institution Tranter from ’ ■ $ Drpartm-eiV «t Labor 7. CHARLES BLkCHFlEi-T5 b/a 1927-2* Mr! a ware Ar* John I Si 'f �BERT BRACKMAN tewhere in America, c. 1933 ional Museum of American Art, thsonian Institution, nsfer from . Department of Labor ■ <_nAr<LtS BUR CHFIELD Lakes 1927-29 Delaware Art Museum John L. Sextos Bequest 25 �9. CLARENCE CARTER The Red Bam. 1<?31 New Britain Museum of American Art. Gift of Norman Kent 8. ARTHUR B. CARLES Bouquet Abstraction, c. 1930 Lent by the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Purchase, 1953. 53.41 26 ���11. STUART DAVIS Table With Pipe, 1930 Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Lambert Fund Purchase �12. ARTHUR G. DOVE Silver Ball. 1929-30 Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, New York Gift of Paul Rosenfeld 13. GUY PENT DuBOIS People c. 1927 Pennsylvania Academy nf the Fine . Temple Fund Purchase 30 ��16. EUGENE HIGGINS The Black Cloud c. 1930-31 National Museum of American Ar: Snuthsci Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design �l 15. ARSHILE GORKY Landscape, 1933 The Metropolitan Museum of Art Gift of Dr. Meyer A. Pearlman, 1964 16. EUGENE HIGGINS The Black Cloud, c. 1930-31 National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design 33 �aid 33B �19. MORRIS KANTOR Farewell to Union Square, 1931 Collection of The Newark Museum �21. LEON KROLL A Road Through The Willows 19 Lent by the Whitney Museum of American Art. Nev, York; Purchase, 1934, 34 17 �FHS 131 Collection, Washington ����1YERS ze, 1931 [useum of American Art, n Institution Henry Ward Ranger through the cademy of Design 30. henry varnum poor Paris Self-Portrait, 1930 Collection Museum of Art The Pennsylvania State University Gift of the Class of 1932 ��31. CHARLES SHEELER Delmonico Building, 1926 Collection Museum of Art, The Pennsylvania State University ��- I 34. MAURICE STERNE Portrait of Assunta, c. 1932 Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, New York �35. JOHN STORRS Opposing Forms, 1932 Courte»y Robert Schoelkopf Gallery 46 ���WLEY WALKER TOMLIN dio Window, c. 1928 msylvania Academy he Fine Aris nbert Fund Purchase 38. FRANKLIN WATKINS Girl Thinking, 1933 Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute, Utica, New York Bequest of Edward W. Root �39. MAX WEBER Straggley Pine, 1933 The Metropolitan Museum of Art George A. Hearn Fund, 1937 ^arguertte zorach Picnic. 1928 Krau5haar Gallery ��s o R D ° N 1 ART GALLERY WILKES COLLEGE Director Judith H. O'Toole Advisory Commission Albert Margolies, Chairma Robert S. Capin Aleta Connell Patricia Davies Juliette Epstein Richard Fuller Thomas Kelly Shirley Klein Sue Kluger Paul Mailloux Marilyn Maslow Robert Ott Sandy Rifkin Jill Saporito Helen Farr Sloan Andrew Sordoni. Ill William Sterling ^,S°uth Rsver Street Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania (717) 824-4651, Ext. 388 �RACH ter, 1932 sy SORDO N I art gallery WILKES COLLEGE Director Judith H. O'Toole Advisory Commission Albert Margolies, Chairman Robert S. Capin Aleta Connell Patricia Davies Juliette Epstein Richard Fuller Thomas Kelly Shirley Klein Sue Kluger Paul Mailloux Marilyn Maslow Robert Ott Sandy Rifkin Jill Saporito Helen Farr Sloan Andrew Sordoni, III William Sterling 150 South River Street Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania 18766 (717) 824-4651, Ext. 388 ��� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/3182f7a28a928eeccb900190731e02a9.pdf f0243d147e100eb76ea22a82ccab5d79 PDF Text Text ���������������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1983 March 20 1933 Revisited: American Masters of the Early Thirties Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Milton Avery Thomas Hart Benton Isabel Bishop Oscar Bluemner Aaron Bohrod Robert Brackman Charles Burchfield Author B. Carles Clarence Carter John Stuart Curry Stuart Davis Aurthur G. Dove Guy Pene DuBois John Berard Flannagan Arshile Gorky Eugene Higgins Edward Hopper Joe Jones Morris Kantor Karl Knaths Leon Kroll Walt Kuhn Yasuo Kuniyoshi Gaston Lachaise Louis Lozowick George Benjamin Luks John Marin Kenneth Hayes Miller Jerome Myers Henry Varnum Poor Charles Sheeler John Sloan Francis Speight Maurice Sterne John Strorrs Isaac Soyer Bradley Walker Tomlin Franklin Watkins Max Weber Marguerite Zorach William Zorach William Sterling Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1983 March 20 - April 24 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/73b187d042f346b589837d8e3b716cf1.pdf a28743abcfc5b215f69fa6530f806f35 PDF Text Text ���� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1983 October 1 Stephen Porter: Sculpture Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Stephen Porter Dr. Wilma Stern Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 10/1/83 - 10/30/83 1983 October 1- 30 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/774f2f5dc352372588892db81e1d8ce3.pdf e093e43e86ac2f0a5d35833bff2816e3 PDF Text Text Carl Sprinchorn: Realist Impulse and RomanticVision SORD GA ND237 S644A3 1984 �Carl Sprmchorn: Realist Impulse and RomanticVision Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania November 13 through December 30, 1983 Westmoreland County Museum of Art Greensburg, Pennsylvania January 14 through February 26, 1984 The Jane Voorhees Zimmerli Art Museum Rutgers — The State University of New Jersey New Brunswick, New Jersey April 8 through June 3, 1984 Exhibition organized by the Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College and supported by grants from The John Sloan Memorial Foundation and the Sordoni Foundation, Inc. E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA 1 �Table Of Contents Acknowledgements ... Reminiscences of Carl Sprinchom Carl Sprinchom: Realist Impulse and Romantic Vision Checklist of the Exhibition . 2. Robert Henri (1865-1929) Portrait of Carl Sprinchom, 1910 Oil on canvas Gift of Anna Sprinchom Johnson, 76.43 Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art Cornell University "Sprinchom has proven by his concentrated persistent devotion to his work, that nothing diverts him from the high purpose and standard he has set for himself. Robert Henri said of him that he considered him a genius and on such occasions as I have exhibited his work, it has met with high praise from critics, artists and connoisseurs. In fact, it is only due to the artist's modesty and concentration on the effort he makes in his work, that he has failed to achieve from a material point of view what is called 'success'.'' Marie Sterner Quoted from a letter to the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation. 1941 (UMO> 2 4 5 8 . . .17 �Table Of Contents Acknowledgements 4 Reminiscences of Carl Sprinchorn . . 5 Carl Sprinchorn: Realist Impulse and Romantic Vision Checklist of the Exhibition 8 17 : devotion to his work, that rd he has set for himself, uus and on such occasions as from critics, artists and esty and concentration on the eve from a material point of Marie Sterner Quoted from a letter to the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation 1941 (UMOi 3 �Reminiscences of Carl Spriiuhorn Acknowledgements by Bennard B Perlmw. This exhibition of the works of Carl Sprinchorn (1887-1971) is the first major presentation dedicated to that artist since the memorial exhibition held at the University of Maine (Orono) one year after his death. It is our hope that this will be the first step in bringing recognition to an artist whom Robert Henri called a genius — an artist who withdrew from what he thought to be the hyprocrisy of the art market and devoted himself entirely to his painting. There are many people to whom I am indebted for their assistance with this project. I would like to thank Sandy and Arnold Rifkin for bringing Sprinchom’s work to my attention and for suggesting an exhibition. Special thanks are reserved for Kathryn Freeman annd Frederica Beinert, life-long friends of the artist, who, despite an illness, gave lovely, long afternoons to me in conversations about their i i cherished friend. Robert F. and Patricia Ross We^ v also graciously open with their reminiscences j?J »vi«h their collection. A week was spent at the University of Maine lOrono: jn preparation for the accompanying essay. 1 would like to thank Edward Kellog. Head of the Special Collections De­ partment at the Raymond H. Fogler Library and his staff for giving me access to the Spnnchorn papers: and Mr Ron Ghiz, then Acting Director of the Art Collections, tor arranging for me to see their holdings bv Sprinchorn I am grateful too for the enthusiastic support ot Mrs John Sloan; Andrew J. Sordoni, III: Robert S. ( apin President of Wilkes College: the members of my Advisory Commis sion; and the competence of my assi ' mt. Douglas Evans Judith H. O Toole, Director It was shortly before I vilock or . - ■ July 16th when 1 arrived at C.iri Sprincnom apartment tor the interview My rapid gait gradually slewed as 1 climbed the last flight ot stairs to his ritth floor walkup at 535 Hudson Street located on the western fringe ot Greenwich Village in Lower Manhattan The year was 195o and when (hi door wa-. opened, my initial reaction was that the artist who cordially greeted me appeared mm h younger than his s.xty-nme years. His head was sculpturesque: a prominent nose deep-set eves, high cheek bones and a strong jaw My mission was to gather information tor a book about The Eight which included interviewing artist', such as Sprinchorn who had been a student of Robert Henri According to my notes of that visit the Swedishborn painter initially remarked I was probably the first European to come to America to study' art. adding that he was only sixteen years old at the time. Three day-, after his arrival in the fall of 1903 he was enrolled at the New York School of Art Now, a halt century later, i twenty eight-year-old artist and college teacher sat in awe ot the older man. who was able to instantly and accurately recall dates and incidents from his youth Sprinchorn spoke ot the good-natured hazing and pranks perpetrated on each new enrollee in the Henri class and how another teacher, William Merritt Chase, would always turn to h>s pupil Walter Path when he wav stumped for ar. artist's name or a date important in art history When Henri withdrew from the school after six years because he was owed 5800 in back salary, and established his own classes in the Lincoln Anade in January. 1W, Sprinchorn related how his students demonstrated their loyalty by parading with their canvases down Broadway from the former school to the new location at 66th Street Carl Sprinchorn served fur a time as manager of the Henri School When the interviewer made a chance remark about Mr, Sprinchorn's apartment being just three blocks from the Hudson River, it prompted the artist to recall one of his teacher s critiques in which he took special pride: in Henri's Composition Class, forty or fifty student works would be placed against a wall, he explained One week there were several paintings of the Hudson River from which he took his cue. talking for nearly an hour about the varied sweep of the shoreline, the appropriate placement of boats along the river and the different proportions of water to land and sky. After dwelling at length on a Bellows interpretation. Henn finally fumed and pointed a three-foot maul stick toward a large canvas by me," Sprinchorn remarked Then Her n observed. AU of you have shown boats going up and doe, the) K Spr tkb an , afte t xh Dir Bal tho cou arc eve Nel of . dis, 1 Cai yel wj Ah for �Reminiscences of Carl Sprinchorn by Bonnard B. Perlman cherished friend. Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis were It was shortly before 1 o’clock on a hot and humid also graciously open with their reminiscences and with July 16th when I arrived at Carl Sprinchorn’s apartment their collection. for the interview. My rapid gait gradually slowed as I A week was spent at the University of Maine (Orono) in climbed the last flight of stairs to his fifth-floor walkup preparation for the accompanying essay. I would like to at 535 Hudson Street, located on the western fringe of thank Edward Kellog, Head of the Special Collections De­ Greenwich Village in Lower Manhattan. partment at the Raymond H. Fogler Library, and his staff The year was 1956 and when the door was opened, for giving me access to the Sprinchorn papers; and Mr. my initial reaction was that the artist who cordially Ron Ghiz, then Acting Director of the Art Collections, for greeted me appeared much younger than his sixty-nine arranging for me to see their holdings by Sprinchorn. years. His head was sculpturesque: a prominent nose, I am grateful too for the enthusiastic support of Mrs. John deep-set eyes, high cheek bones and a strong jaw. Sloan; Andrew J. Sordoni, 111; Robert S. Capin, President My mission was to gather information for a book of Wilkes College; the members of my Advisory Commis­ about "The Eight,"1 which included interviewing artists sion; and the competence of my assistant, Douglas Evans. such as Sprinchorn who had been a student of Robert Judith H. O Toole, Director Henri. According to my notes of that visit, the Sw'edishborn painter initially remarked: "1 was probably the first European to come to America to study art," adding that he was only sixteen years old at the time. Three days after his arrival in the fall ol 1903 he was enrolled at the New York School of Art. Now, a half-century later, a twenty-eight-year-old artist and college teacher sat in awe of the older man, who was able to instantly and accurately recall dates and incidents from his youth. Sprinchorn spoke of the good-natured hazing and pranks perpetrated on each new enrollee in the Henri class and how another teacher, William Merritt Chase, would always turn to his pupil Walter Pach when he was stumped for an artist's name or a date important in art history. When Henri withdrew from the school after six years because he was owed $800 in back salary, and established his own classes in the Lincoln Arcade in January, 1909, Sprinchorn related how his students demonstrated their loyalty by parading with their canvases down Broadway from the former school to the new location at 66th Street. Carl Sprinchorn served for a time as manager of the Henri School. When the interviewer made a chance remark about Mr. Sprinchorn’s apartment being just three blocks from the Hudson River, it prompted the artist to recall one of his teacher's critiques in which he took special pride: "In Henri's Composition Class, forty or fifty student works would be placed against a wall," he explained. "One week there were several paintings of the Hudson River from which he took his cue, talking for nearly an hour about the varied sweep of the shoreline, the appropriate placement of boats along the river and the different proportions of water to land and sky. After dwelling at length on a Bellows interpretation, Henri finally turned and pointed a three-foot maul stick toward a large canvas by me," Sprinchorn remarked. "Then Henri observed: 'All of you have shown boats going up and This exhibition of the works of Carl Sprinchorn (1887-1971) is the first major presentation dedicated to that artist since the memorial exhibition held at the University of Maine (Orono) one year after his death. It is our hope that this will be the first step in bringing recognition to an artist whom Robert Henri called a genius — an artist who withdrew from what he thought to be the hyprocrisy of the art market and devoted himself entirely to his painting. There are many people to whom I am indebted for their assistance with this project. I would like to thank Sandy and Arnold Rifkin for bringing Sprinchorn’s work to my attention and for suggesting an exhibition. Special thanks are reserved for Kathryn Freeman annd Frederica Beinert, life-long friends of the artist, who, despite an illness, gave lovely, long afternoons to me in conversations about their 4 dowi they Ki Sprii (Bah an a alter exhil Dire recoi Balti thou cour are r ever New of ai disci T1 Carl yelk was Afte forrr tl a1 ai N o h L a cl a ti A it S tt it c / 5 ti k t b �Reminiscences of Carl Sprinchorn | bv Bennard B. Perlman Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis were en with their reminiscences and with t at the University of Maine (Orono) in accompanying essay. I would like to >g. Head of the Special Collections De­ smond H. Fogler Library, and his staff ;s to the Sprinchorn papers; and Mr. ng Director of the Art Collections, for see their holdings by Sprinchorn. or the enthusiastic support of Mrs. John jrdoni. III; Robert S. Capin, President he members of my Advisory' Commistence of my assistant, Douglas Evans. Judith H. O'Toole, Director It was shortly before 1 o'clock on a hot and humid July 16th when I arrived at Carl Sprinchorn's apartment for the interview. My rapid gait gradually slowed as I climbed the last flight of stairs to his fifth-floor walkup at 535 Hudson Street, located on the western fringe of Greenwich Village in Lower Manhattan. The year was 1956 and when the door was opened, my initial reaction was that the artist who cordially greeted me appeared much younger than his sixty-nine years. His head was sculpturesque: a prominent nose, deep-set eyes, high cheek bones and a strong jaw. My mission was to gather information for a book about "The Eight,"’ which included interviewing artists such as Sprinchorn who had been a student of Robert Henri. According to my notes of that visit, the Swedishbom painter initially remarked: "I was probably the first European to come to America to study art," adding that he was only sixteen years old at the time. Three days after his arrival in the fall of 1903 he was enrolled at the New York School of Art. Now, a half-century later, a twenty-eight-year-old artist and college teacher sat in awe of the older man, who was able to instantly and accurately recall dates and incidents from his youth. Sprinchorn spoke of the good-natured hazing and pranks perpetrated on each new enrollee in the Henri class and how another teacher, William Merritt Chase, would always turn to his pupil Walter Pach when he was stumped for an artist's name or a date important in art history. When Henri withdrew from the school after six years because he was owed S800 in back salary, and established his own classes in the Lincoln Arcade in January, 1909, Sprinchorn related how his students demonstrated their loyalty by parading with their canvases down Broadway from the former school to the new location at 66th Street. Carl Sprinchorn served for a time as manager of the Henri School. When the interviewer made a chance remark about Mr. Sprinchorn's apartment being just three blocks from the Hudson River, it prompted the artist to recall one of his teacher's critiques in which he took special pride: In Henri's Composition Class, forty or fifty student works would be placed against a wall," he explained. "One week there were several paintings of the Hudson River from w'hich he took his cue, talking for nearly an hour about the varied sweep of the shoreline, the appropriate placement of boats along the river and the different proportions of water to land and sky. After dwelling at length on a Bellows interpretation, Henri finally turned and pointed a three-foot maul stick toward a large canvas by me," Sprinchorn remarked. "Then Henri observed: 'All of you have shown boats going up and down the river. Only this painting demonstrates that they go across the river as well'." Knowing that I hailed from Baltimore, Carl Sprinchorn produced a three-decade-old copy of The (Baltimore) Sun in which his picture appeared along-side an article. It referred to his having been in Baltimore to attend the opening of a Modern French Painting exhibition at the Museum of Art. In his capacity as Director of New York's New Gallery, Sprinchorn had recommended that a similar facility be established in Baltimore. "At the New Galleries hundreds, if not thousands, of young artists show their work during the course of the year," he had been quoted as saying. "We are not a commercial institution. Rather, we exist to give every opportunity to talent when it reveals itself. The New Gallery has proved the means of 'finding' a number of artists whose work otherwise never might have been discovered."2 The article, though interesting, was a digression. Then Carl Sprinchorn produced another publication, a yellowing copy of Putnam's Monthly Magazine which was more to the point. It explained how his oil entitled After a Snowstorm was in part responsible for the formation of "the Eight": ... It was this painting, among others, the rejection of which by his fellow jurymen caused Robert Henri, the distinguished figure-painter, to withdraw his own accepted paintings from the exhibition of 1906-07, and to criticize the conventional standards of the National Academy so unsparingly. On that occasion, in the course of a published interview, he [Henri] said: Life's philosophy can be expressed as strongly in art as through any other medium, and the painter who does this faltering at first, perhaps, and yet with the assurance of definite aim and purpose and future triumph, is the man to uphold, to encourage, and a National Academy in fact as in name would inevitably so uphold and so encourage. Carl Sprinchorn — to select an incident that comes to mind — goes down into a grimy, squalid side street in the slums of New York, and with a blizzard raging, catches a big new note and places it upon canvas with haunting effect. But placed before the Academy jury, does it receive the slightest recognition? Quite the contrary; it is rejected. Sprinchorn is young and has never been honored by the admission of a painting in the Academy, yet I know of few more promising painters. His story is the story of every man of whatever calling who has brought with him something new. . . I 5 �i played in the history of American Art, bu: as an artist my fascination was with the masterful handling of paint the spontaneous, slashing brushstrokes, the verve and 1 i Sprinchorn canvas to have sung its praises the year before, in 1906, when he showed it to a newspaper reporter during an interview in his classroom: Here is the work of a boy named Sprinchorn . . • New York whitewings cleaning east side streets after a snowstorm - not an idealized study but just as we have seen them . . . Truthful, isn't it? Well, a couple of years ago that boy came to me with a study in still-life to show as a specimen of his work — rruit, I think it was, or a glove and a water pitcher you know the kind. It was one of the worst I ever saw, and I told him so. He stopped studying bananas and water pitchers and went out to look at life plain New York life, as he could find it anywhere. Now he paints that kind, and his work has more virility and character to it than years of academic puttering over mush could give it.4 The flap referred to in Putnam's Magazine over the Carl Sprinchorn painting, and one by George Luks called Woman with Macaws, actually came after the jurying for the 1907 National Academy of Design Annual but before the exhibition opened. Both works had been placed in a number three category, signifying that they would be hung if space permitted. As was the custom, the Academy jury, of which Henri was a member, was called upon to inspect and approve the selection and placement of the paintings by a threemember Hanging Committee. But when Henri noticed that both the Sprinchorn and Luks canvases had been eliminated from the show, he pointed out an area in one of the galleries where they could be hung. A member of the Hanging Committee questioned his intent. Did he mean to "improve the wall" or simply see to it that the work of certain men was hung? Henri's reply was direct and to the point: "I don't care for the wall, I only care for the men."5 Despite the forthright response, or perhaps because of it, the two compositions were hunted up and hung in the show. Henri's triumph was short-lived, however, for the following day they were eliminated once more, the excuse being that "the two paintings in question spoiled the mural effect of the other pictures hung nearby."5 This was due, of course, to the unconventional nature of the subject matter and painting styles, neither of which conformed to the academic norm of the day. And then Carl Sprinchorn told me that he still owned the canvas I I was ushered into the adjoining room where he pulled the 30-by-40-inch composition from a large collection of his work. As a historian I was naturally impressed by the pivotal role this cityscape had dash. Sprinchorn explained how he had produced it from a third-floor window of a building on the northeast corner of 56th Street, looking south on Eleventh Avenue. The painting was predominantly gray, possessing just the slightest evidence of yellow ochre and Venetian red in two tenements in the right middleground. Factories and four tall smokestacks served as a backdrop for huge snow drifts which dominated the entire lower half of the composition. "I started it early one morning on that kind of a day and finished it before dark and have never touched it since," the artist would reveal in a letter some years later.7 But now he shared another secret: The subject of his cityscape was a block from the Hudson River, on the west side of New York; however, Henri's repeated reference to it in 1906 and '07 as the East Side caused him to retitle it A Winter Scene on the East Side, New York, 1907s (cat. no. 1). Although we talked for another hour, the high point of that July day in 1956 had been the privilege of meeting Carl Sprinchorn and viewing A Winter Scene. Later that afternoon I visited a well-known New York collector and shared my enthusiasm for the painting, but he was not sufficiently interested to contact the artist. The following month I told a museum director of the find but her acquisitions of American Art were more contemporary in nature. Determined to locate a buyer for the masterwork, I mentioned its availability to Bob Graham, of James Graham & Sons on Madison Avenue, and that conversation bore fruit. In January, Carl Sprinchorn wrote that Mr. Graham had paid him a visit and "is the agent for the painting — it now being in his gallery (with several later works of mine)."’ And in February, 1957 the Sprinchorn canvas was included in an exhibition at Graham's called Aspects of American Painting, 1910-1954, which also featured paintings by Stuart Davis, John Marin, Alfred Maurer, Walter racn. Morgan Russell and Stanton MacDonald-Wright.' Still determined that Carl Sprinchorn's major composition should find a home, I finally succeede in whetting the appetite of a Baltimore couple, c0 ec ° j and friends, who have cherished it all of these years who graciously agreed to lend it to this show. During the late 1950s. Carl Sprinchorn and I corresponded regularly. The routine was that send him questions relative to my research c°n<ie_ The Eight" and he. in return, wrote wonderfu y detailed and lengthy missives. On one occasion 6 list of all of the Henri students whose names a volume of the American Art Annual, and S noted beside the names of those he knew thei and whether they had studied at the New Yo: of Art or the Henri School. When one of my proved too much even for him. he forwarded fellow art school classmates, Edward and Josi Hopper, so that they could fill in the blanks. Sprinchorn's enthusiams and assistance appea unending. Yet on August 2, 1964 I received my last It Carl Sprinchorn. "I've had a stroke," he info: "which accounts for this very poor writing." concluded that four-page missive with these i "Thank you for including me in such a flatte your book. Much has happened since those c more is bound to happen, but of that, some But for me, Sprinchorn's "some other time" r �T i ed in the history of American Art, but as an artist artist fascination was with the masterful handlmg of paint spontaneous, —slashing dashine brushstrokes, rus s ro es the«■ verve and list of all of the Henri students whose names appeared in I a vo]ume of the American Art Annual, and Sprinchorn noted beside the names of those he knew their addresses 1. The Immortal Eight: American Painting from Eakins to the Armory Show (1962; revised edition, 1979). 2. "Gallery for 'Modern' Artists in Baltimore Urged by Painter," The (Baltimore) Sun, January, 10, 1925. _ 3. "The Lounger" Column, Putnam's Monthly & The Reader, V (December, 1908), p. 376. 4. Izola Forrester, "New York's Art Anarchists: Here Is the Revolutionary Creed of Robert Henri and His Followers," New York World, June 10, 1906, 5. "That Tragic Wall," New York Sun, March 16, 1907. 6. 'The Henri Hurrah," American Art News, V (March 23,1907), p. 4. 7. Letter from Carl Sprinchorn to Mr. and Mrs. Sigmund M. Hyman, September 29, 1964. 8. Carl Sprinchorn apparently erred when he included the date "1907" in the title. Since the painting was referred to by Henri in the June, 1906 interview, it would have been created in that year. 9. Letter from Carl Sprinchorn to the author, January 20, 1957. 10. In the catalogue for this exhibition, the Sprinchorn painting was incorrectly titled New York City — Snow Scene, 1910. and whether they had studied at the New York School rinchom explained how he had produced it from a i of Art or the Henri School. When one of my queries -floor window of a building on the northeast corner proved too much even for him, he forwarded it to his >th Street, looking south on Eleventh Avenue. The fellow art school classmates, Edward and Josephine :ing was predominantly gray, possessing just the Hopper, so that they could fill in the blanks. test evidence of yellow ochre and Venetian red in Sprinchorn's enthusiams and assistance appeared tenements in the right middleground. Factories and I unending. tall smokestacks served as a backdrop for huge Yet on August 2, 1964 I received my last letter from ' drifts which dominated the entire lower half of th< le Carl Sprinchorn. '‘I've had a stroke," he informed me, >osition. "I started it early one morning on that ’ kind ■ "which accounts for this very poor writing." He day and finished it before dark and have never concluded that four-page missive with these words: ted it since," the artist tvould reveal in a letter some < "Thank you for including me in such a flattering way in later.7 your book. Much has happened since those days — and t now he shared another secret: The subject of his more is bound to happen, but of that, some other time." ape was a block from the Hudson River, on the But for me, Sprinchorn's "some other time" never came. side of New York; however, Henri's repeated nee to it in 1906 and '07 as the East Side caused o retitle it A Winter Scene on the East Side, New 1907s (cat. no. 1). hough we talked for another hour, the high point it July day in 1956 had been the privilege of ng Carl Sprinchorn and viewing A Winter Scene. er that afternoon I visited a well-known New’ York tor and shared my enthusiasm for the painting, but s not sufficiently interested to contact the artist, allowing month I told a museum director of the ut her acquisitions of American Art were more nporary in nature. Determined to locate a buyer e masterwork, I mentioned its availability to Bob im, of James Graham & Sons on Madison Avenue, lat conversation bore fruit. In January, Carl :horn wrote that Mr. Graham had paid him a visit s the agent for the painting — it now’ being in his r (with several later works of mine)."’ And in try, 1957 the Sprinchorn canvas was included in libition at Graham's called Aspects of American ig, 1910-1954, which also featured paintings by Davis, John Marin, Alfred Maurer, Walter Pach, in Russell and Stanton MacDonald-Wright.10 determined that Carl Sprinchorn's major isition should find a home, I finally succeede m ng the appetite of a Baltimore couple, collectors iends, who have cherished it all of these years a raciously agreed to lend it to this show'. ing the late 1950s, Carl Sprinchorn and I bonded regularly. The routine was that I w’ou im questions relative to my research concern light and he, in return, wrote wonderfu y j a d and lengthy missives. On one occasion Bennard B. Perlman is a Baltimore artist, writer and lecturer who is Professor and Chairman of the Department of Fine and Applied Arts at the Communitty College of Baltimore. His biography, Robert Henri: His Life and Art, will appear in the spring. 7 �, I I - ’ Carl Sprinchorn: Realist Impulse and Romantic i ision by Judith H. O'Toole Sprincom's first meeting with Robert Henri came several days after he entered the latter's life class. The student described his teacher as "a dark and sinister looking man, raven, straight hair falling . . . over the eyes and . . . looking up under the fringe 'tho too tall t have needed to look under at anybody. . . ,"s Despite ° this initial impression of a stern, aloof critic in Henri the student responded almost immediately to the charismatic guidance of his eloquent instructor. Perh; laps Sprinchorn's initial exclusion from the distracting classroom antics of his fellow students further convinced the already committed youth to concentrate fully on his work. His dedication and hard work seems to have paid off as he learned his lessons quickly and well, soon developing a strong, personal style. Henri was a teacher who had the rare and tremendous power to instill in others his love of art. He had attracted a large student following who created a demand for his time in critiques and filled every seat in his lecture room.6 Henri's special interest in Sprinchorn must be taken as an indication that the young Swede was an artist of promising ability. In 1907, Henri's confidence in Sprinchorn had an opportunity to become known. For several years, Sprinchorn had been producing large canvases of city­ scenes executed with a strength and bravura that caused them to be much talked about at the school. He had submitted these paintings to past exhibitions at the National Academy but none had ever been accepted. This process was repeated in 1906 with far-reaching consequences. Sprinchorn still vividly recalled the incident thirty-three years later when he wrote: "This was the time when my 11th Avenue in a snow storm (cat. no. 1) was sent to the Academy, refused, and as per certain records in clippings, a Putnam magazine article and reproduction, caused the big rumpus and brought column-long newspaper stories, interviewers to my door, and Henri and others to withdraw their own accepted works in protest. . . ,"7 Throughout this affair, Henri stood by, guiding the inexperienced youth throug interviews with the press and other pressures brought on by such a sudden wave of notoriety. An instance particularly revealing of Henri's character came when e asked each reporter in person not to mention in their articles the fact that Sprinchorn was working as a servant/waiter in a boarding house, but to focus entire on his status as a young, professional painter.8 Henri presented his own view of the incident in a published interview reprinted in 1908 (the year of Eight's first group exhibition at the MacBeth Gallery Putnam magazine. In it he compared Sprinchorn to of great masters who had been scorned at the beginnin their careers but later were lauded. Carl Sprinchorn once wrote that he believed himself tto be the first European who came to study art in the United States.’ He arrived in New York City m 1903, a time when American artists were still flocking to the art centers of the continent for instruction and. indeed, it was considered that an artist’s career was not properly launched without a stint abroad. The innovations and achievements of the European, and particularly the French, artists of the late nineteenth century were still fresh and waiting to be absorbed. The early twentieth century, however, would prove to be a prodigious moment for a young artist to arrive in New York. This was a time when a thoroughly American, modem art movement was being conceived. Sprinchorn was bom in the rural town of Broby, Sweden, in 1887. At the age of sixteen, he left his mother's family, to wrhom he would remain close, and joined his sister in the United States. He arrived in New York on October 31, 1903. Three days later, with no grasp of the English language and still unfamiliar with the city, Sprinchorn enrolled in Robert Henn's morning life drawing class at William Merritt Chase s New York School of Art on West 57th Street. He was accompanied that morning by his sister who, much to Sprinchorn's chagrin, had insisted on wearing her Salvation Army uniform in the hope of being granted a lower tuition. This ploy being unsuccessful, the young Swede paid the monthly fee of five dollars and "purchased such things as were essential to the work, a large black portfolio ■with some sheets of French charcoal paper, charcoal sticks, a kneaded eraser, two clothespins to hold the paper to the portfolio, and ... a plumb line."2 That same morning the class monitor was rung for and Sprinchorn was led "into the mysterious realms of an art life class, a vast, skylighted place filled with pupils at easels and at up-turned chairs with portfolios, drawing and painting in a pandemonium of activity' and everywhere daubs of paint, caricatures covering the walls and canvases propped all around."3 Sprinchorn’s first year at the school was to be a difficult one. He spoke no English, and his fellow students, after a few exasperating attempts to communicate through a young man from Minneapolis whose only phrases in Swedish were "this is good, this is not so good,'4 left the newcomer to himself. Several years later. Guy Pene du Bois introduced Sprinchorn at a student reunion as the only man who never "set 'em up, referring to the beer and sandwich party thrown by every student to curtail the pranks and hazing by the oftfm dentS' Spnnchorn never knew ^is was expected "Wagner, expressing great life-thoughts through music, was pronounced a mere maker of noise; Walt Whitman, whose book of poems Whittier cast into the fire, sent a similar chill down the spine of conventional culture; Degas, Manet and Whistler and their academy of the rejected; Puvis de Chavannes — oh, ever so many, despised and laughed at first but later recognized as dreamers of fresh dreams, makers of new songs, creators of new art."’ These events certainly boosted not only Sprinchorn's career but also his confidence. In 1907, he became the manager of the Robert Henri School of Art, an arrangement which permitted him to continue to work closely with his mentor while also affording him freedom from his former student status. He also continued his chores at the boarding house but was now given free meals, thus immensely improving his physical condition. He grew husky and more handsome with this new-found physical and mental well-being. A photograph of a group from the Henri School at around this time shows him blond and muscular in shirt sleeves while the others are dressed in formal coat and tie. Henri's striking portrait of his student (cat. no. 2), done in 1910, shows a broad-shouldered young man with a look of fierce determination on his handsome features. Henri taught Sprinchorn to look at the life of the city around him and to draw his art from it. Sprinchorn had a steady temperament and believed in hard work, so he applied himself vigorously to his art. His paintings from this early period express a painterly determination with heavily-laden brush strokes applied to the canvas quickly and with confidence. His palette is muted and harmonious while his compositions, belying the spontaneous look of the finished work, are formally structured. Unfortunately, due to his reclusive nature and, later, his almost complete withdrawal from the business end of the art world, few of these early canvases have been located and many may only exist in yellowed, black and white reproductions. Happily, A Winter Scene on the East Side, New York (cat. no. 1), the painting which caused the uproar in 1907 and is therefore best suited to represent this period, is still extant and was available for this exhibition. Sprinchorn left the Henri School and New York in 1910 to travel for about five years. During this time, he made the obligatory trip to Paris, once in 1910-11 and once in 1914. During the latter visit, he attended drawing classes at the Ecole Colarossi, but did not study with any one master. Lilac Time, Versailles (cat. no. 3) shows the still painterly technique and subdued palette. The small format and brushy execution indicates a sketch made in-situ. From 1912-1914, Sprinchorn was an instructor at the Art League of Los Angeles. Although not much is known about his stay in California, he must have maintained strong ties with New York because in 1913 he was represented by four pieces in the well-known International Armory Show of that year. Other exhibitions in which he participated during these years include the Exhibit of Independent Artists, arranged by' Arthur B. Davis (who also coordinated the American entries in the Armory Show of 1913); the Pennsylvania Academy' annuals; and the Panama Exposition in San Francisco and San Diego. Sprinchorn returned to California in 1944 when he painted there with Marsden Hartley and Rex Slinkard. It was during this later visit that he produced Tangerines on Bough — California (cat. no. 30) and White Dahlias (cat. no. 31). Sprinchorn's first one-man show was not until 1916 when George Hellman mounted an exhibition of drawings at 366 Fifth Avenue. These included mainly figure studies, distinctly' Parisian in character — young, elegantly dressed women in cafe settings and at the opera. These light, witty, ink drawings differ vastly from the "ash can" realism of his earlier, Henri-inspired city-scapes, yet they have the same ability to get to the heart of the side of life they depict. They also reflect the sureness of execution of the earlier work. Hellman wrote that "the quality of line shown by Mr. Sprinchorn in his drawings is an achievement rarely met with . . . there is manifest that swift interpretive genius (so difficult of definition) in which resides the wonder of original drawings.''10 For a later exhibition which included both watercolors and drawings, Sprinchorn's close friend and fellow artist, Marsden Hartley, wrote: "In these drawings of Sprinchorn, you find always genuine elegance of feeling — true perception of appearances, perfect knowledge of gesture. He invests his male figures with thoroughly masculine life — and his female figures are radiant with feminine vanity. Sprinchorn's insatiable thirst for the kaleidoscopic vividness of life provides his vivid and voluminous results. He is among the masters, I believe, as to his understanding of appearances of life, which for the real artist is life itself."” A delightful example relating to this era is Sprinchorn’s Three Figures (cat. no. 5) in which the haute couture of the ladies' demeanor is captured by a fluid background wash accented by scant details to the interior of the figures. The crisp profile of the equally elegantly dressed gentleman bears more than a chance resemblance to Q 8 �1IUWCVC1, Uldc opi 1X1C1LU111 navi uu/wu New York art world. In one such letter, she reported that Duchamp had returned to New York "no longer so good looking but as sweet and agreeable as ever," and that "Stieglitz was very ill but recovered enough to be talking eight hours a day at his gallery."’2 Sprinchorn reproduced a miniature of his painting Nijinsky and Pavlova (the large original is now in the collection of the ----- many of the European modernists, as his alignment wit the Henri School might indicate. In later years he composed humorous jingles about some of the leading painters of that time. He had tremendous respect for Van Gogh, but found the artist's popularity among new cultural elite to be hypocritical. He wrote: '9. Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun, 1920 Oil on canvas Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman �I suffer agonies when viewing Van Gogh... van gogk in his role of Hollywood Cultural Prop - . .■ Cultural Prop; "Potato Eaters on Miracle Mile., Woman of Arles at Sunset and Vine?! What a crop - - ■ what a crop! He disliked 'Miro (a cheap, modernist interior decorator14'1. Paul Klee, and Piet Modrian. He felt Picasso to be the greatest of ail modem painters, although he considered Braque a painter of bric-a-brac. Chaim Soutine was a favorite artist whose work he had encountered in Paris, and Henri Matisse was a painter who revives me and sets me at peace, but he could not tolerate Paul Gauguin. Between the years 1910 and 1931, Sprinchorn made . several lencthy trips away from New fork, seemingly m search of an environment which would provide for him the inspiration that the city provided for Henri and ethers. In 1925 he began a two-year stay in Santo Dommgo ■.■••here he painted such exotic canvases as Still 2;-.- mt.*': --’c.:.* c’t.t Parrot 'cat. no. 15 . Sprinchorn was sensitive about the brilliant use of color in this and other -..-;rks from his tropical period. When the canvas was civer :? me High Museum in 1955, through the estate of M.ss Ettie Stettheimer 'who had purchased it at the Rehn Gaber. 2-27 Sprinchorn made a point of estzrusring austerity as the undedying quality of the wcr.-. While other works from this period, including Ou-CLandscape (cat. no. 14), retain the farmed palette cf his earlier work, the subject matter arc rr epical brilliance of Still Life with Fruit and Parrot ::. -c Srrir.tr.tm s instinctive feeling for color to oeccme a ma:cr compositional element. In later work, be released from both the confines of form Mari den Hartley once referred to Sprinchorn as one of ■/. tw. r rrrar.tldsts in Henri s coterie of realists.16 ; search. for a visual stimulus which would ‘-'r’rr re.ease of his romantic impulses in Hem's realist directive finally found sc.ut;cr. ■.-.rec r.e discovered Maine. Here, as one critic is to confront subjects more in m inner nature, his Scandinavian arc mere; r/.rthern heritage, and his wholesome beuet in the uncomplicated goodness of a simple life J . ” ■' ■■ ■■■'of Maine briefly in ' -7 : • - ■ : ■■■<--) by a friend of his s 10 m inland village of Monson where a 7 ■■■ ' - of Maine ,hanand the 1922 c°as‘that -sti!|he- h was not until the years between 1917 returned for several months at a tune, working in the lumber camps and sawmills to get a feel for the lumberman’s rugged way of life — and painting. Sprinchorn's love of Maine was shared by his friend f almost thirty years, Marsden Hartley. The two met ln * 1016 on the occasion of Sprinchorn's first one-man show at the George Hellman Gallery. They were introduced by Hartley's friend and sponsor, Alfred Stieglitz, and as Sprinchorn later recalled, "with our respective art circles of the time being, at least supposedly, rather 'distant in spirit — his the '291' group and mine the Henri crowd and each eyeing the other askance — we might never have met again . . ."1S However, they did meet again during the summer of the same year in Provincetown where informal gatherings at the residences of various artists stimulated a freer exchange of ideas. Hartley's and Sprinchorn's friendship evolved not on the typical basis of frequent personal visits and long conversations, but rather through a monumental exchange of letters. Both men were publicly reserved about their own work, and as Sprinchorn noted, their friendship was based upon circumspection and a tacitly enjoined observance of each other's individual independence and privacy.19 They had very few mutual friends, and aside from three or four separate occasions, they were never together in the field. Neither did they discuss one another's work to any great extent. Instead, both ardently fond of writing, they maintained a faithful correspondence, describing with the candor of an individual addressing his diary their feelings on everything from the most banal day-to-day issues to their deepest feeling about art. Both men had profound ideas about their avocation, but both had grown weary of the art world and people who "talk art." Both enjoyed expressing their views in writing and were eloquently able to do so. Each had chosen to go off by himself to work uninterruptedly in near isolation, yet both were intellectually in need of a creative exchange or ideas. When Sprinchorn went through the file of letters from Hartley which he had saved after the latter s deat , he counted over two hundred, a number which he estimated to represent only five percent of those he ha received.20 Their shared love of Maine served as a great bon between the two men. Hartley's interest in the coast an Sprinchorn's interest in the interior caused them to jokingly claim "hands off" to each other's territories a to dub each other "King of the Coast" and "King o Woods," respectively. Hartley was born in Maine an had a deep-felt love of the ruggedness of the landsca^ and the corresponding rugged way of life. He admit Sprinchorn's physical endurance in the lumber and praised his desire to become a part of the li 1 wanted to paint. Hartley called his friend the Remington of Maine, and wrote that "when I look at these pictures, I see my native land pictured with such speaking accuracy that ... I glory in their vividness and veracity."21 Sprinchorn's first exhibition of the Maine paintings was held at the Marie Sterner Gallery in 1922. In the essay which accompanied the exhibition, Dr. Christian Brinton called Sprinchorn a "modern mystic."22 Sprinchorn later responded to this by saying: I have been called a "mystic." I think I have a pantheistic spirit towards nature that prevents mere copying of nature. I have never been successful in copying nature, however sincerely. I soon get tired. Rather, I like to select and interpret nature, after living close to the sources of nature. At the same time, I have my feet on the ground.23 Two paintings from the "Borealis" series, Snow Winged Horses (cat. no. 11) and Landscape with Horses, (The Fear Forest) (cat. no. 13), were exhibited in 1922 and are included here. Certainly these canvases were meant to express the spirit of the north woods. Cool blue, white, and grey shapes indicate snow-laden trees, while the main figures are statuesque, fantasy-like horses infinitely at home in the frozen splendor of the forest. These creatures were no doubt inspired by the powerful animals used for pulling the huge sleds of logs out of the woods to the lumber camps. The interjection of a human figure in Snow Winged Horses suggests man's struggle to overcome the superiority of nature or to at least live in harmony with it. Spiritual and sensual at once, these compositions are fully expressive of the real world which inspired them, yet they are removed from mere physical description. The hush of the forest primeval is here disturbed by the presence of man's attempt to harness its primitive power. The New York critics greeted Sprinchorn's show at Marie Sterner's gallery with ardent enthusiasm, praising this new exponent of the "modern school."24 Henry McBride summed up Sprinchorn's appeal by saying, "(he) is plastic and abstract; not so abstract to prevent you from knowing all that is going on . . . (but) it is not necessary to know all, only the essential.''25 However, when a similar exhibition was mounted at the Worchester (Massachusetts) Museum that same year, it was met with mixed reviews. An anonymous critic, who signed his review simply "Interested," wrote that "we are convinced that Mr. Sprinchorn is playing a practical joke on us common mortals. . . ." He went on to exclaim, "How any artist can, in these times of high cost of paint, waste several tubes of good bright color on such a picture as 'Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun,' seems inconceivable."26 Yet he later admits that the painting does stir the imagination. Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun, 1920 (cat. no. 9), with its abstract background a prism of brilliant, warm color, does indeed evoke the emotion felt when striding toward a clear, crisp Northern sunrise. The anatomy of the woodsman has been broken down into simplified geometric shapes, similar to those of the background, again illustrating Sprinchorn's ability to describe the essence of a situation without being bound to the specifics. The same critic found Sprinchorn's The Blue Ice Forest, 1920-21 (cat. no. 10) to be "charming and graceful," rather odd adjectives to describe a painting of such cold, uncanny power. Here the menacing forms of the forest seem to overwhelm, thwarting the figure of a hunter who plods his way through the trees on snowshoes. Perhaps this was the painting the artist was working on when he wrote the following to Ettie Stettheimer: "I wish you could have seen ... it rained icy stuff all night, everything was like glass in the morning — the trees loaded to the breaking point, and they did break — all day it sounded as if tigers and elephants were crashing through the woods, snapping crackling as if guns . . . and the weirdly beautiful removed look of it all —! A little glass world shut in by a gray smoke coloured mist ... the bewitched effect . . . truly marvelous —"27 He found friends in a small community called Shin Pond (two houses and some summer camps with a post office a mile and a half down the road) who let him have a room and a studio for the price of one room, although the studio had to be given up when a "paying" customer arrived. Comer of the Studio — Shin Pond, Maine, 1946 (cat. no. 34) shows the cramped quarters littered with everything from apples to snowshoes. His precarious finances required frequent trips to New York to "attend to business." These trips became increasingly frustrating as Sprinchorn became more jealous of time spent away from his beloved forests. More and more he began to learn to make-do, depending on the support of a small but dedicated group of supporters. Sprinchorn was deeply affected by the death, in 1929, of his teacher, Robert Henri. At the same time, his mother became ill and Sprinchorn went to attend to her in Sweden. During this visit, he produced sensitive watercolors which portrayed, in an almost conventional manner, the soft pastel landscapes of his native country (cat. nos. *17 and *16). When he returned to New York in 1931. he faced the Depression. After several money­ making proposals fell through (including a brief stint as 13 ■ i i ■ �I I suffer agonies when viewing 1 an Gogh... van gogk in his role of Hollywood Cultural Prop . . .• Cultural Prop: Potato Eaters on Miracle Mile? "Woman of .Arles' at Sunset and Vine?! What a crop . - ■ what a crop!He disliked Miro ta cheap, modernist interior decorator14' Paul Klee, and Piet Modrian. He felt Picasso to be the greatest of all modem painters, althoueh he considered Braque a painter of ' bric-a-brac. Chaim Soutine was a favorite artist whose work he had encountered in Fans, and Henri Matisse was a rai-ter who revives me and sets me at peace but he could not tolerate Paul Gauguin. Between the years 1910 and 1931. Sprinchorn made several lengthy trips away from New Y ork. seemingly in search of an environment which would provide for him the inspiration that the city provided for Henri and others.'In 1925. he began a two-year stay in Santo Domingo where he nainted such exotic canvases as Still Li*e Fruit mtd Parrot (cat. no. 15). Sprinchorn was sensitive about the brilliant use or color in this and other works from his tropical period. When the canvas was given to the High Museum in 1955, through the estate of Miss Ettie Eteitheimer who had purchased it at the Rehn Gallery in 19Z7 Sprinchorn made a point of establishing austerity as the underlying quality of the work.- While ether works from this period, including Santo Domingo Landscape (cat. no. 141, retain the subdued palette of his earlier work, the subject matter and tropical brilliance of Still Life with Fruit and Parrot allowed Sprinchorn s instinctive feeling for color to become a major compositional element. In later work, color would be released from both the confines of form and the dictations of nature. Marsden Hartley once referred to Sprinchorn as one of only two romanticists in Henri's coterie of realists.Sprmchom s search for a visual stimulus which would allow for the release of his romantic impulses in harmony with Henr: s realist directive finally found resolution when he discovered Maine. Here, as one critic has noted, the artist was to confront subjects more in consonance with his own inner nature, his Scandinavian and therefore northern heritage, and his wholesome belief in the uncomplicated goodness of a simple life close to nature.17 Sprinchorn first visited the coast of Maine briefly in 1907 Four years later, he was invited by a friend of his mothers to stay in the inland village of Monson where a contingent of Swedes had settled The forests of Maine seemed to impress him more than the coast. Still it was not until the years between 1917 and 1922 that he returned for several months at a time, working in the lumber camps and sawmills to get a feel for the lumberman's rugged way of life — and painting. Sprinchorn's love of Maine was shared by his friend of almost thirty years, Marsden Hartley. The two met m 1916 on the occasion of Sprinchorn's first one-man show at the George Hellman Gallery. They were introduced by Hartley's friend and sponsor, Alfred Stieglitz, and as Sprinchorn later recalled, "with our respective art circles of the time being, at least supposedly, rather 'distant' in spirit — his the '291' group and mine the Henri crowd and each eyeing the other askance — we might never have met again . . ,"18 However, they did meet again during the summer of the same year in Provincetown where informal gatherings at the residences of various artists stimulated a freer exchange of ideas. Hartley's and Sprinchorn's friendship evolved not on the typical basis of frequent personal visits and long conversations, but rather through a monumental exchange of letters. Both men were publicly reserved about their own work, and as Sprinchorn noted, their friendship was based upon circumspection and a tacitly enjoined observance of each other's individual independence and privacy.19 They had very few mutual friends, and aside from three or four separate occasions, they were never together in the field. Neither did they discuss one another's work to any great extent. Instead, both ardently fond of writing, they maintained a faithful correspondence, describing with the candor of an individual addressing his diary their feelings on everything from the most banal day-to-day issues to their deepest feeling about art. Both men had profound ideas about their avocation, but both had grown weary of the art world and people who "talk art." Both enjoyed expressing their views in writing and were eloquently able to do so. Each had chosen to go off by himself to work uninterruptedly in near isolation, yet both were intellectually in need of a creative exchange of ideas. When Sprinchorn went through the file of letters from Hartley which he had saved after the latter s death, he counted over two hundred, a number which he estimated to represent only five percent of those he ha received.20 Their shared love of Maine served as a great bond between the two men. Hartley's interest in the coast an Sprinchorn's interest in the interior caused them to jokingly claim "hands off" to each other's territories an to dub each other "King of the Coast" and "King of the Woods," respectively. Hartley was born in Maine an had a deep-felt love of the ruggedness of the landscape and the corresponding rugged way of life. He admire Sprinchorn's physical endurance in the lumber campand praised his desire to become a part of the life e wanted to paint. Hartley called his friend the Remington of Maine, and wrote that "when I look at these pictures, I see my native land pictured with such speaking accuracy that ... I glory in their vividness and veracity."21 Sprinchorn's first exhibition of the Maine paintings was held at the Marie Sterner Gallery in 1922. In the essay which accompanied the exhibition, Dr. Christian Brinton called Sprinchorn a "modern mystic."22 Sprinchorn later responded to this by saying: I have been called a "mystic." I think I have a pantheistic spirit towards nature that prevents mere copying of nature. I have never been successful in copying nature, however sincerely. I soon get tired. Rather, I like to select and interpret nature, after living close to the sources of nature. At the same time, I have my feet on the ground.23 Two paintings from the "Borealis" series. Snow Winged Horses (cat. no. 11) and Landscape with Horses, (The Fear Forest) (cat. no. 13), were exhibited in 1922 and are included here. Certainly these canvases were meant to express the spirit of the north woods. Cool blue, white, and grey shapes indicate snow-laden trees, while the main figures are statuesque, fantasy-like horses infinitely at home in the frozen splendor of the forest. These creatures were no doubt inspired by the powerful animals used for pulling the huge sleds of logs out of the woods to the lumber camps. The interjection of a human figure in Snow Winged Horses suggests man's struggle to overcome the superiority of nature or to at least live in harmony with it. Spiritual and sensual at once, these compositions are fully expressive of the real world which inspired them, yet they are removed from mere physical description. The hush of the forest primeval is here disturbed by the presence of man's attempt to harness its primitive power. The New York critics greeted Sprinchorn's show at Marie Sterner's gallery with ardent enthusiasm, praising this new exponent of the "modern school."24 Henry McBride summed up Sprinchorn's appeal by saying, "(he) is plastic and abstract; not so abstract to prevent you from knowing all that is going on . . . (but) it is not necessary to know all, only the essential."25 However, when a similar exhibition was mounted at the Worchester (Massachusetts) Museum that same year, it was met with mixed reviews. An anonymous critic, who signed his review simply "Interested," wrote that "we are convinced that Mr. Sprinchorn is playing a practical joke on us common mortals. . . He went on to exclaim, "How any artist can, in these times of high cost of paint, waste several tubes of good bright color on such a picture as 'Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun,' seems inconceivable."26 Yet he later admits that the painting does stir the imagination. Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun, 1920 (cat. no. 9), with its abstract background a prism of brilliant, warm color, does indeed evoke the emotion felt when striding toward a clear, crisp Northern sunrise. The anatomy of the woodsman has been broken down into simplified geometric shapes, similar to those of the background, again illustrating Sprinchorn's ability to describe the essence of a situation without being bound to the specifics. The same critic found Sprinchorn's The Blue Ice Forest, 1920-21 (cat. no. 10) to be "charming and graceful," rather odd adjectives to describe a painting of such cold, uncanny power. Here the menacing forms of the forest seem to overwhelm, thwarting the figure of a hunter who plods his way through the trees on snowshoes. Perhaps this was the painting the artist was working on when he wrote the following to Ettie Stettheimer: "I wish you could have seen ... it rained icy stuff all night, everything was like glass in the morning — the trees loaded to the breaking point, and they did break — all day it sounded as if tigers and elephants were crashing through the woods, snapping crackling as if guns . . . and the weirdly beautiful removed look of it all — I A little glass world shut in by a gray smoke coloured mist . . . the bewitched effect . . . truly marvelous —"27 He found friends in a small community called Shin Pond (two houses and some summer camps with a post office a mile and a half down the road) who let him have a room and a studio for the price of one room, although the studio had to be given up when a "paying" customer arrived. Comer of the Studio — Shin Pond. Maine, 1946 (cat. no. 34) shows the cramped quarters littered with everything from apples to snowshoes. His precarious finances required frequent trips to New York to "attend to business." These trips became increasingly frustrating as Sprinchorn became more jealous of time spent away from his beloved forests. More and more he began to learn to make-do, depending on the support of a small but dedicated group of supporters. Sprinchorn was deeply affected by the death, in 1929, of his teacher, Robert Henri. At the same time, his mother became ill and Sprinchorn went to attend to her in Sweden. During this visit, he produced sensitive watercolors which portrayed, in an almost conventional manner, the soft pastel landscapes of his native country (cat. nos. *17 and *16). When he returned to New York in 1931, he faced the Depression. After several money­ making proposals fell through (including a brief stint as 13 i; ■ r i �10 22. Above Shin Brook Falls — Maine, 1940 Oil on board Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis e S-'-t lie Forest, 1=23-21 02 on linen Collection ot Mr. ar.d Mrs. Arnold Rifkin on the infant who reaches toward the others Jrom the blanketed comfort of her sleigh/cradle/bed. The faces of the are caricatures, though not in the negative context c—itext • -* or - trie 1 jftened by the word, and the roughness of this world is sol of the guitar presence of music and literature in the form----- _ and the book of the two young men. Sprinchorn used a an artist for the WPA), Sprinchorn returned, in the late 1930s. to the healing sclidude of the Maine woods. Sprinchorn's later paintings of Maine are much less symbolic in nature than those produced in the early twenties. Perhaps as a result of his recent hardships, the realist imperative is re-introduced to these later paintings. Woodcutter's Evening — Maine, 1943 (cat. no. 28) is a masterpiece of genre painting from this later era. One of Sprinchorn's most ambitious figural compositions, this canvas shows a family of seven gathered in their small one-room cabin after the day's labor. Logs are neatly stacked by the stove over which the laundry has been hung to dr>’. A long, crude table is pushed to one side of the room and bunk beds line one wall. Economy and utility are everywhere present. Through the family unit, the ages of man are represented with attention focused surprisingly vivid palette, highlighting the dusk of evening with spots of blue, green, red, and yellow. e viewer feels welcomed to share the warm comfort o contented domesticity which is clearly the painting s subject. I wo crayon studies (cat. nos.. 26a 26a and and 27), 27), with wi the latter especially relating to Woodcutter's Evening - Maine, show the agility and strengl■th of Sprinchorn's talent as a draftsman. Similarly, Lumberjack (cat. no. 21), a gauche study from captures the men at work, their silhouetted bodies which he would later translate to canvas in his studio. In letters to a friend, he wrote of the frustratingly short duration of autumn during which time he worked in an outdoor lean-to which served as a studio. Working quickly to capture as much as he could of the all-tooephemeral colors of the season, he recalled the advancing chill of winter which would cause his watercolors to freeze before he could apply them to the paper. As noted, Sprinchorn could also "rearrange" nature in order to emphasize a symbolic point. Such is the case in The Spectator — Shin Pond, 1947 (cat. no. 37). When the painting was included in the Corcoran Gallery of Art Biennial in 1951, Sprinchorn wrote about the work. He explained that it represented two states of mind — the first, as demonstrated by the unbroken row of trees blocking the Spectator's line of vision, is closed-in and quickly mapped out with the strong, dark outlines of the crayon sketch later filled in with fauvist washes of color, At the same time that he was creating these realistinspired documents of Maine, Sprinchorn was also ---------1:----------------- : _1—.------ . :---------------- Cull ..I*.—.!.. creating semi-abstract images. Still clearly readas landscape, the tightly controlled abstracted rhythms of Above Shin Brook Falls — Maine, 1940 (cat. no. 22), mimic the turbulence of rushing water, while The Blizzard (Shin Pond, Maine), 1941 (cat. no. 25), is an expressionistic reverie to the force of an ice-blue winter storm. Although these works, and Sprinchorn's studies of lumberjacks, may at first seem to be uncomfortably diverse in style, they are united by the single goal of remaining faithful to the subject without being dominated by it. Sprinchorn's fidelity to the evocations of nature was due to the many elaborate sketches made on the spot 15 14 �. Checklist of the Exhibition NOTES confining — the second, represented by the panorami view is broad and focused outward.-’ The painting can be interpreted as a philosophical self-portrait ot the 1. Application Applkatic for Guggenheim fellowship (1941), Special Colle ‘ons Department, Folger Library, University of Maine at Orono (hereafter referred to as UMO). 2. Untitled Manuscript (1949). UMO. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid. Arthur Cederquist was the young man from Minnesota. 5. Ibid. o. Henri's charismatic lecture style is reflected in his book The Art Spirit, compiled by Margery Ryerson (J. B. Lippincott Company, In the mid-fifties. Sprinchom suffered the first <of a series of strokes which were to eventually limit his artistic productivity. Showing his strength of will and determination in the face of physical disability. Sprinchom overcame the semi-paralysis which affected his painting and writing. Forced to move to a less strenuous climate and closer to family, he took up residence in a small house on the farm belonging to his sister and his niece in Selkirk, New York (near Albany). There he painted such light-filled, impressionistic canvases as Daisy Fields and Clouds, 1950 (cat. no. 44); and floral still iifes, a subject he loved all his life, such as Autumn Bouquet, c. 1957 (cat. no. 531, reminiscent of Van Gogh's similar passion for flowers. Each year Sprinchom would also record the small house on his sister's farm. House in Selkirk, NY, 1961 (cat. no. *57), a sketch made by cross-hatching brightly colored marks of the crayon, was the last of this series although Sprinchom did not die until 1971. Sprinchom followed with interest the events of the New York art -world even when he had expressed distaste for their shallowness and even when his health prevented him from making an occasional trip there. In 1961, he wrote to the American Federation of Arts to protest the ‘ mass dissemination of theoretic art forms appearing continuously in your 'Art in America Magazine' ' which he felt discouraged the artist of "individual persuasions."3’ An artist of sensitivity and intellect, his ideals concerning art never dimmed. In 1970 his friend and fellow artist, Rockwell Kent, wrote to him to say hew wonderful it was that Sprinchom had completely vindicated Robert Henri's staunch belief in him." Sprinchorn found his muse in the wooded landscapes of Maine. Ironically, it was this discovery that also led to his eclipse in the art market as he became increasingly unwilling to spend time on galleries and exhibitions. When the MacBeth Gallery closed its doors in 1953, Sprinchom considered other galleries but never followed through in finding one to represent him. Today, with current interest mounting in the work of Robert Henri, "The Eight," and their followers, this seems an auspicious moment to present an exhibition of the work of Carl Sprinchorn, who had the privilege to be singled out among those followers as an artist of creative genius whose contributions would someday leave a mark upon the development of American art. 7. op. cit. UMO. (Note 1.) 8. Ibid. 9. "The Lounger'' Column, Putnam's Monthly & The Reader, V (December 1908). 10. George S. Hellman, "The Drawings of Carl Sprinchorn," exhibition catalog 1916. 11. Excerpt for unknown exhibition catalog (1937) reprinted for a catalog by the Passedoit Gallery in 1954. 12. Letter from Ettie Stettheimer to Sprinchom in Santo Domingo, December 15, 1926. UMO. 13. Carl Sprinchorn, A Painter's Plaint, undated manuscript. UMO. 14. Undated letter from Carl Sprinchom to Florence Dreyfous. UMO. 15. Letter from Carl Sprinchom to Mr. Reginald Poland (then Director of the High Museum), July 19, 1955. UMO. 16. Introduction to an exhibition of paintings at the MacBeth Gallery in 1943. The other romanticist Hartley was referring to was Rex Slinkard, also a close friend of Sprinchom's. 17. Essay by Christian Brinton for an exhibition of Sprinchom's work at the Marie Sterner Gallery in 1922. 18. Letter to Hilton Kramer, 1958. UMO. 19. Ibid. 20. Hartley's letters to Sprinchom have since been deposited at Yale University. 21. Marsden Hartley, "The New Paintings of Carl Sprinchom of the Maine Woods," 1943. Hartley wrote this and two other manuscripts about Sprinchom's work. The others are: "Sprinchorn Today," 1942, America Swedish Historical Museum; and, "The Drawings of Carl Sprinchorn," from The Spangle of Existence, an unpublished manuscript. Museum of Modem Art (library). 22. op. cit. Brinton. 23. op. cit. manuscript of 1949. UMO. 24. Kenneth Burke, "The Art of Carl Sprinchorn," The Arts, December 1921. (Burke saw the paintings prior to their exhibition in the spring of 1922.) 25. Henry McBride writing for the New York Herald, February'12, 1922. Reprinted in an exhibition catalog for a one-man exhibi io the works by Sprinchorn at The Arts Club of Chicago, March . 26. Clipping file UMO. "Sprinchom Stirs the Heart: Trouble is He Stirs It In Too Many Directions," Worchester (Mass.) Daily Telegram, dated 1922 in the artist's handwriting. 27. Letter from Carl Sprinchorn to Ettie Stettheimer in December from Monson, Maine. UMO, 28. Undated letters to Josephine Hopper, UMO. 29. Letter from Carl Sprinchorn to Henry B. Caldwell, then assistant director of the Corcoran (March 27, 1931). 30. April 8, 1961, UMO, He also cancelled his subscription to News which he felt to be a handsome facade with no,c?^nnJ continued to take Arts because it took the controversial su 31. Postcard dated 9-25-70 from Rockwell Kent to Carl Sprinchor . UMO. i I 1. A Winter Scene on the East Side, New York, 1906 Oil on canvas, 30 x 40 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Sigmund M. Hyman x9. Woodsman Greets the Rising Sun, 1920 Oil on canvas, 28% x 22y„ Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinch orn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman ’17. House in Sweden (Summer), 1931 Watercolor, 14 x 21 (sight) Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 2. Robert Henri (1865-1929) Portrait of Carl Sprinchorn, 1910 Oil on canvas, 24 x 20 Gift of Anna Sprinchorn Johnson, 76.43 Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University 10. The Blue Ice Forest, 1920-21 Oil on linen, 36 x 40 Signed 1.1. C. Sp. Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Rifkin 118. The Diver, c. 1934 Watercolor, 18 x 12 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Julian Long 11. Snow Winged Horses, 1921 Oil on canvas, 36 x 38 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchon■n The Phillips Collection Washington, D.C. 19. Central Park, 1935 Oil on board, 9 x 13 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 12. Boreal Pageant (Monson, Maine), 1921 Oil on canvas, 36 x 48 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Estate of Carl Sprinchorn 20. Sunflowers and Tritoma, 1935 Oil on composition board, 24 x 20 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Gift of Miss Edith Wetmore Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design 3. Lilac Time — Versailles, 1914 Oil on board, 10 x 14 Signed 1.1 C. Sp. Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Julian Long 4. Woman in Evening Gown, c. 1916 Watercolor on paper, 16 x lO’/z Signed u.r. Carl Sprinchorn The Brooklyn Museum Gift of Miss Ettie Stettheimer 5. Three Figures, c. 1916 Watercolor on paper, 12»/16 x 14% Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn The Brooklyn Museum Gift of Miss Ettie Stettheimer 6. The Singer, c. 1916 Ink on paper, 10‘A x 16 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 7, Flowers, c. 1916 Watercolor on paper, 18% x 12% Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn The Brooklyn Museum Gift of Alfred W. Jenkins *8. Flowers at Evening, 1919 Pastel, 2614 x Ih'/i (sight) Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 13. Landscape With Horses, (The Fear Forest), 1921 Oil on canvas, 25 x 36 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono ’14. Santo Domingo Landscape, 1926 Oil on canvas, 25 x 30 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 15. Still Life with Fruit and Parrot, 1926 Oil on canvas, 29% x 25 Signed u.l. Carl Sprinchom Gift of the artist High Museum of Art, Atlanta, Georgia ’16. Red Barn — Snowy Vistas (Sweden), 1931 Watercolor, 14% x 20% (sight) Unsigned Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 17 16 21. Lumberjacks, 1937 Mixed media on brown paper, 9 x 12 (sight) Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection Ripley Art Works, Ripley, Ohio 22. Above Shin Brook Falls — Maine, 1940 Oil on board, 12 x 16 Signed 1.1. Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 23. Before Edison — Shin Pond, Maine, 1940 Oil on board, 28 x 16 Signed on back University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono 24. Seascape, c. 1940 Watercolor, 14’4 x 21 Vi (sight) Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Mr. Ben Pedigo h ! �I 25. The Blizzard tShit: Pond. Maine). 1941 Oil on canvas. 21 x 29 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Private collection 26a. Lumberack Study for Woodcutters Evening >, 1941 Crayon drawing. 9% x 11% (sight' Signed 1J. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of -•-r. and Mrs. Arnold Rifkin t(b>. Verso Lumberjack. Study for Woodcutters Evening ’) Crayon drawing, S’. x 11% 'sight? Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn 27. Young Lumberjack. (Study for Woodcutters Evening’), 1941 Crayon drawing, 6 x 12 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 28. Woodcutters Evening — Maine, 1943 Oil on canvas, 21 x 32 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Cc..ection. of Robert F. and Patricia Ross W’eis *29. Tiger Pitch, c. 1943 Oil on canvas, 271 x 33'A Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 30. Tangerines on Baugh — California, 1944 Oil on board, 8’/« x 12‘A Signed 1.1. C. Sp. Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 31. White Dahlias, 1944 Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F, and Patricia Ross Weis *32.L«g«naBe«UI.SoHth 1945^ . 15'4. (sight) Oil on board, 11 ■'« XU . „ Signed l.r. C- Sp. Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman *33. Autumn Glory. 1946 Oil on canvas, 20'4 x 2414 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 34. Comer of Studio — Shin Pond, Maine. 1946 Oil on board, 16 x 193A Signed l.r. Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 35. Red Hat. Blue Hat, 1946 Oil on board, 18% x 24% Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn University’ Art Collection University of Maine at Orono 36. Stormy October Sunset, c. 1946 Oil on board, 19 x 23'A (sight) Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn University’ Art Collection University of Maine at Orono 37. The Spectator — Shin Pond, Maine, 1947 Oil on canvas, 28'A x 34'A Signed 1.1. C. Sprinchorn University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono 38. Shin Pond Outlet — Maine 1948 Oil on board, 12 x 6 Signed 1.1. C. Sp. Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 39. Logs in Lumber Camp, 1948 Crayon on paper, 13% x 17% Signed l.r. C. Sp. Collection of Robert F. and 1 atricia Ross Weis 40. Snowy Branches, 1948 Crayon on paper, 16 v, : Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchix 13>/2 torn University Art Collilection University of Maine at Orono *41. Whetstone Falls — The Penobscot, 1949 Oil on canvas, 21%, x 32% Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 42. Apple Blossoms, 1949 Oil on canvas, 28 x 34 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Estate of Carl Sprinchorn 43. Open Water — Maine, 1949 Watercolor, 19 x 25'/z Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 44. Daisy Fields and Clouds, 1950 Oil on canvas, 21% x 29% Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Rifkin *49. Daisy Fields, Crommett Farm, c. 1950 Oil on canvas, 21% x 29 Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 50. Apples on a Bam Floor, c 1950 Oil on canvas, 25 x 30 Unsigned Estate of Carl Sprinchorn 51. The River—Winter Stilled, 1951 Charcoal and Chinese White on French Grey Charcoal Paper Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 52. Crooked Tree — Shin Pond, Maine, 1951 Oil on board, 12 x 18 Signed 1.1. C. Sp. Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 53. Autumn Bouquet, c. 1957 Oil on board, 233A x 193A Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono t54. My Early Backyard — The Old House, Selkirk, 1958 Oil on canvas, 24 x 30 Unsigned Estate of Carl Sprinchorn (55. Landscape — Shin Pond, 1958 Pastel, 9'/z x 14'A Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Julian Long T56. Landscape — Shin Pond, 1958 Pastel 14'A x 9'/z Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Julian Long 45. Landscape with Hawkweed, 1950 Oil on board, 20 x 24 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono 46. Open Season on Birds — Shin Pond, Maine, 1950 Oil on canvas, 22 x 28 Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 1950 47. Evening Mists — Maine, Oil on board, 16 x 19% Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. an Patricia Ross Weis 48. Landscape, c. 1950 Watercolor, ll’/z x Signed 1.1. Carl Sprinchorn Collection of Robert F. an Patricia Ross Weis 19 *57. House in Selkirk, NY, 1961 Crayon on paper, 13'A x 16'A (sight) Signed l.r. Carl Sprinchorn for Frederica Beinert, July '61 Collection of Miss Frederica Beinert *58. A Bouquet for Kate, 1957, (finished 1971) Oil on canvas, 30%b x 25% Signed l.r. C. Sp. Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman All dimensions in inches, height precedes width. ‘Included in the exhibition at the Sordoni Art Gallery only. TNot illustrated. 1 ��4. Woman in Evening (7/:. n. C. 1916 Watercolor on paper The Brooklyn Mutjdi Gift of Miss Ettie StettK-irr.tr I ��L£. 6. T/ie Singer, c. 1916 Ink on paper Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 23 �■i i Flowers, c. 1916 Watercolor on paper The Brooklyn Museum Gift of Alfred W. Jenkins 24 �»4 1 *8. Flowers at r ;:r.< 191^ Paste! Collection of Mis- Kati-r,n Freeman ■ �I • I ■ I 2o ��Boreal Pageant (Monson. Maine t, ]Q21 Chi on canvas Estate of Carl Sprinchorn 11. Snow Winged Horses, 1921 Oil on canvas The Phillips Collection Washington, D.C. 28 ���... - 37. ['hr S;’t\ tiikn >7wi 7‘iwjJ Maine 1947 Oil on einvas University Art < o|U\ tion University oi Maine .it l'iono �14. rj,»r<inv--- iio.JN2t> Oil on canvas Collection of Mi.s Kathryn Freeman �14. Santo Domingo Landscape, 1926 Oil on canvas Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 33 �38. Shin Pond Outlet — Maine, 1948 Oil on board Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis 42. Apple Blossoms 1949 Oil on canvas Estate ot Carl Sprincborn 34 �Blossoms, 1949 Oil on canvas Estate of Carl Sprinch ��MB *16. Red Bam — Snowy Vistas (Sweden), 1931 Watercolor Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman 1 f F *17. House in Sweden (Summer), 1931 Watercolor Collection of Miss Kathryn Freeman �43. Open ’.'.a.'fT' — ALj 1949 Watercckr CoHectien •/:■ Reber? F and Paine:J ?’■. • > »Ye- 44 I I ktr J / h M • an‘i ( :'■ 4</. 19S(J Oil on canv.i. ( oilection c,f Mr and Mr- Arnuid Kiri.r. �• | 44. Daisy Fields and Clouds, 1950 Oil on canvas Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Rifkin �i N K fr(. .«JS ? ‘ <>n - ■ r ..-I .• : - '■' •>. hz-’r. ^^.,rr Muwwr of Art. IJoM of rjw*r ��42 ���Lumberjack, (Study for Woodcutters Evening"), 1941 Crayon drawing Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Rifkin 1 27. Young Lumbeqack. (Study for "Woodcutters Evening"), 1941 Crayon drawing Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis �SO 29. . Pi:.-’c Oil er. canvas Collection cf NLss Kathryn Freeman Tangerines ,<n ~ California. 1944 Oil on hoard Collection of Robert F. and Patricia Ross Weis ��. 32 . - ■ . : - . - , Oi! or- heard C'. l.tc.. • ■’ M.’ Ka'hrv.^. F.-t«*rar A.,- lrr,,- jlJt€ Ct4i« tMlfK ,x k^..hry„ Frwtwr. I > �Autumn Glory, 1946 Oil on canvas Collection of Mi:s Kathryn Freeman �£ EL Shin Pond Maine. 1950 Oil on canvas Collection of Robert E and Paint ia Ross Weis ��i Ked Hut. Blur Hat, C 194b Od on board University Art Collechor. University of Maine al Orono �I |2- .y fix Blue Hat. c. 1946 03 a, beard feendy Art Collection taenity of Maine at Orono �52. board 54 �1 .. Ti>e Shin Pi,nd /-■ ,1951 / aboard . "'‘^olRr.bwtF, and •r'-« Pr..-, Wen. 55 J .____ �Logs in Lumber Camp. ]Q48 Crayon on paper Collection ot Robert F and Patricia Ross Weis 36. Stormy October Sunset, c. 1946 Oil on board University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono L5o �A* �I a> V 4 > / */y I 4 < A -I*-** 40 Snowy Blanche-;. 1948 Crayon on paper Umvmity Ari CollKtion Univmity ..f Mamr at Orono 58 ’41. Whetstone Fulls The Penobscot, 1949 Oil on canvas Collection ot Miss Kathryn Freeman ��- - *4<? Da;;> c. 1»5C O>l on «r » Coi M: (CM* �45. Landscape with Hawkweed Oil on board University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono *49. Daisy Fields. Cromniett Fa'1 c. 1950 OH on canvas Collection ot Miss Kathryn Freeman 50. Apple*. on a Bam Floor, c. 1950 Oil un canvas Estate of Carl Spnnchorn �Autumn Bouquet, c. 1957 Oil fin board University Art Collection University of Maine at Orono ���i i I ■■1 Ii ‘' I : c �; ' '.. . -- ~~g J- e /. ; ;■< ■-■. ■ ' • i > 3 "■ ■ / I—c-';. ’ : 17; ; ----- Ifc-WSlS I 35 '5-J -; -3^^; ?: 7 *_"■ 77 -■' - --' . „■-. /. :I •.: 7 "■ � https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/e41ac08670090d0cd61b90f601be5659.pdf fa90328cb4ab0ff2e4f949bdc3371c67 PDF Text Text ����������������������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1983 November 13 Carl Sprinchorn: Realist Impulse and Romantic Vision Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Carl Sprinchorn Bernard B. Perlman Judith O'Toole Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1983 November 13 - December 30 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/06f98c225b504a3a1d55b106c89c1dc1.pdf f8bed8e988f3e5724b65d7a4217f77db PDF Text Text i i �J Harry Gottlieb The silkscreen and social concern in the WPA era organized by The Jane Voorhees Zimmerli Art Museum Rutgers-The State University of New Jersey with essays by Sheryl Conkelton and Gregory Gilbert EXHIBITION SCHEDULE The Jane Voorhees Zimmerli Art Museum Rutgers University, New Brunswick, New Jersey November 6 to December 31, 1983 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania January 8 to February 12, 1984 i t-S. FARLEY UBRAftY h'JfES UNIVERSITY I I W'ES-BARRE, PA I —-------—— _ cover: Change of Shift, c. 1940 (cat. 7) Copyright © 1983 by Rutgers University Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 83-82368 All rights reserved for all countries, including the right of translation. No part of this catalogue may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission of the publisher Manufactured in the United States of America By Microtone Corporation I hr Jane Voorhrrs Zintmrrli Art Museum is supported in pan by a giant from Johnson Johnson Fatmh ol Companies �Harry Gottlieb and the Development of Serigraphy Gregory Gilbert 1. Bootleg Mining, 1937, color lithograph, 14 x 18 1/8. The Syracuse University An Collections, (cat. 14) During the 1930s. a number of innovations in osior printmaking were developed under the aegis of the WPA's Federal Art Project. Encouraged by these technical strides, Project administrators organized a special unit in 1938 to experiment with silkscreen as a fine art medium: the unit's effort, resulted in the development of serigraphy, which has become one of the WPA’s most popular and enduring contributions to modern printmaking. Of the unit's six founding members, Harry Gottlieb was one of the most prolific, and in 1940 he achieved the distinction of having the first one-man exhibition devoted to serigraphy. ' Throughout the forties he lectured widely on the new process, playing a crucial role in promoting serigraphy as a major graphic art form. Although Gottlieb is a central figure in the history of serigraphy, no previous studs has focused on his pioneering works in the medium and his early efforts to broaden and enrich its technical capabilities. In 1935. Gottlieb settled in New York Citv, and in the following year he was assigned to the WPA/FAP's newlv formed graphics division. Like many of the Project’s programs, the division was established to produce original works of an for schools and other public institutions. With the excessive cost of materials for painting and sculpture during the Depression years. Project administrators quickly realized that pnntmaking afforded the cheapest mode of artistic production and multiple print editions made possible distribution on a national scale. During its six years of existence, me graphics division handled a large percentage of the Project's allocations and functioned as a veritable laboratorv for stvlistic interchange and technical exploration. While many artists worked in etching and other copper plate media, a number ot printmakers investigated the artistic potential of relief and planographic techniques, making significant advances m lithographs’, woodblock printing, and serigraphy During the 1930s Gottlieb was drawn to printmaking, as it allowed him to translate the spontaneous application and textural effects of his drawings into various graphic art processes Gottlieb h»d mastered lithographs in the early part of the decade, and after entering the graphics division in I11'1 lie resumed working tn the medium However. he qukki, adopted the experimental techniques that were circulating m the workshop. freeh apphmg tusche "ashes and scraping his stone to achieve vaned modulations m ink tone. hi m :: ex to D cc Pi ■i G b tl it :i t< it 1< 3 �Harry Gottlieb and the Development of Serigraphy ... Gregory Gilbert Collections, (cat. 14) During the 1930s, a number of innovations in color printmaking were developed under the aegis of the WPA’s Federal Art Project. Encouraged by these technical strides, Project administrators organized a special unit in 1938 to experiment with silkscreen as a fine art medium; the unit’s efforts resulted in the development of serigraphy, which has become one of the WPA’s most popular and enduring contributions to modern printmaking. Of the unit's six founding members, Harry Gottlieb was one of the most prolific, and in 1940 he achieved the distinction of having the first one-man exhibition devoted to serigraphy.1 Throughout the forties he lectured widely on the new process, playing a crucial role in promoting serigraphy as a major graphic an form. Although Gottlieb is a central figure in the history of serigraphy, no previous study has focused on his pioneering works in the medium and his early efforts to broaden and enrich its technical capabilities. In 1935, Gottlieb settled in New York City, and in the following year he w>as assigned to the WPA/FAP’s newly formed graphics division. Like many of the Project's programs, the division was established to produce original works of art for schools and other public institutions. With the excessive cost of materials for painting and sculpture during the Depression years. Project administrators quickly realized that printmaking afforded the cheapest mode of artistic production and multiple print editions made possible distribution on a national scale. During its six years of existence, the graphics division handled a large percentage of the Project’s allocations and functioned as a veritable laboratory for stylistic interchange and technical exploration. While many artists worked in etching and other copper plate media, a number of printmakers investigated the artistic potential of relief and planographic techniques, making significant advances in lithography, woodblock printing, and serigraphy. During the 1930s Gottlieb was drawn to printmaking, as it allowed him to translate the spontaneous application and textural effects of his drawings into various graphic art processes. Gottlieb had mastered lithography in the early part of the decade, and after entering the graphics division in 1936 he resumed working in the medium. However, he quickly adopted the experimental techniques that were circulating in the workshop, freely applying tusche washes and scraping his stone to achieve varied modulations in ink tone. In the late 1930s, the graphics division perfected several color printmaking methods, beginning in 193~ with the revitalization of color lithography.’’ This process had been used since the early 19th century for manufacturing commercial reproductions, yet Project artists began to exploit the technique for its own expressive potential, combining color with liquid tusche to create a wide range of painterly effects in their prints. During this period, Gottlieb produced a number of color lithographs, such as Afoierr of Steel (cat. 1ft) and Pittsburgh at Night (fig. 7) of 1937. One of his most successful and celebrated efforts was Bootleg Mining (fig. 1), a five color print of rhe same year. In this work. Gottlieb executed the design in tusche crayon and wash, balancing the translucent passages in the landscape with the powerful, linear markings of rhe figures and industrial machinery. Despite the popularity of color lithography in the division, it was a difficult process to master, requiring specialized equipment and the supervision of a skilled printer. Similarly, the color methods devised for woodblock printing and carborundum etching were costly and posed an array of technical problems to the artist. The burgeoning interest in color printmaking necessitated rhe development of a less expensive, less laborious technique, and in 1938 silkscrccn emerged as a viable alternative medium. Like lithography, silkscreen had been employed as a commercial process and was generally used for printing signs and labels. In producing a silkscreen print, the artist prepares a hinged box-like frame, which holds a tightly stretched screen of silk or nylon. The design is created by placing an impervious lacquer or cut stencil on the screen, blocking out the areas not to be printed Once the stencil or masking agent is in place, the artist then uses a squeegee to force ink through the open areas of the screen onto a piece of paper. If several colors are to be printed, a scries of stencils for each color must be cut and the finished work is created through successive applications of different inks; these separate steps are called progressive proofs and it is not until every color has been applied that a coherent design is produced. While attending an executive committee meeting for the Artists Union in 1938. Gottlieb heard a recommendation to utilize silkscreen as a fine an medium. The proposal had been submitted by Anthony Vclonis, an artist assigned to the Project's poster division. Velonis. who was aware of the widespread interest in color processes, used silkscreen in executing posters for the WPA and was interested in modifying 3 �I the technique for printmaking purposes. In his recommendation to the Artists Union Committee, Velonis outlined the many advantages of using silkscrceri for fine art printmaking that had attracted Gottlieb to the medium. Unlike lithography, etching and woodblock printing, silkscrcen did not require unwieldy presses, merely a frame and a modest assortment of hand tools. Because the equipment used in silkscrcen printing was portable and easily stored, it was possible for artists to perfect the craft in their own studios. This was an important benefit, as many printmakers felt that their creativity was hampered by working in the bustling, public atmosphere of the division workshop. The method was also economical, as stencils and inks were inexpensive and an untreated, low-grade paper or cardboard could be used for printing. Furthermore, an almost unlimited number of prints could be produced using a resilient nylon screen; in many intaglio processes, the incised areas of the plate are extremely fragile and often become worn down with repeated printings, resulting in the output of small editions. Perhaps the most radical aspect of the silkscrcen technique was its ability to emulate various graphic art processes and painting mediums. Depending on the viscosity and tone of the ink, the silkscreen print could assume the dense luster of a work in oils, or the subtle translucency of a tempera or watercolor. As Velonis remarked, “In a sense it is not a graphic medium at all, but lies somewhere between the duplicating process and easel painting.”1 Velonis' knowledge of the process was extensive, as he had worked closely with silkscreen techniques on the Project’s poster division. From its inception in the early thirties, the division attempted to transcend the pedestrian nature of the poster, promoting it as a legitimate form of creative expression. Indeed, many of the staff designers were painters, not commercial technicians, and they were concerned with the aesthetic as well as the functional aspects of their work? While the growing popularity of color printmaking contributed to the development of serigraphy, the artistic character of the FAP posters may have also prompted Velonis to consider utilizing silkscreen as a print medium. During his tenure on the poster division, Vclonb. wrote a series of silkscreen manuals for the WPA/FAP. Entitled Technical Problems of the Artist: Techniques nr the Silkscreen, these brief primers explained the pro-filn method and various other techniques that could be utilized in conjunction with cut stencil printing ’ The pro-film stencil method was used widely for lornmtn ul purposes, as it allowed for the printing of evenly cut designs and uniform applications of color However, printmaking required a greater modulation in line and ink rone, and in the late 1930s Velom attempted to combat the planar character of the silk i reen medium hi developing more flexible stenciling rechniqu' 1 wo of the most effective were the- glue stop-out and the tu . In­ wash-out methods, which employed masking fluid- that had to be brushed onto the screen to harden into a stencil, giving printed images a more fluent, painterly quality. It was also possible to achieve a varied range of textures with the tusche wash-out merhexi, „ the surface impressions of toss board or sandpaper could be transferred to the screen Often, all three techniques were combined to produce a single print the artist relied on pro-film to delineate his composition and u r d the other methods to add details or effects of modeling In his technical brochures. Velonis also maintained that more subtle tones could be produced by thinning viscid silkscreen paints with a transparent base or varnish The WPA office in Washington received an overwhelming number of requests for Velonis' manual, from regional FAP centers, and his writings served as the basts for much of the technical experimentation that later occurred in the Silk Screen Unit? Velonis formally submitted his silkscreen proposal the WPA/FAP in 1938, and with the support of the Public Use of Arts Committee and the United American Artists, the Project approved an experiment to utilize the technique as a fine an process In November of 'Ta year, a special Silk Screen Unit comprised of six FAP artists was organized, and Velonis was selected to supervise the group; the six artists were Harry Gottlieb Hyman Warsager. Ruth Chaney, Eugene Merely. U-u* Lozowick. and Elizabeth Olds: even earlier, Gottlieb expressed his immediate interest in the tec hnique n executive comrnittri i.| :i,< Ari, ' l'm,,n AuditMcMahon, ihr director »t th- \i.,v Y"rk \\ i‘A f VP responsible fot launching the .ib.u rt ii, |-rc-;«.: recommending ilui < .<>h ,.iri ' produ.t n-ar irul prinw I he enure I - mt w.i. then n quirt J i ■ • ubn n n - u'y four works io McMahon and t" dclni r a I’l'.'.p report -u, t He viability of silks, teen a a print medium Bv August of 1939. Projec t adtninistraroi dremt d rio n t flom j success and the Sdk Screen I tui wa-. !|i< .-.JI, "c.-i-mzcd as a branch of the WPA/FAP Although the silk .< reen group *4-. dr ignored d. : unit, this was something of a misnomer After Velonis trained each artist in the technique, they were pr-. to execute print m their o vn -.nidiot. a; no centralized silkscrceri workshop had been established,' Ii sa. riot until the Unit r.ucd it, official report to th- Projr'i tha’ the prinrrnakers met ro di-tu". their pr ,gt",: Consequently, the Silk Screen Unit can only partly be viewed a a toiler rive experiment ... the ;,r-i t worker 1 independently ro advance 'h'ir own ;r;r. oxtr.r "Juri'.re in the medium. It should be -rre-cd that rear,- l.’-iit members continued to employ otbtr f ontmaking methods during th, , period 'rearing ilk■< rren a; mtrr-iy one process in their re.hnital ,-eperroire For r.-ramp <• both Hyman War.agrr and Ruth Chaney were noted for their per i'tent interest in the -dur woodcut. E'lzatit’r. Olds remained a proiifi' lithographer, and the famed modernist Loui- Lozowick produced only onesilkscreen while on the Project Gottlieb on rhe other hand worked "xclusr.el» in stlkscreen from throughout the ear!’, form- me majority ot his output was devoted to the process. The stylistic diversity evident m the Unit s produce underscored the adaptable nature of the -.iksercen medium, While some of the art.-t- worked in ar. abstract Realism [e’fltl.il tlx lair amalgai cartoon m.»t ru Kamen work ' Realist express) G-trlrc Got for w< ro doq used tf the BrJ rigid <z< emphx dime re tone- ti printed prmrm dcvign apply ir expand with a and and gr. �poster division, Velonis rnuals for the WPA/FAP. if the Artist: Techniques of mere explained the pro-film hniques that could be ut stencil printing.5 The ised widely for commercial : printing of evenly cut ions of color. However, :r modulation in line and 3s Velonis attempted to >f the silkscreen medium by citing techniques. Two of lue stop-out and the tusche ployed masking fluids that creen to harden into a ; a more fluent, painterly a achieve a varied range of -out method, as the surface andpaper could be en, all three techniques single print: the artist :e his composition and used tails or effects of modeling. :lonis also maintained that roduced by thinning viscid >arent base or varnish. The :ceived an overwhelming is’ manuals from regional served as the basis for Dentation that later nit.6 d his silkscreen proposal to with the support of the e and the United American an experiment to utilize :ocess. In November of that tit comprised of six FAP lonis was selected to trusts were Harry Gottlieb, icy. Eugene Morely. Louis Is; even earlier. Gottlieb had rest tn the technique to the On the Beach, 1939. serigraph, 12 1/2 x 14 3/8. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of WPA New York Project, 1943. feat- 1) executive committee of the Artists Union. Audrey McMahon, the director of the New York WPA/FAP, was responsible for launching the silkscreen project, recommending that each artist produce four trial prints. The entire Unit was then required to submit twenty-four works to McMahon and to deliver a group report on the viability of silkscreen as a print medium.7 By August of 1939, Project administrators deemed their efforts a success and the Silk Screen Unit was officially recognized as a branch of the WPA/FAP. Although the silkscreen group was designated as a unit, this was something of a misnomer. After Velonis trained each artist in the technique, they were permitted to execute prints in their own studios, as no centralized silkscreen workshop had been established." It was not until the Unit issued its official report to the Project that the printmakers met to discuss their progress. Consequently, the Silk Screen Unit can only partly be viewed as a collective experiment, as the artists worked independendv to advance their owm innovative solutions in the medium. It should be stressed that many Unit members continued to employ other printmaking methods during this period, treating silkscreen as merely one process in their technical repertoires. For example, both Hyman Warsager and Ruth Chaney were noted for their persistent interest in the color woodcut, Elizabeth Olds remained a prolific lithographer, and the famed modernist Louis Lozowick produced only one silkscreen while on the Project. Gottlieb, on the other hand, worked exclusively in silkscreen from 1938 to 1940, and throughout the early forties the majority of his output was devoted to the process. The stylistic diversity evident in the Unit's products underscored the adaptable nature of the silkscreen medium. While some of the artists worked in an abstract idiom, Gottlieb was an exponent of Social Realism, and a number of his prints dealt with the political and economic crises of the Depression era Social Realism, emerging in the United Slates during the late twenties and thirties, was derived from an amalgam of styles, including militant political cartooning, the German Neue Sachlichkeit. and perhaps most notably, Mexican proletarian art. In fact, Jacob Kainen has asserted that Gottlieb's prints from the 1930s reflect an affinity for Jose Clemente Orozco’s work.’ Several of the stylistic traits associated with Social Realist art, such as a simplification of forms and an expressive distortion of the figure, can be detected in Gottlieb's prints from the 1930s. Gottlieb’s expressionistic manner was perfectly suited for working in silkscreen, as stencil printing lends itself to designs based on simplified cut-out shapes. Gottlieb used this to excellent advantage in his first silkscreen On the Beach of 1939 (fig. 2). Here, he has stressed the rigid outline of the stencil by employing a forcefully cut stroke, which gives the elements in his composition an emphatic, plastic quality. This sense of three dimensionality was reinforced by the layering of vibrant tones in bold, curvilinear shapes. On the Beach was printed in nine colors, an ambitious undertaking for Gottlieb’s first essay in the medium; however, he used ;a rather thick paint mixture, which resulted in the printing of flat, highly saturated hues. In executing his design he relied heavily on the cut stencil method, applying a limited range of textures to suggest the granular surface of the beach and to animate the broad expanses of flat color. In later prints he experimented with a wider range of brushed stencils and pigments, and soon he was able to imitate a variety of painterly and graphic effects with equal fluency. 5 �3. Fishermen's Luck, 1939, serigraph, 15 1/8 x 20 1/4. The Syracuse University Art Collection,. (cat. 2) flecks of pigment resemble the spattered marking’ of an ink and brush drawing. In th-, work, th.- swarthy figure-, of two rock drillers dominate the composition, giving these silhouetted forms an almost monumental quality. This was one of Gottlieb's few attempt, to aggrandize the worker, in the majority of his prints he incorporated figures into the industrial landscape, and often used them as compositional foils for the larger elements in the scene. As in On the Beach, a sense of figural solidity has been conveyed through the use of a forceful rounded stroke and the application of unmodeled tones Like the previous two silkscree ns, Driller; was primed in nine colors, yet Gottlieb reverted to using more opaque pigments to enhance rhe graphic character of this a The Strike is Won of 1940 (fig. 6). one of the ar.m s most celebrated political images, represents another experimental effort to extend the graphic range of the medium. Here, the sharply articulated forms and she layered planes of stippled color were used to imitate woodcut printing. Gottlieb relied on the expressive t >xc of his Social Realist vocabulary to convev the exuberant of the strikers, rendering their faces and gesturing b>xbes Gottlieb’s second silkscreen. Fishermen's Luck of 1939 (fig- 3), displays his increasing mastery of the process. Unlike the dense tones used in On the Beach, Gottlieb employed thinner pigments to emulate the transparent quality of watercolor or tempera. He was also able to mimic the fluid motion of a brush by cutting the stencil with a more rhythmic stroke. Although Gottlieb worked in a representational style, he imbued the elements in his prints with an abstract energy in order to convey a sense of dynamic motion. As Sidney Alexander observed, “A realist, he is deeply involved with his subject, but he struggles against being chained to it... the picture is a subjective-objective vision.”10 in Fishermen's Luck. Gottlieb expressed vigorous figural action by transforming the fishermen into a series of energetically curved lines. This sweeping stroke was also used to suggest the thrusting force of the waves, which were reduced to stylized bands of color in the manner of a Japanese woodcut. With Drillers of 1939 (cat. 4), Gottlieb eschewed a painterly approach for a more graphic effect. The colors have been applied in uniform layers and the stenciled 6 4. Minter nn th' < rri /• I <»«» -n^iq-b . and I ilden I oundation. ' • -) U ) print I ..Hr, I with ihe bluni minom. -4 .< ,- >lm- I f:. >r, the .inking pi<n>rul il'-nm an-1 . bm-t hoc were effective in c'.okmg th' r..u".-> of rhe derr.-.i.-irarmi< n- It? . ,,-i- >' Gi ,, GotrlieL maintained an uin,' n '■•rrct n il.r, =<ibie, r issuing th' Strike h !c ,n .t. bmb n.ir- aiul ten- ui-.r editions A’ -ilkurecn d'cign. arc nor reversed m printing Gottlieb was able to execute detailed preliminary drawings that were '-a it. trarnfemd r . the -fe'.'U The artist often prepared hi, sketch?, in olot indicating the printing various color separations that would be use: he produced each progre-,51.'- proof for in preparator. color studies in gouache for such ulkscreen work; a Mending the .\et, .’.or Rain Ram i'-.r ,\eti and Sior (cats. 3, 9. 23. 24). 'While Gottlieb executed prelirrunar. ketches for entire silkureen Cumpc’U'.iur. •udie : indr-.tduai figure- , o .r s jb' -u : example ;• ., sensitive!; re' : red pen, n dra;i.rg f ’-t ■ ■ "-i-l Kan whishdepi. i rhe tided-, w rm r. right of the print/cat W hen . t-mpartd rhe bold!- incised figure in rhe --iKwrecn in:. w '• r*.-ra • J .. fM IT./' qua �K I is. (cat. 2) the spattered markings of an his work, the swarthy figures e the composition, giving Imost monumental quality, ew attempts to aggrandize of his prints he incorporated ndscape, and often used for the larger elements in ch. a sense of figural solidity the use of a forceful, lication of unmodeled tones, eens, Drillers was printed in erred to using more opaque phic character of this work. iO (fig. 6), one of the artist’s tges, represents another d the graphic range of the aruculated forms and the >lor were used to imitate relied on the expressive force try to convey the exuberance sir faces and gesturing bodies 4. \V inter on the Creek, 1940, serigraph, 12 x 14 1/8. Print Collection. The New' York Public Library. Astor. Lenox and Tilden Foundations, (cat. 8) with the blunt economy of a political cartoon. Further, the striking pictorial design and vibrant hues were effective in evoking the boisterous, militant atmosphere of the demonstration scene. Throughout the late 1930s Gottlieb maintained an active interest in this subject, issuing the Strike Is Won in both four- and ten-color editions. As silkscreen designs are not reversed in printing, Gottlieb was able to execute detailed preliminary drawings that were easily transferred to the stencil. The artist often prepared his sketches in color, indicating the various color separations that would be used in printing each progressive proof. For instance, he produced preparatory color studies in gouache for such silkscreen works as Mending the Nets and Nor Rain Nor Snow fats. 3, 9, 23, 24). While Gottlieb executed preliminary sketches for entire silkscreen compositions, studies for individual figures exist as well. One such example is a sensitively rendered pencil drawing for The Strike Is Won, which depicts the elderly worker at the bottom right of the print (cat. 6). When compared with the boldly incised figure in the silkscreen, this work reveals Gottlieb’s ability to modify his formal approach to suit the character of a particular medium. A handsome, skillfully drawn sketch of a single figure also exists for Drillers (cat. 4). Winter on the Creek of 1940 (fig. 4) was Gottlieb’s most masterful effort in simulating painting techniques in silkscreen, and proved to be his greatest commercial and critical success as a serigrapher. Executed in eleven colors, it was also his technical tour de force in the medium. In producing this work, the artist printed alternating layers of opaque and transparent colors, building his tones in much the same manner that an oil painting is executed through a successive application of glazes. Further. Gottlieb used masking fluids to mimic the feathery touch of a brush, printing thick, impasto­ like touches of pigment which gave the surface of his work the delicate texture of a gouache. Unlike the mechanical operations of lithographic or intaglio methods, the matrix of a silkscreen can be freely manipulated, and the artist is able to alter the tonal quality of a print by simply lifting the frame or controlling the force exerted on the squeegee. This not 7 �I distinctly American contribution to the graphic arts. At this time, not only was there an emphasis in the United States on developing such indigenous styles as Regionalism and Social Realism, but there was also an interest in innovating printmaking methods that would rival accomplishments in European graphics. Two of silkscreen’s most enthusiastic promoters were Elizabeth McCausland and Carl Zigrosset McCausland, an influential and politically-oriented art critic of the 1930s and 1940s, championed silkscreen as a modern democratic art form, asserting that the low cost of the process would make high quality color prints available to the masses. McCausland was particularly active in promoting Gottlieb’s works during the forties, exclaiming that he was a “ . . . pioneer in the movement to popularize graphic art. . .. ’' and adding that ”... Gottlieb rates credit for having made a substantial contribution to the fine arts use of silk screen.”'J Carl Zigrosser, who was a renowned curator of graphic arc at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, was the first scholar to encourage the growth and acceptance of silkscreen as a print medium; as late as the mid-forties there was still a great deal of entrenched prejudice against color printmaking in all media, and many graphic art societies excluded color lithographs, woodblock prints and serigraphs from their publications and exhibitions. Yet, Zigrosser’s writings were extremely effective in stimulating both professional and public interest in silkscreen. He was also the first graphic art specialist to conduct a systematic study of the history of silkscreen and his 1941 article ‘‘The Serigraph, A New Medium" remains the definitive overview of the early development of the process.14 In fact, it was Zigrosser who coined the term serigraphy in order to differentiate the fine art silkscreen technique from its commercial ancestry. In his writings, Zigrosser also cited Gottlieb as being one of the most energetic proponents of the new medium. Not only were critics and printmaking specialists involved in promoting serigraphy, but Gottlieb was extremely active in advancing the process through a series of lectures and demonstrations that he conducted from the late thirties through the middle years of the forties. The first large public demonstration of silkscreen was held on August II, 1940 at the Works Progress Administration Building of the New York World's Fair. Of the six artists assigned to the Silk Screen Unit, Gottlieb was selected to demonstrate the various techniques utilized in silkscreen printing. Elizabeth ------ ■--- was also present at the demonstrauon and McCausland only allows for widely divergent impressions to be produced from the same stencil, but gives silkscreen prints a more painterly, handcrafted appearance. Gottlieb often modified the technical steps of silkscreen, and once likened the flexibility of the process to the spontaneous quality of drawing." In 1942, Winter on the Creek received the Eyre Medal of the 40th Annual Philadelphia Watercolor and Print Exhibition, the first silkscreen to be awarded a prize in a national graphic arts competition. Winter on the Creek proved to be so popular with the print-buying public in the early 1940s that Gottlieb issued a second version of the work. It was also illustrated widely in a number of art periodicals during this period and has appeared in several silkscreen handbooks as a representative example of Gottlieb’s work in the medium. Throughout 1939 and 1940 Gottlieb developed an almost systematic approach to expanding and perfecting the technical capabilities of silkscreen, as he experimented with an extensive range of stencil methods and pigment mixtures. In executing his prints, he emulated a variety of painting mediums and graphic art processes in order to demonstrate the flexibility and artistic potential of the new technique. Gottlieb produced such a prodigious number of silkscreens that he was able to hold the first one-man exhibition devoted to the medium at the ACA Gallery in March of 1940. The ACA Gallery had been organized and founded by Herman Baron, who sympathized with the political ideals of the Social Realist artists of the 1930s and had taken a keen interest in Gottlieb’s achievements in silkscreen. In his memoirs, Baron commented on the historical significance of Gottlieb’s exhibition: For the sake of giving it (silkscreen) a beginning let us say that it was introduced to the New York art world — and thereby to a nationwide audience — in the first large one-man show of work in the medium held at ACA Gallery ... Harry Gottlieb, in my opinion, was the logical artist to introduce the new medium, the silkscreen print." During the same month as Gottlieb’s show, two group exhibitions of silkscrcens were organized at the Weyhe Gallery and the Springfield Museum; however, Gottlieb’s display received a great deal of critical attention and several reviewers praised the artist for his facile command of textural effects and the novel use of color evidenced in many of his prints. Gottlieb’s ACA exhibition was more than a professional coup for the artist, in that several critics viewed it as an occasion to herald the birth of a new and addressed the audience on the social significance of the new medium. Shortly after serigraphy had been introduced to other artists in rhe graphics division, it quickly became one of the more popular printmaking methods, and by 1940 twenty percent of the Project's graphic allocations were being reproduced by the technique.1' Soon, such a large number of printmakers began to employ the process that an independent Silk Screen Group was established tn New York in May of 1940; like many Project artists. Gottlieb joined the Silk Screen Group, but he was affiliated with the organization for only a brief period." In 1940, after leaving the WPA/FAP, Gottlieb conducted a series of lectures and workshops on serigraphy at the University of Minnesota, the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the University- of Omaha and the University of Nebraska. At several of these locations, the artist actually helped to implement studio programs in serigraphy. In addition to his appearances in the Middle West. Gottlieb also lectured on the technique at Columbia University and the Museum of Modern Art, where the process was later used for printing reproductions of the museum’s holdings. Gottlieb’s lectures generally dealt with the technical benefits of utilizing serigraphy as a print medium, and he often demonstrated the process and invited members of the audience to pull their own prints. He also exhibited such educational materials as progressive proofs and color separations for various works, most notably a series that he prepared for the print The Long Island Ducks, c. 1941 (cats. 12 a-m). In many respects, Gottlieb’s lectures exemplified the ideological thrust of the WPA’s art programs, as he actively sought tn broaden the public's awareness and appreciation of the graphic arts; unlike Velonis, who preferred to disseminate knowledge of serigraphy through his technical writings. Gottlieb attempted to forge a more personal and immediate link between this newdemocratic an form and a responsive public. Gottlieb s efforts to promote the medium on a wider scale were also realized in 1940, when he acted as art and technical director of a film depicting the silkscreen technique, which was produced by Julius Roffman of the Educational Film Institute of New York University . Featuring Gottlieb demonstrating the various steps in silkscreen printing, it was the cinematic counterpart to Velonis' 19.3g technical manuals on silkscreen published by the WPA/FAP. Distribution of the film spread knowledge of the technique to areas that lacked college art programs o commitment t number of Pre for an entire p in this country burgeoning gr graphic w orksl prints in the 1 Shortlv aft onset of Work of the Project, to produce pn Gottlieb exect themes, such Damn the To> produced afte stemmed fron 1942. the ent Section of the silkscreen and artists who w< supporting th that had insu now openly d being utilizer printing gove trend, artists experiments i in the latter ] w ider follow-! Throughc innovations r equipment. ; Op art expo: Ironically, O] emphasized i Pop’s reliant serigraphy w the process r during the P obscure the j Gottlieb and However, in medium s e; figure in the process. Thr extensive lec in establish! means of ex: 9 8 �rican contribution to the graphic arts. At only was there an emphasis in the United oping such indigenous styles as id Social Realism, but there was also an ivating printmaking methods that would intents in European graphics, screen’s most enthusiastic promoters were msland and Carl Zigrosset McCausland, nd politically-oriented art critic of the Is. championed silkscreen as a modern form, asserting that the low cost of the nake high quality color prints available to Causland was particularly active in tlieb’s works during the forties. he was a “ . .. pioneer in the movement raphic an.. ..' ’ and adding that "... redit for having made a substantial the fine arts use of silk screen.”13 Carl vas a renowned curator of graphic art at a Museum of Art. was the first scholar to growth and acceptance of silkscreen as a as late as the mid-forties there was still a trenched prejudice against color all media, and many graphic art societies ithographs. woodblock prints and their publications and exhibitions. Yet. ngs were extremely effective in h professional and public interest in •as also the first graphic an specialist to natic study of the history of silkscreen tide “The Serigraph, A New Medium” initive overview of the early development ‘ In fact, it was Zigrosser who coined the in order to differentiate the fine art ique from its commercial ancestry. In his ser also cited Gottlieb as being one of rtic proponents of the new medium, ■re critics and printmaking specialists moting serigraphy, but Gottlieb was : in advancing the process through a s and demonstrations that he conducted lirties through the middle years of the t large public demonstration of silkscreen igust II. 1940 at the Works Progress Building of the New York World’s Fair, ts assigned to the Silk Screen Unit, leered to demonstrate the various ized in silkscreen printing. Elizabeth ts also present at the demonstration and addressed the audience on the social significance of the new medium. Shortly after serigraphy had been introduced to other artists in the graphics division, it quickly became one of the more popular printmaking methods, and by 1940 twenty percent of the Project’s graphic allocations were being reproduced by the technique.” Soon, such a large number of printmakers began to employ the process that an independent Silk Screen Group was established in New York in May of 1940; like many Project artists, Gottlieb joined the Silk Screen Group, but he was affiliated with the organization for only a brief period.” In 1940, after leaving the WPA/FAP, Gottlieb conducted a series of lectures and workshops on serigraphy- at the University’ of Minnesota, the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the University of Omaha and the University of Nebraska. At several of these locations, the artist actually helped to implement studio programs in serigraphy. In addition to his appearances in the Middle West, Gotdieb also lectured on the technique at Columbia University and the Museum of Modern Art. where the process was later used for printing reproductions of the museum’s holdings. Gottlieb's lectures generally dealt with the technical benefits of utilizing serigraphy as a print medium, and he often demonstrated the process and invited members of the audience to pull their own prints. He also exhibited such educational materials as progressive proofs and color separations for various works, most notably a series that he prepared for the print The Long Island Ducks, c. 1941 (cats. 12 a-m). In many respects, Gottlieb’s lectures exemplified the ideological thrust of the WPA’s art programs, as he actively sought to broaden the public’s awareness and appreciation of the graphic arts; unlike Velonis, who preferred to disseminate knowledge of serigraphy through his technical writings, Gottlieb attempted to forge a more personal and immediate link between this new democratic art form and a responsive public. Gottlieb’s efforts to promote the medium on a wider scale were also realized in 1940, when he acted as art and technical director of a film depicting the silkscreen technique, which was produced by Julius Roffman of the Educational Film Institute of New York University.” Featuring Gottlieb demonstrating the various steps in silkscreen printing, it was the cinematic counterpart to Velonis' 1938 technical manuals on silkscreen published by the WPA/FAP. Distribution of the film spread knowledge of the technique to areas that lacked college art programs or professional art schools. Gottlieb’s commitment to the graphic arts was shared by a large number of Project artists, who later became the mentors for an entire postwar generation of fine art printmakers in this country. Their activities contributed to the burgeoning growth of printmaking studios, university graphic workshops and the unprecedented market for prints in the 1950s and 1960s. Shortly after Gottlieb had left the WPA/FAP, the onset of World War II prompted the gradual dissolution of the Project, and many of the artists were encouraged to produce propagandistic prints for the war effort. Gottlieb executed several serigraphs depicting war themes, such as Montage ofAmerican Soldiers and Damn the Torpedo of 1942 (fig. 5), yet these were produced after his tenure on the Project and no doubt stemmed from his own patriotic sentiments. In March of 1942, the entire WPA/FAP was renamed the Graphic Section of the War Services Division, and additional silkscreen and lithographic equipment was provided for artists who were now obligated to execute works supporting the Allies.19 The technical experimentation that had insured the rapid maturation of serigraphy was now openly discouraged and the process was once again being utilized for the more functional purpose of printing governmental posters. Despite this regressive trend, artists such as Gottlieb continued with their experiments in serigraphy on an independent basis and in the latter part of the forties the technique gained a wider following in both the United States and Europe. Throughout the 1950s there were numerous technical innovations made in serigtaphic materials and equipment, and in the 1960s a large number of Pop and Op art exponents began to employ the technique. Ironically, Op art’s emphasis on flat, intense hues emphasized the planar character of the medium and Pop’s reliance on media imagery served to realign serigraphy with its earlier commercial associations. While the process reached its full art historical legitimacy during the Pop and Op eras, this actually served to obscure the pioneering advancements made by Harry Gottlieb and other Project artists during the 1930s. However, in reviewing these fertile years in the medium's early history, Gottlieb emerges as a pivotal figure in the development of silkscreen as a fine art process. Through his prodigious output of prints and extensive lectures on serigraphy, Gottlieb was influential in establishing the technique as a viable and potent means of expression for modern artists. 9 �Harry Gottlieb: -- : . Social Con Sheryl Conkelton We too are interested primarily in art, but we realize that the creation of important art is a . .xial phenomenon and docs not begin and end in the artist's studio. Anonymous address to the American Artists Congress, November 1. 1936 5. Damn the Torpedo, 1942, serigraph, 12 1/4 x 18 1/4. The Syracuse University An Collections, (cat. 13) two brochures were later reprinted by the WPA in 1941 in one volume entitled The Silk Screen Process. ‘O’Connor, The New Deal Art Projects, 324. ’Elizabeth Olds, in a letter to the author, April 2, 1983. ’Olds, letter. ’Kainen, ‘‘The Graphic Arts Division,” 167. '“Sidney Alexander, Harry Gottlieb, New York, ACA Gallery, 1948, 2. “Harry Gottlieb, in an interview with Sheryl Conkelton and Gregory Gilbert, March 10. 1983. “Herman Baron, American Contemporary Artists Gallery Papers, Archives of American Art, New York, D304, 678-680. “Elizabeth McCausland, “Silk Screen Color Prints, Parnassus, March, 1940, 34-35, “Zigrosser, ‘‘Serigraph,” 460. ' ■'Milton Meltzer. Violins and Shovels: The If PA Arts Projects, New York. 1976, 79. "Gottlieb, interview, March 10, 1983. “ACA Gallery Papers, D3()4. 1169. ‘Silk Screen Process Filmed,” The Magazine of Art. August, 19-10, 481-482. Kainen, “The Graphic Arts Division," 171- NOTES 'As Carl Zigrosser noted in his ''Serigraph, A New Medium,” Print Collectors Quarterly, December, 1941, 467, Guy Maccoy actually had the first one-man exhibition of silkscreen prints, which was held at the Contemporary Arts Gallery in New York in November of 1938; however, Maccoy had not utilized the fine art process of serigraphy that was perfected in 1939 by Harry Gottlieb and members of the Federal Art Projects’s Silk Screen Unit. Serigraphy was comprised of a variety of techniques that involved the use of oil pigments, whereas Maccoy had executed his silkscreens in waterbased paints. (Jacob Kainen, ‘‘The Graphic Arts Division of the WPA Federal Art Project,” in The New Deal Art Projects: An Anthology of Memoirs, ed. by Francis V. O’Connor, Washington. D.C., 1972, 167. Anthony Velonis, "Silk Screen Process Prints,” Magazine of Art, July, 1940, 411. ■'William F. McDonald, Federal Relief Administration and the Arts, Columbus, 1969, 438. Anthony Velonis, Technical Problems of the Artist: Technique of the Mik Screen Process, Vol. I and Vol. II: Methods Other Than Projilm, New York, 1938. These The social and political significance of works of art created under the auspices of the Works Progress Administration from its inception in 1935 to its dissolution in 1943 is immediately apparent. Not only does the content of these works make comment on the social and political temperament of the times, but the very existence of these works refers to an unprecedented system of government patronage for American art and artists. The importance and implications of this patronage were far reaching and tremendously involving for those artists who participated in rhe WPA programs. The artists and the work they did came to be regarded as integral to society’s well being and to the recovery of that well being. The artistic and political activities of Harry Gottlieb during this period are representative of rhe larger issues which concerned artists during the Depression years. His work focused on the artist’s responsibility to record the particular events and emotions of the times; art was a record of his subjective experience, but he also saw art as a progressive force, as a socially responsive and responsible activity. His major concern was not to espouse a particular political platform but to express the humanist ideal in the representation of people coping with the situations caused by tremendous economic depression. Gottlieb's political activity was centered upon the idea of the artist’s responsible role in society and. in turn, upon the government's responsibility to foster the artist and his art. He was very involved in encouraging government agencies to be supportive of art as well as industry and to be active in die dissemination of arc to a wide audience. The development of this audience was of great concern to Gottlieb: he taught and lectured on an and spoke often on the issues surrounding art education. He was supportive of proposals and projects which created a wider and more receptive audience. His decision to work with the graphic media was partially motivated bv this concern: prints were easily and inexpensively produced in large numbers and could be made available to the public. Gottlieb's initial involvement in political issues and organizations occurred upon his return from travel and 11 10 �I Harry Gottlieb: Art and Social Concern Sheryl Conkelton We too are interested primarily in art. but we realize that the creation of important an is a social phenomenon and does not begin and end in the artist’s studio. Anonymous address to the American Artists Congress. November 1. 1936 cat. 15) by the WPA in 1941 reen Process. Projecis, 324. he author. April 2, ivision." 167. 'ieb, New York. ACA v with Sheryl irch 10. 1983. itemporary Artists in Art, New York, screen Color Prints," <ovels: The U-'PA 1985. 69. The Magazine of ivision," 171. study in Europe on a Guggenheim Fellowship. He settled in Woodstock, where he had lived prior to his trip, and became aware of the growing organization among artists seeking government support as the Depression grew worse. Mrs. Juliana Force, who had given Gottlieb his first one-man exhibition in 1929 and was the first director of the Whitney Museum, was already involved with her own committee to raise funds for artists who had lost their usual sources of patronage when the Depression hit. Gottlieb joined her campaign and became chairman of the committee to raise funds.1 He was very successful in organizing a diverse group of artists into a supportive group. The lobbying efforts by this and other groups were instrumental in establishing the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP) in December 1935. Gottlieb continued to assist in efforts to increase public support of artists. The subtle change in the subjects that Gottlieb chose to depict in his paintings and lithographs reflect his growing political involvement. The lithographs he created in Europe show people taking part in all kinds of activities, as well as landscape scenes. Upon his return to Woodstock, leisure time subjects gave way to a consistent depiction of people’s labor: men at work in an icehouse and the excavation of a city street, among other images. The pleasantly wooded landscape began to reveal hidden quarries, busy railroad houses and other industrial scenes. The emphasis on the worker and the industrial landscape was accompanied by the full development of certain stylistic characteristics which had been exhibited to a lesser degree in his earlier works: disruption of scale within a continuous scene, alteration of naturalistic color and a blocky and summary description of the figure. This style had much in common with a general style developing among some of his contemporaries; it remained fairly consistent throughout Gottlieb's career. During the thirties, the term "social viewpoint" was used to describe paintings and prints of this kind. It has come to be known as "social realism," but at the time it was not considered realistic? Its distortions created a condensed account of the scene the artist sought to portray, with important elements selected and carefully emphasized to create a mood or impress a point. As Edmund Wilson pointed out in his essay on George Bellows, American artists at the time were working from a point of view for which there was no American tradition? They drew upon a wide variety of elements gleaned from sources as varied as the Surrealist The social and political significance of works of an created under the auspices of the Works Progress Administration from its inception in 1955 to its dissolution in 1945 is immediately apparent. Not only does the content of these works make comment on the social and political temperament of the times, but the very existence of these works refers to an unprecedented system of government patronage for American art and artists. The importance and implications of this patronage were far reaching and tremendously involving for those artists who participated in the WPA programs. The artists and the work they did came to be regarded as integral to society's well being and to the recovery of that well being. The artistic and political activities of Harry Gottlieb during this period are representative of the larger issues which concerned artists during the Depression years. His work focused on the artist’s responsibility to record the particular events and emotions of the times; art was a record of his subjective experience, but he also saw art as a progressive force, as a socially responsive and responsible activity. His major concern was not to espouse a particular political platform but to express the humanist ideal in the representation of people coping with the situations caused by tremendous economic depression. Gottlieb’s political activity was centered upon the idea of the artist's responsible role in society and, in turn, upon the government’s responsibility to foster the artist and his art. He was very involved in encouraging government agencies to be supportive of art as well as industry and to be active in the dissemination of art to a wide audience. The development of this audience was of great concern to Gottlieb; he taught and lectured on art and spoke often on the issues surrounding art education. He was supportive of proposals and projects which created a wider and more receptive audience. His decision to work with the graphic media was partially motivated bs this concern: prints were easily and inexpensively produced in large numbers and could be made available to the public. Gottlieb's initial involvement in political issues and organizations occurred upon his return from travel and 11 �Committee Against Discrim in-; He also n support of another Union proposal for public the inclusion of an artists’ pavilion in the Uni exhibition at the 1939 World's Fait His articl in the June 1937 issue of the Art Front Orgai rationalized the project for artists: The whole plan would remove the illusion of mystery and romantic rubbish that many peo have concerning art and the artists; and repla with an understanding of the artist's craft am place he tills as a responsible member of sock 6. The Strike Is Won, 1940, serigraph, 12 1/4 x 16 3/4. Ellen Sragow Gallery, (cat. 6) and held classes. Some of the teachers made lithographs to sell to support the school, others donated their time to give demonstrations and teach classes. The issue of racial discrimination was always an important one for the Union. Gottlieb was a member of the Artists Committee Against Discrimination which was formed within the Union in 1936 specifically to fight a clause included in the FAP contract that refused “aliens” the right to exhibit at the Municipal Art Center.26 He felt very strongly about the issue of discrimination; in a serigraph he produced later entitled The Strike is Won, (fig. 6) the foreground scene contains While Gottlieb was never fully convinced that abstract art was valid,21 he supported the right of other artists to paint in this way. At a meeting of the Artists United Front in June 1936 he spoke on this subject, as recorded by the radical newsletter the Art Project Reporter: “Harry Gottlieb, president of the FAP local stressed the need for the artists’ complete freedom of expression. . . one way to obtain this is to break down the project's limitations imposed by the administration.”24 Gottlieb's interest in and support of the educative purposes of the Union was evidenced by his participation in the Art School that was set up by the Union on Fourteenth Street.2’ As the Depression worsened and the WPA/FAP grew larger and more bureaucratic, it became more and more difficult for artists to be placed on the rolls. Most artists who applied, particularly blacks, were rejected. In an effort to help these artists achieve the status and the necessary ability, Gottlieb and some other artists such as William Gropper, Paul Manship, and Stuart Davis rented a space a group of people of various races united in the celebration of their hard-won victory.2 . .. Gottlieb was tireless in his support of the right of a people to art education, not only the training of artist but also the education of people in the appreciation o* art. He defended rhe right of the public to have to art as part of their dailv life and was consistent in support of projects which attempted to insure this, .nd the among them the Municipal Art Center and the Artim Am' 14 His words carried in them an echo of the both the Artists Union and the WPA/FAP. I Gottlieb was an ideal president: as its leader supported the purposes of the artist's organiz as its spokesman he strove to maintain a relat between the militant union and its members The issues Gottlieb chose to actively and pers support by speaking at meetings and writing publications were usually those which were a! supported by both organizations, and so less controversial. For example, while many of hi including Elizabeth Olds, exhibited their wo: exhibition at the ACA Gallery in October 19 benefit the Spanish loyalist cause, Gotdieb’s absent. At the same time, his support of oth such as the Artists Committee Against Discri illustrate his steadfast humanist framework: i focused on an immediate benefit for the artii contained within a larger purpose of integral and artmaking with society at large. The den ideal of improving society was always present Gottlieb remained uncontrovetsial becaus espousal of the humanist cause, although the the John Reed Club. out of which the Union a professed Communism. The early organizei leaders w'ere all radical leftists; rhe Union’s o Front, was modeled after the Russian journal and Left Front and its early organizational br and journal articles were full of leftist politic: However, there is little of this tvpe of rhetori Gottlieb’s writings; what he expressed was a : desire to see the human condition improved belief in the power of art as a progressive fori In the spring of 193' layoffs among the a once again considered and this time, in June, number of artists were fired, Gottlieb among and Stuart Davis went personally to Holger C spent several hours debating the necessity of I �Committee Against Discrimination. He also wrote in support of another Union proposal for public education: the inclusion of an artists’ pavilion in the United States exhibition at the 1939 World's Fair. His article appeared in the June 1937 issue of the Art Front Organizer and rationalized the project for artists: The whole plan would remove the illusion of mystery and romantic rubbish that many people still have concerning art and the artists; and replace it with an understanding of the artist’s craft and the place he fills as a responsible member of society. >f the teachers made lithographs tool, others donated their time nd teach classes. scrimination was always an nion. Gottlieb was a member of gainst Discrimination which was i in 1936 specifically to fight a \P contract that refused libit at the Municipal Art ongly about the issue of ;raph he produced later entitled 6) the foreground scene contains ious races united in the •won victory.27 in his support of the right of all not only the training of artists f people in the appreciation of hr of the public to have access ily life and was consistent in his i attempted to insure this, Pal An Center and the Artists but were unsuccessful in their attempts to convince him to support the artists.” Gottlieb was eventually rehired, but not before he had participated in every effort to secure the rehiring of all the dismissed artists, including showing the lithograph Bootleg Mining (fig. 1) in an exhibition entitled “Pink Slips over Culture."" Gottlieb was succeeded in his one year term as president by Philip Evergood. Gottlieb continued to be active in the Union, sitting on the National Executive Committee which coordinated the activities of artists unions across the country;"’ thus Gottlieb's political involvement did not cease completely, but simply became less important as he focused on the art of silkscreen itself as a vehicle for humanist expression and communication when he joined the newly formed FAP Silk Screen Unit in 1938. The depiction of incidents of human struggle served him in his pursuit of a socially responsible art. His membership in the Artists Union identified him with the industrial workers and he totally involved himself in the struggle of the working class With other artists he would often drive out to industrial towns and mining sites to sketch from life and discuss life and politics with the people there. In one incident, in order to be admitted to a mine during a particularly unstable time for a local union, he and another artist joined the miners union to prove their support for the workers there.” Particular issues would provoke sketches for prints, the idea for the final image being one which would convey a concise narrative of the situation. The serigraph, Mine Disaster, c. 1939. (cat. 5) illustrates a specific episode that occurred while Gottlieb was visiting a mine. In it, he chose to focus on rhe human drama that he became a part of rather than the specific details of the incident. The print shows an almost locationless, dark setting, out of which emerge small figures of various size and proximity, displaying emotions of shock and horror. In another serigraph, The Strike is Won, (fig. 6), the figures are much closer to the spectator, as if to include him in the emotional victory. Gottlieb's art was basically optimistic. It looked towards social betterment, itself a tool of progress. This connotation can be discerned even in the rather anonymous figures placed within an industrial landscape in the serigraph Change of Shift, c. 1940 (cover illustration). Several workers are seen descending towards the factory to begin their shift. While the looming towers and flames could be seen as threatening, the discontinuity of space that separates the workers from His words carried in them an echo of the goals of both the Artists Union and the WPA/FAP. In this sense Gottlieb was an ideal president: as its leader he supported the purposes of the artist’s organization, and as its spokesman he strove to maintain a relationship between the militant union and its members' employer. The issues Gottlieb chose to actively and personally support by speaking at meetings and writing for various publications were usually those which were also supported by both organizations, and so less controversial. For example, while many of his friends, including Elizabeth Olds, exhibited their work in an exhibition at the ACA Gallery in October 1936 to benefit the Spanish loyalist cause, Gottlieb’s work was absent. At the same time, his support of other programs such as the Artists Committee Against Discrimination, illustrate his steadfast humanist framework; each issue focused on an immediate benefit for the artists, but was contained within a larger purpose of integrating artist and artmaking with society at large. The democratic ideal of improving society was always present. Gottlieb remained uncontroversial because of his espousal of the humanist cause, although the focus of thejohn Reed Club, out of which the Union grew, was a professed Communism. The early organizers and leaders were all radical leftists; the Union’s organ, Art Front, was modeled after the Russian journals On Guard and Left Front and its early organizational broadsides and journal articles were full of leftist political rhetoric. However, there is little of this type of rhetoric in Gottlieb’s writings; what he expressed was a sincere desire to see the human condition improved and a deep belief in the power of art as a progressive force. In the spring of 1937 layoffs among the artists were once again considered and this time, in June, a large number of artists were fired, Gottlieb among them. He and Stuart Davis went personally to Holger Cahill and spent several hours debating the necessity of the firings, 15 �9. Liberty, 1941, lithograph, 13 x 19 3/8. The Syracuse University Art Collections, (cat. 22; participation were those which involved larger questions freedom to pursue personal expression, the opportunity for all individuals to appreciate art and culture and. ultimately, artistic and economic survival. Gottlieb s Gottlieb pursued a very active supportive role in the various political and professional organizations that existed during the thirties; his participation was motivated not by political ideologies, but by his view of himself as an artist, a position newly activated by both independent and government sponsored agencies. The choice of issues to support was, for Gottlieb, based on his response to the idea of the artist as a responsible social being with a particular purpose to fulfill. As seen in his prints, the issues in which he sought active subjects and themes from the WPA years were ver, closely linked to his political and social convictions, f'- drama and emotion which he portrayed ultimately expressed his deep belief in humanist ideals and communicated his desire for social improvement. 18 NOTJS Harty Gottlieb, in an interview with $ Conkelton and Gregory Gilbert, Juh 23. 1 Interview, July 23 1983. 'Patricia Hill and Roberta Tarbell, Thi Tradition and tin \X hiiney Museum of An New York, 1980, 84 ‘Edmund Wilson. George Bellows ' An American Larthifuake. New York 1951 'Gerald M Monroe. "Artists as Militat Wod ers During the Great Depres-ion." A American Art Journal. 14. I. 1974, 37. ‘Monroe, 7. American Artists Bulletin, Wmi-r 193 Gottlieb Pape r., Archives of American Art 'Marlene Park and Gerald 1. Markowit Deal for Art, Hamilton, New York, 1977. Interview. July 23. 1983. ‘"Harry Gottlieb, "Self Government at Municipal Art Center," Art Front, Februai Gottlieb Paper ., D343. 176. ' Stuart Dave , "The American Am t American Magazine of Art. 28. Augu-.t, r in Herschel B. Chipp, Theories in Modern and Los Angeles. 1968. 468 ‘Gerald M. Monroe, "The Artists Uni York," Art Journal, 32. Fall 1972, i" ■ 'Morri', Neuwirth, "219." Art Front. _ Harry Gottlieb Papers. D343, 153. “Monroe, "Artists as Militants " 8. •‘Harry Gottlieb, in an interview with ' Conkciton and Gregory Gilbert March 16’. “Gerald M. Monroe, "Art Front.' Arc American Art Journal. 13, 3, 1973, i '■ met controversy over a Rivera mural: Park and cite Edward Bruce, "The Public’s Reaction and Sculpture under the Section of Fine Ai Archives. See also Richard McKinzie. The : Artists, Princeton, 1973, 58-6~ Interview. March 10. 1983. �■ u> r \' dons. (cat. 22) were those which involved larger questions: jursue personal expression, the opportunity duals to appreciate art and culture and, rustic and economic survival. Gottlieb’s themes from the WPA years were very d to his political and social convictions. The :motion which he portrayed ultimately s deep belief in humanist ideals and ed his desire for social improvement. NOTES 'Harry Gottlieb, in an interview with Sheryl Conkelton and Gregory Gilbert, July 23, 1983. ■Interview, July 23, 1983. ■Patricia Hills and Roberta Tarbell, The Figurative Tradition and the Whitney Museum ofAmerican Art, New York, 1980, 84. ■Edmund Wilson, “George Bellows,” reprinted in An American Earthquake, New York, 1958, 96. ’Gerald M. Monroe, "Artists as Militant Trade Union Workers During the Great Depression, ’ ’ Archives of American Art Journal, 14, 1, 1974, 37. ‘Monroe, 7. "American Artists Bulletin, Winter 1937, Harry Gottlieb Papers, Archives of American Art, D343, 93. ‘Marlene Park and Gerald E. Markowitz, The New Dealfor Art, Hamilton, New York, 1977, xiii. ’Interview, July 23, 1983. '“Harty Gottlieb, "Self Government and the Municipal Art Center,” Art Front, February, 1936, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 176. "Smart Davis, "The American Artists Today,” American Magazine of Art, 28, August, 1935, reprinted in Herschel B. Chipp, Theories in Modern Art, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1968, 468. “Gerald M. Monroe, "The Artists Union of New York,” ArtJournal, 32, Fall 1972, 17. “Morris Neuwirth, “219,” Art Front, January, 1937, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 153. "Monroe, "Artists as Militants,” 8. “Harry Gottlieb, in an interview with Sheryl Conkelton and Gregory Gilbert, March 10, 1983“Gerald M. Monroe, “Art Front,” Archives of American Art Journal, 13, 3, 1973, 13 mentions the controversy over a Rivera mural; Park and Markowitz, 29 c«e Edward Bruce, "The Public’s Reaction to Murals and Sculpture under the Section of Fine Arts, National Archives. See also Richard McKinzie, The New Deal for Artists, Princeton, 1973, 58-67. '“See Thomas Craven, "Art and Propaganda." Scribner s Magazine, March, 1943, 191; "Nationalism in Art, Forum, June, 1936, 160. Sec also articles by Stuart Davis and Thomas Hart Benton in Art Front, January and April, 1935. '’Holger Cahill, "The Federal Art Project," New Horizons in American Art, Museum of Modern Art. New York, 1936, reprinted in Chipp, 472-473. ■“"The WPA Art Project; A Summary of Activities and Accomplishments," National Archives, cited by Park and Markowitz, 26. ’'Hills and Tarbell, 82-83. ““Policy of American Artists Congress,” February, 1936, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 11. “Interview, March 10, 1983. “"Artists United Front," Art Project Reporter, July, 1936, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343. 501. “Interview, July 23, 1983. “"Our Municipal Art Gallery and Center," Art Front, February, 1936, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 176. “Interview, March 10, 1983. “Harry Gottlieb, "The World's Fair and the Artist,” Art Front Organizer, June 18, 1937, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 451. “Monroe, "Art Front,” 13. “McKinzie, 99. ““On the Fine Arts,” The New Masses, July 27, 1937, American Contemporary Artists Gallery Papers, D3O4, 1140. “Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 104. “Interview, March 10, 1983. “"Win the War Conference May 24,” Joint Bulletin of the American Artists Congress and United American Artists, May, 1942, Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 45-47. “Monroe, “Artists as Militants,” 10. “Ibid. '"Report for 1942: An American Group, Inc., Harry Gottlieb Papers, D343, 537. “Interview, March 10, 1983. 19 �A Conversation with Harry Gottlieb The following interview with Harry Gottlieb took place on March 10, 1983, at the artist's hom‘^eW York City. For convenience, the questions °f% » are interviewers, Sheryl Conkelton and Gregory Gi combined and designated INT. Biographical note: Harry Gottlieb was bom in Bucharest, Rumania on January 23, 1895; in 1901he settled with his family in Ireland. Following the death of his mother in 1903, Gottlieb emigrated with his father andfive brothers and sisters to the United States in 1907. The family settled with relatives in Minneapolis, where Gottlieb attended the Minneapolis Institute of Art from 1915 to 1917. At this time, the school was one of the most active art centers in the Middle West, and such prominent Depression era artists as Adolf Dehn, Arnold Blanch, Wanda Gag, and Elizabeth Olds also studied at the Institute. In 1917, Gottlieb served as a military illustrator for the Navy, developing visual aids INTERVIEWER: What was your earliest involvement with art? HARRY GOTTLIEB: I spent my childhood in Ireland and we came from Ireland to Minneapolis, when I was about 13, 14 years old. I became interested in the Saturday Evening Post photographs and cartoons and I started to copy them. I got a great kick out of doing that, and that's the way I started. Let me tell you an unfortunate situation. We were quite poor. As a matter of fact, when we arrived in Minneapolis, there were five children and my father living in one tenement room. And the second day after we arrived, a cousin of mine, whom I hadn’t met before, came and cold me that, '‘Tomorrow I’m going to get you started selling newspapers and shining shoes on the street.” It was a devastating announcement to me. because in Ireland you lived out the rest of your life as a newsboy. INT: So, in other words, you didn't have a lot of rime to devote to art when you were young? HG: Well, worse than that - ] didn’t have any time to play with my playmates after school. I was so for a communications school in New London, Connecticut. Gottlieb settled in New York City in 1918 and during that same year he became a scenic and costume designer for Eugene O'Neill’s Provincetown Theatre group. In 1923, Gottlieb settled in the artist colony of Woodstock, New York, where he remained for twelve years. The artist's residency at Woodstock was interrupted in 1931, when he spent a year-long Guggenheim Fellowship studying in Europe. In 19yy, Gottlieb joined the Federal Art Project, and he worked in the graphics division until 1940; during this period, Gottlieb was an active member in such political organizations as the Artists Union and the Artists Congress, and in 1938 he was associated with the WPA/FAP’s Silk Screen Unit. After the dissolution of the WPA programs, Gottlieb remained actively involved with the silkscreen technique and continued to work in the medium until the middle years of the 1970s. Gottlieb last lectured on serigraphy in 1975 at Trent University, Peterborough, Ontario, Canada. shined a man’s shoes and he was feeling good, he'd give me a tip. You learn these little things very early. So, 1 did that all the way through school, because we were quite poor. My father needed whatever he could get from us. And I have an older brother who hardly went to school at all. It was one or two years and then he went to work. Never got any other education. I paid my way through. I never got a cent from my father for anything I needed. And I also learned how to work a sewing machine and mend my own clothes, and do all the things that you associate with a household. I would have to do it myself. So, I was a young worker, and that stayed with me when I went to art school. I had a job during the summer with a laundry, that I could still give some money at home and at the same time pay for my tumcn and other expenses. Now, I say this without resentment. I felt it was necessary. You grow up very quickly un et poverty, and I accepted the fact that 1 had to do this, and that was it. When I finished high school, I had to make up m mind what was I going to do. 1 had been drawing, asl been very much interested in art in a primitive way. got no advice. There wasn't anybody that I coul a• what should 1 do with my life; 1 had to feel my I decided I had a choice — '.■■..'her go to the University of Minnesota, wnich is in Minneapolis, or else go to art school. They had a summer course at the art school, so I decided to try to find out whether this was for me or whether I should go to college. It was the most wonderful experience. There was nothing else like it that I’ve ever had in my life. And so there was no question about what I was going to do. INT: You studied at the Minneapolis Institute of An. HG: We had a very fine head of the school. His name was Robert Koehleg a German artist. And he did something which was remarkable. He did the first painting on labor strife. INT: Didn’t he paint that when you were there? HG: No. Painted it earlier And he painted a great many other paintings which were very creditable, verygood. This was the first one that was done in the United States, and it was shown at the Whitney Museum a couple of years ago in an exhibition they had. INT: When did you begin an school? HG: I’ll tell you what happened to me. It was unfortunate. When I told my family I was going to an school, my father said, “What? Can you make a living at it?” That’s the first question he asked. And I got bombarded from all sides on this, so I had to pay attention to it. And what was the result? The result was I took a design course so I could make a living designing wallpaper or textiles. Not that I wanted to. I was just forced into it in a sense, because I had nothing to counteract it. And so I missed some of my art education that would have been very valuable to me. I had to pick it up on the wav. INT: Did they use any silkscreen techniques in this design course? HG: Silkscreen didn't exist. INT: It wasn’t even a commercial process then? HG: Well, I never heard of it. INT: What type of courses did you take in art school? HG: Well, I did drawing, and very little painting. Most of it was drawing. There was some design. So I kept on drawing, and I painted on my own. I may hate brought the paintings I did for the teacher to criticize. 1 don t remember specifically. INT: What type of subject matter were you interested in at that time? HG: I was interested mainly in nature, and I did drawings, primitive drawings, of people I knew. INT: Did you do any lithography or etching while you were at school? HG: At that time, drawing was all 1 did. 21 �mentions school in New London, sei•ttled in New York City in 1918 and ame year he became a scenic and costume Eugene O'Neill’s Provincetown Theatre 2i, Gottlieb settled in the artist colony of New York, where he remainedfor twelve list’s residency at Woodstock was n 1931, when he spent a year-long ■ Fellowship studying in Europe. In 1935, ,.ed the Federal Art Project, and he u. orked ics division until 1940; during this period, an active member in such politicos s as the Artists Union and the Artists •din 1938 he was associated with the Silk Screen Unit. After the dissolution of ngrams, Gottlieb remained actively involved •screen technique and continued to work in until the middle years of the 19/ Os. t lectured on serigraphy tn 1975 at Trent Peterborough, Ontario, Canada. .n's shoes and he was feeling good, he d give ju learn these little things very early. So. I the wav through school, because we were My father needed whatever he could get id I have an older brother who hardly went all. It was one or two years and then he k. Never got any other education. I paid my i. 1 never got a cent from my father for leeded. And I also learned how to work a tine and mend my own clothes, and do all hat you associate with a household. I would t myself. s a young worker and that stayed with me t to art school. I had a job during the h a laundry, that I could still give some )me and at the same time pay for my tuition epenses. Now. I say this without resentment, necessary. You grow up very quickly under 11 accepted the fact that 1 had to do this, s it. finished high school, I had to make up my was 1 going to do. I had been drawing, had wch interested in art in a primitive way, as I1 ce. There wasn’t anybody that 1 could ask 11 do with my life: I had to feel my own way- 1 decided I had a choice — either go to the University of Minnesota, which is in Minneapolis, or else go to art school. They had a summer course at the art school, so I decided to try to find out w hether this was for me or w hether I should go to college. It was the mOst wonderful experience. There was nothing else like it that I’ve ever had in my life. And so there was no question about what I was going to do. INT: You studied at the Minneapolis Institute of INT: How important do you think your artistic training was to your later development as an artist? HG: Well, it gave me a base that wasn’t a particularly full base. As a matter of fact, when I came to New York to live I decided to take a course with a very fine graphic artist — popular and a realist. [The artist was John Sloan.] I signed up for the course for a month, and he didn’t come the first time I was there. They don’t come all the time. They come once or twice a week to criticize. And I lost my interest. I paid my money, but I never went. I never really took the course. This was in 1919, but earlier, when I finished my classes, there were prizes given to the student that made the most progress, and I was second. The artist who got the first prize decided to enlist in the Navy. This was World War I. I was not politically motivated in any way, but I didn’t like the idea of accepting something that he sacrificed. So I also enlisted. Isn’t that crazy? To this day I couldn’t figure out any other reason but that I just didn’t want to accept his sacrifice. There was Navy training at an institution in Minneapolis and then we went during the summer to live in Harvard dormitories. And then the basic training was at New London, Connecticut. You either served on a submarine or a sub chaser. It was very difficult, because you had to learn the equipment in the dark so you could take it apart and put it together in the dark. You can imagine what kind of concentration you had to have. So I got the idea that if I, as an artist, could do large closeups of these small parts, it would be easier to understand them. I told the commandant my idea, and he thought it was a good idea. So I spent the rest of my time doing this as the artist on the staff. In the Navy, when you got a signal that the admiral was there, you dropped everything and stood at attention. At one time, I was working on something at a table, doing a picture of a part, and I paid no attention. And when the admiral, under the guidance of the commandant, came through, I was the only person working. He was interested; the commandant had to explain. Since it was the first time this had been done, naturally he went into it in some detail and the admiral praised him to the sky for having the initiative to do An. HG: We had a very fine head of the school. His rurne was Robert Koehler; a German artist. And he did something which was remarkable. He did the first painting on labor strife. INT: Didn’t he paint that when you were there? HG: No. Painted it earlier And he painted a great rmm other paintings which were very creditable, very good. This was the first one that was done in the United Sstes. and it was shown at the Whitney Museum a couple of years ago in an exhibition they had. INT: When did you begin art school? HG: I’ll tell you what happened to me. It was unfortunate. When I told my family I was going to an school, my father said. “What? Can you make a living at it?” That’s the first question he asked. And I got bombarded from all sides on this, so I had to pay attention to it And what was the result? The result was I took a design course so I could make a living designing wallpaper or textiles. Not that I wanted to. I was just forced into it in a sense, because I had nothing to counteract it And so I missed some of my art education that would have been very valuable to me. I had to pick it up on the way. INT: Did they use any silkscreen techniques in this design course? HG: Silkscreen didn’t exist. INT: It wasn't even a commercial process then? HG: Well, 1 never heard of it. INT: What type of courses did you take in art school? HG: Well, I did drawing, and very little painting. Most of it was drawing. There was some design. So I kept on drawing, and I painted on my own. I may have brought the paintings I did for the teacher to criticize. I don't remember specifically. INT: What type of subject matter were you toterested in at that time? HG: I was interested mainly in nature, and I did drawing-,, primitive drawings, of people I knew. INT: Did you do any lithography or etching while this. All the time I was in the Navy, I never was on a ship, never even saw a ship. I played the role of the artist on the staff, which they should have had in the first place. Bur that’s my Navy training. INT: And when you left the Navy, you went back to Minneapolis? ... HG: I went back to Minneapolis just tor a short period, just to sort things out. I didn’t intend to stay. I ; ',U Were at stfiojjp HG: At that time, drawing was all I did. 21 �INT: Did you do any lithographs in Woodstock? HG: Four. One in particular, The Round House. INT: So your work with lithography in Woodstock was your first involvement with the graphic arts? HG: That’s right. Oh, I did several drypoints, but was the place for me had realized that New York on the weekends, once in a because from New' London, while I'd go to New York. INT: Did you get involved with graphic arts and the political scene at the same time you began this new life? very, very simple. INT: Where did you do your drypoints? Were those also in Woodstock or was that earlier? HG: Several in Woodstock. INT: Were they landscapes? HG: Well, one was a landscape in a sense. There were huts that the fishermen had to put all their equipment in, and maybe their fish, too. But basically it HG: There wasn’t anything. I saw some shows, some exhibitions, which were interesting. The first job I had was at S50 a week at a studio that made designs for textiles and wallpapers. INT: So you used your training? HG: I used my training, but I didn’t make any designs. And I didn’t stay with that very long. I got a job with a factory making armatures. I didn't stay there very long. It was very, very difficult. I wasn t used to using my arms or muscles in that way. A job opened up at the Provincetown Theater. I had a very interesting was people. INT: The lithographs you did in Paris, were those color lithographs or black-and-white? HG: I only did one color lithograph, when I came to New York. During that year, the first few months. I stayed in Paris, and then I w’ent to Germany because of the museums. And, of course, 1 enjoyed Italy. Who could not enjoy Italy? And 1 did some work there. INT: When you finished your Guggenheim, did you period of several years there. INT: And after Provincetown, you went to Woodstock? HG: I went to Woodstock because I had to I find somewhere I could go and develop myself as; an artist and at the same time make a living. INT: Was there an artist colony there then? HG: Yes, of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone. Woodstock was very important to me. In the first place, I made a living making picture frames. I love landscape painting and at Kingston, New York, only ten miles away, there was very interesting material. There was a very small waterway that had small boats that came from Pennsylvania to bring in coal. The landscape there was very beautiful, and they had slaughterhouses and large buildings, subjects that were of interest to me. INT: So you mainly did landscape work at Woodstock? HG: Yes, and in 1931, I got a Guggenheim and went to Europe for a year. INT: You did mostly drawings when you were in Europe? HG: Lithographs. The best lithographs I ever made I was very fortunate. Paris had the best lithographer probably in the world. INT: You worked in a studio? HG: A workshop. INT: Do you remember the name of the lithographer? HG: Desjoubert. He was a wonderful, wonderful lithographer. Hr:N idihk experience.0' come back to New York? HG: I came back to Woodstock, that was my home. Mrs. Juliana Force was in charge of a small project that was opening in Woodstock. I got on it. A small group of us met and discussed the possibility of enlarging the project. I got in touch with some artists in New York, and their suggestion was that we hold a meeting of all the artists in Woodstock to find out what the conditions were. I’ll tell you, they had a verv, very tough time: we had to set up an organization just to make it possible to eat and get kerosene for heat. They said, “Hold a meeting and see if you can get your project organized. So, we got together and sent out a call for this meeung. And, much to our amazement, we saw artists whom 1 had never seen — academic artists, and other artists that I knew. This was an awakening to think that we had separated ourselves, and it had taken an emergent to get together again as artists to talk about our craft, h enlarged the project, naturally, because we had found out that some of these artists were just as badly oft as wc were! Which was an interesting thing. I doubt very much whether it ever got back to the old division. So you learn from things. Then, in '35, the things 1 d heard about New York were so exciting 1 decided to move. I had had enough of Woodstock. As a matter <-* y0U h0W t0 do '“hography? fact, basically, 1 don't believe in art colonies isolated INT: Because they are isolated from life, or from things that were going on artistically? "rV"a' hW' ‘ had 22 HG: Both. I think it's much more cut off from life than the other, though both were operative. INT: When you originally came to New York and you started going to galleries and museums, what particular artists or what styles were you interested in? HG: Burchfield just fascinated me. INT: Was it because of his style or the subject matter that he painted? HG: Oh, it was his subject matter, and his point of view, his attitude. I explored — not abstract art — but really putting more design into my work. I never at any time was fully convinced that abstract art was valid for me, for the simple reason that I considered art a language to communicate my experiences. INT: When you began to do your work in New York, were you involved with communicating certain ideas or just depicting things that you saw? HG: I did some people at work. For instance, thev were working on the tracks that we had for the streetcars at that time, and I did some drawings. When I first moved to New York, I lived in a brownstone on Fifth Avenue and 14th Street. And just across the street, on the second floor of the building, was a beauty parlor school. And so I did drawings of that, of the people that were there and the teachers. INT: When you came to New York, were you immediately involved in the WPA projects here? HG: Yes, in ‘35. And then, in 1936. I was president of the Artists Union. INT: Oh, that happened that quickly? HG: Well, the so-called “established artists” didn’t want to get involved in it. it’s too bad. but that was the situation. I was avid to experience whatever could be experienced in such an exciting time and place. I wanted to become involved So, in ‘36 I was president. INT: Did vou get involved with the silkscrcen project right away or did that come later? HG: That came later, because I didn t know anything about it and no one else knew anything about it, except the people who were doing commercial work. INT: 1 think you originally told us that when you were the president of the union. Anthony Velonis5 came and asked you to be part of his silkscreen unit 1Is■ that heard of th< other an ar that i $5 ar S200 stron it's a II to lo depii L li idea I I wa I matt I 1 I lire post the esu sorr. the the den cou exai to s abs ani did the ait right? HG: No. He brought a proposal to the executive committee of the union He thought that the silkscreen process was suitable for fine art production. Vie were , impressed, and so we set up a committee to meet with 'he administration to create a pilot project to try it om The administration approved of this idea. From what I prii but «F edi exp ver 23 �I Did you do any lithographs in Woodstock? Four. One in particular, The Round House. So your work with lithography in Woodstock hist involvement with the graphic arts? fhat’s right. Oh, I did several drypoints, but simple. Where did you do your drypoints? Were those hodstock or was that earlier? Several in Woodstock. Were they landscapes? Well, one was a landscape in a sense. There s that the fishermen had to put all their nt in, and maybe their fish, too. But basically it ile. The lithographs you did in Paris, were those ographs or black-and-white? 1 only did one color lithograph, when I came to k. During that year the first few' months, I Paris, and then I went to Germany because of turns. And, of course, I enjoyed Italy. Who t enjoy Italy? And I did some work there. When you finished your Guggenheim, did you ck to New York? I came back to Woodstock, that was my home, ana Force was in charge of a small project that ling in Woodstock. I got on it. A small group of nd discussed the possibility of enlarging the I got in touch with some artists in New York, r suggestion was that w'e hold a meeting of all s in Woodstock to find out what the conditions 1 tell you, they had a very; very tough time; we ;t up an organization just to make it possible to get kerosene for hear. They said. "Hold a and see if you can get your project organized." ot together and sent out a call for this meeting, rch to our amazement, we saw artists whom I :r seen — academic artists, and other artists lew. This was an awakening to think that we irated ourselves, and it had taken an emergency 'gether again as artists to talk about our craft. It the project, naturally, because we had found some of these artists were just as badly off as we hich was an interesting thing. I doubt very hether it ever got back to the old division. So n from things. Then, in ‘35, the things I’d jout New York were so exciting I decided to had had enough of Woodstock. As a matter of -ical!;.. I don t believe in art colonies. • ecause they are isolated from life, or isolated mgs that were going on artistically? HG: Both. I think it’s much more cut off from life than the other, though both were operative. INT: When you originally came to New York and you started going to galleries and museums, what particular artists or what styles were you interested in? HG: Burchfield just fascinated me. INT: Was it because of his style or the subject matter I that he painted? HG: Oh, it was his subject matter, and his point of view, his attitude. I explored — not abstract art — but really putting more design into my work. I never at any time was fully convinced that abstract art was valid for me. for the simple reason that I considered art a I language to communicate my experiences. INT: When you began to do your work in New York, were you involved with communicating certain ideas or just depicting things that you saw? HG: I did some people at work. For instance, they were working on the tracks that we had for the streetcars at that time, and I did some drawings. When I first moved to New York, I lived in a brownstone on Fifth Avenue and 14th Street. And just across the street, on the second floor of the building, was a beauty parlor school. And so I did drawings of that, of the people that were there and the teachers. INT: When you came to New York, were you immediately involved in the WPA projects here? HG: Yes, in ‘35. And then, in 1936, I was president I of the Artists Union. I INT: Oh, that happened that quickly? HG: Well, the so-called “established artists" didn’t want to get involved in it. It’s too bad, but that was the situation. I was avid to experience whatever could be experienced in such an exciting time and place. I wanted | to become involved. So, in ‘36 I was president. I INT: Did you get involved with the silkscreen project right away or did that come later? HG: That came later, because I didn’t know anything about it and no one else knew anything about it, except the people who were doing commercial work. INT: 1 think you originally told us that when you "’ere the president of the union, Anthony Velonis came and asked you to be part of his silkscreen unit. Is that right? HG: No. He brought a proposal to the executive committee of the union. He thought that the silkscreen Process was suitable for fine art production. We were impressed, and so we set up a committee to meet with the administration to create a pilot project to try it out. eard, it was a really exciting possibility; I became one o the men on the pilot project. There were five or six others. It was the most exciting experience I’ve had as an artist because it opened up such possibilities. I think that it democratized art. For example, my prints sold for S5 and $10. Now, I don't have to tell you, they sell for $200 to $500. That’s the difference. Anyway, I feel very strongly about the meaning of that meeting and what it’s accomplished. INT: Did the idea that you could make art available to lots of different kinds of people influence what you depicted in your silkscreens? HG: Naturally. INT: It didn’t just come from the WPA and the idea that you were documenting it? HG: No. It had nothing to do with that. I did what I wanted. It wasn’t often that there were conflicts. INT: You never really had any problems in such a matter? HG: I never had any problem whatsoever. INT: So there was no sense of censorship? HG: No. I could understand that the people who live in a community where a mural is to be done in a post office would want a committee to be set up so that the community could meet with the artist and help to establish what the subject would be. They might have some ideas themselves, and I think it’d be wonderful. If the artist was interested, it’d be beautiful and give it all the more meaning. But that’s a question of prior conference to determine what the subject would be and what it couldn’t be. I don’t believe in censorship at all. For example, I believe entirely that an artist should be able to work in the way that he wants to, whether it’s abstract or realistic or what-have-you. INT: There’s a similarity in the way that a lot of the artists painted and drew. Was that something that you did consciously? Did your style change? HG: My style didn’t change. INT: What were you particularly interested in about the silkscreen process? HG: In the first place, it doesn't require extensive machinery, and all the other print-making crafts do, with the exception of wood block. Number two, you can print on any paper that you want. You don't have to buy expensive paper to print on. It’s a question of expense, you see. Number three, you can have large editions' -- you can sell them very reasonably and I expand the audience for art. And number four, which is very, very important — you can live anywhere. You administration approved of this idea. From what 1 d 23 �HG: No, you see, because of the freedom of the silkscreen, you work wherever you are. whether vT have to live tn a Dig uiy u .. exhibition and all rhe lithographs, whereas I carried an It has such obvious equipment for printing in my hands, on Staten Island or God-knows-where. You're frcc y' have all the equipment and you just go ahead and T advantages for an artist. his technical manual for INT: When Velonis wrote the silkscreen process, did you help with it? HG: No. I had nothing to do with that. own silkscrccn INT: You started writing your manual, didn'ti you? IlUUl, UIUU y.zv. HG: I did start, but I never finished it. INT: Why did you remain interested in silkscrccn after the dissolution of the Silk Screen Unit? HG: It was my own personal interest that caused m< to spend every moment that I could working toward an exhibition, although that wasn t my original idea. I just wanted to produce this process which 1 was sold on. You what you want, what you can. INT: So you worked on the art by yourself, but.,itJ got together with other artists over the artistic i»ut,; know, it's almost like painting. INT: Is that why you were interested in it. because of its ability to mimic painting? HG: Yes, because you could change it as you went along. It had so many possibilities and was so exciting. INT: What was the specific strut turc of the Silk Screen Unit? Did you meet as a group to discuss your projects? HG: The six met as a group with Velonis so that bl­ could teach us the process. That's all. INT: After you initially learned the technique, you never really got together again as a group? HG: No. You were on your own INT: So then all you did was present your proposals to Lynd Ward? HG: Lynd Ward was the head of the graphics, and we had to work with him. INT: And once that was all done, you just went ahead and did it? HG: That’s right. Everyone was on his own. INT: What was the community like then? Did you get together and talk about what you were doing? HG: No. That was as likely as to talk about how vou were doing on a painting. INT: There was no group interchange* , Th T"’ T anT Set UP a Silkstrccn organization which had nothing to do with the project, but had to do with work outside. INT: Is that the Silk Screen Group, organized in 1940? Were you part of that? HG: I was for a time, but I didn’r l,„ . ■ INT: So while you were associated with the Sillf' Screen Unit, you didn't reallv have a central smd workshop where all of you worked together" " HG: Never. INT: Well, the Artists Union. HG: No. The only reason we got together on that basis was to fight for the project and to fight for ant artist who was kicked oft without reason. INT: So it didn't involve artistic matters happened artistically HG: No. Well, il something ' which waMi t justified1 in our minds on the Project, then .. . see? But in deciding about w. would rake it on. you ’ ■■ -r and that ort of thing, unless it was rtallt subject matter tonfitt t. we never had anything to du with it. a key 1 INT: You opened up a school of .silksctcen with Elizabeth Olds, didn't you' HG: Well, we got omc literature out, but never opened up the school INT: When you demon .trated. was n to make people aware of rhe new '.ilk'xrct n ptotrv,, or wa- it io attually teach them how to do it' HG: There's only one plat e where I've taught, aid that was Lincoln. Nebraska I hey asked me il I would give a quick i.->ur ■■ and I had a few day- free And ■■■ got a tew students there, and gave sessions I multi teat h any one the print , so they < ould go home aid '■ it themselves. It's -,o simple. INT: But didn't you actually travel to ttai h silkscreen' HG: No. Just to demonstrate, to introduce it INT: Was that tied to your interest in trying :<r- art more accessible to the public? HG: Of course. INT: Did you want them to become iuW''"enough in the medium to produce their own oir • HG: I’ll tell you, everyone who came to a demonstration pulled their own print. INT: When we talked before, you merit:' the print can make incidents and " wider audience. Wat this what ,-,u intended ■■■■■-■■ depicted scenes like Bootleg Mining' HG: I want to tell vou about two im.-de"-- - ' incidents. At one of the coal mines in Penn ■ . there was a road that came our from me ?JJ‘' ', , the miners had dug in order to get the ecu. out • . owner decided to hire a steam shovel rode* INT: So that pcopf- oxildu't to me m HG: That’s right. So the miners found ou and they met this man driving the steam shot they told him. "Buddy, turn around. You're to do anything to this road. We know what y< for." And the guy said. "But I have nothing you people. It's the only job I tan get.” The pulled him off the steam shovel and destroyet else could they do? So the mining company p charges. The committee of the miners asked t "Well. Judge, what are you going to do abou He said, "What can 1 do? You admit you did When the case was decided, he found the mil fined them $10 and took it out of his own po because he too depended on the coal. Anyway, there’s another story which is difl interesting. One day we tame out there and s: president of the union. We asked him if he k territory that we hadn't been to. He thought he said, "Yes, there's a very nite area. 1 third it." He told us whii h way to go, and we wen terrible road 15 miles of lousy road. And tame to this area and it was most interesting, die car and started to take our material out. a saw about ten miners with a leader marching When they tame up,the chairman of the com said. "If you don't get out of here in five mi cat is going to be upside-down " "Why? Wh done?," we said He said, "You know what ; done." We tried every way to convince them were their friends. Nothing doing. So we rode all the way back to see the mi president. He thought it was a joke, and we think it was a joke ar ail. It was a serious mai gave us his card and he wrote on it, “These O.K." So we drove back over this lousy mad showed the mine leader this card. He said, longer have confidence in trie president In f suspect, that he’s caused this trouble we’ve h So we said to this miner. "Look it may i nothing to you, but it means a hell of a lot made to feel that we re your enemy Isn’t ti­ that you trust to say we’re O.K And he t "Well, all right. I’ll give you a last chance, two guys that have a breaker." A breaker is that breaks coal into different■ tzes for dtffc We knew them. w went back over this I1 miles, and saw thieve two guys and they th« a yoke. too. Again we didn't think so. The "Look. We have a ver. simple -.'No.n — �, ou see, because of the freedom of the 1 work wherever you are, whether you live nd or God-knows-where. You're free. You quipment and you just go ahead and do t, what you can. bu worked on the art by yourself, but you rich other artists over the artistic issues? r. , the Artists Union. The only reason we got together on that ght for the project and to fight for any ; kicked off without reason. : didn’t involve artistic matters. Well, if something happened artistically justified in our minds on the Project, then : it on. you see? But in deciding about r and that son of thing, unless it was reallv we never had anything to do with it. opened up a school of silkscreen with Is, didn’t you? . we got some literature out. but never e school. :n you demonstrated, was it to make of the new silkscreen process, or was it to them how to do it? e’s only one place where I've taught, and □In, Nebraska. They asked me if I would ourse. and I had a few days free. And so I lents there, and gave sessions. I could the process so they could go home and do It's so simple. didn't you actually travel to teach Just to demonstrate, to introduce it. that tied to your interest in trying to make ssible to the public? ourse. you want them to become interested c medium to produce their own silkscreens? ell you. everyone who came to a n pulled their own print. en we talked before, you mentioned how make incidents and situations known to a ce. Was this what you intended when you tes like Bootleg Mining? mt to tell you about two incidents, dramatic t one of the coal mines in Pennsylvania oad that came out from the coal holes that tad dug in order to get the coal out. The mine’ ed to hire a steam shovel to destroy the road- I I I INT: So that people couldn't get to the mine? HG: That’s right. So the miners found out about it and they met this man driving the steam shovel and they told him. “Buddy, turn around. You’re not going to do anything to this road. We know what you’re here for" And the guy said, “But I have nothing against you people. It s the only job I can get.” The miners pulled him off the steam shovel and destroyed it. What else could they do? So the mining company preferred charges. The committee of the miners asked the judge, “Well. Judge, what are you going to do about this?” He said. “What can I do? You admit you did it.” When the case was decided, he found the miners guilty, fined them $10 and took it out of his own pocket because he too depended on the coal. Amway, there’s another story which is different but interesting. One day we came out there and saw the president of the union. We asked him if he knew some territory that we hadn’t been to. He thought of one and he said. “Yes. there’s a very nice area. I think you’ll like it.” He told us which way to go, and we went along this terrible road — 15 miles of lousy road. And finally we came to this area and it was most interesting. We parked the car and started to take our material out, and then saw about ten miners with a leader marching toward us. When they came up, the chairman of the committee said. “If you don’t get out of here in five minutes, your car is going to be upside-down.” “Why? What have we done?.” we said. He said, “You know what you’ve done.” We tried every way to convince them that we were their friends. Nothing doing. So we rode all the way back to see the miners’ president. He thought it was a joke, and we didn't think it was a joke at all. It was a serious matter. He gave us his card and he wrote on it, “These people are O.K.” So we drove back over this lousy road, and showed the mine leader this card. He said, “We no longer have confidence in the president. In fact, we we became members, paid our dues, and we got a card, and we drove back over this 15 miles. We had to clear ourselves. That was the most important thing. So, we saw this guy and we showed him our union cards. We shook hands all around and we were brothers. Oh, incidentally, I didn’t tell you why they were so suspicious of us. A committee was sent to New York to bargain to sell coal to Burns Brothers, the big company in New York. And Burns Brothers wanted to buy it, but at a price unacceptable to the miners. So they couldn't come to any agreement. Burns Brothers got in touch with Mayor LaGuardia, and he sent detectives out to the coal fields to see where the coal came from. If it came from bootleg mining, it wasn’t allowed to come into the city. So anyone with a license plate from New York was suspect. INT: It was really important for the miners to know who you were and feel that you were part of their group. HG: Sure. Oh, we got invited to a very select meeting in a small hut once, when they were talking strategy. They knew we were artists — in fact, we showed them some of our work while it was going on, you know. And so they knew that we were spreading the good news. INT: So, in some ways, your involvement with, say, documenting the activities was a way of spreading knowledge about what was going on with this situation? HG: Well, we hoped it was it, but that wasn’t all — the real thing was the drama. For instance, the one I did of the mine disaster. The interesting thing to me is the fact that not only are they mourning the loss, but they’re organizing in the background. They’re discussing what they’re going to do about it. It reminds me of the stories that I’ve heard about the farmers of that period. A story was told that in Montana there was a farmer who was losing his land because he couldn’t pay his taxes, and the state was going to auction it off to the highest bidder. The farmers in that area got together, because it could happen to any of them, and they let everybody who was at that auction know that no one was to bid higher than the farmer himself on the land. And it was understood, if they didn’t obey that order, something would happen. And that’s what happened. The farmer was the only one that bid. So he got his land back. People stuck together in those emergencies. Otherwise they lost. I don’t think­ people stick together enough in relation to the things that happen to them. INT: So, in a way, in your prints, you were making suspect that he's caused this trouble we’ve had.” So we said to this miner, “Look, it may mean nothing to you, but it means a hell of a lot to us to be made to feel that we're your enemy. Isn’t there anybody that you trust to say we’re O.K.?” And he thought, Well, all right. I’ll give you a last chance. There are two guys that have a breaker. ’ ’ A breaker is a machine that breaks coal into different sizes for different uses. We knew them, so we went back over this lousy 15 miles, and saw these two guys, and they thought it was “ i°ke, too. Again, we didn't think so. They said, Look. We have a very simple solution — join up. So 25 �SERIGRAPHS (SILK 1. On the Bea. ■ 12 1/2 x 14 -3 The Metropolitan New York Project. I ’. 2. Fishermen's Luck. i 15 1/8x29 1/4 The Syracuse University Art Collections 3. Nor Rain Nor Snow. c. 1939 10 3/8 x 13 7/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 4. Drillers. 1939 13 5/8 x 13 1/4 The Syracuse University Art Collections I this message your contribution to the situation. HG: Trying to tell the truth by graphic means, let’s say. But that wasn't the only thing. I hope it s a good work of art. INT: Elizabeth Olds wrote that the social problems of the Depression and what happened during the New Deal provided a background for a movement to grow, a movement of artists which were later called the social content school. Did artists come together over a certain kind of subject matter? HG: There were artist organizations which entered the political field, you see? It didn’t necessarily have to do with an, but eventually it would get into the art just by the nature of things that the organization stood for and what they wanted the world to be — the American Artists Congress, for example. And since we were part of the CIO as a union, we were somewhat influenced bv the ideals which were projected and growing in relation to their problems. So we became part of the general program that the CIO unions had at that time. INT: And you would support them? HG: Absolutely. INT: So, did you find that you were more involved in political things generally than as an artist? HG: Certainly. That’s right. Well, that’s one of the reasons why I left Woodstock. I wanted to get to the city, where so many exciting things were happening which were really important. INT: You were president just during 1936? HG: For one year. INT: The ’’219" strike at the Federal An Project offices occurred while you were president? HG: Right. Let me tell you about that. The .ommiuee set up to be in charge of this decided that I should stat in the office of the union, since 1 had the authority, being president. Now. I don’t know whaty.vj heard about it but let me tell you again. The cops beat up the people mercilessly. INT: What happened after the arrest? HG: We got Marcantonio. who was the Congressman at the time, and really was a people's Congressman. When the hearing was held, the first thing that Marcantonio did was to ask a cop. “Do you know who this man is?.’’ indicating one of the artists. “No. I don’t know.’’ Didn’t know him from Adam — in other words, he could have been pulled oft the street. There was no evidence. The case was dismissed. Now. this is the important thing: LaGuardia said. “I will neveraga" allow my police to play this role." It happened at that time that there was a strike on a ship in the harbor The National Maritime Union heard about this statement of LaGuardia’s, and thev had their men go on the ship and sit down, instead of marching outside in a picket line. So the ship companv urgentlv asked LaGuardia to do the same thing for them as he had done against the artists, and LaGuardia said. You read and heard my statement, and that’s the wav it is. " The ship company had to settle the strike, so. indirectly, the artists played* role. INT: \\ hat happened to the Artists Union' Did >■ just dissolve? HG: You cannot have a union unless you have a common goal. That’s the who'e purpose et it. Once yy Project was over, the union w.t> over, unie-w they woU”1 turn it into a commercial artist.'' union er comethin.like that. IN 1: And no one tel: the need to keep <?rgatuZCu’._ HG: Well, we h.;.i an organization alter that. ■ had no basis Selt employment provides no basis 5. Mine Disaster, c. 1939 13 5/8 x 13 1/4 The Syracuse Universitv An Collections 6. The Strike is Won, 1940 12 1/4 x 16 3/4 Ellen Sragow Gallery 7. Change of Shift, c. 1940 16 3/4 x 20 3/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 8. Winter on the Creek. 1940 12 x 14 1/8 Print Collection. The New York Public Libr Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 9. Mending the Nets. 1941 14 5/8 x 22 3/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 10. Going to Work. 1941 15 1/4 x 20 1/4 The Syracuse University Art Collections 11. Steel Town Panorama. 1941 16 5/16 x 21 1/2 Print Collection. The New York Public Lib Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 12. a.-L: Twelve progressive proofs tor Long Isi Ducks, c. 1941 12 3/4 x 16 3/4. each proof Collection of the artist m.: Lang Island Ducks, c. 1941 12 3/4 x 16 3/4 Collection of the artist 13. Damn The Torpedo. 1942 12 1/4 x 18 1/4 The Syracuse University An Collections �Catalogue of the Exhibition —s are in inches; height precedes width. AH dimensions SERIGRAPHS (SILKSCREENS) COLOR LITHOGRAPHS ! on the Reach, 1939 ' !2 1/2 x 14 3/8 The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of WPA New York Project, 1943 14. Bootleg Mining, 1937 14 x 18 1/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 7 Fishermen’s Luck. 1939 15 1/8 x 20 1/4 The Syracuse University Art Collections 15. Pittsburgh at Night, c 1937 12 7/8 x 19 The Metropolitan IMuseum of Art,....................... Gift of WPA New York Project, 1943 3. Nor Rain Nor Snow, c. 1939 10 3/8 x 13 7/8 The Syracuse University An Collections 4. Drillers, 1939 13 5/8 x 13 1/4 The Syracuse University Art Collections being president. Now. I don’t know’ what you >out it but let me tell you again. The cops beat >eople mercilessly. What happened after the arrest? We got Marcantonio. who was the Congressman me. and really was a people’s Congressman, le hearing was held, the first thing that jnio did was to ask a cop. "Do you know who 1 is?,’’ indicating one of the artists. “No. I iow.” Didn’t know him from Adam — in other .e could have been pulled off the street. There ■vidence. The case was dismissed. Now, this is irtant thing: LaGuardia said. "I will never again r police to play this role." It happened at that t there was a strike on a ship in the harbor. The Maritime Union heard about this statement of ia’s, and they had their men go on the ship and . instead of marching outside in a picket line, tip company urgently asked LaGuardia to do ■ thing for them as he had done against the nd LaGuardia said, "You read and heard my it, and that’s the wav it is.” The ship company :ttle the strike, so, indirectly, the artists played a \X har happened to the Artists Union? Did it jive? You cannot have a union unless you have a i goal. That s the whole purpose of ir. Once the vas over, the union was over; unless they would nto a commercial artists' union or something : And no one felt the need to keep organized? 'Xeu. we had an organization after that, but it basts. Self-employment provides no basis. 5. Mine Disaster, c. 1939 13 5/8x13 1/4 The Syracuse University An Collections 6. The Strike is Won, 1940 12 1/4 x 16 3/4 Ellen Sragow Gallery 7. Change ofShift, c. 1940 16 3/4 x 20 3/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections S. Winter on the Creek, 1940 12x14 1/8 Print Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 9. Mending the Nets, 1941 14 5/8 x 22 3/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 16. Makers of Steel, 1937 13 1/16 x 19 7/16 Print Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations LITHOGRAPHS 17. Coal Mine Country, c. 1935 14 1/2 x 19 1/2 Ellen Sragow Gallery 18. Coal Pickers, 1936 10 x 13 7/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections 19. Zinc Plant, 1937 13 x 16 Print Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 20. Street Near a Steel Mill, Y)S~t 13 3/8 x 18 1/4 The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of WPA New York Project, 1943 10. Going to Work, 1941 15 1/4 x 20 1/4 The Syracuse University An Collections 21. Three Lane Traffic, 1937 10 1/2 x 14 The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of WPA New York Project, 1943 11. Steel Town Panorama, 1941 16 5/16x21 1/2 Print Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 22. Liberty, 1941 13 x 19 3/8 The Syracuse University An Collections IT a.-].; Twelve progressive proofs for Long Island Ducks, c. 1941 12 3/4 x 16 3/4, each proof Collection of the artist m.: Long Island Ducks, c. 1941 12 3/4 x 16 3/4 Collection of rhe artist Damn The Torpedo, 1942 12 1/4 x 18 1/4 rhe Syracuse University Art Collections GOUACHES 23. Mending the Nets, 1941 14 3/8x22 The Syracuse University Art Collections 24. Nor Rain Nor Snow, c. 1939 10 3/8 x 13 7/8 The Syracuse University Art Collections �documentary items DRAWINGS PUBLICATIONS AND EXHIBITION CATALOG’.,. 25. Ruins- of the Quarry at Kingston. 1930 pastel on paper 19 x 23 3/4 Ellen Sragow Gallery 26. Study for Coal Mine Country, c. 1935 ink wash and pencil on paper 13 7/8 x 16 5/8 Ellen Sragow Gallery 27. Study for Bootleg Mining, 1936 charcoal and pencil on paper 10 3/4 x 14 Ellen Sragow Gallery 2. Sketch and mock-up of exhibition catalogue- Harn Gottlieb’s One-Man Silkscreen Exhibition, ACA Gallery, New York, 1940 Harry Gottlieb, New York PHOTOGRAPHS 28. Steel Mill Operation, 1936 pencil and charcoal on paper 10 3/4 x 14 Ellen Sragow Gallery 3. Photograph of silkscreen demonstration at New York World’s Fair August 11, 1940 Miscellaneous Mss: McCausland Papers Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution photo: Friedmacher 29. Study for Drillers, c. 1939 pencil and ink on paper 15 x 11 1/2 Ellen Sragow Gallery 30. Study for The Strike Is Won, pencil on paper 11 1/4 x 17 1/2 Collection of the artist 1. a-b. Anthony Velonis, Technical Problems of th, Artists: Technique of the Silk Screen Process, V. [ and Vol. II: Methods Other Than Profilm Feder,; Art Project, New York, 1938 Harry Gottlieb, New York 1940 4. Photograph of silkscreen demonstration at New York World’s Fair August 11, 1940 Miscellaneous Mss: McCausland Papers Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution photo: Friedmacher 5. Photograph of silkscreen demonstration at New York World's Fair August 11, 1940 Miscellaneous Mss: McCausland Papers Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution photo: Friedmacher 6. Photograph of Harry Gottlieb printing Mending the Nets Harry Gottlieb Papers Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution MAGAZINES 7. Art Front, July-August, 1936. ill. Low Tide by Gottlieb Department of Special Collections and Archives, Rutgers University Libraries 8. Art Front, January 1937. cover photo of “219" strike Department of Special Collections and Archives. Rutgers University Libraries 9. Art Front Organizer, June 18, 193", article by Gottlieb, The World’s Fair and the Artist." Harry Gottlieb Papers An hives ot American An, Smithsonian Institution I � https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/1c872b3c6b3956e4650da72c55c7a97f.pdf b1a40f80da0303746af778a5f76d58bc PDF Text Text ���������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 January 8 Harry Gottlieb: The Silkscreen and Social Concern in the WPA Area Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harry Gottlieb Stanley I. Grand Gregory Gilber Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 January 8 - February 12 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/15b86f8650f4b3fc5166b53b14d8f9cd.pdf b35c81e709ff8c38f86fbd9065d09c40 PDF Text Text 198/ Scholastlc Art fiy6ds Eastern Pennsylvania Regional Exhibition Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes College February 19 to March 4,1984 �EASTERN PENNSYLVANIA SCHOLASTIC ART AWARDS REGIONAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE RICHARD A. FULLER, Chairman Associate Professor of Art I Art Education Wilkes College IUDITH O'TOOLE Director, Sordoni Gallery Wilkes College NANCY HONTZ Art lnstructor Dallas Junior High School IILL EVANS SAPORITO Art lnstructor W. CURTIS MONTZ Coordinator, Public Relations Boscov's, The Boston Store THOMAS ]ACOBS Manager Boscov's, The Boston Store ALBERT SARKAS Coughlin High School Art Education Hazleton Area School Dist. SANDRA LEIBMAN ]OHANNA ROBBINS Supensisor of Art lnstructor Wyoming Valley West Middle School Art Instructor Pittston Area Junior High School BEVERLY GLENNON Art Instructor BETSY MORRIS Art lnstructor Seton Catholic High School Wyoming Seminary GERARD ZEZZA Superoisor of Art Education MAXINE WATTER-SILVA Artist-Consultant Wyoming Area Schools IN APPRECIATION: The Eastern Pennsylvania Scholastic Art Regional Advisory Committee and Boscov's, The Boston Store, wish to thank Wilkes College for hosting the 1984 Art Awards Program. Among the many individuals who helped make this year's exhibition a reality, a special vote of appreciation to Iudith O'Toole, Director of the Sordoni Art Gallery. THIS YEAR is the 57th year that Scholastic Magazines,lnc., with the cooperation of civic-minded sponsors, is conducting an art awards program for the high school students of America. With its aim of encouraging student achievement in creative art at an age when encouragement is important, the project has started many worthy students on their way toward advanced study and careers in the art field. �BOSCOV'S, THE BOSTON STORE, celebrates its fourth anniversary year of Scholastic Art Awards regional sponsorship in 1984. Central Pennsylvania's largest department store, Boscov's, The Boston Store, joins in a long history of Boscov's community involvement and concern for the youth of our region. REGIONAL HONORS in the Eastern Pennsylvania Scholastic Art Awards include the Certificate of Merit, for honorable mention, and the gold achievement key, for work deserving extra commendation. All the pieces shown in the Regional Exhibition have been awarded the Certificate of Merit. Gold Key and finalist selections were made by the regional jury. NATIONAL HONORS include special prizes and gold medals, mounted on plaques and engraved and given in all art classifications. In addition, seniors who have submitted portfolios of their best work are eligible to win scholarships to art schools, colleges, and universities throughout the country. Regional juries choose individual pieces and senior portfolios to go on to the national competition. SPECIAL AWARDS, given for outstanding achievement in the Eastern Pennsylvania Regional Exhibition, are listed below. HALLMARK HONOR PRIZE * a $100 purchase prize for the best dratoing or painting, sponsored by Hallmark Cards, lncorporated. Selected by the national judges from fit:e pieces nominated by the regional iury. KODAK MEDALLION OF EXCELLENCE - a gold medallion for the best photograph, sponsored by Eastman Kodak Company. Selected by the national judges from fit:e photographs nominated by the regional iury. WYOMING VALLEY ART LEAGUE AWARDS - four cash awards, sponsored by the Wyoming Valley Art League, and presented for achieoement in dratoing and painting. Auards selected by the regional judges. WILKES COLLEGE ART DEPARTMENT AWARDS - setseral cash atoards, sponsored by the art department, gioen for meritorious achieoement in any of the thirteen classifications. Awards selected by the Wilkes Art Faculty, LLEWELLYN & McKANE AWARD - an auard of $ZS for achieoement in the graphic design classification, sponsored by Lleuellyn & McKane lnc., manufacturers of fine printing. Auard selected by the regional iudges. KEN POLLOCK AWARD - an engralred sterling siloer medallion atoard for outstanding ability demonstrated in the jeuelry classification. Sponsored by Frank Clark, lncorporated. Atoard selected by regional iudges. DOROTHY BRACE BARBER MEMORIAL WATERCOLOR AWARDS - four cash autards of $25 each, sponsored by Sue Hand's lmagery and presented for achieoement in usatercolors. Auards selected by the regional iudges. MARQUIS AWARDS FOR ARTISTIC MERIT - four gift certificates for the best oil and acrylic painting for a Senior High School and ]unior High School student. Atoards selected by regional judges. REGIONAL SPONSORS AWARD - $25 uorth of art or photography supplies from Boscoo's, The Boston Store, Presented to the student utho submits the most outstanding portfolio. Azoard selected by regional iudges. SWEET BASIL GRAPHICS AWARD - a $25 autard for a greeting card design, sponsored by Sueet Basil Graphics. Atoard selected by regional iudges. �SONDOXI ABT OALLERY . Wilkes College 150 South River Streel . Wilkes-Batre, Pennsylvania 18766 GALLERY HOURS: Sunday through Friday 1-5 p.m. Saturday 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Thursday evenings until 9 COVER Counterclockuise from top ight Oil Painting by Thomre Mayshock Hazleton High School Photograph by Mark Vi*otski Coughlin High School Oil Painting by Loi Mreon Freeland High School Mixed Media by Patrizia Boob Dallre lunior High Watercolor by Chis Boyes Wyoming Seminary Prep � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 February 19 Scholastic Art Awards Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 February 19 - March 4 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/8680930413174923e9b96ea2c0ec0c5f.pdf c383cb2c4e3c8638a6ff901fa7af44a7 PDF Text Text tfft -rq s ffi t *$ ts ril IIII lw ,A, i'rlt .} GI el ru {1 s; N Ix �iflr? trW Sordoni Art Gailery HtI"i,*?'r'i,ti,, wlr",-eu,,e, pA 18766 7t7-824-465t join us for an opening reception Sunday, March 23 2:30 - 4:30 p.m. Please The Art of Satire: Artists as Caricaturists and Cartoonists From Delacroix to Picasso This exhibition was organized by the Pratt Graphics Center, New York City, and is sponsored in \,1/ilkes-Barre by a grant given in honor of Dr. Roy E. Morgan. An illustrated catalog will accompany this exhibition. On the verso: Stuart Davis, May Day, Art Front, May, 1935 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 March 23 The Art of Satire: :Artists as Caricaturists and Cartoonists from Delacroix to Picasso Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 March 23 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/7a95612ca718db0c2cbe3b549d83cb9f.pdf ea996c82b4291475a792397e107133be PDF Text Text A Lfj BOB HAGGARD PAINTINGS Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes College SORD GA ND237 H185A4 1984 �Bob Haggart: Paintings Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes College Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania March 11 through April 8, 1984 Front Cover Photo: Days of Wine and Roses, 1983 Oil on board 12 x 16 Copyright © 1984 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College All rights reserved. i �IntrodJ Others who have lent their assistance to this program are: Jerome Campbell, Bob Wilber, Al Groh, and my father, Chadwick Hansen, who first explained “The Big Moise from Winnetka.” To the artist, Bob Haggart, and to his wife, Windy, we extend our gratitude for their enthusiastic help in organizing this exhibition. A great love is felt by these two people for all manifestations of the fine arts. Mr. and Mrs. Andrew J. Sordoni III have expressed their own love for music and painting through commitment and support for this exhibition, for which we are also grateful. Judith H. Toole Director 2 The invitation to Bob Haggart for a Celebration of his Music and Art comes as a result of two happy circumstances. First, the artist is a world-class musician and accomplished painter; and, secondly, Wilkes College is dedicated, in spirit and facility, to presenting worthwhile, cultural experiences to its students and to the community at the Dorothy Dickson Darte Center for the Performing Arts and at the Sordoni Art Gallery. In one major artist, then, and at one location in Wilkes-Barre, Bob Haggart and the administration of Wilkes College through both its Department of Music. Jerome Campbell, Chairman; and the Sordoni Art Gallery, Judith O'Toole, Director, could come together in a balanced program of music and art. From his own comments, students and community alike will learn 3 �Introduction assistance to this program /ilber, Al Groh, and my 5 first explained “The Big Judith H. Toole Director The invitation to Bob Haggart for a Celebration of his Music and Art comes as a result of two happy circumstances. First, the artist is a world-class musician and accomplished painter; and, secondly, Wilkes College is dedicated, in spirit and facility, to presenting worthwhile, cultural experiences to its students and to the community at the Dorothy Dickson Darte Center for the Performing Arts and at the Sordoni Art Gallery. In one major artist, then, and at one location in Wilkes-Barre, Bob Haggart and the administration of Wilkes College through both its Department of Music, Jerome Campbell, Chairman; and the Sordoni Art Gallery, Judith O'Toole, Director, could come together in a balanced program of music and art. From his own comments, students and community alike will learn that Haggart uses the same creative impulses and sensitivities in creating arrangements, compositions and paintings. Through direct experiences, listeners and viewers can form their personal impressions of the message that is contained in each and every Haggart expression. We are pleased to present this major talent in his sixth decade as a performer and to know that the college and the community will enjoy his music, his paintings and his friendship. Andrew J. Sordoni III Wilkes-Barre, Pennsyluania February, 1984 3 �The Music and Paintiil Recently, I visited the home of a friend who owns one of my early paintings. When I saw the painting, I got the same kick that I get when I hear one of my early arrangements. When the Sarasota Jazz Festival asked me to bring some of my paintings to exhibit, my first reaction was to show things along musical lines. I have many small still life pictures which do suggest music to me. My initial thought was to show this relationship by using song titles to describe the paintings. This idea seemed to be provocative and often amusing and added another dimension to the still-life subjects which often have a very calming effect on the viewer. Sometime the titles get a laugh, which isn’t all bad. Bob Haggart To me, there is a definite parallel between composing a piece of music and painting a still life. The play of light in figurative art is very similar to the play of counterpoint in music. As one attempts to create these effects of light and shade, music and painting seem to go hand in hand. In forming a still life, or in orchestrating a beautiful piece of music, there is an identical search for good balance, color, form, and space. The end results seem to have a similarity as well. The finished painting will acquire a life of its own, living on, hopefully, to give pleasure to the viewer. The written arrangement or newly composed melody will lie dormant until it is performed by a group of musicians. Only in performance can it spring to life, bringing excitement and joy to the listener. Whether putting notes on a sheet of score paper, or daubing a loaded brush on a canvas, its the same trip! At the turn of the century there was a great discussion among creative people about the inter­ relationship of all the arts. Struggling to break free from the bonds of representation, painters and sculptors looked with envy to their counterparts in music. Here was a medium totally free from the concrete world of the object. The inherently abstract quality of a musical composition created a parallel to the world of reality rather than a dependency on that world, as in the visual arts, for images with which to convey their meaning. The Russian modernist, Wassily Kandinsky, wrote about the link between music, literature, and the visual arts in his book, Concerning the Spiritual in Art. As a child, Kandinsky had been equally fascinated by painting and by music. He used musical terms such as melodic and symphonic to describe his own paintings, which he hoped would, like music, speak to the soul of a subject rather than simply describe the outer image. Similarly, Bob Haggart found himself torn between his two great loves, painting and music, when he had to choose a career, A student under Kimon Nicolaides at the Art Student’s League since high school, Haggart nevertheless chose jazz. This decision was prompted by his first gainful employment as a bass player for a band touring the Bahamas.1 Haggart never abandoned his painting, however, and throughout a busy and prominent career in music he has still devoted many hours to his other passion. Haggart joined the Bob Crosby Big Band, led by a brother of Bing Crosby, in 1935 and was a member of the smaller inner circle called the Bobcats. It was during breaks in their program that Haggart began to compose on the piano. His first composition was later recorded by Bing Crosby under the title of "What s 5 4 �The Music and Paintings of Bob Haggart iend who owns one e painting, I got one of my early sked me to bring first reaction was have many small lusic to me. My ionship by using This idea seemed I and added another nich often have a ametime the titles laggart At the turn of the century there was a great discussion among creative people about the inter­ relationship of all the arts. Struggling to break free from the bonds of representation, painters and sculptors looked with envy to their counterparts in music. Here was a medium totally free from the concrete world of the object. The inherently abstract quality of a musical composition created a parallel to the world of reality rather than a dependency on that world, as in the visual arts, for images with which to convey their meaning. The Russian modernist, Wassily Kandinsky, wrote about the link between music, literature, and the visual arts in his book, Concerning the Spiritual in Art. As a child, Kandinsky had been equally fascinated by painting and by music. He used musical terms such as melodic and symphonic to describe his own paintings, which he hoped would, like music, speak to the soul of a subject rather than simply describe the outer image. Similarly, Bob Haggart found himself torn between his two great loves, painting and music, when he had to choose a career. A student under Kimon Nicolaides at the Art Student’s League since high school, Haggart nevertheless chose jazz. This decision was prompted by his first gainful employment as a bass player for a band touring the Bahamas.1 Haggart never abandoned his painting, however, and throughout a busy and prominent career in music he has still devoted many hours to his other passion. Haggart joined the Bob Crosby Big Band, led by a brother of Bing Crosby, in 1935 and was a member of the smaller inner circle called the Bobcats. It was during breaks in their program that Haggart began to compose on the piano. His first composition was later recorded by Bing Crosby under the title of “What s New? and has since become a hit song for Linda Ronstadt. Haggart is perhaps best known for his “Big Noise From Winnetka" in which he whistles and picks the strings of his bass while a drummer plays on the strings. Another of Haggart’s originals is the wellknown "South Rampart Street Parade." Haggart has worked with many famous singers including Perry Como and Frank Sinatra. In 1968 Haggart and trumpeter Yank Lawson organized the World's Greatest Jazz Band which featured some of the legendary players in jazz. Even as Haggart’s reputation as a musician brought him public notice and fame, he continued, privately, to paint. Not only during his more quiet winters in San Miguel, Mexico, but also on the road and while at home in New York City, Haggart is always at work on a few paintings. Although he has experimented with a variety of techniques, such as the post-impressionist squares of color in Provence and the Cezanne inspired Take Five, Haggart has achieved a distinctive style marked by strong, well-structured compositions and a brilliant use of color. The two art forms, music and painting, are further united when he titles his pictures after a musical composition. More easily adapted to still-life than to landscape, some titles include: Take Five, Stealing Apples, Apple Honey. Horse's Tail Blues, and Melon Time in Dixie Land. Not restricting himself to jazz tunes, Haggart also names his images after classical music — Love for Three Oranges, Prokofiev, and Pop — Days of Wine and Roses (by Henry Mancini). Haggart’s paintings have long been admired. His works are in numerous private collections in this country, Mexico, and Canada. However, the priorities of his musical career have not allowed him the time to 5 �■M cz ■■Ml Checklist of the I I organize and exhibit his paintings. This exhibition is the first significant opportunity to view over forty of his works in one gallery. Although Haggart's images are more realistic in nature than those of Kandisky, they are similarly interpretations of the visual world. Heightened color, unusual perspective and refined shapes draw the images away from a specific time and place and make them open to fresh examination and interpretation as in a piece of music. Rarh<T than rnir.ir. b.-ing : painting, perhaps for Hoggart, pahitt.-.g to understand music. All dirnt-n . on , .b1 >n inc The New York Paintings Judith H. O’Toole Direr lor I. Variations 1976 ■1 The. European Paintin; I W ///; i/j, • 10 Proierr c 1969 Oil on canvas, 24 i Oil on canvas, ’>() • 40 I Th.-, and other biographical cdarrmr > .. .. by Mary Lm Hester for The M, .e-.-.i;.;.: pj., , J...... •'”‘3 f>> rin 193 Ij |h ?. Koi 1 I. View of Morttrnjrtn Bae, 1967 Oil on canvas, 16 7, "’ll T.l-flld, 1968 Oil on < .inv.r., height prec edes width. AV 1 x 27 12 Cite Moder nc. 19f Oil on canvas, 25 3. Tii’iif Yoik Inlerioi. 1970 < III on < anva... .‘A >. 14 Collection Mrs. Rota-it H .in 4. Th-ui York Interior. II. 1970 Oil on canva 24 x 30 13. (.b- k Tower in U9 1982 Oil on canvas boa 5. I ii-.l Ruif'r, 'jii.’fri-.!. ;/<• 1972 Oil on canva ., 23 z 26 14. < I'j'k Tower tn A' 1982 Oil on canvas boa 6. r.rj'.l Rioi-r I ookinrj c Trihoro 1972 Oil on canvas, 28 x 24 7. Kooseue/t Island, 1969 Oil on canvas, 16 x 24 8. Churr h on 42nd Streel, 1983 Oil on canvas, 16 x 20 9. Sunday Morning on 43rd Street, 1983 Oil on canvas, 16 z 12 15. Ctor 1 Touerir ?/ 1982 Oil on canvas bos The Mexican Paintinj 16. /gfesij Atotorui- s, or. ' i- _ i 7. DllSpWe, :a !.• :■_ :4 Rain/. 1983 Oi: or. canvas 20 �Checklist of the Exhibition : being a way to better understand r Haggart, painting is a better way Judith H. O’Toole Director hical information was provided by an article The Mississippi Rag (December 1983). All dimensions in inches; height precedes width. All works for sale unless otherwise indicated. The New York Paintings 1. Variations on a VW Theme, 1976 Oil on canvas, 30 x 40 2. Rooseuelt Island, East Riuer, 1968 Oil on canvas, 21 x 27 3. New York Interior, 1970 Oil on canvas, 24 x 34 Collection Mrs. Robert Haggart 4. New York Interior, No. Il, 1970 Oil on canvas, 24 x 30 5. East River, Queensboro Bridge, 1972 Oil on canvas, 23 x 26 6. East Riuer Looking at Triboro, 1972 Oil on canvas, 28 x 24 7. Rooseuelt Island, 1969 Oil on canvas, 16 x 24 8. Church on 42nd Street, 1983 Oil on canvas, 16 x 20 9. Sunday Morning on 43rd Street, 1983 Oil on canvas, 16 x 12 The European Paintings 10. Provence, 1969 Oil on canvas, 24 x 36 11. View of Montmartre, Rue de Bac, 1967 Oil on canvas, 16 x 14 12. Cite Moderne, 1967 Oil on canvas, 25 x 20 13. Clock Tower in Waiblingen, I, 1982 Oil on canvas board, 10x8 14. Clock Tower in Waiblingen, II, 1982 Oil on canvas board, 10x8 15. Clock Tower in Waiblingen, III, 1982 Oil on canvas board, 10x8 18. Las Casas de Atotonilco, 1983 Oil on canvas, 16 x 20 19. Capilla Vieja, Old Chapel, 1983 Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 20. Vista de la Aldea, (View from our house), 1981 Oil on canvas, 24 x 24 21. Atardecer de San Miguel, (San Miguel Sunset), 1977 Acrylic on canvas, 18 x 22 22. Templo de San Francisco, 1977 Acrylic on canvas, 18x14 23. Las Ninas Tristes, 1982 Oil on canvas, 20 x 24 24. Calle de San Miguel, 1981 Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 The Mexican Paintings 25. La Poerta de la Hacienda, 1979 Oil on canvas, 16 x 20 16. Iglesia Atotonilco, 1983 Acrylic on canvas, 22 x 18 26. La Samaritana, 1982 Oil on canvas, 24 x 16 17. Duspues la Lluuia, (After the Rain), 1983 Oil on canvas, 20 x 24 27. Parque Juarez (French Park), 1978-79 Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 Collection Mr. and Mrs . Henry Haegg �The Still-Lifes 34. Baby Face, 1983 Oil on board, 14x18 28. Composition for Brass, 1975 Oil on canvas, 29 x 26 29. Tangerine, 1982 Oil on canvas, 12x16 30. Take Flue, 1975 Oil on canvas, 14x18 31. The Old Master Painter, 1981 Oil on canvas, 12x16 32. Stealing Apples, 1981 Oil on board, 8x10 33. Strange Fruit, 1982 Oil on canvas, 14x18 35. Rosey Apples, 1983 Oil on board, 14x18 36. Loue for Three Oranges, Prokofiev, 1983 Oil on board, 14 x 18 37. Red Onion Blues, 1982 Oil on board, 14 x 18 38. Tea for Two, 1982 Oil on board, 14 x 18 39. Apple Honey, 1982 Oil on board, 12 x 16 40. Days of Wine and Roses, 1983 Oil on board, 12 x 16 41. Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries, 1983 Oil on board, 12 x 16 42. A Tisket A Tasket, A Little Yellow Basket, 1982 Oil on board, 16 x 20 43. Melon Time in Dixie Land, 1983 Oil on board, 16 x 20 44. Red Grapes, 1983 Oil on board, 14 x 18 ^983^ ‘n ^emon and Bme, Oil on board, 14 x 18 46. Horse's Tail Blues, 1983 Oil on board, 14 x 18 �t a Bowl of Cherries, ird, 12 x 16 A Tasket, A Little sket, 1982 ird, 16 x 20 e in Dixie Land, 1983 ird, 16 x 20 ■s, 1983 ird, 14x18 ny Lemon and Lime, ird, 14 x 18 il Blues, 1983 rd, 14 x 18 11 16. Iglesia Atotonilco, 1983 Acrylic on canvas, 22 x 18 ����i I i I■ - .s 1933 0.1 o' board. 14 x 18 13 ����1D0017B43B HUKES COLLEGE LIBRARY I �� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/e4453a71e8b2f921529195e24a5c6e5b.pdf 9b76b9e96293c3497937aea31136acec PDF Text Text �������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 March 11 Bob Haggart: Paintings Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Bob Haggart Andrew J. Sordoni III Bob Haggart Judith H. O'Toole Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 March 11 - April 8 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/204db4699cc0ff9845135368cb05cc08.pdf 462c849a978c4e60a60055def926b3c6 PDF Text Text �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 April 15 Simca and Parasol: Two Presses/Two Processes Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Baily Me lBochner Ralph Humphrey Barry LeVa Sol LeWitt Robert Mangold BriceMarden Susan Rothenbery Robert Ryman Julian Schnabel Jennifer Bartlett Mel Bochner Johnathan Borofsky JasperJohns Alex Katz Mark Lancaster Brice Marden Robert Markowitz Elizabeth Marray Larry Rivers Joel Shapiro Lizbeth Marano Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 April 15 - May 13 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/f416f2099b5dcd9b73e84eef712f42b1.pdf d946c5978b7ea68fdabab93619d9df6f PDF Text Text ���� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 June 24 Two from Wilkes-Barre Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource John Ramsey Betsy Fulton Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 June 24 - July 22 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource John Ramsey and Betsy Fulton are both Wilkes-Barre natives whose contributions to the art world are immense in and of themselves. Ramsey, a painter, and Fulton, a printmaker have affected their collective fields vastly. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/844bfe6590c17c9f22f4839aeadb6163.pdf 663f3644b0e787996329c5fad9bbba57 PDF Text Text ��� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1984 August 26 A Survey of American Art 1815-1980 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rembrant Paule Jacob Eichholtz Gilbert Stuart Robert Solomon Thomas Hinckley William Sonntag Max Weber John Singer Sargent Fredrick Carl Frieseke Kaniyoshi Marsden Hatley LeonKelly konrad Cramer OscarBluemner Paul Cadmess PhilipEvergood Aurthor Dove Francis Speight Thomas Hast Benton Waldo Peirce Milton Avery Lennart Anderson John Koch David Levine Hobson Pittman Moses Sayer Jerome Paul Witkin Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1984 August 26 - September 23 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource This survey on American Art spans from 1815 to 1980. It includes some pieces from movements such as Dada, Abstract Expressionism, and Modernism. It is on loan from the Pennsylvania State University's Museum of Art. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/9cbf6327527ddf51fb0ba738c00e5a57.pdf 42e1770a97db4ef1d8a09367477bea8e PDF Text Text ����� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1985 Theodore Earl Butler: Emergence from Monet's Shadow Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Theodore Earl Butler Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1985 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Following in the footsteps of artists like Monet, Theodore Earl Butler made his name as an impressionist and post-impressionist painter. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived R.H. Love Galleriies, Inc. https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/909767f9477a215eabe9681e405563ff.pdf 4ef7dad72f4d43c8166e25f5d1901915 PDF Text Text ���� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1985 January 13 Wilkes College Arts Faculty Exhibition Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mark Cohen Dennis Deane Bernice D'Vorzon Richard A. Fuller Herbert B. Simon William H. Sterling Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1985 January 13 - February 3 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource The 1985 Wilkes College Art Faculty Exhibition included artists the like of Mark Cohen, Richard A. Fuller, and William H. Sterling. This exhibition spanned across multiple mediums including painting and sculpture Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/58304fe82507bded7dd2cccabf569602.pdf 96240476fba642525467ab78f8e7f732 PDF Text Text ���������������������������������� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/42c6ed296966aeb48c314551ce90c2b8.pdf db296f754e2559016b56e63cf7b0ad86 PDF Text Text irlheNew ExpressiveLandscape I I-' I April 21 through May 19,1985 r r - rdoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College 50RD GA ND1351.6I S66N48 < il �! The New ExpressiveLandscape April 21 through May 19,1985 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes College t Exhibition selection and essay by William H. Sterling Exhibition organized by Judith H. O'Toole I 5 Funded in part by a grant from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts. E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, FA 1 �Lenders to the EAibitton Introduction It is surprising how we so easily take landscape painting for granted considering that, in the context of the whole of art history, it is a relatively new concern of artists. Painting and sculpture began as a form of communication as much as a form of decoration. Until comparatively recent times, landscape elements were used in art only as a backdrop for the unfolding of human drama. Abstracted botanical motifs were used in Greek vase painting to set the scene for great battles and important historical or mythological moments. All throughout European art history’ landscape themes — mountains, trees, clouds — are the stage settings for historical and religious events. In fact, great artists such as Rubens would delegate the painting of background landscapes to their apprentices because it was not the important part of the picture. Even the great Dutch landscapists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were interested in recording specific geographical places rather than in responding to or interpreting the natural world. True, the seventeenth r c; /E5 2 century Frenchmen, Poussin and Lorraine, created huge, lush landscapes which dwarfed the figures of their central theme, but the great expanses were lifeless, idealized and sentimental. It was not until the nineteenth century that the evocative aspect of nature was explored by western artists on both sides of the Atlantic. It was then that an emphatic shift began and landscape was used to express internal rather than external phenomena — emotions, ideas, perceptions. William H. Sterling has recognized an important new movement in contemporary painting which concerns landscape. I am grateful to him for his careful selection of the artists represented here and for his insightful comments in the following essay. As always I am grateful to the artists and lenders involved in the exhibition and to the Pennsylvania Council of the Arts for its support. Judith H. O'Toole Director Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York Sharpe Gallery, New York Brooke Alexander, Inc., New York Mr. and Mrs. Sid Singer CDS Gallery, New York SoHo 20 Gallery, New York Berenice D'Vorzon Ann Taylor Fabric Workshop, New York and Philadelphia Edward Thorp Gallery', New York Ingber Gallery, New York Vanderwoude Tananbaum Gallery Kraushaar Galleries, New York Bette and Herman Ziegler Robert Miller Gallery, New York �:tion o easily take landscape painting at, in the context of the whole of new concern of arfcsrs. «gan as a form of s a form of decoration. Until s, landscape elements were used >r the unfolding of human al motifs were used tn Greek ne for great battles and thological moments. All listory landscape themes — - are the stage settings for nts. In fact, great artists such the painting of background tices because it w as not the re. dscapists of the seventeenth ■ere interested in recording s rather than in responding to world. True, the seventeenth century Frenchmen, Poussin and Lorraine, created huge, lush landscapes which dwarfed the figures of their central theme, but the great expanses were lifeless, idealized and sentimental. It was not until the nineteenth century that the evocative aspect of nature was ex-plcred by western artists on both sides of the Atlantic. It was then that an emphatic shift began and landscape was used to express internal rather than external phenomena — emotions, ideas, perceptions. William H. Sterling has recognized an important new movement in contemporary' painting which concerns landscape. I am grateful to him for his careful selection of the artists represented here and for his insightful comments in the following essay. As always I am grateful to the artists and lenders involved in the exhibition and to the Pennsylvania Council of the Arts for its support. Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York Sharpe Gallery, New York Brooke Alexander, Inc., New York Mr. and Mrs. Sid Singer CDS Gallery, New York SoHo 20 Gallery, New York Berenice D'Vorzon Ann Taylor Fabric Workshop, New York and Philadelphia Edward Thorp Gallery, New York Ingber Gallery, New York Vanderwoude Tananbaum Gallery, New York Kraushaar Galleries, New York Bette and Herman Ziegler Robert Miller Gallery, New York Judith H. O'Toole Director 3 �1. Gregory Amenoff Pre-jige (On Loop Road), 1983 Oil on canvas, 55 x 60 Collection Mr. and Mrs. Sid Singer 4 3- Louisa Chase Storm, 1982 Oil on canvas, 72 x 72 Collection Bette and Herman Ziegler �■ •r 5 �The New ExpressiveLandscape ■ ..zs ivc?: a visible renewal of : .—..'and inspiration, by - ■ •. <'.ssicc rather than ..re to capture some of the ■. and logistical parameters, ?. established American ■ landscape appears to be both the :of strongly evocative a-; assertively avant-garde, while —. dc—i styles. In all of them, : -1 vision and a profound .. . ~.ult only in the sense that there .? painters of landscape, and so : - - -a personal choices. IVc wish to : : artists, collectors, and :: for this exhibition. The ■ . -i the Pennsylvania Council •, "i st grateful. u !h:n nature." . ■ 1-1 <s-Barrenative rd the world of the ' ■ . . ast and often ddwww. <_*tim wm primarily a portraitist, but ■ ' ' toward : . -ri ■ •• ' ■ ’' ’ ’ ■ r ‘ - ’ '■ ■ : .: 'i kj, 1 ranz ’ ... ... ( ntury |al,.r e one of the leaders oi the New Ifork Khool of - r ’' ■ : ■ ■ ‘ ‘ ‘ J i.,';, f;.< of i-i,i<vd The point we are stressing is that few American painters of prominence have been uninspired, to some degree, by the landscape. In the nineteenth century, American painting was coming of age at the very time landscape w'as emerging as a preeminent theme in the Romantic movement (not only in the visual arts but in music and literature as well). Nature's vast repertory of dramatic, exotic, and mysterious images reflected the Romantic spirit in all its facets, from the spiritual to the sensual, the pastoral to the demonic. The Hudson River School, the Luminists, Allston, Cole, Homer, and Inness - almost every prominent name in the 19th century American art is profoundly linked to the landscape tradition. Toward the end of the century, the Realists and the Impressionists charted a new course toward more objective interpretations of the physical world, while the Romantic spirit veered into territory of a more deeply psychological kind, giving rise to the Symbolist and Expressionist movements. In Europe, painters such as Van Gogh and Gauguin, and in America Ryder and Eilshemius, announced this important shift which fed directly into the stream of twentieth century Modernism. Many forms of abstraction, in fact, arose out of landscape imagery. Kandinsky, Mondrian, and the Americans Arthur Dove and Georgia O'Keeffe, artists who created some of the first non-objective works in Modern art, had been primarily painters of landscape. The evocative and unpredictable aspects of nature have always made it an ideal foil for human feelings. In America during the twenties and thirties, painters as diverse as Marin, Hartley, Burchfield, and Hopper found their voice in the landscape. Whether we call them Expressionists, Surrealists, or something else, these artists openly shaft' an empathy with nature. In the fifties, many of the Gorky among them — drew much of their energy and inspiration from nature. Although we don't call them landscapists as such, these artists perpetuated America's long devotion to that spirit. The subsequent rise of Pop Art. Color Field Painting, Minimalism, Conceptualism, and other fashions marked a decided turn toward other concerns in the sixties and seventies. The only significant avant-garde movement -i-1- j — —j------ ->during • . .. ............................ associated with ilandscape that period belonged to the sculptors of Earthworks, who employed the actual (and sometimes inaccessible) landscape as their medium. Toward the end of the seventies, a new force appeared in the art world, bringing with it a context in which landscape could once again flourish. Usually called Neo-Expressionism, this force has become the pervasive fashion of the eighties, even as it revives many of the characteristics of earlv twentieth century art. * * * The foregoing overview of past American landscape painting is, of course, grossly simplified. The pluralistic character of contemporary art does not allow for easy generalizations, either. Individualism reigns healthily supreme in Modern art. Because landscape, as a subject, has different meanings and purposes for different artists, little homogeneity can be expected at the individual level. Nevertheless, the artists in this exhibition do have in common their basic historical circumstances, as painters working in America in the 1980's and as artists very much aware ot their artistic heritage. These are inescapable factors which, in various conscious and unconscious ways u'fluence their perceptions and attitudes. Certain fieiieralizations, then, may be extracted from the variety u hich confronts us. One thing immediately nt of typical pre-twentieth cen infrequency of panoramic v Most of the artists here foct a few rocks, a cluster of tree sharing an intimacy with th spirit of identity between ar work. As Louisa Chase rect storms, "During the proces — yet not lost. An amazing remaining totally conscious Landscape becomes virtt paintings, embodying emo which we can empathize. I work: I am trying to removt avoiding distancing tot sometimes impacting t undermine the natural and the viewed. I wan physical than looking, specific feelings in thei position in relation to t idea is to suck the view space, to other physics viewer back to themse are a body primarily. 1 alienation. In my work so I'm starting with th The mystery and potenc usually felt most strongly . a degree of removal from t necessarily a total transfer landscapists seen here ret: �I cpressive Landscape £ ■wt tew »n Mt the « rrn. -,jT7. -t - • - c>. . : . snj\-,r;v . -t-im •' ihcmt " .he T» n the arts but in □n >. turr «■ x*st rc’ix’r .mr . : eb 1 .-. „ -pint y -int he scr.-' .c th. «c TWHuds.' Rn'erScb v H >m« .-’w ’r.cwss — t :r tm . rtor Arftb-ncrtri he lanctM'^pv trac :■ - kt uWry theReafiats and the : a new ;. *r. : aacrrn tatiors .a the r ‘ ■ e the k _ " . • :am.-re-’ -pL MjAj^gjEiltand, pnaf’ntt ti ■»,< r-vr'.tx ~"d m.nrmrrits ir : ; •’.teras Gq0tand and tri vder er d fitohMM «wn-un.»-c tn& i-f.iit whkn led dbadh'wto ttor-stream ■ • . MayimataMtracon*. intact, arose kWMTf fiaaafcad'JLMrrnrin r~, *ndtiw -■'paCHtadfe. Yu Hl-' ~ Artnur thrtew«eu»si.o«-iwr a .>■»’ :• M .c.-r- an hid prwjfiir z ,ar»ds:ape B®^Hwi>®a,®andunp«*d»ctibk I r .■ ’ d»w» ---a- r ar- »*■«; i.■'{.t, -» > untan feeling • In—’-’' ar,dtturtw- puMwh, Hartlry *ut-:hf«rid *r»d H< ppe: i-cidth' r . . . ; WWlcrwcan them £ .pres-.e . ■ ■■, 'JttWiittofcriy «rt.£’-. 'h ’ ’’ i- , • (,,*, j-y14a»jv -.4*t :k\ among them — drew much of their energy and i nation from nature. Although we don't call them -,J-<apL-ts as such, these artists perpetuated America’s . ng devotion to that spirit. The subsequent rise of Pop Art, Color Field Painting, • nimalism, Conceptualism, and other fashions marked a j Jed turn toward other concerns in the sixties and \rnties. The only significant avant-garde movement .. «iated with landscape during that period belonged to wulptors of Earthworks, w'ho employed the actual rd sometimes inaccessible) landscape as their medium, .ard tiie end of the seventies, a new force appeared in art world, bringing with it a context in which landscape uld once again flourish. Usually called Neo-Expressionism, i- >rce has become the pervasive fashion of the eighties, n as it revives many of the characteristics of early s iitieth century' art. Tr ☆ it h- foregoing overview of past American landscape '.ting is, of course, grossly simplified. The pluralistic trader of contemporary art does not allow for easy ■ '■ ralrzations, either. Individualism reigns healthily -preme in Modern art. Because landscape, as a subject, o different meanings and purposes for different artists, ' - homogeneity can be expected at the individual level, tvertheles-i, the artists in this exhibition do have in ■' on their basic historical circumstances, as painters •Wk ng m America in the 1980’s and as artists very much ■ .! thi-ir artistic heritage. These are inescapable *' f b, in various conscious and unconscious ways, t .. p< r( options and attitudes. Certain ■gjrahzatjuns then, may be extracted from the variety ■ ■ i,ii ms us One thing immediately noticeable to anyone who thinks of typical pre-twentieth century landscapes is the infrequency of panoramic views in our present works. Most of the artists here focus on fragments of nature — a few rocks, a cluster of trees, or a bank of clouds — sharing an intimacy with those things. There is even a spirit of identity between artist and nature in much of this work. As Louisa Chase recorded while painting one of her storms, "During the process, 1 do become the storm — lost — yet not lost. An amazing feeling of losing myself yet remaining totally conscious."2 Landscape becomes virtually animate in many of these paintings, embodying emotional and physical forces with which we can empathize. Deborah Kass remarks of her work: I am trying to remove distance in my work. By avoiding distancing tools (like perspective) and sometimes impacting the space, I am seeking to undermine the natural separation between the viewer and the viewed. I want the experience to be more physical than looking. I want the viewer to have specific feelings in their body — to be aware of their position in relation to the activity in the painting. The idea is to suck the viewer into another subjective space, to other physical feelings in order to return the viewer back to themselves with an awareness that they are a body primarily. 1 have equated distance with alienation. In my work I’m trying to find a way back, so I'm starting with the body. I'he mystery and potency of nature expressed here are usually fell most strongly at close range. I hey also involve a degree of remot al from topographical reality, but not necessarily a total transformation. Many of the landscapists seen here retain a strong sense of place in f fi I ■ i ■ f �their works. As Berenice D'Vorzon says of her Louse Point" painting, "Very often my works refer to specific places . . . but it is a particular or an all pervasive experience that I respond to at these places." Ben Frank Moss describes the origin of "Silver Trees:" All of my work is based on a memory — a recollection of an impression. Although my mind holds very specific settings and visual material, I don t set about to illustrate what is already realized in my mind. Rather a work develops on its own terms. It's only after the completion of the work that I am reminded of someplace I've lived or traveled. The painting "Silver Trees" was so named because it reminded me of a grove of beautiful trees I remember visiting and being amazed by almost daily. These remarkable trees were on a grand scale with milky white trunks and leaves that were green on top and white on the under-side. When the wind blew the whole tree would become an atmosphere of light — like flickering silver. I didn't set out to paint this subject and the titled work at best is an echo of what I would like to believe was in part the source — the subconscious attachment to something that repeatedly moved me. In any case the painting was born in the studio miles away from those trees as well as years after we had left the beauty of that place by the Little Spokane River. Less tranquil phenomena of nature are also associated with the Expressive Landscape. Storm clouds and churning seas, for example, as already described by Louisa Chase and Deborah Kass, are spectacles which never fail to arouse awe or excitement. They are natural mirrors of human passions, which become kinesthetically alive through the painter's manipulation of pigment and color. 8 As a matter of purposeful selection, none of the paintings ..................................................................... . os black sun and Gregory Amenoff's organic apparition in this group contains a human figure (except one), but the exemplify this approach, of which Ernest Silva has written: artists are still palpably present through their vision and My recent works continue to represent landscape style. in a language indebted to abstraction. (They) refer to One of the few artists among the Expressive stages, inhabitable spaces, objects as props, and to Landscapists who deals with the traditional panoramic the viewer, as potential participant. All of the work view is Eve Ingalls, who has written of her work: present themselves as the balance of conflicting forces. Trees move in dance-like rhythm, blown by strong In this landscape the only set of coordinates that winds and driven by internal force. Logs lie scattered holds for me is a body-based one. I have always been in the landscape, remnants of wounds inflicted by intensely aware of the vertical center of my body as an some agent that is now absent. Fires burn in a feverish active orienting device. Marking off left from right, up infinite moment. Figures are called forth by our from down, front from back, it helps me to grasp the awareness of their absence or presence as the shadowy cardinal points and to transform space into place. witness to these scenes. The objects are, at once, This vertical has been projected onto the canvases, toy-like and malevolent. They invite playful appearing as the crack between the panels which examination, but lead to the conclusion that the divide each drawing. These strong verticals challenge moment is suspended in potential drama. and experience the strains, the tugs, the tears that the discontinuities of time and space force across the This drama becomes truly Surrealistic in the case of Cheryl surface of the canvas. Laemmle's "Red Spruce." She creates a veritable icon, I often feel that I am standing in the midst of a where the centered subject is protected from secular modern sublime, marked by a vast and unbounded ___by j_________ intrusion a real fence,;_________________ attached to the canvas like an landscape. This landscape almost overwhelms and, in altar rail. The virgin spruce stands in its own hortus so doing, works to stretch the mind and body beyond conclusus. But the bizarre incongruity of the child's wagon their normal capacity; It 'gives us courage to measure and the vaguely naif style in which the entire scene is cast —■’—' transport the picture from religious metaphor to ourselves.' psychological allusion. These words could almost have been written by some The exact relationship of the artist to nature is never Transcendental landscapist in the nineteenth century. clear. The one picture here with a human figure is Vera Only the emphasis upon the self fixes them in the moder11 Element's, but her figure is not in the landscape; it is era. outside of it, as we are. It is apart from it in space, yet a part For many painters in this exhibition, the Expressive °f it in substance and energy. For Klement, the apartness is Landscape is an imaginary one, where nature may be Poignant: transmuted into a set of symbols, coded images of My paintings always have two parts, a comfortable particularly affecting visual experiences. Elena Sisto s resolution between them avoided. The landscape is never alone, b . . . the landsci always generii fields. They hi unattainable, alienation froi relation to a f i; Generalizations from works prodi most prevalent st) austere geometric Minimalism. The Photorealism and positions in that c Minimalism a pre mechanical techn: In reaction to th present generatio and physically ag the term Neo-Expi images of figures severe geometries texture, and prim of the artist as cle; as diverse as Amt employ such tech a debt to Expressi DeKooning and C One thing whic and the present g generated by Pop neon and Chase': rain draw upon tl �’Vorzon says of her "Louse n my works refer to specific lar or an all pervasive experience aces." Ben Frank Moss ter Trees:" ed on a memory — ression. Although my mind ngs and visual material, I don't hat is already realized in my ivelops on its own terms. It's >n of the work that 1 am ! I've lived or traveled. Frees" was so named because it : of beautiful trees I remember ted by almost daily. These >n a grand scale with milky s that were green on top and e. When the wind blew the ne an atmosphere of light — idn't set out to paint this ork at best is an echo of what I as in part the source — the nt to something that repeatedly the painting was bom in the those trees as well as years auty of that place by the Little I of nature are also associated ape. Storm clouds and , as already described by Louisa re spectacles which never fail to They are natural mirrors of :ome kinesthetically alive aulation of pigment and color. As a matter of purposeful selection, none of the paintings in this group contains a human figure (except one), but the artists are still palpably present through their vision and stvle. One of the few artists among the Expressive Landscapists who deals with the traditional panoramic Hew is Eve Ingalls, who has written of her work: In this landscape the only set of coordinates that holds for me is a body-based one. I have always been intensely aware of the vertical center of my body as an active orienting device. Marking off left from right, up from down, front from back, it helps me to grasp the cardinal points and to transform space into place. This vertical has been projected onto the canvases, appearing as the crack between the panels which divide each drawing. These strong verticals challenge and experience the strains, the tugs, the tears that the discontinuities of time and space force across the surface of the canvas. I often feel that I am standing in the midst of a modem sublime, marked by a vast and unbounded landscape. This landscape almost overwhelms and, in so doing, works to stretch the mind and body beyond their normal capacity; It 'gives us courage to measure ourselves.' These words could almost have been written by some Transcendental landscapist in the nineteenth century. Only the emphasis upon the self fixes them in the moder era. For many painters in this exhibition, the Expressive Landscape is an imaginary one, where nature may be transmuted into a set of symbols, coded images of , particularly affecting visual experiences. Elena Sisto s black sun and Gregory Amenoff's organic apparition exemplify this approach, of which Ernest Silva has written: My recent works continue to represent landscape in a language indebted to abstraction. (They) refer to stages, inhabitable spaces, objects as props, and to the viewer, as potential participant. All of the work present themselves as the balance of conflicting forces. Trees move in dance-like rhythm, blown by strong winds and driven by internal force. Logs lie scattered in the landscape, remnants of wounds inflicted by some agent that is now absent. Fires burn in a feverish infinite moment. Figures are called forth by our awareness of their absence or presence as the shadowy witness to these scenes. The objects are, at once, toy-like and malevolent. They invite playful examination, but lead to the conclusion that the moment is suspended in potential drama. This drama becomes truly Surrealistic in the case of Cheryl Laemmle's "Red Spruce." She creates a veritable icon, where the centered subject is protected from secular intrusion by a real fence, attached to the canvas like an altar rail. The virgin spruce stands in its own hortus conclusus. But the bizarre incongruity of the child s wagon and the vaguely naif style in which the entire scene is cast transport the picture from religious metaphor to psychological allusion. The exact relationship of the artist to nature is never dear. The one picture here with a human figure is Vera Ament's, but her figure is not in the landscape; it is outside of it, as we are. It is apart from it in space, yet a par 0 it in substance and energy. For Klement, the apartness is Poignant: My paintings always have two parts, a comfortable resolution between them avoided. The landscape is never alone, but in relation always to another object . . . the landscapes can provide many roles. They are always generic, not specific places. They are usually fields. They have to do with the distant, the unattainable, the longing for the unattainable, and the alienation from the longed-for place. When it is in relation to a figure, it refers also to Expulsion. ☆ * ☆ Generalizations about artistic style may also be drawn from works produced in a particular era. In the 1970's, the most prevalent style among progressive artists was that austere geometric mode called, in its most extreme forms, Minimalism. The seemingly very divergent movements of Photorealism and Conceptualism also held strong positions in that decade; nevertheless, they shared with Minimalism a preference for cool detachment and almost mechanical technique. In reaction to those ascetic qualities, many artists of the present generation have turned to more hotly emotional and physically aggressive manners (now collected under the term Neo-Expressionism). Brashly painted or sculpted images of figures and places have succeeded those clean, severe geometries of the last decade. Garish color, clotted texture, and primitive drawing reveal the emotional pulse of the artist as clearly as they do his energetic hand. Artists as diverse as Amenoff, Campbell, and Steir variously employ such techniques in their individual ways, but with a debt to Expressionist forebears like Hartley and Marin, or DeKooning and Guston. One thing which has interceded between those masters and the present generation is the "vulgar" aesthetic first generated by Pop Art. Silva's "cartoon" trees outlined in neon and Chase's "comic book" clouds spitting day-glo rain draw upon the images projected in mass media as 9 I - ■ •- �much as they do upon earlier art. Perhaps the most extreme use of Pop Culture aesthetics appears in Jedd Caret's "Properties", where a deliberately amateurish technique has been manipulated into a perversely evocative image. The more austere values cherished in the seventies have not been entirely abandoned in our decade, however. Almost Minimalist simplicity remains a significant factor in the contemplative works of Warren Rohrer and Ann Taylor. Rohrer says that his abstract paintings are deeply indebted to the landscape response in their concerns for matters of air, light, and space. Certainly the processes of my work over the last ten to twelve years have paralleled the various processes that relate to the land, its appearance, how it is worked, seasonal changes, and most of all are responses to that glow of the landscape which is so often hard to believe. My paintings have to do with hard, meticulous work, are nurtured by patience and accompanied by risk. In the work of the last several years the painting usually begins when a color idea is triggered by an experience — it could be as simple as placing a color in a blank. space or naming the color of a day. The painting germinates from that seed through layered shifts of color in its attempt to arrive at some altered state, a metaphor for that original bloom. No profuse or agitated style could satisfy this spirit. Geometry also persists. Rohrer's canvases are square. Taylor works on cylinders. Her rectalinear planes, like Sylvia Plimack Mangold's rectangular overlays, sufficient unto themselves for artists in the seventies, now act as rationalist foils to indeterminate nature. Eve Ingalls on the other hand, has retained something of a Photorealist's cool 10 and precise technique to express a similar dichotomy. But whether the style is cool or hot, precisionist or raw, the Expressive Landscape is invariably about a person's relationship with nature. ☆ ☆ ☆ Why has landscape returned as a force in contemporary art? A few years ago, some critics pronounced painting dead, in the belief that the medium had run its full course. Certainly landscape had been put through every conceivable permutation, or so it seemed. The easy answer to our query is that history circles upon itself. The human need for change and the equally human bent for nostalgia eventually uproot those interred styles and find new life in them. But more specific and contemporary motives may also be involved. It is often suggested that as man poisons and desecrates his natural environment to an unprecedented degree, the artist has been moved to portray it out of fear for its survival. This must certainly be true for some, especially those who adopt realistic and idealistic styles. But for the Expressive Landscapists, the fear may be for their own survival, not so much physically as psychologically and humanistically. It may be that they once again seek salvation in nature. William Sterling Qiairman, Department of Art Notes 1. Julien Levy, Arshile Gorky, New York, 1968, p.30. 2. The words of Louisa Chase and Eve Ingalls are drawn from exM’' catalogues produced by the Robert Miller Gallen- and Unn«’“ . Bridgeport, respectively. We are indebted to the other artists qu here for their remarks. s- Deborah Ka Stormy Weather, 1984 Oil on canvas. 70 x 100 Courtesy Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York �n earlier art. Perhaps the most ulture aesthetics appears in Jedd where a deliberately amateurish lanipulated into a perversely alues cherished in the seventies have idoned in our decade, however, nplicitv remains a significant factor in rks of Warren Rohrer and Ann Taylor, bstract paintings bted to the landscape response m matters of air, light, and space, resses of my work over the last ten to ! paralleled the various processes that its appearance,, how it is worked, , and most of all are responses to that tape which is sc often hard to ive to do with hard, meticulous d by patience and accompanied bv if the last several years the painting len a color idea is triggered bv an iuld be as simple as placing a color in anting the color of a day. The tes from that seed through layered :s attempt to arrive at some altered for that original bloom. 1 style could satisfy this spirit, ists. Rohrer's canvases are square, ders. Her rectalinear planes, like aid's rectangular overlays, sufficient rtists in the seventies, now act as terminate nature. Eve Ingalls, on the ied something of a Photorealist's cool $ 5 1 and precise technique to express a similar dichotomy. But whether the style is cool or hot, precisionist or raw, the Expressive Landscape is invariably about a person's relationship with nature. ! 1 ’ATiv has landscape returned as a force in contemporary art? A few years ago, some critics pronounced painting dead, in the belief that the medium had run its full course. Certainly landscape had been put through every conceivable permutation, or so it seemed. The easy answer to our query is that history circles upon itself. The human need for change and the equally' human bent for nostalgia eventually uproot those interred styles and find new life in them. But mere specific and contemporary motives may also be involved. It is often suggested that as man poisons and desecrates his natural environment to an unprecedented degree, the artist has been moved to portray it out of fear for its survival. This must certainly be true for some, especially those who adopt realistic and idealistic styles. But for the Expressive Landscapists, the fear may be for their own survival, not so much physically as psychologically and humanistically. It may be that they once again seek salvation in nature. William Sterling CJiairman, Department of Art Notes 1- Julien Levy, Arshile Gorky. New York, 1968, p.30. n The v.ords of Louisa Chase and Eve Ingalls are drawn from ex 1 oj catalogue! produced by the Robert Miller Gallery and Univy'5 Y , undgeport, respectively. We are indebted to the other artists q for their remarks. s ■■ e I fg ; 'i s- Deborah Kass Stormy Weather, 1984 Oil on canvas, 70 x 100 tourtesy Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York I 11 - �Checklist of the Exhibition All dimensions in inches unless otherwise noted. Height precedes width. ■ 1. Gregory Amenoff Presage (On Loop Road), 1983 Oil on canvas, 55 x 60 Collection Mr. and Mrs. Sid Singer 2. Gretna Campbell Arbor in Snow, 1984 Oil on canvas, 45 x 56 Courtesy Ingber Gallery, New York 3. Louisa Chase Storm, 1982 Oil on canvas, 72 x 72 Collection Bette and Herman Ziegler 4. Berenice D'Vorzon Louse Point Low, 1984 Watercolor, 22 x 30 Courtesy of the artist 7. Eve Ingalls Moving Through, 1984 Ink, graphite, acrylic on canvas, 80x60 Courtesy SoHo 20 Gallery, New York 8. Deborah Kass Stormy Weather, 1984 Oil on canvas, 70 x 100 Courtesy Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York 9. Vera Klement Far Away, 1983 Encaustic on canvas, 503/4 x 98 */z Courtesy CDS Gallery, New' York 10. Cheryl Laemmle Red Spruce, 1984 Oil, 84 x 56 Courtesy Sharpe Gallery, New York 5. Jedd Garet Properties, 1982 Acrylic on canvas, 5492 x 54x/z Courtesy Robert Miller Gallery, New York 11. Sylvia Piemack Mangold June 2,1984,1984 Pastel on paper, 19V2x30 CourtesyBrooke Alexander, Inc., 6. April Gomik Trees in a Storm, 1982 Oil on canvas, 60 x T2 Courtesy Edward Thorp Gallery New York 12. Ben Frank Moss Silver Trees, 1983 Oil on paper, 335/s x 273/.i V, 12 ?“XKl“shaa'G*ries- 13. Warren Rohrer Recollection, 1983 Oil on canvas, 60 x 60 Courtesy of CDS Gallery, New York 14. Ernest Silva Beneath Fiery Clouds, 1982 Oil on canvas, 48 x 60 Courtesy Vandenvoude Tananbaum Gallery, New York 15. Elena Sisto Landscape in a High Place, 1984 Oil on wood, diptych, 28 x 48 Courtesy Vanderwoude Tananbaum Gallery, New York 16. Pat Steir Calligraphy Screen, 1983 Silkscreen on linen mounted in wooden frame, 63 x 80 x 191 Courtesy Fabric Workshop, New York 17. Ann Taylor Boundless, 1984 Oil on canvas, 70 x 15 (diameter Courtesy of the artist 18. David True Cross China, 1983 Oil on canvas, 78 x 108 Courtesy Edward Thorp Galled New York 2- Gretna Campbell Arbor in Snow. 1984 Oil on canvas, 45 x 56 Courtesy Ingber Gallery, New York �• the Exhibition rwise noted. Height precedes width. 7. Eve Ingalls Moving Through, 1984 Ink. graphite, acry lic on canvas, 80x60 Conrtesv SoHo 20 Gallen', New York 8. Deborah Kass Stormy Weather, 1984 Oil on canvas, 70 x 100 Courtesy Baskerville Watson Gallery, New York 9. VeraKlement Far Au.au, 1983 Encaustic on canvas, 503i< x 981/2 Courtesy CDS Gallery, New York 10. Cheryl Laemmle Red Spruce, 1984 Oil, 84x56 Courtesy Sharpe Gallery', New York 11. Sylvia Piemack .Mangold lune 2,1984,1984 Pasteion paper, 19'wx30 Courtesy Brooke Alexander, Inc New York 12. Ben Frank Moss Silver Trees, 1983 Oil on paper, 33s,'6 x 273i4 Courtesy Kraushaar Galleries, New York 13. Warren Rohrer Recollection, 1983 Oil on canvas, 60 x 60 Courtesy of CDS Gallery, New York 14. Ernest Silva Beneath Fiery Clouds, 1982 Oil on canvas, 48 x 60 Courtesy Vanderwoude Tananbaum Gallery, New York 15. Elena Sisto Landscape in a High Place, 1984 Oil on wood, diptych, 28 x 48 Courtesy Vanderwoude Tananbaum Gallery, New York 16. Pat Steir Calligraphy Screen, 1983 Silkscreen on linen mounted in wooden frame, 63 x 80 x 191 Courtesy Fabric Workshop, New York 17. Ann Taylor Boundless, 1984 > OU on canvas, 70 x 15 (diameter; Courtesy of the artist 18. David True Cross China, 1983 Oil on canvas, 78 x 108 GalleryCourtesy Edward Thorp New York 2 Gretna Campbell Mor in Snow, 1984 Oil on canvas, 45 x 56 Courtesy Ingber Gallery, New York ��I 12 Ben Frank Moss Silver Trees, 1983 Oil on paper, 33^/hz 27 Courtesy Kraushaar Galleries, New York ■ 15 I �Caret Properties, 1982 Vni,conCanvas 5412 x 541, OUrtes.v Robert Miller Gallerj-, New V'rk �■ *} t -4; t ui-v.is, 54*7, X r>4’/? "■- , i’’> •.-. rt Milk j f I k-w York 17 i? ��id 'ry. New York April Gomik Trees in a Storm, 1982 Oil on canvas, 60x72 Courtesy Edward Thorp Gallery, New York 19 �Eve Ingalls Mown? Through. 1984 Ini graphite. acrylic on canvas, 80x60 C ourtesy Sol Io 20 Gallery. New York 10. Cheryl Laemmle /'• J Spruce. 1984 Oil, 84 x 56 Courtesy Sharpe Callery, ” llllllllllll IHllIlllllilHIlHilHilllilHIHIIili! �- _ - 10. Cheryl Laemmle Red Spruce, 1984 7. Eve Ingalls Moving Through. 1984 Ink, graphite, acrylic on canvas, 80 x 60 Courtesy SoHo 20 Gallery, New York Oil, 84x56 Courtesy Sharpe Gallery; New York niiiiiiiiiiiiiiimHhmimimiiimmmmmr ■ 21 �4 11. Sylvia Piemack Mangold June 2, 1984,1984 Pastel on paper, 1992 x 30 Courtesy Brooke Alexander, Inc., New York !-■» Elena Sisto Lt nd- cape in a High Place, 1984 Oil on wood, diptych, 28 x 48 Courtesy Vandcrwoude Tananbaurn Gallery, New York �23 �t“l fJavid True 'f'1 '.kina, 1983 Chhin can>a ,, 7k x V/k e '> Edward fhorp Galil:ry, "h-w York �IS David True C\x>- CAn.’j. 1983 Oil on canvas, 78 x 108 Courtesy Edward Thorp Gallery, NW York ��I 17. Ann Taylor Boundless, 1984 Oil on canvas, 70 x 15 (diameter) Courtesy of the artist me. Mx 89 k bl 'I •1 �SordoniArt Gallery Advisory Commission,1984-85 Andrew J. Sordoni, HI, Chairman Judith H. O'Toole, Director Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Deane Berger Richard E Charles Aleta Connell Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes College 150 South River Street Wilkes-Barre, PA 18766 (717)8244651, Ext. 388 Lou Conyngham Yvonne Eckman Charles Flack Gerald E. Hartdagen, Ph.D. Oscar Jones Charlotte Lord, Ph.D. Marilyn Maslow Arnold Rifkin Jill Evans Saporito Judith Schall Helen Farr Sloan William H. Sterling, Ph.D. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1985 April 21 The New Expressive Landscape Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Gregory Amenoff Greta Campell Louisa Chase Bernece D'Vorzon Jedd Garet April Gornik Eve Ingalls Deborah Kass Vera Klement Cheryl Laemmle Sylvia Plemack Mangold Ben Frank Moss Warren Rohser Earnest Silvia Elena Sisto Pat Stein Ann Taylor David Tress William Sterling Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1985 April 21 - May 19 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource New Expressive Landscapes is an homage to the new landscape painters of our time. Featured in this exhibition includes thrunderous portrayals of mountainscapes, vivacious sunsets, and other incredible depictions of the land. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/0c36d810f6b7862fa8525414ed8a4148.pdf 4986464ca2d57237330d4d7d464174a7 PDF Text Text �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1985 June 30 Gary Erbe: Magic Realist Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Gary Erbe David L. Shirey Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1985 June 30 - August 4 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Gary Erbe's paintings can be described as ethereal representations of magic realism. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program