I am busy painting views of Venice, a superb town as I have no need to tell you, but somewhat disguised by the usual painters of the area who have to some extent disfigured it by making it appear as a region warmed by the hottest suns...Venice on the other hand, like all luminous regions, is grey in colour, the atmosphere is soft and misty and the sky is decked with clouds just like the sky over Normandy or Holland -- E. Boudin to Durand-Ruel



Eugene Boudin (1824-1898)
Venise, le quai de la Giudecca
Signed, dated, inscribed 'E. Boudin Venise '95' lower right
o/c, 18 1/2" x 25 3/4"



E. Boudin
La plage de Trouville
watercolor over pencil on paper laid on board
6 1/2" x 10 1/4"

Young Dalyrample was sickly.


He invented a complex inner life.

These two paintings by the prolific artist known colloquially as Grandma Moses remind me of, and embody the feelings that I had of a trip to Old Rag mountain, near Sperryville, Virginia. The naive quality that immediately identifies the work as being by Grandma Moses evokes for me the simple, rural, and charming character of the area around Sperryville, with it's twisting farm roads, neatly tended farms, and ever present view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was a beautiful day and the clear late-afternoon sunlight amplified the tonalities of the greens, blues, and brown colors of the location. It seems that experience informs the appreciation of "naive" art.

Anna Mary Robertson (Grandma Moses), 1860-1961
She married Thomas Salmon Moses in 1887 and had 10 children. She painted her first painting in 1920; and began painting in earnest in 1927 after the death of her husband. Her pictures, which she exhibited at local fairs, depicted country scenes filled with people and executed in a naive manner. At exhibition of her work in a drugstore window in 1939 caught the attention of Louis J. Caldor, who introdued her work to Dr. Otto Kallir, director of Galeries St. Etienne in New York City. She executed about 1,600 pictures. The above painting, King Church, is listed as no. 1541 in the artist's inventory book. It was executed in August, 1952. The painting below, The Sycamore Farm, is recorded as no. 782 in the inventory book and was painted in July, 1944.

I've discovered that I have a burgeoning interest in nineteenth-century men's dress and have been learning the terminology for describing the relatively simple yet elegant clothing. For instance in this unidentified early nineteenth-century group portrait, the central figure wears a blue, short-waisted cutaway coat with long tails and wide lapels, a high-collared white linen shirt with de rigeur stock, and white trousers. The fashionable nature of his dress in comparison to the somber and conservative attire of the other sitters intrigues me. He appears to be the same age of the figure (a brother?) at left, who points to the Viceroyalty of Peru on the globe, and younger than the figure at right (the father?). Why is his dress so fashionable compared to that of the other two men? He must be the baby. We will call him "Chauncey."

The artist's depiction of the objets on the mantle and his/her adroit rendering of the mirror with a view of a well-stocked library, both of which convey a post-Enlightenment sense of cultivation and gentility, bring me back to the issue of the white trousers of the central figure (I have wish-listed Victoria Finlay's History of Color in which she documents the historical cultural significance of colors). Clean white trousers, or even white linen shirts, must have been a sign of wealth, cultivation, and elegance in the nineteenth century, and even today. To think how incredibly difficult it was to maintain the appearance of cleanliness with regard to white fabric in the nineteenth century?

I also like that the artist has priveleged the depiction of the elaborately patterned carpet over perspectival accuracy (the klismos chairs cling percipitously to the highly angled floor). Like so many of the intentional inclusions in the painting--the clothing, the globe, the objets, the books--the depiction of the carpet is more of a conveyor of economic, social, and cultural significance rather than an indicator of a realistically documented setting.

A Problem Picture: A Visit to the Haunted Chamber

One of the great perks of my job is that I get to scower decades worth of auction catalogues. I ran across this painting, which appealed to me for the tension created by the composition and the contrast created by the black dresses of the two figures and the yellow tonality of the room, including the oak floorboards and yellow bed dressing. The painting is entitled A Visit to the Haunted Chamber (click to enlarge) and depicts two elegantly, but conservatively, dressed women cautiously entering a room. A glimmer of light shines through a crack in the door hidden from the women's view, but which also attracts two errant rats. Although, one could relegate this painting to an artist's desire to create a tension in the work, I am reminded of the great interest in spirituality that occurred during the latter half of the nineteenth century, particularly following the Crimean War, the American Civil War and, later, the Great War. The personal result of those tragedies was that individuals who had lost loved ones in the conflicts sought refuge in the world of spirits, in particular, the belief in an afterlife and the ability of the deceased to communicate, via mediums or apparitions, to the living (the English also developed a tradition of fairy painting). I have yet to research the exhibition records of the work and any periodicals that commented on the picture, but am increasingly interested in the narrative implied in the work. With regard to the formal elements, I am drawn to the beautifully rendered embroidered bed dressings (although somewhat tattered) and the painting above the fireplace, which depicts a young girl in a salmon colored dress painted in the style of Sir Joshua Reynolds standing next to a stag. I have named the two women Shawna and Debbie.

William Frederick Yeames, R.A. (British, 1835-1918)
A Visit to the Haunted Chamber
o/c, 23 1/2" x 33 1/4"
signed and dated l. r. "W.F. YEAMES-1869-"
Exhibited: Royal Academy of Arts, London, 1870, no. 187; Royal Jubilee Exhibition, Manchester, 1887, no. 3 (lent by R.H. Knowles)
Literature: M.H. Stephen Smith, Art and Anecdote, pp. 160-61

Yeames was born in Taganrog in southern Russia, where his father was British Consul. He came to England at the age of thirteen and studied under the sculptor Richard Westmacott, then spent six years in Italy before settling in London and making his debut at the Royal Academy in 1859. He remained a regular contributor, becoming an Associate in 1866 and a full Academician in 1878. For many years he was a member of the St. John's Wood Clique, together with P.H. Calderon, H.S. Marks, G.D. Leslie, D.W. Wynfield, and G.A. Storey. This group concentrated on subjects of a historical nature and narrative paintings in which the story was revealed by close study of the actions and expressions of the subjects. In Yeames's work this technique evolved into the genre known as the "Problem Picture," in which the narrative of the image creates an unresolved dilemma or paradox for the viewer. In other words, the picture is deliberately intended to be enigmatic or open ended.

Yeames excelled in most types of painting, including portraits and landscapes, but he made his name with elaborate reconstructions of historical events, both real and imaginary. His most famous work, And when did you last see your father?, was exhibited at the Academy in 1878, and is in the collection of the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/walker/collections/lastseefather/lastseefatherlarge.asp?back=0).

Quercus virginiana

This morning the winds on the great river [St. John] were high and against me; I was therefore obliged to keep in port a great part of the day, which I employed in little excursions round about my encampment. The Live Oaks are of an astonishing magnitude, and one tree contains a prodigious quantity of timber....The trunk of the Live Oak is generally from twelve to eighteen feet in girt, and rises ten or twelve feet erect from the earth, some I have seen eighteen or twenety; then divides itself into three, four, or five great limbs, which continue to grow in nearly an horizontal direction, each limb forming a gentle curve, or arch, from its base to its extremity. I have stepped above fifty paces, on a straight line, from the trunk of one of these trees, to the extremity of the limbs. (90)

Les Incroyables and Les Merveilleuses

La Longue Paume des Champs Elises [sic]

This past spring I purchased a nineteenth-century "Directoire" or "Empire" print for $5 at a rummage sale at a frame shop. I'm still trying to locate information on the artist and publisher of the print (I know that it was included in a book, because I have seen one with a plate number). It is printed on laid paper and is beautifully hand-tinted, particulary evident in the scarlet coat in the foreground and the dove-grey trousers of the man at the right.

Based on the Empire line of the woman's dress and the tight, high waisted pants, simple stocks, and high conical hats piled in the foreground of the men suggest a date for the depiction to c. 1800. (The image at right, "Les Modernes Incroyables," provides a satirical look at male fashions from Caricatures Parisiennes, published in 1810. The original "Incroyables" were males who followed cutting-edge fashions in the 1790s; their female counterparts were the "Merveilleuses".)


The print depicts early-eighteenth century French aristocrats engaged in the game of Longue Paume, a version of lawn tennis, that is still played in the Picardy region of France today. According to a French website, Longue Paume is played outdoors on a long playing field and should not be confused with 'jeu de paume" or just "paume" which is played indoors. The objective of the sport is to let the ball "die" in the opponents' court, c'est à dire, to make the ball land in the opponents' court in such a way that they are unable to return it to the opposing side.

A history of tennis from the French perspective:

http://tcwisches.free.fr/histoiretennis.htm

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW

Why do we still have this at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, when we could have this.....

More to come later. I'm researching the German print of the Presidential Manse and can't wait to dive into the Mies van der Rohe Farnsworth House research.

School Leaving Portrait

Painted by Thomas Lawrence in 1799 as a "school-leaving" portrait, the romantic likeness of eighteen year old Andrew Reid (1783-1801) was painted during the artist's finest period in the 1790s when he was living at Greek Street in Soho. Shown in three-quarter length, the sitter wears a cutaway black coat, white vest, white stock (with red trim?), and tan trousers. He was the eldest son of Andrew Reid of Lionstown, Barnet, and his first wife Harriet Gildard. Andrew's father was a famous brewer of London stout who was the founder of Reid's Brewery on Liqourpond Street. Andrew's mother was granddaughter of Richard Gildart, who was twice mayor of Liverpool. Andrew entered Harrow school in 1793 and left in 1799, at which time this portrait was commissioned Lawrence executed a best-length portrait of the elder Reid, and a full-length portrait of Harriet. Andrew died in 1801 on board the Lady Jane Dundas bound for India.

Sir Thomas Lawrence, R.A.

Portrait of Andrew Reid, c. 1799

oil on canvas, 49" x 39 1/4"

Published in: Kenneth Garlick, Sir Thomas Lawrence (1989), p. 257, as no. 673

On Mottling.............

This past Sunday, I spent the day visiting the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Of all of the wonderful things that I saw, this sculpture by Paul Manship particularly caught my attention. Although I find the subject matter charming and like the idealized forms and stylized treatment of the work--Manship was interested in Near Eastern art, hence the Assyrian-inspried mane of the dog--I was especially enthralled with the beautiful brown-black-green mottled patina (evident most clearly on the hunter's thigh and rump-click on image for better viewing). I have seen many patinated surfaces. Some patinas are evenly applied and entirely opaque, others are evenly applied but create a somewhat waxy effect, and some are evenly applied, but then rubbed, exposing the bronze at areas of high relief on the surface. But I think that this kind of mottled artist applied patina (which I've seen on a medium-sized Renoir sculpture as well) is one of the most beautiful. It creates a rich varigated color surface and an appearance of translucency that is not possible with an all over opaque patina. Indian Hunter and His Dog was cast by the Alexis Rudier foundry in Paris and was maintained in the collection of the artist, which perhaps, affirms the particular high-quality of the piece, both in terms of its casting and patina.

Apparently there is another cast of this size at the Corcoran Gallery of Art, but I bet it's not out....

Paul Manship (American, 1885-1966)
Indian Hunter and His Dog, 1926
Marked: Alexis Rudier Fondeur Paris
23" x 23" x 7"
Smithsonian American Art Museum
One of 12 bronze casts of this size

On "Place"
I ran across this painting by the Italian artist Ludovico Marchetti (1853-1909) in an old auction catalogue. It's a typical nineteenth century genre scene executed by a second tier artist, whose most important claims to fame are that he apprenticed with the Spanish artist Mariano Fortuny (probably in Rome) and worked and exhibited at the Salon in Paris. I was attracted to this picture for several reasons, the most overwhelming being the artist's indication of place with a minimum of means. A simple visual reference to a canal and a glimpse of the prow of a gondola is all that is necessary for the informed viewer to instantly identify the location of the painting as Venice. There is a difference between "location" and "place." Location indicates a specific point on the earth's surface, relayed using a latitudinal and longitudinal reading. Place, on the other hand, involves the subjective experience of the cultural and geographical features of a particular location. These include architecture, flora and fauna, ethnic groups, cadence of language, cuisine, local customs, weather patterns, etc. Place is what we think about when we remember a location.

On attempting to discuss Venice, Henry James, acknowledges the redundancy of the object, stating, "Venice...It is a great pleasure to write the word; but I am not sure there is not a certain impudence in pretending to add anything to it...There is nothing left to discover." James does, however, add something, I think, to the discourse on Venice. He suggests that a visitor can only discover the true Venice--"place"--by becoming weary of its attractions and slowly absorbing the quotidian rhythms, senses, and sites of the city. "It is by living there from day to day that you feel the fullness of its charm; that you invite its exquisite influence to sink into your spirit...Tenderly fond you become; there is something indefinable in those depths of personal acquaintance that gradually establish themselves The place seems to personify itself, to become human and sentient, and conscious of your affection."

Returning to the picture, it is not the subtle implied narrative that attracted me, but rather certain formal elements, including the faded Pompeiian red of the hotel sign, the sheen of the woman's indigo bodice, the contrast of the gilding and ebony on the prow of the gondola, and the transparency of the turquoise waters of the canal. Of further interest to me is the handsome gentleman and his typical late nineteenth-century attire, including his bowler, the tawny kidskin gloves, and his tan spats, visible beneath the cuff of his pants. Spats are a shoe accessory that became fashionable in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They are stiff fabric covers that cover the top of the shoe and extend up the lower part of the leg, covering the ankle. Spats evolved from eighteenth century "spatterdashes" also known as gaiters that prevented water from getting into walking boots. They were worn by soldiers, farmers, and others who were exposed to rain and mud. Spats were usually white, tan, grey, or black.

Travels by William Bartram

...as I was never long satisfied with present possession, however endowed with every possible charm to attract the sight, or intrinsic value to engage and fix the esteem, I was restless to be searching for more, my curiosity being insatiable (54)

I am currently reading Travels by William Bartram. Bartram was the son of noted English botanist and naturalist John Bartram and was the first native-born American naturalist. In 1773, he was commissioned by the British botanist John Fothergill to undertake an expedition through the southeastern portion of the colonies of the Carolinas, Georgia, and northeastern Florida to locate and collect unknown and useful specimens of the "vegetable kingdom." His account of his travels is a compendium of thoughtful travel reportage, poetic musings on nature's sublimity, and an exuberant yet somewhat amateurish description of the terrain, flora and fauna, and European and native inhabitants of the region. Travels was published in Philadelphia in 1791 and became a huge international success. His evocative descriptions caught the fancy of armchair travelers, including the poets Chateaubriand, Coleridge, Emerson and Wordsworth. Interestingly, the introduction to the re-issuance of Travels was written by one James Dickey, author of that American classic Deliverance, which also documented, albeit in a more anthropological manner, the region traversed and discussed by Bartram.

On the American turkey, an especially "painterly" observation:
"I saw here a remarkably large turkey of the native wild breed; his head was above three feet from the ground when he stood erect; he was a stately beautiful bird, of a very dark dusky brown colour, the tips of the feathers of his neck, breast, back, and shoulders, edged with a copper colour, which in a certain exposure looked like burnished gold, and he seemed not insensible of the splendid appearance he made." (39)

On the setting sun:
"The glorious sovereign of day, clothed in light refulgent, rolling on his gilded chariot, hastened to revisit the western realms. Grey pensive eve now admonished us of gloomy night's hasty approach..." (65)

A link to the Library of Congress's copy of Travels: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/treasures/images/vc112.2p2.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/treasures/trr052.html&h=1103&w=640&sz=89&hl=en&start=4&tbnid=oy15xWD7xgV_FM:&tbnh=150&tbnw=87&prev=/images%3Fq%3D%2522william%2Bbartram%2522%26gbv%3D2%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den