 |
| Anders Zorn, Samuel Untermeyer, 1901, oil on canvas, 102 x 77 cm., New-York Historical Society |
The New York Historical Society a couple of blocks away
from me currently has a wonderful exhibit in honor of the 100th anniversary of the
provocative 1913 New York Armory Show that introduced Americans to Duchamp,
Matisse, Picasso, Cezanne, Gauguin and Van Gogh, and showcased their American contemporaries
who were also challenging the hierarchy of traditional realism in the art world
of the time. The Society’s exhibit includes 100 of the more than 1,000 artworks that were in the 1913 show, as well
as a lot of related historical material to put the exhibit in context. “This exhibition is an exploration of how the
Armory Show inspired seismic shifts in American culture, politics, and
society,” the museum proclaims. The 1913
“International Exhibition of Modern Art” was on view from February 17 until
March 15 at the 69th Regiment Armory on Lexington
Avenue between 25th and 26th Streets.
 |
|
George Bellows, The Circus, 1912, Oil on canvas, 33-7/8 x 44
in.
The Addison Gallery of American Art, Andover, MA |
One of the small group of American painters who helped
organize the Armory Show was George Bellows, who has a couple of paintings in
the current exhibit, including his 1912 work, The Circus, a large painting that
attracted me for what might seem like an odd reason to most people. The reason is that above the broadly painted
performers and spectators is a large
expanse of murky gray that is palpably atmospheric. It is an absolutely beautiful patch of
murk.
Bellows was a terrific bravura painter
in his early years, despite basing some compositions on a precise geometric
formula concocted by Hardesty Maratta, a painter who thought he had rediscovered
the Greek science of proportion through the multiplication and division of
geometric shapes like equilateral triangles.
That’s what they say, anyway.
Bellows apparently organized his spectator’s view of the circus
performers under the Big Top by driving small pins into the canvas to create a
geometric grid. The subject was a
charity circus organized by his wife, Emma, which proved to be a financial
flop, according to the Historical Society notes. “George got more out if it than anyone else,”
she said, as he was inspired to create two more circus paintings of the
event. All three paintings are in the
Addison Gallery of American Art in Andover, Massachusetts.
 |
|
Edward Willis Redfield (1869–1965), Overlooking the Valley,
1911, Oil on canvas, 31 7/8 x 39 5/16 in., Metropolitan Museum of Art
|
After the Armory Show portion of the exhibit there is a
gallery full of wonderful paintings done by other artists of that period,
including a gorgeous landscape by Edward Willis Redfield (1869-1965), a giant
figure in the world of plein air painting.
Redfield was a miracle worker. He
took his huge canvases (up to 50 inches) outdoors in every kind of weather and
completed his powerful, impressionistic landscapes on the spot in a few hours
with thick, juicy brushstrokes and brilliant color. What expressive feeling his works
convey. In 1947, Elise, his wife of 54
years, died, and shortly thereafter, when he was 78 years old, he burned a lot
of his canvases that weren’t up to his high standards. And from that point on he painted a lot less
often into the 1950s and took to making furniture and other crafts in his last
years. He made it to 96.
The New York Historical Society, founded in 1804, is the oldest
museum in the city. It has changed
greatly since the early 1980s, when I frequently roamed the dusty and
unpopulated galleries to look at its impressive collection of Hudson
River School
paintings, Audubon watercolors and the 19th Century plaster sculptures of Civil
War scenes and daily life executed by John Rogers, who was hugely popular in
his day. The museum is now a greatly
enhanced, modern museum with a fine store, a fancy restaurant and other modern
conveniences, including a slickly produced website. And there’s now a hefty $14 entrance
fee. I think it used to be free or a dollar
or two to get in. I can’t remember.
 |
|
Théobald Chartran (French, 1849 –1907), James Hazen Hyde (1876-1959),
1901, Oil on canvas. New York
Historical Society
|
Before I left the museum on a recent Sunday afternoon I went
to a long gallery on the first floor to look at yet another magnificent exhibit,
especially for this old lapsed portrait painter, a treasure trove of portraits from the
Gilded Age in the Historical Society’s collection done by artists such as John
Singer Sargent, James Carroll Beckwith, their teacher Carolus-Duran,
George Peter Alexander (G.P.A.) Healy, Daniel Huntington, Eastman Johnson, Léon
Bonnat, Bouguereau, Alexandre Cabanel, and Théobald Chartran. The Sargent wasn’t one of his best, but still
a pleasure to see.
 |
|
George Peter Alexander Healy (1813 –1894), Emma
Cecilia Thursby (1845-1931), 1879. Oil on canvas. New York Historical Society
|
Some years ago, I thoroughly
enjoyed reading the biography of the prodigious G.P.A. Healy, written by a
granddaughter. He enjoyed enormous fame as a portrait painter, supported a
large family, and endured many trials and tribulations along the way. He painted just about everybody you ever heard
of in the mid-19th Century, both in Europe and America. Well, that’s not quite true, but he produced
more portraits than any other artist of his day -- over 600. His last recorded words, uttered when his
eldest daughter asked him if he was comfortable as he lay dying, were, “Yes,
and happy -- so happy!”
And so was I, all by myself on a recent Sunday afternoon
at the New York Historical Society, finishing off my visit in grand style by spending a
lot of time with these superb portraits.
But the best was yet to come.
As I made my usual way around the long gallery, from left to
right, and was nearing the end of the exhibit, I came across the star of all
the paintings on any floor of the Historical Society that day. It was a breathtakingly lifelike portrait by
the incomparable Anders Zorn. His
portrait of the lawyer Samuel Untermeyer was absolutely brimming with
life. I took a seat on the bench
opposite for 10 to 15 minutes or more, transfixed by the magical power of oil
paint in the hands of a preeminent master of the medium. Of course other visitors to the exhibit
walked right by the Zorn with barely a glance at the label on the wall. How could they be expected to know what was signified here
if they hadn't created at least a tiny bit of this same magic themselves?
Yes, one Zorn was definitely more than enough!
