NC Wyeth - The Gold Standard in Illustration

I was at Chadd's Ford this weekend, paying a visit to the Wyeths. That would be N. C. Wyeth, greatest of American illustrators, and his legacy - his work, his home and studio, and his family, including son Andrew and grandson Jamie. It was a beautiful day in a beautiful part of the country, and the house and studio, in essence untouched from when the family was in residence, were fascinating. N. C. Wyeth was a giant in many ways - big man, big ideas, big talent, an outsized imagination that willed living, breathing worlds of adventure and excitement onto a flat painted surface. His studio, full of props, paints, and mementos, is basically untouched since the day in 1945 when he was killed by a train, just down the road, as he sat in his car pointing out sights to a young grandchild. His long smock coat hangs to one side of his work area in front of the north-facing window wall. The right sleeve is conventionally worn, but the left sleeve is still caked with paint where he wiped his brushes as he worked. At the back of the studio is the extension, built later to accommodate the mural panels he painted for a Philadelphia Insurance company - when the building was renovated the murals, an allegorical series telling the story of William Penn, were returned to the Wyeth foundation, so one sits in place as he would have painted it. On his smaller easel is a painting of a scene in George Washington's life, blocked out and colored, but unfinished.

It was a thrill to see original paintings and drawings for Treasure Island, Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, and other Scribner's classics in the museum. Even more so, once I learned that it was the contract for Treasure Island in 1911 that allowed Wyeth to buy and build the property where he would raise his lively family of 5 children, all but one of whom became an artist of one kind or another. Later, having coffee in a modern wing, looking out on the slow-moving Brandywine River, we debated how well known N. C. Wyeth is to a general American audience - probably not enough. Andrew, his son, is far better known - he was a very accomplished if less expansive artist - and Norman Rockwell is certainly better known for his folksy covers, but N. C. Wyeth is the gold standard.

The New Rome

I've always rued the fact that the USA modeled itself on Rome - blood, conquest, fraticide, wars, macho shows of power - instead of on, say, the Minoans who, from the evidence, were nature-loving, friendly, equal rights types (until we decode their language and find out some horrible truth). But Rome it is, and right now there's a big exhibit on the subject at the Constitution Center in Philadelphia. Like most of the exhibits I've seen there it's well researched, carefully presented, and under-attended. I was impressed by the offerings: books owned by Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, matching tortuous slave collars - one from the 1st century, one from the 18th, relics from Pompeii, including a huddled plaster body cast to give an all too human feel for the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 ce. I think the most intriguing classical reach was a silver tea service with a cream pitcher in the shape of an upside down Roman helmet.

The foundation story of the USA is interesting - much more David and Goliath than Romulus and Remus (thank God) but we'd be a whole different country without Rome - just as Rome would be nowhere without Greece and the Etruscans. The 'founding fathers' were for the most part educated, patrician men who identified with the ruling classes in the Roman Republic - like them they were landowners in an agricultural society, strong-willed men who prized character and rights for 'all men' - a category that rings hollow from our perspective as it left out women and people without property, not to mention, of course, slaves. When the new little republic created its icons in the late 18th century it looked to Rome: Busts of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin draped in togas, their faces serious and full of dignity in the strong, wizened Republican Roman model,  our great American eagle  -
yes a native species, but Rome used an eagle for its standard too.

The easiest and most obvious place to see the influence on Rome on American life and iconography is in architecture. As I walked out of the (modern) Constitution Center and headed home through the historical center of the city I passed endless examples of neo-classicism - the Second National Bank modeled on the Parthenon via Rome, an obelisk and a gravestone with draped figure in bas-relief, pediments and columns on the doors of colonial-era townhouses, Corinthian columns on Old Pine Street church and my local bank. You don't have to live in the 18th century to see Rome in your life - your bank probably has those columns too. Just as they did for the 'new' Republic, those columns, pediments, and sober forms speak of character, virtue, freedom from tyranny, and trust.

Smaller Spaces

I'm especially intrigued by smaller galleries - what they're showing, of course, but also how they decide what to show and how they survive. Here in Philadelphia I'm surrounded by small, courageous, vital galleries. Old City, the next neighborhood over from mine, is the heartland of small art spaces with the newest and latest, but there are others scattered around, like seeds carried a little further by the wind. In the round of Ceramics exhibitions motivated by the recent NCECA Conference, several of these small galleries are hosting interesting exhibits. A new one to me was SubOcto on Alter Street, an artspace in a small artist-owned building with rental art studios, where, until April 25, the one-man show is a tribute to Val Cushing, the legendary ceramics master from Alfred University.  Broad tables of metal and wood built by Andrew Jevremovic, the sculptor-owner, showcase Cushing's work perfectly, allowing the simple, powerful pieces to communicate the functional nature of the work while also presiding as small-scale works of monumental sculpture. I was taken by the details of the work: neatly rolled handles, sharp unexpected angles, and surfaces with carefully monitored effects of glaze and firing. Cushing has an affection for a strange lavender glaze, a rare color in his kind of hearty ceramics, that worked better for me when it was matched with something darker and heavier than on its own. Another space with a small interesting show is the Show of Hands store on Pine Street. In an alcove gallery, until April 30, you can find a juried show of 30 nationally known ceramic artists. There is a wide range of techniques and choices on display. A tall, hand-built vessel featuring a neat double row of orange circles by Doris Fischer-Colbie stands near an intricate painted Japanese-flavored pillow by Darlene Davis, and not far from a light-hearted but technically difficult teapot in the form of a bagel and a box of Philadelphia (what else) Cream Cheese by Meryl Ruth. The artists, chosen by Sherman Hall, editor of Ceramics Monthly, were on hand for an opening reception.
I've written before about BSquare Gallery on 9th Street, one of my favorite small galleries. Here, until May 1, is a show entitled "1895 years of Pottery," which features master work from all over the country, including the fine sgraffito of Matt Metz from Alfred, and Neil Patterson, a local favorite with a studio on Fairmount Avenue in Philadelphia. I was happy to see that the show had almost sold out by the end of the first week.