Central Park, Winter/The Skating Pond, 1862. Currier & Ives (1857-1907). Lithograph, 18 3/8 in x 26 3/4 in. Collection of Dr. Dorrance Kelly.

It was around the holidays that I first heard of Currier & Ives prints. Introduced in 1936, calendars with Currier & Ives reproductions were part of the Travelers market branding efforts. As an employee of the Travelers Insurance Company – before all the mergers and spin-offs – my aunt received free calendars. I think she was quite an enthusiast and knew all the images ever printed, which prints were repeats, and looked for her favorites. When over time employees were limited to a fixed number, she doled them out only to “those who would appreciate them.”

In reading about the history of Currier & Ives lithographs, it became clear that their creation was a commercial endeavor first and foremost. Invented in 1795 by Alois Senefelder, lithography did not reach America until 1819. At the age of fifteen, Nathaniel Currier (1813-1888) became an apprentice at the first commercially successful lithography shop owned by William S. & John Pendleton in Boston. Currier realized the groundbreaking potential, and in 1834 at the age of twenty-two, he established his own printing company.

After selling thousands of prints depicting the terrible fire in New York City’s business district in 1835, he understood that there was a market for current news; a thirst to see more disasters, and local and national events. When the New York Sun produced its Sun Extra edition with Currier’s dramatic image of the “Awful Configuration of the Steam Boat Lexington in Long Island Sound on Monday/ Eve’ Jan. 13th 1840, by which Melancholy Occurrence over 100 Persons Perished”, he gained a national reputation and an increased number of sales agents and peddlers in other cities.

Husking, 1861. Currier & Ives (1857-1907). Lithograph by C.Severin, after a painting by Eastman Johnson, 18 3/8 in x 26 3/4 in. Collection of Dr. Dorrance Kelly.

In 1852, James Ives (1824-1895) joined Currier as a bookkeeper, and five years later became a full partner. He was a self-taught artist and lithographer who also had a keen sense of popular tastes and what was salable. Reducing the amount of job printing, they now started creating and marketing their own designs of inexpensive, decorative pictures for the American public.

The Currier & Ives shop had floors of artists, lithographers, letterers, stone grinders, and trained colorists. Many prints were unsigned, as it was believed that most consumers were not interested in the artist’s name or their artistic development. Most appreciated was the inherent appeal of the prints’ subject and workmanship. While the quality varied greatly among the over 7,500 different images, the firm employed many talented artists in order to produce fine prints, a tactic believed to bring them commercial success.

For commissioned jobs, the approach differed. The firm sought out well-known artists, such as Arthur Fitzwilliam Tait, Louis Mauer, and Fanny Palmer – each having a general specialty. In other instances, they reproduced works of artists such as George Henry Durrie and George Catlin. However, overall, they saw themselves primarily as a commercial enterprise. Their catalog of prints advertised Currier & Ives as “Publishers of Cheap and Popular Pictures” – wholesale 6¢ each; $6 for 100, $60 for 1,000. It is estimated that 10 million prints of 7,500 images were made.

Currier & Ives images captured a whole range of subject matter from American society: country farming, family life, sporting events, outdoor scenes, railroad expansion, westward expansion, and many others. With an eye for marketability, the firm often produced pictures that were composed and idyllic.

No Swimming, 1921 (Cover of Saturday Evening Post, June 4, 1921. Norman Rockwell (1894-1978). Oil on canvas, 25 1/4 in x 22 1/4 in. The Norman Rockwell Museum at Stockbridge.

Some art critics have compared the Currier & Ives images to Norman Rockwell (1894- 1978) cover illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post. Critics in Rockwell’s time acknowledged his expert technique, yet they did not consider Rockwell a serious artist as his work was viewed as an idealistic and sentimental reflection of American life, intended for the enjoyment within the mass market.

Clement Greenberg (1909-1994) and Hermann Broch (1886 – 1951), 20th century art critics, contended that commercial art, which appeals to mass tastes and is easy to market, was not a true art form. In his essay “Avant-garde and Kitsch,” Greenberg argued that art should “keep culture moving,” not be a “rear-guard.” According to Greenberg, while its style may have changed over time, commercial art neither challenged the culture nor uncovered the complexities of life. Such works were claimed to be “parts of the same culture and products of the same society” and they remained just easy to consume.

First Snow, 2005. Thomas Kinkade (b. 1958). Oil on canvas, 24 in. x 18 in.

Is this critique of art applicable today? Or is it historical perspective that allows us to see other aspects of commercial work or appreciate its artistic qualities? How clear is the divide between “fine” and “commercial” art? When museums first began exhibiting contemporary fashion designers, there was an outcry. Now less than twenty years later, such exhibitions have been embraced by even the most conservative of institutions.Thomas Kinkade’s paintings, which are said to be owned by millions of people, are not exhibited today. Will they be in 100 years? What other commercial work should be considered or collected today?

Do not miss the exhibition Currier & Ives: Impressions of America currently on view in the Low Illustration Gallery until April 8, 2012. The selection of 21 prints, on loan to the Museum from Dr. Dorrance Kelly of West Redding, CT, represents the best of Currier & Ives’ oeuvre. A reception is planned for Sunday, January 8, 2012 from 1-2:30 p.m. with remarks at 1:30 p.m. by Robert K. Newman, Director of The Old Print Shop in New York, one of America’ oldest galleries.

Blue Boar (2010) installed in the Contemporary Gallery at the NBMAA

The New Britain Museum of American Art is pleased to feature the newest addition to the New Media series, Blue Boar, 2010 by Victoria Bradbury. This interactive, mixed-media installation brings the viewer into the midst of a witch trial – the so-called “blue boar incident.” In 1692, 75-year-old Mary Bradbury, the artist’s 10th great-grandmother and the first “American” woman in her lineage, was convicted of witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts. Two local men, Richard Carr and Zerubabel Endicott, accused Mrs. Bradbury of transforming herself into a blue boar while she was tending to her garden. Victoria Bradbury retells the “blue boar incident”  through a sewn book narrated by vegetables, face recognition software projected onto a sculpture of a boar, and a video animation of a blue boar running through flowers.

Viewer participation is a key component of Blue Boar. When visitors step up to Bradbury’s installation, which exists in a closed-in nook in the middle of the Contemporary Gallery, they find a large book in front of them.  Looking up and through the viewing hole, the viewer then sees his or her face mysteriously projected onto a sculpture of a boar.  During Mary Bradbury’s trial, the artist believes that there would have been a visual inconsistency between what the Puritan audience members saw versus what they thought; in other words, they would simultaneously see an older woman being tried before their eyes and also imagine her as an actual blue boar.

A visitor peeping inside the nook.

The projection and the sculpted boar are meant to communicate exactly that: the audience’s dual vision. Accompanying this composite image is audible testimony which ultimately was used to condemn Mrs. Bradbury: “I saw Mrs. Bradbury go into her garden, turn the corner, and immediately there darted out of her gate a blue boar.” The artist’s symbolic retelling of the trial pushes the viewer to confront the absurdity of the circumstances and imagine him or herself in the position of both the accusers and the accused. Beyond the interactive nature of the work and its engagement with historical narratives, however, there are many other themes to uncover in Blue Boar. Of particular interest is Bradbury’s use of “new” and “old” materials to address the theme of media history.

What were the preferred modes of communication in the past? The way in which we express ourselves has transformed dramatically since 1692 when the blue boar incident “occurred.” The way information is dispersed has also changed. The “new” forms of communication demonstrated in this installation are video, projection, algorithms, codes, and digital animation. Bradbury attends to the “old” by including a sewn sampler (these samplers functioned like sketchbooks – they provided a place for women to record different sewing patterns that they could refer back to at a later date) of the voices of the vegetables that provide testimony that proved Mary Bradbury’s innocence. It is of course ironic that the only source of credible testimony comes from onions, leeks, carrots, and potatoes in Mary’s garden. The choice of a sewn sampler to present their voices was not accidental. According to Bradbury, ” In Puritan New England, a woman’s contributions to the family included the tending of a door garden and the daily upkeep of soft goods.” By alluding to these two aspects of women’s lives, Bradbury reminds the viewer of the particularities and limitations of the women’s sphere in Colonial America.

Face recognition software projecting a viewer's face onto the blue boar.

In addition to her use of the embroidered book and projection, Bradbury has included a video of a blue boar trampling over larger than life flowers.  The combination of these three elements amounts to something other than “sculpture” or “painting.” Blue Boar (2010) is a hybrid work that integrates computer algorithms and codes with fibrous materials to provide a visual milieu of communicative possibilities. The combining of media has been termed “Intermedia” by Fluxus artist Dick Higgins in the Something Else Newsletter in 1966. “Intermedia” applies to works that “fall conceptually between media that are already known.” Art historian, Rosalind Krauss also spoke of hybridity in her article “Sculpture in the Expanded Field” from 1979. Krauss argues that many post-1950 works of art have histories different from those of painting or sculpture with which we are more familiar. The emergence of Intermedia as an artistic practice in the 20th century seems far from accidental, and correlates directly with the constant technological fluctuations of the post-war era. Our modes of communications are no longer confined to one or two realms, but have branched off into new frontiers of electronic and social media. Through her conceptual and material choices, Victoria Bradbury acknowledges the multifaceted nature of communication today.

Midway Projections, 2010. Victoria Bradbury (b.1981). Multimedia installation with digital prints and single channel video.

The theme of hybridity and media history are woven into many of Bradbury’s other works. Midway Projections (2010), for example, speaks to the way people received news in the 1900’s. Bradbury uses electronic images and a turn of the century lightbulb to project images onto a wall. In a pre-cinema, pre-television culture, someone known as a Magic Lanternist would broadcast “current” events. At times, the slides that he or she carried could be weeks, months, or years old. Bradbury’s installation combines “new” technology with an “old” method of news broadcasting to disseminate information in a new way.

The history of communication involves much more than the invention of iPhones and the digitalization of newspapers. Bradbury’s highly skilled and technical work asks viewers to consider both the changes in communication modes and the coexistence of old and new media. The artist’s choice to use a variety of media, projections, face recognition software, sewing, and book making, to name a few, classifies her work as Intermedia as well as “New Media.” New Media is an emerging field in the art world. New Media artists specialize in taking “traditional media” such as film, painting, and written word and fusing them with the interactive power of computer and other technology. Bradbury’s current position as an Assistant Professor of Electronic Art and a Fellow for the Institute for Digital Intermedia Arts at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana speaks to the growing professionalization of this art practice and the rising need for scholarship in order to trace the development of communication in our computerized contemporary society.

Victoria Bradbury next to her installation, Blue Boar (2010).

What has technology brought to the art world over the past decade? Do you think computer-mediated art is “art”? Will the traditional media of painting, drawing, and printmaking one day become obsolete?

Come visit Victoria Bradbury’s Blue Boar in the New Media alcove on view until January 29, 2012!

Bradbury has screened and exhibited her work at the Albright Knox and Hallwalls Galleries in Buffalo, New York, Artist Television Access in San Francisco, the Loop Festival in Barcelona, and the China International Fiber Arts Biennial in Beijing. She has designed sets for The Julliard School, Under the Table Theatre, The New York Clown Festival, and Filuren Festugen in Aarhus, Denmark. She holds an MFA in Electronic Arts from Alfred University and a BFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art.

Carson Fox (b. 1970) installing one of her cast resin snowflakes

“I am interested in beauty but I mistrust it. Instead, I look for beauty that exists in tension with the material or circumstances that invent it”. This has become one of the mantras of Carson Fox, the Brooklyn-based artists whose artwork is the newest installment in the NEW/NOW exhibition series for emerging contemporary artists. The dual nature of beauty is certainly evident in Bi-Polar, which will open at the NBMAA on November 4th.

Icicle Field, 2010. Carson Fox (b. 1970). Cast resin. Collection of the artist.

Bi-Polar is a two-room, mixed-media installation. The larger “ice room” is a place where the ephemeral becomes eternal, and the fragile is made indestructible. Over 100 resin icicles dangle overhead, beautiful and almost playful, yet dangerous at the same time, causing the viewer to tread carefully underneath them. In the second, “fire room”,  pink, red and orange glowing resin logs serve as reminders of the function of fire as both a life-giving and a life-threatening force.  Together with hand-painted flames that cover the walls, the elements in this room suggest the presence of warmth. When viewed side by side, the two rooms not only represent opposites in nature, but become symbols for something much more personal to Fox: her mother and father. Born in Oxford, Mississippi (the hometown of William Faulkner), the artist credits the American Southern Gothic tradition as the precedent for infusing individual life experiences and acknowledging heritage  in one’s artwork.

Fox’s mother is represented by the myriad of icicles. This symbolic connection was forged in a dream the artist had about her mother shortly after her death, in which they were both surrounded by ice that was quickly melting. Reflecting upon this imagery, Fox asked herself the question: “If I fixed the ice in time, could I keep her from vanishing?” Thus, the powerful dream served as the catalyst for creating the icicles, a process which in turn became part of the healing process for Fox after the loss of her mother. Fox states, “My work is really very autobiographical. My desire to come to terms with my past drives everything I do.”

On the other side of the Gallery,  the “fire room” signifies Fox’s father. When she was a young child, she recalls seeing her father chop down trees for firewood, but stop short of cutting them into usable logs and leave them to rot in the backyard. All the while, the heat would be turned off in every room except his own. It was an effort to save money at the cost of denying the family the most basic of needs. This absence of actual heat is certainly felt in the “fire room”, but it is the presence of the logs that most directly represents the cruelty and indifference Fox felt as a child from her father. The logs are tangible, but false, unusable.

Small Wood Pile, 2011. Carson Fox (b. 1970). Resin. Collection of the artist.

Bi-Polar is a visually stunning work, but also one that holds inherent potential to evoke emotion. This potential is realized and ignited once the poignant symbolism behind the visual vocabulary is understood, enveloping the viewer in the artist’s personal history. At the same time,  Bi-Polar invites the viewer into a wider world of questions regarding the universal human desire to resist against the forces of natural order, push the boundaries of what is within or beyond our control, and ultimately arrest time.

Please join us for the Opening Reception on November 4th, during the Museum’s First Friday Event, from 5:30 – 8 p.m. , with artist’s remarks at 6 p.m. Be sure to experience Bi-Polar before it closes on February 5th, 2012.

1 squared, 2010. Arthur L. Carter (b.1931). Stainless steel, 36" x 36".

The New Britain Museum of American Art is pleased to host the exhibition of sculptural paintings by the artist Arthur L. Carter on view from September 30th to November 27th in the Davis Gallery. The title of the show, Orthogonals, refers to the property in mathematics – orthogonality – in which two vectors are perpendicular. A wonderful blend of art and mathematics, the rectangles, squares, triangles, and lines in Carter’s wall reliefs coexist and intersect in surprising ways to create an atmosphere that is both musical and harmonious.

Trained as a classical pianist, Carter produces art that can be described as a symphony of diverse and contrasting elements. Though an accomplished sculptor, he did not commit to the craft until 1990, having previously earned a living as a successful investment banker, entrepreneur, and publisher for a number of newspapers such as The Nation and The New York Observer. His propensity for order, which is evident in his business ventures (he has owned and operated more than a hundred industrial companies) and interest in graphic design during his publishing days, eventually manifested itself into a form of sculpture. Carter’s decision to adopt sculpture as his medium was inspired by a long standing interest in geometry and the organization of space and structure – elements he dealt with constantly as a newspaper publisher.

Octacube, 1996. Arthur L. Carter (b. 1931). Silver and copper, 15x21x15 in.

At first glance, the grid-like quality and pure use of color in the orthogonals may bring to mind the work of Piet Mondrian (1872-1944), Donald Judd (1928-1994) and Joseph Albers (1888-1976). Simplified color schemes and shapes fashioned out of straight edges also recall the characteristics of Russian Constructivism as practiced by Alexander Rodchenko (1891-1956), Kazimir Malevich (1879-1935), and El Lissitzky (1890-1941). Also, what is not often mentioned is the subtle influence of Cybernetics on Carter’s work. In an interview with an art journalist, curator, and professor at the City University of New York, Charles A. Riley, Carter cites Douglas R. Hofstadter’s book, Godel, Escher, and Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid as one of the hallmark books in his library.  Hofstadter, a computer scientist, centered his book around Cybernetic themes that interweave mathematics, art, and music. Cybernetics, as defined by Norbert Wiener, an American mathematician who is regarded as the originator of Cybernetics, is the use of computer technology to extend human capabilities.  Communication, both digital and verbal, has already been forever modified by the developments in technology. Taking this idea one step further and seeing the world through “computerized vision” could produce repetitive images, mirror imagery, and forms not unlike Carter’s Octacube, 1996 (not on view in this exhibit). Many of Carter’s other works display Cybernetic concepts as well.

The sculptural painting 1² consists of a stainless steel square welded onto a metal canvas. The light reflects and refracts, creating what look to be scratches that seemingly cover the work.  These “marks” shift depending on the lighting in the room and position of the viewer, producing an ever changing surface. When standing in front of 1², the viewer is presented with a fun-house-mirror version of him or her self. An elongated face or arms stretched like putty are examples of the way 1² reconfigures information before spitting it back to the viewer. According to Norbert Weiner, all communication is a form of pattern and organization.  The less information that the message carries, the easier it is to understand it.  A cliche, for example, is an example of a message with limited information. Carter’s 1² plays with the natural surroundings to present a message that always fluctuates depending on the viewer and viewing conditions involved.

The Fibonacci Sequence

Carter has also created his own method for developing compositions by using the discoveries of Pythagoras of Samos (the Pythagorean Theorem) and Leonardo Pisano Bigollo (Fibonacci Sequence) to guide the placement and measurements of geometric forms across planes. The simple, seemingly unremarkable pattern of the Fibonacci sequence is generated by writing “1” twice and producing each succeeding term by taking the sum of the two numbers immediately preceding it. This formulaic way of generating numbers is comparable to an algorithm, a function of a computer.  An algorithm, defined as a sequence of steps laid out as a flow chart and then used in computer programming, decides a computer’s function.  Like computer programmers, Carter uses the Fibonacci sequence as an algorithm to create the measurements and designs of his sculptural paintings. What is fascinating is that while Carter’s art certainly evokes mechanical, industrial, and computerized forms and patterns, it also finds links to nature.  The Fibonacci sequence which inspires nearly all of Carter’s compositions is also manifested across the natural world – in the arrangement of flower petals and the spiral of the nautilus shell, for example.

In turn, the ratio of any two Fibonacci numbers is very close to the “golden ratio.” To calculate the measurements of the shapes and their relative distance, Carter relies on the “golden ratio”, held by the Greeks to produce the most aesthetically pleasing rectangle. The “golden ratio” is when the ratio of the sum of the quantities to the larger quantity is equal to the ratio of larger quantity to the smaller one.  This relationship is exemplified in the arrangement of forms found in Orthogonal Construction 15.  Here, Carter paints over the steel constructions with a primary red and a shade of black. The half red/half steel square in the upper left hand

Orthogonal Construction 15, 2010. Arthur L. Carter (b. 1931). Stainless steel with red and black painted rectangles, 30" x 48"

corner would be considered a “golden rectangle.”  Long side “a” (the outer side of the red square), and short side “b” (the top of the steel rectangle,) when placed adjacent to the side “a” (of the red square,) will produce a similar “golden rectangle” (the red square) with longer side “a + b” and shorter side “a”. The formula for a “golden rectangle” is then “a+b= x” and “x/a = a/b.” Evidence of the artist’s fascination with math and organization can be discovered in various parts of this and other sculptural paintings. Are there any other places where you see the “golden ratio” or a “golden segment” in Carter’s work?

5 Squared, 2010. Arthur L. Carter (b. 1931). Acrylic on paper, 9 X 12 in.

Despite the rationality and order within the orthogonals, there are also moments of idiosyncrasy. The sculptural reliefs simulate three dimensions through their subtle shading, bold use of contrasting colors and recrudescent surfaces, thus creating a depth illusion in the same way that Renaissance artists employed perspective in their drawings to demonstrate the limitlessness of infinity. 5² shows Carter’s drawings of geometric forms that give the illusion of a third dimension. A series of drawings titled 3², 4², 5²,and 6² are composed of small squares multiplied within a grid like pattern. The boldly colored squares appear to float above the surface of the paper. In other instances, the negative space vibrates throughout the page, a rebellion, perhaps, of the eyes, as they adjust to the extreme linearity and perfect measurements of the squares.  These works on paper are then translated into relief paintings, seen in 1², 2², 3² and 4² that bring the drawn squares to three-dimensional life.  It is as if Carter has created a punched computer card to mimic a computational way of translating messages.

It is a “relief” to see an artist who is able to combine art, math, and computational science in way that is inventive, inviting and visually appealing. In an age of extreme specialization, particularly in the sciences, Carter encourages the viewer to “think outside the box” by combining seemingly disparate disciplines to create a harmonious and beautiful visual language.

So She Floats, 2010. Deb Todd Wheeler (b.1965). HD video (running time: 5 minutes). Georgie Friedman: Cinematography; Heidi Keyser: Actor, Allison Layton: Actor. Courtesy of Ellen Miller Gallery.

Many people are not receptive to contemporary art, deeming it too cold, somewhat elitist, and rather inaccessible. In some ways, the conceptual nature of a sizable fraction of contemporary art does not bode well in a society that is used to instant gratification. We live in a world where a meal can take less than a minute to make, numerous forms of entertainment are available at the click of a button, and a question that used to take hours to answer by pouring over books and archives can now be obtained instantly via the Internet. By extension, art that denies instant aesthetic pleasure often raises suspicion and lends itself to being overlooked or dismissed altogether. It could be argued that some artists today are making art only for the informed audience who are well-versed in philosophy and art historical discourse. However, many artists, like Deb Todd Wheeler are finding new, innovative ways to directly involve, rather than shut out, every type of viewer.

Wheeler’s art is concerned with human interaction with the environment, often using technology as a lens to investigate ways in which we affect our planet.  Wheeler is an inventor who creates machines for many of her works and often references the nineteenth century, a time when science and art were more closely linked.  Projects like Live Experiments in Human Energy Exchange engage the viewer in the most literal sense.  Wheeler explains:

“Central to the installation is a modified bicycle, which is hooked up to a generator and various rigs, gears and pulleys. By pedaling the bike, the rider (a gallery volunteer) activates the installation, generating light, wind, sound, and motion to fuel a series of kinetic studies on the fraught relationships between nature and technology. In one piece the bike powers a DC generator that in turn powers fluorescent lights embedded in hacked ant farms, in which worker-ant tunnels are dug beneath looming silhouettes of 1964 World’s Fair pavilions. In another work, the same bike turns gears that transfer energy to wind power by turning a windmill-like form with sails made of recycled plastic grocery bags.”

Ant Farm, Live Experiments in Human Energy Exchange, 2006. Deb Todd Wheeler (b. 1965). Multimedia installation, Gallery at Green Street, Oct 27 - Dec 15, 2006

The current work on display at the NBMAA in the New Media alcove in the Batchelor Gallery for Contemporary Art is another work by Deb Todd Wheeler, an HD video entitled So She Floats.  The video is a documentation of a performance, and is displayed with a part of the dress and the oar used in the performance. The video depicts a woman in an inflatable polyethylene dress walking along with an assistant who wears inflating devices as shoes, constantly pumping air into the dress.  So She Floats references a very specific environmental problem that occurred in 1988 when a patch of accumulated plastic debris larger than the size of Texas was discovered in the North Pacific. Sewn from the  plastic used to encase millions of newspapers before they are delivered to our doorsteps (the very same plastic that collected in the ocean), the inflatable dress is a relic that serves as a reminder of the human imprint on the environment.  In addition to drawing attention to a grave ecological issue, this performance video also creates the mood of a contemporary fairytale, and shares an underlying theme with much of Deb Todd Wheeler’s other work, namely, the human desire for power and the importance of interaction and collaboration.

So She Floats does not directly interact with the viewer per se, but the overall theme of Wheeler’s work is summarized in the final scene of the video, in which  the woman in the dress arrives at a round raft,  detaches from her assistant and begins to paddle out into the sea, alone using an oar full of holes.  The raft ends up going nowhere, spinning and spinning endlessly.  The message?  Humans need each other; an individual is likely to think him or herself into circles without new influences and experiences in the world.

Deb Todd Wheeler manages to find a balance between the scientific, the technological and the poetic, and makes the viewer understand her art through participation.  Like most conceptual art, it is not easily grasped upon first glace, but the beauty that traditionally has been expressed in a painting, now subtly lurks behind the  process of marrying ideas with poetic innovations told through visual means.

What do you think about the forms of art that are created taking today i.e. performance, video and computer-generated art?  Would you want to actively participate in an art installation?  What do you think can be gained from artists directly involving the viewer in their work?

So She Floats is on view at the NBMAA through October 9, 2011.

Untitled, 2011. Swoon. Wheat pasting and stencil. Brooklyn, NY.

Since the days of ancient Greece, public art has existed as a major art form.  Religious and social art was vigorously implemented by the Greeks to bolster public confidence in the empire.  America experienced a similar phenomenon after the Great Depression when government-sponsored mural projects proliferated throughout major cities in order to reinvigorate public spirit.  The unsanctioned street art of today also communicates socially relevant themes to the public, but does so in a way that often subverts and questions dominant political authority.

During the 1920s and 30s, members of the American artistic community revitalized the Italian Renaissance tradition of fresco painting that had also inspired their contemporaries in Mexico during the Mexican Mural Renaissance. Certain visionary U.S politicians including Franklin D. Roosevelt wanted to emulate the Mexican model that combined creativity and national values. Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975), whose mural The Arts of Life in America (1932) can be found in the New Britain Museum of American Art collection of modernist paintings, worked under the Federal Art Project division of the Works Progress Administration, an organization that created over 5,000 jobs for artists during the 1930s. For the first time since America’s founding, artists enjoyed generous government support. Poverty stricken cities, once devoid of life, were enlivened with colorful murals that depicted powerful, hard working Americans. Benton received a great deal of attention in 1930 when he created his own mural project, America Today. His Regionalist style, which focused on nostalgic and socially relevant subject matter, acted as a reminder of better times during a tumultuous moment in our nation’s history.

The Arts of Life in America: Arts of the South, 1932. Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975). Egg tempera and oil glaze on linen, 93 3/4 x 157 1/4 in. The New Britain Museum of American Art, Harriet Russell Stanley Fund, 1953.19.

The Arts of Life in America: Arts of the West, 1932. Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975). Egg tempera and oil glaze on linen, 93 3/4 x 157 1/4 in. The New Britain Museum of American Art, Harriet Russell Stanley Fund, 1953.19.

At first glance, Arts of Life in America appears utopian. Men and women, painted in an elongated, robust style, have the appearance of heroic figures, much like the gods and goddesses that populated Roman temples. For his Whitney commission, however, Benton was not concerned with presenting a saccharine image of the nation to his viewers. Instead, his illustrated scenes of daily life in New York City, the South and American West offered a biting critique of American habits. In Arts of the City, for example, Benton exposed undesirable aspects of the City that were exacerbated after the Great Depression. Benton fearlessly addressed the banes of urban life, namely, prostitution, poverty, mobs, isolation and loneliness, as seen through the homeless men rummaging through the trash for food, or the solitary Jazz musician striking a mournful chord on his saxophone. While the seemingly brash subject matter of his Whitney murals are a stark contrast from his more folksy, nostalgic themes of rural America, Benton’s boldness was probably influenced by the fact that the murals were intended to be displayed in a museum rather than the streets. The themes confronted in Arts of the City would have been too controversial in the eyes of the government, which wanted images of positive figures that overcome hardship rather than succumb to it. It was the museum environment that would have allowed for more creative flexibility and opportunity for critique.

The Arts of Life in America: Arts of the City, 1932. Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975). Egg tempera and oil glaze on linen, 93 3/4 x 264 in. The New Britain Museum of American Art, Harriet Russell Stanley Fund, 1953.19.

Interestingly, one of the more dominant forms of public art today -“street art” – sees the streets, not the museum, as the greatest venue for discussion. Whereas the content of the WPA murals appealed to the mores established by the federal government, the public alleys, walls and street signs of today are an untapped resource for street artists who seek to question the existing environment with its own language. Unlike vandalism or territorial graffiti, the unwarranted “post-graffiti” does not seek to destroy public property. While some street artists may see public walls as a canvas for personal artwork, others wish to reach out to the public in ways that are highly politicized.

Art is My Weapon, 2011. TMNK. Wheat pasting. Brooklyn, NY

In recent years, street art has emerged in the form of wheat-pasting, stickers, stenciling, posters and installation and has become a common sight on the buildings, street signs and sidewalks of Brooklyn, New York and other cities all over the world. This comes as no surprise since New York City has witnessed a number of developments in public art since the days of the WPA murals. While the graffiti art of the 1970s and 80s was largely associated with hip hop culture and vandalism, several artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring eventually transitioned into more conventional art venues. That tradition has continued into the present, as some of the best street artists in the city are also represented in galleries or commissioned for design work by major corporations. Like Benton, they juggle multiple artistic identities. Whereas Benton’s corporate persona emerged in the form of street murals and his private identity was showcased within the museum, contemporary street artists have reversed those roles.

Where do you think art has the greatest potential for critique? Is it in the public, “free” space of the streets, or within the confines of a gallery or museum? How might these artists reconcile the ephemeral nature of street art with the attempts of galleries and museums to preserve it? Do artists lose credibility by taking on more “mainstream” identities?

Ruby Throated Hummingbirds, 1992. Eugene Morelli (b.1956). Tupelo with acrylic and hammered silver. Collection of Kem Appell

The newest exhibition opening at the New Britain Museum of American Art features a private collection of a truly American art form. One Man’s Passion: The Art of Carved Birds will be open to the public on August 5 through September 25 with the opening reception scheduled for Thursday, August 11 from 5:30-7PM. This collection, owned and steadily added to by J. Kemler (Kem) Appell, highlights miniature decorative bird carvings.

While the carvings exemplify technical skill and attention to naturalistic detail, the viewer may wonder what differentiates a bird display in a natural history museum from bird carvings exhibited as a distinct artistic style. How can the study of birds in their natural habitat or in an educational setting be translated into an artistic creation favored for its form and color?

Bird decoys, ca. 400 BC – AD 100, National Museum of the American Indian, 11.4 x 5.1 x 6.5 inches

Interestingly, bird carving is recognized as North America’s only major indigenous folk art form, beginning 1,500 years ago when Native Americans fashioned bird decoys as hunting tools from reeds and grasses. This method was introduced to the European colonists, who subsequently began to use  wood as the preferred medium for creating these bird decoys.

Bird carving evolved from a strictly functional decoy to a widely sought-after art form due in large part to the 1918 Migratory Bird Treaty Act which banned the hunting of migratory waterfowl. As a result, bird carvers who had previously made a living from the widespread sale and production of decoys for market use adjusted their focus by incorporating a wider range of species, as well as narrative into their work and display. The resulting decorative function of bird carving has been prevalent ever since. Today, entire collections such as the Wendell Gilley Museum and the Birds of Vermont Museum center on the preservation and recognition of bird carving as an art form.

Bird Display at the Staten Island Museum, Staten Island, NY

One of the noted differences between a more scientific bird display and a gallery exhibition of bird carving is the medium used. While stuffed models (similar to taxidermy) present a lifelike study from which to learn about a bird species and their anatomy, the detailed carving of the decorative miniatures is facilitated by the use of tupelo wood, widely favored by carvers for its softness and pliability. The tupelo or black gum tree is also a honey plant and the primary material used for the bird carvings in One Man’s Passion: The Art of Carved Birds. Once carved, the miniatures are then hand painted with exquisite detail to create not only the image of the bird but to convey the mood of the creature itself. The artists represented in One Man’s Passion: The Art of Carved Birds are largely self-taught, gaining their knowledge and expertise through personal interaction with their subject and hours spent carving their pieces. The miniature size of the carvings not only displays an inherent skill but also the decorative aspects of the medium.

It is the collector of One Man’s Passion: The Art of Carved Birds who best defines the art, stating “A decorative bird carver’s aspiration is to exactly replicate a bird in a dramatic pose, environment or habitat. Each one is unique, a frozen moment capturing personality, behaviors, habitats, friends and foes, painstakingly labored over by a skilled hand.”  This aspiration for a creative interpretation of nature within a narrative context  is displayed by the collection, separating it from a more didactic exhibit created for informational and historical purposes alone.

Are there any other differences that separate these two types of exhibitions? Can, or should, a line be drawn between fine art and an educational display?

Be sure to visit the Museum’s Davis Gallery starting Friday, August 5 to experience the awe-inspiring art of carved birds.

Backstreet, Provincetown, 2011. John Dowd (b. 1960). Oil on canvas, 23 7/8 x 35 7/8 in. New Britain Museum of American Art, Gift of Stephen Borkowski in honor of John and Julie Dowd (2011.20).

Over the past two years, in preparation for the exhibition The Tides of Provincetown: Pivotal Years in America’s Oldest Continuous Art Colony 1899-2011 now on view at the New Britain Museum of American Art, we have compiled a list of online interactives and research materials that are both entertaining and educational. The games, videos, and additional resources pertaining to the Provincetown art colony are listed here and provide information related to the community and its artists. Enjoy!

GAMES

http://www.metmuseum.org/explore/childe_hassam/act_xword.html

-Spotlight on the American artist Childe Hassam – perfect for kids!

http://www.webexhibits.org/colorart/marilyns.html

-Experiment with color combinations of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe

http://www.purposegames.com/game/artists-abstract-expressionists-the-irascibles-quiz

-Quiz your knowledge of the “Irascibles” using the iconographic image produced by Life Magazine

http://folksonomy.co/?permalink=667

- “Be” Jackson Pollock and create action paintings!

http://www.pbs.org/hanshofmann/push_and_pull.html

-Hans Hofmann’s push pull theory is put to the test as the viewer experiments with Hofmann’s method

VIDEOS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmPt9AINfD0

-Hans Hofmann’s influence as a teacher as expressed by students

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRCEKPNTRYo&feature=related

- Provincetown as a community and its impact on artists

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_evtvqBawY&feature=related

-Interview with the artist Robert Motherwell

http://www.moma.org/explore/multimedia/videos/129/videos-all

-Exploration of the technique of Franz Kline;  links to other videos related to Mark Rothko and others

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2008/08/10/travel/20080810_HOPPER_FEATURE.html

-Video comparison of historic Provincetown (as seen through the eyes of Edward Hopper) and its present-day landscape

http://www.metmuseum.org/special/Hassam/hassam_video.asp

-Silent film produced in 1932 as a biographical sketch of Childe Hassam’s career and life

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cb4f6nWSqMI

-Gallery talk focused on artist Selina Trieff with links to other artists who exhibited at the Provincetown Art Association and Museum

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLaTQlwYxes

-Interview with Will Barnet

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

http://provincetownartistregistry.com/

-Registry of artists who visited the art colony

http://buildingprovincetown.wordpress.com/

-Street-by-street architectural guide of Provincetown

http://www.provincetownhistoryproject.com/

-Digitized images of historical Provincetown documents

http://www.iamprovincetown.com/history/art-colony-history.html

-A go-to guide for all things related to visiting Provincetown including dining and shopping suggestions

http://advocate.provincetown-ma.gov/Default/welcome.asp?skin=Provincetown&QS=Skin%3DProvincetown%26BP%3DOK%26GZ%3DT%26AW%3D1300988404359%26AppName%3D2

-Digitized Provincetown newspaper articles from the Provincetown Advocate, Provincetown News, Provincetown Banner, Provincetown Beacon, and New Beacon

The Tides of Provincetown: Pivotal Years in America’s Oldest Continuous Art Colony 1899-2011 is on view until October 15, 2011. Please see our Calendar for a full schedule of related events.

Portrait of John James Audobon, 1826. John Syme. Oil on canvas. 35 1/2 x 27 1/2 in (90.2 x 69.8 cm). White House, Washington DC.

Since the early days of America’s founding, the close association between hunting and virility has remained unchanged. During the Victorian Era, outdoor, recreational sports  became increasingly popular among urban males. The hunt, formerly a recreational privilege of the rich and powerful in Europe, was democratized in America in the 1850s when private and public land became accessible to all. Hunters were free to exploit the wilderness and its wildlife with unfettered zeal, leading to a great reduction in the wildfowl population and the extinction of several species. Professional bird hunting became an accepted annual right for urban business men.  Mimicking the migrations of thousands of birds flocking along the east coast, men from the city would take fall and spring vacations to camp in the salt marshes and shoot all forms of wild fowl.  While hunting was purely recreation for some, others practiced the sport professionally.  Market gunners arose in great numbers during the 1850’s, responding to an urban demand for the inexpensive, abundant and undeniably tasty birds.

Wild Game in the Kitchen, ca. 1890. Richard LaBarre Goodwin (1840-1910). Oil on canvas. 55 3/4 x 35 3/4 in. New Britain Museum of American Art. Charles F. Smith Fund, 1958.10.

The artist Richard LaBarre Goodwin (1840-1910) immortalized the hunter-sportsman ideal through his hauntingly realistic still lifes of fowl and hunting props. A painting such as Wild Game in the Kitchen, which can be viewed in the museum’s gallery of genre painting, was a ubiquitous presence in the Victorian home.  While Goodwin painted portraits for a living, his passion lay in painting the hunting cabin door. Expanding on the techniques of trompe l’oeil, he combined a meticulously realistic style with traditional decoy-making. The plain, battered and unpretentious charm of his still lifes distinguished his paintings from the more grandiose, romantic depictions of game by his contemporary, William M. Harnett (1848-1892).  Goodwin presented his objects with monumental simplicity by deliberately placing each object carefully onto the canvas.  In Wild Game in the Kitchen, the violence of hunting is contrasted with the order of the composition to create a complex narrative of beauty versus destruction. In an age when naturalist explorers destroyed natural life in order to immortalize it in their collections, Goodwin likely experienced conflicted emotions towards the decimation of bird populations. By painting the dead fowl in a detailed, naturalistic style, Goodwin could repossess the lost birds and imbue them with new vitality.

The rural pursuits of 19th century males is revisited in the work of Walton Ford (b. 1960), a contemporary artist who combines grand narrative with naturalistic drawing in order to satirize the exploitation and colonization of nature throughout history. Fascinated with the biography of John James Audobon, the leading 19th century ornothologist  who killed thousands of animals in order to record the birds of north America, Ford alludes to the colonial impulses of naturalist explorers in his narrative paintings.  Fallen Mias, on view in the museum’s gallery of contemporary art, fuses humor, irony, and bizarre storytelling to focus the viewer’s attention on a serious natural catastrophe: animals facing extinction. Ford lampoons the misguided attempts of primatologist Birute Galdikas to save the indigenous “mias” (translation of “orangutan” in Indonesian) population in Borneo during the 1970’s.  In order to protect the animals from extinction, she relocated them into an isolated colony and ultimately disrupted the mias’ natural behavior and habitat.  Ford creates a reverse narrative in Fallen Mias in which the Orangutans regain control of their destiny.  Galdikas is a diminutive figure, struggling to maintain control over “her” animals, while the Orangutans masquerade across the landscape with the primatologist’s camera.

Fallen Mias, 2000. Walton Ford (b. 1960). Watercolor, gouache, ink, and pencil on paper. 60 1/2 x 119 3/4 in. New Britain Museum of American Art. Charles F. Smith Fund, 2001.45

Ford makes direct reference to Audobon’s 19th century drawings of dead specimens by artificially aging the paper used for his watercolor.  By combining his own humor and irony with the didactic art form of scientific illustration, he provides us with an alternative approach towards understanding our relationship with nature. While Ford’s Mias are caricatured characters with whom the viewer can empathize, the decoys in Goodwin’s painting are static objects which have been colonized by the artist’s hand and the viewer’s gaze.

Do Goodwin’s cabin door paintings hold relevance in today’s society? How do you think nature ought to be represented in the 21st century? Is it the responsibility of art to teach the world about the natural world? If so, do you think Ford’s method is effective? What other methods of artistic display might work that combine art and science?

Untitled (Abstract), ca. 1950s. Lillian Orlowsky (1914–2007). Oil on canvas, 32 x 25 in. New Britain Museum of American Art, Gift of The Lillian Orlowsky and William Freed Foundation (2010.100)

While the idea that originality can be taught is somewhat oxymoronic, there is no denying that some of the most ground-breaking artists in history were students, at one time or another, influenced by the teachings of masters and their work. Provincetown artists were no exception, and if you had to trace the roots of Provincetown’s reputation as a leading center of innovative art, the Hans Hofmann School of Fine Art would be the first place to look. It was the pedagogy of the school’s founder, famed Modernist and Abstract Expressionist Hans Hofmann (1880-1966), that inspired generations of artists to obliterate the grasp of tradition and Academic convention, each in his or her own way. Opened in 1935, the Hans Hofmann School of Fine Arts marked a new tide in both the art colony and American art history.

When Hofmann emigrated from Germany to the United States, he brought with him a direct knowledge of European Modernism and the avant-garde from his exposure and participation in art movements such as Cubism, Fauvism, Surrealism, De Stijl, Blaue Reiter, and Die Brüke. A contemporary and student of monumental artists such as Paul Cezanne, Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque, Henri Matisse, and Wassily Kandinsky, Hofmann learned and lived in the very center of the avant-garde. Picking up the best from the best, he amalgamated Cubism’s treatment of volumes and the bright expressive palette of Fauvism into his pedagogical theory.  His “push and pull” approach, as it came to be known, refused to remain tied to one point perspective and narrative legibility. Thus, Hofmann theorized the seemingly impossible — a new way to translate nature’s three dimensions into a two-dimensional picture plane. His teachings sought to create dynamic compositions using abstract geometric forms and color swatches to foster severe tensions and reconciliatory balances.

Hofmann’s influence was visible throughout the art world. Countless figures belonging to the New York art scene ventured to the lush land and sea of Provincetown to take part in the creative atmosphere fostered by the Hans Hofmann School of Fine Art. Among those were husband and wife duo, Lillian Orlowsky (1914-2007) and William Freed (1904-1984), who benefited greatly from both Hofmann’s influence and the Provincetown art community. Lillian Orlowsky was not ashamed to praise Hofmann’s influence. She claimed Hofmann had taught her how to see, stating: “I became aware of nature that went beyond the surface appearances of a two-dimensional picture plane.” After moving to Provincetown permanently in the 1940s, Orlowsky reoriented her work toward  increasingly aggressive abstractions. Characterized by work that deconstructed large, solid forms and a more brisk, active application of paint, Orlowsky rightfully emerged at the forefront of Hofmann’s favor and enjoyed praise as she too pushed the boundaries of American art. Like most of Hofmann’s students, Orlowsky did not mirror or mimic her teacher’s art. Instead, she departed from his mantra using a lightened palette in place of the bold, seemingly masculine hues of the stoic Hofmann. As seen in Untitled (Abstract), softer color swatches composed of smaller individual units replace the earlier, more sculptural forms indebted to Hofmann. However, Untitled still bodes of Hofmann’s “push and pull” theory, as the free-form abstract language of geometric interactions and color planes bespeak the negotiation of movement and balance.

Still Life of Fruit and Bottle, 1963. William Freed (1902–1984). Oil on canvas, 32 x 27 in. New Britain Museum of American Art, Gift of The Lillian Orlowsky and William Freed Foundation (2010.99)

William Freed, like Hofmann, preferred that nature inform the composition and structure of paintings. His unique, expressive rhythms came to characterize his beautiful harmony of Cubism and Fauvism. Within the layered planes of lyrical color one may still recall experienced reality. Simultaneously, the tensions of intersecting perspectives and planes of color throw the composition into a battle for balance and stasis. Freed’s work Still Life of Fruit and Bottle parleys Hofmann’s “push and pull” theory while maintaining a sense of individual subjectivity of vision and compositional preference. Juxtaposed at first glance, Orlowsky and Freed’s paintings appear to be vastly different, like most of Hofmann’s students’ works. Yet a closer analysis reveals a common foundation in their use of “push and pull”.

Sam Feinstein (1915-2003) took to Hofmann’s theories almost instantly. Boasting an illustrious seventy-year artistic career spanning realism, expressionism, and abstraction, Feinstein was able to break from rigid, proportioned figuration in favor of abstraction as direct result of Hofmann’s teachings. Coming to Provincetown in the late 1940s, Feinstein found his own beliefs in the beauty and order of nature embodied in Hofmann’s theories. Under Hofmann’s tutelage, Feinstein mastered a distinctive language of abstraction incorporating vast stretches of color emphatically penetrating the canvas in a dynamic, interwoven balance of texture. Pieta III typifies the negotiation of nature onto a picture plane, as the rough blasts of color and chaotic forms give the canvas a vivacious, living character. This abstracted equilibrium drew from Hofmann’s “push and pull” theory, by which nature’s ebbs and flows were translated into painted forms.

Pieta III, late 1950s. Sam Feinstein (1915–2003). Oil on canvas, 48 x 36 in. New Britain Museum of American Art, Gift of the Samuel L. Feinstein Trust (2011.37)

As American art moved to the forefront of innovation in the 20th century, Hofmann’s students evolved into the spear-heads of many notable movements in art. Orlowsky, Freed, and Feinstein and other Provincetown artists such as Willem de Kooning (1904-1997), Lee Krasner (1908-1984), and Jackson Pollock (1912-1956) transformed a country formerly indebted to the European masters into a beacon of the avant-garde in its own right. Hofmann’s school fostered individuality and unique development as his unorthodox methods of critique and direct manipulation startled the art world. Hans Hofmann was a catalyst of more than just Modernism and Abstract Expressionism, but of American and international art at large.

In what ways are the works of Hofmann’s students similar and different? How is the influence of Provincetown visible in their work? How is Hofmann’s “push and pull” theory embodied in the works above?

Make sure to visit these works, among others, in The Tides of Provincetown: Pivotal Years in America’s Oldest Continuous Art Colony 1899-2011 on display from July 15 – Oct. 16, 2011!