The Reality of Art

The Reality of Art

Eakins' scullers I paint
on my visual cortex,
on the too crowed river
of my visual cortex.
There is a peacefulness
in the paint he uses,
peacefulness mixed into the various
shades of colors he paints,
a peacefulness painted vibrant.

Eakins' scullers anchor
his painted rivers.
They act as connectors
between rivers and skies.
They hold together
the trees clouding green
the banks of the rivers, the bridges,
trestled and arched.  In fact,
the way in whick the scullers
hold their oars appear arced,

to complement the arcing
bridges.  A quiet vibration
is painted beneath the visible
skin of the scullers, a palpable
energy beneath the still
canvas, my visual cortex
senses and sets
into intellectual motion.
I shrug the painted oars
through the painted rivers.

Philip Kuepper
(27 July, 2013)

Another Eakins Rower

Thomas Eakins’s Wrestlers (1899) at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA).

Rowing historian William Lanouette is now editing the manuscript for his forthcoming book, Racing to Oblivion, about the Biglin brothers, Thomas Eakins and the rise and ruin of professional rowing. Doing research for his book, Bill came across a painting with a remarkable “missing” link to the sport of rowing. Bill writes,

Thomas Eakins (1844-1916) made his many rowing images between 1871, with Max Schmitt in a Single Scull, and 1874, with Oarsmen on the Schuylkill depicting a four that included Schmitt. In between, he created many sketches and pictures of the professionals John and Barney Biglin in a pair, and of John in a single. But art historians have said that his last rowing picture was that of the four on the Schuylkill.

And yet, Eakins still had rowing on his mind after 1874. A preliminary sketch for his most famous portrait, The Gross Clinic (1875), showing Dr. Samuel D. Gross in an operating theatre at Philadelphia’s Jefferson Medical College, had been worked over an image of yet another rower.

At the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) recently, I discovered an 1899 Eakins oil painting depicting wrestlers (see on top) clenched on a mat. But there in the background, filling fully a sixth of the canvas, was yet another rower! Not on water, but pulling a primitive erg that gained its resistance from ropes and pulleys hoisting suspended metal weights.

Although not set on water, this may be Eakins’s last rowing picture.

Bill Lanouette’s book Racing to Oblivion will be published by Harvard University Press in 2014.

Max Sculling

The other day, Christopher Knight, who is an art critic for the Los Angeles Times, wrote a review on his blog for the mentioned newspaper: ‘Manly Pursuits: The Sporting Images of Thomas Eakins’ @ LACMA [LACMA: Los Angeles Country Museum of Art]. Tomas Eakins’s first sporting images were of rowing and his very first one is depicted in Knight’s entry, Max Schmitt in a Single Scull (1871). The artist himself can be seen in a single scull in the background. Read Christopher Knight’s blog entry by clicking here.

Birthday Girl!

Today’s entry is another very personal one: our daughter, Ingrid, is turning 8 years old. Earlier today, my dear wife snapped a photo of Ingrid, standing below a poster of the professional oarsman John Biglin. This is, indeed, very appropriate, as this image, painted by Thomas Eakins in 1873, probably is the first ‘image’ that Ingrid recognized as a young child.

At the two previous houses we lived in, from the time Ingrid was a baby to a 5-year-old girl, we had this poster hanging above the staircase between the first and second floor. Each morning, when I took her down to the kitchen for breakfast, we would pass the Eakins print. It became a ritual to say to Ingrid every morning: ‘Ingrid. Say good morning, John Biglin!’ And sometimes, she did.

Then in 2005, when I was sitting on the sofa in the living room, admiring an article that I just had managed to get published in a magazine – an article about the American sculler Charles Courtney and the decline of professional sculling in the U.S. – Ingrid came climbing up on the sofa and onto my lap, asking: ‘What are you doing, Papa?’ I answered as off-handedly as I could: ‘Oh, it is just a little article I got published, and…’ when Ingrid suddenly interrupted me, screaming for joy, ‘Look, look, Papa, there is a picture of John Biglin!’ And right she was, that cute girl. There was an illustration of John Biglin, not the one in oil, but one of the water-coloured ones Eakins painted of his friend. She made her father very proud.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY - sweet girl!