Miss Eulabee Dix A MONA Moment By Ron Roth Director Museum of Nebraska Art

Her name is Miss Eulabee Dix. You will find Miss Dix in her wedding gown in a portrait by Robert Henri, which hangs in the museum of Nebraska Art in Kearney. Henri, one of the giants of American Art in the early 20th Century, grew up in Cozad, Nebraska, the town his father founded.

He was an inspired teacher. In a collection of his lectures and writings called The Art Spirit, his comments on the essence of a portrait are helpful as we search for meaning in his painting, Portrait of Miss Eulabee Dix in Wedding Gown.

He says, "An interest in the subject, something you want to say definitely about the subject; this is the first condition of a portrait. The processes of painting a portrait spring from this interest, this definite thing to be said. A special and particular vision is making itself clear. The lace on the lady's sleeve is no longer lace, it is part of her, and in the picture stands as a symbol of her refinement and delicacy."

So we pose the question, what is the "definite thing" in this portrait that is being revealed to us about Eulabee Dix? Henri is very sly about it. One can easily be distracted by the elegant sweep of the gown; its shimmering inner light, the gossamer suggestion of the veil, falling around her head like stardust, or the faint tail of a comet. Is this it? Is this the thing Henri is trying to say about Eulabee Dix? Her elegance? Her refinement?

I don't think it is. There is contrariness in Henri's work, an uncompromising honesty that undermines the obvious. Let's go back to that wedding gown. The skirt is a silvery hive of activity, of painterly brushstrokes; that is, there is no attempt to hide the brushstrokes. Indeed, they actively direct our eye up the slope of the gown, upward through her gloved arm to her head.

And indeed, it is Miss Dix's head, her face that is the real story here. For atop this plush pile of elegance, is the face of a woman who is just not very happy. Her tight, prim lips are pursed in the wannest of smiles. The gaze of her eyes is not soft and dewy, but formidable and edgy. And, do I see just the slightest hint of stooped shoulders in her posture, a strong person, perhaps phased momentarily by the weight of the occasion?

And perhaps this is the time to pose the question, just what defines a great work of art. Our admiration for the technical proficiency of the Dix portrait is clear and unqualified. One enjoys the sheer beauty of the color, line, and composition for its own sake. It qualifies for art on the basis of physical beauty and technical brilliance alone. But what qualifies this portrait for greatness, in my opinion, is the penetrating psychological insight, the rich subtleties of personality that transcend and enlarge the merely physical beauty of the portrait. It is this inclusion of the emotional, psychological drama, combined with heart stopping beauty that we associate with Mozart, Rembrandt and genius.

This has been Ron Roth, Director of the Museum of Nebraska Art in Kearney, MONA to her friends.