Thomas Eakins and
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In 1876, in the city of Philadelphia, where the 100th birthday of the American nation would be celebrated in an epic, sprawling, international Centennial Exposition, and exposition where, as Walt Whitman wrote, "Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet, earth's modern wonder. . . .Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath they banner Freedom," there emerged an artist, Thomas Eakins, whose muscular, flinty, intensely intellectual aesthetic redefined the nature of heroism in modern life, substantially broadening the range of subject matter for art.
We can hear Eakins speaking on this subject through Walt Whitman, whom he knew, in Whitman's poem, Song of the Exposition.
Like Walt Whitman, Eakins was redefining the idea of heroism in modern life. Physicians, scientists, opera singers, amateur athletes, painters and poets were the new aristocracy of intellect and professional achievement. He was drawn to what his biographer described as "the moral universe" he saw in each face.
In his epic portrait, The Gross Clinic, Philadelphia surgeon Dr. Samuel Gross cuts an imposing, swashbuckling figure as he wields a blood covered scalpel over a patient and his assistants in the teaching amphitheater of his clinic. His face is serious, confident, and redolent with assurance.
But there is a cost to heroism that Eakins explored. Disappointment, emotional exhaustion, vulnerability, tension, premature aging-the symptoms of the modern age define their portion of the exceptional personalities he painted. Indeed, the psychological penetration of these portraits frequently alarmed and offended his sitters.
Eakins directed the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Art. His favorite student, J. Laurie Wallace, became his ardent disciple in this approach to portraiture. Upon recommendation of Eakins, Wallace became the chief Instructor at the prestigious Chicago Institute. In 1891, an Omaha art patron and businessman persuaded him to relocate to Omaha. His studio became the center of Bohemian life in the city. Although frequently unhappy in Omaha, he remained there the rest of his life, held, he stated, by "the bills people owe me and beauty of the Missouri River Valley."
Like Eakins, Wallace was primarily a painter of portraits. His Portrait of a Woman in the collection of the Museum of Nebraska Art illustrates a style steeped in the aesthetics of his great teacher. The psychological realism he endeavors to achieve in this portrait is close to excruciating, and hardly flattering to the sitter. Her eyelids are lazy with condescension. Her eyes define arrogance. She disdainfully stares out at the viewer. This is the deep freeze. There is a splotch of pink on her right cheek-she's over-powdered-perhaps a purposeful slight delivered by Wallace. Perhaps she is just unhappy.
The drab olive green of the background, the undistinguished browns of her dress, do nothing to redeem the negative tone of the portrait. The short hairstyle is the style of the 20s "Flapper," completely out of sync with her dour personality. Perhaps the intense negativity is the projection of Wallace's own feelings. Whatever the motive, this work is the ultimate outcome of Eakin's teaching: realism, intensely observed, refined unsparingly through the lens of honesty.
Away with the old romance!
Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts,
Away with love-verses sugar'd in rhyme, the intrigues, amours,
Of idlers,
The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few,
With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers.
To you ye reverent sane sisters,
I raise a voice for far superber themes for art,
To exalt the present and the real.
