May Newsletter: The beginning of American Realism

In every generation there is always someone who stands apart from the rest. He or she

Self-portrait (1780-84)

does something that no one else has done or perhaps even considered. In our generation, Steve Jobs comes to mind. He and his partner, Steve Wozniak, approached folks with the fanciful idea of creating a home computer. Not possible, they said.  But in fact, it was, and the world hasn't been the same since.

In the colonial days, we probably think of Ben Franklin, the man of many trades and talents. He was not only a statesman, but printer, writer and inventor. At the same time, there was a young man who would become the most influential artist in colonial America: John Singleton Copley (1738-1815). 

Born in Boston, Copley came under the influence of his step-father, Peter Pelham, who painted portraits and etched engravings as well as taught dancing and offered a writing and arithmetic school. His mother and father (both from Ireland) owned and operated a small tobacco shop and after his father died, when Copley was a small child, his mother maintained the shop, which helped support the family until the artist’s success.

Not much is known about Copley’s education and training in art, except for his step-father’s influence. He knew John Smibert (see April’s issue) and probably was a frequent visitor to the art shop/studio. There is evidence that the young artist studied under Joseph Blackburn (1700-1765?) who had a studio in Boston from 1750-1765. Here, Copley learned the Rococo method of light, color and portrait d’apparat (which is when the artist adds objects that are associated with the sitter’s life).

Portrait of Mrs. Joseph Mann (1753)

Above is one of his earliest works, Portrait of Mrs. Joseph Mann (1753), which he painted when only 15.  His style follows the rest of the current portrait trends. But then only four years later you can see a remarkable change (probably due to Blackburn’s guidance) in the painting below, Portrait of Ann Fairchild Bowler (1758). Speaking of Blackburn the teacher became severely jealous of Copley’s future success, which makes sense considering many of his works were attributed to Copley.

Portrait of Ann Fairchild Bowler (1758)

While Copley wasn't exactly an overnight success in the colonies, he did gain popularity and commissions quickly. Why not, considering what other artists were doing, as we've seen in my previous newsletters. He was simply amazing and basically self-taught. In 1766, he had a rare opportunity came when he was allowed to exhibit his work in England at the Society of Artists show. His friend Benjamin West, also American born

The Boy with a Squirrel (1765)

artist living in England, made it happen. Copley submitted the amazing painting, The Boy with a Squirrel. The boy was his half-brother, Henry Pelham, who also went on to be a celebrated painter and engraver. And it was through this show that Copley gained accolades from across the pond. 

Copley was unhappy with his situation in Boston, considering it just a backwater port. The real action was happening in Europe. While his friend West continued to badger him about moving to England, he had to stay. Firstly, he was making good money, 300 guineas a year—more than anyone else in his position and secondly, he had a family obligation: his mother and half-brother. So he continue to live in Boston, eventually marrying, building a house on the west side of Beacon Hill, having six children. With his popularity and high income, Copley became part of the local aristocracy, painting state dignitaries, wealthy merchants families and portraits and church leaders. He even visited and painted dignitaries in New York City and Philadelphia.

In time though,  the political environment began to heating up. In 1773, the Boston Tea Party occurred. His father-in-law actually owned the tea that was tossed over board. I can well imagine the tension created by that event for the family. I  never even thought about the person or persons who owned the tea. How angry they must have been.

In any event, I think we tend to forget that a lot of the people in the colonies considered themselves English citizens or Loyalists. I remember when visiting Concord/Lexington and hearing the story of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. We learned that he would have never shouted, “The British are coming.” They were all British, instead he most likely warned, “The regulars are coming,” meaning soldiers. Interesting to consider another perspective.

It’s not surprising then to learn that Copley sailed for Britain the next year, leaving his half-brother in charge of his family. Perhaps part of this nine-month adventure was an attempt to check out England for a future move. More likely though he was able to finally see and do what he had wanted for so long: to tour Europe and its great sites (art too). He visited Paris, Rome, Naples, the excavation of Pompeii and other places in order to improve his education and art.

By May of 1775, boat loads of refugees were leaving Boston, headed for England. On one such ship was Copley’s wife and children. When he returned to London a few months later, he and his family settled in the posh neighborhood of Hanover Square. He never would return to America, although he wanted to go back home. Instead, he stayed in England and became a proper “English” artist, winning more fame and fortune.

It was during this period that Copley created one of his masterpieces, Watson and the

Watson and the Shark (1778)

Shark. At the time, portraits and historical paintings were given the highest praise and attention; still life and landscape were given a back seat. It wasn't until J. M. W. Turner, (1775-1851) that landscape (and even watercolor) would be given any credibility. Most of the historical paintings stemmed from the Bible, mythology or battles—all lost in a distant past. But Copley and his friend West wanted to do more contemporary historical pieces. Watson and the Shark was based on a shark attack to a fellow artist, Brook Watson, at 14 years of age. I was enraptured when I saw this painting. Not only is the composition and skill-level spot on but the drama is heart-wrenching.

While in England he continued to receive commissions from the elite and earn a handsome income. And as with most celebrities, even today, he was leading a very expressive lifestyle. So much as that when the hard times hit during the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815), he actually had to lean on his son (John, Lord Lyndhurst—barrister and future Lord Chancellor) to take care of his expenses. He died in 1815 in debt, which his son cleared so that his wife could stay in the house in Hanover Square. He created over 350 works of art. He is considered the most influential American artist from the colonial time. His style and realism influenced many future artists all way into the 19th century.

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For classes and workshops go to website: www.jillgoodell.com

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Please note: In error, I stated that Copely was consider the Amercian Raphael when in fact, it was Benjamin West who was given that honor. My apologies.

When art changed in colonial America

Printable Newsletter Version

If one were to pinpoint a time when art changed in colonial America, it would be the day John Smibert landed in Boston in 1730. Although considered only competent as an artist in London, where the competition was stiff, Smibert became a celebrity in the colonies. Even more, he was someone who had been formally trained and was willing to share his knowledge of what he had learned academically as well as travels to Italy.

Within four years of his arrival, he opened a shop, selling art supplies as the advertisement shows below. Upstairs, he also had a bundle of his copied work of Masters from his time in Italy: Raphael, Titian, Poussin, Van Dyck and more.

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Advertisements. "John Smibert, painter, Sells all sorts of colours, dry or ground, with oils and brushes. ... Wholesale or retail at reasonable rates, at his house in Queen-Street, between the Town-House and the orange tree, Boston," 1734

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Here was an opportunity for so many art-starved artists to learn how to paint. Traditionally, most artists learned how to draw and/or painting under the tutelage of a master. All the greats did it—Michelangelo, da Vinci, Raphael. Another method was to learn through imitation, copying other people’s work in order to learn the tricks of the trade.

Let me step back a bit here and give you a brief history on artists in training up until the late Renaissance. For over four hundred years, young men (sorry, girls weren't allowed) were brought into a guild or workshop to study under masters as apprentices. Eventually, after a minimum of six years or so, the apprentice would strike out independently, become a master and hire his own apprentices. The master's work was not easy. He had to not only train his apprentices, but also look for work--commissions, negotiated the fees, prepare the contracts, purchase all the materials, actually create/design the work and then collect the money. In other words, he became a businessman and master artist!

Back then painters were painters and they took every type of job from decorating furniture and altar pieces to portraits and frescos. They were considered tradesmen or craftsmen. The whole idea of being divinely inspired or gifted didn't come into being until after the Renaissance (which ran roughly from the 1300s to the 1700s).  In time, the guilds lost favor (lots of politics) and the academic world took over training young men to be artists. That’s when something terrible happened—well, at least in my opinion. Suddenly, the skill in learning art became a divine gift and only those with that gift could be trained. While researching this article, I ran across this quote that epitomizes this thought process:

 "All this may appear incredible [teaching art in a guild environment] to those who feel that the role of the art school is to encourage and train the already gifted. [Today], we do not believe that education alone can create a good artist: some kind of talent, of inspiration (divine or otherwise) marks a person for further artistic study. In fact, students are not admitted to most art schools unless they give some indication in their portfolio of artistic ability. The idea that almost anyone, given enough time and enough experience, can give a creditable artistic performance would sound like nonsense to most art school teachers." Source: Bruce Cole, The Renaissance Artist at Work: From Pisano to Titian, New York: Harper & Row, 1983 

As most of you know, I vehemently disagree with this school of thought. I have now taught over 2,000 people the skill of drawing. I have seen over and over again people walking into my classroom, believing they can’t draw and leaving knowing they can! Yes, there are some people who have a natural ability, such as Mozart with music, Albrecht Dürer with drawing or Blaise Pascal with mathematics. However, most artists can be trained to see, to really see and then to translate that to paper, canvas, clay or whatever medium he or she is using. It’s not divine intervention. It’s simply hard work.

Although somewhat of a long explanation of what type of art training European men were receiving in the 1730s, it just wasn’t happening in the colonies.  Instead, as we’ve learned, artists were just scraping by, both economically and academically. Most colonial children were not given a formal education and if they were, because they were from wealthy families, the education was provided by tutors. And the subject matter was basic: reading, writing, simple math, poems, and prayers. Our early colleges (Harvard being the oldest at 1636), were created to train the clergy. Thus, there was no real place to learn art, other than needlepoint, which is what the girls were learning from tutors or governesses.

So you see, Smibert opened new doors for artistic study in the Boston area with his plaster casts (of human form) and copies of masters’ work. Now, artists in training could truly take their work a step further. I can only imagine how exciting this must have been for the artists living in Boston proper. Not only would I have been able to get fresh, new supplies at an "art shop," but also a glimpse of work done through the ages. (We take all our visual opportunities today, such as books, television, museums, Internet, for granted.) Of course artists flocked to his shop. After his death, it actually became the center of art for Boston, giving birth to future, American-born artists such as John Singleton Copley (1738 – 1815) and John Trumball (1756-1843). Some say it was the first American workshop for artists in colonial America.

Smibert’s work

But his shop wasn’t Smibert’s only business. After all, he was a working artist. While his reputation may not have been spectacular in London, Smibert was rather celebrated in Boston. His abilities and skills were far and above anyone else's, since most other artists here were self-taught. One of his first paintings created in the New World was, The Bermuda Group now at Yale University. 

The Bermuda Group (Dean Berkeley and His Entourage), begun in 1728, finished 1739.

Back in London he had befriended Bishop Berkeley who wanted to open a college in Bermuda with Smibert heading up the fine arts department. As things played out though, the college never happened. 

The Bermuda Group set the colonial art stage on fire. No one had ever painted like this in the colonies. The complexity, detail and realism were awe-inspiring. While those in contemporary England may have been highly critical of the painting, pointing out its mistakes, those in this new land, saw it as a masterpiece. It's the old, big fish in a small pond idea. By the way, off to the far left some believe stands the artist. He was certainly leading the way for other artists.

While, I suppose, Smibert was just trying to do everything he could to drum up business, his efforts had a far lasting effect on early American art. He literally gave a head start to budding artists, whom we enjoy to this day.

Join me next month to learn about John Singleton Copely, the first American-born artist who made it “big.”

For classes and/or workshops go to website: www.jillgoodell.com