Pit-fired stoneware vessels, Dean Dunkel

Trying to wrestle the mythic, transformative “power of art” to the ground in casual conversational terms is the humble goal of this on-going series. This Thursday night, October 22nd, ceramic artist Dean Dunkel will be the featured speaker. The organic forms of the Cedar Rapids artist’s stoneware vessels have been developed over the period of fifteen years of studio work, and are recognizable for their irregular, fluid profiles.

While inviting people to attend this event at the gallery, I found myself using the simplest of terms” “Why should I care?”, “Why do you care?”. I was reminded of the importance of these same questions when Craig and I recently traveled to New York and Boston. We had the chance to visit two great museums, The Metropolitan in NYC and Boston’s Museum of Fine Art. Always, when I visit museums I am awed by seeing the “stars”- those images that are reproduced in every basic text about art. There’s nothing like being in the presence of the real thing. This time, however, I was struck by my attention being drawn to pieces that were not the celebrities. Importantly, in Boston, I marveled at the power of a self-portrait by the American painter Ellen Day Hale.

Self Portrait, Ellen Day Hale

I didn’t know anything about Hale except the dates of her life which were printed on the label that identified her painting: 1855 - 1940. She was a contemporary of the fabulously famous John Singer Sargent.

Lady Agnew, John Singer Sargent

I found her likeness as a 30 year-old woman so filled with a command of her medium and the spirit of her subject: herself. Not to diminish the painterly elegance of Sargent, but the direct gaze of Hale’s face was so much more compelling than what I was seeing in Sargent. I wrote down Hale’s name as a reminder to learn more about her.

As it happens, Hale had a rich life. She was from a noted Boston family, the Beecher Hales. Her father was a well-known orator and pastor. Her great-aunt was the writer, Harriet Beecher-Stowe. She and her seven younger brothers were all encouraged by their mother to draw, and she helped promote the artistic career of her brother Philip. That her own career was valued is evident inasmuch as she studied with the prominent American artists, William Morris Hunt and William Rimmer. Indeed, her emergence as an artist occurred at the same time when a critic proclaimed, “There is nothing that men do that is not done by women now in Boston.” (!) Hale would go on to attend the prestigious Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, and then on to study in Paris.

Gabrielle de Veaux Clements by Ellen Day Hale

In 1883, she met her life-long companion, the Philadelphia artist, Gabrielle de Vaux Clements, and learned from her how to make etchings. They taught. She wrote. She painted. They had vacation homes where artists regularly visited in a circle of easy friendship. Though she moved to Washington D.C. to be her father’s hostess when he was appointed to be the chaplain for the U.S. Senate in 1904, she would continue to “summer” with Gabrielle in Massachusetts. Eventually, they also wintered in Charleston. The outward balance and the breadth of Hale’s artistic activity intrigues me. After viewing images of other works, I found that I enjoyed an etching for its richness, but the paintings that I saw were disappointing when matched with forthright strength of her self-portrait. It’s as if the self-portrait was a single moment of aesthetic clarity in a life-time of forgettable work! That’s an incredibly harsh conclusion. I wish that I could go hear her speak.

Come see Dean. The opportunities to speak with artists about their work are rare treats indeed!

Recognizing the stylistic differences amongst the painters who since 1874 when they were first ridiculed by critics as “Impressionists”, was a daunting task to me as a young art major. All those pastel colored landscapes with women drifting through them in gauzy white dresses- honestly, my first response was, “Who cares?” But, I did come to care, and be excited about the aesthetic perseverance of those whom I regard as the “heavy-hitters” of this loosely associated group. I love a world that has in it Degas’ drawings, Mary Cassatt’s aqua-tints, Seurat’s drawings (NEO-impressionist that he was), and Monet’s water-lilies.

Water Lilies, Claude Monet

Created at Giverny, the home that he purchased with the proceeds from his first successful sale, the water lily paintings are the culmination of a lifetime’s work. Monet’s subject dissolves as the rhythm of color and light transcend the notion of a “picture of something”. Art historian, John Canaday, likens these late works of Monet to Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings. At first, I was struck by the cheekiness of this comparison of an Impressionist’s works to those of the mythic giant of Abstract Expressionism, but I think it’s simply brilliant- like Pollock’s drip paintings, the edges of the water-lily paintings seem arbitrary, as if image extends beyond them. Likewise, the drama of these pieces lies in their grand scale and the bravura of their execution.

Convergence, Jackson Pollock

As a place that inspired Monet’s tireless examination of light, color, form, and rhythm, Giverny has become a destination for tourists to see what he saw. Sharon Burns Knutson did just that. She also drew what she saw. Leafing through her oil pastels of this legendary site, I was entranced by her personal vision, sensitivity, and industry. Few artists I know go on vacation and get more work done than this mighty, little woman! It was also a pleasure to be reminded of the breath-taking scope of another artist’s creative power- especially when that artist’s work has seemed too easily pigeon-holed by passing time.

Oil crayon on black paper, Sharon Burns-Knutson

Hope you’ll stop by!