“Talk in the M.U.D.” started this fall to explore, quite simply, why artists care about the things that they do, and why we should- or shouldn’t care. It’s free and open to the public.

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!