Winslow Homer, The Fox Hunt (1893)

The important picture of the year 1893 was "The Fox Hunt." It has been variously known as the " Fox and Crows" and "Winter." The subject of this work is very novel, and requires a word of explanation as to the fact in natural history of which it is a dramatic illustration. In the depths of winter, when for long intervals the ground is covered with snow in Maine, it has been observed that a flock of halfstarved crows will occasionally have the temerity to attack a fox, relying on their advantage of numbers, the weakened condition of the fox, and the deep snow, which makes it peculiarly difficult for the victim either to defend himself or to escape. This, then, is the curious occurrence that Homer took for the subject of his picture, which is as original and forcible as the rest of his productions. In the snow which covers the foreground, near the shore, a weary and harassed fox is running painfully along, in his vain effort to find a refuge from his approaching foes. Two savage crows already hover nearly over him, ready to strike, and the rest of the hungry flock is seen coming rapidly to the spot from the direction of the shore. The canvas is large enough to permit the representation of a life-size fox, and the reddish color of his coat and brush in the midst of the expanse of white makes an interesting point in the color scheme. The ocean is visible in the distance, and overhead is a dark gray wintry sky, in which there are only two small rifts, allowing a cold silvery light to fall on the water near the left side of the picture. The green surf breaks on the rocks and throws up a cloud of spray. There is something uncommonly impressive and solemn about this stern and frigid landscape, and it seems a fit theatre for the impending catastrophe. The painting of the drifted snow in the foreground is exceedingly interesting in the delicate gradations of the values on the undulating surface, in the delicacy of its color, which is apparently very simple, yet is full of variety. The sky also is one that perhaps no other painter except Homer would have the courage to oppose to such a foreground, or, rather, that few other painters would be able to put in its right place.

Mr. Fowler cites this picture as an example of the fine sense of quantities in space that characterizes so markedly much of Homer's best work. "The disposition of the forceful spots in this rectangle is most happy," he writes. "The strong and daring mass of black offered by the crows in the upper right-hand corner, suggesting an even greater volume to the mass by the partly disappearing wings and the approaching numbers of crows — this black, modified and broken by the reflected light on the feathers and the surface light on the beaks, is further distributed by the accents of dark carried to the ears and left forepaw of the fox with fine judgment and effect. So much for the strong and organic notes of the picture. Nothing could show better control of these forcible accents than the manner in which the artist has chosen to place them on the canvas and then given them cohesion by silhouetting these telling spots of black against a darkened sky, and placing the lighter tonal value  

of the fox against the snow. The space in front of the fox suggests much distance for his apprehensive flight — the very direction of his head and ears unites these two active quantities of the scene."1
William Howe Downes, The Life and Works of Winslow Hiomer, 1911

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Dapper, small, inquisitive, shrewd, I see his portrait in the furry animal in the wonderful Fox Hunt.  Sometimes Maine winters were so severe that flocks of starving crows attacked foxes, and in Homer's view of the drama, two nightmare black birds (the nightmare of the flying black penis) swoop on a dainty fox encumbered in drifts of white snow.
--Thomas B. Hess. "Come Back to the Raft Ag'in, Winslow Homer Honey" New York Magazine June 11, 1973
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I found very disturbing Thomas Hess's review of the Winslow Homer Exhibit at the Whitney Museum.  While I don't wish to quarrel with Hess's reasonably plausible (although reductivist and sophomorically Freudian) interpretation of Homer's themes.  I feel it is a pity he allowed his view of the work to blind himself and his readers to its great pictorial beauty.


There is something depressingly cynical about finding "the nightmare of the flying black penis" in Homer's Fox Hunt while ignoring the painting's exquisite color and patterning (clearly influenced by Japanese prints), or in failing even to mention Homer's mastery of watercolor technique.  As for equating Homer with "amateurs and primitives" whose lack of control over their subject matter allows repressed or confused eroticism to surface, is Mr. Hess unfamiliar with Leonardo's St. John the Baptist?  What work of art does not reveal something unintended by its creator? 
Jilly Becker
Brooklyn
--Letter in New York Magazine July 2 1973
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Homer (1836-1910)
imagined nature, now immeasurably dis-
tanced from the world of Emerson, as a
cold and amoral environment of chance
and brutality, devoid of justice, except for
the inescapable rules of force.





Link:
Winslow Homer and the Drama of Thermodynamics

Thomas Eakins, William Rush Carving his Allegorical Figure of the Schuykill River (1877)

Jean-Leon Gerome: Selling Slaves in Rome (1867)

The Story of Pygmalion and Galatea (circa 1890)

Phrynne Before the Aereopagus 1861






Thomas Eakins
Study of a Seated Nude Woman Wearing Mask, c. 1865-66 





Gerome is a technically brilliant but banal story-teller, Eakins is a profoundly seeking artist,
whose search represents at the same time a different level of human insight.

--Art History without Value Judgements: Some Recent Appraisals of 19th Century Art

Author: Alfred Neumeyer

In the case of Gerome's Chessplayers compared to
Eakins' painting of the same subject Ackerman again
comes to the conclusion that "It is almost the same . ."
(p. 243). For identical reasons as in the previous examples
Eakins' picture is, however, just the opposite-a com-
pletely integrated oneness of content and form in an or-
ganized whole.

To see Gerome reincluded in our picture of the 19th
century is historically desirable but his work must be
measured against that of an Ingres of a Meissonier and
only then can his place become clear. His compositions
usefully can be compared to an Eakins but at closer ex-
amination the superficial likeness reveal the deeper
differences of character and style.

Susan McDowell: Photo of Samuel Murray, Thomas Eakins, and Willliam O'Donovan

Eakins graduated fifth in his class of fourteen. Many of his classmates enlisted to serve in the Union Army, but Benjamin Eakins, endorsing his son's wish to become an artist, paid for a substitute.
		Eakins lived in a neighborhood surrounded by Quaker families. Quaker culture was part of the normal life of Philadelphia. It's likely Eakins knew many Quakers that were exempt from service in the Civil War because of their religious faith.									AMY B. WERBEL, Ph.D. Art Historian, St. Michael's College
		The fact that an exemption was secured for him not to join the Union Army -- I think would have been the obvious choice -- was not so unusual. It probably strikes the modern mind as maybe cowardice or maybe special treatment. But it was done frequently and the usual sort of exchange was 300 dollars. And sometimes a replacement, a specific replacement often was secured. He indeed was paid and he went in place of the individual.									THOMAS J. SCHLERETH, Ph.D Historian, University of Notre Dame

PBS Website (http://www.pbs.org/eakins/t_1857_civil_war.htm)

'Lincoln and Grant', bronze sculptures by William Rudolf O'Donovan (men) & Thomas Eakins (horses), 1893-1894, Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn, New York City

William Rudolf O'Donovan and his bust of Walt Whitman (May 1891). Photograph byThomas Eakins.




One might have thought that so much new biographical data would have helped to resolve any lingering debates surrounding Eakins’s life, personality, and achievement. But three recent biographies—one by a writer on crime, one by a distinguished historian, and one by a respected specialist in American art—suggest the opposite. It is unsettling to read the books in succession, for they seem to describe three quite different men: a happily married heterosexual; a closeted homosexual married to a lesbian; and a neurotic victim of incest who felt compelled to remove his clothes in public. It is difficult to think of a parallel case of such divergent accounts of a well-known life.

Three Ways of Looking at Thomas Eakins

Christopher Benfey NYRB March 2007
7

Thomas Eakins, The Professional Rehearsal (1883)

Eakins has iron-bound limits in execution, but very remarkable originality. He has boldly seized on subjects never attempted before by artists of his training and parts, such as a water-colour of the national pastime called "Baseball," an oil-painting of an expert sculler seated in his outrigger, a sportsman "Whistling for Plover," and a view of the Delaware river covered with such uncouth sailing craft as factory operatives can obtain when they wish to take a sail. The picture here produced is not his best, but it is far from his worst; perhaps "Chessplayers" and one other, "Listening to Music," surpass it. The people's note is struck again. Here is the stage robbed of all  glamour, the actor and musician in shirt-sleeves, ding and devil-may-care, who tinkle on the zither in preparation for the evening's work.   It is peculiarly characteristic for just that reason, since Mr. Eakins is always inclined to put things as badly as possible, as if he had a perfect hatred of neat and showy outsides.
==Charles de Kay, "Movements in American Painting: The Charles Clarke Collection in New York," The Magazine of Art, 1887

...all amateurs, playing for friends and family in middle class parlors. How heroic! How far from the musicians Degas was painting, contemporaneously, in the bustling opera theaters of Paris. How far away from anything like stardom or fame.

Musicians holding and cradling their instruments are the only embraces we see in Eakins, but the sacredness with which his circle must have held their music--their only connection with the Lyre of Orpheus in the otherwise mundane world of a manufacturing city.

One can only imagine the wheezes, squeaks, and missed notes: the combination of pluck and embarrassment, not only of the performer, but of the audience, which knows that what it has come out to hear is not first rate or virtuoso. In a way, it can all be so depressing. Yet it is also brave. It's how artists live who don't live in New York. Nowadays, we're almost all audience. Eakins' people make their own music.

--Michael Neff, "Thomas Eakins: Realism and the Workmanlike Path to Transcendence," The Drexel Online Journal 2002

Sargent, Eakins, and Rembrandt Peale, Self-Portraits (1906, 1902, 1846)

                                                                                 circa 1885

"I have long been sick and tired of portrait  painting, and while I was painting my own 'mug' I firmly resolved to devote myself to other branches of art as soon as possible."

Thus Mr. Sargent was reported as speaking shortly after he had finished the wellknown self-portrait in the Uffizi Gallery.

--The American Magazine of Art, February 1917

John Singer Sargent, asked to present his self-portrait to the Uffizi, performed the exercise with glacial detachment.

Laura Cumming, A Face to the World:  on self-portraits (2009)

I
In his 1902 "Self Portrait" (National Academy of Design), he wears a shapeless black wool suit. His face has a sallow color of a man who's worked too hard for too little reward. He shows a brave man, burnt out. One yearns to call his image "undaunted," but is forced to see that he is very daunted, indeed.
Michael Neff, "Thomas Eakins: Realism and the Workmanlike Path to Transcendence" Drexel Online Journal 2002




I have always found it a heartbreaking picture, as brutally honest as Rembrandt looking at Rembrandt,.  Eakins is left with few illusions.  He sees himself straight.  One feels that he feels that he has failed, but failed with indefatigable defiance.
--Philip Hamburger, "Eakins in Boston," The New Yorker 1982

My honors are misunderstanding, persecution, and neglect, enhanced because unsought.
--Thomas Eakins, 1894, quoted in Elizabeth Johns, "Thomas Eakins: The Heroism of Modern Life" Washington Quarterly 1987







by Matthew Brady circa 1855

Rembrandt Peale, Rubens Peale with a Geranium (1801)

So skillful is his evocation of reality in this portrait that few have questioned its literal truth. As has been described, however, Rembrandt appears to have borrowed the striking design of this painting from pictorial schema he encountered in Netherlandish painting. And it is this unusual compositional format, this felicitous integration of sitter and attribute, that is key to our understanding of the sitter's intellectual pursuits and the artist's apparent desire to draw inspiration, not from the traditions of English portraiture as did many of his contemporaries, but instead from an allegorical work by the highly accomplished seventeenth-century Flemish painter David Teniers the Younger.

Exploring the art-historical lineage of Rubens Peale with a Geranium in no way mitigates its impressive individuality and widely acknowledged virtues of clarity, informality, and truth to nature. Rather, it enhances our understanding of the dedication and skill of two young men of the nation's first generation, Rembrandt Peale and Rubens Peale, who aspired to enrich their native soil by cultivating foreign seeds.

--Carol Eaton Soltis, "Rembrandt Peale's 'Rubens Peale with a Geranium': A Possible Source in David Teniers the Younger" American Art Journal 2002

Rembrandt Peale balanced the endearingly frank portrayal of his brother's weakness with a painstakingly tender portrayal of the geranium.  Each subject, man and plant, fills one half of the canvas.  On the viewer's left is Rubens, reserved and shy, and on the right the geranium, brilliant and luxurious, reaching towards the brother's head with lush leaves and vigorous sprouts.  The consummate rendering of the geranium matches the sympathetic likeness of the young man.
--Gunther Pal Barth, Fleeting Moments:Nature and Culture in American History (1990) 

Rembrandt Peale, The Court of Death (1820)

...I seek the shadowy vale
Of DEATH. — Deep in a murky cave's recess
Lav'd by Oblivion's listless stream, and fenc'd
By shelving rocks and intermingled horrors
Of yew' and cypress' shade from all intrusion
Of busy noon-tide beam, the MONARCH sits
In unsubstantial Majesty enthron'd.
At his right hand, nearest himself in place
And frightfulness of form, his Parent SIN
With fatal industry and cruel care
Busies herself in pointing all his stings,
And tipping every shaft with venom drawn
From her infernal store: around him rang'd
In terrible array and strange diversity
Of uncouth shapes, stand his dread Ministers:
Foremost Old Age, his natural ally
And firmest friend; next him diseases thick,
A motley train; Fever with cheek of fire;
Consumption wan; Palsy, half warm with life,
And half a clay-cold lump; joint-tort'ring Gout,
And ever-gnawing Rheum; Convulsion wild;
Swoln Dropsy; parting asthma; Apoplex
Full-gorg'd. — There too the Pestilence that walks
In darkness, and the Sickness that destroys
At broad noon-day. — These and a thousand more,
Horrid to tell, attentive wait; and, when
By Heaven's command DEATH waves his ebon wand,
Sudden rush forth to execute his purpose,
And scatter desolation o'er the Earth.
--from 

Death: a Poetical Essay. By Beilby Porteus, M.A. Fellow of Christ's College (1759)

The idea of the picture was suggested to the artist by a passage from the poem on death by Bishop Porteus. Death is personified by a dark, dim, shadowy figure in the center. His foot rests upon the corpse of a youth stricken down in the vigor of health. The feet and head of the corpse touch the waters of oblivion to indicate the mystery surrounding the beginning and end of life. On either side of the central figure are Death's principal agents, on the right War, attended by Conflagration and followed by Famine and Pestilence. War tramples upon the widow and orphan of his victim. On the left Pleasure kneels, enticing with her cup of intoxicants Intemperance, who stands next to her. From her urn rises the bewildering incense which obscures the presence of Death. Behind her is Remorse, his face covered with his hands. At the left of Intemperance are Suicide and Delirium Tremens. Still further to the left are other figures representing Consumption, Despair, Fever, Apoplexy, etc. Old age, bending under the infirmity of years, approaches Death. Having lived a Christian life, he meets the dread monarch with extended arms and cheerful resignation. This is a portrait of the painter's father, Charles Wilson PealeThe beautiful female figure supporting him is Hope, and this is the gem of the entire composition.


Canvas: h. 11 ft. 6 In., 1. 23 ft. 5 In. This Immense allegorical picture was painted in rivalry with Benj. West's famous "Death on the Pale Horse," now in the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts. For many years it was carried about the country, being exhibited in all the leading cities, and earned for Us owners a great deal of money. It later fell into the possession of the late Mr. S. A. Coale, a wellknown connoisseur, of St. Louis, from whom it was purchased in 1885 by Mr. George H. Scripps, who presented it to the Museum


HANDBOOK OF THE PAINTINGS ANCIENT AND MODERN, BELONGING TO THE DETROIT MUSEUM OF ART DETROIT:

Compiled By James E. Scripps. 1895

1 had previously painted the "Court of Death.'1 This was a picture twenty-four feet long, consisting of twenty-three figures—a pictorial discourse on life and death, being an attempt by personification to show the reality and necessity of death, and the charms of virtue, contrasted with vice and intemperance, and the horrors of war. It was the first attempt, in modern times, to produce moral impressions on the ancient Greek plan, without the aid of mythology, or conventional allegory, being as readily understood by the ignorant as the learned; and was the first public appeal in favor of temperance, before the establishment of societies for its promotion. It was exhibited with extraordinary success in our principal cities, and was recommended from several pulpits, and by the Corporation of New-York. Among the poetic effusions it has elicited the first stanza of one by Dr. Godman, is thus complimentary to the Artist. Shall I quote it?

THE COURT OF DEATH.

"Though the unsparing hand of time

Flings o'er earth his mantle gray •
Though towns and towers—though rocks sublime

Perish beneath his all-consuming sway ;—
Man! glorious in his strength! man, creature of a day,

Imparts to perishable things a charm

That doth the desolating power disarm,
And snatch from Glory's sun a never dying ray!

--in C. Edwards Lester, Artists of America, no. 5, 1846