A Brandywine Moment

Some weeks ago I was tooling down I95 on the east coast, bringing my son to school in Baltimore after his Winter break. (I know! I can't believe I'm old enough to do that either!) Here was a golden opportunity to see one of the exhibits I've been waiting for, actually for years. The Howard Pyle show that marks a century since his passing. It was practically on our way, and I was not about to just pass by. I'd been making some noise about it, so everyone in the car knew we would be there for a bit.

The Delaware Art Museum in Wilmington, was founded in 1912 with the purpose of gathering and housing Pyle's work. It has become one of the premier museums in the country concerning Illustration, and they have a nice handle on Pre-Raphaelite works as well. I've seen a lot of Pyle's works over the years, and I'm familiar with a broad swath of his imagery— I was keen to see what might surprise me there.

Most of the important works are there, Attack on a Galleon, Marooned, and one on my favorites, The Flying Dutchman. I still can't get over the size of that piece, it's enormous, almost 6' tall! It's obvious that some pieces he did for love of painting, and some were assignments. Here's two that caught me off guard.

The first is a piece —the Angel—I used to close my Dover plate book on Pyle. Why seek Ye, the Living Among the Dead? is a real exercise in contrasts and value control. What surprised me was that the original, as photographed here, is so much lighter overall than the reproductions I've become familiar with. Another was this image in gray, or en grisaille, (Pyle and others painted this way sometimes to better suit works to be interpreted by engravers) from Hawthorne's Wonder Book (Stay tuned for more on that ...) The edition with the Pyle illustrations is quite scarce, and I hadn't had a chance to see these before. The light in the piece When All the World was Young was phenomenal, it absolutely glowed from across the gallery room. There is a homestead in the distance at the furthest visible point, very specific, I imagine it must be an actual location. Any ideas?

The show is at the Delaware Museum until March 4th, when it travels north to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Mass., (where I will undoubtedly see it again) June 9th to October 28th. The book that accompanies the exhibit may be the best book on Pyle's work to date, I highly recommend it.

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Lots to come in the next few weeks...including the new collection Alice Illustrated—back shortly.

Getting things Dunn

Last week was "Illustration Week" in NYC. It was declared so by the mayor—and gave NYC an excuse to tout the rich history of illustration that has passed through it, in the publishing houses, the schools, and of course the illustrators themselves. The Society of Illustrators made the most of it, with a week of special guests, lectures, and events. I was happy to add my two cents late in the week with a lecture on the illustrations of Alice in Wonderland, previewing my upcoming Dover book to the Lewis Carroll Society of North America— who happened to hold their annual Fall meeting in NYC that same week. It was a busy week following up a trip to Illuxcon, which all means a longer than usual absence from the blog. Let's get back on track.

I try not to turn to book reviews for subject matter when posting—but one came into the studio recently, that so completely covers an artist I've wanted to feature, that I can't ignore the book and the material it so masterfully displays. Harvey Dunn (1884-1952) came through Howard Pyle's Brandywine school, but with a direction all his own (primarily, a western one). I've looked for works by Dunn before with the hope of compiling a post of his works, but until now his work has not been as well collected as some of his other Pyle school alums. The right man for this challenge was Walt Reed. Walt is a legend in American illustration. He and his son Roger run Illustration House in NYC—a gallery for original illustration works, and Walt is the author behind numerous major books on illustration, most importantly, The Illustrator in America, 1860-2000. I consider this book the first stop for much of the research I do, and it would be required reading for my class were it still in print.

Harvey Dunn: Illustrator and Painter of the Pioneer West is expertly compiled, both in its selection of images and the accompanying texts. The section that I find most interesting is in the end of the volume, where a small book called "An Evening in the Classroom" from 1934 has been reprinted in its entirety, giving fantastic insight into Dunn's teaching approach. Don't let this one slip by you.

W. J. Aylward, Old salt from Wisconsin....

It seemed like a fair moment to share with you some of the work of one of my favorite marine painters, and by the end of the post, it'll be clear as to why.

In previous VIEW postings, we've already looked at Gordon Grant, and Anton Otto Fischer, both excellent marine painters. There was plenty of work depicting shipping during the Golden Age, it is a subject that has it's own tricks, and for those that "knew the ropes," there was plenty of work to be had. The next in the seafarer's group is W. J. Aylward. (1875-1956). Aylward was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The son of a ship-builder and lake captain, (for those who didn't do well in geography, Milwaukee sits on the southwest edge of Lake Michigan, and is actually a port city in middle America...) Aylward's fondness for marine subjects stayed with him his entire career.

Aylward was a Brandywine Alumni, and was fortunate enough to receive one of Howard Pyle's career-making "field trips". Pyle had helped arrange for Frank Schoonover to get to the Canadian wild, and for N. C. Wyeth to travel out West. He helped Aylward get assigned (through President Roosevelt, no less) to write about and illustrate an incredible sea journey, with the floating dry-dock "Dewey". The culmination of this project came to be printed in the May 1907 issue of Scribner's Magazine, with 20 pieces of work, four of them full page.

Aylward did lots of magazine work, for the likes of Youth's Companion, Scribner's, and Harper's Magazines, among others. Books too, where the story was right—In the early part of his career, 1904— he caught a big break in getting an assignment to do Jack London's Sea Wolf. 20 years later was the other end of that run, with the 1925 edition of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
In 1950, while still teaching, he published a small book through Pitman Publishing—Ships and How to Draw Them, though somewhat light in the way of instruction, it has some nice grayscale work, and if you're interested in the material, could be worth tracking down. (see the "Looking Forward" illustration, above)

There's a nice start at looking up Aywlard on Paul Giambarba's great site, 100 Years of Illustration and Design

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In Dover News- Friday I got my hands on an advance copy of A Dulac Treasury. It'll be trickling out soon, and I'll let you know as soon as it is attainable. Shakespeare Illustrated is currently at press, and Great Illustrations by N. C. Wyeth, whew, that's almost wrapped up. Next post, I should finally be able to give you some news about the new season of Calla Editions.

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And in a week of nautical art— it's worth a mention that my own sea-faring work is currently being shown at Krab Jab Studios, in Seattle, if you're out in that direction.

Hard to find Sidney Chase

Sidney Chase (1877-1957) is a lesser known Brandywine Alumni. I first found Chase's work combing through century old issues of Scribner's Magazine, and then found his name again, while reading about N. C. Wyeth.

Chase was originally from Massachusetts, near Boston. While attending the Eric Pape School of Art, around 1900, he met a few fellow students that would rise to the challenges of being accepted as students of Howard Pyle—Among them was N. C. Wyeth— with whom he wrote to regularly over the years.

Most of the information I was able to find on Chase, is due to his friendship with Wyeth. As Wyeth struggled to find his place somewhere between the art museum and the illustration assignment, he had less and less respect for his fellow classmates who embraced illustration without reserve. Very few of them earned his regard. Sidney Chase was one of the few that Wyeth maintained some degree of respect and friendship for.

Looking over this set of pieces done for an article in a 1908 issue of Scribner's Magazine , it is easy to see that the work deserves some amount of respect either way. This kind of coastal Maine life was a favorite subject of Chase's— and would come to be one of Wyeth's as well- around 1920 Wyeth and Chase split the cost of a house in Maine, where both would go for years in the future to find inspiration for painting.

Chase went on to achieve fair commercial success, getting work from the larger magazines of the day, sometimes (as with this story on Maine fishing) as author-illustrator. Like Wyeth, he later turned away from illustration, looking to find a deeper meaning and satisfaction in painting. Chase did mostly watercolor work later in his career.

At the end of his life in 1957, Chase had left wishes that his remaining work be destroyed, wishes that for the most part were complied with. It makes the sight of his illustrations that much more of a rare treat.

Anton Otto Fischer, 8 years at sea makes a better marine painter

There were a few illustrators to study under Howard Pyle in Delaware that specialized in marine work—meaning they painted a lot of ships and sea related imagery. A century ago ships were a much bigger presence in our lives, being the sole option for travel to Europe, and one to consider for travel almost anywhere from one coast to another. One of the finest marine painters to come through the Brandywine Valley was Anton Otto Fischer. (1880-1962) Fischer was German born, but came to America while in his twenties after spending almost eight years at sea. It was this kind of life experience that Pyle liked to see his students partake in, to give their pictures life, and authenticity. I'd bet it was a feature that Pyle would have embraced in Fischer. In 1910 Fischer caught a break by being paired up with Jack London, and for the next few years he often did work for London's stories.
During World War II Fischer served as an official war artist in the Coast Guard, aboard the cutter "Campbell". During a long career in illustration, Fischer worked for magazines such as Harper's Weekly, The Saturday Evening Post and Life, and was painting private commissions right up to the end.

Check the Post link above- it's a great gallery of some of Fischer's covers.
and there's a large slide show of Fischer work here, though accompanied by some music I can't seem to turn off...
and a great group at American Art Archives

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I got news today that my application for full membership to the Society of Illustrators has been accepted. This organization has a rich history from deep in the Golden Age, greatly related to the kind of imagery and work I present here on VIEW. Most of the American illustrators I present here were members of the Society, and it's nothing less than an honor to be carrying on their tradition.

Snowday, Wyeth style

I start this post in the immediate aftermath of a Northeast blizzard, one strong enough to shut down the railroad, and grant me a snow-day to follow the Christmas break.

It occurred to me that a new bunch of N. C. Wyeth (1882-1945) prints that have trickled into the studio share this wintry vision. Living where I do, it's not uncommon to see some snow on the ground from December to March, and it always surprised me that it doesn't show up in more work, from anyone who lives in the north. N. C. must've liked the snow as well, because looking over a group of his early works, a large percentage of them are snow scenes, including one of my most favorite Wyeth pieces. Seemed like a good theme to explore on a snow-day. Without taking it for granted—Newell Convers Wyeth is one of the most important illustrators of the twentieth century. He joined Howard Pyle, studying under him at the Brandywine, and Wyeth soon became Pyle's star pupil. Wyeth had an incredibly prolific career in both book and magazine work. He was also the patriarch of what became America's first family of art, with his son Andrew Wyeth, and grandson Jamie Wyeth being the central figures of three generations of Wyeth artists.

The images— a few nice covers from The Popular Magazine, including this cover with a Yukon adventure look to it- Polar bear, Native Americans, a trusty Colt .45. A second features one of N.C.'s strong solitary thinkers, in this case, a poacher...
A few plates from The Outing Magazine, January 1907- from a story entitled "How they Opened the Snow Road"
and a pair of plates from two classics—
The frontispiece from Mark Twain's last novel, The Mysterious Stranger (a read which I enjoyed tremendously in my college days)
and a piece I have the highest amount of respect for, from Robert Louis Stevenson's The Black Arrow, (also a good read)

Wyeth used snow in many of these pieces the way he used dust in his even earlier (or contemporary) western themed works—providing a light field, it helps him to increase contrast and strengthen shadows. He also frequently simplified figurative areas into definitive shapes, and obscured the details of distant backgrounds that would otherwise distract from the focus of the piece.

Stay warm. See you in the New Year, here's to a good one!

Brandywine, continued

After mulling over the last post, I believe it might be good to supply some background information on the "Brandywine school." I've been knee-deep in the works of its participants for a good many years now, but I know that may not be the case for everyone, especially someone in school now, or just coming to know this group of illustrator/painters. So even though we touched base with Howard Pyle last entry, I want to explain a bit about the movement he was such a catalyst for.

"Brandywine" refers to a valley, and a river, that exist in southeast PA (just west of Philadelphia), and the northernmost part of Delaware. The "Brandywine School" is a phrase talked about frequently in circles concerning early American illustration. It is a movement, not literally a school, though there were two schools that had a great deal to do with this movement getting off the ground, Drexel University, from 1894-1900, and Howard Pyle's own school, from the years 1900-1905.

Geography. This area was a real breeding ground for fertile imagination. It was far enough removed, that it still had very wild and native looking forest, perfect backdrops for images concerning the early history of our nation. At the same time, it was close enough to two of the biggest publishing cities in the northeast, New York (by train) and Philadelphia, so that an aspiring illustrator could maintain business contacts.

History. Not only is the area steeped in Revolutionary history, but a generation before Howard Pyle, Felix O'Darley was working in these parts. O'Darley was one of the earliest illustrators to break from stayed, dry poses in search of action. Howard Pyle spent some time in New York at the early part of his career, but longed for and eventually returned to the Brandywine Valley. After teaching at Philadelphia's Drexel University, he decided to open his own school, where he went on to hand pick his own students. The goal here was not financial, it was about Pyle passing on his trade, and his success, to the next generation of artists. The Howard Pyle School of Art ran from studios that Pyle had built in the Wilmington area, and held summer classes out of an old Mill in Chadd's Ford PA. This mill is the very building you will visit today, if you head on down to the Brandywine Museum. If this material speaks to you as it does to me, this experience borders on religious. It is truly a pilgrimage for any student of illustration.

Results. Pyle saw about 110 students in those few years. Their timing, and his, was very fortuitous—Publishing was going through its biggest boom, and there was plenty of work, in books, magazines, and newspapers, to go around. It seems that most of the students that possessed any serious ambition had little or no problem finding work after training under Pyle, and publishers were happy to have them.

Style and Content. When an image is described as being from the Brandywine school, it usually means it comes from Pyle, one of his students, or one of their students. Many, many of Pyle's pupils admired him enough to feel a need to carry on, and do as he had done for them. His ethics and methods have been impressed upon generations of artists. Pyle's love for historical subjects, from early Norse myths to the American Civil War—comprise a large percentage of his work, and there are few historical painters who do not claim the Brandywine group as influential. Palette, composition, focus, accuracy of details (especially historical) are all features that may lend to a piece being called "of the Brandywine school".
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The Brandywine Tradition by Henry Pitz, the definative history of what makes a piece from the Brandywine school-
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A shot of Pyle and a group of students at the Mill at Chadd's Ford, in 1902. What I would give to have had that opportunity. Pyle is the one in the hat, standing in the doorway.

Jeff

Where it all started (American illustration)

It is a bit surprising to me that we've gotten this far down the road without looking at Howard Pyle (1853-1911) yet. If I hadn't been knee deep in Willy Pogány books at the time, it very likely would have been Pyle we kicked things off with. There are two very good reasons.

The first is personal; my own fascination with Golden-age illustration began in the late 70's, at a yard sale in Rahway, New Jersey. A rather large Victorian household had rows and stacks of stuff all up and down its long driveway. Here I found incredible amounts of what I now believe to be press proofs, from the printing presses of Harpers magazines. I bought all I could afford at the time, which unfortunately wasn't much. (If I came across this sale nowadays, I can't imagine the financial stress it would cause me...) I beleive these were proofs because I now know the publications these images came from. The sheets these prints are on, while being either similar to press stock or tissue, are noticeably larger than the publications were....

This is where I first found Howard Pyle, and a number of his contemporaries, but Pyle's work captured my attention the most. The plate that really got me; is this one at the top right. This engraving so far surpassed other work I was familiar with... it had real emotion, character, storytelling, ATTITUDE. And that was all in one piece of black and white work. Check out the guys in the background, and their reaction to this yankee privateer—

Fast forward to 1984. After seeing the work I was producing, my second year painting teacher asks me to bring in some of what I think is good work. I bring him books of the hottest science fiction and fantasy book-jacket guys of the day. He asks if I 've ever heard of the Brandywine school, and sends me to the library. Thanks, Mr. Fritz.

The second (and far less personal) reason Pyle is so important, is; I do not believe there has been a single more influential artist than Pyle on American illustration. (listen for feathers ruffling) He was the biggest rock to go in the pond. Ripples? Practically immeasurable. During an immensely successful career, Howard Pyle decided it was his calling to teach his craft, not to numb masses filing through modern art schools, but to a select group, the best of the best, hand-picked by Pyle himself. He had a great eye for talent, apparently, because his first-generation students are among the tops in all of American illustration, during the first half of the 20th century. Cream of that crop? Frank Schoonover, Harvey Dunn, Stanley Arthurs, Elizabeth Shippen-Green, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Anton Otto Fisher, William James Aylward...whew. Pyle crossed brushes with a young upstart by the name of Maxfield Parrish—already taking on big jobs before he got to Pyle's school—Pyle told him he was already well on his way, and was in no need of his teachings. Oh, yeah, then there was that N. C. Wyeth fellow. Nice guy. And many of Pyle's students became teachers as well, spreading it on down. Ripples.

Any of these artists warrant a page of their own here on VIEW. Most have had a page or three elsewhere, hence the links. (Again, Jim Vadeboncouer has blazed the trail here) Most will get one. Pyle will get a few, for different aspects of his work; Wyeth and Parrish, yes, they are also a multi-page guys. More to follow on this soon-

Jeff