A Stolen Story

Over on his blog Red Tree Times artist Gary Myers has a short entry about a diner in Horseheads. This is, I believe, the diner setting for a great little story friends told me. In fact I like the story so much I'm going to steal it.

First off my friends moved here a few years ago. She was an instructor at the Rhode Island School of Design, and he moved here after being hired by Corning Inc. Gretchen is an artist and Ron a very accomplished amateur photographer. They both have a very strong interest in the arts, hitting openings on a regular basis and show their own work locally. 

One Sunday morning, shortly after moving here, they decided to try a diner in Horseheads, NY recommended by a friend.

The way they tell the story it was a leisurely breakfast reading the New York Times. After a while Gretchen pulled out her sketchpad and started drawing. The waitress came up and asked them if they wanted refills on their coffee, and she noticed Gretchen's sketchpad.

"Are you an artist?", she asked. Gretchen told her she was and that her husband was a photographer.

"That's so cool...you know my great-uncle is an artist," the waitress said.

To be polite Gretchen asked about the artist uncle. She imagined he was a retired art teacher (at best), or perhaps a senior citizen who painted as an enjoyable hobby. She wasn't expecting the answer she got.

"That's nice,"Gretchen said. "What does he paint?"

"Mostly landscapes and sometimes people, but he's really, really old now."

"What's your Uncle's name?"

"Andrew Wyeth."

True Story, though I haven't gone to the diner and asked about Andrew Wyeth's niece/ waitress, though every time I pass the diner it crosses my mind.

Here's the link to Gary Myers' blog entry on the diner.

My Andrew Wyeth Painting

In late August I was in Hammondsport,NY and ducked inside an antique shop to get out of the rain. Killing time I walked around and noticed this painting  hanging near the entrance. It was in a god-awful frame of cheap pine, the glass was all dusty, and my first thought was,"Andrew Weth print-badly framed.". After a turn around the shop I came back to the print. I'm always interested in anything Andrew Wyeth.

To my surprise the 'print' looked like an actual watercolor. I couldn't find a signature. The price was $50. I asked the lady working the desk if she had any information about the painting. She said the shop was a co-op and it wasn't one of her pieces - but I could take it outside in the better light if I wanted to examine it. I declined. The rain had stopped and the Hammondsport Square was filled for the Palette Auction. I walked out.

After the auction my friends wanted to browse so we ended up back inside the antique shop. I pointed  the painting out to them and said it was done in the 'style' of Wyeth, but it was unsigned. They encouraged me to buy the painting, saying even if it wasn't an actual Wyeth, it's still a nice watercolor. I hesitated. The style certainly looked like him: drybrush for the shrubs, fingernail dragged through darks, outstanding draftmanship...but the composition was bad. What was that white shape in front of the boat? A log? A bank of snow? And there was no signature. I know from my reading that Betsy had Andrew sign EVERYTHING, and his watercolors were usually signed "A.Wyeth" in pencil. Maybe there was a signature on the back of the painting? Stranger things had happened...heck they found a copy of The Declaration of Independence behind an old photo. You never know....

So I bought it. When I got home I took it apart to examine it closer. The paper was old. It had been taped off for a border. It was an original watercolor. There was nothing on the back, and no signature on the front. Hmmm...the size bugged me too. I knew Andy liked to paint on full-sized sheets, even when painting plein-aire. There are pictures of him walking around with 22x30s tucked under his arm. This painting is 15x19, an odd size.

So the painting sat for two months. My Mom noticed it on a visit and asked if I'd painted it. (Thanks Mom!) I half-thought about contacting The Brandywine Museum to see what they had to say. Life goes on though and I never got around to photographing it. Then a couple of weeks ago I was photographing some paintings and pulled it out. I took some digitals, wrote a quick email and sent it off to the Brandywine Museum, pretty much addressed: "To whom it may concern, or (whoever is interested). This is what  I wrote:

"Hello, I was wondering who I would contact to find out if this is an original Andrew Wyeth? I bought the painting in a Hammondsport, NY antique shop. It is an unsigned original watercolor on older wc paper 15x19. The painting is smaller with a border approx. 11x15.5. Any help would be appreciated. Thank You, Jeff Perrault"

Then I went for a run.

Of course while running I played out various scenarios: the kids getting their college education paid for by an old, forgotten Wyeth, no answer at all and i live with the mystery. My favorite scenario was somebody at the museum asking to see the painting in person, and me getting my picture taken with Betsy. When I got back from my run - no emails. Oh well.

Then at about dinner time I noticed an email from Mary Landa, and I must admit my pulse rate went up. Mary Landa is Betsy's personal assistant, and the one most knowledgeable about Andrew's paintings, (besides Betsy of course). She was there when Andrew revealed the Helga paintings to Betsy. She's the one putting the Catalogue Raisonne together. Apparently my email had been read, the attachments looked at, and it had been bumped up to the top. It was a definite "Holy Shit" moment. Here's the email:

"Forward: Mary, What do you think? Lora

Lora B. Englehart

Public Relations Coordinator"

and then: "Dear Mr. Perrault,This is a lovely little watercolor, but there is nothing to indicate it is by Andrew Wyeth. Wyeth’s records were quite complete and just about everything out there that was sold had a signature.

Thank you for sending this – I wish I could help track down the artist.  Mary Landa"
Darn! Double Darn! But hey, it is a "lovely,little watercolor" very skillfully done. It was way underpriced. I'll give it a decent frame and a home. (Still would have liked to have my pic taken with Betsy, though.)

Artist's Statements and Titles

A journalist to Sorolla: " Maestro, you have had such a brilliant success with works on social themes, will you please tell me what you think about them?" Sorolla: " My friend, I just paint pictures – other people do the explaining!"

For myself one of the most dreaded duties in the art business is writing an artist's statement. Galleries want them because it's good promo material. They can hand them out to interested collectors or as a media packet. But does anybody ever read them? And do they say anything? I bet most artists would say they just BS the whole statement. It's not hard. There is a whole lot of gobbledy-gook artspeak in the culture. Or they make a bland, generic statement about their love of light and form...

Artist Alex Kanevsky doesn't include an artist's statement because he wants his art to speak for itself. Yup...that's what I think too, and if it's good enough for Alex, it's good enough for me.(www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/2100445:BlogPost:32609) Come to think of it I've never read an artist statement from Wyeth, Sargent, Hopper, Homer, Innes, etc. either. When did it become de rigueur to have an artist statement? I'm going out on a limb here wondering if maybe it has something to do with that period when art needed to be explained? Maybe around the time of abstract and conceptual art?

One problem with writing an artist statement is that the darn thing is obsolete almost the minute I dot the last period. What I think about my work and my goals changes hourly, though it does tend in a general direction. (Okay maybe not hourly - but it changes.) It's why I have such a hard time titling pictures also. Picture titling is right up there with that odious artist statement. Maybe I'd just rather paint than write?

In my humble opinion the painting is a dialogue between viewer, painting and artist. Anything that comes between that dialogue siphons away some of the richness and power of the relationship. A title can do just that. Here's a list of some titles from paintings in an OPA catalogue: "So,What'll you have?", "Three's Company", "Imposing View", "Warm Winter Wishes", "Beloved Hope", "Grapes and Pears", "Wanna Ride?", "Lemons in Box", "Pigtails, Princess and Pilar". Without even looking I can say "Grapes and Pears" and "Lemons in Box" are still lifes. Gonna look now...Yup I was right. Think the viewer needed to know that? Wouldn't it have been better if the painting were "Untitled"? I mean it's lemons in a box so whatever emotional import the viewer brings, a title doesn't help them. But they look away from the painting to read the title and lose a moment to feel the painting. If it were up to me I'd have every single one of my paintings "Untitled", unless it was extremely important for me to give the viewer more info than the painting provides.

There's another reason titles and statements are dangerous, ie what the artist felt painting the picture may have nothing to do with the emotions I feel looking at the picture. Here's an example; take Wyeth's "Brown Swiss". When I look at that painting (or a repro) I'm about 16 or 17 sitting on a hill on a cold evening ,watching the shadows lengthen across a farm pond. I've got all the time in the world to sit and future to spend - yet I'm a little sad and scared because I don't know where that future will take me. The wind is sighing in the tiny pines behind me and I know soon I've got to go down the hill - but for a few moments I can sit here....

The reality is Wyeth painted that picture with completely different emotions. He knew the farmer in the house was German and that fact got all tied up with emotions about Wyeth's relationship with his father and family, with Karl Kuerner and Germany and ...cows. (Brown Swiss is a cow - I think.) All that means nothing to me when I look at the painting, nor should it. I have my own world I bring to the painting, and I don't need to know his reasons. It's a powerful picture.

Am I starting to sound a little shrill here?

Okay, knowing the history of an artist's intention can add to the richness of the viewing experience. It just doesn't need to be in the viewer's face. To go back for a moment to Wyeth's "Brown Swiss', the information given about why he painted the picture wasn't in an artist's statement. I believe it was given years later during an interview. The hook can be set, the painting made personal, and then the viewer can go back to explore the artist's intentions. Nine times out of ten the viewer will say, "Hmmm that wasn't what I thought/felt at all when looking at the painting."

Yes, yes I know I'm no Wyeth or Sargent. It doesn't mean I have to like writing an artist's statement - just that I have to do it. And for the record if Arcadia Gallery calls I'm all over it.