Light and Domesticity: Anna Ancher and Impressionism in Denmark

Review by Rachael Pullin

While the artists of the Skagen Art Colony may appear to be at a remove from late-nineteenth century avant-garde art practice, the National Museum of Women in the Arts’ exhibition, A World Apart: Anna Ancher and the Skagen Art Colony (February 15^th-May 12^th, 2013), demonstrates their prolific exchange with modern life and aesthetics. This show engages viewers in a revisionist dialogue with the Franco-centric model of Impressionism by placing a Danish woman as the subject of its reappraisal. Anna Ancher (1859-1935), well known in her native Denmark, has remained relatively unknown here in the United States. NMWA has mounted the first large-scale show of her painterly canvases and it should not be missed.

Ancher possessed an agile technical ability that enabled her to enter into stylistic dialogue with her Parisian contemporaries while still tugging at the fringes of lingering traditional representational models. Ancher’s male counterparts painted monumental outdoor scenes, such as her husband Michael Ancher’s heroicizing vision of strapping fishermen in Fishermen Launching a Rowboat (1881), but Anna Ancher found her fullest expression in the more quiescent, yet profoundly dynamic, subtleties of the domestic interior.

Anna Ancher, Sunshine in the blue room, 1891.

Sunshine in the blue room (1891) depicts an elegantly decorated room of the artist’s home in which her daughter is seated. The young girl’s form nearly dissolves amongst the interplay of light and color on the room’s surfaces, inspired by the afternoon sun.

Anna Ancher, Light on the wall in the blue room, ca. 1890.

Ancher’s less synthetic works—those studies in color and light—truly display her aesthetic prowess. Arguably, her boldest work is Light on the wall in the blue room (ca. 1890): it is small in size, but packs a formalist punch. Ancher’s spare employment of geometricizing blocks of warm color economically captures the visual and atmospheric sensation of light cast on a wall as it is refracted through a window. Fiery-hued paint is applied through thick, impastoed brushwork. The comparatively unsaturated negative space delineates the transecting wood of the window’s frame. Beneath a layer of gray, however, a field of deep blue pushes forward and propels its orange compliment insistently at the viewer. Ancher’s light is animated through the physicality of her oil paint.

The artist made her home the site of her avant-garde practice. In “Modernity and the Spaces of Femininity” a chapter in Vision and Difference: Femininity, Feminism and the Histories of Art, Griselda Pollock determined that women Impressionist artists employed their domestic surroundings as visual fodder for their creative endeavors. Adhering to bourgeois decorum, the women Impressionists did not depict scenes from the gritty street and café cultures of modern Paris; rather, they largely painted their own everyday domestic experience—a practice clearly evident throughout Ancher’s oeuvre.

Anna Ancher, Portrait of mother (Mrs. Ane Brøndum), 1913. 

Much like her female contemporaries, Ancher was of a class that allowed her access to models from the community, but the individuals she portrays come (most often) from her domestic setting. Ancher’s mother, Ane Brøndum, for instance, appears in multiple canvases in the exhibition. Portrait of mother (Mrs. Ane Brøndum) (1913) reads like a dual meditation on model and material. The seated Mrs. Brøndum’s modest clothing glows, yet again, in the light that enters from a nearby window, but the subject is not eclipsed by the artist’s formal concerns. Ancher has rendered her mother’s aging features with great care: her heavily lidded eyes are cast downward accentuating the pull of gravity on her lined, fleshy cheeks and her humbly clasped hands are articulated by swollen joints emphasized through detailed application of highlight and shadow. She appears to the viewer as both a serene and monumental matriarch. Ancher’s nuanced treatment of the tonal variations in the white shawl, bonnet, and blanket that drapes over the back of the woven wicker chair is reminiscent of Cecilia Beaux’s work New England Woman (Mrs. Jedediah H. Richards) (1895). Portrait of mother (Mrs. Ane Brøndum) is not only a likeness, but also equally a figure through which Ancher could assert avant-garde treatment of the everyday subjects of her domestic life.

Few women artists have ascended through the ranks of the canonical monolith that is Impressionism. Fewer still are those who have done so outside of the movement’s Parisian epicenter. Today, women Impressionists such as Berthe Morisot and Mary Cassatt—championed by feminist art historians such as Griselda Pollock—are as recognizable as their male contemporaries, but criticism and scholarship largely remains trained on Impressionism’s French manifestations. NMWA’s A World Apart positions the peripheral coastal city of Skagen (as well as the domestic setting) as an artistic center worthy of investigation and Anna Ancher as a cutting-edge artist in her own right.

23rd Annual Robyn Rafferty Mathias Student Research Conference

The Art History Program was well represented—and, according to a recent announcement, even received awards and honors—at the 23rd Annual Robyn Rafferty Mathias Student Research Conference. Several students from our MA program (Kari Allegretto, Rachael Pullin, and J. Rachel Gustafson) gave their papers during a lively session, “Art, Violence, and Nationalism,” chaired by Dr. Juliet Bellow.

Kari Allegretto received “Honorable Mention” for her paper “On Joseph and Family Ties: Seeing Themes of Family and Patriarchy in the Borgherini Joseph Series.” Ms. Allegretto argued that the Borgherini Joseph Series, a group of paintings that adorned the walls of a Renaissance bedroom, should be read as a complete work, rather than analyzed as individual paintings. Further, she illustrated how the sequence is unified by the themes of family and patriarchy.

Rachael Pullin’s paper “Contested Boundaries: Rashid Rana and the Body Politic in South Asia” was awarded “Best Oral Presentation in the Humanities by a Graduate Student.” Ms. Pullin’s paper considered how nationalist rhetoric has structured the way Pakistani artist, Rashid Rana, has been received by the art world internationally. Using a photographic self-portrait by the artist as a basis for her analysis, she examined Rana’s deconstruction of national and art-historical discourse as it bears on his individual identity as an artist from Pakistan.  

J. Rachel Gustafson’s paper, “Running Alongside Them: Shomei Tomatsu’s Nagasaki: Wristwatch and Representation of a Nation in Postwar Japan” examined a photograph by the Japanese photographer, Shomei Tomatsu, as a commentary on the atomic bomb in the postwar period. Ms. Gustafson’s vivid visual analysis considered the multiple valences of this iconic photo in the realms of devastation, remembrance, nostalgia, and modernity as they relate to artistic nationalism.

In addition to the Art History graduate students, Arts Management grad, Camille Kashaka, also presented in this panel. Her paper “Healing through Exposure: The Potential Benefits of Dramatherapy in East African Refugee Camps” proposed that a union of the practices of drama and therapy could heal deep community conflicts in the refugee camps. By implementing dramatherapy in these camps, Ms. Kashaka suggests, the safe space of theater would facilitate a productive forum for communication.

And Art History undergrad Annie Baldauf delivered her paper “Contrasting Images of Eve and Mary” in the “Images Actions and Sounds” panel, that considered the impact of social attitudes and norms in the northern European renaissance on artistic representations of the Christian paragons Eve and Mary. The first woman, of course, represented as the bad woman, and the second was venerated as a model of feminine virtue.

Congratulations to the presenters on their hard work and achievements. We’d like to extend our thanks to the audience members for their engaging questions and comments after each presentation. And thank you, also, to Robyn Rafferty Mathias for her generous sponsorship that makes this conference possible.

The 43rd Annual Middle Atlantic Symposium in the History of Art

Ms. Catherine Southwick presenting at the Mid-Atlantic Symposium.

The Middle Atlantic Symposium in the History of Art was founded by the Department of Art History and Archaeology at the University of Maryland and is co-sponsored by the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts at the National Gallery of Art. This year’s symposium (March 8^th-9th) marked the 43^rd year that top student representatives from the region’s academic institutions assembled to share their latest research.

On Saturday, March 9^th in the NGA’s West Building Lecture Hall, American University alumna, Ms. Catherine Southwick, presented her paper entitled “Renoir and the Paris Commune: The Complexity of Class in Ball at the Moulin de la Galette.” Ms. Southwick argued for a more nuanced interpretation of Pierre Auguste Renoir’s works in the wake of the Paris Commune—one not solely based on extreme class divisions nor entirely formalist in aesthetics. Rather, through Renoir’s compositional devices and choice of politically charged sites, found in the Ball at the Moulin de la Galette (1876), the artist juxtaposes his two realities: he acknowledges his working-class background and the bourgeois patrons upon which he was financially dependent. Strange spatial relationships and disjointed figural configurations brought together in the Moulin de la Galette, according to this young scholar, illustrate Renoir’s complex connection with both seemingly oppositional class factions.

This session was moderated by Dr. Abigail McEwen of the University of Maryland. The other members of Ms. Southwick’s session included George Washington University’s Jennifer Grejda, who presented her paper “Interwoven Histories: Chocolate and Jesuits in The Collation, a Tapestry from the Court of Louis XIV”; Bryn Mawr College’s Carrie Robbins, who gave her paper entitled “The Stereoscope as Cheat! (In)Credulity and Oliver Wendell Holmes”; and the University of Maryland’s Andrew Eschelbacher, who delivered his paper “Defying Death: The Animate Tomb of Auguste Blanqui.”

Congratulations to Ms. Southwick and the other presenters for making this year’s symposium such a success. 

CALL FOR PAPERS

Announcing the Fourth Annual
FEMINIST ART HISTORY CONFERENCE
at American University in Washington DC

Friday-Sunday, November 8-10, 2013

CALL FOR PAPERS

Keynote reception at the inaugural Feminist Art History Conference

This fourth annual conference continues to build on the legacy of feminist art-historical scholarship and pedagogy initiated by Norma Broude and Mary D. Garrard at American University. To further the inclusive spirit of their groundbreaking anthologies, we invite papers on subjects spanning the chronological spectrum, from the ancient world through the present, to foster a broad dialogue on feminist art-historical practice. Papers may address such topics as: artists, movements, and works of art and architecture; cultural institutions and critical discourses; practices of collecting, patronage, and display; the gendering of objects, spaces, and media; the reception of images; and issues of power, agency, gender, and sexuality within visual cultures. Submissions on under-represented art-historical fields, geographic areas, national traditions, and issues of race and ethnicity are encouraged.

To be considered for participation, please provide a single document in Microsoft Word (title the document [last name]-proposal.doc or .docx) comprising a one-page, single-spaced proposal of no more than 500 words for a 20-minute presentation, followed by a curriculum vita of up to two pages.

Submit materials by May 15, 2013 to: fahc4papers@gmail.com

Accepted proposals will be notified by July 1, 2013.

Please direct inquiries to: fahc4papers@gmail.com.

Keynote speaker: Professor Patricia Simons, University of Michigan

Sessions and keynote will be held on the campus of American University

Sponsored by the Art History Program, Department of Art,
College of Arts and Sciences at American University
Organizing committee:  Kathe Albrecht, Juliet Bellow, Norma Broude, Kim Butler, Mary D. Garrard, Namiko Kunimoto, Helen Langa, and Andrea Pearson

J. Rachel Gustafson and the Return of Opportunity: An Internship Story

J. Rachel Gustafson

Often you hear stories about people who have known their course all their lives. They graduated college (or dropped out due to sheer genius), landed their first job (or started their own business), climbed the allegorical ladder (or built their own), and whammy, they find lifelong happiness and security. They never looked back and never had to hit reset.  I tend to think those are the exceptions rather than the rule. In my case, I had to experience what I didn’t want in order to find what I did.

My story begins (and hopefully will end) with writing. I was a former director in political communications before I left it all behind to make art and writing about art the center of my small universe. After heading back to my undergraduate institution to take night classes in art history, I set off to spend a summer in France before commencing my graduate career at AU. It was in Paris, while sitting in my dorm room, when the AU announcement about an internship opening at the National Endowment for the Arts hit my inbox. When I saw the notice, I hesitated. In my former life, I oversaw a horde of interns and now I was considering being one myself – again.

After a round of emails, interviews and writing samples, I was invited to start with the Federal arts agency in August 2012. Today, I am a part of the NEA’s public affairs department – the leg of the agency that is responsible for communicating the role of the arts to more than 311 million Americans. Less than 20 individuals are responsible for a rather daunting task. I am awed at times when I realize I am one of them. While I am not always doing the glamorous tasks of article writing and conducting interviews, I am still a very real part of the process. Sometimes I transcribe notes or collect relevant news clips on America’s artistic trends, controversies and budgetary concerns. But it all contributes to the larger goal. 

What continues to surprise me is the pure scope of the NEA. My internship allows me to expand my art-based vocabulary beyond the visual arts and into a broad range of art issues that are dominating the country’s attention now. The NEA commits to a vast artistic curriculum and furthers the dialogue about art in America. Perhaps that’s the best part: I get to help tell this story and actively participate in the dialogue. I talk to people who make the arts happen on daily basis. 

During my time with the agency, I’ve spoken with LeVar Burton about the future of children’s literacy; the editors of American Reader about their confidence in Millennials sustained interest in both digital and print realms; and interviewed curators at MoMA about a new exhibition on the Japanese avant-garde movement.

In every interview I conduct, a story emerges that keeps the dialogue about arts in America flourishing. Most graduate school writing endeavors languish in a vacuum of sorts after collecting a final markup. The return of opportunity at the NEA happens when my writing, my interviews, and my thoughts are shared and people hear them. And while I don’t always know that for certain, a random blog comment or retweet confirms that our work—my work—makes a difference. As long as there are fascinating people in the arts, there will be people willing to listen, which means the NEA’s job is never done.

My one-semester term with the NEA has just been extended to a third. While my course is untraditional, it’s the one that has gotten me here. I questioned myself and I hit reset. But that was an investment in myself that I was willing to risk. My internship was, and continues to be, about the return of opportunity. So far, I’m pretty darn pleased with the transaction. 

Mathew Brady and the Modern Union Hero: Rachael Pullin Reviews National Portrait Gallery Exhibition

Mathew Brady, Robert Anderson, 1861.

Uniform, intimate, and official, the portraits of Civil War generals in the National Portrait Gallery’s exhibition, Mathew Brady’s Photographs of Union Generals (March 30, 2012-May 31, 2015), functioned as portable models of masculinity for a republic in the midst of violent self-definition. These twenty palm-sized carte-de-visite style photographs are installed in two orderly rows that flank viewers on each side of a small hallway gallery in the American Origins wing (a hurried visitor may miss the show altogether due to its diminutive scale). Despite the standardized format, individuality abounds. From Brady’s carefully articulated studio settings and proprietary signature to the generals’ unique sartorial interventions, wild mustaches, and heroic posturing, this exhibition highlights new frontiers (and limitations) of early American masculinity both through the commercial endeavors of this photographer and the self-fashioning of Brady’s “captured” Union heroes.

Lauded as the preeminent American photographer in the nineteenth century, Mathew Brady’s (active 1844-1894) corpus provides the most comprehensive visual documentation of the period. Unlike his on-site battleground images, these portraits place their subjects within the highly mediated environment of Brady’s New York studio. Further, they impose a stylistic structure that is based on traditional western painted portraiture and its evolving photographic applications. 

The exhibition’s direct, linear presentation allows for careful study of the formal similarities and divergences in each photograph. Each of the portraits is a modern albumen silver print made from the original glass plate negative held in the museum’s Frederick Hill Meserve Collection. Some negatives have been well preserved and others are scratched, darkened, or faded. Each composition has been modeled on the guidelines set forth in Nathan G. Burgess’ The Photograph Manual, which detailed the positioning of the sitter and their attendant props. They could be seated or standing, photographed in a formal full-length shot or a less formal close-up, and were placed within a staged setting typically accompanied by minimal drawing room articles (tables, chairs, or architectural elements). Robert Anderson (1861), depicts the general standing before a massive fluted column and pedestal, partially obscured by an elegantly draped curtain that is girdled with a rope culminating in two large tassels. Anderson’s contrapposto suggests ease, ability, and confidence. His stance and setting align him with the body of one of the nation’s most formative figures: George Washington in Gilbert Stuart’s Lansdowne Portrait (1796). Rather than a gesture of enlightened leadership, Anderson’s arms are crossed firmly and convey militaristic might. Near the general’s shoes, Brady has emblazoned his name on the base of the sturdy pedestal support; in doing so, he lays claim to the formation of a new visual tradition.

Gilbert Stuart, Lansdowne Portrait, 1796.

These generals’ portraits were created on the heels of the carte de visite’s explosive emergence a few years earlier. Brady capitalized on this newfound public demand for photographs that could be circulated and possessed as a testament to national allegiance. Newly minted generals flocked to Brady’s studio to obtain a photographic calling card that would publicly attest to their station. Brady, seeking to establish himself in this emerging market, employed the bodies of these generals to make a profit and bolster his own reputation as the photographer of American elites. Both sitter and photographer aimed to cultivate his legacy through the distributable likeness of the modern Union hero.

These photos’ formal uniformity and regimented installation may allude to military order, but they belie the plethora of individualizing touches invoked by photographer and photographed subject. While there is little cultural allowance for visual alterations of masculine appearance, this exhibition shows the generals’ attempts to stoically affect the hero. They alter their body language, facial hair, and the way they wear their uniform. Some clutch swords, hold hats, cross arms defiantly while others humbly fold leather-gloved hands in their laps. In a more formal gesture, others squeeze their hands between tightly fastened jacket buttons. Each of these interventions, to some degree, reflects an identification with former government leaders through the adaptation of the conventions of portraiture and also attempts to construct a new image of the American soldier within the cutting-edge medium of photography.

Mathew Brady, John Sedgwick, 1862.

One example of such self-styling can be found in the close-up shot of John Sedgwick (1862), who sports an aggressively waxed mustache—the long tips jut out before him like a bull’s horns. This cosmetic feature signifies his masculine prowess. While his facial hair was cultivated to advocate individual expression, Sedgwick respectfully wears his uniform buttoned clear up to his neckline. The general’s steady gaze remains fixed on something outside of the frame. Viewers cannot engage him. He remains trained on his mission (almost spiritually entranced by his sense of duty)—or so he wished to appear. Apparently injured when he chose to sit for the portrait, the white gauzy bandage that binds Sedgwick’s left hand functions as a testament (an intentionally public one) to his sacrifice for his nation. The desire for recognition as a capable and virile individual within the national hierarchy is evident.

Mathew Brady, Ulysses S. Grant, 1864.

In another close-up, the most apocryphal general, Ulysses S. Grant (1864), appears surprisingly disheveled. His uniform is wrinkled and coat unbuttoned. Viewers can barely glimpse his eyes as they are largely cast in shadow by his prominent and slightly furrowed brow. Grant’s facial hair appears rather unkempt as it ascends unconstrained up to his cheekbones. Where other less successful generals seem to assert a more aggressive attitude, Grant’s extra-diegetic gaze is soft and non-threatening. Grant has been photographed without frills seated before a plain backdrop. The man, himself, becomes the focal point of the image. In a subtly iconoclastic way, Grant breaks out of the cosmetic posturing that the studio environment elicits from the other sitters and appears unencumbered by traditions of masculine vanity. Instead, he creates his own more sensible brand of the American hero.

Curator Ann Shumard has expertly employed the relationship between text and image to add depth to the exhibition’s narrative, which may have otherwise read as a who’s who historical roster. The wall text features not only stories of heroic victory (as one might expect in a government funded museum), but also of hubris and defeat. Viewers read of generals, such as George McClellan, relieved of their command after their failure on the battlefield. Or General Sedgwick, who is said to have exclaimed of the Confederates: “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance” only to be shot dead directly after his utterance. This subversive narrative juxtaposed with the overtly performed persona of the hero exposes the posturing of early American masculinity through anecdotes ripe with folly and error.  The text does not discount the contributions of these Union soldiers, but adds a layer of humanity scarcely found in militaristic discourse.

In this exhibition, dual portraits of modern American artist and modern American hero emerge in tandem. What is notably missing, however, is a deeper analysis of the work. While portraiture has often been employed to supplement historical anecdotes, such treatment overlooks the artistry of the photographic process. Although small in scale, much like the intimate size of the objects themselves, this exhibition serves as a poignant reminder of the microcosmic manifestations of nation building. Mathew Brady’s Photographs of Union Generals delivers another paternalistic vision of American history within the context of the nation’s capital. Yet, it has been curated in a manner that illuminates the vulnerability found between heroic masculine self-fashioning and reality. 

The Perks of being an Intern: Luisa Villa at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery

National Portrait Gallery Interns

 

The process of applying for internships felt daunting, but once submitted and accepted, I was more than thrilled.  This past summer, I was chosen to be the Collections Information and Research Intern at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery (NPG).

My job consisted of working on the Catalog of American Portraits (CAP), which entailed archiving private and public collections of American portraits in the United States and abroad.  This work was a bit tedious, but it enabled me to learn the ins and outs of the Smithsonian databases, which aided me in another aspect of the internship: researching inquiries from independent scholars and graduate students about specific portraits. Each inquiry was different; some required reference to physical or electronic archives, while others necessitated extensive research at the Smithsonian’s libraries. This practice greatly helped me hone my skills as a researcher. 

Aside from this practice in research, the Smithsonian Institution provided educational programming for interns.  I had the opportunity to walk through exhibitions before they opened and ask the curators questions. In addition to these perks, interns also had very liberal access to the museums in the mornings for guided tours and for tasks outside the office.  Every intern at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery and American Art Museum was required to complete a Gallery check at least once.  The task was to walk through a designated area in the museum and make sure everything looked up to par. The best part of this experience was having the opportunity to walk through the galleries in an environment where I alone could experience the works, without the hustle and bustle of the museums when they are open.  I liked this experience so much that I ended up doing it twice. 

My internship at NPG allowed me to experience many different facets of working in a museum.  By offering such a wide array of programs for interns the NPG helped me to experience aspects of a museum career that I would not have otherwise known—not to mention the daily pleasure of visiting the museum.