Sunday, November 28, 2010

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Tonight's picture was taken on the day Mattie was born, April 4, 2002. Mattie was born two days early and by c-section. As Peter and I were going through photos tonight, we laughed at some of the pictures from that time period. Mainly because it looked like I had survived an arduous battle, and Mattie looked absolutely great. Labor and delivery was very challenging for me, because I had a c-section and also had unexpected bladder surgery to remove a benign tumor that was the size of a grapefruit. I stayed in the hospital for five days after Mattie was born. Though some of the nurses felt that I should have remained in the hospital longer, between not feeling well and people jumping in and out of the room at all hours, I felt we all needed to go home. But recovery was painful and balancing that along with a newborn, made it a time in my life I will never forget. However, despite all the pain, when you look at that cute face, everything seemed like it was going to be alright. I have learned that looks can be deceiving.

Three Roses by Charlie Brown

Three roses in a vase

What do they mean to me?

Two parents and child
That's what was meant to be.

Together they're a symbol

Of love that was meant to last

It doesn't reflect our present,

But is symbolic of our past.
There is that simple story
About the bravery of a little soul,
How everything good was brought about
As his suffering took its toll.
I just can't accept that,
Although I want to believe,
That there is a reason,
That some parents have to grieve.
So I am left wondering
Where that leaves me?
In a house without a child,
And with grief for company.

I received the above poem today from my friend Charlie. She told me she was compelled to write the poem because of the vivid picture I painted through words in last night's blog. She captured the love from Peter's roses that he gave me and my internal battle with the story, The Brave Little Soul, quite eloquently.

As today marks the last day of our long weekend together, I told Peter last night that I wanted to see the Norman Rockwell exhibit at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. I had seen several ads for this exhibit and since Rockwell was someone I really never appreciated when I was younger, I felt that having survived cancer and now working through grief, that these life changes could possibly affect my viewpoint about his art. I know myself well, because I viewed Rockwell's art in a completely different manner today.

Norman Rockwell was born in New York City in 1894, and he always wanted to be an artist. At age 14, he enrolled in art classes at The New York School of Art. Two years later, in 1910, he left high school to study art at The National Academy of Design. Rockwell found success early. He painted his first commission of four Christmas cards before his sixteenth birthday. While still in his teens, he was hired as art director of Boys’ Life, the official publication of the Boy Scouts of America, and began a successful freelance career illustrating a variety of young people’s publications. In 1916, the 22-year-old Rockwell painted his first cover for The Saturday Evening Post, the magazine considered by Rockwell to be the “greatest show window in America.” Over the next 47 years, another 321 Rockwell covers would appear on the cover of the Post. In 2008, Rockwell was named the official state artist of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

 

Telling Stories is the first major exhibition to explore in-depth the connections between Norman Rockwell’s iconic images of American life and the movies. Two of America’s best-known modern filmmakers—George Lucas and Steven Spielberg—recognized a kindred spirit in Rockwell and formed significant collections of his work. Rockwell’s paintings and the films of Lucas and Spielberg evoke love of country, small town values, children growing up, unlikely heroes, acts of imagination and life’s ironies.


Mr. Lucas and Mr. Spielberg trace their Rockwell love to their childhoods, when they pored over the covers of The Saturday Evening Post, a weekly magazine (and misnomer) that arrived in mailboxes on Thursdays. They started collecting his work before it was validated by the art world. According to his records Mr. Lucas bought his first Rockwell, a calendar illustration, on May 16, 1980. A year and a half later Mr. Spielberg bought his first Rockwell, a stirring painting that was commissioned in 1923 as an advertisement for Underwood typewriters. It shows a young writer hunched at his cluttered desk as Daniel Boone floats above on puffy clouds, a figure of glamorous virility who provides the boy with both a subject for his literary efforts and a painful reminder of his limitations. For an actual review of this exhibit, click on the The NY Times, July 1, 2010, article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/04/arts/design/04rockwell.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&sq=rockwell&st=cse&scp=1

Rockwell’s working process resembled that of a movie director. He “auditioned” his models, determined the pose and facial expressions of his characters, dressed them in authentic costumes or uniforms, and selected props that give important clues to the personalities and circumstances of each story. He even acted out the parts the models were to play so they would understand exactly what he expected of them. In the late 1930s, Rockwell began using photographs to develop his compositions. Instead of asking models to pose for long hours, he used photography to capture their positions and expressions quickly and to adjust props and lighting until he had achieved the desired effect. He often used elements from as many as one hundred photographs in his color sketches and pencil drawings before painting the final canvas.

Rockwell was a masterful storyteller who could distill a narrative into a single frame. His pictures tell stories about the adventure of growing up, of individuals rising up to face personal challenges, the glamour of Hollywood and the importance of tolerance in American life. He created his pictures with strategies similar to those used by filmmakers.

Rockwell MOST certainly has his critics. I admit to being guilty of sharing in these negative thoughts about his work for many years. The main critique others have about Rockwell centers around the sweet and contrived paintings he created, and the thinking that he posed and crafted these snapshots because this is what he wanted reality to be, and what he wanted others to believe. However, as I look at his art today, with a more mature and most definitely a more fragile lens, I can appreciate and respect his ideals, his moral values, and the importance of personal honor, the value of family, and the love of Country. In addition, isn't art about one's interpretation of things anyway? So the fact that he posed his subjects no longer bothers me, because I realize he was trying to make a statement, a statement with an artistic agenda which focused on community, responsibility, and patriotism.

Several of Rockwell's paintings and charcoal sketches spoke to me today. However, I am sharing five in particular with you tonight. I was UNABLE to take photographs in the gallery, but was able to find the pictures below through a google search. However, if you want to see the images of all the paintings I saw today, just click on this Smithsonian link: http://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/online/tellingstories/
 

The photo does not do this painting justice. In person, the painting simply captures your heart.

Good Boy (little orphan at the train) - 1951

"Orphan Train" is a first-person narrative told by an old man who had been the youngest child on a foundling train. After the orphanage where he lived burned down, the nuns headed out by rail, hoping to find homes for eighty-seven children. Steven Spielberg, an adoptive parent himself, remarked on "the hesitancy of the adoptive mom, the delicacy of her body position, the distance between her and the child. That is the drama and the pathos and the passion of the story."

The Stuff of Which Memories are Made - 1922

In 1920 Rockwell received a commission from General Electric's Edison Mazda Lamp division to paint images for an advertising campaign. It demonstrates Rockwell's growing skill at using light to create an emotional tone. Over a seven-year period, Rockwell painted at least twenty ads for Edison Mazda that appeared in the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, and Good Housekeeping magazines.

Though this was a painting commissioned by a lighting company, which was trying to link buying a GE lamp with solid family values, I saw so much more in this picture. First of all the title captures the imagination. But then as I look back on my days as a mom, and I recall what it felt like to get to the end of the day, and have a peaceful, quiet, and tender moment together..... I remembered this is indeed what memories are made of.

This is another stunning painting with a powerful moral message.

Peach Crop - 1935

Peach Crop illustrates a Depression-era story extolling the virtues of true love over wealth. An impoverished medical student is engaged to a beautiful, but selfish socialite. He falls instead for a pretty but poor young woman who is injured at work. When he learns she wants to go to nursing school to help people, he reconsiders his marriage plans.

 

Going and Coming - 1947
After World War II, Americans headed for the seashore, lakes, and mountains on vacations long deferred due to gasoline rationing. Magazines and newspapers recommended ideal vacation spots and offered advice on what to do with pets while families were away. Travel agencies also reported that people were taking longer vacations because some 35 million Americans received the relatively new benefit of paid vacation time.

What is so wonderful about this painting is we can ALL relate to it, even today. The top bar of the painting shows a family excited and energetic about their family vacation and adventure ahead. The bar below, shows the dreaded return home.

Window Washer - 1960


Rockwell painted many humorous pictures as well. This one caught my eye. This office assistant in green in taking dictation, and as she glances up, she can see that a window washer is staring at her and winking. It is whimsical and at the same time poignant because it illustrates the complexities women have in the workplace. The struggle between being taken seriously and viewed as competent versus judged as the fairer sex.


 
 

Peter and I enjoyed our time in the museum and chatting about the paintings. He was far more familiar with Rockwell's work than I was, and the ironic part was each Thanksgiving car trip we used to take to get to Peter's grandmother's house in Connecticut we passed Rockwell's studio in Stockbridge, MA. We passed it and NEVER stopped! I am happy we stopped today.

After our museum trip, we went out for an early dinner. While sitting at the restaurant, I showed Peter the photo Ann had sent me today. Ann wanted me to see what her son, Michael, and her brother-in-law, Larry, were wearing today! Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation t-shirts, while rock climbing. Mattie definitely would have approved!