Day 290 - The Civil War and Its Aftermath

March 21, 2022

The paintings and sculptures in gallery 762, which center on the Civil War and its aftermath, strike me as being as important for what they reveal about the history and attitudes of the period and the views of the artists as for their artistic merit. One such work is a Saint-Gaudens bronze statuette of Abraham Lincoln, based on a larger statue the sculptor created for Chicago's Lincoln Park.  The Great Emancipator is shown looking downward thoughtfully; his clothes are rumpled, his face even thinner than in other images of him I've seen, his left hand large and powerful.  He stands in front of a chair emblazoned with the American eagle; the symbolism of Lincoln as preserver of the Union is unmistakable. 

On one wall are two  paintings of  John Brown. An 1882-1884 work by Thomas Hovenden, entitled "The Last Moments of John Brown,"  shows the abolitionist surrounded by guards while descending the steps of the courthouse where he has been sentenced to death.  In a tender- and iconic - moment, he bows to kiss a Black baby being held up to him by its red-kerchiefed mother.  In sharp contrast, a 1939 painting by John Steuart Curry portrays Brown as wild-eyed and maniacal, his arms outstretched, his hair and beard blowing in the wind;  a tornado symbolic of Brown's destructive force appears in the background. The work was based on a mural Curry did for the Kansas State Capitol; presumably, the depiction accorded with a conservative state legislature's  negative opinions of Brown. Given some of the reactionary views coming out of Kansas today, state legislators might still hold those views. 

I learn more about watermelons than I ever expected to know, thanks to the description of a still life of a cracked watermelon painted by an African-American artist, Charles Porter.  Watermelons, the signage tells us, originally came from Africa and were brought to the Americas by 17th-century Spaniards.  Cultivated by colonists and earlier a symbol of America's abundance, they came to be associated with free Blacks during the Civil War  - and, of course, became a racist stereotype. Porter, says the sign, reclaimed the melon as an object of art, defying its racist connotations. Of interest to me is a painting by Winslow Homer of two boys,  one white, one Black, in a field eating watermelon. The pair appear to have an easy camaraderie,  but the canvas is so dark, it's hard to see just what's going on in it. Note to Met: If  the painting is worth hanging, it's worth cleaning!

Today's work is a triptych.  The painting, made by Thomas Waterman Wood in 1865-1866 and measuring about 60 inches long and 30 inches high, is entitled "A Bit of War History: The Contraband; the Recruit; and the Veteran."  It shows three images of the same Black man against the same background at three points in time.  The painter has included a label on the inner frame at the bottom of each scene, lest we miss the point, but these seem completely unnecessary. At the left,  the man, small bundle and walking stick in his left hand,  has escaped his enslavers and presented himself at an office of the U.S. Army Provost Marshall General (according to the sign on the wall) to enlist in the Union Army. Looking out at the viewer, his back somewhat bowed,  he lifts his hat with his right hand in a gesture I interpret as deferential.  In the central scene, his lower body assumes the same stance as in the first scene, but he stands tall and proud in his blue uniform and cap; his right arm cradles a bayonet. In the first two scenes, the man's body is turned somewhat to the left; in the third, the image is reversed. Again, the torso is somewhat bowed - this time, because the subject is leaning on crutches, having lost a leg in combat. His uniform and hat are faded, but he lifts his right arm in a proud salute. His service has removed any psychological remnants of enslavement. The palette is a sober mix of blues and tans, with occasional touches of red, including the stripes on the American flag in the second scene.

Wood was, I read, a native Vermonter, clearly sympathetic to abolition. I wonder whether the painting was commissioned, and who may have purchased it, I see that it was donated to the Met in 1884, less than two decades after the Civil War ended.  It must have been one of the first works in the museum's collection, and, I imagine, reflected the political sentiments of the museum's first trustees. Good for them!