Twachtman’s “Holland Meadows”: Whereabouts Now Known

John H. Twachtman - Holland Meadows, ca. 1881

John H. Twachtman, "Holland Meadows," ca. 1881, oil on cradled panel, 11 3/8 x 18 1/2 inches

Lisa N. Peters

A number of months ago, I received a call regarding a Dutch scene signed “J. H. Twachtman.”  On receiving an image of it, I knew immediately that it was a previously lost painting entitled Holland Meadows that John Henry Twachtman painted in Dordrecht on his 1881 honeymoon.  What was especially exciting was that the painting was a key work from this formative time in Twachtman’s career.  I had previously seen only a black and white reproduction of the painting, but that I had an image of it was due to the fact that the artist’s wife, Martha, made it available from the estate (Twachtman died in 1902) for several exhibitions from 1919 through 1923.  It was also in auction sales in 1925 and 1944, which provided enticing descriptions of it, mentioning its rich green expanse and limpid water.  Additionally, there was this vivid commentary on the work in the Boston Evening Transcript in 1919 by the eminent critic William Howe Downes:

Holland Meadows (7) is notable for its lush, moist richness of tone and its local color.  It is a veritable epitome of Dutch landscape in its depth of watery atmosphere, its suffused light, its verdant vegetation, its “fat” quality.  This admirable little picture was painted at Dordrecht on the artist’s wedding journey, in 1881.  It reminds one of the best examples of Weissenbruch, and it also has some affinity with Jacob Maris.

The painting surfaced from the estate of Himan Brown, who died at age 99 in 2010.  Brown, a creator of radio dramas, acquired the rights to fictional characters such as Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, and The Thin Man. He wrote scripts for such prominent figures as Orson Welles, Boris Karloff, and Peter Lorre, and was an early innovator in the creation of sound effects.  He was also a sagacious art collector, filling his New York apartment with works by artists such as Renoir, Degas, and Picasso.  In this august company, Twachtman’s Holland Meadows must have quietly spent several enjoyable decades.

When the painting arrived at the gallery, a gray film covered it.  A light cleaning brought it back to its original condition, the sparkle of the light on the water, the subtle movement of the clouds, the wet quality of the meadow evoking the contentment Twachtman felt on encountering this refreshing and naturally artistic countryside, while sharing it with his wife, also an artist, and visiting with J. Alden Weir and his half brother John Ferguson Weir, who joined the couple in a locale so popular with artists that it was known simply as the “Southern Sketching Grounds.”  Downes was accurate in pointing out a connection between Twachtman’s Holland Meadows and the paintings of Hague School contemporaries such as William Maris.  Indeed, Twachtman visited with Maris on his trip and showed him his work.  He found in Maris’s art an example of how to bring out nuances of light, atmosphere, and mood, which would remain Twachtman’s emphasis throughout the rest of his career.

There are six other known oils that Twachtman created in Holland on his honeymoon, but Holland Meadows is the one that best epitomizes this trip. With the mystery of its whereabouts now solved, the painting brings this moment in Twachtman’s art into a focus it did not have previously.

Visit the John H. Twachtman Catalogue Raisonné site

Joseph B. Smith’s Marine Painting, “The Annie Lewis”: Research in Progress

Joseph B. Smith - The Annie Lewis - marine painting

Joseph B. Smith, "The Annie Lewis," oil on canvas, 24 x 40-1/4 inches, signed lower left: "Smith / Brooklyn"

Lisa N. Peters

An intriguing marine painting has just arrived at the gallery, showing a proud two-masted schooner anchored in a harbor at sunrise. It is by Joseph B. Smith (1798-1876), a ship and architectural scene renderer in oils and watercolors who was the son of the minister of New York’s John Street Methodist Church.* Smith spent his career in Brooklyn, where he opened a partnership known as “Joseph B. Smith and Son, Marine Artists” (his son was William S. Smith.)

Joseph B. Smith - The Annie Lewis - detail, marine painting

Joseph B. Smith, "The Annie Lewis," detail

What is compelling in the painting is its extreme level of detail and crispness, revealing that the artist was a scrupulous eye-witness, who sought to present an unfolding narrative within the “ship portrait” tradition. Moving across the water toward the schooner is a small rowboat with two passengers aboard who converse as they paddle together toward the vessel that towers above them; the figure in white who turns around to talk to his companion is presumably the one who will be going aboard–only one suitcase is visible in the small boat. The Annie Lewis still has her rowboat firmly tethered, further indicating that the smaller vessel is approaching rather than bringing passengers to the shore. That the ship is about to embark is confirmed in the figures visible on its deck, who engage in readying it for departure: one is at the wheel, another ties down a sail, others work in pairs. Read the rest of this entry »

Max Weber’s Joel’s Café: A Forgotten NY Establishment Comes to Light

Max Weber - Joel's Cafe

Max Weber (1881-1961), "Joel's Cafe," ca. 1909-10, oil on board, 28-3/8 x 23-5/8 inches

Lisa N. Peters

When Max Weber’s Joel’s Café came into the gallery, we enlisted the help of Weber scholar Percy North* in researching the painting and writing about it for us.  An aspect of the work that interested us especially was the identity of the café portrayed in it.  Dr. North wrote that the scene in the background, portraying a violinist and two female figures that appear to be singing from a sheet of music, suggested a cabaret.  She noted that the “combination of café and cabaret in a single painting is thematically related to Toulouse-Lautrec’s paintings and posters of the Moulin Rouge,” several of which Weber owned and North stated that “Weber’s admiration for Toulouse-Lautrec’s work had inspired him to create a number of café scenes” beginning in 1906, during his 1905 to 1908 sojourn in Paris.

Yet, Joel’s Café was painted after Max Weber’s return to America (the work is dated 1911, but it was exhibited as a work of 1910 in Weber’s retrospective at the Newark Museum in 1959, making its correct date ca. 1909-10).  So where and what was Joel’s Café?  Dr. North found a clue to help answer this question in Weber’s retrospective at the Art Galleries of the University of California at Santa Barbara in 1968, which included a sketch for the painting with an inscription noting the café’s location as “41st Street and 7th Avenue.”

However, with the exception of this address, no further information about the café had come to light until . . . . we received an email message from the great grandson of Joel himself!  Rod Richardson wrote to associate gallery director Gina Greer that “Joel’s Bohemian Refreshery” (as the café called itself in a postcard, which depicted its “The Cartoon Room”) was “a favorite watering hole for many of the leading writers, artists, poets, and chorus girls of the day,” and Richardson forwarded to us a link to a blog post that featured Joel’s.  As noted by Jan Whitaker in her ongoing blog Restaurant-ing through history, Joel Rinaldo’s was one of the “all-night eating and drinking places that thrived around Times Square in New York before the First World War.” 

Max Weber - Joel's Cafe, 41st Street and 7th Avenue, NYC

Max Weber - Max Weber, "Joel's Cafe, 41st Street and 7th Avenue, NYC," illustrated in exh. cat., "First Comprehensive Retrospective Exhibition in the West by Max Weber," University Art Museum, University of California, Santa Barbara, 1968.

Further research brings Joel’s to life.**  Described as “a quaint place with a backwash of the bizarre cafés in Paris,” the establishment (located near the old Metropolitan Opera House on 39th Street) had two floors, an inn-like, rustic dining room upstairs plastered with theater bills and a downstairs bar that served Joel’s special “Blue Moons” (Weber’s painting is obviously of the bar). The patrons consisted of Mexican revolutionaries as well as writers such as O’Henry, musicians, newspaper men including regular Benjamin de Casseres of the Times (also a poet), actors, and artists, among them George Luks and the caricaturist Carlo de Fornaro.  Who was Joel?  We have turned up the following:  born in New York about 1870, he was of Northern Italian and probably also Portuguese descent.  Left an inheritance by his father (once a Garibaldian revolutionist) in 1892 that was spread among many siblings, he probably opened his café after purchasing the building at 206 West 41st Street in April of 1909.  Described as an “affable poseur” as well as a “celebrated eccentric and self-styled philosopher” who dressed “unfailingly in formal attire with a flower in his lapel” and wore pince-nez eyeglasses, Rinaldo was deemed by the Times in an article of 1913 to be “the only restaurateur in town who is a philosopher.” A photograph of Rinaldo in the article shows him in a high white collar, similar to those worn by the two gentlemen in Weber’s painting.  Considering himself a “scientist,” Rinaldo devised his own theory of evolution, which he felt would supersede Darwin’s, called “polygeneric creation” (1910)— (the Times writer of 1913 who visited Joel’s observed that it was “impossible to be sitting there seriously listening to what purports to be a new philosophy and which is propounded by the man who runs this home of tango and chile con carne”).  In 1921, Rinaldo self-published a book entitled Psychoanalysis of the “Reformer,” in which he used the theories of Freud in describing prohibitionists as neurotics in search of power.  Such a treatise no doubt related to his experience with such “meddlers.”  An article in the Times listed Joel’s as among several establishments that received summonses during a “Big ‘Dry’ Drive” in September 1920.  What ended Joel’s however, was his retirement in 1925, which the Times reported as marking the closing of the “only real bohemian restaurant left in New York.” While managing other real estate, Rinaldo spent his days on his Brooklyn porch reading literature and philosophy.

"Joel Rinaldo," illustrated in "You Musn't Crack Up the Darwinian Theory at Joel's," "New York Times, November 2, 1913.
“Joel Rinaldo,” illustrated in “You Musn’t Crack Up the Darwinian Theory at Joel’s,” “New York Times, November 2, 1913.
That Weber (1881-1961) was drawn to portray Joel’s was no doubt a carryover of time spent in Parisian cafés, notably Café du Dôme in Montparnasse, which drew the Anglo-American artists community on the Left Bank, as well as his observations of the café images of Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso (who knew Weber and visited him in his Paris studio), and others.

Read the rest of this post on our website

*Percy North is the author of Max Weber: The Cubist Decade, 1910-1920, exh. cat. (Atlanta, Ga.: High Museum of Art, 1991) and other publications on Weber.

**Information on Rinaldo derives from articles in the New York Times, articles found on ancestry.com, and other web sources.

A Lost Record Brought to Life, Dinner at the Salmagundi Club, 1908

Lisa N. Peters

Salmagundi Club Dinner Menu

1908 Dinner Menu, Salmagundi Club, from the Spanierman Gallery, LLC, Charles Warren Eaton Archive

Our recent show of the work of Charles Warren Eaton led us to notice an archival storage box on a high shelf in our library that was catalogued under the artist’s name at some point in the past and then forgotten. It contained what scholars always wish for: a number of primary source materials that had never received scrutiny. Among them was the ledger book in the artist’s hand, from which we made many discoveries—one reported on this blog earlier. We also found an eight-page booklet measuring 10 x 6-3/8 inches with the title: Testimonial Dinner given to Mr. A. T. Van Laer by his friends in the Salmagundi Club, over whom he has long presided. Inside the booklet was a photograph of Van Laer, a photograph of one of his landscapes with his signature below it, and the menu for the dinner, which included fried perch, paté of sweetbread, roast Long Island duck, and strawberry ice cream. What was remarkable about this find was not the booklet itself, but that the plain brown coversheet that enclosed it, and two inside pages, contained original signatures of those who attended the dinner, a group of artists, collectors, and dealers that included a great number of important figures of the time. Bob Mueller, chairman of the curator committee at the Salmagundi Club, which since it was established in 1871 has been a gathering place for artists that also offers art classes and holds exhibitions, reported that a copy of the booklet exists at the club, but without the signatures and without a record of those who attended. Read the rest of this entry »

Edward Moran: Seeing Paris in a Different Light

Edward Moran - Notre Dame de Paris

Edward Moran (1829-1901), "Notre Dame de Paris," ca. 1878, oil on canvas, 36 x 27 inches

Carol Lowrey

When we think of the numerous American painters who responded to the beauty of Paris, names of impressionists such as Childe Hassam and John Singer Sargent immediately come to mind.  Thus, I was pleasantly surprised when one of my assignments for the gallery involved writing an essay on Edward Moran’s Notre Dame de Paris (left). Why such enthusiasm (aside from my being an avid Francophile)?  Well, you just don’t see too many Parisian pictures by Moran (1829-1901), a realist painter and the eldest member of a famous family of artists that included his brothers Thomas (1837-1926) and Peter (1841-1914).  A notable figure on the New York art scene during the late nineteenth century, Moran is best known for his seascapes, ranging from lonely coastal scenes to representations of New York harbor.  His work was exhibited at venues such as the National Academy of Design in New York and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in Philadelphia, attracting a steady stream of patronage from affluent collectors and acclaim from contemporary critics, who admired his ability to convey mood, light and atmosphere. Read the rest of this entry »

A Case of Reattribution: Aaron Henry Gorson and Frederick Demmler

Katherine Bogden

Frederick Demmler-Portrait of Aaron Henry Gorson

Frederick Demmler (1888-1918), "Portrait of Aaron Henry Gorson," ca. 1910s, oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches, signed lower left: Demmler

Recently, an untitled portrait of a dark-haired man (at right) came to the gallery from a relative of Aaron Henry Gorson, an artist best known for his nocturnal scenes of Pittsburgh steel mills rendered in Whistlerian style. The owner believed the portrait had been painted by Gorson.

In the painting’s lower left we noticed an inscription, which reads: Demmler.  Assuming “Demmler” to be the sitter, we searched for this name in the essay by Rina Youngner in the catalogue for the 1989 exhibition held at the gallery, The Power and the Glory: Pittsburgh Industrial Landscapes by Aaron Harry Gorson. We discovered Youngner’s inclusion of “Fred A. Demmler” in a list of members of “A Group of Pittsburgh Painters” with whom Gorson exhibited at the Carnegie Institute in 1917.

Supposing that the portrait was painted by Gorson of Demmler, an artist new to us, we contacted Barbara Jones, chief curator at the Westmoreland Museum of American Art in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. Our hope was that the museum, which has five paintings by Demmler, as well as many by Gorson, would have a photograph of Demmler we could use to confirm the identity of the sitter. Read the rest of this entry »

Research in Progress: Eaton Detective Work Brings Results!

Charles Warren Eaton, "La Nuit (The Night)," oil on canvas, 35 1/2 x 44 1/2 inches, signed and dated lower left: "Chas. Warren Eaton 1911"

Charles Warren Eaton, "La Nuit (The Night)," oil on canvas, 35 1/2 x 44 1/2 inches, signed and dated lower left: "Chas. Warren Eaton 1911"

Lisa N. Peters

Among the rewards of working in the gallery are the discoveries made in the course of research. These often occur in the process of organizing exhibitions, when works included receive more scrutiny than they would otherwise.  Such sleuth work invariably involves several of us, as was the case when a new painting by Charles Warren Eaton arrived for our current show, fresh from the large holdings of Eaton’s art that belong to the granddaughter of the artist Samuel Foster, who had become close to Eaton during Eaton’s youth in Albany, New York.  

The painting hung quietly in the owner’s front foyer for decades.  Large in size for Eaton, and including the dark silhouettes of lonely pine trees set against a nocturnal landscape lit by the glimmer of moonlight that constitute Eaton’s signature statement, the painting (which came to us untitled and seemingly undated) struck us as one that the artist might have used to represent himself in an important venue.   Read the rest of this entry »

Research in Progress: Helen Wessells

Helen Wessells - The Negro Troop, 1936

Carol Lowrey
With Veteran’s Day approaching, I’d like to showcase a patriotic painting we have in the gallery. It’s entitled The Negro Troop, pictured here, and it depicts a group of African-American soldiers making their way along a street, the Stars and Stripes held aloft by one of the men. Some female admirers tag along, distracting several of the marchers. Where is the scene meant to take place? I’m at a loss to tell you because the ambiguous background makes it unclear as to whether the parade is in a rural town or a large city. The subject matter, however, is a reminder that during the first half of the twentieth century many African-American men proudly served their country, despite the discrimination that continued in American society and the armed forces; their involvement in both World War I and II led to future reforms within the U.S. military. Read the rest of this entry »

Betty Parsons in Maine

Katherine Bogden

Betty Parsons-Moonlight, Maine

I cannot remember a time in my life when I wasn’t deeply in love with the state of Maine. There is something in the wild, coastal waters and thick, old-growth woods that instantly casts away the urbanite in me and calls forth my rural roots. For someone working in the field of 19th and 20th century arts, this is probably a good thing, for countless painters have traveled to our easternmost state to paint and take in the area’s plethora of natural beauty.

These works are, for the most part, easy to recognize—sometimes almost down to the exact location. There are others, however, that represent the state in a less literal manner. One such painting is Moonlight—Maine by Betty Parsons. Intrigued by this dramatic painting, we recently decided to see what more there was to know about Betty Parsons and my favorite state.

Although it is well-known Parsons traveled widely, we didn’t know if she had spent extensive time in Maine or merely passed through. What first clued us in that she might have spent extensive time there was a very brief quote from a 1975 New Yorker profile written by Calvin Tompkins in which Parsons states:
After Europe, I went out to Wyoming for three weeks and stayed with my friend Hope Williams, who has a ranch near Cody. I did a lot of painting there. And then I was at my cottage in Maine for two weeks. Read the rest of this entry »

Plaid Puzzlement …The Paintings of Dan Christensen

Lisa N. Peters
When we were helping the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art in Kansas City, Missouri, in organizing the retrospective of the work of Dan Christensen that opened there last May, it emerged that a group of paintings Christensen created from 1969 to 1971 stood out and were different, or so it seemed. . . .

These large (many wall-size) geometrically conceived canvases with discreet flat areas of color, appeared a departure in Christensen’s oeuvre from the freeform spray gun works that preceded them as well as from his later work, in which he pushed automatist methods with the spray gun to their limits in blurred circles, infinite lozenges, swirling ribbons, and rich drizzle marks that seem to ricochet off the surface. The paintings with their clean horizontal and vertical stripes drew the attention of everyone who saw them, maybe because instead of having the stillness of so much hard-edged geometric painting, they seemed to project a glowing energy.  Read the rest of this post on the Spanierman Modern blog.

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