"Staying Up Too Late: Edward Hopper's Nighthawks and the Dark Side of the American Psyche" by Gordon Theisen

In 2008, I wrote a blog entry about Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," the iconic painting of the late night diner and the characters inhabiting it.  I wrote my entry mainly directed at the composition of the painting rather than its overall symbolic meaning.  I've always felt lacking in my art appreciation skills; what little I can summon to make cross-examinations between literature and philosophy, I cannot translate to my interpretation of art.  I am not sure why this is so, since I have been widely accused of having a "gift for gab" when it comes to academic topics.  Nevertheless, I love visual art in all of its forms and writing about it here is a good exercise.

Back in 2008, when I was still within the safe confines of academia, a colleague found out I was writing an entry on "Nighthawks" and recommended a relatively "new" book on the matter.  I did not go out and purchase the book right away, but I read some reviews online and made a note to find it and read it eventually.  Fast forward to 2015... out of academia and slumming around used bookstores, I come across a hardcover copy of Gordon Theisen's "Staying Up Too Late: Edward Hopper's Nighthawks and the Dark Side of the American Psyche" for a mere $1.  The book was heavily annotated by someone who had obviously enjoyed it, and I took that as a good sign.  I found the book informative and passionately written.  The volume occupies itself with its title subject, but also delves into the works and lives of many other artists--it also covers a variety of overlapping topics, a broad swat of ambitious intellectual composition.  This, I respectfully believe, is what dooms parts of the book.

The introduction's pace is furious.  Theisen writes intelligently about American culture, history and folkore.  The problem stems from the fact that the author cannot conceal his politics (not that he is obligated to) and shows his bias a bit too forcefully.  Some of this authoritative bias is understandable enough--it is his book, after all, but at times even the most subtle instances of it strike the reader as obnoxious.  The fact that Hopper was "staunch Republican" strikes the author as odd, but it comes across as if Hopper, being an artist, was suffering from a type of intellectual or political leprosy.  I think Theisen's interpretation here is unfounded.  The so-called Republican Party "intolerance" of liberal arts, arts in general, etc. is a modern caricature conceived by pundits and political "experts."  Back in the late 1920s and 1930s, the Republican Party was not the iconic intolerant, conservative, super-religious, backward organization it is represented as today.  Both parties during the lifespan of Hopper's life had bigger "fishes to fry" other than engaging in petty "culture wars."  The fact that Hopper grew up in a conservative household may have more to do with his reserved, painfully conservative politics and ideas, not simply the fact that he "carried the label" of the Republican Party.  I am not defending a political ideology or even a party, but this type of what one can only assume to be "unintended bias" seems to have run its course during the Bush, Jr. years and now it sounds tiresome and only alienates those who see it for what it actually is.

I am sure Theisen did not set out to make it so, but the introduction is alarmingly depressing.  His treatment of American optimism from a historical perspective also shows his bias.  Our religious heritage has been damaging to American history; the Founding Fathers were blindly optimistic while ignoring the plight of non-white peoples; our economic system is based on optimism composed of thinly veiled lies, and so forth and on.

Once the book returns to the title subject, the core of its content is both entertaining and educational.  Biographical details about Hopper are well-researched and presented here clearly, and the non-chronology meshes well with the analysis of Hopper's work.  For the most part, the analysis of the art work is clear and informative; only in a few places does the language turn esoteric, and the analysis seems more like a stretch than insight.

I enjoyed the book tremendously.  Perhaps my negative comments come from the fact that life outside academia is different; one doesn't have the luxury anymore to believe that analysis and interpretation "matter."  Out here, a painting is just a painting and a late night diner just a late night diner.

On Originality of Style--The Eternal Debate

God knows I've been posting entries about originality and development of style for what seems a lifetime. I am not anywhere near coming to an opinion, either concrete or phenomenological. But the ideas for examining these questions often come to us from the most unexpected places. I was raking my front yard the other day in the middle of that day and noticed my neighbors' "For Sale" sign gone. A little later, a truck pulled in backwards into their driveway and they began to fill it up. My dear neighbors are gone, I thought. Their labor continued for most of the day. I spied as little as possible, thinking it rude to simply stare. Frankly, I was just sad. Suddenly, the movers carefully loaded Jack Vettrinano's "The Signing Butler" in the cavity of the large truck. You know the painting; it is available in most furniture stores and also in major department stores such as Target and even Walmart. I don't write this in order to bash Vettrianos' masterpiece; I rather like the work myself. But I remember an overly opinionated art appreciation professor I had in my sophomore year in college (gheez, how many years ago) who considered "The Singing Butler" little more than kitsch art. To my amateurish view, that's just downright an ugly statement. Do a search of Jack Vettriano's art and you'll see that this man had a talent that was not kitsch at all, but rather a beautiful self style that echoed with the style of a Master: Edward Hopper. I am certain that I am not the first, nor will be the last to make this connection. Again, do a search and you will see that there are plenty of people willing to label Vettriano a "Hopper wannabe." To me it is the other way around. I suspect that I am being innocent about this, but I think the parallels between the two artists was more the case of one artist absorbing the style of the older, wiser artist and developing a style of his own by means of incorporation. Certainly, the styles are similar in terms of round lines and soft edging, but there is a quality to Vettriano's art that Hopper simply lacks. I cannot post all of the illustrations here to make my point, but the two examples offered here were chosen for a reason. First, the similarities are clear--I've said that--but one thing absent in Hopper is the fullness of movement; the representation of wind, movement and the angular capturing of nature. To be sure, Hopper couldn't possibly do this while depicting his subjects in urban scenes that often turned desolate and lonely; many consider his subjects prisoners of modernity. There are, to be sure, plenty of Hopper paintings (especially his series of residences in Cape Cod) that incorporate elements of nature, but for the most part we know Hopper for his statements of isolation of the individual; the human subject often trapped in rooms with a single window offering the world outside as if in temptation. Vettriano does the same, but places the subject outside the confines of urbanity and reveals nature.

Going back to the idea of color, angular projection and round lines, Hopper and Vettriano are so similar one could easily confuse one for the other. I believe that whether or not Vettriano aimed to make it so (even if he hadn't ever heard of Edward Hopper), he successfully developed an original style from that of Hopper. The absence of facial expression is also a great difference between the two masters. Nevertheless, the two styles blend so closely one has to consider them both original on their own terms.

Good heavens... I've forgotten to write about finishing up "The Diaries of Christopher Isherwood 1939-1960" and how long it took me to cross the ocean of 900 pages. But I feel I have gained new friends in a way, such a tender and tumultuous artistic life; both his and that of Don Bachardy, his long-time partner. The diaries do not cover the later artistic recognition that Isherwood got in the seventies with the extravagance that was "Cabaret." You may recall on my earlier post about Isherwood that I mentioned Sally Bowles and "Cabaret" are based on stories by Isherwood, very early stories at that. At any rate, despite the fact that I disagree with Isherwood practically on everything, I enjoyed "meeting" him and also Bachardy. Here's a video documentary that talks about their relationship HERE. I really think that anything based on real love is a wonderful thing, and, while I don't follow the same emotional interest as Chris and Don, it is a tender story; one can easily grasp that by reading "The Diaries" or watching the documentary. Anything that is REAL LOVE between two people is a blessing... there's already too much hate in the world and anger and pain.