A WEEK OF GRUGER

Nobody talks much today about Frederic Rodrigo Gruger (1871-1953), but years ago, Time magazine proclaimed Gruger "the dean of U.S. magazine illustrators." Norman Rockwell looked up to Gruger as "one of our greatest illustrators."

I suspect one reason Gruger is not more highly regarded today is that his illustrations (almost exclusively black and white drawings) were printed using the limited technology of his era, which turned his rich, dense blacks into chalky grays and lost much of the sharpness and sensitivity of his line.

Gruger in The Saturday Evening Post

Despite the constraints of his medium, Gruger continued to create an astonishing 6,000 illustrations from 1898 to 1943 employing consistently high standards.  His work appeared in most of the top publications of his era. Such an artistic effort deserves attention.

Fortunately, today's improved technology creates a perfect opportunity to assess Gruger's work as it really looked.  So each day this week we'll check out scans of some of Gruger's original drawings.

 Illustration from “Show Boat” by Edna Ferber,
Woman’s Home Companion, April 1926,
Carbon pencil & wash, 10.75 x 16.5"

Gruger understood the human form well enough to rotate human heads and hands as needed for his composition.

Gruger proudly displays his swordsmanship, nimbly searching out the designs in his subject.  Leaving these organizing  lines exposed  preserves vitality in a drawing that might otherwise become overworked and sedentary.

As figures become less important, Gruger's pencil lines become lighter and his details become more sparse, yet even with such characters he uses broad strokes accurately to convey body language and make a meaningful contribution to the drawing.

Notice how subtly he uses a wash to consolidate dark areas of interest in his drawing.

Tomorrow, a different type of drawing from Gruger.

THE SONG OF THE CYNODONT

Cynodont

250 million years ago, before death negotiated its current truce with life, death nearly wiped out all life on earth in a fit of exuberance.

During the Permian Extinction, 96% of all marine species and 70% of all land based vertebrates became extinct. 83% of all genera of insects were wiped out. The planet became a global abattoir, reeking with the stench of spattered life forms whose long and miraculous histories had come abruptly to naught.

Through that million year charnel house crawled one small, ugly, unpromising creature: the cynodont.

Cynodont reconstruction from  BBC

Dull and witless, the cynodont stubbornly continued to place one foot in front of the other. It had no vision of the future to motivate it, but still it held on.

The cynodont couldn't know that its children would one day evolve into the first mammal, and from mammals would arise human beings. By clinging to life through the Permian extinction, the cynodont made human life and all of its glories possible. 

Who was more responsible for the divine moments in art history:  Michelangelo, Rembrandt and Botticelli?  Or the cynodont, who persisted through a million-year midnight?

Like the cynodont, none of us receives a guarantee that our suffering will be redeemed by a meaningful outcome.  Those fortunate enough to be born with the song of the cynodont in their heart persist without any guarantees.  For them, even the remotest possibility of a happy ending is sufficient reason to continue.  Yet there are others-- equally talented,  intelligent, and filled with promise-- who just can't find it within themselves to hang on.  Imagine what their lives might have led to, if they'd just continued putting one foot in front of the other. 

For Lauren, 1986- 2012

Persephone,

Take her head upon your knee;

Say to her, "My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here."

         -- Edna St. Vincent Millay

WARRING WITH TROLLS, part one

 "To live is to war with trolls"  --Henrik Ibsen

Legendary graphic designer Milton Glaser invented the famous "I Love New York" rebus and donated it to the city he loves.

Glaser's original sketch from the collection of the Museum of Modern Art

The city's Department of Commerce trademarked it and generated substantial income for the city.

Many years later, following the attack on New York's World Trade Center on September 11th, Glaser changed his famous logo:

I woke up one day, a few days after 9/11.  I thought, you know, “I love New York” isn’t the story anymore. Something happened. And I realized that what had happened was an injury, like when a friend of yours, somebody you love, gets terribly sick.... A confident giant is hard to love, but a vulnerable giant is easy to love. All of us became aware that the city was vulnerable. Everybody’s heart was bursting with this feeling, “God, I belong here. It’s my city.” And it came to me as an image, you know, it’s a mark, it’s a black mark on the heart.... And so I said, “Gee, I love New York more than ever as a result of this.”

Logo with scorched heart

Glaser offered his revised version to the NY Department of Commerce but they weren't interested.  In an interview in The Believer, Glaser described what happened next:

So the most difficult thing of course is how to introduce one’s ideas into the bloodstream of the culture. It’s very difficult without money or support or approval, because the nature of institutions is to resist all ideas from the outside... So I got a printer, and he said, “I’ll do it for nothing.” And so we printed 5,000 small posters. And so the kids divided the city into segments, and overnight, these posters appeared in windows all over town. And then I called Pete Hammill over at the Daily News, an old friend of mine. And I said, “Pete, I have something, and I wonder if you could find some use for it, or run it in the paper...." He said, “Great, send it down,” so I sent it down, and they called me back and said, “We’ll find a way to use it.” And a day later, they used it as a wraparound for that day’s edition of the paper—the whole thing—and there were a million copies of it out there.

After his revised logo was embraced by the country, Glaser received a call from the NY Department of Commerce, which had changed its mind and now wanted to use it.  However, they decided to improve Glaser's design by removing the black mark on the heart.  Glaser responded, “Sorry, you can’t do it without the black mark on the heart, because that’s the whole point of it.”

In the time-honored tradition of tasteless bureaucrats everywhere, the city employee reacted by threatening Glaser: “You know, you’re in violation of our trademark. So don’t try to use it in any way.”  Soon Glaser received a nasty letter from a lawyer for the city demanding all of Glaser's records of how much money he'd made from the logo, threatening to subpoena him and take him to court.

I couldn’t believe it. So I sent a letter to [the Governor] because of course I hadn’t made any money. Every penny that was made on it went to either the firemen’s fund, or to restore the antenna on WNYC or something. So it was clear: There was no documentation, no paper trail, the whole point of it was not to benefit from it. I also didn’t license it to anybody, because I didn’t want anybody else to make money off it, which would be totally inappropriate.   And a few days later, [the city called back] “We shouldn’t have threatened you. And it was an error. Could we just forget about it?” So I said, “Sure, why don’t we just forget about it.”

There are numerous obstacles to successful creative activity-- a paucity of talent or energy or funds, a paucity of opportunities or time or connections-- but perhaps the most aggravating and interesting obstacle is when morons dig in their heels to oppose it.  Of all the hindrances on the artist's gauntlet, this one is the most unnecessary, yet nature has seen fit to place great energy and enthusiasm behind it.

There are many colorful stories out there about warring with trolls.  This has been one of them.

GOTTA SERVE SOMEBODY

In 1810 the great painter Francisco Goya was commissioned to paint a portrait of King Joseph Bonaparte.

Goya didn't like King Joseph, who Napoleon had placed on the Spanish throne by force, but Goya needed the money so he swallowed his pride and painted Joseph in a gold frame with adoring angels blowing trumpets and placing garlands to his glory.

Shortly after the painting was completed,  King Joseph was driven from Madrid.  Goya seized the opportunity to paint over his portrait of Joseph, replacing his face with the word, "Constitucion."

Unfortunately for Goya, the wheel of fortune turned once again and King Joseph returned to  power.  Joseph's portrait was hastily repainted.

The following year, Joseph was booted out of Spain for good, and Ferdinand VII returned to rule Spain.  Feeling more confident, Goya once again painted over the portrait with the word "Constitucion."

Unfortunately for Goya, Ferdinand VII annulled the Constitution the following year.  Now it was time to paint Ferdinand's face in the hallowed oval.

Goya was spared further revisions to his painting by dying in 1828, but that didn't stop later art directors from coming up with more improvements.  After Ferdinand died, the city of Madrid hired another artist to paint over the portrait of Ferdinand, replacing it with the words,  "Libro de la Constitucion."

That revision lasted almost 30 years until someone else decided that the painting should be modified to read "Dos de Mayo."  That's how it stands today.

I frequently hear from both gallery painters and illustrators that illustration is a lesser art form because illustrators lack the freedom of "fine" artists.  Famed illustrator Robert Weaver used to rant: 

Until the illustrator enjoys complete independence from outside pressure and direction, complete responsibility for his own work, and complete freedom to to do whatever he deems fit-- all necessaries in the making of art-- then illustration cannot be art but only a branch of advertising.

Someday we can debate whether "complete freedom to do whatever [an artist] deems fit" is "necessary" or even helpful for making art.

Today,  I just want to say that those who argue commercial illustration is inferior to fine art need to come up with a better reason than that illustrators must answer to clients.

MARK ENGLISH

Eddie Bauer catalog cover, 1982

The career of famed illustrator Mark English can be divided into three phases.

His first job was picking cotton in the fields around Hubbard Texas for $1.50 per day.  There were no museums or art galleries in Hubbard, but one day English saw a picture on a sign in a store window saying "Welcome Rodeo Fans."  He escaped the cotton fields by teaching himself to paint those signs and earned a living chasing rodeos around the Texas countryside.  After being drafted into the Army he was able to put his experience to work lettering signs for latrines.

In the second phase he became a nationally renowned illustrator who received more awards from the Society of Illustrators than any other illustrator.

English's beautifully sensitive portrait of Dracula

Victorian Interior

In the third phase he became a fine artist, selling his artwork in galleries. 

Right now, some of you are probably saying, "Hey wait-- go back to that part about going from painting latrine signs to being a nationally renown artist.  How the heck did he manage that?"

Well, studying at the Art Center in Los Angeles after he got out of the army surely had something to do with it, but when he was asked about his "biggest break in becoming a nationally known illustrator, " he responded:

[T]here was one job.  I had moved to Connecticut and in my first year there I made 20% of the salary that i had made in my last year.... It was a tough year and I had a lot of time on my hands.  I think not having much work enhanced my career more than anything else.  I spent a lot of time experimenting, trying to come up with something unique and different, and I think toward the end of that year I managed to do that on a job for the Readers Digest [for the book, Little Women]....I think that three or four of the illustrations were accepted into the Society's annual exhibition that year.  One of them won an award and got me a little attention.  After that I got into magazines and my career was launched.

English recalls that during that dry spell at the beginning, he went 8 months without getting a single assignment. His wife was worried and money became very tight but he didn't surrender. "I think [it was] the best thing that ever happened to me, but at the time I didn't think so." English studied Vuillard, Bonnard and other painters, and gradually developed a style that worked for him. "I don't think that I ever worked harder at anytime than I did during those eight months, trying to get better and be more competitive."

That, friends, is how you go from painting latrine signs to becoming a nationally renown illustrator.

THE OTHER LESSON FROM THE SUPERMAN CHECK

Everyone knows the story of how two Cleveland boys, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, created the character of Superman and, short of money, signed all their rights away to a corporation for $130.  That corporation went on to reap hundreds of millions of dollars from their creation while Siegel and Shuster went hungry.

The infamous check which purchased the rights to Superman is now being auctioned.  As of today the bidding stands at $36,000.

The check is one of those wonderful avatars that remind us how artists will always be prey to accountants on the food chain, and that the largest share of the profits will always go to those with the cunning to exploit someone else's creativity.

(It also reminds us why corporations should not have the legal rights of a natural person.  In the words of  Lord Chancellor Thurlow,  a corporation is not a person because it "has no soul to be damned, and no body to be kicked.")

 Lots of people (and also lots of lawyers) have spent years debating the lesson of the check for Superman.  In long drawn out court battles and press campaigns, the corporations that prospered from Superman have been shamed or pestered into making supplemental payments and concessions to the families of Siegel and Shuster (who seemed to have the typical artist's penchant for mishandling their affairs).

But today I am interested in the other lesson of the check for Superman.

It is difficult to place a value on art because art has no inherent value aside from the value created by its context.  A few years before selling the rights to Superman, the creators themselves placed little value on it; artist Joe Shuster burned pages of superman artwork because he couldn't find a single publisher willing to touch it.  Then, a few years after buying the rights to Superman, the new owner had to sue those same publishers to keep them from infringing on the now valuable idea.   What created the "value" in the art?

John Chipman Gray noted, "Dirt is only matter out of place," and the same point could be made about art.  What is important and valuable art in one context may be worthless as dirt in another.

Much of the art we talk about here is art "out of place"-- it is located in ads for dish washing detergent,  in faded magazines of fiction for housewives, or scratched on the wall of a hermit's basement apartment rather than hanging in a gold frame on a gallery wall.  Art out of place-- unrecognized, misunderstood or unappreciated-- seems to have very little meaning or value.

Rather than being cause for despair, this should serve as a reminder to keep our eyes (and minds) open.

The next time two boys down the block tell you they have invented a really cool superhero, don't wait for some grandee of the art world to transport their creation into its "proper" place before you are capable of seeing it.

FRANKLIN McMAHON 1921-2012

Franklin McMahon, the last of the great illustrator-reporters, died last week at age 90.

McMahon worked in a bygone era when newspapers and news magazines relied on artists to add class and grace to the reportage of current events.  For 50 years, McMahon went everywhere and witnessed everything on behalf of news publications such as The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, Look, Life, Time and Sports Illustrated.

His career as a reporter began in 1955, when McMahon covered the infamous Emmett Till murder trial for Life Magazine.

Emmett Till's aged uncle points a quavering finger at his nephew's murderers

He went on to cover the key events of the Civil Rights movement, the space program and numerous political campaigns.  Unlike a camera, McMahon prioritized the essential elements of his images and conveyed his impressions, adding an important dimension.

Pope John xxiii

The Vatican

McMahon recalled that he was hired by publications that were "confronted with mountains of material and a need to transcend the usual dreary recitation of facts and figures."  His role was to "heighten the emotional reaction to a printed piece and transmit the special flavor of a [subject]."

The Duomo, Milan

Detail of Duomo, above

His documentary artwork also added distinctive elements to annual reports and trade journals:
 

The day of the illustrator-reporter is now gone, just as the newspapers and news magazines where these pictures once appeared are in the process of disappearing.  Many of the professional photographers who replaced illustrator-reporters are being replaced by internet stock photos and amateur cell phone users.

But for many years, talented illustrators such as Franklin McMahon logged a lot of miles pursuing an important craft, making great sacrifices to do quality work.  The death of McMahon is a good time to remind ourselves of their contributions and honor their role. 

ONE LOVELY DRAWING, part 40

Artists who can't draw have become emboldened by the excuse that traditional drawing skills are less relevant today.  The focus of art has shifted, we are told, from visual appearance to intellectual concept, making the technical skills of yesterday obsolete. 

I've had fun making unkind remarks about this fashion trend, not only because I find the drawing so bad but because the "concepts" that supposedly justify this trade off frequently turn out to be mewling platitudes.  Any artist who claims, "I'm so smart I don't have to draw well" better have more convincing evidence than the pop psychology that pervades so much of today's drawing. 

But every once in a while, some artist gets it right.  They shed the straightjacket of representational drawing while still preserving the important elements: a sensitive, meaningful line, a deep appreciation for form, a strong sense for design and composition.  And they use their freedom from realism to infuse their work with a conceptual profundity that was never witnessed in the golden age of illustration.

Exhibit A is this excellent drawing by John Cuneo:
   

This is a small drawing, about 8 inches tall.  We can tell from Cuneo's subtle treatment of color and line that this picture will require genuine attention if we are to understand what the artist is up to: 

Strange, mismatched eyes give this face a distinctive character

Cuneo recognizes that if you are going to reinvent the human form, it can't just be because you're too lazy to learn anatomy.    Here is an artist who has made an emotional investment in his variations.

There are a thousand ways one might draw a doll with a loose, casual line but it is extremely difficult to achieve the kind of unnerving distortions that frighten us in voodoo dolls and African totem figures.

A hilarious masterpiece of dehumanization

Below, Cuneo adds another layer of horror:

Note how subtly the artist diminishes the distinction between men and dogs by putting a business shirt on the dog in the corner.  At the same time, in the same corner, we are reminded that dogs are slobbering beasts:

That wonderfully drawn "slobbering beast" visually echoes a slobbering human beast on the left:

But this drawing is no simple polemic.  The slothful dog under the table in the background adds a very different (and important) flavor, as does the falling cup of coffee (I love that shadow).

It would be a mistake to go on vivisecting this brilliant little drawing, speculating about symbolism or second guessing the artist's intentions.  I have no idea how much of this drawing is conscious and how much is intuitive.  Cuneo steadfastly refuses to explain any of his drawings, and for good reason.  They are better than that.  

For me, this drawing is the visual equivalent of a Pinter play or a Kafka short story, every bit as profound and smart and funny.   I think it is work of enduring value.

THE CARTOONIST'S REVENGE

 

Everyone knows what it takes to have a successful career.  A college education is essential.  A graduate degree is even better (preferably in a field such as technology, business or finance).   You have to dress for success, build a network of important contacts, and cultivate the  Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.  Language proficiency in Chinese wouldn't hurt.

But on the other hand, if you have none of these you might try sitting alone in a ratty T shirt and drawing doodles.  When you lack the necessary credentials, or even basic literacy, a simple line can still be The Great Equalizer.

Cartoonist Thomas Nast could scarcely read or write but he had a greater impact than all the lawyers, accountants,  famous writers and powerful government officials combined in bringing down the corrupt politicians who controlled New York.  Nast's drawings resonated with the public and knocked the Tweed politicians off their throne.  He also created many popular symbols, such as the Republican elephant and Democratic donkey, and influenced presidential elections.  (Nast's wife Sarah corrected the spelling in his captions).  Nast became so wealthy from his drawings that he was able to hire scholars to read to him from Shakespeare, Dickens, and Twain as he worked. 

David Low: the Nazis shovel more troops into Stalingrad

David Low was born in a small remote town in New Zealand.  He had little money, no contacts and left school at a young age.  Yet, the lines he drew had an impact on international relations.  Hitler was enraged by Low's biting drawings, and the Nazi government formally protested to the British government.  After the war, Winston Churchill protested that Low's cartoons about a politically sensitive situation should be censored for the sake of "western democracy." 

Albert Dorne, from the Famous Artists School materials

Albert Dorne never made it past 7th grade.  A sickly child, born in the most brutal poverty and squalor, he leveraged a knack for drawing into great wealth, prestige and influence.  Dorne went on to fill many roles, as the head of a multinational corporation, a lecturer, author and instructor.  He consorted with movie stars and senators.  But each step of the way it was his drawing that made everything possible.

The great Jeff MacNelly captures President Carter's dilemma

Jeff MacNelly dropped out of college but his brilliant drawings gave him influence with a huge audience that was the envy of career politicians and policy experts. When he won his first Pulitzer prize at age 25, MacNelly said he was hanging the certificate high on his wall to fool visitors into thinking it was a college degree.

In the last few years there have been several incidents where drawings of the prophet Muhammad have upset the balance of international relations, inspiring wild mobs to riot, kill, invade and burn down embassies.

 Cartoonists may not be paid the way investment bankers are paid.  They don't get preferential treatment in fancy restaurants the way movie stars do, or command armies the way political leaders do.  They mostly dress like slobs.   But in their ability to make a line on paper, they still have the means to shake up the world.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY