Thursday, July 2, 2015

Pictorial Composition: Breadth of Treatment by Henry Poore

There is an aspect in many fine paintings, something that an artist should strive to achieve, that is called "breadth of treatment." It is a quality that allows the viewer's eye to flow easily across a picture and is quite deliberately striven after by those artists who value it. Here are some very helpful comments on it by Henry Rankin Poore, an American artist, illustrator, critic and author who studied both in America and abroad in the late 1800's, and wrote a book called Pictorial Composition and the Critical Judgment of Pictures.


Breadth Versus Detail

Subjectively the painter and the photographer stretch after the same goal. Technically they approach it from opposite directions.

The painter starts with a bare surface and creates detail; the photographer is supplied therewith.

Art lies somewhere between these starting points; for art is a reflection of an idea and ideas may or may not have to do with detail.

According to the subject then is the matter of detail to serve us. In the expression of character a certain amount of detail is indispensable; by the painter to be produced, by the photographer saved. But detail is often so beautiful in itself and is not art a presentation of the beautiful, pleads the photographer. And the reply in the Socratic method is: "Look at the whole subject: does the idea of it demand this detail?"

The untutored mind always sees detail. For this reason most education is inductive, but though the process is inductive, the goal is the eternal synthesis. It is the reporter who gathers the facts: the editor winnows therefrom the moral.

Bishop Henry Codman Potter by Robert Blum

The artist must - in time - get on top and take this survey. Looking at any subject with eyes half closed enables him to see it without detail, and later, with eyes slowly opening, admitting that much only which is necessary to character.

The expression of character by masses of black and white proves this. Bishop Potter is unmistakable, his features bounded by their shadows. From such a start then it is a question of procedure cautiously to that point where the greatest charcter lies, but beyong which point detail becomes unnecessary to character.

The pen portrait of Thackeray by Robert Blum is a careful delineation of the characteristic head of the novelist set on shoulders characteristically bent forward and the body characteristically tall. What more can be told of Thackeray's personality? Would the buttons and the wrinkles of the clothing help matters! No, as facts they would not, and when art has to do only with character, the simplest statement is the most forcible.

Millet, at one time, was known as "the man who painted peasants without wrinkles in their breeches." Not because wrinkles were too hard for him, nor because they were not thought worthwhile, but because, in his effort to prune his picture of the unessentials, the wrinkles were brushed aside.

Peasants Planting Potatoes by Jean-Francois Millet

When, however, art has to do with filling an entire space with something, and the clothing occupies a considerable part of it, what shall be done? This changes the details of the question, yet of all portraits that hit hard in exhibitions are those conceived in simplicity, those in which the personality is what stops and holds us.

There are certain large organic lines of drapery which the character demands, but beyond this point opinion divides authoritatively from the complete silence of obliteration to the tumultuous noisiness of "the whole truth."

In the portraits by Carreire all detail is swept away, and the millinery artists are shocked. Simplicity should never compromise texture and quality. This side of the truth cannot prove objectionable.

"You have made my broadcloth look like two-fifty a yard and it really cost four," was a criticism offered by a young lady who posed in a riding habit. Such practical criticism is frequently necessary to bring the artist down from the top height observatory were he is absorbed with "the big things."

Breadth does not signify neglect of detail or neglect of finish; it means simplification where unity had been threatened. It is seeing the big side of small things, if the small things cannot be ignored.

The Daguerrotype by William McGregor Paxton
The lighting of a subject has much to do with its breadth. A light may be selected that will chop such a well organized unit as the body into three or four separate sections, or one that produces an equal division of light and shade - seldom good. Shadows are generally the hiding places for mystery; and mystery is ever charming. None better than Rembrandt knew the value of those vague spaces of nothingness, in backgrounds, and in the figure itself, a sudden pitch from light and positiveness into conjecture. We hear in photography much of the "Rembrandtesque effect," which when produced proves to be just blackness. There can be no shadow without light, and Rembrandt's effort was to obtain this, rather than produce darkness.

The feeling of light may also be broadly expressed by a direct illumination. Here the shadow plays a very small part, and the subject is presented in its outline. Under such an effect we lose variety but gain simplicity. This brings us close to the region of two dimensions, the realm of Japanese art and mural decoration. The portraits of Manet, the decorations of Puvis de Chavannes, and the early Italians, display the quality of breadth because of the simplicity of lighting which these subjects received.
Young Woman Reading a Letter
by William Worcester Churchill
Breadth in the treatment of the figure may be obtained by graded light. If a shadow be produced at the bottom of the picture sufficiently strong to obliterate both the light and shade of detail, and thence be made to weaken as it proceeds upward and finally give place to light, where light is most needed, great simplicity as well as the element of variety will be the result.

Thus, in the most effective treatment in mural decoration, one sees only the grand forms, the movement, the intention, those things which most befit the inner surface of the building being also those which bear the greater importance. The fact is used as an argument for the assumption that painting should, after all, be an art of two dimensions, length and breadth, reserving thickness and its representation, for sculpture. This robs painting of the quality of natural aspect, except under the single effect of absolutely direct lighting and ignores its development beyond the flatly colored representations of the ancient Egyptians, our American Indians and the Japanese, a development inaugurated by the Greeks and sinse adhered to by all occidental nations.

The student who goes to nature and sees mass only, discarding all detail, will run the chance of being a colorist as well as a painter of breadth, two of the most important qualifications; for if he refuses to be stopped by detail his intelligence will crystallize upon that other thing which attracts him. He will think the harder upon the simple relations of tones and the exact color. Slowly dexterity will add a facility to his brush and he will, while aiming at character, through breadth, unconsciously introduce characteristic detail. This is the hope of the new method which is now being introduced into the system of public school instruction.

The scheme as developed by Mr. Dow is decorative rather than naturalistic, the aesthetic side with "Beauty," as the watchword being in greatest point. The filling of spaces in agreeable and harmonious arrangement does not demand strict acknowledgment of natural aspect.  Indeed this is denied in most cases where the limitations of decoration are enjoined. With the first principle, truth, upon which all education rests, as the basis of such study, the nature part of this system will fall into its logical channels. If nature's largeness and simplicity contributes to its value, then nature should be consulted when she is large and simple. Studies of trees in gray silhouette, should be made at twilight, either of evening or early morning, when the detail, which is useless to the decorative scheme, is not seen. Under such conditions so slight or sacrifice is necessitated. Nature then contributes her quantity directly and the student has no warrant in assuming to change her. There are times also when the face of nature is so varied that the most fantastic schemes of Notan are observed; a harbor filled with sails and seagulls, a crowd of people speckling the shore, the houses of a village dotted over a hillside. Under a direct light these become legitimate subjects offered by nature herself to the scheme which, however, she only now and then honors.

The system therefore accompanies the student but part way and leaves him still knocking at the door of the complete naturalistic presentation of pictorial art, a development which stretches into limitless possibilities by the use of the third dimension.

Work in two dimensions by season of its greater simplicity should naturally precede the complications involved in producing the completely modelled forms of nature, and therein the argument for its use in the early stages of the student's development is a strong one.



* from "Pictorial Composition and the Critical Judgment of Pictures" by H.R. Poore, 1903


Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Significance of Frank Duveneck


At the time of Frank Duveneck's birth in 1848, American art had not yet developed a successful voice of its own. Only a handful of her painters had managed to achieve recognition on the worldwide stage and fewer still were significantly esteemed on America's own shores. There were common itinerant portraitists, sign painters, building decorators, and those who drew and painted the flora, fauna and scenery being discovered as the country moved west, but it wasn't until 1850, two years after Frank Duveneck's birth, that America's first art movement came into existence: the Hudson River School. It was distinguished by its idealized, tightly-rendered, large and luminous landscapes and seascapes.  
Frederic Edwin Church . West Rock, New Haven 1849
At that time, for those who wished to study art seriously, there were very few art schools. The National Academy of Design in New York City and the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia were the most notable, but their curricula were limited. American students who were intent on learning their craft had to travel to Europe for training – to Germany and France in particular. Among those who studied art abroad was Frank Duveneck. He was the first-born son of German immigrant parents who had settled in Covington, Kentucky - just across the Ohio River from the far larger town of Cincinnati. As a boy he had a reputation for being artistic, and local merchants paid him to create signs for their shops. As he grew older “his priest recommended him to Johann Schmitt and Wilhelm Lamprecht, German lay brothers, who had been invited to immigrate and decorate Roman Catholic churches. He was apprenticed to help them beginning with the local mission church. They instructed him in wood carving, modeling figures, designing friezes, gilding, leading glass panes and painting frescoes.” Their work beautified churches locally, in different states and even in Canada - and is still treasured and preserved by a number of those churches. 
 
Eglise Saint Roumuald, Montreal, Canada


He continued to attract the attention of those who recognized his potential, and when he was 21, his parents were persuaded to send him to Munich, Germany for art studies. Duveneck arrived there at a pivotal time. 

Realism, an art movement birthed in France, had just been embraced by the director and leading teachers of Munich's Royal Academy of Fine Arts  (in which Frank had enrolled), and also by the city's leading artist, Wilhelm Leibl. The founder of Realism, French artist Gustave Courbet, had come to Munich to demonstrate his style of art and had left not only Leibl but many other artists in the city completely inspired. Breaking from the approved subject matter of that time - mythological and great historical events populated by noble, idealized people - Courbet instead wished to paint “everyday subjects and situations in contemporary settings, depicting individuals of all social classes in a similar manner.” In his “Realist Manifesto” he wrote: “To know in order to be able to create, that was my idea. To be in a position to translate the customs, the ideas, the appearance of my epoch, according to my own estimation; to be not only a painter, but a man as well; in short, to create living art - this is my goal.” His work provoked the art establishment. His large depictions of a common man’s funeral in “Burial at Ornans” and that of simple laborers in “Stone-Breakers” were considered scandalous – and rejected by the jury of the Universal Exposition of 1844.
 
Courbet: “Burial At Ornans,” 10.3' x 21.7'

As we consider Realism as Courbet defined it, we also must not think that it referred to a precise and careful depiction of visual appearances – which was instead at that time a characteristic of academic painting. While things were depicted realistically, the style of brushwork and tightness of depiction were not defining traits of the movement. This was especially true in Munich, where the artists gave it their own very distinctive twist, one that had evolved quickly after two exhibitions in the city. One exhibition had exposed the artists to works from the old masters – such as Rubens, Rembrandt, Velazquez and Hals; the other to paintings of current, cutting-edge artists like Courbet. (In fact his previously rejected “Stone Cutters” was the hit of the latter exhibit.) The leading artists in Munich started depicting common people and things with loose brushwork (like Hals) on backgrounds of dark brown (as in the masters' works), the style which is recognized today as the Munich School of painting. 
 
Wilhelm Leibl, Peasant Boy
They also began to train the academy’s students along these new paths - including an enthusiastic Frank Duveneck. His family had sent him to Munich to become a skillful church decorator, but he quickly lost interest in that profession once he found this style which suited his talent and temperament. He excelled, completing courses rapidly while winning top medals, a place in the best classes, studio space and expenses for models, and even an offer from Germany’s eminent portraitist, Franz von Lenbach, to become his assistant.

By the time Frank returned to the States, he had changed. Although he did go to work for a church decorating company - as his parents had planned, his first love now was fine art. He found ways to continue it. He associated with other fine artists in the area. He shared a studio with a young sculptor, Frank Dengler, who had studied with him in Munich. He became good friends with Dusseldorf-trained depicter of Native Americans, Henry Farny. He also volunteered to teach a night class in life drawing at the Mechanics Institute of Cincinnati. His students there were a fine group of young men who became esteemed artists in their own right, among whom were John Twachtman, Kenyan Cox, and Frederic Blum. He painted portrait commissions too until 1875 when he was invited by esteemed Boston artist William Morris Hunt to show five of his paintings at the Boston Art Club. 
Frank Duveneck, Whistling Boy
His work created a sensation, and he was acclaimed by critics and public alike. One art critic, Henry James, wrote:

"The discovery of an unsuspected man of genius is always an interesting event and nowhere perhaps could such an event excite a higher relish than in the aesthetic city of Boston. Many people just now in the New England capital are talking of Mr. Frank Duveneck and incidentally of Velazquez. Mr. Duveneck is a painter of the rigidly natural school. Unadorned reality is as yet his exclusive theme...the handling is of the broadest and freest, the color ranges through only two or three variations of black or gray, but the relief, the vigor, the frankness, the comprehensive simplicity are most striking...Mr. Duveneck on the exhibition of these works was, we believe, invited to come to Boston where a dozen immediate orders for portraits were assured him. We learn, with pleasure, that it is proposed to bring these portraits to New York and place them temporarily on exhibition. We hope for the sake of every one concerned, that they will encounter perfect, adequate appreciation, but that it will be remembered that Mr. Duveneck is very young, and that if we praise him too lavishly now, we shall have nothing left to say about him twenty years hence."

The people loved his style which was radically different from that of the Hudson River School and also different from the style that Dusseldorf-trained American artist Emanuel Leutze used as in “Washington Crossing the Delaware.” Frank's paintings, which included his famous (even to this day) depiction of a young rascal smoking a cigar, “Whistling Boy,” were bold, loosely painted portraits with dark backgrounds a la Munich School Realism. All of his work at the exhibit sold at prices beyond his expectations, and his reputation soared.

Frank Duveneck, The Turkish Page
At that point he could easily have stayed in the States and had a successful career, but he returned to Europe to continue his artistic journey. He and fellow Royal Academy student William Merritt Chase shared a studio – and subject matter on occasion - for some time in Germany and in Italy. Again there were outstanding reviews when several years later they showed their work in the prestigious 1878 National Academy of Design's exhibit in New York. Duveneck’s painting “The Turkish Page” was a sensation. People admired “his mastery of all technical difficulties, the justness of his tonal values and wet-into-wet straightforward painting.” The work now hangs in the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. “Some critics announced that the artist's offhand painterly methods heralded a rejuvenation of American art. Another observed that 'these brilliant paintings and the new attitudes these works implied profoundly shook the traditional aesthetic assumptions of our native school. The more far-sighted critics hailed the exhibition as the dawning of a new era for American art.”

Duveneck continued his explorations mastering new art forms and techniques. While he continued to paint portraits in the Realist vein, he also ventured outdoors to paint - and he didn't go alone. He now had his own group of students, called the Duveneck Boys. They called him “The Professor,” and he taught these thirty young men as they sketched and painted the countryside around Polling, Germany. Both he and they learned to see new colors and light in ways that working in a studio could never teach them. It was no coincidence that some of the greatest artists in America at that time came from his students: John White Alexander, Louis Ritter, Joseph DeCamp, Otto Bacher, Theodore Wendel, Harper Pennington, Julian Story and Julius Rolshoven. The dark brown “soup” of Munich disappeared from Frank's outdoor work. 


Frank Duveneck Landscape Study

His plein air paintings, such as “Beechwood at Polling, 1878,” were full of light as well as his typically expressive application of pigment. He continued plein air work throughout his life - in Germany, Italy, and after his permanent move back to the States, in Gloucester, Massachusetts in particular. “He crowned his late career with an achievement that has not received enough critical attention. His series of Gloucester, Massachusetts seascapes must be counted among his most personal and revealing works...about one hundred in all. The best of these seacoast scenes revealed that his unerring eye and daring hand remained intact, even though weakened. They show deep discernment of physical nature and tight composition. The best are mysteriously evocative, appealing as much to the mind as to the eye."

Duveneck was an extraordinarily gifted man – someone who enjoyed exploring different facets of art with the ability to master them very quickly. In the 1880s he put his hand to etching. He produced a remarkable series of 37 plates in Venice so beautifully done that James McNeill Whistler’s own gallery in London thought that Whistler had done them under a pseudonym. In his book Etchers and Etching, Joseph Pennell comments on Duveneck's mastery of the medium: “No one has approached him in beauty and meaning of line...every line is vital, the point of view is personal and the arrangement individual...they are masterpieces.” This author, who was Chairman of the International Jury of Awards for Engraving at the Panama-Pacific Exhibition in 1915, proposed a special gold medal for Duveneck for these etchings which was enthusiastically agreed upon and presented by an international jury comprised of about 30 outstanding painters and sculptors from both the States and Europe. 


Ponte Rialto by Frank Duveneck, 1883
Frank Duveneck was also acclaimed for his sculpture – particularly his wife's funereal effigy - which is remarkable since it was the first that he had done. Elizabeth Boott Duveneck had been one of his admirers ever since she saw his work in the 1875 Boston Art Club show. She and her father had purchased one of Frank's paintings, and she pursued studies with him both in Munich and then in Florence, Italy. They were eventually married after a rocky six-year courtship and shared a studio and models for a time until their son was born. A year later in 1888, while they were both in Paris studying art and preparing for the annual Salon, Lizzie contracted pneumonia and died. Their son went to live with Lizzie's relatives in Boston, an arrangement that regularly brought Frank there for lengthy visits, while he himself returned to Covington to his family’s home. There he collaborated with Cincinnati sculptor Clement Barnhorn to create a bronze memorial effigy for his wife’s grave in Italy. He received multiple commissions from American museums for its replication: one in Carrera marble to place in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston (which also received honorable mention in the 1895 Paris Salon); four others for Chicago, Indianapolis, Lincoln and San Francisco; and in 1917, at the urging from none other than Daniel French, the famous American sculptor of the Lincoln Memorial, one for a bronze version gilded with gold leaf for the Metro­politan Museum of Art. The original plaster cast is still on display in Cincinnati, along with the marble and gilt versions in Boston and New York. 


Elizabeth Boott Duveneck Effigy (detail)
white Carrera marble at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Duveneck also painted notable murals for the prayer chapel at St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington, Kentucky (on the National Registry). It was a five-year project, resulting in three large panels, each ten by twenty-four feet, dedicated to his mother who had hoped for him to have a career as a church decorator. They involved many studies and trips to Europe that not only resulted in the fine finished pieces but several additional paintings.



Aside from introducing Realism to the American art scene and being extremely talented, Duveneck had another outstanding gift that would help advance art in America – that of teaching. At this time our country desperately needed well-trained teachers to help develop the abilities of students right here in the States. This was a crucial role in our country's artistic development, and these years saw European-trained American artists beginning art schools that helped change the need to go abroad for a good education. Duveneck turned down offers to teach in New York at the Art Students' League and in Chicago at the Art Institute (where they had told him to name his salary) to reach out in his own area of the country.



Josephine Duveneck writes:
 "Many critics and art historians...have failed to take into account the outstanding qualities of Duveneck as a teacher, and the difficulty he had in extricating himself from the demands made by the growing number of art students in the United States. From the early days in Munich, when the “Boys” left the Academy to study with him, up to the very last year of his life, he was sought by hundreds of students. Because of his great liking for young people, he responded with warmth and enthusiasm, sharing his skill and experience with complete generosity. In the successes of the young men and women who worked under him, he seems to have found as much, perhaps even more, satisfaction as in his own triumphs...In Cincinnati, Nicholas Longworth gave a substantial sum for the establishment of an art academy. In 1890 Duveneck joined the faculty of Cincinnati's Art Academy and continued to teach there for almost twenty years until his death."
His outstanding contribution as a teacher was recognized in 1917 when he was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Cincinnati. The finest tribute, however, was at a memorial meeting after his death held at the Art Museum by his students. The following resolution was adopted: 
 
"Frank Duveneck, master in sculpture, in etching, and supremely master with the brush, has left in his words a legacy of unlimited value. We the students of the Duveneck Class, who worked under him in the early days in Europe, in Boston, or here in Cincinnati, are possessed of a treasure even richer, the inspiration of his character, of his vigorous and tender personality, of the high ideals of art and of life he implanted.
Great teacher, most kindly and just of critics, dear friend, he has been to us like a father to his children. Each of us has felt his protecting encouragement, his tender anxiety that we attain to the best within our powers. His careful instruction, his kindly interest were freely given to his students whether they clung far down on the ladder of the struggle to learn or had reached the upper rounds. He gave his best without stint. No appeal for help was unanswered or misunderstood. No effort was too great for him to make on our behalf. All he demanded of us was honesty of endeavor and sincerity of purpose. His criticism, whether sought or unsought, was just. Invariably constructive, it was a spur to greater effort. Frank Duveneck stood for the highest ideals. He gave to those who were near him sympathy and loyalty.
Be It Therefore Resolved: That we, his students, are united by the privilege of association with the master, the great teacher of his day. That we shall cherish the nobility of his ideals, striving not only to live up to the best in ourselves as he would have us do, but to keep alive and pass on to those with whom we may be associated, the teachings and ideals of one who has been an inspiration not only in art, but in life itself."
Duveneck was not only respected and loved by his students, but had influence in a number of art organizations. From the time of his return to the States in 1888, he received invitations to positions of honor. He became the first president of the Society of Western Artists (1896), and president of the Cincinnati Art Club (1896-98). He also sat on the juries of prestigious art competitions, both nationally and internationally such as that for the Paris Exhibition (1899), which placed him alongside of first-rate American artists Winslow Homer, Edwin Blashfield, Hugh Bolton Jones, John LaFarge, H. Siddons Mowbray, Robert Vonnoh, J. Alden Weir, Cecilia Beaux and William Merritt Chase. When he went to spend time with his son in Massachusetts on long holidays and during the summers he became “a pivotal figure of the Cape Ann art community.” Students and artist friends, such as Theodore Wendel, Joseph DeCamp, John W. Alexander, John Twachtman, and Herman and Bessie Wessel from Boston and Cincinnati came with him to paint at Gloucester en plein air, and he has work hanging in the Cape Ann Museum.

Duveneck also had a significant influence on the Cincinnati Art Museum. His association with its director, Thomas Joseph Gest, was quite directive in the museum's development. Thomas esteemed Duveneck highly and often consulted with him about the purchase of works of art for the institution. Elizabeth Cary, writing in The New York Times, asserted, “The spirit of Duveneck for many years has informed the Museum and made it that vital stimulating extraordinarily moving place that it is.” In a time when Americans were prone to favor European artists, the Cincinnati Art Museum was the first American art museum to patronize American art, a practice that Frank encouraged. He also donated his personal collection of approximately 150 paintings to the museum.

When one asks where he was pegged in the national and international world of art in his time, the answer comes in the form of a special recognition awarded him at the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition. A special gold medal was decided upon by a jury of 30 artists not only from the States but from abroad. A letter from the foreign members of the jury (from Holland, Japan, Cuba, Italy, Portugal, China, Argentina, Sweden and Norway) said: “'Whereas the comprehensive retrospective collection of Mr. Frank Duveneck's work in oils, etching and sculpture brought together here has unquestionably proven to be the real surprise of the whole American Section in the Palace of Fine Arts, and, whereas, these works have astonished and delighted all those hitherto unacquainted with his life work, while confirming the opinion of those few who have long held him in the highest esteem both as an artist and as a man, we the foreign jurors on the International Jury of Award, feel that some special recognition of his distinguished contribution to American art should be awarded Mr. Duveneck, and we herewith recommend a Special Medal of Honor be struck in his honor and awarded him.” Norbert Hermann’s book on Duveneck, written 3 years after the Panama-Pacific Exposition, continued that praise, comparing his skills to those of the old masters.

The art world and his city were and still are grateful:
Statue of Frank Duveneck holding a plaque with his wife's
picture on it in Covington, Kentucky
  • In 1929, ten years after his death, a commemorative bronze plaque was affixed to his house on Greenup Street in Covington (and is still there) by the Covington Art Club, the Tuesday Club and the Women’s Club which read, “Here lived Frank Duveneck, a great artist, 1848-1919. 
  • In 2003 the entry room of the Cincinnati Wing at the Cincinnati Art Museum was dedicated to showing his work and life story. 
  • In 2006 the exterior of Duveneck’s home was renovated through a grant from the Kentucky Heritage Coun­cil, and applications for grants for an interior renovation have been made to bring it back to its appearance during Duve­neck’s residence. 
  • His work and his teaching are still used to instruct art students. 
  • In 2006 a life-size statue of Frank Duveneck holding a picture of his wife, Elizabeth Boott, was erected in his honor in Covington, Kentucky. 
  • The members of the Cincinnati Art Club, an organization that included Duveneck as a founding member and president, make an annual visit to his nearby grave in the Mother of God Cemetery. 
  • This year 2015 is the hundredth anniversary of the Panama-Pacific Exhibition. In recognition of Duveneck's gold medal, the Cincinnati Art Museum is loaning his “Whistling Boy” to the year-long celebration. 
  • In 2019 on the 100th anniversary of his death, the Cincinnati Art Museum has plans to celebrate his work and life.

Hermann, Norbert, Frank Duveneck 
Cary, Elisabeth Luther, Dec. 24, 1922 “A Glimpse of Art in Cincinnati” New York Times
Whistler, James Abbott McNeill, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies
Pennell, Joseph, Etchers and Etching
Duveneck, Josephine, Frank Duveneck: Painter, Teacher
Neuhaus, Robert, Unsuspected Genius: The Art and Life of Frank Duveneck
Boime, Albert, Art in an Age of Civil Struggle, 1848-1871