Jules Bastien-Lepage and His Art

French artist Jules Bastien-Lepage (1848-1884) has captured the hearts of many people with his rustic scenes and sensitively painted work. Quite often friends will mention how his "Jeanne d'Arc," at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, has stopped them in their tracks holding them spellbound. Bastien also became a leader in the Naturalist school as he pulled his subject matter primarily from the countryside around his hometown of Damvillers, France. 

Recently I ran across a captivating biography written by his good friend and author Andre Theuriet entitled, "Jules Bastien-Lepage and His Art: A Memoir." I have excerpted those things about him that interested me the most for this blogpost - beginning with the beginning...

The Early Years

Jules Bastien-Lepage was born at Damvillers on November 1, 1848, in a simple, well-to-do farmer's house, the front coloured yellow, the shutters gray. His father was a sensible, industrious, methodical man; the mother a woman of truest heart and untiring devotion, and Grandfather Lepage, formerly a collector of taxes, had now found a home with his children. They lived on the modest produce of the fields which they themselves cultivated and on the grandfather's small pension. Jules' father required that his son should draw with pencil on paper the various articles in use upon the table - the lamp, the jug, the inkstand, etc. It was to this that Bastien-Lepage owed that love of sincerity, that patient seeking for exactness of detail, which were the ruling motives of his life as an artist. The dream was to educate Jules for a position in an administrative career, and by great sacrifice they were able to send him to the College of Verdun." But he was soon astonishing his master there with his great drawing abilities. One thing led to another till finally Jules told them he wished to be an artist.

Portrait of the Artist's Grandfather, 1874
at the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Nice, France

The Bastien-Lepages held a family council. The grandfather considered Jules' desire to study in Paris hazardous and shook his head. The mother was frightened above all at the dangers of Paris and the life of privation to be undergone there, but, conquered at last by the persistency of her son, she murmured timidly, "Yet, if Jules wishes it..."

He obtained a position with the post office in Paris and studied off hours at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. But doing two things well was too difficult. He quit the post office. So his mother went to work in the fields. With an additional annual allowance voted him by his region, he was able to study with Cabanel and sent his first picture to the Paris Salon in 1870. It went unnoticed - and then the Seige of Paris came. He was wounded and spent time recovering back in his village.

He returned to study in Paris. Entered the Salon in 1872. No attention was paid to his work. Then in 1874 he entered a painting of his grandfather in the open air, in the little garden which he loved to cultivate. He held on his knees his horn snuff-box and his handkerchief of blue cotton. His blue eyes twinkled with humour; the white forked beard spread itself over an ancient vest of the colour of dead leaves. The public was delighted. He won a third-class medal and success.

Introducing Jules

Jules Bastien-Lepage

A mutual friend introduced Lepage and myself to each other. I saw before me a young man, plainly dressed, small, fair and muscular. His pale face with its square determined brow, short nose and spiritual lips, scarcely covered with a blond moustache, was lighted up by two clear blue eyes whose straight and piercing look told of loyalty and indomitable energy.

There was roguishness as well as manliness in that mobile face with its flattened features, and a certain cool audacity alternated with signs of sensitiveness and sparkling fun and gaiety.

Jules Enters the 1875 Paris Salon

Portrait of Simon Hayem, 1875

The Communicant, 1875

In 1875 Bastien-Lepage reappeared in the Salon with "La Communiante" and the portrait of "M. Simon Hayem," two excellent works which gave, each in its way, a new mark of his originality. The portrait of M. Hayem was best liked by men of the world.

Artists were most struck by "La Communiante." This young girl's simple awkward bearing, ill at ease in the white gloves, is a marvel of truthful painting. It is interesting, as being the first of those small, lifelike, characteristic portraits in a style at once broad and conscientious.

The Prix de Rome

I remember as if it were yesterday that July morning when the gates of the Palais des Beaux Arts were opened, and the crowd of eager inquirers rushed into the hall of the competition for the Prix de Rome. The subject chosen for 1875 was taken from the New Testament - L'Annunciation aux Bergers (The Annunciation to the Shepherds) - and Jules Bastien-Lepage had joined in.

The Annunciation to the Shepherds
Julies Bastien-Lepage, 1875

After a few minutes Bastien's picture was surrounded, and a buzz of approval arose from the groups of young people gathered round that work, so real, so strongly conceived and executed that the other nine canvases disappeared as in a mist.


The artist had understood and treated the subject in a manner utterly different from the usual style of the Academy. It was familiar and touching, like a page of the Bible. The visit of the angel had surprised the shepherds sleeping by their fire in the open air; the oldest of them was kneeling before the apparition and prostrated himself in adoration; the youngest was gazing with half-closed eyes, and his open lips and hands with fingers apart, expressed astonishment and admiration. The angel, a graceful figure with childlike almost feminine head, was showing with outstretched arm to the shepherds, Bethlehem in the distance surrounded by a miraculous halo.

Most of those who saw this work of Lepage declared that he would carry off the Prix de Rome with a high hand. Yet the jury decided otherwise. It was an older and more correct competitor who was sent to the Villa Medicis at the cost of the State.

An excerpt from a letter by Jules Bastien-Lepage after his loss of the Prix de Rome in 1875: "I learned my business in Paris, I shall not forget that, but my art I did not learn there. I should be sorry to undervalue the high qualities and the devotion of the masters who direct the school. But is is my fault if I have found in their studio the only doubts that have tormented me?"

Return to Damvillers

Bastien's Mother

 I went to join Jules Bastien-Lepage in September at Damvillers. Thanks to him, I saw with a very different feeling the town that formerly I thought so dull. Cordially and hospitably received in the house on the corner of the great square, I made the acquaintance of the father, with his calm, thoughtful face; of the grandfather, so cheerful in spite of his eighty years; of the mother, so full of life, so devoted, the best mother that one could wish for an artist. I saw what a strong and tender union existed between the members of this family whose idol and whose pride was Jules.

We set out along with one of my old friends and the painter's young brother. For a week we walked with our bags on our backs through the forest country of the Argonne, going through woods from Varennes to La Chalade and from Islettes to Beaulieu.

The weather was rainy and unpleasant enough, but we were none the less gay for that, never winking when the rain came down, visiting the glass-words, admiring the deep gorges in the forest, the solitary pools in the midst of the woods, the miles of green and misty avenues at the foot of the hills.

Jules Bastien was always the leader. When we arrived at our resting place in an evening, after a day of walking in the rain, he almost deafened us with scraps of cafe-concert songs with which his memory was stored. I seem still to hear in the dripping night that voice, clear and vibrating, now silent for ever.
     
Plans for Paintings
As we went along he told me of his plans for the future. He wanted to tell the whole story of country life in a series of large pictures: hay-making, harvest, seed-time, the lovers, the burial of a young girl. He also wanted to paint a peasant woman as Jeanne d'Arc at the moment when the idea of her divine mission is taking possession of her brain; then, a Christ in the Tomb.

Together we made a plan for publishing a series of twelve compositions: Les Mois Rustiques (The Months in the Country), for which he was to furnish the drawings and I the text.

"Les Bles Murs," 1880, at the Musee de Guezireh, France

 
From time to time we stopped at the opening of a wood or at the entrance of a village, and Jules would make a hasty sketch, little thinking that the wild and simple peasants of the Argonne would take us for Germans surreptitiously making notes of their roads and passes. At Saint Rouin, while we were looking on at a Pilgrimage, we had nearly been taken as spies. I have told this story elsewhere. The remembrance of it amused us for a long time.

The Death of Jules' Father
Jules Bastien-Lepage had scarcely been six weeks at Damvillers again when he lost his father to pulmonary congestion. Death entered the house for the first time, and it was a rude shock for a family where each loved the other so well.

"We were too young to lose such a good friend," he wrote to me, "In spite of all the courage one can muster, the void, the frightful void is so great, that one is sometimes in despair. Happily remembrance remains, and what a remembrance it is! The purest that is possible. He was goodness and self-abnegation personified. He loved us so! What is to be done? We must try to fill the void with love for those who remain and who are attached to us, always keeping in mind him who is gone, and working much to drive away the fixed idea."  

Theuriet's Portrait 

Andre Theuriet, 1878

Jules' studio was very large and simply furnished with an old divan, a few stools and a table covered with books and sketches. It was decorated only with the painter's own studies and a few hangings of Japanese material. I used to go there every morning at this time to sit for my portrait.

I used to arrive about eight o'clock to find Jules already up,but with his eyes only half awake, swallowing two raw eggs to give himself tone, as he said. He already complained of stomach trouble and lived by rule. We used to smoke a cigarette and then he began to work.

He painted with a feverish rapidity and with a certainty of hand quite astonishing. Sometimes he would stop, get up and roll a cigarette, would closely examine the face of his model and then, after five minutes of silent contemplation, he would sit down again with the vivacity of a monkey and begin to paint furiously.

The portrait, sketched in during the snows of January, was almost finished when the apricot tree began to put on its covering of white flowers in April.  

Painting "Les Foins"

"Les Foins (The Hayfield), 1877

Immediately after the opening of the Salon, Bastien packed up his baggage and fled to Damvillers to prepare for his great picture 'Les Foins (The Hayfield),' which occupied him all the summer of 1877, and of which he gave me news from time to time.  

July's news: "I shall not say much about my work. The subject is not yet sufficiently sketched in. What I can tell you that I am going to give myself up to a debauch in pearly tones: half-dry hay and flowering grasses, and this in sunshine looking like a pale yellow tissue with silver threads running through it. The clumps of trees on the banks of the stream and in the meadow will stand out strongly with a rather Japanese effect." 

15 August: "Your verses are just the picture I should like to paint. They smell of the hay and the heat of the meadow. If my hay smells as well as yours I shall be content. My young peasant is sitting with her arms apart, her face hot and red. Her fixed eyes seeing nothing. Her attitude altogether broken and weary. I think she will give the true idea of a peasant woman. Behind her, flat on his back, her companion is asleep with his hands closed. And beyond, in the meadow, in the full sun, the haymakers are beginning to work again. I have had hard work to set up my first ideas, being determined to keep simply to the true aspect of a bit of nature. Nothing of the usual willow arrangement with its branches drooping over the heads of the people to frame the scene. Nothing of that sort. My people stand out against the half-dry hay. There is a little tree in one corner of the picture to show that other trees are near, where the men are gone to rest in the shade. The whole tone of the picture will be a light grey green." 

September: "Why didn't you come, lazy fellow? You would have seen my Hay before it was finished. Lenoir, the sculptor, my neighbour liked it. The country people say it is alive. I have little more than the background to finish." 

Les Foins' was sent to the Salon in 1878.. It had a great success though it was warmly discussed. In the hall where it was placed among the pictures which surrounded it, this picture gave an extraordinary sensation of light and of the open air. It had the effect of a large open window. This picture of life in the fields, so carefully studied, so powerfully rendered, had a considerable influence on the painting of the day. From the time of this exhibition many young painters, many foreign artists especially, threw themselves with enthusiasm into the new way opening out by Bastien-Lepage, and, without intention on his part, the painter of the Meusian peasants became the head of a school.
  

Look Ma, I'm a Success!
Jules Bastien-Lepage's success, both artistic and monetary, was secure. His first care was to let his friends at Damvillers join in his good fortune. He brought them to Paris in the summer of 1879. He took his mother to a large shop and had silks for dresses spread out before her. "Show some more,' cried he, "I want Mama to choose the best!" And the poor little mother, frightened at the sight of black satin that could stand upright of itself, in vain protested that 'she would never wear that.' She was obliged to give way.

He took his grandfather through the avenues of the Bois and the principal boulevards, expecting that he would be delighted, but in this direction his zealous efforts failed utterly. The old man remained indifferent to the splendours of Parisian luxury and to the scenery in the theatres. At the opera he yawned openly, declaring that all this commotion was deafening, and he went back to Damvillers determined that they should never take him away again.

To England and Back

After his family's visit to Paris, Jules Bastien-Lepage set out for England where he painted the Prince of Wales. Decorated in the following July, he hastened to Damvillers to show his red ribbon to his friends and also to go on with the work he loved best.

His idea was to paint Jeanne in the little orchard at Domremy at the moment when she hears, for the first time, the mysterious voices sounding in her ears the call to deliver her country. To give more precision to the scene, Bastien wished to show through the branches of the tress the 'blessed saints,' whose voices encouraged the heroic shepherdess.

In this I differed from him. I maintained that he ought to suppress these fantastic apparitions, and that the expression of Jeanne's face alone should explain to the spectator the emotion caused by the hallucination to which she was a prey. I reminded him of the sleep-walking scene in Macbeth.

The doctor and the chamber woman, I said, do not see the terrible things that dilate the pupils of Lady Macbeth, but from her face and gestures they know that there is something terrible. The effect is only the greater, because after having perceived this, the imagination of the spectator increases it. Suppress your phantoms and your picture will gain in sincerity and dramatic intensity.

Painting "Jeanne d'Arc"   

"'Come," he wrote to me, about the 15th of September. '"My picture is getting on, and getting on well; all, except the voices, is sketched, and some parts are begun. I think I have found a head for my Jeanne d'Arc and everyone thinks she expresses well the resolution to set out while keeping the charming simplicity of the peasant."

Jeanne d'Arc (detail) by Bastien-Lepage

Jeanne d'Arc

Also I think the attitude is very chaste and very sweet, as it ought to be in the figure that I want to represent, but if I am to see you soon, I prefer to leave you the pleasure of surprise and of the first impression of the picture. You will judge of it better and you will be able to say better what you think of it.

Jeanne d'Arc appeared in the Salon of 1880 but did not produce all the effect that Jules expected. The picture had its enthusiastic admirers, but also passionate detractors. The critics attacked first the want of air and of perspective; then, as I had foreseen, the voices represented by three symbolical personages, too slightly indicated to be understood, and yet too precise for apparitions. But the public did not do justice to the admirable figure of Jeanne.

The rapid and brilliant success of the young master had ruffled the amour propre of many. They made him pay for these precocious smiles of glory by undervaluing his new work. He had hoped that the medal of honour would be given to his Jeanne d'Arc. This distinction was given to an artist of talent, but whose work had neither the originality nor the qualities of execution, nor the importance of Bastien's picture. He felt this injustice strongly and went to London. There the reception and appreciation of English artists and amateurs consoled him a little for this mortification.

 
An Unfinished Work

His stay in London and the reading of Shakespeare had inspired him with the idea of painting one of the heroines of the great poet, and in 1881 he went back to Damvillers full of a project for painting the Death of Ophelia."

The unfinished painting

In a letter on August, 1881, he wrote, "I have begun and already advanced a large picture of Ophelia. I think it will be well to do something as a contrast to my Mendicant (Beggar). It is to be a really touching Ophelia, as heartrending as if one actually saw her.

The poor distracted girl no longer knows what she is doing, but her face shows traces of sorrow and of madness. She is close to the edge of the water leaning against a willow; upon her lips, the smile left by her last song; in her eyes, tears! Supported only by a branch, she is slipping unawares. The stream is quite close to her. In a moment she will be in it.

She is dressed in a little greenish blue bodice and a white skirt with large folds; her pockets are full of flowers and behind her is a riverside landscape. One bank under trees with tall flowering grasses and thousands of hemlock flowers, like stars in the sky; and in the higher part of the picture, a wooded slope, and the evening sun shining through birches and hazel bushes. That is the scene.

This picture was never finished. The landscape and flowers were rendered as the artist wished, but the face and the costume of Ophelia recalled his Jeanne d'Arc too much. Bastien-Lepage no doubt saw this, and for this reason put the picture on one side to return to his peasants.  

 

The Diner de l'Est
We [Jules Bastien-Lepage and Andre Theuriet] were both members and even founders of an Alsace-Lorraine dinner, the Diner de l'Est, which was always given in summer in the country. One of the last meetings at which he was present, took place a the end of May, 1881.

A boat had been engaged, which was to take the diners to the bridge at Suresnes, and to bring them back at night. When we arrived at the landing stage, a blind man was standing by the footbridge, attended by a young girl, who held out her sebilla to the passers-by. 

"Come, gentlemen! all of you, put your hands in your pockets!" gaily commanded Bastien, and he passed over first, preaching by example. And the eighty or a hundred guests of the Diner de l'Est passed one after another over the footbridge, each one leaving in the child's sebilla [a wooden receptacle] a coin, large or small." 

"The Mendicant"

When we were on the deck, Bastien turned round to look at the blind man and his girl, who were amazed at this unexpected windfall and were slowly counting their money. "What a lovely group," he said to me. "How I should like to paint that child!"

 Painting "L'Amour au Village"
Muffled in a warm jacket and a travelling cloak that covered him [Jules Bastien-Lepage] down to the feet, he made his models pose for him in the piercing days of February, in the little garden where he had already painted the portrait of his grandfather.

In March the work was well advanced and he invited me to go and see it at Damvillers before it was sent to the Salon. Our hosts were awaiting us on the doorstep. Around them Basse the spaniel and Golo and Barbeau were bounding and barking joyfully to give us a welcome. The next morning, early, we went up to the studio to see L'Amour au Village," which was to go to Paris that day.

"L'Amour au Village"

The subject of this picture is well known. The daylight is waning. At the gate of a village garden a lad of twenty, who has been binding sheaves and still wears his leggings of leather, is talking with a young girl. What he is saying may be guessed from his awkward manner twisting his stiff fingers and also from the attentive but embarrassed air of the young girl. There is in this picture a true and manly poetry, which is stengthening and refreshing, like the odour of ripe corn."

Bastien was glad to have completed this difficult work, and his satisfaction enable him to bear with cheerfulness the pains in his loins and the digestive troubles which were becoming more and more frequent.

Last Days
And now we sadly cross the threshold of Jules Bastien-Lepage's final time on earth. The slow decline is recorded in his letters, such as "This is to let you know that I am not a stay-at-home, as you might think. I find it important to walk a good deal, for in this way I regain a little health. My stomach was beginning to get wrong, but it is better!" But a mutual friend told Andre Theuriet, "Our poor Bastien is very ill. They think it is hopeless."

In the midst of all this, the Arabs, of astonishing calmness and splendid carriage, under their earth-coloured and ash-coloured draperies. They all wear a shirt and burnous, not one is like another. It seems as if each one gave expression to his thought by his manner of draping his garment.

It is once more the triumph of blank truth over arrangement and conventionalism. The sorrowful man, whether he wishes it or not, in spite of himself is not draped like the gay. Beauty, I am convinced, is exact truth; neither to the right nor to the left, but in the middle.

"Moonrise in Algiers"

 The improvement he [Jules Bastien-Lepage] had experienced on arriving in Algiers ceased about the end of April. His strength and his appetite gradually failed, and at the end of May it was decided to take the invalid back to France. He settled again in the Rue Legendre with the poor little mother, who never left him afterwards. When I saw him again I was shocked at the progress the disease had made. His thinness was such that my unhappy friend was nowhere in the garments that were made for his journey. His legs refused their service; he could no longer work.

For months this cruel agony was prolonged. On the 9th of December during a great part of the night, he talked of Damvillers with his mother and his brother. Then at about four in the morning he said to them with a kiss, "Come, it is time for children to sleep." Two hours later asked for something to drink, then shortly afterwards slid gently from sleep into death. He expired at six in the evening, December 10, 1884.

On the 12th of December a long train of friends and admirers accompanied his remains to the Eastern Railway Station. The next day, Sunday, the whole population of Damvillers waited at the entrance of the town for the funeral carriage. The sad procession advanced slowly on that road where the painter had loved to walk with his friends. A pale mist blotted out those hills and woods whose familiar outlines he had so often reproduced.

The cortege stopped before the little church where he had intended painting his "Burial of a Young Girl." The morning was showery. The wreaths and festoons of flowers were helped up upon the grave where they seemed to come to life again, and to send out with their renewed perfume a last adieu from Paris to the painter of the peasants of the Meuse.          

Bastien's Grave in Damvillers. Statue by Rodin.

 
*The above is excerpted from Andre Theuriet's biography, "Jules Bastien-Lepage and His Art. A Memoir." The entire book is free and online for the reading at https://archive.org/details/julesbastienlepa00theu

** There are several videos showing Bastien's work. Here is one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPAUmkI0xcQ

The $5 Monet

Claude Monet, Morning on the Seine, Good Weather, 1897
The White House Historical Association (White House Collection)

Before I go back to painting this afternoon, I want to tell you about an unexpected encounter with Monet while grocery shopping. Standing in front of the peppers, I ran into a friend who asked me if I had heard of the Monet that had been located in Lockland, Ohio, just a hop, skip and jump from our house. "What in the world was a Monet doing there?!" I asked...and so he sent me a copy of the story as he wrote it for the Wyoming [Ohio] Historical Society:

 

"An exquisite landscape painting by French Impressionist Claude Monet graces the First Family's living quarters on the second floor of the White House. This painting was shown some time ago when Public Broadcasting System )PBS) presented a tour of the White House, hosted by Laura Bush. The former First Lady paused briefly in front of the painting and mentioned it was her personal favorite, adding that it was left by the Kennedy family as their gift to the White House presidential collection, in keeping with long-standing tradition. Unfortunately for most, a private collection eliminates any public viewing and only those invited to the White House by the First Family would be privileged to see and enjoy this fine work.

However, in the early 1950's, long before the painting gained national acclaim and was given a permanent home in Washington, it hung on the wall of a modest studio apartment not far from the Lockland Post Office on Anna Street. Yes, there it was at Wally Kloth's residence, part of the Valley Swim Pool, popularly known as Phillips, just waiting to be discovered since the artist's signature was not distinguishable and no one was aware of its importance, including Wally Kloth. During the time it was in Lockland, the painting was considered an ordinary wall hanging and therefore placed in an open and informal setting - maybe too much so.

For example, when a sudden thunderstorm would end the afternoon fun at the pool, Wally thought nothing of allowing disappointed swimmers the use of his apartment phone to place calls for a ride home. Meanwhile, to escape the cold rain, shivering little wet imprs with blue lips and reeking of cholrine, would slip into the room where calls were being made - pushing, pulling, hiding, giggling and shapping towels. It was bedlam, pure bedlam, until the little stinkers were shooed out. Wonder of wonders, not once did the Monet take a direct hit or suffer collateral damage during these raids.

For a while the painting drew precious little attention from anyone, until Glenn Randall, a young lifeguard, who had lived on Fleming Road, then later on Wyoming Avenue, told Wally that he liked the picture and wondered if he would consider selling it. Wally's reply was a quick, "Sure, for a fin." Glenn, not familiar with the word fin, asked his father what it meant that evening. He returned the next morning and purchased the now-famous landscape painting by Monet for five dollars.

Years later in 1956, when Glenn graduated from Ohio University and married his college sweetheart, he realized the full market value of what he owned and traded it for his first house. After the painting was carefully restored to its original splendor, the value increased dramatically, and the art world took notice. So did the John F. Kennedy family, who bought it and then gifted it, as you know, to the White House upon their departure." ~ Glenn Lewis

You may see this painting in its location at the White House here: http://artseverydayliving.com/blog/2011/11/white-house-art/

Who would ever have thought that buying groceries today would have led to this fascinating story!

 

 

Cecilia Beaux Studies with Charles "Shorty" Lasar

While looking at the life of Cecilia Beaux, the name of one of her teachers makes a brief appearance - that of Charles "Shorty" Lasar. Not having heard of him till now, I wanted to do a little exploring and found some very interesting things written about both Cecilia Beaux' early studies abroad and about Shorty who was an American transplant in France:

"Her initial experiences with Bouguereau and the Académie Julian spurred Cecilia to continue investigating other ateliers for women. Concerned that her cousin May was not getting "enough criticism at Julian's," it was decided that at the end of the month that "she had better go to [the] Lasar" studio. Her uncle had written to her about him:

"Lasar's portrait of Mrs. Boyle is the best in the [Pennsylvania Academy] Exhibition this year. It is a first class work, 3/4 length, life size. Col. Cooper knows Lasar well, says he is about 32, came from St. Louis, began there as a lithographer, has been in Paris and thereabouts 7 or 8 years, worked hard at the "Beaux Arts" and started this class which is only 1 year old and wonderfully successful. Cooper says that Lasar has unusual talent as a teacher as well as painter -- in fact he considers him by far the ablest teacher and critic he ever met among men who can paint well and strongly themselves."

Born in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, in 1856, Charles "Shorty" Lasar's experiences had been varied - from blacksmithing to lithography, and he had come to Paris with a modest purse determined to take up the study of art. He enrolled himself in the class of Gerome in the Ecole des Beaux Arts, and was assigned to the antique room. For the sake of economy he used both sides of his Michelet paper in making his charcoal drawings, and these were entirely unlike the drawings of the other men. At first Gerome regarded him with amused suspicion, but suspicion soon changed to intense interest, and Lasar was sent to the life class. Before long Shorty's criticisms were almost as eagerly sought as were those of the master. There his superior drawing ability and his "famous angle machine" made him something of a legend. At night he studied the history of art and costumes, he made compositions and was ever searching for the reason of successful pictures in the galleries and exhibitions. There never seemed to be a moment when the subject of art was out of his mind.

"Trees by the River" by Charles "Shorty" Lasar

He soon became a popular teacher, establishing an art school in the Montparnasse colony in Paris. His sense of humor, his inventive and mechanical solutions to creative problems, his theories of art, and his entrepreneurial sense in marketing his aids for the study of art, all drew a number of American students, particularly women. 

Lasar, in fact, was one of the few Parisian art teachers to offer theories of art to women, teaching them that each painting should be different, suggesting its own style. His book Practical Hints to Art Students (1910) set forth his theories and ideas. He was, however, a born teacher, and many successful canvases were due to his advice. He practised great frugality and continued to stay in the Quarter. Students came and departed, but 'Shorty' remained. He had no home ties. Finally some young women urged him to organise a class. He did so and was immediately successful, leaving Paris every summer with thirty or forty women pupils. One of his earlier students was Cecilia Beaux.

Beaux had a "most comical" first impression of Lasar, noting that he was "a funny little young man with intensely bright eyes, and dark hair standing around -- and legs about two feet long. [And he] talks rather bad American, with no end of French excitement and gesticulation." She soon learned that, artistically, he was "more modern and less academical...teaches values and colors more than anything else, is very scientific and particularly good for outdoor work."

Indeed she studied under his tutelage in Concarneau that summer with his dear friend and fellow artist Alexander Harrison also critiquing her work - and even asking her for her critical input on his work. They complimented and encouraged her enthusiastically. "Harrison told her that she had the "right stuff" to become a painter, "the stuff that digs and thinks and will not be satisfied and is never weary of the effort of painting nor counts the cost. Even among the men here there is hardly one who does this." Lasar remarked that she approached her painting in "the right way, that is as a man would do it -- and that's the biggest compliment I can pay you." Both men encouraged Beaux's talent, endorsed her professional commitment, and told her to stay in Europe "one more winter -- to clinch it." This was enough to make her make a commitment to a professional art career and to paint something for the Paris Salon the following year.






*information gathered from "Out of the Background: Cecilia Beaux and the Art of Portraiture" by Tara Leigh Tappert:" http://www.tfaoi.com/aa/9aa/9aa215.htm



 

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

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.  

"West Rock, New Haven, 1849" by Frederic Edwin Church

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. 
 

Murals at Église Saint Romuald, 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.

"Burial at Ornans" by Gustave Courbet

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.

"Peasant Boy" by Wilhelm Leibl

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. 
His work created a sensation, and he was acclaimed by critics and public alike. One art critic, Henry James, wrote:

"Whistling Boy" by Frank Duveneck

"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.

* written by Linda Crank seeking recognition from the National Registry - and happily obtaining it - for the Duveneck House in Covington, Kentucky. Quotes here were taken from the following sources:
Hermann, Norbert, Frank Duveneck 

Cape Ann Museum website: http://www.capeannmuseum.org/collections/artists/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