In the 1920’s Edward Hopper was working part time as an illustrator for the Hotel Management industry. He hated the job since he thought of himself as a fine artist, but he needed the money. To get away from the illustrator’s grind he traveled to Europe three times in that decade.
A generation of writers and artists woke up after the horrible butchery of the “Great War” to realize that the old war-honoring culture of their forefathers had to be thrown out, the whole corseted, velvety, tasseled, lacy, medallioned, epauletted, pious-pompous thing. The new generation invented new ways of seeing and thinking.
During his trips to Europe Hopper stayed mainly in Paris. Ah, Paris in the 20’s! The city was buzzing with Cubism and Surrealism. Recently starving artists were now being shown in major galleries: Picasso, Modigliani, Gris, Leger and Brancusi, to name a few. When you went out for coffee you might spot James Joyce, André Breton or Hemingway at the next table. So much to see and learn!
Edward Hopper wanted none of it. His indifference to new ideas was so thorough that, as he later recalled, he hadn’t even heard of Picasso then.
What about the roar of the roaring 20’s. Would he have buttoned his spats and stepped out one night to catch Josephine Baker showing off her knees in the Charleston? Unlikely.
But we know he took the train to Amsterdam where he admired Rembrandt’s paintings.
Did he ever hop a train to, say, Berlin to visit museums and galleries there? He might have been interested in German museums. But galleries in wild, experimental Berlin showing modern art?
No chance of that. But let’s imagine he did. Next.
All contents copyright (C) 2010 Katherine Hilden. All rights reserved.
artamaze by Katherine Hilden 