“Some people have been kind enough to call me a fine artist. I’ve always called myself an illustrator. I’m not sure what the difference is. All I know is that whatever type of work I do, I try to give it my very best. Art has been my life.”
— Norman Rockwell
Since I was a kid, I had a thing for Norman Rockwell. (Norman Rockwell and Maxfield Parrish were two artists who transported me, which gives you some idea of my split personality.) I had a HUGE book of all of Rockwell’s paintings when I was little and sadly, I have no idea where it is now. But I used to just spend hours and hours flipping through it … There was something about his paintings that … not just called to me … but opened up worlds in my head. Little newsreel movies started playing, I could hear the voices, the clatter of spoons on the counter, the jukebox playing, the radio playing … These were not just paintings, they were worlds to step into. Three-dimensional worlds. As hypnotic as a really good movie, where you literally forget that time is passing, and you forget where you are.
I related to his people, I felt that the artist related to me personally – and not just that, not just a comfortable reflection of my own world – but he made me think. He opened my eyes. He made me SEE things in a certain way. He was not painting MY time, a childhood in the bedraggled 1970s. He was painting an earlier time. But I saw the same things. Crushes on boys at school. Parents annoyed with you. Having fun in snow drifts. Additionally, by showing me that earlier time, I learned. I learned about milk bottles being left at the door, and about jalopy cars, and about little kids going barefoot at the fishing hole. More serious, in that one painting of the little black girl going to school for the first day in an integrated school, a little girl I related to, with her neat school outfit, and her brand spanking new school supplies – he showed me a wider world, and he did it in such a way without being too didactic. He just showed moments. A sweet little girl in a white dress being escorted to school by giant suited men, with tomatoes smeared on the wall. I somehow understood, age 7, 8, that those tomatoes had been thrown at her. I felt very very solemn staring at that picture, of a little girl my own age, who had gone through something I couldn’t even imagine. But he helped me to imagine it.
“The commonplaces of America are to me the richest subjects in art. Boys batting flies on vacant lots; little girls playing jacks on the front steps; old men plodding home at twilight-all thse things arouse feeling in me.”
— Norman Rockwell
“No man with a conscience can just bat out illustrations. He’s got to put all his talent and feeling into them!”
— Norman Rockwell
(That’s called “The Marriage License”. For some reason, even as a youngun, this painting just CALLED to me. I loved her yellow heels, and how she was up on tiptoe. I loved the husband-to-be’s protective arm around her. I loved the dark mahogany background … To me, it just told an entire story. Look at the clerk’s face. He’s seen it all. I loved it.)
“Dignity is not a good expression – not for my pictures anyway.”
— Norman Rockwell
“Some folks think I painted Lincoln from life, but I haven’t been around that long. Not quite.”
— Norman Rockwell
I loved loved LOVED his two “Day in the Life” paintings. Day in the Life of a little boy and a little girl. I was totally INTO them, kept going back to them.
“Commonplaces never become tiresome. It is we who become tired when we cease to be curious and appreciative.”
— Norman Rockwell
For some reason, the painting below always killed me – even as a young girl. There was just something about it. The details, the specifics, the father’s hands, his posture, that TRUCK …
Then there is this I mentioned before – with the chilly title: “The Problem We All Live With”.
We see the tomatoes that have been thrown, the horrible word on the wall – but the violence has just passed. We don’t see her in the moment of the splattering tomatoes – we see her walking through calmly, moments afterwards. The little girl in the white dress – floating like an angel through the ugliness of the world that hates her. Indeed, such bigotry is a “problem we all live with” still.
And lastly – this has to be my favorite Norman Rockwell of all time. Each person tells a story, the shy girl in the alley, waiting to be noticed, the little brother literally flying down the stairs, but it’s the mother who kills me every time. Her fierce ferocious transcendent joy at the sight of her son again.
Here it is: “Homecoming G.I.”
Arthur C. Danto said, of the 40 years of Saturday Evening Post covers painted by Norman Rockwell:
“The Rockwell [magazine] cover was more a part of the American reality than a record of it.”
Happy birthday – to an American treasure!!
For a great post on Rockwell’s career as an illustrator – please go here (one of my favorite blogs ever)!!
Rockwell had a way of portraying common people, in uncommon moments. Some of the moments were not earth-shattering (getting ready to go to the prom – although that is certainly earth-shattering to the teens in question), and others more so. His “four freedoms” series is a perfect example of how he chose to portray each of these freedoms – not by going abstract, or too big, but by capturing the essence of it, in a way that deeply resonates for those of us who love these things too.
The faces! Just look at all of those faces.
The Rockwell museum in western MA had a fabulous exhibit of all his covers – not sure if it’s still there though. I haven’t been to the National Museum of American Illustration in Newport yet, but would like to. I love Pyle, Wyeth and others, maybe because they tended to illustrate the kind of books I dig.
I have always been drawn to Norman Rockwell’s paintings, too. I remember we had quite a few large puzzles of his illustrations – one was the father and the son and the truck you have above, and I can’t remember which one the other one was because ALL of them are so familiar to me. I think we had a big book of Rockwell illustrations, too, now that I’m standing here trying to remember all this…wonder where that ended up. Everything you wrote had me nodding in agreement. Funnily enough, our accountant’s office is filled with Rockwell prints. I always look forward to having our taxes done, just so I can hang out and look at them all.
I only learned to appreciate Rockwell later in life. As a kid, I assumed he was just trying to sell us on the existence of a fake, fairytale America. Eventually I realized there was a lot more to him, in terms of both talent and intent. He is an American treasure.
When I was up at the Berkshire Theatre Festival this summer, I went to the museum. Sheila, you would LOVE it. Yes, they still have a room with all of the covers. And “The Problem We All Live With” is there and it is huge. Amazing work. You must go! They have his studio as well. Very inspiring place. I am struck with that Freedom of Speech painting and how everyone in it is so respectful of the man speaking — they might not agree, but they are listening and allowing him the floor. The Four Freedoms paintings are all there and they are terrific. And you can see photographs and studies of so many of the people in the paintings. Some of the children in the paintings are now docents at the museum. Great place.
Kerry – I went years and years ago, I think I was in college – but I haven’t been since. I remember loving it. There’s something about his paintings for me, as I imagine is true for a lot of us: I have memorized them. I know every detail. It’s like a book I’ve read 5 or 6 times and remember certain phrases. It’s just magical to me.
When my friend Kate was doing My Fair Lady at the McCarter Theater, I went to go see her and stayed at the Nassau Inn in Princeton – with its storied Revolutionary era past, I just loved being there – and best part is is that behind the bar is Rockwell’s Yankee Doodle Dandy mural, the original. So neat to see.
And I totally agree with the Freedom of Speech observation. It’s a town meeting and it is this man’s “turn”, so he has the floor. The little old guy looking up at him kills me, and makes me very proud of the democratic process. Rockwell had a way of capturing what the freedoms were REALLY about – at least in his mind. Like the Freedom From Fear – I mean, how amazing is that image, how quiet and somber – fear is everywhere – He didn’t do a painting of, say, kids running in the grass laughing in the sunlight. That would be treacly and schmaltzy because we all know that there ARE things to be afraid of. By showing the child asleep, with the father looking down, holding the scary newspaper in his hand – it calls to mind protective parental impulses (how can i shield this small innocent creature) – and you can just feel the weight of the world on that man’s shoulders. It’s a perfect image, I think – shows how deeply Rockwell thought about these things. Like a storyteller. There’s some irony in the painting, some darkness – because that’s the way of the world. But there’s still a sense that we SHOULD be protected and live without fear … I don’t know, he just has it all in that painting.
That is exactly it — he is a storyteller. So much conveyed in one image. Very powerful stuff. So much emotion in it.