It's not a secret among antique dealers that folks in the American South have a better appreciation for American Decorative Arts. I suppose to some extent this may extend to American paintings. I haven't noticed a tour of American Art before 1880 being offered at the nearby Brooklyn Museum. Although there have been tours of the Dutch houses in the museum, I haven't noticed a tour being offered of the 19th Century Period Rooms.

Now there's some speculation that Alice Walton, already the possessor of Durand's Kindred Spirits, has bought two paintings from the collection of the National Academy. On an emotional level, it's sad to see them leave New York. From a practical point of view, I'd say a painting on display in Arkansas is better than one stored in New York.

I hope that a new administration will help bring some renewed pride in America and interest in objects and paintings from the first century of our existence. We need the likes of Alice Walton, like Ford, Rockefeller, Hogg and DuPont before her, to breath new life and interest to American Art and Decorative Arts. I hate seeing our great collections of American Art overlooked. Nature hates a vacuum and the vacuum that New York creates, Arkansas fills.

The trip to Montclair Art Museum was quite smooth. There is no commuter train running on the weekends, but Decamp bus runs every hour from Port Authority, Manhattan to Montclair, NJ. It only took about 40 minutes by bus to get to the museum, which is situated almost at the top of a hill, with a view of Manhattan. Down the hill, we found a Turkish restaurant (quite upscale), a WholeFood store and a few antique stores further down which unfortunately did not seem to open on Sunday.

Montclair Art Museum is not as big as Newark Museum, but it dedicates a full room to George Inness who spent his last decade in the town. Like all other townships near NYC, Montclair has lost its rural beauty that Inness favored in his paintings; but it is surprising that there is such a wonderful museum filled with some best American art.

Besides the Inness room, I was quite impressed by two paintings. Early Morning in Cold Spring, a painting by Asher Brown Durand shows a perfect balance between naturalism and romanticism. The fact that I just visited Cold Spring, NY a few weeks ago made the painting more personal to me. There is always a sense of freshness in Durand's painting: The nature, depicted truthful but poetic, exists in harmony with minds of intellectual. In this painting, Durand was inspired by a William Cullen Byant's poem:

And o'er the clear still water swells
The music of the Sabbath bells

The other painting is a little gem by Edward M. Bannister, an African-American painter from Rhode Island who founded Rhode Island School of Design. Passing Storm is a vivid demonstration that by the late 19th century Barbizon has been transformed into a unique style that can almost be coined as American-born tonalism. Like Inness, Bannister said "artists become an interpreter of the infinite, subtle qualities of the spiritual ideals of nature... revealing glimpses of absolute harmony." There are not as much details as are almost everywhere in Cropsey's painting next to it, but I was immediately drawn to the overall effect: the untamed nature revealing its austere beauty: It is easy to understand that now I appreciate the brownish soil under still-looming sky more when working in a place that almost every inches of earth is covered by concrete and every feet of sky is blocked by skySCRAPErs.

Philip Pearlstein's exhibition "Objectification" takes almost half of the first floor exhibition space. The figure paintings demonstrate a sense of objectivity with cut-off faces, obtruded features. He treated the human body with the same degree of coolness as other objects from his collections that were painted with the bodies. They are marvelous in the techniques but to see Pearlstein after Inness (that's how the exhibition rooms are arranged) is like to read a math dissertation after reading essays by Heinrich Heine. From the short video, Eric commented the way Pearlstein works on his paintings is almost the opposite to how Inness created his own imagination on the canvas.

Before we left, Eric asked how often the museum rotates the paintings by Inness since at least half of the collection are not on display. Unfortunately, we were told the rotation has not been done quite often. Maybe in the curator's point of view, the nine paintings in that room give the audience a complete image of Inness' style in different periods and of course his association with the town when at his peak power. We will probably go back in the near future on a Saturday when those antique stores may open. And after all, "Christmas Evening" by George Inness is Eric's favorite painting!

Like artist William Merritt Chase during his life, I have often enjoyed the beauty of Prospect Park in Brooklyn. In the days before the park was developed, city dwellers (living ones) might have found retreat in nearby Green-Wood Cemetery. Founded in 1838, this "park" for the dead was often enjoyed by the living.

I had known Chase painted scenes in Prospect Park. What I didn't know on my first trip to the cemetery was that Chase was buried there. In fact, he is one of a number of artists for whom Green-Wood is a final resting place.

The map you can pick up in the gatehouse lists several of these artists including Louis Comfort Tiffany and John LaFarge, both known for their stained-glass, as well as Jean-Michael Basquiat. I had also known cabinet-maker Duncan Phyfe was buried there and made a point to find that spot (I wondered if he might be laid on a lyre sofa inside). [Update 11-09-08. Yesterday I learned Joseph Meeks is also there].

On further inspection the list grew. Both Thomas and William Hart, New York landscape painters, are in Green-Wood; as are Currier and Ives. While Asher B. Durand's most famous work may be on its way to Arkansas, his grave is in Green-Wood. The painter of urban life, George Bellows is there along with John Frederick Kensett, a luminist painter and founder and trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The list goes on... Eastman Johnson, Thomas Crawford, Violet Oakley, George Catlin, William Holbrook Beard, Edwin Forbes, I suspect there are more. And this doesn't touch poets, architects, singers, musicians or actors.

Some might think it morbid to visit a cemetary. Yet these resting places are filled with art and sculpture, both in the monuments and the landscape. Green-Wood Cemetery in particular is also apparently filled with artists. I can understand why they might have thought this was a good place to spend eternity.

The visit to the Newark Museum was really a delight and surprise. I was amazed by the extensive American Art collection, and decorative arts in particular the Ballantine House. I would definitely visit it again, probably very soon in the near future since it will feature a special exhibition of American Impressionism this month.

The current exhibition: The Small but Sublime: Intimate Views by Durand, Bierdstadt and Inness features a two-room of small or medium sized American landscape paintings. Grouping paintings by their sizes is not a common curatorial perspective for exhibitions.

American landscape paintings were not born with intimate scale. Like the new nation’s ambition and its abundant wildness, six or eight feet canvases are a trademark of Hudson River School paintings. From the past auction observation, Bierdstadt or Cropsey quite often used small canvases for sketches. (One example can be seen from Shuptrine Fine Art.)

In the Brooklyn Museum, A Storm in the Rocky Mountain by Bierdstadt is the center piece in the landscape room. It does have the jaw-dropping "wow" effect, but as Barbara Novak has written in her book “Nature and Culture: American Landscape and Painting 1825-1875”, it creates the simultaneous intimacy and distancing at the same time. My experience tends to be more on the distancing side. The grand panorama with balance, beauty and vibrancy are taken from a God point of view. The painters behind the canvases, thus become the messengers of the God or to some extent God himself, that remove the possible immediacy of communication with humble visitors.

But when Hudson River School painters came to sketches, they were looser and more painterly-minded. In Bierdstadt’s medium sized forest painting in the exhibition, the brush strokes and the application of paints are visible. (One would seldom notice execution-wise techniques when in front of a six-foot painting because there are so much excitement to explore!) Bierdstadt’s forest scene is humanized with a couple (barely entering the scene) and an almost unrecognizable deer. The trees are painted with such extraordinary efficiency that they are shown both suggestively in the sense of volume and minute green-scale and in needed detail to differentiate the front layer from the back.

After the Civil War, canvases scaled down, partly because paintings had become integrated with home decoration and partly because the taste began to favor a more intimate and romantic style. George Inness’ sunset painting reminds me of Fuji Velva film, a special color pallet with muted orange, green and red, which is more a nostalgia recalling of rare gold moments of nature in one’s mind than a candid capture of strong colors subdued by northeast mist.

My surprise came from two paintings in the exhibition. One is from DeWitt Clinton Boutelle. His meticulous rendering of a water fall is filled with mystery and wonder, probably nothing is more appropriately descriptive than J. R. R. Tolkein’s poems about Lothlórien, a dream elfland from Lord of the Rings. Though it is only a little bit bigger than a regular 8x11 paper, it is so inviting that my eyes were drawn into the water that owns both wetness and coolness in such a retreat.

The other surprise came from the only female painter presented in this exhibition – Mary Moran. The small painting on board does not capture natural New Jersey; instead it focuses on the urbanization. The city skyline, with the bright white building under the sun and black soot and smoke from the chimneys is placed in the center of the plein air painting. The foreground is still marshy and untainted by human nature except probably serving Mary as her stand point. But the light effect was very much like her husband Thomas Moran, a dramatic sky mixed with cloud phenomenon, sharp edges of definite light gradually transitions into soft fading that unifies different colors. The remote city, though brightly lit, loses its detail in the misty white.

Was that what Mary saw or what she romanticized? Different viewers may have different opinions about what it meant for a landscape painting that speaks about the city. But I found it intriguing. Along the NJ transit railroad, the marsh wetland of New Jersey is still like what was depicted in the painting, except now the iconic mid and lower Manhattan skylines cast a strong contrast in between sky and lowland. The charms of city living approach the greatest when the mystery around it has not fully resolved; but the completeness of such a living depends on the experienced contrast that would not be fulfilled without living on modestly quiet countryside.

If you've been to the Carnegie Museum of Art recently, you may have noticed some new items in the galleries. Among these is a painting by Asher B. Durand. This kind of landscape painting may be out of fashion, but the thing about Hudson River Paintings, you know a good one as soon as you see it. You also are greeted with an immediate sense of confidence the United States (or artists) hasn't known for some time. Few painters since have been this sure of themselves and the world or celebrated it with such clarity. At the time of creation, the United States was far from being a world power, hadn't known the civil war and could focus all of her energy on building the nation. Unfortunately this meant cutting down the trees and a changing landscape that made scenes like this one fade like passing frames in a film. Hudson River painters like Durand would celebrate nature, humans in nature, and the natural wildness as a feature which distinguished our continent from that of Europe.

...and there's still a week or so to make the trip to Washington DC to see Kindred Spirits: Asher B. Durand and the American Landscape More new items at the Carnegie