Among all the paintings representing American Barbizon and Tonalism paintings in the ongoing "Path to Impressionism" exhibition at Newark Art Museum, Bruce Crane's "A November Scene" is the one which speaks to me the most.

Everything in the picture is subdued: color, form and subject. The scene is not beautiful itself, but evocative, with a smell of decaying leaves over the chilled water. It is a scene of the last days of New England autumn, which although I have never experienced, I feel associated with the spare air in the Western Pennsylvania where I had been living for the past 6 years.

It was not barbaric as some depicted by Enneking, since there are human traces such as wood piles, deserted and almost ineligible, in the middle ground or a stone wall, which visually and possibly physically blend into the brownish yellowish surrounding. Nature, once gain, took over where once habituated by early New England settlers.

The hushed scenery is less idyllic than what it looks like on the surface. The painting was painted in 1895, at the height of the Gilded Age. Between 1865 to 1905, while the population in rural area increased little, the population in metro areas increased 20 times. In particular, New England was proved to be too rugged to be farmed and thus became uninhabited in its rural area. In fact, New England, for a while, became the factory for clothing and shoes manufacturing. Gone with the rural habitation was the simple and self-reliant Protestant life style and moral virtues.

Ironically, if Bruce Crane intended to use the solitude of the nature itself to prove it was the industrialization that deprived human to get embraced by the natural beauty, the robber Barons, who praised and advocated his works, didn't think so. Among them, George Hearn made a fortune from dry good retails. William Evans was the president for the Mills & Gibb firm. while Henry Chapman was the prominent banker and stockbroker from Brooklyn. For them, the economic brushwork by Crane recalls repose and tranquility that they would associated before industrialization. The suggestive mood and ethereal atmosphere were perfect for recollection and recount of the past.

A close examination shows that Crane used impasto and glazing to great extent. Crane first placed a thin layer of paint for the background (the remote trees are almost formless). Then he built up the painting by brushed or dotted thick layers of paints within limited range and hues. The surface of the canvas at the foreground is as rugged as the landscape itself. The brown glazing, seemingly randomly disposed, gives a harmonious yet subtle veil to the scenery. It is true that not painting from the plein-air but from the memory gave Crane freedom to manipulate the painting based on his will, but it is his determination and imaginative power that gave a could-be-depressive scene romantic and poetic rendering.

I stood there long and felt I was dissolved in the field. The soil is infertile, the field rocky, the weather freezing. Yet the sentimental pastoral beauty arouse strong heartbeats for those who had lived it and lost it. Almost, I think, everyone has it in his heart: somber yet bitter-sweet, a spiritual New England forgone.

The past weekend, Freeman's auctioneered around 170 paintings in its Fine American and European Paintings auction. The number of unsold items is close to 70, which exceeds one third of the total lots. Even worse, quite a few sold items were below the low estimates.

European portraiture didn't sell or didn't sell that much, neither French Barbizon paintings. Adolphe Monticelli's "Figures in an interior" was my favorite. Montecelli is painters' painter. I didn't get to know him until recently when I did some research on the Barbizon school. His paintings may lack the first-sight charm, but his genius is shone through his highly individual artistic style: His brilliant dashed brush strokes have dazzling effects that can only be rivaled by some post-impressionism works. Yet his colors are of the same vein of French Barbizon paintings like Diaz or Rousseau: rich, warm and highly glazed. The subject of the painting offered by Freeman's featured a group of figures dressed elegantly in the rural settings, a reminiscent of Antoine Watteau.

A few American paintings went high. The portrait of Milton by Eastman Johnson, although small and more toward sketchy side based on Eastman John's style, will be included in the forthcoming raisonne, went higher than expected. I just visited Morgan Library last Friday and visited their current exhibition "John Milton’s Paradise Lost". With his head leaning backward against red wall and half buried in darkness, the 17th century poet had a Victorian romantic appeal. The high price for the painting by John La Farge contrasted sharply with a deer study by Bierstadt which didn't reach the reserved price. This seem to confirm what I perceive of the current art and antiques market: buyers are more focused and only the best represented works can sell well.

It didn't surprise to see another pine trees in sunset painting by Charles Warren Eaton went high in the auction. Among all American tonalism painters, Eaton's market demand has increased so dramatically that the price has doubled or tripled during the past few years. I remember the first time I saw his painting was in Akron Art Museum, which has a great collection of American tonalism and Impressionism paintings. The pine trees, standing together against the darkening sky, thin-trunked yet thick capped, for the first time brought up the spiritual side of the nature into my mind.

Unlike other tonalism painters such as John Francis Murphy or Dwight Tryon (whose works can also be found in Akron Museum), Eaton was not totally obsessed with the decaying and deserted New England farms. Even in his sunset paintings, the pine trees, with their elongated upward gesture, are morally uplifting. Thus his paintings are more likely to fit in modern trendy setting.

No word than the nature dreamer can better describe Blakelock, whose poetic paintings are now exhibited in National Academy. “The Unknown Blakelock” brings some of the key works of Ralph Albert Blakelock from the museums and collectors of the country into the National Academy.

The three moonlight paintings, one of the two major subjects that associated with him, were hung side by side in the gallery. The silhouetted massive trees, the greenish bluish sky, and the high-keyed moon of heavily impasto vividly display mysterious scenery which is at once intimate, personal yet surreal. It is almost monochrome. Its two dimensional graphic pattern was laid down on super rugged surface: the texture itself provides an additional layer of viewing: abstract, accidental yet fascinating like a magic spell.

The scales of the paintings are medium or small, yet my heart was still immersed in the poetic moon light when I stepped out of the museum after the research on Henry Golden Dearth in the museum archives. I knew a second visit was a must. It didn’t take me that long to go back: in fact only about 24 hours. Daingerfield, his first biography writer remarked that Blakelock only depicted two phases of nature: twilight and moonlight. If so, moments of solitude and silence are a requisite of appreciation. For a long time, there were only Eric and me surrounded by the paintings of Blakelock. (Though next to Guggenheim, the National Academy was not crowded on Saturday.)

There are two pieces of facts that really contrast with the underappreciated status of the artist and draw my attention: Blakelock is the one of the most forged American artists if not the most forged artist in America. And his work in the collection of National Academy and Sheldon Museum of Art are among the favorites of the artist members and local practicing artists.

However, Blakelock stands by himself as one of the less known artists from art history point of view: A follower of Hudson River School at his early career; an outsider of the Barbizon school. And even though was paired with Ryder for the abstract patterns, forms in their works, in general only Ryder is credited as the precursor of the American abstract modernism.

In those moonlight or twilight paintings, I saw the sculpted layers of paint being built up and scrapped down and the forming of paint partially by consciousness, partially by subconsciousness and accidents. No doubt Blakelock lived in his own realm which is quite different from those of Barbizon school: Dwight Tryon and Alexander Wyant belong to the old world, even though they have abandoned the keen observation of nature and favored a more evocative personal expressiveness. Blakelock, by painting from his internal feeling and insights, had gone further to show the dream world that did not has its prototype in the real world. If Henry Ward Ranger dabbed the color with varnish to advance the range of oil paint from translucent to opaque, Blakelock’s obsess with the ruggedness of canvas anticipated the 20th century modern art when the surface structure of paint speaks as loud as the content itself.

There are other works that surprised me by their being un-Blakelock. A painting of sunset with seals has dazzling colors: The warm orange red on top of blue sky and sea water is not something untypical. However, if the pattern of the tree branches surrounded by the yellowish cloud echoes Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in his painting which bears the same title, here the range of the colors that he adopted plays dramatic music scores. (I could almost hear the hymn of the splendid sunset sung by those seals painted suggestively.) A still life painting of bee on thistle blends the hi-fi effect of blowing up details with its mysterious background. It does not have the exactness and perfection as Georgia Keefe, but the light pinkish/purple flower out of the hazed dark green accented by a oversized bee is so audacious in its high-contrast that highly decorative flowers boldly attacked by John Lafarge would look from the old world.

The second room in the exhibition displayed works in a more coherent style. The Pegasus with a few others seems to be more about patterns, forms and shapes than what they really represent. A few were painted probably in a rush that the wood panel corner was left unpainted; others seem to have lost the original colors due to the coal tar ingredient used by Blakelock. (His paintings must be disastrous project from conservator’s point of view.) The moonlight owned by and Sheldon Museum of Art, hung above fireplace of the room. If color (or devoid of color) and music can be used to describe the three moonlight paintings grouped together in the first room, this undated moonlight reminds me of late Blakelock’s mental illness. The clouds around the moon bear striking contrast between fire-burning neuroticism and suppressive coldness. Like the thistle, the clouds popped out visually and physically. I looked up: it was hung high and not much detail can be obtained. The natural light shone onto the surface, but the night is still dark, irresistible and chilled my spine. It is a lonely night, and like his other paintings, there exudes a sense of unease and insecurity. Beyond that, words fail; only emotion stirs like the burning clouds. A plaque on the painting next to it comments:

What if the clouds one short dark night, hide the blue sky until morn appears
When the bright sun that cheers soon again will rise to shine upon earth for endless years

The Unknown Blakelock is on view at National Academy Museum till Jan 4, 2009.

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!

Part 1 is here.

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Even though the market prices of American paintings have gone record high in the past decades, the American Barbizon school nowadays is less known in public and claims little spotlights in the major auction houses. Between the grand panoramic rendering of Hudson River School and exciting, bright-toned eye-candy of American Impressionism, the Barbizon school was short-lived and apparently less appealing to the general public. But these painters quietly testified the statement for the first time of American art history that landscape paintings are and should be subjective and personal. With the advent of early photography, it was not accidental that these painters gave up details in the canvases and opted for the more intangible -- that can only be shown indicatively and suggestively.

The way Albert Bierstadt or Edwin Church orchestrated the elements with exceptional details and minutiae to extricate dramatic settings challenge the eyes more than the minds. We see apocalyptic clouds, we see also the leaves of the foreground vegetations. All are given in a scientific exactness, all given are the God's garden in God's perspective.; however, what is missing is the room for the minds to roam around. There is a peculiar contrast between the immense scales of the canvases and the aloofness of human feelings. Here are we, the onlookers at the mercy of the splendid techniques of the painters., whose intricate compositions are of great intellectual, but again we do not and need not have the role of participation.

Then came the late Inness, whose canvases have nothing solid and everything seems to be floating and out of focus. The lack of focus points forces the eyes to view the canvases in the whole, which were usually painted in a unified hue. Henry Ward Ranger started the painting with a special brownish varnish to which he attributed the magic glow inhis autumnal landscapes. Other painters like Dwight Tryon or John Francis Murphy used limited pallet with subdued colors. Quite often, the picture is medium dark, almost bordering murkiness. In viewing these pictures, the consciousness of audience has naturally changed from grasping what is offered in Hudson River school paintings to examine what can be explored in Barbizon paintings; in other words, our minds search instead of catch.

Such an ironic comparison can also be applied to infer the difference between Barbizon school and its succeeder - Impressionism. I have been fond of Impressionism and find that the best impressionistic paintings do not suppress the proactive thinking, the take-charge initiative from the audience by their pure visual pleasure. Too often, I have seen some modern Impressionism paintings with brilliant broken colors, or complimentary excitement; but there is nothing evocative beyond that point. And quite often the eyes get exhausted after experiencing a kaleidoscopic showcase of color range.

If the reduced color pallet and muted darkened tones in Barbizon paintings intrigue us into the depth of the canvas and the whole effect of the suggestive moods, then the typical subjects that are chosen by these group of painters bring us an infinite degrees of intimacy. Instead of the bird view of the grandeur that is supposed to be only enjoyed by the God, a closely acquainted or familiar scenes are frequently painted by Ranger, Tryon, and Murphy, etc. There are deep woods where we have trotted; or the brook that quenches both the cattles and travelers. The marshland of Murphy's paintings reminds the New Yorkers the nature of Long Island; while the old Church under the brush of Henry Golden Dearth stands for our unpretentious daily life. But contrary to the Impressionists, who preferred strong lightand shadow, Barbizon school would find its ideal in dusks or evenings when even the mundane objects bear a touch of tenderness or nostalgia. It is true that the foreground is most likely to be all muddily indistinguishable; yet the remains of the light is at once mysterious and momentary but also recalls something eternal and recurrent in one's subconsciousness. The profound sentimentality springs out when the unvarying surroundings take a softer form that combines the ordinary and the accustomed with the unanticipated. We've seen the trees growing taller as the sun sinks off the horizon, but only under the brush of the Barbizon painters do we really behold and enjoy the beauty of such sunset. In front of such paintings, we are encouraged to perceive out of the vagueness and to seek deeply into our profound memory because of the tendered moods, the suggestive brush strokes and the routine scenery which we think we know from the heart and which surprises us when filtered through painters' eyes.

In someway, Inness and his followers painted with a continuum of pianissimo. It is said: When volumes of the sounds are toned down, we hear our own internal echos, in a definite resonant.

Keep reading part 3 here.