WPA Paintings at the Smithsonian

I spent a few recent days in D.C. to send off McFly and Mr. McFly on their travels with a grand bon voyage. Between bouts of Oklahoma college football, multiple games of Ticket to Ride, and long walks in search of Thai food, we found some time for historic art.

Specifically, 1934: A New Deal for Artists at the Smithsonian American Art Museum — an exhibit of paintings from the Public Works Art Project’s first year of existence.

At Madrid Coal Mine, New Mexico
Carl Redin
b. Sweden
d. Los Gatos, Calif.

I’ve written about New Deal post office murals twice before, but WPA/PWAP art came first, and its intent was different. The post office murals were competitive commissions made for specific places, and local committees had some say in their content. In contrast, the primary purpose of PWAP art was to get people paychecks. Artists who were hired could paint what they wanted, as long as their content could somehow be categorized as “the American Scene.”

Golden Gate Bridge
Ray Strong
b. Corvallis, Ore.
d. Three Rivers, Calif.

Very quickly, the federal government became proud owner of hundreds of new works, and paintings were quickly distributed here and there — to hang in government-owned buildings (including the White House), for loan to museums, and to travel the country in special free exhibitions. It’s funny to see, on the line for acquisition information under each art work in the exhibit, the coldly bureaucratic “Transfer from the U.S. Department of Labor” (instead of, for example, the coldly paternalistic “Bequeath of Mr. and Mrs. Muckety-Muck”).

The Farmer’s Kitchen
Ivan Albright
b. Harvey, Ill.
d. Woodstock, Vt.

It’s easy to tell that the money for the 1934 arts program came through in the middle of winter. It’s as if the artists, excited at the prospect of a paycheck, and instructed to portray “the American Scene,” raced out their front doors into America, and painted the first subject to present itself. Snow shoveling is a recurring theme.

Manhattan Skyline
John Cunning
b. Albany, N.Y.
d. New York, N.Y.

As do desolate farm scenes. This one is by Washington State painter Kenjiro Nomura, who was later interned with other Japanese at a camp in Idaho during World War II. He continued to make art while detained, and an exhibit of this work toured in during the 1990s, though I can’t find any images online. Leads, anyone?

The Farm
Kenjiro Nomura
b. Gifuken, Japan
d. Seattle, Wash.

Here’s one of our group’s favorites. It also has one of the better titles in the show.

Gold Is Where You Find It
Tyrone Comfort
b. Port Huron, Mich.
d. Los Angeles, Calif.

(While browsing the great JimmyWayne’s Flickr stream of post office murals, I found a photo of a 1939 montage mural in Fayetteville, W.Va., by one Nixford Baldwin, that includes an image strikingly like Comfort’s. But that’s a New Deal art mystery for another day.)

And finally, I couldn’t wrap up this post without mentioning that New York state got represented twice. There’s a view of paper-factory workers in Glens Falls, N.Y., the men at the giant paper rolls looking square like Lego people.

And then there’s this view of a railroad overpass in Binghamton. According to the museum’s, commentary, this painting was produced not as an original artwork, exactly, but as an effort to document a WPA construction project. A photo was printed on canvas, and the unidentified artist painted over it. The museum owns at least two other similar works. But I’m still puzzled. Why all the effort, when a photo would have been just fine for documenting? Was this an ultimate “make-work” project? Or an honest effort fine art? Whatever the case, I find it funny that this is one of top two “favorite-ed” pieces on the exhibit’s photostream.

Unidentified: (Underpass- Binghamton, New York)
Unknown Artist

Speaking of that photostream, it’s a good one. All the photos in this post came from there. And the Museum also provides a second stream of hundreds more paintings and drawings that were made in 1934, including many made for the WPA.

Bloggers’ reviews of the show’s artistic merit have ranged from adoring to borderline dismissive. There’s no doubt that the PWAP artists were not all, or mostly, greats. For some true mediocrity (along with some intriguing nuggets), go trolling through the Museum’s second photostream mentioned above. But for the windows of social and political imagination this show opens up, I relished it.

The show’s on display through January 3 — in DC and on Flickr. Go, via one medium or the other, and tell me what you think.