exhibit #4

The Civil War & American Art (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

And The War Came- Martin Johnson Heade's Approaching Thunder Storm- this piece gives me chills. The black water, the dark curve of the wall of clouds, the quiet man in red, that poor sweet little white dog. That sharp white sail in the center, dividing the piece in two… man. Effective piece.

Sanford Robinson Gifford- A Coming Storm. Lake George in that fiery autumnal red, the water a cold mirror, the sky a circle of light- bright, pre-rain- with fire-like smoke and clouds encircling. Melville saw this piece himself, in New York- exciting to get to share this experience with him. Frederic E. Church- Meteor of 1860- a beautiful piece, that perfect violet hue and the sparkling celestial fireworks. Love Our Banner in the Sky. The red lightning on the tree- like it's already on fire. The proud and wounded flag.

The thing that really sticks with me is the American landscape, those fall trees, the hints of yellow- I don't quite know how to put it. American woods, American earth, has its own distinct look, something beautiful to it, familiar. I can smell it. I can feel the air. It's a very sweet and placid world this war came to.

At The Front- Bierstadt's Guerrilla Warfare, Civil War. A slightly passive, distant view… like he's just lounging at his canvas, watching the soldiers… Homer's Skirmish in the Wilderness- I love these dark, wooded colors- also, terrifying. The smoke, the slumped over figure (a bullet through his forehead?) I love Defiance: Inviting a Shot Before Petersburg. Something beautifully American, and utterly manly, about that characteristic of defiance.

Homer's Home, Sweet Home- love the color of the jacket. His details are so brightly rendered, I enjoy his texturing, largely created by those contrasts of dark and light. This was the other side of the war- the long waits…

Chapman and Gifford- Conrad Wise Chapman- the only professional Confederate artist, it seems. A painting of the Hunley, a Confederate submarine- found in 2000. I wanna look up that story. Chapman's views of Ft. Sumter are beautifully lit. Fort Sumter, Interior, Sunrise. I didn't realize what a miserable heap of mud Ft. Sumter was- but it makes sense. Shelled all the time. Love the water and the light, the huddled crew around the fire. What an insane way to experience the war, guarding that muddy hole- feels like a weird dirty broken down Scifi story. Like something out of Firefly.

John Gadsby Chapman- Evening Gun, Ft. Sumter- love this one (painted by the father, after the son.) The bright pink, the purple smoke, the brave, defiant, sharp angles, the sharp lift of the flag. Gifford's Camp of the Seventh Regiment, Near Fredericksburg, Maryland. The light and the air in this piece is just Magnificent… and so open… I want to live this moment.

Bivouac of the 7th Regiment- a beautiful piece, another moment I want to live- the dark dream of camp life at night, stoic, the fire. Not til I sat down, some distance from the piece, did I admire the balance of the two lights, moon and fire, like Heaven and Hell, their realms divided on the picture plane by the angled edge of the tallest tree.

Sunday Morning at Camp Cameron, Near Washington- "exhibited in the Oval Office, 1976-1989." Two Republicans and Jimmy Carter. No surprise. I'll have to see if I can find it in a photo from that era. The Preacher and his American flag. Those folksy Preachers, doing their political American duty. I wonder if the soldiers enjoyed this part of their week or if it was boring- if they bought into it or if it was, "we have to wake up early for This?"

Abolition and Emancipation- Love the bright clean colors of Eastman Johnson's The Old Mount Vernon. He painted the side and the rear- where the slaves were hanging out. Boy. That is Ballsy.

Johnson's Negro Life In The South- I saw this a few years ago at the Met's great American painting exhibit. I love the moss on the soggy planks- the setting is decrepit but still earthy, organic, vibrant. A Ride for Liberty- the Fugitive Slaves. This is another chills piece. I can feel the cold air. This moment is thunderous and ice quiet, going back and forth in my imagination. Stunning.

Slave Hunt, Dismal Swamp, Virginia. I love the deep, rich tangle of greens- but the human element of this piece is dark and terrifying. Christmas Time, the Blodgett Family- a much more comfortable environment than the vast majority of this exhibit. Good life for that guy, ay? Especially startling in direct contrast to the Slave Hunt piece. Jesus.

A Harvest of Death- Alexander Gardner, Photos of Antietam 9-19-63. This is where it gets real. All the glory, the ideology, the soft lighting, is gone. This is just dusty fields, in gray and brown, and dead men. Those gaping, bloated mouths… everything goes stone silent. This is a haunting, horrifying funeral montage. It reminds me of the chamber of blackness and the LBJ library, where they address the JFK assassination- a touch over 100 years later…

President Lincoln on the Battlefield, Antietam- a classic image; until now I've never seen it close enough to read Lincoln's expression- the dude looks annoyed. In a funny, "ugh, you" kinda way. Like he just smelled shit and realizes he can't leave this spot for a while.

Reconciliation and the Reconstruction Era- Homer's Prisoners From the Front- the space between North and South, and the destruction of the land… this was a beating into submission. Not a truce. The Fire of Leaves- a poignant, slightly cloying piece- but you need that deeply sappy thread of hope after such devastation. The beautiful sunset violet glow over everything, and that utterly American landscape. Homer's The Veteran in a New Field- another poignant classic, a piece I've seen previously on exhibit.

The Cotton Pickers- really like this one. That sad and thoughtful blend of doubt and determination- what future is out there for these young women? Man, just thinking of each generation, the determined build over every generation towards freedom and opportunity, the long moral arc of the universe.

Dressing for the Carnival- for whatever reason, depictions of low status people having frivolous fun always make me feel like weeping, in the worst way. Even when it's a positive story. The Girl I Left Behind Me- another chills piece. The gray on all sides, the windswept hair- she's Dorothy. Holding her books, stoic, waiting for the path forward to emerge- but not scared. Determined.

Landscapes of War- Homer Dodge Martin's The Iron Mine, Port Henry, New York. A big, pretty picture, rusty reds and greens… the scars in the landscape. Reminds me of how useful it is to have superior resources available. That's the American way.

George N. Barnard's photos of the destructive aftermath of Sherman's march. The horse skull in Scene of General McPherson's Death- haunting. God damn- Ruins in Charleston, South Carolina and Columbia, from the Capitol- man. Sherman Wrecked that place.

And upstairs, some Mammoth canvases. Every one of them is magnificent. Frederic Church's Aurora Borealis- Oh My God. Oh My God. Will I ever see such a magnificent and beautiful sight in my life? The mountain of ice, the explosions of red and the bright blue fire branded through the clouds, the tiny ship caught in the snow, the black sphere, like a sun or a rolling boulder; it all reminds me of Moby Dick, the massiveness of nature.

Love the gleaming red sun and orgasmically violent smoke, and the pouring waterfall, of Church's Cotopaxi. The Icebergs: love the glowing green tunnel in the corner. Rainy Season in the Tropics- an optimist's picture, the grand hope for crossing over, the safe passage… Bierstadt's Looking Down Yosemite Valley, California- no corrupting human element, a New Eden. The dream of the West as a fresh Frontier. A depiction of that dream of the fresh start, the bloodletting over.

The gallery spans from the cold, overpowering, dramatic blue of Aurora Borealis, to the placid golden glow of Yosemite Valley. A passage from trepidation to hope, moving Prewar to Postwar. And to counter, John Frederick Kensett's Sunrise Among the Rocks of Paradise, Newport, 1859; and Paradise Rocks: Newport, 1868. The golden violet spring glow of the young work; the somber wintry clarity, even down to the simpler and sadder title of the old work. It's a story of paradise lost; it's a story of getting older. I love it.

A good exhibit- there's not much America did better, artwise, than landscape painting- and I love all the ways landscape painting created allegories for the war. Tons more respect now for Homer and Church. Those guys are amazing.