On the Homefront
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Life Lessons in Art
by Barbara Israel Bortniker

Andrew Wyeth
 
 
 
 
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Andrew Wyeth, Christina's World, c. 1948  
at the Museum of Modern Art, New York
 
In education, as in love and friendship, the most unplanned circumstances sometimes yield the most satisfying results.  A perfect example of this occurred recently when my son and I unexpectedly found ourselves with a free afternoon.  My son’s cancelled social plans coincided with a glowing newspaper review of the Andrew Wyeth retrospective at the Philadelphia Art Museum.  On a moment of inspiration, I suggested that we hop in the car and take a two-hour drive to see this celebration of a unique American master at the pinnacle of his career.

Granted, a “ fifteen year-old boy” and an “art museum” are not two phrases often found in the same sentence. And rarely are teenagers found together with their parents in public, except in compulsory situations preceded by significant grumbling.  Nevertheless, we have always insisted on maintaining a certain balance in our family’s calendar, including some appropriate adult venues along with the more usual youth-oriented activities.  We believe that in areas of social life and culture, children of every age need parental guidance and standards if they are to learn flexibility, respect for others, and open-mindedness.  Difficult as it may be sometimes, parents and teenagers who can find ways to enjoy each other’s company strengthen family bonds and gain a broader perspective on life.

Although my son was hardly enthusiastic, he agreed to come along after some negotiation involving our driving him to a concert next week and his choice of snacks for the trip.  Plugged into his iPod during the entire ride down, he began to perk up once we passed the impressive fountains and climbed the massive stairway to the Museum.  Despite his predetermination that this day would be endured rather than enjoyed, he surveyed the statuary and friezes adorning the buildings and entranceway of the museum with awe. “Wow!” he said in wonder and surprise.

What caught his attention were heroic male and female nude sculptures in the Roman style.  Neither of us was uncomfortable in our joint presence of such nudity, however, as we might have been under different circumstances.  These sculptures, like the painted figures we saw later, were dynamic, depicting struggle and triumph, or emotionally evocative, resonating with pathos. How different from the aggressive, exploitative images constantly bombarding youth in advertising and music videos, I thought.  Here was an opportunity to view human nudity as natural, with dignity and respect.

The rest of the afternoon was an unparalleled experience which we both thoroughly enjoyed.  At the Wyeth exhibit, we took headphones (a natural accessory for teenagers) and listened to an audio tour that explained the symbolism and background stories of the paintings.  Many of the works feature time-worn, commonplace subjects, imbued with serene beauty and emotion. We were struck by the artist’s incredible attention to detail and the discipline required by his time-consuming technique.  The cumulative impact makes viewers slow down, observe, and really appreciate our surroundings and the uniqueness of each human being.

Most importantly, the themes of the paintings prompted discussion about issues that parents and teenagers rarely mention: loss, death, and responsibility to one’s family and community, among other things.  For example, Andrew Wyeth’s primary mentor was his father, famed illustrator N.C. Wyeth, who had a profound influence on his art and life.  Describing a painting done after his father’s death, of a lone figure in a canvas dominated by a large, desolate hill, Wyeth says that the hill itself is a portrait of his father.  Only after his father was gone did he feel that he had become a true artist.  We talked afterwards about the paradox of this comment, about love and grief, and respect for one’s parents and teachers versus the natural desire for independence. 

 

In the Museum café and all the way home, my son kept the iPod stowed as he pursued our conversation.  We discussed the artist’s lifetime devotion to his old friends, his modest and private lifestyle despite significant wealth and fame, the extraordinary time invested in perfecting each painting, some involving innumerable studies and revisions.  My son raised interesting questions laden with ethical and legal issues:  Why do patrons choose to become philanthropists, and why support the arts?  Why is American and European art so different from that of African, Asian, and Islamic societies, and which is “better”?  What happens if art is stolen from individual owners, from museums, or from other countries?

The impact of our museum visit extended to realms that conventional education and planned curricula could not begin to reach.  Museums, whether dealing with art, science or history, represent permanence and an appreciation for the enduring achievements of the past.  These institutions and their collections are monuments to the generosity and visionary wisdom of the patrons.   The most valuable part of the museum experience, however, is the chance to spend time together with family members, talking, learning and sharing ideas with each other and with some of the wisest people who came before us.

 

Ms. Bortniker holds a law degree (JD) as well as a master’s of Fine Arts in painting. She is the mother of four children, the oldest of whom has just finished his second year at BU Medical School.

 
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