R.I.P. Andrew Wyeth (July 12, 1917 – January 16, 2009)
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
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Wyeth sure lived to be a ripe age. He’s from your state, isn’t he?
I recognize that man!
Yup, southeastern PA. Pretty typically Pennsylvanian in his politics and outlook, too, though most people associated him with the dour New England of so many of his subjects.
Tom makes a good stand-in for a bearded conquistador, don’t you think? :)
:-)
Bafflingly, his passing has gone largely unreported here. UK cultural imperialism.
Dave, I wasn’t quite sure what you meant by “pretty typically Pennsylvanian in his politics and outlook,” but it stimulated my curiosity and I looked up Chester County, his home and my backyard, on Wikipedia. I found, among “Other Elected Officials” for that area, the following: Sire Rickenback, Haunter of Trails; Lady Halibut, Pearl Necklace Loving Chest; and Bunny Welsh, Sheriff. Yup. Idiosyncrasy rules.
I immediately thought of this image when I heard of Wyeth’s passing; thanks for sharing it.
Dick – Well, it might have something to do with his contested status too, perhaps. He was entirely too popular with the hoi polloi for some critics.
Peg – Ha! Yes, what I meant by that was “anti-establishment in a cranky and/or conservative manner,” I guess. Our weird German – redneck heritage, part neatness and order, part Whiskey Rebellion.
Lorianne – Really? Well, glad to oblige, then!
I always thought she was relearning something essential. So much more hands than anything else.
Yes, and Wyeth’s hyper-realism and the title of the painting are keys to its power over our imaginations, I think. Christina’s world is one in which every blade of grass is painstakingly given its due.