Parallels in Life
Mckinley Monument -Canton Ohio
I just read an
article in the New York Times about Ferdinand Brader, a 19 th. Century folk
artist who traveled the Ohio and Pennsylvania hillsides, doing detailed pencil
renderings of farmsteads to hang over the fireplace in five foot long pieces of
heavy paper. Not that I see myself a life ever possessing the same character or
zest for what they do , but instead find myself wondering if I lived in that
time , is this the type of job I would seek if I was alone and had no
responsibilities. The article talks of Ferdinand’s history and his legacy of
over 900 drawings of which only 230 are known to still exist. Although not
commanding a huge price in art markets but still in the ten thousand dollar and
up range. I will include a link to the article as well to the McKinley museum
in Canton, Ohio , a place I haven’t visited in quite a while but will surely make
it soon to see their exhibit and view Brader’s original work on loan, and in exhibition
at the museum. I think while I am there I am going to see if they still have
the planetarium there.
I can remember
visiting the museum when we were going to school in what I would have to say is
the fifth grade at Magnolia middle school at the time. It’s been awhile since I
was there, some 48 years or better. I drive mom every once in a while, up to
the back to the back of Mc Kinley monument when we drive through the park. Mainly
we head back up there because they have a handicap access parking lot up there
and it offers a great view of the rear of the monument. It’s always nice to see
a different facet of the same old thing you have passed most of your life.
Why it is the
things practically in your backyard are often the least appreciated wonders of
your life we take for granted. It has been awhile since I climbed the steps to
Mc Kinley monument or walked inside the tomb itself. I drive through the parks
all the time and have been a continued visitor over my life. In some ways it is
timeless in its beauty, and predictable in its splendor from its landscaped
tree plantings to the Easter lilies signaling a rebirth of summertime in the
park. It changes over a season but not in anything dramatic, instead only in a
natural way. The forever flame is always lit at the Canton Flower club,
waterfalls at the cut stone overflow’s bubble their way to Nimisilla Creek in
creek raceways. Geese and ducks abound at the ice skating pools. Very little of
the landscaping has changed over the years, except the quality of the water
from Nimisilla Creek has improved drastically from hitting all-time lows.
Back to the parallels,
as I seem to be wandering much like Mr. Brader did as he traveled the
countryside taking lodging in the farmhouse of those who were his clients as
part payment on work he was to do. I have done pencil sketches much like he has
of architectural renderings and such of his. Using two point perspective and of
course just my imagination, I would detail out drawings that would represent
properties I would like to see in my life, houses I would like to build , and
dreams I have yet to make reality of, that would be in line with the work he
was doing at the time.
No electric and
maybe sometimes not the best accommodations were to be had by Mr. Brader,
knowing full well farm families and their need to be thrifty. I could only
imagine cramped quarters or embellishments to the drawing to make the farmstead
appear nicer than what it was. After all you would have this hung over you
mantle in your living room for the world to see if they stumbled on your door
step. Mr. Brader’s task may not have been as easy as it seems. Still I kinda
like the fact he was nomadic in nature pursuing a dream. In some ways I wish
myself that I could be so carefree and do the same. Imagine the stories one farmer
could tell and in that time Mr.Brader gave in return a great service as
renderings were the photographs of the time. A permanent image capture of life,
much like photographs and other forms of image capture including fine paintings
of the time. It was a rare and personal glimpse of a family’s life to have his
renderings over the mantle.
Much of his work
is done later in life and under a heavy load, not knowing where he was to sleep
or eat daily in some cases. They say in the wintertime he would hole up in an
infirmary. Now this is where I draw the line and I am sure our paths would
split as I know I am not going to be too wanting of company with the likes of
tuberculosis and yellow fever, and whatever maladies a man could get including
all those of that time before antibiotics.
Yesterday I
wasn’t feeling the best, and just had a hard time pushing myself to get any
task done. I have to push myself constantly and as well I should be doing 100
drawings per day, according to self-imposed standards of worthiness, this is in
addition to what I write. Of course I always have unattainable goals and I am thoroughly
disappointed with the meager tasks I do achieve, so that it kind of lulls me
into depression regarding my artistic career. Forget the greenhouse and
anything else that needs done. Having the constitution to stick with things I
start, has been hard for me in the past. Now doing something I like is a
different story. Writing isn’t so much of a chore when you enjoy doing it. As
well I have the same feelings for my art work, in both the fine folksy end of
my work, to the wood sculptures I produce. It is a labor of love.
Still sometimes I
have a problem doing what I love for money. To place a value on my time is
something everyone can understand, like for instance 100 dollars for a carving.
The cash value has nothing to do with the effort involved in making a sculpture
or other piece of work happen. It will never pay you back for those items you
gave away learning your craft, and no one besides the artist can fully
appreciate what a particular piece is really worth in terms of memories lost or
gained and what in reality that art piece truly reflects. How do you put a
price on that? And in the end how desperately you need the money. I have sold beautiful
bears with fish painted and looking great for 20 dollars. Why? I needed the gas money. And if you have to do
it day in day out to survive as Mr. Brader would have had to, at what point
does it all become too laborious to love anymore. Your art becomes a job, and
very little fun.
I have seen
sketches by Norman Rockwell and other famous artists and I am amazed at times
in just one thing and that is technique. We all strive to do the same thing. To
copy a beautiful image, seeing it in our eyes and translating it to paper ,
canvas etc., in a way that those unskilled in art will visualize and pick out
the nuances unfamiliar to the naked eye, but easily seen in the rendering as a
result of the artist’s focus. Technique is what separates amateurs from the professionals,
as you can see in the freehanded lines; the confidence of knowing that line is
where it is supposed to be. The reason because is that the artist has lived a
life of judging sizes and shapes and it is part of his regimen daily as he
practices his trade. This is the experience that gives him the confidence. This
confidence then shows in his work.
900 sketches in
what I would call somewhat the same style as say a Grandma Moses painting would
be, is a remarkable achievement. And to only achieve your success, and never be
able to appreciate it because you died too soon. This is most often the artist’s
legacy and that merit is hardly ever lived, instead reserved for future use.
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