Favorite Artists 14 - Thomas Eakins

Thomas Eakins, "Self Portrait," oil, ca.1902

Despite the preponderance of Europeans, there are quite a few American painters whose work I've enjoyed and admired. Among them is Thomas Eakins (1844-1916). 

Thomas Eakins grew up in Philadelphia but studied not only at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts but also in Europe at the Ecole des Beaux Arts during the mid-1860s. He also spent time in Spain studying Ribera, Velazquez and other masters. His father, a master calligrapher, probably also influenced his dedication to precision and accurate drawing. Regardless of his influences he became deeply interested in truth in painting, in realism. Although he was exposed to the French Academy tradition and even to early impressionistic works he preferred careful attention to form and mass in his paintings.

"Max Schmitt in a Single Scull," oil, 1871

After his years in Europe Mr. Eakins returned to Philadelphia in 1870 and spent the majority of his life painting and teaching there. One of my favorite paintings came in 1871, Max Schmitt in a Single Scull. Mr. Eakins and Mr. Schmitt were friends from high school. The painting shows the two of them on the Schuylkill River in the city, Mr. Eakins in the more distant boat. In this single work we can see his devotion to precise drawing, careful composition, and true coloring. He painted about a dozen works about rowing, including both oil and watercolor pieces but didn't return to the subject. Instead he painted quite a lot of indoor scenes and portraits during those beginning years. 

Still looking for recognition, he decided to paint a major work for the Centennial Exposition, which was to take place in Philadelphia in 1876. He had studied anatomy at Jefferson Medical College while at the Pennsylvania Academy and was familiar with the renowned surgeon and teacher Samuel Gross, who was quite famous. The painting was certainly ambitious, its size alone speaking loudly of the painter's intent at 96 by 78 inches. 

"The Gross Clinic," oil, 1875

In the painting, Dr. Gross, natty in his frock coat, stands in the skylit cockpit of the operating theater at Jefferson Medical, in mid-operation. He is holding a scalpel in his bare right hand (surgical gloves had yet to be invented), and has turned to speak to students in the gallery. An assistant administers ether, a common anesthetic. The painting is imposing; Dr. Gross and the others are nearly life-size. A woman cowers (the patient's mother?) in the background. Although it was rejected for the art exhibition, it was exhibited at the Centennial Exposition but in an Army Post Hospital display. For many it was a sensation and a revelation. Surgery was not commonly seen, and the scene was considered too terrible for those with delicate nerves. The Evening Telegraph commented at the time that there was "...nothing so fine in the American section of the Art Department of the Exhibition, and it is a great pity that the squeamishness of the Selecting Committee compelled the artist to find a place for it in the United States Hospital building. It is rumored that the blood on Dr. Gross' fingers made some of the members of the committee sick..." Regardless, The Gross Clinic was purchased and hung in Jefferson Medical College and later elsewhere in the university. Today it's considered by some the finest American painting of the 19th century. In my opinion, it's certainly in the top ten. If Mr. Eakins hadn't painted another work he would be secure in the history of art.

"The Swimming Hole," oil, 1885

In 1876 he began teaching at the Pennsylvania Academy as a volunteer, moving to a full-time position in 1878 and becoming director in 1882. It was his academic career that was nearly his undoing. For one thing, Mr. Eakins was not a fan of the atelier tradition which dictated beginning drawing from plaster casts and then proceed (slowly) through drawing to eventual painting. He threw that sequence out the window, instituted painting very early, and advocated use of photographs (photography was then very new). And worse, he insisted that the nude figure--male and female--was the basis for all truth in art. There were questions of propriety when female students were exposed to male nudity. In any event, he was forced to resign in 1886. Although he was devastated by the events at the Pennsylvania Academy he continued to teach privately and at a number of other schools.

In his maturity Mr. Eakins spent a great deal of time on photography, including the sort of sequential images made by Edweard Muybridge, and portraits. In his portrait work, he sought the kind of insight in character that today's more contemporary painters also want. He had no interest in the kind of flattering portrait many patrons desired and so was never a commercial success. Surprisingly, he sold little more than two dozen paintings in his lifetime despite his undeniable talent, work ethic, and intelligence.

A post about Thomas Eakins would not be complete without his later masterpiece, The Agnew Clinic, another favorite of mine. 

"The Agnew Clinic," oil, 1889

The Agnew Clinic was commissioned by the senior class of the University of Pennsylvania Medical School. The class had wanted a simple portrait of their favorite professor of surgery, Dr. Hayes Agnew, who was retiring. Mr. Eakins not only painted Dr. Agnew but included every member of the senior class as they watched a mastectomy. Painted a scant fourteen years after The Gross Clinic, the Agnew scene is equally shocking--mastectomy was mysterious and mutilating. Moreover, though, much had changed. Unlike Dr. Gross, Dr. Agnew is both wearing a surgical gown and surgical gloves, though not masked, those having not been introduced. His assistant, performing a portion of the procesure is gowned, but has rolled up the sleeves, exposing his bare forearm, and is not gloved. A female nurse (a first) is in attendance. Although it hasn't the raw power of the Gross painting, The Agnew Clinic remains a potent painting and a valuable document of the advance of medical knowledge.

Thomas Eakins was something of an outcast in art circles during the last thirty years of his life. Neither was he a commercial success. Nonetheless his indisputable mastery of realism became a model for a number of those who followed in the twentieth century--notably George Bellows and the Ashcan School. He remains one of my favorites.