110 years ago this week in New York City, an art exhibit that came to be known simply as the “Armory Show” was about to open. Housed in the sprawling 69th Regiment armory, it became famous as the place where American audiences got their first look at European modernism. What’s often overlooked in the reputation of the show is that there were plenty of works on display that today you would not think of as Modern at all and would probably view as pretty traditional realism. American painters like George Bellows, James Whistler, and John Sloan were well represented
The show was also where 30-year-old Edward Hopper sold his first piece ever: a little oil on canvas called “Sailing” for which he received $250.
Hopper was born in 1882 in the Hudson River Valley north of New York City. His artistic ability was evident from an early age. He graduated high school in 1899 and wound up at the New York School of Art and Design. There he studied under famed American painter Robert Henri whose works are notable for their gritty realism, usually of urban scenes. It was said that Henri told his students “it isn’t the subject that counts but what you feel about it.” Remember that. A more trenchant quotation about Hopper’s later work you’d be hard pressed to find.
Hopper isn’t in the celebrated mainstream of American art in the mid 20th century which, from the 20’s through the 50’s, was moving hard in the direction of energetic abstraction. His specialty came to be city scenes that, instead of portraying the hustle and bustle of crowded streets, closed in on more intimate and solitary moments: scenes that were left out of gin-fueled Jazz Age parties and of 1950s TV sit-coms.
While his name may be slightly unfamiliar, I bet you know his most famous painting. It’s called “Nighthawks,” and shows an all-night diner in which we see three customers and a counter attendant. It’s one of the most iconic, referenced, and reproduced images in all of American art.
For people who thrive on the crowd, his work might seem melancholy, even sad. And there is a strong undercurrent of loneliness that’s often present. In 1980 critic Robert Hughes wrote that Hopper sensed but did not agonize over a profound solitude that lay below American optimism.
In our age, his art is particularly welcome because it reminds us that despite the constant din of social media, we are individuals for whom quiet and sometimes isolation is not the end of the world.