JOHN SINGLETON COPLEY, PAINTER OF IQ POINTS

Most Americans know John Singleton Copley from his famous portrait of his contemporary, Paul Revere (above). That's a pity because the Revere portrait was done while Copley was still leaning how to paint, and it's far from being his best work.

Copley was an idealistic realist, a tradition that goes back at least as far as Rome.  The Romans sculptors gave us portrait busts (above) that were startlingly realistic, and yet were overlayed with an ideal that most of the subjects shared, one which placed great value on being practical men of action.

  


Above is a portrait of Brutus, the friend and assassin of Caesar.

Copley reminds me of another realist, Holbein. Thanks to Holbein we have what must be a starkly realistic depiction of the characters at Henry VIII's court. That's Thomas Moore above. 

I'll mention in passing that Copley painted a number of famous seascapes (above) dealing with shark attacks.

If the Romans made portraits showing men of action, Copley made portraits (above) showing men of determination and thought. Copley loved to paint IQ points. 

Were the people he painted really as bright as they appear here? Who knows?

It's odd that a painter can be a realist and still skewer his portraits (above) in a direction that reflects what the painter himself thinks is valuable in life. Copley clearly values intellect and drive. These are no nonsense people who get things done. 

Copley was an American who emmigrated to England just before the Revolutionary War. He taught himself how to paint from the engravings in books and the small number of European oil paintings that managed to find their way over here. 

This (above) must be an American portrait. 

Once in England he soaked up the European styles like a sponge. You can see the influence of Gainsborough and even Rubens here (above). Boy, look how stiff the girl in the picture is! How did that happen?

Even his old women (above) look like they have enormous inner strength.

This (above) is an interesting character study. The man shows diligence, judgement, wit and humanity.

I can't get over how real these pictures (above) seem. To judge from Copley people back then looked just like we do.

The influence of Rubens is large in these (above) children's portraits. 

After a while his English portraits get less idealistic, but no less skilled. I imagine that he painted this woman (above) as bored because she made no attempt to hide her lethargy while sitting.

Occasionally he painted simple, practical men (above).

From an earlier period maybe, two portraits (above) of humane, intelligent men who got things done. 

Who is this man (above)?

THE ONLY MANLY OCCUPATION

I've always thought of men who worked with iron and steel as participating in the work of the gods. That's Thor above. This gigantic picture is on the wall of the Museum of Science and Industry in London.

I like the line in "Jason and the Argonauts" where one of the Greeks marvels that they wondered into the valley where Esphestus crafted the pre-historic giants.

Somehow no other job seems manly to me. I mean a man produces things, doesn't he? It's our job to reach into the ground, lift up tons of iron ore,  and make magnificent, impossible things out of it.



I always thought of iron as a mysterious metal that came to Earth from outer space. Isn't it true that the iron in the Earth's core came here via meteor and asteroid collisions?

The picture above is of Mercury, which has an unusually large core of iron.  Maybe the whole planet is the core of a planet whose mantel was blown away. Click to enlarge.

I like the way iron can be used to craft delicate art objects like these iron shop signs (above) in Salzburg. I read that artisans competed to see how far their signs could stick out over the streets without falling down. 

Even the MacDonald's in Salzburg has a beautiful iron sign.

Iron gates (above) are especially beautiful. What an interesting counterpoint to tile, stone and stucco!

And what silhouettes (above) they make!

I like greenhouses (above) with their walls of glass and iron. There's something very civilized about them.

It's odd that something as heavy and industrial as iron (above) should set off something as delicate as plants so well.

Iron is a fearsome instrument of war. Here (above) iron (or mostly iron) canons cast a shock wave on the water.

I'd hate to be on the other side of this (above) barrage.

Ever since the Industrial Revolution iron has symbolized heavy industry. What would Esphestus have thought of this (above)?

Giant iron gears (above) have always fascinated me,  though I can't help but wince when I think of the fate of anyone caught in them. 

It's amazing that iron steam engines can be so powerful and useful, and still be works of art at the same time.

We're just frail little bags of guts, but we like to work with the heaviest, most brutal and inhuman materials imaginable. 

I wish I could have seen the first elevated trains (above).

When I was a kid it took all my will power and a zillion threats from my parents and teachers to prevent me from playing on the urban train tracks.

The "El" stations (above) all looked like the beautiful, pseudo-expressionist train stations that Germans built in the 19th century. I hope that cities that are lucky enough to have these stations still in operation will resist plans to tear them down.

WHAT KIND OF LIVING ROOM?

What kind of living room do you prefer? Me, I like ones with lots of light, like the one designed by Carl Larsson above. Actually, my source might have mislabeled this picture. It looks more like a sewing room to me, but its nice and cheery, and there are elements that would be nice in a living room. Click to enlarge.

Amazingly, after decades of modernism the classic American living room (above) still holds up as an ideal.  The problem is that this was created for the kind of tasteful New England interiors they were building in 1920, and it looks a little out of place in most modern houses.

 


Some people (above) should have their license to decorate revoked. Really, if you can't do it yourself you should plead with a friend to help you out. 

Maybe more chords would help.

Here's (above) a sculptor's living room. The furniture is islands of marble and there's a forest of tall, awkward sculptures. It's completely impractical, but I like the idea of a house that reflects the vocation of the owner.  One kind of house for the accountant and the blacksmith is tyranny.

Yikes! A modernist nightmare (above)! I'd go nuts if I had to live there.

Funny living rooms (above) are seldom comfortable.

Sometimes people's hobbies (above) dominate the room.

Am I imagining it, or are living rooms dwindling in significance these days? Nowadays living rooms are often showcase rooms and the real action takes place elsewhere, in the rec rooms and kitchens. Some people have even converted their living rooms into offices. 

Some living rooms are absurdly small now.

On the other hand, kitchens have grown enormously. They're cozy, social spaces now.  The kitchens shown above and below belonged to the sculptor, Alexander Calder.

This wall in Calder's kitchen looks like it's hewn out of rock, but I'll bet it's plaster or stucco.

Eames, the designer, favored the austere living room shown above. You can't get much more minimal than that. I think Steve Job's house was like this.

Here's (above) another view of the same room. The sofa is pushed out of the way by a big, wooden slab. I guess Eames liked slabs.

Most hippies had little use for living rooms. Sometimes they didn't even furnish them. For hippies, the important thing was the bedroom, and above all, the sacred water bed.

The exception was rich hippie futurists who were partial to fuzzy living rooms with soft, rounded edges. 

Come to think of it, hippie musicians liked living rooms, too. The rooms were dimly lit and had lots of funny furnishings. 

The last living room I saw and liked was the one in Woody Allen's "Play It Again, Sam." It recently played on the Turner channel. It was funky, but seemed like the kind of place where memorable events would happen.

AMATEUR vs. PROFESSIONAL SMOKERS

It's a sad fact that most smokers don't know how to smoke.  I don't smoke myself  because I don't want to get cancer, but I hate to see a good cigarette wasted by the neglect of amateurs. It's the uncomfortable feeling you get when imagining a thoroughbred horse pulling a milk wagon.

Here (above) the cigarette is held at such a drastic angle that the tobacco is fuel-starved, and fails to produce interesting strings.  Not only that but the smoke in her mouth is pushed out in a vague and artless haze, with no attempt to give it shape.

  


You have to give this smoker (above) points for trying, though she too is an amateur. She senses the potential in the smoke but doesn't know how to shape it. She just lets it roll out and do whatever it wants to do.



Now HERE'S a professional! The cigarette is held level, producing living strings and nebulas. The puff produces robust, philosophical shapes depicting...depicting what? Maybe ghosts at war with each other. 

Nebula's (above) are fun, but they use up the cigarette really fast. Better have lots if you're going to smoke like this.

This is a funny way to smoke because the favorite resting place for a nebula is the head of a near-by non-smoker.



A true genius (above) at work! She launches the tumultuous Four Horseman of the Apocalypse under a canopy of morphing jellyfish strings. What does it all mean? The smoker invites us to ponder.

Cigarettes are so eager to please.  Sometimes they'll go into overdrive, creating mysterious dramas and tragedies for us when we're not even paying attention.



Here the professional experiments with a haze that unexpectedly produces menacing tentacles.

Notice the interesting dramas which are unraveling in the strings. Note too, the intriguing "smoking gun"-type smoke emerging from the back of the cigarette. 

Some smokers don't puff much. They're content to hold the cigarette still and watch the strings unravel slowly and languidly. Others hold the cigarette still but will deliberately avoid looking at it. It's enough for them to know that the strings are there, unwinding and creating characters and stories that will last only a few moments then experience unchronicled death. 

Let us end this with one more glimpse at the professional smoker (above), gloriously creating stories in the sky. Here the nebulous haze ejected from the mouth meets a stone wall created by the updraft carrying the strings. The nebula, having no place to go, collects into itself all the haze behind it, which it attempts to re-form into a great drama. Above it, a second nebula, also trapped in the strings, attempts to carve out a life for itself. "I want to live!" it seems to say, but it's futile life is soon snuffed out.  

Fascinating!