John Fagg

Chamber Pots and Gibson Girls: Clutter and Matter in John Sloan’s Graphic Art

In the New York City Life etchings of 1905–06 and in the satirical and occasionally scatological “distortions” of mass-market magazine covers and advertisements he began to make around the same time, John Sloan created an art invested in the materiality of bodies and things. These works satirize and set themselves against the trends in commercial illustration—and specifically Charles Dana Gibson’s famous Girl and her imitators—which defined the visual appeal of Collier’s Weekly, the Saturday Evening Post, and the other magazines Sloan sometimes worked for as an illustrator. They are at once an insider’s critique of popular culture and statements of realist intent. Tracing cluttered spaces and frank depictions of bodily form and function back to the eighteenth-century poems and prints of William Hogarth and Jonathan Swift and on into early twentieth-century modernisms, this article locates Sloan within a long tradition of realist opposition to idealizing visions of human perfectibility.

“The Bewhiskered Rustic, Turned Orator”

This article takes as its starting point an illustration of an angry, bearded, rustic old man made by Robert Robinson for the cover of the November 26, 1910, issue of the Saturday Evening Post. It locates this image within the idiom of comic-narrative commercial illustration that Robinson contributed to and that Norman Rockwell would eventually master, and in the wider context of a burgeoning mass visual culture that facilitated subtle allusions to and subversions of familiar motifs and types. While rustic old men might be dismissed as anachronisms in the pages of a publication like the Post, Robinson’s illustrations stage complex encounters with the modern world, reference aspects of the contemporary political scene, and suggest various iconographies of dissent. The November 1910 cover was, this article argues, the product of a moment of political uncertainty and of the freedom afforded by the nascent mass media. When Robinson, Rockwell, and other illustrators returned to the rustic old man in the 1920s, the figure carried new and arguably less challenging connotations.

British Encounters with American Art

The Ashcan School paintings discussed in Douglas Tallack’s Urban Visual Culture course at the University of Nottingham were, for me, the hook. I was enthralled by the way that my growing knowledge of the history of chaotic, cosmopolitan, early-twentieth-century New York opened up the complex legibility of these works. Coming to American studies after having previously read English and philosophy, I was surprised to be spending my time looking at art. However, while researching my thesis (“On the Cusp: Stephen Crane, George Bellows and Modernism”), as a Terra summer residency fellow, and in my postdoctoral career, I have sought to catch up on both art history practice and the history of American art. I now teach in the School of American and Canadian Studies at Nottingham, where I offer courses entitled The Emergence of Mass Culture and American Realisms. My journey, from novice to teacher—or novice teacher—in less than a decade represents a fairly intense encounter with American art. But it also suggests a trajectory, from initial fascination to a more informed engagement, relevant to encounters of other kinds. At Nottingham, visual art forms one element of our interdisciplinary Thought and Culture survey and is also taught in specialist options, such as those named above and Celeste-Marie Bernier’s course African American Visual Culture. Both approaches are used at other U.K. American studies undergraduate programs: at the University of Leicester, painting and photography are discussed in courses exploring the City and the West; at King’s College London, Shamoon Zamir leads secondand final-year options titled Visual Culture: An Introduction and Photography USA; and at the University of Winchester, Carol Smith asks the students who take her Picturing a Nation course to reflect on the discourse surrounding recent exhibitions of American art in Europe. At these and other programs, American art is explored in an interdisciplinary American studies framework, with all the attendant benefits and dangers. American art also appears in U.K. university curricula within art history programs. Typically offered as options for secondand final-year students who have already taken the introduction to Western art, these courses tend to be specific in period or thematic focus. While the emphasis is often post-1945, as in the New York School course at the University of Leeds, Michael Hatt examines an earlier moment in Modern American Art, 1900–1930 at the University of Warwick, and Andrew Hemingway teaches Inventing the Americans: Issues in Nineteenth-Century American Art and Culture at University College London. While sharing the common difficulty of teaching the subject at some distance from its objects and archives, art history and American studies programs in Britain provide distinct disciplinary frames for American art. In the opening sessions of my Realisms module, I have to combine discussion of Thomas Eakins’s career with a crash course in how to read a painting, but when we come to social realism I can rely on existing knowledge of the Depression and the New Deal. Teaching students with strong foundations in methodology and with the background provided by the course The Traditions and Institutions of Western Art, Michael Hatt includes novels and cultural histories on his reading lists to provide context of earlytwentieth-century America. Both situations demand that teachers think closely about what American art requires. As yet, U.K. academics have not concluded that encounters with American art need to be framed by an American art survey. A trawl through teaching syllabuses reveals no evidence of such a course being taught. Anecdotally, at least, this approach appears to work. Students find ways of discussing the images they are shown in class, and in the courses I teach and moderate, I have read outstanding essays on racial stereotypes in early-twentieth-century advertising imagery, Edward Hopper’s sense of space and place, and historical references