Happy New Year! It almost feels strange to be updating the blog again, but in a good way. As it turned out, taking a hiatus in December was probably the best thing I could have done, since my regular job was (and still is) a bit topsy-turvy. This unfortunately meant that I didn't really get to go much of anywhere, and I definitely didn't get to collect any new markers. But even so, it's good to be back. I hope all of my readers had a wonderful holiday season.
Meanwhile, for today we'll take a run back to beautiful Lancaster, where I hope to be in several weeks, and learn about a local artist and his unique local roots.
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The marker stands in front of the
Demuth Museum at 120 East King Street
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Charles Demuth was a member of Lancaster's well-to-do Demuth family, owners of the oldest tobacco shop in the United States. It dates back to 1770, when Christopher Demuth manufactured and sold snuff and cigars. The shop was then handed down through generations of the Demuth family, providing tobacco products to prominent Lancaster citizens like James Buchanan,
Thaddeus Stevens, and
General Edward Hand. Eventually it passed into the hands of Christopher's great-great-grandson, also named Christopher, whose widow ultimately had to sell the business due to health problems. The shop continued to operate under the family's name, however, serving as a meeting place as well as tobacco shop, until it finally closed in 2010. The shop, situated at 114 East King Street, is occasionally used for special events by the Demuth Foundation (more on that later in the post), and a window display provides all this information.
Charles, the subject of today's blog post, was also a great-great-grandson of the original tobacconist. He was born in 1883 on North Lime Street in Lancaster, and later moved to the house on King Street where his family sold tobacco; he remained there for most of his life. Unlike his father Ferdinand, uncle Henry, and cousin Christopher, Charles didn't get involved in the family business very much. As a child, he developed a hip infirmity, the exact nature of which is unknown; it's thought that he either suffered an accident or may have contracted polio. Whatever the case, the ailment required him to be in traction for several weeks and then a full year of bed rest. To keep the small boy entertained while he couldn't get out of bed, he was given watercolor paints, and his life was changed forever.
The photo at left shows Charles as a boy in the Demuth tobacco shop, in or around the year 1890. This is a picture of a picture, so I apologize for the glare; it was part of the display in that window I mentioned. The photographer's identity - I mean, the original one, not me - is unknown. The two men with him are also not identified.
Charles never enjoyed great health. The hip infirmity caused him permanent difficulties in walking all his life, requiring him to use a cane, and as an adult he developed diabetes as well. He was his parents' only child, and remained in the house on King Street with his mother after his father's death. Like many people with health problems, he took solace in the arts, and his early use of watercolor turned into a lifelong passion. As a young man he attended Franklin & Marshall Academy (today Franklin & Marshall College) in Lancaster, and then also studied his craft at Drexel University and the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts. He then went to Paris, where he pursued his art even further with courses at the Académie Colarossi and Académie Julian, and while in that city he joined the avante garde art movement and became friends with many other American artists; one of his closest friends was Georgia O'Keefe. Among his friends he was known as "Deem," because of the way he preferred to pronounce his last name (Deem-youth, rather than Dee-myouth).
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Charles's most famous painting,
courtesy of WikiCommons |
Charles's most famous painting is a piece called
I Saw the Figure Five in Gold. It was inspired by a poem written by his close friend, William Carlos Williams, called "
The Great Figure." According to an article in
The Wall Street Journal, Williams had gone to visit their mutual friend, artist Marsden Hartley, and while he was waiting for Hartley to answer the door, a fire truck whizzed past and Williams caught a glimpse of the number five painted on the side in gold. He wrote the poem, Charles made the painting, and today it hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's one of many pieces in which he embraced the modernism movement; it's also considered a forerunner to pop art. He intended it to be part of a series of ten "poster portraits" to honor the work of his closest artist and writer friends, six of which were completed; reviewers have sometimes struggled to recognize exactly how the subjects are being illustrated in the art.
In addition to his time in Paris, Charles frequently went to New York City to see his fellow artists, and also visited Bermuda, which appears in some of his pieces. But despite his travels, Charles remained deeply attached to Lancaster, and honored it in many of his works, particularly later in his career. This includes another of his best-known works, My Egypt, which depicts a grain elevator as though it were a historic monument. Around 1915, a new artistic movement called "Precisionism" began to emerge, of which Charles was one of the major contributors. Charles did a series of seven paintings - not in watercolor, but in oil - depicting buildings in his beloved Lancaster, chiefly factories; these are among his largest works.
Charles died in the house on King Street on October 24, 1935, seen at left. As I've mentioned, his health was never robust, and in his final years he suffered greatly from complications from his diabetes. He's buried in Lancaster Cemetery with his parents, remaining forever in the city he loved so much. He willed many of his works to his dear friend Georgia O'Keefe, who is credited with strategically deciding which museums would receive them and thus creating his legacy. In Lancaster itself, his home is now home of the Demuth Museum, which is dedicated to Charles's work. In 2014 it joined with the Lancaster Museum of Art, on Lime Street, to create the Demuth Foundation; while both museums retain their individual identity and mission, they work together to (as their website says) promote "the visual arts in the community through educational programs, membership, and collaborative exhibitions and events." I wasn't able to go inside the museum because it's closed to the public in between installations, but as of this writing they have a new exhibit planned to open later this month, so check the website for details.
Meanwhile, in the
Lancaster City Visitor Center on Penn Square, you can find an interesting tribute to Charles. There is a room filled with portraits, most of them quite small, but four of them are much larger... and they talk to each other. President James Buchanan,
General John Reynolds, Charles Demuth, and a joint portrait of
Thaddeus Stevens and his housekeeper Lydia Hamilton Smith all sit quietly until movement alerts them to the presence of visitors. The portraits (which are of course not portraits at all, but video footage of modern actors who look
astonishingly like the historical figures) then interact with each other and encourage tourists to visit their homes and other significant locations in the city that was so dear to all of them. Charles's "portrait" can be seen at right, and I definitely encourage anyone who goes to the city to visit my friends at the Visitor Center. It's a delightful place and always a must-visit whenever I'm in town. Be sure to tell Charles and the others that I said hello.
Sources and Further Reading:
Author unknown. "Enigmatic portraits of Charles Demuth." American Artist, January 1995.
Except where indicated, all writing and photography on this blog is the intellectual property of Laura Klotz. This blog is written with permission of the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission. I am not employed by the PHMC. All rights reserved.
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