CHARLES BURCHFIELD,Vintage Art Masterpieces,Vintage Prints for Sale November Evening by CHARLES BURCHFIELD {American School}

November Evening by CHARLES BURCHFIELD {American School}


by {American School}


is one of those grim, gifted, independent “Americans
who take nothing for granted, essentially a Middle Westerner with a melancholy,

sharp-seeing interest in hard facts; He was reared in drab towns and

monotonous farnflands that no one loved.


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But the life of the midlands made
a profound impression upon him:  wretched architecture, the fields, and
the forlorn vistas of unoccupied earth;

the stern farmers and their sad, patient
wives; and the social gatherings of ragged villages.’ In his late twenties, after
some schooling in art at-Cleveland, Burchfield, a tailor’s son born in Ohio

exhibited in New York a collection of water colors of astonishing originality.

His first works-brilliant descriptive sketches with no traces of Continental
influences-brought painting down to earth, proclaimed the arrival of an

authentic American artist, and changed the direction of native painting.

Burchfield has faced life and extracted from it an art t1;t may be justly
termed his own. He has chosen subjects hitherto proscribed because they were
supposed to be provincial or intrinsically ugly-and he has not presented
them in rosy colors.

He has painted villages in winter, the coming of spring,
the season of halrvests, and fall plowing; he has painted the countryside with
a row of false-front stores straggling on one side of the highway; farmers in
T-model Fords; little towns on a Saturday afternoon-the epitome of tastes and starved ideals.

, an oil painting of the year 1932, is a powerful illustration of his most

representative mood, a mood engendered by experiences

which have taught him that life is neither classical nor charming; but, on the
other hand, neither despicable nor spiritually repellent. Those commonplace
scenes which Sinclair Lewis has publicized with ostentatious disapproval, and
with a satirical particularization which has convinced Europeans of the pre­
vailing vulgarity of small-town life in America, Burchfield has approached
in another vein. He has made his backgrounds descriptively true,

but he has
also revealed them in a bleakness that is rich and strange; and beneath the
loneliness and shabby monotony, he has created a mood of nake~,haunting
grandeur. He has surrounded his subjects with a tragic atmosphere-the
tragedy of barren living ; in him the vast unloveliness of rural America strikes
home and becomes material for the expression of his poetic view of common


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