The Beauty of Homer

We expected to enjoy the Homer exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and chose opening time on a Sunday to visit, hoping that it would be less crowded at that time. I had heard of people standing several rows deep just to get a look at a painting and was hoping to have better access. It was worth waiting outside in the frigid January temperatures to do this.

His paintings are beautiful and skilled, of course, creating lush watercolors that evoke many of the seaside and landscapes that mark his work. Because he lived in places that I have visited in Maine, Massachusetts and New York State, it is particularly easy to put myself there, to imagine seeing what he is seeing. 

What I did not expect was the way in which his view felt so honest, so free of judgement, and so respectful of his subject. It made me aware that every artist chooses what they put on a canvas or panel, no matter how realistically they decide to represent that scene. Or whether it is completely born of the riches of imagination. 

Sometimes people want to evoke a feeling, or make a political or personal statement. Sometimes they are painting from a place of solitude, or reflection, anger or questioning. What was so striking about Homer’s work was the seeming ease with which he represented what he saw without trying to sway the viewer to relate to it in any particular way.

I hadn’t realized that he had early training painting for magazines, so there was a sense of journalistic objectivity at times, but still there carried a sympathetic sense of what he was seeing. He was not trying to portray people in any way other than what they were. For this reason, it was satisfying in a particularly relaxing way, even if the image itself had motion or even the tension of high waters around a small boat. It is the beauty and reverence for his subjects that came through in such a sweeping, gracious way.

I also love the fact that we had to make special arrangements and set a time to be there. I love that people are so interested and passionate about seeing the work of this artist, that the day was sold out of available times. I worry that the messages of the arts are sometimes lost, but clearly the love of them is alive and people are voting with their feet by being present, and being available to see and feel what comes up when bearing witness to profound artistry. I’m even glad there were other people there when we visited, demonstrating this passion: a mom picking up her child in order to see a painting better, or a couple gazing at a frame in companionable silence, each with private thoughts. It would be a special experience to be there with no one around, and to be able to spend as much time as one wished to gaze at the nuances of a frame.

Of course, you are funneled into the gift shop before you return to the rest of the museum, and there is so much temptation to buy socks, jewelry, mugs or bags with the memory of those gorgeous places on them. And not feel bad about it because you are supporting an institution committed to preserving and showing these outstanding works. Consumerism at its least annoying, for me.

The cherry on top was the huge backdrop as you leave the exhibit into which you can insert yourself with a canoe in front, so you, too, can be part of a Homer painting. I cannot resist these kinds of photos, even when they are corny, put-your-head-in-the-lobster face or the face of people from another time or dimension. I would have worn something more color coordinated had I been aware of this option, but it will have to live on in my checked flannel shirt. At least my husband, in his gray jacket picks up hues of the sky, and his brick orange shirt is reflected in the field just behind us. I am glad to have this delightful reminder of the genius that is Homer.