Download the PDF
version of this article if you wish to view it or print it out
with the same formatting as appears in the print version of the
Rocky Mountain Review.
(Requires Adobe Acobat
Reader.)
Ruth L. Bohan. Looking into Walt Whitman: American Art, 1850-1920.
University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006. 261p.
Paul Milton
University of British Columbia -- Okanagan
Not by accident does Walt Whitman have one of the most easily recognizable faces in
19th-century American literature; as a keen sitter for portrait photographers, Whitman
ensured that his image would be available as an adjunct to his words, often adorning
the various editions and revisions of Leaves of Grass published during his lifetime.
Indeed, his affection and fascination for visual culture goes much farther than simply
a concern for self-representation, as Ruth Bohan demonstrates in this historical look
at Whitman's engagement with contemporary visual artists and his enduring presence in
the work of American modernists in the 30 years following his death.
Bohan's project began as an investigation into Whitman's reception among visual artists
active in New York during the first 20 years of the 20th century but acquired a broader
focus as she learned more about his active involvement with his contemporaries. The book
measures Whitman's involvement against the changing circumstances of his life and career;
it represents Whitman's role in American art as growing and transforming in the same
organic way he imagined his poetic role evolving. It examines all facets of Whitman's
role in visual art from object of the gaze to catalyst for modernist exploration.
Although a great deal of attention has been paid to Whitman's fascination with photography
and his own photographic image, Bohan emphasizes that his involvement with the visual
culture of the 19th century was much more broadly based. During the long foreground to
the appearance of the first edition of Leaves of Grass in 1855, Whitman was active
in a variety of ways in the burgeoning New York City arts scene. At the time, New York
was supplanting Boston and Philadelphia as the pre-eminent marketplace for artwork in
America. Whitman befriended artists, frequented galleries, advocated for arts
organizations such as the Brooklyn Arts Union and wrote about art in various newspapers.
Along with some of his friends in the Free Soil movement, Whitman championed the arts
community as a vital concomitant of a healthy democracy. He also shared William
Cullen Bryant's commitment to the Horatian ideal of the "sister arts" as celebrated by
Hudson River School painter Asher Durand in the painting Kindred Spirits.
With reference to W.J.T. Mitchell's concept of "imagetext" which refers to a composite piece
fusing image and text, Bohan explores Whitman's fascination with portraiture and its
relationship to his self-constructions in the various avatars of the lifelong poem.
Indeed, Bohan seems to mirror Whitman's fusion of image and text with a generous
sampling of the portraits to interact with her contextualizing historical narrative and
her insightful readings of the various constructions of the poet. The often contradictory
portrait representations become for her the multitudes contained by the Whitmanian self
in "Song of Myself," the multifarious facets of the democratic self.
But for me the most striking reading of the Whitmanian presence in a 19th-century artwork
comes in relation to a painting in which Whitman does not appear at all, Thomas Eakins'
The Concert Singer. The portrait represents Weda Cook, an opera singer and one of
the earliest musical interpreters of Whitman's poetry. In reading this portrait of a
solitary singer known to both Eakins and Whitman, Bohan traces a subtly encoded homage
to the poet himself as complex as the relationship between the two men.
In the second half of the book, Bohan traces elements of interactions between Whitman and the
first generation of American modernists. In Whitman, some modernists found "a refreshingly
vital spirit of wholeness and personal possibility." But some of Whitman's surviving disciples
such as William Sloane Kennedy and Horace Traubel provided a tangible link with the good
gray poet for early 20th-century Greenwich Village artists, most notably Marsden Hartley.
Bohan sees a coded narrative of Whitman's ideal of manly comradeship in Hartley's
spirit-infused landscapes and visionary sexuality. Hartley, who painted pictures of
both of Whitman's Camden houses and named one of his landscapes after Whitman's poem
"Proud Music of the Storm," here acts as a transition figure who merges Whitmanian
sympathies with the discursive practices of modernism. Similarly, Bohan locates Whitman's
populist touch in Robert Coady's journal The Soil, which rejected the elitist elements
of artistic modernism in favor of a celebration of the body, popular culture, and the
technological advancements of the day. The final key modernist to reflect the Whitmanian
spirit is Italian immigrant Joseph Stella who had read Whitman before immigrating from
Italy in 1896 and who could quote long passages of the poetry. Stella would develop
a fusion of Whitman and Italian futurism in his art and perhaps speaks to Whitman most
clearly in his paintings of the Brooklyn Bridge, the successor to Whitman's Brooklyn Ferry
as a symbolic space for the transcendence of difference in a common humanity.
Bohan's book is both comprehensive in sweep and compellingly narrative in form. The one major
difficulty it presents to the reader lies in the overwhelming number of names she links
with Whitman; the reader would be well served by a background in American art history
of the 19th century. But there is little need to know the paintings since the book is
generously illustrated with all the relevant images discussed in the text, from the
familiar "The Trapper's Bride" to lesser-known contemporary cartoons. Her treatment
of Whitman portraits is also impressively comprehensive, and her readings of various
paintings insightful and very creative.
|