Tea for three? - art across the curriculum

Arts & Activities, June, 2001 by Tara Cady Sartorius

Imagine waking up in New York City in 1922. The local diner has adequate coffee, so you go and sit in a darkish corner, trying to wake up. Across the room you see three elderly women having breakfast. Something about them strikes a chord, and you make a quick sketch on a napkin.

Later in your studio you reconstruct the scene adding color from both memory and imagination, making it more real than it was in the cafe where it all began. This could very well have been the manner in which George Luks (1866-1933) developed this painting.

A scene such as this could barely get more commonplace. In titling this work Tea Party, Luks has exposed the sense of humor and irony so prevalent in his life. He pokes fun at the upper classes, while paying homage to common humanity. His portrait is sympathetic, almost caring.

One usually thinks of a tea party as a festive occasion, but this gathering is one that may have occurred on a daily basis. The women seem well acquainted, they take solace in one another's company. They seem to be talking, but just barely, which Luks conveys by their faces not quite facing one another. These women are individual people, but they also embody a category, or type of person: the survivor of World War I, the widow, the matron who lives on and on.

The design of their silhouettes against the light background with full windows is reminiscent of a Japanese screen. Luks was a mature artist at the turn of the century, and was well aware of the American interest in Asian art at that time. He carries some of those thoughts forward in this work.

The three figures are loosely brushed against the green-tinged foreground, dark at the bottom and getting lighter and lighter as the muted sun comes through the windows and up the walls. Luks' quick brush gestures (most obvious below the seat of the chair on the right) cut a general swath around the figures, both isolating and uniting them. The theatrical lighting and the close cropping of the scene hold these women together with absolute finality.

This painting begs for narrative. George Luks was a consummate storyteller and he even wove his own story about himself. His life is still a bit of a mystery, even to those who have studied him carefully. He left very few written clues for avid biographers, and took pleasure in embellishing tales about himself to unbelievable degrees.

When asked questions about his life, he would dismiss or avoid answering seriously by offering humorous--sometimes even ridiculous--retorts. He was a heavy drinker, and preferred the company of those in poorer circumstances than his own. The fact that he died of injuries acquired during a barroom brawl is an apt finish to his self-promulgated bohemian legend.

It is documented that he was born in Williamsport, Pa., and grew up around coal miners who were treated by his father, the local doctor. Many of Luks' family members had artistic inclinations, either in painting, music or vaudeville. His formal training was very spotty and short-lived (for example, at age 17 he attended Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts for one term) and Luks preferred to teach himself by visiting European museums or by keeping company with fellow-artists.

At age 26, Luks traveled to Spain where he saw the works of Goya and Velasquez, both of whom influenced his painting style and subject matter. In emulating his new-found artistic models, Luks became a champion of the underdog.

He returned to Philadelphia and began working as a newspaper illustrator. While working for the Philadelphia Free Press he met William Glackens, John Sloan and Everett Shinn. These three friends introduced him to the charismatic and influential teacher, Robert Henri, who often invited them all to his home for artistic discussions.

In 1896 Luks, age 30, moved to New York City, and his artistic friends followed. The next two years were fraught with commotion for Luks as he vacillated between newspaper work (both illustrations and comics) and freelance painting. By 1898, however, he was able to completely support himself through the sale of his paintings, an income he augmented with the occasional illustration job. Luks' participation in the famous and pivotal exhibition at Macbeth Galleries in 1908 earned him his rightful place as one of "The Eight."

The Eight (Henri, Glackens, Sloan, Davies, Prendergast, Luks, Lawson and Shinn) marked the beginning of modern American realism. Their leader, Robert Henri, sought to capture the life and spirit of his subjects. In Tea Party, Luks has obliged his mentor by capturing the specific and the general all in one.

Luks' painted forms are really thickened lines, carded over from his old newspaper days when quick sketches were of the essence. But in painting there can be color, and Luks has applied indigo tones, with red and blue variants, all across the canvas. The woman in the background eats a cookie or cracker and sips soup or porridge with a spoon. The faded flower in her hat might be the only festive element in this party.