Tag Archives: Norman Rockwell

The Norman Rockwell Museum

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The Norman Rockwell Museum tells the story of Rockwell’s life and work through his paintings. There are three large floor to ceiling walls of framed magazine covers. So many that it’s almost overwhelming.

A film tells his life story.

There’s also a full gallery of his paintings including some that seemed kind of obscure to me and others that are almost infamous.

One of the reasons I like Rockwell’s work is that he had a way of telling stories of everyday life with only imagery. You can tell what they’re thinking and feeling and you don’t need a card next to it on the wall to know exactly what’s happening. It’s a study on the beauty of life.

This is one of my favorites. From November 1945, it’s titled “Thanksgiving: Mother and Son Peeling Potatoes.” He gives us a seemingly simple scene. They’re in the kitchen, chatting while he helps her prepare the meal.

He’s a soldier, freshly home and still in his uniform but he’s wearing civilian shoes. He seems content to be back in the warmth of his mother’s kitchen but the chair he’s perched on looks too small.

He has outgrown it somehow but he sits with feet up like a little boy would.

Look closer.

He has creases in his forehead and lines on his hands. The time away has aged him. The young man has returned home a soldier. Look at how natural and realistic his hands are. It’s almost like a photo.

Now consider his mother. This is the face of a woman who has spent many a sleepless night praying for her son. In this moment, she can scarcely believe he’s here. Look at the way she gazes at him as though she wonders if this is a dream.

Their surroundings tell a story of harvest and abundance with a pan of cranberries and a pumpkin on the floor. Is that a bushel basket of apples? A mixing bowl, preserves, a couple of oranges and that bright pop of red in the tablecloth tell a story of country folk who will use what they have to make this the best Thanksgiving they’ve ever known.

But her soldier is home so it will be the very best even if the potatoes turn out lumpy.

This is true Americana and it really is one of my favorite paintings of his. But there are so many more.

Like this one of a lineman in 1947.

And a coal miner in 1944.

They both look like they could step off the canvas and set down the road toward home.

Of course, everyone clamors to see this fifties era view of Stockbridge, his adopted hometown. It’s one of his most requested and recognizable works.

He used models. Often the models were folks right there in the county. Some he used more than once.

His paintings tend to tell the stories of the small towns and the dying ways of the people who made this country great with their heads bowed in prayer, their hands grimy from hard work, and their eyes raised up in hope for the future.

He made a series called “The Four Freedoms” based on President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s declaration that the U.S. would fight for:

Freedom of Speech.

Freedom of Worship.

Freedom of Fear.

And Freedom of Want.

So, friends, this was the inspiration for our trip to Stockbridge, Massachusetts and I am so glad we went.

There are many more paintings I could share with you today but I’m thinking we may hold onto a few to revisit some winter day when we are all itching to hit the road.

Want to visit this museum? Click here for their website.

Norman Rockwell’s Stockbridge Studio

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Several months ago I read a story about the town where Norman Rockwell said he found some of his best inspiration. The story promoted a quaint New England town and a Norman Rockwell Museum where visitors could get to know more about the man and his work.

While Norman Rockwell has become something of a cliche to many, I tend to think his storytelling is genius and that our society could benefit from a good dose of small town innocence.

So, off we went to Stockbridge, Massachusetts in the Berkshires. This town of 2,000 residents is a year round attraction known for access to outdoor activities, small town charm, and a handful of famous folks who once made their home here.

Rockwell’s first Stockbridge studio was in the upstairs of a building that now is home to a cafe (also the same building that was home to the famed Alice’s Restaurant). He moved to the area and set up shop here when his wife came to Stockbridge for medical care.

It has north facing windows on the second floor that overlook the Main Street and would be quite the window out on the world. What I wouldn’t give for a morning of writing and people watching from that space! While he rented this studio space, he set out to have renovated an 1830s carriage house in the yard of his home in town.

This would be his creative space beginning in 1957 until his death 21 years later. He adopted Stockbridge as his hometown and said some of his best work originated here. Most of his important social commentary work was done here in this studio.

The studio is no longer located in Stockbridge. That’s because it was loaded onto a flatbed truck and moved to the campus of the Norman Rockwell Museum in 1986.

We toured the studio before we went through the museum and had a wonderful tour guide.

He shared with us that the museum looks much the same as it did when Rockwell worked here, aside from the fact it is now perched on a rural hillside instead of in town. His easel is set up as though waiting for the master to return from lunch. His paints and brushes are on the table.

His radio and phone too.

Rockwell was a fastidious housekeeper who our tour guide said cleaned his studio several times a day. This seemed odd to me given how messy most artists are but fitting giving how squeaky clean his storytelling was. The space is light and pleasant and I can see why he said it was his best studio of all the twenty or so he worked in.

I lingered at the end of the tour and remained for a moment after everyone else had filed out. It was easy to imagine that Rockwell had just stepped out and that I might be able to perch on the couch while he began his next painting.

The property has walking trails which we didn’t take advantage of and a world class museum that we enjoyed thoroughly. I’ll take you to the museum next time.

A Walk Around Stockbridge, Massachusetts

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Our first glimpse of Stockbridge, Massachusetts came as the sun was slipping below the horizon. Rocking chairs on the porch of The Red Lion Inn were all occupied but the sidewalks appeared empty.

This is the kind of town where you might joke that they roll up the sidewalks at supper time and there is some element of truth to that joke. The thing is, that quiet and slowness is part of the undeniable charm of the place.

The sky was pink with streaks of orange as we traveled through town, admiring the tree lined streets and magnificent old stone churches. We stayed in nearby Great Barrington and got to enjoy a fiery orange sky along the wooded route just before the sky descended into pure darkness.

This is a place where you can still see the stars at night. It was all so mesmerizing I didn’t think to take a single photo to remember it by.

It was chilly that evening as we lugged all our stuff into the Marriott which would be our home away from home for the week. The next day, we delighted at the mist rising over the mountains in the early light.

We had tickets for the Norman Rockwell Museum and studio at 11 a.m. but first we went for a stroll around Stockbridge.

Here we found a couple of older gentlemen already sitting in the Adirondack chairs outside the library and a cafe packed with early diners. A few fallen leaves gathered at the feet of the stone lions outside the inn and enormous old homes in groves of trees beckoned for our attention.

There was a good bit of traffic that morning but motorists are mostly courteous to pedestrians. Plus, the sidewalks are wide with plenty of shade making for truly pleasant walking conditions.

Everything is old but it’s well tended and there’s a sense of respect for what has always been. Taking care of what you have is a way of life and one that is increasingly rare in this country.

The sign outside this place said 1850.

I liked it.

I liked it all.

I liked the old cemetery in town and the character of old houses. I liked the way delivery truck drivers held traffic so we could cross the street. I liked the way store clerks so carefully wrapped our treasures because we were clearly visiting and needed to get them home safe. I liked the way things are so laid back literally no one cares what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone.

The place is calm and calming. There’s history everywhere you look and people who, in their very rural laidback ways, are glad to make your day better.

There’s a reason why Norman Rockwell stayed. There’s a reason why so many people who live there are transplants. It feels like your hometown even when you have been there for just a minute.

Tomorrow I’ll take you to one of my favorite places in town. Hint: it’s an old church. You had to know I would find one of those on this trip!

Home From A Much Needed Vacation

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When I left Ohio two Saturdays ago, my jaw was clenched tight and my white knuckles held the steering wheel like I was the only thing preventing it from falling off the car. It had been too long since I got in a quiet car and headed out for a longer adventure. 

My attention span had been short and my fuse perhaps a little shorter for a while. I live in a world governed by emails, agendas and a buzzing phone. I hate the sound of my phone and the word agenda is one of the most obnoxious in the English language. 

To be on the road and out adventuring without a real plan is one of the best parts of traveling. 

It took three days for my jaw and fists to relax and another day to spot the wild haired, bright eyed Brandi that thoroughly enjoys the world. 

And then I woke up in the Berkshires of Massachusetts where the mountains feel almost like a cradle for anyone needing nurturing and calm. 

Let me tell you something, friends. It took some coaxing to get me to leave.

There’s a sensibility about that area that appeals to me. There’s a combination of wealthy transplants, tourists, and generational blue collar residents who keep everything working. People seemed mostly fit and happy, enjoying active lifestyle hobbies like walking, hiking, bird watching and kayaking. There’s also a rural sensibility that appealed to my own ways and made me wish for more time. I was there with my eastern travel pal and we agreed that we needed more time because there was so much we wished to to do. 

Where I live, even country folk have big yards that are mown right up to the road like small golf courses. In that area, you see a lot of country houses where there’s a break in the trees for a driveway to a house that’s reasonably close to the road but disguised by a tree row or a thicket of wild looking shrubbery. There’s no need for a giant lawn that invites attention from the road when privacy is clearly valued so much here. Yet, short driveways make sense in a place that averages six feet of annual snowfall. 

Norman Rockwell made his home here for the last several years of his life. He came because his wife was sent to Stockbridge for medical treatment. He stayed because he found most of his inspiration here. 

And I can see why. 

The town streets are tree lined. People are just naturally welcoming and seem to genuinely want you to enjoy wherever you are and what you’re doing. They are not overtly friendly, in that fake nice way that you get in a lot of places. They seem genuinely glad to know you traveled a long way to visit their community. 

Everywhere you look in Stockbridge, there’s a pocket park or a set of chairs inviting you to stay a while.

Being there past Labor Day meant that we missed the high season so it was quieter than a summer tourist might experience but it was also cheaper. While it was still busy enough, it was quiet. 

It felt a little fall like for most of our visit and we even had a nice gloomy day that ended with rain showers one evening.  Consequently, there were places we could spot patches of yellow and red leaves, hinting at the beauty that is just around the corner in New England. 

We did lots of things in the Stockbridge area. We also rustled up some fun going to and from. After all, it’s a long trip by car from my friend’s Pittsburgh home and we both tend to believe the journey is the destination.

In other words, driving a straight line isn’t really our thing and we’ve never met a situation that didn’t call for a trip around the block to see what’s what. Sometimes she just rolls forward a foot or so at a traffic light so we can get a better look at pretty buildings like this house in Altoona.

Something tells me that this trip’s stories will be bubbling up for a while. I already feel the calm and the embrace of the Berkshires dissipating from my consciousness like an early morning fog. Luckily there are pictures and memories to help me revisit those moments from time to time. Plus, I have stories to share with you, friends. 

Revisiting Old Favorites

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Art museums tend to be favorite destinations of mine simply because you never know what you might find. Adam and I hit up the Columbus Museum of Art over Memorial Day weekend and saw all kinds of curiosities and beautiful objects.

I like seeing new things but always look forward to seeing some specific pieces like this gorgeous, larger than life Chihuly piece. The space it’s in is gorgeous and drenched in light making it the perfect spot for a glass exhibit.

I’m also partial to this Norman Rockwell painting. He is too broadly viewed as a cliche in my opinion and I think he deserves more credit for the stunning details in his slice of life paintings.

This piece always excites me as well. It’s called “The Little White Church,” a carved and painted wood relief made by Elijah Pierce in 1936. I see something new with every viewing.

 Museums are also a great place to people watch. They rightfully don’t like when guests get too close to the artwork but there were a number of people ignoring that rule. We saw one gentleman taking selfies with busts and paintings, standing close enough he very easily could have fallen into any of the artwork he was trying to photograph. 

This gentleman appeared to be photographing every piece in the museum. The wall color in this room was exceptional and really made the 15th century Tuscan processional cross pop!

Seeing how people interact with the art is fascinating to me. Do they stroll through? What grabs their attention and makes them stand and stare? What motivates them to like or dislike a thing? People are interesting and what they like or dislike is a window into their personalities.

I will note that museum admission is free on Sundays so that’s a great opportunity to check it out. However, it’s important to note that lots of people take advantage of this deal and it tends to be busy. People allowing their young children to roam and run freely among the art made me nervous. It’s worth the price of weekday admission to be there when it’s quieter.

However, if you’ve never been to an art museum and don’t want to invest in tickets, this is a wonderful way to just go look around and see what the fuss is about!

There is a fee for parking but they will valdiate if you spend that amount at the cafe or gift shop. Check out their website here to learn about current exhibitions, hours and more.

There is also a modern art wing. I’ll take you there tomorrow.

Norman Rockwell’s Thanksgiving

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It’s Thanksgiving in America. This is meant to be a day of thanks for the blessings we’ve enjoyed for the last year but it’s more a day of food and football. Tomorrow, as folks will spend the day buying a bunch of stuff they probably don’t need and can’t afford.

A Norman Rockwell painting we are not.

This painting is called “Home For Thanksgiving.” It was featured on the November 24, 1945 cover of The Saturday Evening Post. That was 77 years ago today.

The young man and his mother were real people. He was freshly home from the war and helping his mother with chores he likely would have hated doing in the Army Air Corps. Kitchen Patrol or KP duty probably didn’t seem so bad in the warmth of his mama’s kitchen.

Rockwell paid them each $15 to sit for the portrait. I read once that they owned the local dairy in their Vermont small town and that the young man was Rockwell’s milkman.

This painting was donated to the Eugene M. Connor Post 193 of the American Legion in Massachusetts many years ago. But they didn’t know it was an original and left it hanging in a hallway for decades. When someone offered $500 for what the Legion thought was a print, they took it to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Massachusetts for appraisal.

After learning they owned an American treasure, they loaned it to the museum for display and safekeeping.

Just last year, the Legion sold it at auction for $4.3 million. This hefty sum went into a trust and interest earned will help pay bills and fund future repairs for the Legion.

It’s a beautiful slice of Americana and I like how it illustrates a nation transitioning from wartime into peacetime. Something so everyday like peeling potatoes probably felt almost luxurious to the soldier and his mother who had suffered untold sleepless nights in his absence.

Her relief is palpable.

Gratitude would have been the only thing that mattered in many households across the nation that Thanksgiving. Our soldiers were headed home. Life was returning to a new normal. Life was good.

Wherever you are in this world today, I hope life is good. Happy Thanksgiving!