Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera

Norman Rockwell painted American culture with a remarkable realism.  Renowned for his ability to capture the nuances of everyday life, his body of work includes such iconic images as “Rosie the Riveter” and “The Four Freedoms.”  The exhibition “Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera” at the Brooklyn Museum, organized by the Norman Rockwell Museum and guest curator, Ken Shick, delves unapologetically into the mind of one of America’s most celebrated artists. 

Beginning in the 1930s, Rockwell employed photography as a logical aid to bring his imagination to life. Acting not as the photographer but artistic director, he meticulously staged every aspect of his illustration. Amateur models, props, and makeshift sets all became an integral part of his artistic vision. Sometimes taking as many as 100 pictures for one painting, Rockwell would borrow a leg from one photograph, a facial expression from another, and arrange the pieces like a jigsaw puzzle to realize his final composition. “Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera” explores the photographs that inspired his characteristic hypperealistic style. In the process, the exhibition illuminates Rockwell's distinguished gift for narrative and character, providing a new understanding of his artistic process and ultimately, his popular appeal.

Throughout the exhibition, there are number of media that catch the eye. Black and white photographs, magazine covers, sketches, paintings, and even a re-sized Colorama adorn the warm crimson walls of the exhibition’s five rectangular chambers. These small, darkly-hued chambers are equipped with over 100 photographs, imparting a sense of claustrophobia that takes some getting used to. To offset the spatial and visual confinement, a stark ice blue atrium sits at the central chamber of the rectilinear space for seemingly the sole purpose of providing some much needed brightness. As one enters the vestibule, the four major players –photographers Gene Pelham, Bill Scovill, Louie Lamone and Norman Rockwell himself—are introduced, perhaps, to remind the visitor that the images to follow are intended not to spotlight Rockwell's final, perfected product but rather, his uniquely collaborative artistic process.

Once the eye has adjusted to the seemingly controlled chaos of the space, the eye must be re-trained once more. In “Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera” the visitor is meant to view every photograph or series of photographs in conjunction with the final work. The photographs, never intended to be displayed, are typically unpolished and spartan. Yet, the simple white backdrops and rudimentary props contained within the frames offer a quiet and penetrating beauty. Rockwell’s pragmatic photos can actually be viewed as art in themselves: the collisions of function and form, at its best. While viewing each photograph and its corresponding final work, it becomes abundantly clear how careful—borderline obsessive—Rockwell was in capturing the perfect expressions of American life.

            Viewing the exhibition quickly becomes an exercise in determining what was gained and lost in the translation from photograph to painting. In some instances, the photographs evoke a depth of feeling that is caricatured and stifled in the actual illustrations.  As Ken Johnson opines in the New York Times exhibition review “His Path From Shutter to Paintbrush,” “The photographs have a chilly psychological subtlety that is muffled in the paintings.” Take Rockwell’s piece “The River Pilot,” for example, which was originally the cover of the Saturday Evening Post in September of 1940. The illustration depicts a Herculean man, tall and broad with jet-black hair, fiercely gazing into in the horizon as he heroically steers the wheel of a boat. In the adjoining studio photograph, this Herculean man appears to be anything but. The amateur model is gazing out the window of a dimly lit set. His jet-black hair is, in reality, gray and balding. The handle of his steering wheel is but a piece of plywood. His determined stare into the horizon is replaced by a look of vulnerable introspection.  The photograph suggests a deep emotion that is clearly, lost in the translation. While the photograph conveys the quiet vulnerability of one gazing out into the horizon and by extension, the future, the final illustration is idealized and heroic, lacking this humanity.

Viewing “The River Pilot” along with the many of other spectacular studio photographs brings into focus the ethical questions that come along with displaying such a collection—questions which are only faintly addressed in the labels and by art critic Ken Johnson.  Those curating the exhibition do not hide the fact that Norman Rockwell was embarrassed by his use of photography and believed it to be a betrayal of his artistic principles. There is a sense of guilt that accompanies viewing this collection. One cannot help but wonder if the curators and the Brooklyn Museum are committing a disservice to the legacy of Norman Rockwell by showing images, which remove the illusion of realism and ultimately compete with the aesthetic beauty of his paintings.

Ken Johnson wryly quips that “Norman Rockwell must be rolling in his grave.” In his review he skirts the ethical issues that come with this type of display and lauds the exhibition “as a revelation” and ignores its greater implications. There were a number of areas where Johnson could have looked more critically at the exhibition, yet fails to do so. For instance, he largely avoids addressing the exhibition’s often confusing narrative thread.

To the curator’s credit, the final chamber truly concludes the exhibition on a high note.  The guilt, the unwarranted comparisons, and questioning all but disappear. Within this small room they exhibit two of Rockwell’s most evocative, provocative, and refined works: “The Problem We All Live With” and “The Final Impossibility.” Here, the juxtaposition of the studio photographs with their respective final products sums up the way the exhibition as a whole should be viewed and understood. The labels aptly contextualize the historical moment, which the paintings depict.  The media complement each other and seamlessly illustrate the evolution of Rockwell’s process from imagination to visual arrangement to the glorious final product.  

“Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera” may not have fully delivered, but nonetheless presents a wealth of information about Norman Rockwell and his ingenuity in translating American culture to canvas.