Lot Essay
A triumph of 20th Century American art, Tulips is representative of Charles Sheeler’s distinctly Modern, Precisionist sensibility, further informed by his passion for photography. The work depicts a view of the artist’s photography studio located at the Beaux-Arts Apartment Hotel in New York City, complete with a photographer’s lamp looming above the three tulip blossoms placed on a cylindrical pedestal. Tulips is an utterly complex composition—its precision magnified by the monochromatic palette—that demonstrates Sheeler’s ability to seamlessly work in a variety of artistic media.
The present work was executed in 1931, widely acknowledged as a crucial year in Sheeler’s career when he produced some of his most accomplished works, such as the present example. Among the first in a series of drawings executed in conté crayon that year, Tulips additionally belongs to a group of large-scale works depicting Sheeler’s photography studio. These compositions, including Cactus (1931; Philadelphia Museum of Art, Pennsylvania) and View of New York (1931; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Massachusetts), are often interpreted as artistic self-portraits. In contrast to these related oils, however, Sheeler’s use of conté crayon in the present work “enabled [him] to work with warm, sensuous textures and subtle gradations of black and white—qualities which, he said, came closest to the feeling of his photographs. Here, the carefully orchestrated tones create shadows whose presence is as vivid as the actual forms… the realistically rendered tulips and their ghostly shadows on the wall create an energy that belies the ordinariness of Sheeler’s subject.” (C. Troyen, “The Open Window and the Empty Chair: Charles Sheeler's View of New York,” The American Art Journal, vol. XVIII, no. 2, 1986, p. 27)
Indeed, the restrained palette of the present work demonstrates Sheeler’s mastery of the subtle effects of light. Tulips embodies the artist’s statement: “Am I a colorist?...If you want to look at it one way, I am not. Values undoubtedly come first with me—those relationships of light and shadow by which form is achieved. Color wouldn’t mean very much to me if it didn’t have the structure of values to support it.” (as quoted in M. Friedman, Charles Sheeler, New York, 1975, p. 91) Martin Friedman elaborates, “These cold, mechanical appurtenances of the photography studio exemplify the modernistic, chromed clarity of the 1930s and were ideal subjects for Sheeler’s fastidious rendering process.” (Charles Sheeler, p. 91)
An avid photographer himself, Sheeler not only includes tools of the medium in the present work but applies a photographic lens to his treatment of the work as well. According to Carol Troyen and Erica Hirshler, the present work was initially cropped about 1 ½ inches on the bottom following its inclusion in the artist’s 1939 retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, eliminating the original signature. “The drawing was then signed again, suggesting that the cropping may have been done by the artist himself, who during this period was actively engaged in matting and rematting his own photographs to adjust the proportions of the image...In fact, Sheeler signed the [present] work twice, indicating—as does the fact that the lower signature is incomplete—that he may have contemplated further cropping of the drawing.” (Charles Sheeler: Paintings, Drawings and Photographs, exhibition catalogue, Boston, Massachusetts, 1987, p. 128)
While a depiction of inanimate objects, Tulips is teeming with an eerie sense of life, a presence that is not immediately visible to the viewer. As Carol Troyen and Erica Hirshler observe, the photographer’s lamp itself is disconnected and the stark sources of light illuminating the glossy pedestal come from outside the composition, a source invisible to the viewer (Charles Sheeler: Paintings, Drawings and Photographs, exhibition catalogue, Boston, Massachusetts, 1987, p. 128). Further, by making the dark shadows of the tulips almost as prominent as the blossoms themselves, Sheeler creates a two-fold presence that highlights the juxtaposition of light and dark, the tangible and intangible.
Undoubtedly a masterwork of Sheeler’s career, Tulips represents the artist’s passion for photography, as well as his unparalleled attention to detail, line and light.
The present work was executed in 1931, widely acknowledged as a crucial year in Sheeler’s career when he produced some of his most accomplished works, such as the present example. Among the first in a series of drawings executed in conté crayon that year, Tulips additionally belongs to a group of large-scale works depicting Sheeler’s photography studio. These compositions, including Cactus (1931; Philadelphia Museum of Art, Pennsylvania) and View of New York (1931; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Massachusetts), are often interpreted as artistic self-portraits. In contrast to these related oils, however, Sheeler’s use of conté crayon in the present work “enabled [him] to work with warm, sensuous textures and subtle gradations of black and white—qualities which, he said, came closest to the feeling of his photographs. Here, the carefully orchestrated tones create shadows whose presence is as vivid as the actual forms… the realistically rendered tulips and their ghostly shadows on the wall create an energy that belies the ordinariness of Sheeler’s subject.” (C. Troyen, “The Open Window and the Empty Chair: Charles Sheeler's View of New York,” The American Art Journal, vol. XVIII, no. 2, 1986, p. 27)
Indeed, the restrained palette of the present work demonstrates Sheeler’s mastery of the subtle effects of light. Tulips embodies the artist’s statement: “Am I a colorist?...If you want to look at it one way, I am not. Values undoubtedly come first with me—those relationships of light and shadow by which form is achieved. Color wouldn’t mean very much to me if it didn’t have the structure of values to support it.” (as quoted in M. Friedman, Charles Sheeler, New York, 1975, p. 91) Martin Friedman elaborates, “These cold, mechanical appurtenances of the photography studio exemplify the modernistic, chromed clarity of the 1930s and were ideal subjects for Sheeler’s fastidious rendering process.” (Charles Sheeler, p. 91)
An avid photographer himself, Sheeler not only includes tools of the medium in the present work but applies a photographic lens to his treatment of the work as well. According to Carol Troyen and Erica Hirshler, the present work was initially cropped about 1 ½ inches on the bottom following its inclusion in the artist’s 1939 retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, eliminating the original signature. “The drawing was then signed again, suggesting that the cropping may have been done by the artist himself, who during this period was actively engaged in matting and rematting his own photographs to adjust the proportions of the image...In fact, Sheeler signed the [present] work twice, indicating—as does the fact that the lower signature is incomplete—that he may have contemplated further cropping of the drawing.” (Charles Sheeler: Paintings, Drawings and Photographs, exhibition catalogue, Boston, Massachusetts, 1987, p. 128)
While a depiction of inanimate objects, Tulips is teeming with an eerie sense of life, a presence that is not immediately visible to the viewer. As Carol Troyen and Erica Hirshler observe, the photographer’s lamp itself is disconnected and the stark sources of light illuminating the glossy pedestal come from outside the composition, a source invisible to the viewer (Charles Sheeler: Paintings, Drawings and Photographs, exhibition catalogue, Boston, Massachusetts, 1987, p. 128). Further, by making the dark shadows of the tulips almost as prominent as the blossoms themselves, Sheeler creates a two-fold presence that highlights the juxtaposition of light and dark, the tangible and intangible.
Undoubtedly a masterwork of Sheeler’s career, Tulips represents the artist’s passion for photography, as well as his unparalleled attention to detail, line and light.