A prominent arts patron once labeled Jamie Wyeth “a wretched child,” a characterization that failed to stick. Lincoln Kirstein, the founder of Lincoln Center, later became one of Wyeth’s biggest boosters.
As a fledging artist, Wyeth traded his father’s dogs and raccoons in Chadds Ford for Andy Warhol’s moose head and drag queens in New York. Wyeth’s stint at Warhol’s Factory led to a series of surreal interactions with the iconic artist, who kept the moose trophy – and myriad idiosyncrasies - on display in his dining room.

On Saturday night, March 7, an audience at the Brandywine River Museum of Art learned those tidbits and much more during “A Conversation with Jamie Wyeth.” The program offered insight into the wild ride that represents Wyeth’s storied, six-decade career.
It was the second night in a row that Wyeth and Amanda C. Burdan addressed a sold-out crowd. Burdan curated the Chadds Ford version of “Jamie Wyeth,” a retrospective that broke attendance records during its debut at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
The exhibit is also breaking records at the Brandywine museum since it began on Jan. 17. A second Wyeth conversation was scheduled after tickets for the first one disappeared within hours.
The format included a lively 50-minute exchange between Burdan and Wyeth, who sat on a raised platform at the front of the room. Burdan punctuated her questions with images projected on an adjacent screen, a presentation that was followed by a brief Q&A.
Burdan said because the questions asked by Friday night’s audience focused on people’s disbelief that the exhibit generated angst for the artist, she began Saturday’s presentation by asking Wyeth to describe his reaction to the retrospective.
“It’s been very painful, and I haven’t enjoyed it, to be perfectly honest,” Wyeth said, explaining that he sometimes looks at past paintings and wonders: “What in the hell was in my mind?”

Some bright spots periodically interrupted his second-guessing, he said. Wyeth, 68, the third generation of an art dynasty that began with his grandfather N.C. Wyeth and continued with his father, Andrew Wyeth, called the opportunity to see his work at the Boston museum nothing short of thrilling. “That museum has some of the greatest paintings in the world,” he said.
He was also entranced by the large vertical banner the Boston museum hung between two outdoor columns that featured the image of “Kleberg,” a 1984 painting of the Wyeths’ dog. The positioning made it look like Kleberg inhabited “a very fancy doghouse,” Wyeth said.
Wyeth’s painting of former President John F. Kennedy offered one of several examples of the difficulties involved with commissioned portraits. He said he initially turned down the Kennedy family’s request but later relented. He destroyed his first attempt, deeming it “too romantic.”
He called his second version “rather blunt,” and it was bluntly criticized. “How could you do this to our martyred president?” Wyeth said people repeatedly asked him. “Now, it’s the national stamp of Ireland,” he said, shaking his head at the dramatic about-face.
Kirstein represented another turnaround, Wyeth said. An early champion of his father’s work, Wyeth said the philanthropist was initially dismissive but then instrumental in helping him. However, he wasn’t always easy to like. “He wasn’t housebroken,” Wyeth said, describing Kirstein’s mercurial and detached manner.
When Wyeth developed a fascination with ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev, Kirstein expressed disdain at Wyeth’s interest, insisting that Nureyev “has nothing to do with dance.” But then Kirstein bought the first two paintings in what would become a series of Wyeth’s works depicting the famous ballet star.

Wyeth said Nureyev was a frequent visitor to Point Lookout, the farm he shares with Phyllis Wyeth, his wife of 46 years and one of his favorite models and muses. “It was like having a panther in the house,” Wyeth said of their houseguest.
He said Nureyev got so tired of the calipers Wyeth used to measure him that he called them “torture tools,” quipping that Wyeth measured “so much you could make me [a] suit.”
Burdan pointed out that Wyeth’s meticulous attention to detail is particularly evident in the exhibit’s “tableaux vivants,” detailed miniature scenes that served as models for some of the paintings. Wyeth said he created them for his own use and had to be persuaded by Elliot Bostwick Davis, the retrospective’s Boston curator, to include them in the show.
Wyeth said he’s never considered himself a sculptor and he took some shortcuts in designing the dollhouse-like inhabitants of the displays. “The figurines are G.I. Joes,” he said. “I popped the heads off.”
An audience member’s question about “Berg,” a 2012 painting with iceberg chunks amid a forbidding sea in the foreground, prompted Wyeth to explain that the image came from a harrowing personal experience. He said he was operating a small motorboat and thought he could navigate the choppy, frozen waters when he hit an iceberg. The force propelled him over the bow of the boat, and when he regained consciousness, he was on top of the ice – and in possession of inspiration for a painting.
Wyeth said he’s just as likely to paint in the kitchen or bathroom as he is in the studio - as his wife could attest. His go-to implement: his fingers. He mixes honey with watercolors so he can use them like oils, and when he’s painting a person, he starts with the eyes. “If I can’t get the eyes, I stop,” he said. “The eyes are the most important part.”

Based on the positive reaction of the crowd, it was ayes that dominated Saturday evening. After Wyeth and Burdan spoke, they joined visitors in a reception area. For more than an hour, people shared comments and connections and posed for photos with Burdan, Wyeth, and his wife.
Many people prefaced their conversations with the Wyeths with “you may not remember me, but …” The Wyeths usually did, filling in the details of the previous encounter.
Jerry A. Bilton and his wife, Michel, traveled to the museum from Newark, De. Both said they thoroughly enjoyed Burdan and Wyeth’s presentation as well as the exhibit.
“It was excellent,” said Jerry Bilton, adding that he also appreciated the opportunity later to speak with Jamie Wyeth. “It was wonderful access.”
Michel Bilton said she was impressed with the work that must have occurred behind the scenes to make the exhibit happen. “I was shocked at how many of the works aren’t part of the Wyeths’ collection,” she said. “The curators did a great job of procuring all of these paintings.”
For Pat Snead of Bryn Mawr, the experience fulfilled a longtime desire. “I always wanted to meet a Wyeth,” she said. The chance to learn firsthand that Jamie Wyeth is as engaging as his artwork was especially gratifying, she said.
“I could listen to him all night,” added Beth Haas of Wilmington.
For those who didn’t get the opportunity, the museum is offering two more programs featuring speakers well-versed in Wyeth’s work.
On March 19, Victoria Browning Wyeth, the artist’s high-energy niece, will present an overview of her uncle’s work. The presentation was added after the March 13 program sold out quickly.
Jamie Wyeth said that although he didn’t know what his niece would cover, he was confident the evening would be entertaining. “No one tells Victoria what to say,” he said with a smile.
On March 25, Burdon will lead “The Art of Jamie Wyeth Tour,” a 2 p.m. gallery presentation that will provide a running commentary on the exhibit.
“Jamie Wyeth,” which features more than 100 works, will be displayed at the Brandywine River Museum of Art through April 5. It will then move to the San Antonio Museum of Art (April 26-July 5) followed by the Crystal Bridges Museum of Art in Arkansas (July 23-October 4).
The Brandywine Conservancy & Museum of Art, located on Route 1 in Chadds Ford, is open daily (except Christmas) from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Admission is $15 for adults, $10 for seniors (65+), and $6 for students with ID and children ages 6-12. Free for children ages 5 and under as well as conservancy members. For more information, visit http://www.brandywinemuseum.org.

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