The Philadelphia gallery director knew from experience that only about 65 percent of people who reserve tickets for free presentations actually attend, but that experience had not included Victoria Browning Wyeth.
So on Saturday, Oct. 13, 2018, Katherine Stanek found herself with an enviable problem: scurrying to add seats. Ultimately, she resigned herself to the fact that Andrew Wyeth’s 39-year-old granddaughter had attracted a standing-room-only crowd.
Wyeth’s talk, titled “My Andy,” was conceived to complement “Storytellers,” a dual show at the gallery that features her photographs alongside the paintings of Francis Di Fronzo, an artist who also drew inspiration from Andrew Wyeth.
Stanek told the audience that she broached the idea of the lecture after listening to Wyeth discuss her artistic evolution as a photographer. The show, which includes photographs of Andrew Wyeth from the early 1990s to his death in 2009, evolved in a similar way.
“The passion, the confidence, and the energy was contagious,” Stanek said. The audience, some of whom had traveled more than two hours, quickly shared that view.
Using a PowerPoint to anchor the presentation, Wyeth juxtaposed some of her photographs with paintings by her grandfather that captured the same scenes while showcasing their different perspectives. She explained that although she accompanied her grandfather to many of his now-famous locales, such as the Kuerner Farm in Chadds Ford, she didn’t realize their significance until years later.
“The house was always a great source of fascination for me,” she said. She added that it was her grandfather who urged her to include details in her photos that initially she might have overlooked, such as the giant meat hooks hanging from the attic ceiling.
Andrew Wyeth quickly became one of her favorite subjects, and she captured dozens of images that only a beloved family member would have been able to access. “I don’t set out to look for a picture,” Wyeth said. “Something just pops out.”
Her grandfather’s naps sometimes provided that impetus, and once she startled him awake by standing on him to get a better shot. He endured the abuse with his usual good humor, she said.
Wyeth now wishes she had more photos of her grandfather at work; however, he fiercely guarded his privacy. In his Chadds Ford studio, he covered the windows and posted a sign outside that explained that he wasn’t available and didn’t sign autographs. His granddaughter said he likened the invasion of being watched while painting with the taboo of intruding on someone having sex.
Despite that prohibition, she managed to seize an opportunity in 2000 when her grandfather was working on “Only Child,” a painting that featured her. She quickly snapped a photo from behind him as she was returning to resume posing.
Wyeth also discussed images from Maine, where the family spent summers. She said her grandparents had homes on islands they owned there, an effort to avoid crowds that wasn’t always successful. Wyeth boat tours enabled groupies to pass close to the residences, and once, in a mischievous mood, she stirred excitement when she yelled that Andrew Wyeth was painting right around the corner – years after he’d died.
Besides viewing the equivalent of a Wyeth family album with insightful commentary, the audience saw more than a dozen recent examples of Victoria Wyeth’s photographs. She traced her passion for pictures back to the seventh grade when she received a Canon AE-1 camera from her mother as a gift. She has been using it ever since.
Over the years, her photographs became focal points at her grandfather’s various exhibits. She credits him and a former teacher, Shelley Seccombe, with nurturing her craft. She also expressed appreciation to some of her dearest friends for gamely providing excellent subject matter, allowing her to shoot multiple images of them from every conceivable angle.
Wyeth laughed when recalling the circumstances of a publicity shot she took in 2004 for one of her grandfather’s shows. Her grandmother, Betsy Wyeth, overheard her husband telling his granddaughter how to frame the shot and chided him, pointing out that no one ever told him how to paint. Minutes later, she proceeded to instruct her granddaughter on the importance of keeping her husband’s shadow in the picture.
She found her grandparents’ enduring love for each other inspiring, and she took myriad photos of them, both separately and together. Many of the shots of Andrew Wyeth show him wearing the intricate, cable-knit sweaters his wife, now 97, made for him. “If you love a man, you knit for him,” she told her granddaughter.
Like most married couples, Wyeth said her grandparents sometimes quarreled, and she snapped one photograph in Maine during a boat ride right after they had argued. If one didn’t know better, the tension in their positioning could have been explained by the wind in their faces.
Wyeth ended the presentation by passing out shots of vodka to the audience so everyone could raise a glass in her grandfather’s honor. “He loved his vodka,” she said.
She also noted that Dr. Mitchell Kaminski, who had been her grandfather’s physician during the last few years of his life, was in the front row and happened to be celebrating his birthday.
Kaminski, who was accompanied by his wife, Jeri Kaminski, said later that the entertaining presentation was a great addition to his birthday festivities. He also greatly enjoyed the four or five years he spent with her grandfather.
He explained that the relationship began after Andrew Wyeth’s former physician, the late Dr. Joseph Valotti, recommended that Wyeth make a change. Valotti, who had been treating the famous painter for five decades, was then in his 80s and recommended Kaminski.
“It was an absolute privilege,” said Kaminski. “He just had a spark and was so enjoyable to be around.”
Victoria Wyeth couldn’t agree more.
“Storytellers,” which marks Wyeth’s art gallery debut, runs through Oct. 27 at the Stanek Gallery, located at 242 N. 3rdSt., Philadelphia, Pa., 19106.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Loading...
Comments