Who in the World Is Edward Hopper?

In 2015, Melanie surprised me with a birthday visit to the Chicago Art Institute. As I wrote in my last post, I had been exploring art for a few years and this gave me a chance to see some great works up close and personal. Despite not feeling well, she indulged my aimless wanderings through the many wings.

I had no clear idea what to expect, other than lots of paintings. We began with pottery crafted over 2000 years ago–bowls and vases, decanters, cups and plates and more, all of which far outlived their owners. There were Roman coins and Greek drachmas, carried in togas and bartered for food, shelter, or fun. It boggled my brain and humbled my soul. Suppose I told you a mug from your cupboard or a shiny quarter in your pocket would be on display in the year 4521?

It wasn’t all deep introspection, though. We found this painting (sorry, I have no title or artist), and she just couldn’t resist from channeling her inner Nemo. “I touched the butt,” she announced proudly. We laughed a lot, despite the stares of the other patrons. But, c’mon, what would you do in that situation? That wife of mine, she’s the kind of sidekick you want when you encounter classic works of art and priceless artifacts.

My artistic highlight arrived later in the day. I rounded a corner and stood only a few feet from my favorite painting. It’s a piece I had used in class, great fodder for discussion. You know when someone says they could stare at something for hours and not get tired of it? Or when they listen to the same song over and over, discovering nuances they had never noticed?

For me, that piece is Nighthawks, a 1942 painting by Edward Hopper. Then, I knew little about Hopper and even less about the painting, but there’s just something about it. A few nondescript characters seated in a diner. It invites all sort of speculation and closer inspection. I had no idea it was on display at the Chicago Art Institute; suddenly, I was face to face with a classic piece of Americana. I had no words. I simply stared.

It was like running into a celebrity. Who would have that effect on you? Are you a Swiftie? Maybe meeting an athlete like Mahomes or Jeter or one of the Williams sisters at Panera? How about a chance encounter with McCartney or Hanks while riding in an elevator? Finding Nighthawks was like that. It only would have been better if Hopper were standing there so I could pepper him with questions (impossible since he died in 1967).

I won’t try to explain the work. I’m no art critic or analyst. You can look it up and decide for yourself. About this painting, Hopper said it had more to do with nighttime predators than loneliness. That was his intent, but it’s not my observation. I’m curious what you think.

That day, I imagine Melanie thought I lost my mind when I stopped dead in my tracks, transfixed and silent. She humored me and let me discuss the colors, the details, and shading I noticed. But the words didn’t do justice to what the painting meant to me.

Naturally, that chance meeting led me to a deeper dive of Hopper and his work. Indulge me for a moment. Hopper paints common situations populated by one or a few people at work or home or maybe at a movie. Maybe that’s part of the appeal to me–regular folks in everyday life, depictions of people, moments in their daily routines. The figures are ambiguous, but the emotion is powerful. If you’re curious, here’s a good link to Hopper’s highlights.

And the two images on the main page of this post? A painting by Hopper (The House by the Railroad), the inspiration of Hitchcock’s creepy dwelling in Psycho. If you want to know the rest of the story, ala Paul Harvey, read about it here. Work can wait–take a short dive! You won’t be sorry.

As I noted, I’m no expert. But here’s what I’ve learned about art. Like good music or writing or chocolate, some things are to be savored and experienced more than explained. And the true test of great art? Imitation.