Stephen Gjertson
The Precious One, 1998. Oil on canvas, 32"x 22". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Stephen Gjertson is an artist who resides in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and belongs to the first generation of painters trained by Richard F. Lack during the early 1970s. A devoted Christian, husband, and father, Mr. Gjertson has dedicated much of his life to painting, teaching, and writing about the great artists of the past. His work epitomises the Classical Realist qualities of order, beauty, fine workmanship, and a deep respect for the traditions of both nineteenth century French academicism and twentieth century Boston impressionism. Throughout his life, Mr. Gjertson has been actively involved in perpetuating the work of fellow Classical Realists and was the final president of The American Society of Classical Realism. He contributed numerous articles to the society’s publications: the Classical Realism Quarterly, the Classical Realism Journal, and the Classical Realism Newsletter. This interview took place between Mr. Gjertson and Emilio Longo via email correspondence between November, 2017 and July, 2018.
Your initial exposure to traditional art came from books that your family owned. You became fascinated by reproductions of artists' work, ranging from Charles Schreyvogel and N.C. Wyeth, to Michelangelo and Rembrandt. Eventually you started copying them. What was it about these images that inspired you?
I was an avid reader, and loved the way they illustrated their subjects, from the old American West to the creation of Adam. Most great art is illustrative, in that it tells a story of some kind. Representational art uses the visible world, that to which we can relate, as a means of expression. I always liked pictures that told stories, and collected books and illustrations by Howard Pyle, Norman Rockwell, Tom Lovell, and many others. I copied their paintings and did original work inspired by them. I was particularly interested in history, both ancient and modern (up to the end of the nineteenth century), and much of what I admired as a boy was historical. I filled sketchbooks and canvases with copies of work by artists I liked, as well as original works of subjects that interested me: cowboys and Indians, the Battle of Thermopylae, pirates, the Battle of the Alamo, and the Battle of the Little Big Horn, for example.
I enjoyed the outdoors, and spent a good deal of time at the home of my grandparents in the small town of Sandstone, Minnesota. I often carried a sketchbook with me and did drawings in the surrounding forests and old quarry. I also painted a lot of landscapes and seascapes.
Whilst in school, you received encouragement from your art teachers. How developed was your draughtsmanship at this point and did your teachers have an understanding of the foundational principles of drawing?
Two junior high school art teachers encouraged me. They let me work in a storage room between their classrooms, both during class and after school. I did what I wanted, mostly painted copies of Frederic Remington and Stanley Meltzoff. They were sympathetic, but they never gave me any practical help or constructive criticism. I’m afraid that they didn’t really know what to do with me, except let me work by myself. I saw some of their drawings, but even then they didn’t look very good to me, so I struggled on pretty much alone. I read the various "How to Paint" books published by Watson-Guptill. They were helpful.
In high school, I encountered the same thing, getting some encouragement from one teacher, but no useful advice. He did nice watercolours, and even did some biblical paintings in a Minneapolis church, but they were not very good and he taught nothing of practical value. I got most of my help from books by Andrew Loomis and Robert Beverly Hale. They were beneficial, but my work was very unskilful compared to the art that I admired.
I was an avid reader, and loved the way they illustrated their subjects, from the old American West to the creation of Adam. Most great art is illustrative, in that it tells a story of some kind. Representational art uses the visible world, that to which we can relate, as a means of expression. I always liked pictures that told stories, and collected books and illustrations by Howard Pyle, Norman Rockwell, Tom Lovell, and many others. I copied their paintings and did original work inspired by them. I was particularly interested in history, both ancient and modern (up to the end of the nineteenth century), and much of what I admired as a boy was historical. I filled sketchbooks and canvases with copies of work by artists I liked, as well as original works of subjects that interested me: cowboys and Indians, the Battle of Thermopylae, pirates, the Battle of the Alamo, and the Battle of the Little Big Horn, for example.
I enjoyed the outdoors, and spent a good deal of time at the home of my grandparents in the small town of Sandstone, Minnesota. I often carried a sketchbook with me and did drawings in the surrounding forests and old quarry. I also painted a lot of landscapes and seascapes.
Whilst in school, you received encouragement from your art teachers. How developed was your draughtsmanship at this point and did your teachers have an understanding of the foundational principles of drawing?
Two junior high school art teachers encouraged me. They let me work in a storage room between their classrooms, both during class and after school. I did what I wanted, mostly painted copies of Frederic Remington and Stanley Meltzoff. They were sympathetic, but they never gave me any practical help or constructive criticism. I’m afraid that they didn’t really know what to do with me, except let me work by myself. I saw some of their drawings, but even then they didn’t look very good to me, so I struggled on pretty much alone. I read the various "How to Paint" books published by Watson-Guptill. They were helpful.
In high school, I encountered the same thing, getting some encouragement from one teacher, but no useful advice. He did nice watercolours, and even did some biblical paintings in a Minneapolis church, but they were not very good and he taught nothing of practical value. I got most of my help from books by Andrew Loomis and Robert Beverly Hale. They were beneficial, but my work was very unskilful compared to the art that I admired.
Student Figure Study, 1975. Charcoal, 23½" x 15¼". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Student Figure Study, 1973. Oil on canvas, 26" x 13". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Student Figure Study, 1974. Pencil on paper, 14⅞" x 7⅝". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Student Figure Study, 1973. Oil on canvas, 26" x 13". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Student Figure Study, 1974. Pencil on paper, 14⅞" x 7⅝". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Were you also encouraged when you attended college?
No, in college I encountered hostility to representational art. My drawing instructors called it old fashioned and outdated. It was OK in the past, but serious contemporary artists created more expressive and relevant kinds of work. I had never been interested in so called Modern Art. It didn’t appeal to me because the representational element was either absent, distorted, or crudely rendered. I thought it was ugly. That’s why I didn’t like the work of Picasso or Matisse. My teachers told me that what I wanted to do was “mere illustration,” a thing of the past to real artists. One drawing instructor said that he could draw like Raphael when he was young, but gave it up to create more expressive art. I took a basic drawing class taught by a New York artist who came to teach at the University of Minnesota. He told me to concentrate on the ‘essential’ shape of the figure. I asked him, “what is the essential shape?” He took a piece of charcoal and very carefully filled my paper with an oval that looked like a large, upright dirigible. “There,” he stated emphatically, “that’s the essential shape of the figure!” He and my other instructors were very arrogant, couldn’t draw well, and actively discouraged or ridiculed those who wanted to do so.
How did you respond to this hostility?
I left the university and attended art school for a year, thinking that there I would receive better instruction, but the emphasis was the same. The squares of Joseph Albers were admired, and again I learned nothing helpful. I painted, copied, studied outside of class, and read about the small school of Howard Pyle in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, and wished that I could have studied with him.
In 1971 you met Richard Lack. Can you outline the series of events that led you to him?
I quit art school and decided to study on my own. Shortly afterward I saw a small impressionist landscape painting on the gift table at the wedding reception of a family friend. To my eye, it was skillfully executed. Upon inquiry, someone introduced me to the artist, who worked at Art Instruction Schools, a local correspondence school. I shared my frustration with him and asked if he could teach me how to paint. He declined, and informed me that art was a risky business. However, he referred me to another artist who taught at Art Instruction Schools. That artist had recently opened a small studio-school in Minneapolis. He said that it could be just what I was looking for. That artist was Richard Lack.
I was excited and looked up Lack’s phone number and called him. He arranged a time for me to meet him at his studio. I arrived in the evening, my car filled with paintings. There was a sign next to the front door that said ‘studio.’ The door was open, and through the screen I could see a man seated in the far corner of the room playing the violin. Lack arose and politely ushered me in. The two-story studio was lit by a north window and two skylights, one large and one small. Paintings at various stages of completion stood on easels. Paintings and studies were stacked neatly against the walls. Elaborately framed works hung from floor to ceiling. His painting of Perseus and Andromeda was above the mantel of a fireplace. I was awestruck. In spite of my inexperience, I could see that I was standing in the presence of a great artist. His work told me that I had found what I longed for in art, but thought no longer existed. The irony was that he lived and worked only half an hour’s drive from me.
What did you bring to show Richard Lack?
I brought figure paintings inspired by the illustrators and artists who I admired: a battle painting of the Alamo called Storming the Long Barracks; a trapper with his horses peering through the whirling snow toward lights in a distant cabin entitled Caught in the Blizzard; a sailor telling stories to a group of boys called The Tall Tale; a pirate sitting on a deserted island with chests of treasure that was titled Waiting with the Booty.
How did Mr. Lack respond to your work?
He looked at my work for a long time without speaking, but finally, at the urging of his wife, agreed to help me. He asked me to join his small evening figure drawing class at Atelier Lack and told me to do several compositions from imagination in black and white oil, suggesting subjects from Greek mythology such as Hercules Killing the Hydra. When I had finished them, I brought these to Lack’s studio and he painted on them and explained how they could be improved. He gave me the recent article about his school in American Artist magazine and lent me a cast to draw at home in charcoal. He explained how to set up and light the cast and told me to call him when I thought that I was finished and he would come and look at it. When I called, Lack came to my apartment to see the drawing. After several tense minutes, he said, “Well, it looks like you have an eye.”
No, in college I encountered hostility to representational art. My drawing instructors called it old fashioned and outdated. It was OK in the past, but serious contemporary artists created more expressive and relevant kinds of work. I had never been interested in so called Modern Art. It didn’t appeal to me because the representational element was either absent, distorted, or crudely rendered. I thought it was ugly. That’s why I didn’t like the work of Picasso or Matisse. My teachers told me that what I wanted to do was “mere illustration,” a thing of the past to real artists. One drawing instructor said that he could draw like Raphael when he was young, but gave it up to create more expressive art. I took a basic drawing class taught by a New York artist who came to teach at the University of Minnesota. He told me to concentrate on the ‘essential’ shape of the figure. I asked him, “what is the essential shape?” He took a piece of charcoal and very carefully filled my paper with an oval that looked like a large, upright dirigible. “There,” he stated emphatically, “that’s the essential shape of the figure!” He and my other instructors were very arrogant, couldn’t draw well, and actively discouraged or ridiculed those who wanted to do so.
How did you respond to this hostility?
I left the university and attended art school for a year, thinking that there I would receive better instruction, but the emphasis was the same. The squares of Joseph Albers were admired, and again I learned nothing helpful. I painted, copied, studied outside of class, and read about the small school of Howard Pyle in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, and wished that I could have studied with him.
In 1971 you met Richard Lack. Can you outline the series of events that led you to him?
I quit art school and decided to study on my own. Shortly afterward I saw a small impressionist landscape painting on the gift table at the wedding reception of a family friend. To my eye, it was skillfully executed. Upon inquiry, someone introduced me to the artist, who worked at Art Instruction Schools, a local correspondence school. I shared my frustration with him and asked if he could teach me how to paint. He declined, and informed me that art was a risky business. However, he referred me to another artist who taught at Art Instruction Schools. That artist had recently opened a small studio-school in Minneapolis. He said that it could be just what I was looking for. That artist was Richard Lack.
I was excited and looked up Lack’s phone number and called him. He arranged a time for me to meet him at his studio. I arrived in the evening, my car filled with paintings. There was a sign next to the front door that said ‘studio.’ The door was open, and through the screen I could see a man seated in the far corner of the room playing the violin. Lack arose and politely ushered me in. The two-story studio was lit by a north window and two skylights, one large and one small. Paintings at various stages of completion stood on easels. Paintings and studies were stacked neatly against the walls. Elaborately framed works hung from floor to ceiling. His painting of Perseus and Andromeda was above the mantel of a fireplace. I was awestruck. In spite of my inexperience, I could see that I was standing in the presence of a great artist. His work told me that I had found what I longed for in art, but thought no longer existed. The irony was that he lived and worked only half an hour’s drive from me.
What did you bring to show Richard Lack?
I brought figure paintings inspired by the illustrators and artists who I admired: a battle painting of the Alamo called Storming the Long Barracks; a trapper with his horses peering through the whirling snow toward lights in a distant cabin entitled Caught in the Blizzard; a sailor telling stories to a group of boys called The Tall Tale; a pirate sitting on a deserted island with chests of treasure that was titled Waiting with the Booty.
How did Mr. Lack respond to your work?
He looked at my work for a long time without speaking, but finally, at the urging of his wife, agreed to help me. He asked me to join his small evening figure drawing class at Atelier Lack and told me to do several compositions from imagination in black and white oil, suggesting subjects from Greek mythology such as Hercules Killing the Hydra. When I had finished them, I brought these to Lack’s studio and he painted on them and explained how they could be improved. He gave me the recent article about his school in American Artist magazine and lent me a cast to draw at home in charcoal. He explained how to set up and light the cast and told me to call him when I thought that I was finished and he would come and look at it. When I called, Lack came to my apartment to see the drawing. After several tense minutes, he said, “Well, it looks like you have an eye.”
An English Table, 1991. Oil on canvas, 28" x 22". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Homage to Fantin, 1993. Oil on canvas, 25" x 20". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Homage to Fantin, 1993. Oil on canvas, 25" x 20". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
You wrote the biographies of Richard Lack. Tell me a little about him.
Richard Lack’s story was similar to mine. He had wanted to draw and paint since he was young. He lived in south Minneapolis and, ironically, we had attended the same junior and senior high schools. He then studied at the Minneapolis School of Art and had been discouraged there as well. In 1949, the year that I was born, Lack quit art school and went to New York to find a teacher. He couldn’t find one, but he drew horses at the police department, and copied a painting at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. While copying one morning, he met Robert Cumming, a student of Boston artist R. H. Ives Gammell [1893-1981]. Cumming invited Lack to Boston. Eager to learn, Lack wrote to Gammell and visited him in early 1950. Gammell accepted him into his atelier and Lack studied with him for five years. Gammell had been a student of the American painter William McGregor Paxton [1869-1941]. Paxton had studied with the French artist and teacher Jean-Léon Gérôme [1824-1904] at the École des Beaux-Arts in the early 1890s. He provided the connecting link to the post World War II development of this tradition. Gammell was a man of independent means, a first-rate intellectual, and an exceptionally gifted artist. He endeavoured to preserve and pass on some of the rapidly diminishing knowledge of traditional picture making by establishing an atelier in Boston. This master-pupil relationship provided an unbroken link to the Western painting traditions that had been summed up and embodied in the École.
When did Richard Lack decide to teach?
Lack returned to Minneapolis in 1957 and started his career. He began teaching at Art Instruction Schools, a correspondence art school that taught courses through the mail. He understood, however, that good training is impossible to achieve adequately on one’s own or through written instruction. It is a hands-on process, a language that is communicated to the pupil by the master through exercise and example. His first opportunity to teach more formally and effectively presented itself when approached for instruction by Thomas Mairs, a young man whose portrait he had painted in 1964. Tom was talented and wanted to study art. He worked privately with Lack during the summers from 1964 to 1970. In 1969 some of Lack’s colleagues asked him to teach life drawing. He rented space and taught a weekly evening class. In the fall of that year Lack applied to The Elizabeth T. Greenshields Memorial Foundation in Montreal, Canada, for a grant to help start a formal atelier to train young students in the craft of painting. He received the grant, and Atelier Lack was incorporated as a small, non-profit studio school.
Who were his first students?
Lack patterned the school after the ateliers of nineteenth-century Paris and the teaching of Ives Gammell and the Boston impressionists. At first it existed on a very modest scale, with a few students who stayed for short periods of time. Thomas Mairs attended Yale University after high school, but returned in 1971 to study full time at Atelier Lack. James Childs also discovered Lack and began studying with him. An article in the June-July 1971 issue of American Artist magazine entitled “Richard Lack’s Atelier System of Training Painters” brought him several requests from frustrated art students around the country. In 1971 Paul DeLorenzo, a former pupil of Ives Gammell, also approached Lack for more comprehensive instruction. He, along with Thomas Mairs and James Childs, became Lack’s first full-time students. I joined them in the fall of 1971 along with Allan R. Banks and Charles Cecil, another former pupil of Ives Gammell. In early 1972 Gary Hoffmann joined us to round out the first cohesive group of full time students.
Richard Lack was obviously a fine painter. Was he a good teacher?
Yes. The training that he received from R. H. Ives Gammell was undoubtedly the most professional and thorough that he could have received at that time. Unlike some artists, Lack did not become a specialist. He was interested in all genres of traditional painting. He painted large and small figure compositions, both in the studio and en plein-air. He executed landscapes of every effect, during all seasons of the year, in both oil and watercolour. He painted still lifes with a wide variety of light effects, both natural and artificial—some done outdoors. He became well known for his portraits, painting many of Minnesota’s influential people, including two governors. He was an admirable pastellist and a fine etcher. He constructed and gilt his own picture frames and often ground his own pigment. Like Gammell, he was interested in imaginative figure compositions, which he painted using both the bistre and Venetian methods. However, the remarkable character of Lack’s art was not only its diversity, but also its mastery. The finest of his work in each genre compared favourably with the great work of the past. This mastery demonstrated a breadth of knowledge and skill that was equalled by few artists of his time, so he was, after Gammell, the most admirably qualified teacher of his generation.
Can you describe the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
The curriculum consisted of cast drawing and painting, figure drawing and painting, still life painting, and head painting. It’s important to understand that the primary goal of an artist’s education is to train the eye to see shapes, values, and colour. Technical skill develops in direct proportion to the student’s ability to see. One does not learn “technique”; one learns to “see,” and technical skill follows.
We studied formally five days a week. From 9:00 to noon in the morning we worked individually on our casts and still lifes and, later, in pairs painting portrait studies. In the afternoon, from 1:00 to 4:00, we drew or painted the nude figure. Lack visited the studio two days a week to critique our work and demonstrate working methods.
Richard Lack’s story was similar to mine. He had wanted to draw and paint since he was young. He lived in south Minneapolis and, ironically, we had attended the same junior and senior high schools. He then studied at the Minneapolis School of Art and had been discouraged there as well. In 1949, the year that I was born, Lack quit art school and went to New York to find a teacher. He couldn’t find one, but he drew horses at the police department, and copied a painting at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. While copying one morning, he met Robert Cumming, a student of Boston artist R. H. Ives Gammell [1893-1981]. Cumming invited Lack to Boston. Eager to learn, Lack wrote to Gammell and visited him in early 1950. Gammell accepted him into his atelier and Lack studied with him for five years. Gammell had been a student of the American painter William McGregor Paxton [1869-1941]. Paxton had studied with the French artist and teacher Jean-Léon Gérôme [1824-1904] at the École des Beaux-Arts in the early 1890s. He provided the connecting link to the post World War II development of this tradition. Gammell was a man of independent means, a first-rate intellectual, and an exceptionally gifted artist. He endeavoured to preserve and pass on some of the rapidly diminishing knowledge of traditional picture making by establishing an atelier in Boston. This master-pupil relationship provided an unbroken link to the Western painting traditions that had been summed up and embodied in the École.
When did Richard Lack decide to teach?
Lack returned to Minneapolis in 1957 and started his career. He began teaching at Art Instruction Schools, a correspondence art school that taught courses through the mail. He understood, however, that good training is impossible to achieve adequately on one’s own or through written instruction. It is a hands-on process, a language that is communicated to the pupil by the master through exercise and example. His first opportunity to teach more formally and effectively presented itself when approached for instruction by Thomas Mairs, a young man whose portrait he had painted in 1964. Tom was talented and wanted to study art. He worked privately with Lack during the summers from 1964 to 1970. In 1969 some of Lack’s colleagues asked him to teach life drawing. He rented space and taught a weekly evening class. In the fall of that year Lack applied to The Elizabeth T. Greenshields Memorial Foundation in Montreal, Canada, for a grant to help start a formal atelier to train young students in the craft of painting. He received the grant, and Atelier Lack was incorporated as a small, non-profit studio school.
Who were his first students?
Lack patterned the school after the ateliers of nineteenth-century Paris and the teaching of Ives Gammell and the Boston impressionists. At first it existed on a very modest scale, with a few students who stayed for short periods of time. Thomas Mairs attended Yale University after high school, but returned in 1971 to study full time at Atelier Lack. James Childs also discovered Lack and began studying with him. An article in the June-July 1971 issue of American Artist magazine entitled “Richard Lack’s Atelier System of Training Painters” brought him several requests from frustrated art students around the country. In 1971 Paul DeLorenzo, a former pupil of Ives Gammell, also approached Lack for more comprehensive instruction. He, along with Thomas Mairs and James Childs, became Lack’s first full-time students. I joined them in the fall of 1971 along with Allan R. Banks and Charles Cecil, another former pupil of Ives Gammell. In early 1972 Gary Hoffmann joined us to round out the first cohesive group of full time students.
Richard Lack was obviously a fine painter. Was he a good teacher?
Yes. The training that he received from R. H. Ives Gammell was undoubtedly the most professional and thorough that he could have received at that time. Unlike some artists, Lack did not become a specialist. He was interested in all genres of traditional painting. He painted large and small figure compositions, both in the studio and en plein-air. He executed landscapes of every effect, during all seasons of the year, in both oil and watercolour. He painted still lifes with a wide variety of light effects, both natural and artificial—some done outdoors. He became well known for his portraits, painting many of Minnesota’s influential people, including two governors. He was an admirable pastellist and a fine etcher. He constructed and gilt his own picture frames and often ground his own pigment. Like Gammell, he was interested in imaginative figure compositions, which he painted using both the bistre and Venetian methods. However, the remarkable character of Lack’s art was not only its diversity, but also its mastery. The finest of his work in each genre compared favourably with the great work of the past. This mastery demonstrated a breadth of knowledge and skill that was equalled by few artists of his time, so he was, after Gammell, the most admirably qualified teacher of his generation.
Can you describe the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
The curriculum consisted of cast drawing and painting, figure drawing and painting, still life painting, and head painting. It’s important to understand that the primary goal of an artist’s education is to train the eye to see shapes, values, and colour. Technical skill develops in direct proportion to the student’s ability to see. One does not learn “technique”; one learns to “see,” and technical skill follows.
We studied formally five days a week. From 9:00 to noon in the morning we worked individually on our casts and still lifes and, later, in pairs painting portrait studies. In the afternoon, from 1:00 to 4:00, we drew or painted the nude figure. Lack visited the studio two days a week to critique our work and demonstrate working methods.
From This Day Forward, 1990. Oil on canvas, 44" x 34". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sister Henrita Osendorf, O. S. B., 1979. Oil on canvas, 34" x 27". College of Saint Benedict, Saint Joseph, MN. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sister Henrita Osendorf, O. S. B., 1979. Oil on canvas, 34" x 27". College of Saint Benedict, Saint Joseph, MN. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
I understand that you worked sight-size. Can you briefly describe this way of working?
Yes, sight-size was a new method of working to me. Before my exposure to this I had used the method of comparative measurements. We used comparative measurements in Richard Lack’s evening class. Both methods provide a way to establish the proportions of the subject being drawn. As the terms imply, comparative measurements establish the proportions by the student comparing one part with another; sight-size establishes the proportions by setting up a relationship between the subject and paper or canvas where the student can see them side by side from a pre-determined distance, whether seated or standing. By using a ruler held horizontally at arms-length one is able to establish relationships of height and width. By holding a thin thread with a lead sinker on the end at arms-length you can determine vertical relationships. When comparing the images while looking back and forth with one eye closed, they appear identical. The student’s challenge is to make the relationships in their work identical to those observed in nature. At the most basic level, the student is slowly trained to ‘see’ while attempting to render these relationships under the guidance of the master.
Could you describe your life class?
The afternoon life class was the centre of our study. We drew small figure studies in pencil and larger ones in charcoal. Three or four days was the average time that we spent on pencil drawings and two months was the average for charcoal studies. We later painted figure studies in colour. At that time, we did not do painted studies in grisaille.
Yes, sight-size was a new method of working to me. Before my exposure to this I had used the method of comparative measurements. We used comparative measurements in Richard Lack’s evening class. Both methods provide a way to establish the proportions of the subject being drawn. As the terms imply, comparative measurements establish the proportions by the student comparing one part with another; sight-size establishes the proportions by setting up a relationship between the subject and paper or canvas where the student can see them side by side from a pre-determined distance, whether seated or standing. By using a ruler held horizontally at arms-length one is able to establish relationships of height and width. By holding a thin thread with a lead sinker on the end at arms-length you can determine vertical relationships. When comparing the images while looking back and forth with one eye closed, they appear identical. The student’s challenge is to make the relationships in their work identical to those observed in nature. At the most basic level, the student is slowly trained to ‘see’ while attempting to render these relationships under the guidance of the master.
Could you describe your life class?
The afternoon life class was the centre of our study. We drew small figure studies in pencil and larger ones in charcoal. Three or four days was the average time that we spent on pencil drawings and two months was the average for charcoal studies. We later painted figure studies in colour. At that time, we did not do painted studies in grisaille.
Left: Mr. Gjertson working alongside his colleagues at Atelier Lack in 1973. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Centre: Richard Lack critiquing student life drawings in 1973. Mr. Gjertson is to Lack's right. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Right: A Classical Realism Journal staff meeting (l-r: Mr. Gjertson, Rebecca H. Swanson, Gary Christensen, Peter Bougie, Richard Lack). Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Centre: Richard Lack critiquing student life drawings in 1973. Mr. Gjertson is to Lack's right. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Right: A Classical Realism Journal staff meeting (l-r: Mr. Gjertson, Rebecca H. Swanson, Gary Christensen, Peter Bougie, Richard Lack). Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Did you have any supplemental studies?
At the outset of our training, Lack stressed the importance of four supplementary areas of study: copying, anatomical overlays, compositional sketches, and memory drawing. We were to do these on our own time. He also encouraged us to copy both paintings and drawings. Painted copies could be of several kinds: small, loose sketches in black and white oil to study the spotting—the placement of the large masses of light and dark—, small sketches in colour to study the decorative use of colour—placement, selection, and harmony—and larger facsimiles done from the original, to study artistic style and methods. Copies of drawings were to be, as much as possible, exact replicas of the original.
You mentioned anatomical overlays. Did you also study anatomy?
We had no formal anatomy class, as did students who studied in later years. However, Lack expected us to do anatomical overlays on all of our drawings, first of the skeleton and then of the muscles. If we wished, we could show them to him for his advice. On Saturday mornings, we had an occasional class in composition. Early in the week Lack assigned a subject, such as Cain and Abel, and we would create a design of it in the medium of our choice, usually charcoal or black and white oil. We brought these sketches to class and, using them as a point of departure, Lack would discuss the principles of design.
How about memory training?
Above the door to the studio hung a painted cast done from memory by Richard Lack. It was, to say the least, intimidating. We were familiar with the somewhat astounding results obtained by various students of Lecoq de Boisbaudran, and we drew silhouettes of figures, stared at them, put them away, and then endeavoured to reproduce them from memory. We sometimes asked the models to hold a difficult pose for a minute while we endeavoured to memorise the gesture. When the model took a break, we drew the gesture from memory and then checked it during the next pose. I re-drew almost all of my pencil figure drawings from memory at home after they were finished and still fresh in my mind.
Richard Lack was an accomplished landscape painter. Did he take his students outdoors to paint landscapes?
Those of us who were interested painted landscapes during the summers. Lack took us outside one morning to get us started. From then on we worked on our own. I would often go landscape sketching with Charles Cecil and Gary Hoffmann. The primary goal was to properly render outdoor colour values—to get the proper ‘note’ as he called it. It is difficult to get the colour and atmosphere of nature as it actually looks, yet retain the drawing and form.
I understand that you also learnt to make frames.
That’s right, some of us learned how to make picture frames. Lack and his friend, Don Koestner, made most of their own picture frames. Charles Cecil and I went to Lack’s home to learn the process. We spent many weeks making frames for him: measuring, cutting, and assembling the raw moulding, applying and filling compo ornaments, then shellacking and applying the metal leaf. Lack did the final toning to harmonise the frame with the painting.
At the outset of our training, Lack stressed the importance of four supplementary areas of study: copying, anatomical overlays, compositional sketches, and memory drawing. We were to do these on our own time. He also encouraged us to copy both paintings and drawings. Painted copies could be of several kinds: small, loose sketches in black and white oil to study the spotting—the placement of the large masses of light and dark—, small sketches in colour to study the decorative use of colour—placement, selection, and harmony—and larger facsimiles done from the original, to study artistic style and methods. Copies of drawings were to be, as much as possible, exact replicas of the original.
You mentioned anatomical overlays. Did you also study anatomy?
We had no formal anatomy class, as did students who studied in later years. However, Lack expected us to do anatomical overlays on all of our drawings, first of the skeleton and then of the muscles. If we wished, we could show them to him for his advice. On Saturday mornings, we had an occasional class in composition. Early in the week Lack assigned a subject, such as Cain and Abel, and we would create a design of it in the medium of our choice, usually charcoal or black and white oil. We brought these sketches to class and, using them as a point of departure, Lack would discuss the principles of design.
How about memory training?
Above the door to the studio hung a painted cast done from memory by Richard Lack. It was, to say the least, intimidating. We were familiar with the somewhat astounding results obtained by various students of Lecoq de Boisbaudran, and we drew silhouettes of figures, stared at them, put them away, and then endeavoured to reproduce them from memory. We sometimes asked the models to hold a difficult pose for a minute while we endeavoured to memorise the gesture. When the model took a break, we drew the gesture from memory and then checked it during the next pose. I re-drew almost all of my pencil figure drawings from memory at home after they were finished and still fresh in my mind.
Richard Lack was an accomplished landscape painter. Did he take his students outdoors to paint landscapes?
Those of us who were interested painted landscapes during the summers. Lack took us outside one morning to get us started. From then on we worked on our own. I would often go landscape sketching with Charles Cecil and Gary Hoffmann. The primary goal was to properly render outdoor colour values—to get the proper ‘note’ as he called it. It is difficult to get the colour and atmosphere of nature as it actually looks, yet retain the drawing and form.
I understand that you also learnt to make frames.
That’s right, some of us learned how to make picture frames. Lack and his friend, Don Koestner, made most of their own picture frames. Charles Cecil and I went to Lack’s home to learn the process. We spent many weeks making frames for him: measuring, cutting, and assembling the raw moulding, applying and filling compo ornaments, then shellacking and applying the metal leaf. Lack did the final toning to harmonise the frame with the painting.
Reading, 2002. Oil on canvas, 34" x 22". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Grace, 2002. Oil on canvas, 35½" x 45½". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Grace, 2002. Oil on canvas, 35½" x 45½". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Did Richard Lack ever have students work on his paintings?
Yes, he occasionally had his students help him with his work. It gave us experience with some of the aspects of picture making and freed him to do other, more creative, work. Students often underpainted works for him or helped make copies of paintings for various clients. I assisted him with a portrait commission. When I got to Lack’s studio, he had already roughly underpainted the work in raw umber and white. I dressed in the gentleman’s suit and he painted the hands in colour from me. Then, for almost two months, I drove to his studio every day and painted the entire portrait in colour, finishing everything as carefully as I could. I painted the head from a black and white photograph and took the colour from a copy that Lack had done of a portrait by Sir Henry Raeburn. I painted the rest from life: the suit, tie, and globe. He would look at my work and tell me what or what not to do, primarily advice on how he wanted the paint surface to look—lean, flat, and smooth, so he could easily paint the final skin over it.
Did Richard Lack assign any reading material?
No, not specifically, but we were all enthusiastic readers. Of course, we read Twilight of Painting by Ives Gammell, which was a professional painter’s intelligent and balanced analysis of late nineteenth and twentieth century art. He dedicated the book to future art students and it was a continual source of information and encouragement to us. We read the Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds, a must read for serious traditional artists and students. We read Frederic Leighton’s lectures to the Royal Academy. The first one was especially good. We also read and discussed the books of Kenyon Cox, particularly The Classic Point of View and Concerning Painting. Technical books by Max Doerner, Sir Charles Eastlake, A. P. Laurie, Solomon J. Solomon, and Harold Speed were always circulating around the studio. All of us read and analysed Albert Boime’s seminal book, The Academy and French Painting in the Nineteenth Century. We concluded that he should have stopped writing after the first three chapters.
Was Atelier Lack recognised by others in the art community at that time?
It took a while for the school to become known, but once it did, the reaction was divided into two factions: those who liked traditional art and respected the school and its goals, and those who liked Modernism and opposed the school and its goals. Antagonism to the school manifested itself by our third year of study. Lack arranged to exhibit a selection of our figure drawings and paintings at a local community college. The response to the exhibition was hostile. Irate students destroyed one of my pencil figure drawings and slashed a hole in one of my painted figure studies. Custodians found several drawings that had been thrown down an air vent. We never recovered a fine study by James Childs. Lack was angry and worked diligently to have the college pay insurance damages to the students who lost their work. It took a great deal of time and negotiation, but he finally succeeded and we greatly appreciated his effort.
Did you embark on a "Grand Tour" at any point during or after your training?
I travelled to England and France with James Childs and Thomas Mairs during our final year at Atelier Lack. Since then I have returned twice to France, once with my wife and daughters, to study the restored Opéra Garnier, and later with James Childs to see an exhibition of work by Alexandre Cabanel in his home town of Montpellier.
What would you say are the basic principles that you learnt at Atelier Lack?
As I said, the primary goal was to train the eye and the criticism was geared to that end: “reduce the three-dimensional world to the flat and observe your subject with one eye closed,” “separate light and shadow,” “squint to see the values,” “look for the big masses and abstract shapes,” “don’t look into the shadows,” “see how the light flows over and defines the form,” “make sure that the lights are light enough and the darks are dark enough,” “don’t make your highlights look pasted-on,” “don’t over-model,” “throw your eye out of focus,” “simplify,” “constantly compare your relationships,” “first draw the mask of the features,” “look away to see the colour,” “look for the warms and cools,” “paint across the form,” and “don’t torture the paint.” These can be empty catch phrases when spouted by an amateur. When explained, exemplified, and demonstrated by a master they are principles upon which the language of fine representation is built. After the language has been learned, it is the artist’s responsibility to use it to create works of enduring value.
How long did you study at Atelier Lack?
I studied from the fall of 1971 to the spring of 1975. I wanted to study longer and work on my imaginative ideas, but a fire destroyed Atelier Lack in June 1975 and the studies of the first group of students was over.
How did Atelier Lack manage to survive?
Lack was highly motivated to continue teaching and immediately began looking for a new location. He found a suitable building across the street, had a new group of students remodel the space, and reopened the school in the fall. It remained in that location for twenty years and slowly gained a reputation as a small island of traditional art training surrounded by a sea of hostile opinion. It attracted many students from the United States, Canada, and Europe, and eventually became a model for others throughout the United States and abroad, earning Lack the title, “father of the atelier movement.”
Yes, he occasionally had his students help him with his work. It gave us experience with some of the aspects of picture making and freed him to do other, more creative, work. Students often underpainted works for him or helped make copies of paintings for various clients. I assisted him with a portrait commission. When I got to Lack’s studio, he had already roughly underpainted the work in raw umber and white. I dressed in the gentleman’s suit and he painted the hands in colour from me. Then, for almost two months, I drove to his studio every day and painted the entire portrait in colour, finishing everything as carefully as I could. I painted the head from a black and white photograph and took the colour from a copy that Lack had done of a portrait by Sir Henry Raeburn. I painted the rest from life: the suit, tie, and globe. He would look at my work and tell me what or what not to do, primarily advice on how he wanted the paint surface to look—lean, flat, and smooth, so he could easily paint the final skin over it.
Did Richard Lack assign any reading material?
No, not specifically, but we were all enthusiastic readers. Of course, we read Twilight of Painting by Ives Gammell, which was a professional painter’s intelligent and balanced analysis of late nineteenth and twentieth century art. He dedicated the book to future art students and it was a continual source of information and encouragement to us. We read the Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds, a must read for serious traditional artists and students. We read Frederic Leighton’s lectures to the Royal Academy. The first one was especially good. We also read and discussed the books of Kenyon Cox, particularly The Classic Point of View and Concerning Painting. Technical books by Max Doerner, Sir Charles Eastlake, A. P. Laurie, Solomon J. Solomon, and Harold Speed were always circulating around the studio. All of us read and analysed Albert Boime’s seminal book, The Academy and French Painting in the Nineteenth Century. We concluded that he should have stopped writing after the first three chapters.
Was Atelier Lack recognised by others in the art community at that time?
It took a while for the school to become known, but once it did, the reaction was divided into two factions: those who liked traditional art and respected the school and its goals, and those who liked Modernism and opposed the school and its goals. Antagonism to the school manifested itself by our third year of study. Lack arranged to exhibit a selection of our figure drawings and paintings at a local community college. The response to the exhibition was hostile. Irate students destroyed one of my pencil figure drawings and slashed a hole in one of my painted figure studies. Custodians found several drawings that had been thrown down an air vent. We never recovered a fine study by James Childs. Lack was angry and worked diligently to have the college pay insurance damages to the students who lost their work. It took a great deal of time and negotiation, but he finally succeeded and we greatly appreciated his effort.
Did you embark on a "Grand Tour" at any point during or after your training?
I travelled to England and France with James Childs and Thomas Mairs during our final year at Atelier Lack. Since then I have returned twice to France, once with my wife and daughters, to study the restored Opéra Garnier, and later with James Childs to see an exhibition of work by Alexandre Cabanel in his home town of Montpellier.
What would you say are the basic principles that you learnt at Atelier Lack?
As I said, the primary goal was to train the eye and the criticism was geared to that end: “reduce the three-dimensional world to the flat and observe your subject with one eye closed,” “separate light and shadow,” “squint to see the values,” “look for the big masses and abstract shapes,” “don’t look into the shadows,” “see how the light flows over and defines the form,” “make sure that the lights are light enough and the darks are dark enough,” “don’t make your highlights look pasted-on,” “don’t over-model,” “throw your eye out of focus,” “simplify,” “constantly compare your relationships,” “first draw the mask of the features,” “look away to see the colour,” “look for the warms and cools,” “paint across the form,” and “don’t torture the paint.” These can be empty catch phrases when spouted by an amateur. When explained, exemplified, and demonstrated by a master they are principles upon which the language of fine representation is built. After the language has been learned, it is the artist’s responsibility to use it to create works of enduring value.
How long did you study at Atelier Lack?
I studied from the fall of 1971 to the spring of 1975. I wanted to study longer and work on my imaginative ideas, but a fire destroyed Atelier Lack in June 1975 and the studies of the first group of students was over.
How did Atelier Lack manage to survive?
Lack was highly motivated to continue teaching and immediately began looking for a new location. He found a suitable building across the street, had a new group of students remodel the space, and reopened the school in the fall. It remained in that location for twenty years and slowly gained a reputation as a small island of traditional art training surrounded by a sea of hostile opinion. It attracted many students from the United States, Canada, and Europe, and eventually became a model for others throughout the United States and abroad, earning Lack the title, “father of the atelier movement.”
The Grace of Life, 1988. Oil on canvas, 31" x 26". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Midmorning, 1985. Oil on canvas, 33" x 42". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Midmorning, 1985. Oil on canvas, 33" x 42". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
You taught at Atelier Lack from 1973 to 1988. What responsibilities did Mr. Lack assign you?
In 1973, while I was a student, Richard Lack asked me if I would teach an evening still life painting class. He had begun to get requests from people in the area. I agreed and began teaching one evening a week. At first, the evening class students were people with full time jobs who could only study at night. As time went on, younger students who were frustrated by experiences in art schools began taking classes. After the atelier fire, I continued to teach evening classes, ultimately three classes a week, still life, portrait, and life drawing.
Why did Richard Lack decide to teach evening classes at the atelier?
Lack already taught evening classes. I had been in his life drawing class. The evening classes served many purposes. They provided the fundamentals to a larger number of people and the tuition and students provided patronage and positive support for the goals of the atelier in the rather hostile art world. It also served as a proving ground for students who eventually entered the full-time program, such as Jeffrey Larson, Cyd Wicker, and Dale Redpath.
What led to you teaching the full-time students?
In 1978, Lack asked me if I would consider helping him teach the full-time day students. He wanted to double the number of students and divide them into two groups, beginning and advanced. For a day and a half a week I would teach the beginning students for their first two years: cast drawing and painting, still life drawing and painting, and life drawing in pencil and charcoal. For two days a week, Lack would teach the advanced students during their final two or three years: life drawing and painting, still life and portrait painting, and interior figure painting. We both knew all of the students, so there was some overlap, of course. For one year, I also taught four students at a separate branch of the school in Saint Paul. I also had several private students. We set up projects at their homes and I critiqued them once a week.
Did the teaching change over the years?
Yes. With two groups, there was more emphasis on the fundamentals. Students spent much more time drawing and painting casts, and life drawing in pencil. Annette LeSueur and I put together a composition course that I taught. Annette taught artistic anatomy, which she had studied in college. There was also the inauguration of a comprehensive exhibition of student work at the end of the year. This gave them an opportunity to design and hang a large exhibition. There were also festive birthday parties and fund raisers.
What were some of the stereotypes or complaints of students?
All students come with certain pre-conceptions or expectations. Most students think that they go to art school to learn “technique,” to acquire technical skill, but the purpose of art education, at least in the early stages, is to train the student’s eye to accurately see the shapes, values, and colours of nature and to reduce the three-dimensional world to the flat, two-dimensional surface of paper or canvas. Some students were shocked or bored at the drudgery of the early years of training; others were challenged and exhilarated. As time went on, Lack became discouraged by the general ignorance students had of art history, and a disinterest in the Boston tradition. The failure of some students to respect the expertise and authority of the master, even challenging or ignoring his advice, was a source of great irritation. If their work was inferior, the students blamed it on the poor instruction of the teacher or a failure of the teacher to divulge certain artistic “secrets.”
What made you retire from teaching at Atelier Lack in 1988?
I wanted to spend more time on my own work and to be able to attend my children’s evening school activities. I also needed to distance myself from the pressure to feel responsible for the success or failure of my students.
1988 was the year Pietro Annigoni died. What did Mr. Lack think of Annigoni? Was Annigoni well known to you and your colleagues at Atelier Lack?
Richard Lack met Annigoni while he was a student in Boston. They had a rather heated art historical debate one evening over a beer, but Lack greatly respected Annigoni’s work, as did I. I had seen his portraits of Queen Elizabeth when I was in London and knew several artists, including Charles Kapsner and Daniel Graves, who had studied with Nerina Simi, the drawing instructor he recommended to students.
I understand that Cyd Wicker and Dale Redpath now run The Atelier (formerly Atelier Lack).
Yes. Cyd Wicker and Wayne Howell operated an atelier that merged with Atelier Lack. When Richard Lack retired, Cyd and Dale took over the school, eventually relocating and changing the name. Dale Redpath is on sabbatical due to ill health, but the school continues to function on a somewhat grander scale than Atelier Lack. By that, I mean that the school offers a greater variety of part time classes, workshops, and lectures.
In 1973, while I was a student, Richard Lack asked me if I would teach an evening still life painting class. He had begun to get requests from people in the area. I agreed and began teaching one evening a week. At first, the evening class students were people with full time jobs who could only study at night. As time went on, younger students who were frustrated by experiences in art schools began taking classes. After the atelier fire, I continued to teach evening classes, ultimately three classes a week, still life, portrait, and life drawing.
Why did Richard Lack decide to teach evening classes at the atelier?
Lack already taught evening classes. I had been in his life drawing class. The evening classes served many purposes. They provided the fundamentals to a larger number of people and the tuition and students provided patronage and positive support for the goals of the atelier in the rather hostile art world. It also served as a proving ground for students who eventually entered the full-time program, such as Jeffrey Larson, Cyd Wicker, and Dale Redpath.
What led to you teaching the full-time students?
In 1978, Lack asked me if I would consider helping him teach the full-time day students. He wanted to double the number of students and divide them into two groups, beginning and advanced. For a day and a half a week I would teach the beginning students for their first two years: cast drawing and painting, still life drawing and painting, and life drawing in pencil and charcoal. For two days a week, Lack would teach the advanced students during their final two or three years: life drawing and painting, still life and portrait painting, and interior figure painting. We both knew all of the students, so there was some overlap, of course. For one year, I also taught four students at a separate branch of the school in Saint Paul. I also had several private students. We set up projects at their homes and I critiqued them once a week.
Did the teaching change over the years?
Yes. With two groups, there was more emphasis on the fundamentals. Students spent much more time drawing and painting casts, and life drawing in pencil. Annette LeSueur and I put together a composition course that I taught. Annette taught artistic anatomy, which she had studied in college. There was also the inauguration of a comprehensive exhibition of student work at the end of the year. This gave them an opportunity to design and hang a large exhibition. There were also festive birthday parties and fund raisers.
What were some of the stereotypes or complaints of students?
All students come with certain pre-conceptions or expectations. Most students think that they go to art school to learn “technique,” to acquire technical skill, but the purpose of art education, at least in the early stages, is to train the student’s eye to accurately see the shapes, values, and colours of nature and to reduce the three-dimensional world to the flat, two-dimensional surface of paper or canvas. Some students were shocked or bored at the drudgery of the early years of training; others were challenged and exhilarated. As time went on, Lack became discouraged by the general ignorance students had of art history, and a disinterest in the Boston tradition. The failure of some students to respect the expertise and authority of the master, even challenging or ignoring his advice, was a source of great irritation. If their work was inferior, the students blamed it on the poor instruction of the teacher or a failure of the teacher to divulge certain artistic “secrets.”
What made you retire from teaching at Atelier Lack in 1988?
I wanted to spend more time on my own work and to be able to attend my children’s evening school activities. I also needed to distance myself from the pressure to feel responsible for the success or failure of my students.
1988 was the year Pietro Annigoni died. What did Mr. Lack think of Annigoni? Was Annigoni well known to you and your colleagues at Atelier Lack?
Richard Lack met Annigoni while he was a student in Boston. They had a rather heated art historical debate one evening over a beer, but Lack greatly respected Annigoni’s work, as did I. I had seen his portraits of Queen Elizabeth when I was in London and knew several artists, including Charles Kapsner and Daniel Graves, who had studied with Nerina Simi, the drawing instructor he recommended to students.
I understand that Cyd Wicker and Dale Redpath now run The Atelier (formerly Atelier Lack).
Yes. Cyd Wicker and Wayne Howell operated an atelier that merged with Atelier Lack. When Richard Lack retired, Cyd and Dale took over the school, eventually relocating and changing the name. Dale Redpath is on sabbatical due to ill health, but the school continues to function on a somewhat grander scale than Atelier Lack. By that, I mean that the school offers a greater variety of part time classes, workshops, and lectures.
Visiting Hours–December Joy, 2003. Oil on canvas, 32" x 32". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sancta Puella, 2001. Oil on canvas, 36" x 26". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Favourite Toys, 2008. Oil on canvas, 28½" x 26". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sancta Puella, 2001. Oil on canvas, 36" x 26". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Favourite Toys, 2008. Oil on canvas, 28½" x 26". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
What were your experiences like teaching at Atelier LeSueur and The Bougie Studio?
Atelier LeSueur operated from the fall of 1983 to the spring of 1996 in three locations fifteen to twenty miles west of Minneapolis. First in the top floor of the old high school in Excelsior, then in a church down the road, and finally in a renovated school building in Minnetonka. I was the school’s artistic advisor and for one year taught four advanced students in Excelsior. During the summer, I taught an outdoor painting class. Jeffrey Larson was the assistant director and head instructor. The school had other fine instructors and many talented students. Richard Lack taught an advanced imaginative atelier there as well.
Peter Bougie and George Hermann (an evening student at Atelier Lack) opened The Bougie Studio in February 1988 and it operated until August 2003. Brian Lewis, another Atelier Lack graduate, later replaced Hermann. I taught composition to advanced students for one year. Bougie also taught anatomy at Atelier Lack and landscape painting at Atelier LeSueur.
I understand that both schools were located in Minneapolis like Atelier Lack. Did the three schools share dialogue at all?
Yes, all of the schools operated independently, but we shared a common goal. Because we knew each other and all of the instructors had studied with Richard Lack and me, or our students, we had shared exhibitions, and teachers from one school often taught classes or workshops at other schools. Several of us also taught at schools in the area that were not ateliers.
Was the curriculum of these ateliers modelled after the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
Yes, the general course of study was the same. Annette LeSueur also emphasised copying plates from the Bargue-Gérôme course book introduced to us by Mark Walker.
Did Mr. Lack not favour the Bargue-Gérôme drawing course? Why were the plates not part of the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
We knew, from The Academy & French Painting in the Nineteenth Century by Albert Boime, that plates such as those, and others, had been used in an art student’s early education in France, but they were unavailable to us during the 1970s. Ives Gammell had not used them and neither did Richard Lack. Annette LeSueur was the first one to use the Bargue-Gérôme plates as a contemporary teaching tool. She also knew about the plates from the Boime book. When Annette’s best friend, Mark Walker, another student of Richard Lack’s from Utah, went to England in the 1980s, Annette asked him to locate and photograph the course book for her and gave him money to do so. Mark found a set, photographed the plates, and told Annette that only 3 copies of this course still existed. When he returned, Mark gave Annette the negatives, and she had prints made for use at her school.
Annette brought her photographs to Atelier Lack, but Lack didn’t incorporate them into our curriculum. Mark later told Daniel Graves about them. Annette developed a way to copy them in pencil that she believes is superior to the way subsequent teachers have done. A year and a half before Gerald Ackerman published his book on the course, Annette sent him over a hundred-page description of their use, and he thanked her in the introduction to his book. James Childs also wrote a cogent and helpful synopsis of the drawing course in the spring 2004 issue of the Classical Realism Newsletter.
Mark Walker was also a Bouguereau scholar, wasn’t he?
Yes, Mark Walker spoke French, so Annette LeSueur asked him to translate the Marius Vachon book on Bouguereau. That was the beginning of Mark’s interest in Bouguereau, and he went on to become a recognised scholar who studied and wrote about him. He organised the first major exhibition of Bouguereau’s work, wrote an essay in the catalogue, and compiled an extensive photographic catalogue raisonné of his paintings. In 1991 Borghi & Company published Mark's chronology of paintings by Bouguereau in an exhibition catalogue of his work. Mark did the seminal research for the ultimate catalogue written by Damien Bartoli and Fred Ross.
Was sculpture offered at Atelier Lack, Atelier LeSueur, or The Bougie Studio?
No. Sculpture is a separate art form, and requires an extensive knowledge to teach. It would be difficult to combine painting and sculpture into an education of limited duration. Lack’s school and teaching focused on painting, emphasising in the early stages the academic/impressionist tradition that he received through Ives Gammell.
Did Mr. Lack believe that sculpture was a necessary part of a painter's training?
No. If he had, he would have incorporated it into his curriculum. Lack did some small portrait sculptures, but his art was primarily two-dimensional. Obviously, some older artists were both painters and sculptors; Michelangelo and Leighton are well known examples, as was Gérôme in our tradition.
At any point, did you study sculpture and if so, did you find that it helped your comprehension of form?
I took sculpture classes at the University of Minnesota, but there was an obvious emphasis on modernism, so what I wanted to do was discouraged, and I quit. Charles Cecil did a life size bust at Atelier Lack during his spare time, and I believe took sculpture classes at the University. Robert Nicpon studied sculpture in Chicago with Mustafa Naguib before he studied with Richard Lack. Rob is a fine sculptor, and his figure drawings showed a remarkable understanding of form, no doubt because of his experience as a sculptor.
In addition to Rob Nicpon, James Childs has also done commissioned sculptures. Several of Lack's students have done them, like Poussin, as an aid in creating their paintings. Michael Coyle and Michael Chelich have created extraordinary maquettes as models for their paintings. I have made many maquettes or clay props as painting aids. I did several small sculptures and a fairly finished bas relief of a dragon for a painting called Metanoia.
Atelier LeSueur operated from the fall of 1983 to the spring of 1996 in three locations fifteen to twenty miles west of Minneapolis. First in the top floor of the old high school in Excelsior, then in a church down the road, and finally in a renovated school building in Minnetonka. I was the school’s artistic advisor and for one year taught four advanced students in Excelsior. During the summer, I taught an outdoor painting class. Jeffrey Larson was the assistant director and head instructor. The school had other fine instructors and many talented students. Richard Lack taught an advanced imaginative atelier there as well.
Peter Bougie and George Hermann (an evening student at Atelier Lack) opened The Bougie Studio in February 1988 and it operated until August 2003. Brian Lewis, another Atelier Lack graduate, later replaced Hermann. I taught composition to advanced students for one year. Bougie also taught anatomy at Atelier Lack and landscape painting at Atelier LeSueur.
I understand that both schools were located in Minneapolis like Atelier Lack. Did the three schools share dialogue at all?
Yes, all of the schools operated independently, but we shared a common goal. Because we knew each other and all of the instructors had studied with Richard Lack and me, or our students, we had shared exhibitions, and teachers from one school often taught classes or workshops at other schools. Several of us also taught at schools in the area that were not ateliers.
Was the curriculum of these ateliers modelled after the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
Yes, the general course of study was the same. Annette LeSueur also emphasised copying plates from the Bargue-Gérôme course book introduced to us by Mark Walker.
Did Mr. Lack not favour the Bargue-Gérôme drawing course? Why were the plates not part of the curriculum at Atelier Lack?
We knew, from The Academy & French Painting in the Nineteenth Century by Albert Boime, that plates such as those, and others, had been used in an art student’s early education in France, but they were unavailable to us during the 1970s. Ives Gammell had not used them and neither did Richard Lack. Annette LeSueur was the first one to use the Bargue-Gérôme plates as a contemporary teaching tool. She also knew about the plates from the Boime book. When Annette’s best friend, Mark Walker, another student of Richard Lack’s from Utah, went to England in the 1980s, Annette asked him to locate and photograph the course book for her and gave him money to do so. Mark found a set, photographed the plates, and told Annette that only 3 copies of this course still existed. When he returned, Mark gave Annette the negatives, and she had prints made for use at her school.
Annette brought her photographs to Atelier Lack, but Lack didn’t incorporate them into our curriculum. Mark later told Daniel Graves about them. Annette developed a way to copy them in pencil that she believes is superior to the way subsequent teachers have done. A year and a half before Gerald Ackerman published his book on the course, Annette sent him over a hundred-page description of their use, and he thanked her in the introduction to his book. James Childs also wrote a cogent and helpful synopsis of the drawing course in the spring 2004 issue of the Classical Realism Newsletter.
Mark Walker was also a Bouguereau scholar, wasn’t he?
Yes, Mark Walker spoke French, so Annette LeSueur asked him to translate the Marius Vachon book on Bouguereau. That was the beginning of Mark’s interest in Bouguereau, and he went on to become a recognised scholar who studied and wrote about him. He organised the first major exhibition of Bouguereau’s work, wrote an essay in the catalogue, and compiled an extensive photographic catalogue raisonné of his paintings. In 1991 Borghi & Company published Mark's chronology of paintings by Bouguereau in an exhibition catalogue of his work. Mark did the seminal research for the ultimate catalogue written by Damien Bartoli and Fred Ross.
Was sculpture offered at Atelier Lack, Atelier LeSueur, or The Bougie Studio?
No. Sculpture is a separate art form, and requires an extensive knowledge to teach. It would be difficult to combine painting and sculpture into an education of limited duration. Lack’s school and teaching focused on painting, emphasising in the early stages the academic/impressionist tradition that he received through Ives Gammell.
Did Mr. Lack believe that sculpture was a necessary part of a painter's training?
No. If he had, he would have incorporated it into his curriculum. Lack did some small portrait sculptures, but his art was primarily two-dimensional. Obviously, some older artists were both painters and sculptors; Michelangelo and Leighton are well known examples, as was Gérôme in our tradition.
At any point, did you study sculpture and if so, did you find that it helped your comprehension of form?
I took sculpture classes at the University of Minnesota, but there was an obvious emphasis on modernism, so what I wanted to do was discouraged, and I quit. Charles Cecil did a life size bust at Atelier Lack during his spare time, and I believe took sculpture classes at the University. Robert Nicpon studied sculpture in Chicago with Mustafa Naguib before he studied with Richard Lack. Rob is a fine sculptor, and his figure drawings showed a remarkable understanding of form, no doubt because of his experience as a sculptor.
In addition to Rob Nicpon, James Childs has also done commissioned sculptures. Several of Lack's students have done them, like Poussin, as an aid in creating their paintings. Michael Coyle and Michael Chelich have created extraordinary maquettes as models for their paintings. I have made many maquettes or clay props as painting aids. I did several small sculptures and a fairly finished bas relief of a dragon for a painting called Metanoia.
The Anniversary, 1987. Oil on canvas, 36" x 42". Collection of Fred and Sherry Ross, NJ. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
After the Bath, 1989. Oil on canvas, 26" x 23". Collection of Fred and Sherry Ross, NJ. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
After the Bath, 1989. Oil on canvas, 26" x 23". Collection of Fred and Sherry Ross, NJ. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Mr. Lack used both "The Bistre Method" and "The Venetian Method" of oil painting. Can you describe both methods and the reasoning behind using one over the other?
Lack experimented with these methods throughout his career. He used the Venetian method, underpainting in grisaille, for some early works such as The Concert. However, he primarily used these methods for his imaginative paintings. Generally, the bistre method consists of doing an underpainting in warm transparent brown (such as transparent brown oxide). The overpainting is done in colour, endeavoring to keep the darks transparent, the halftones translucent, and the lights opaque. Of course, there is much room for variation. The important thing is to know what you are after, having carefully worked out the drawing and design in preliminary studies. There is more latitude in the Venetian method because you can change and rework the underpainting more easily before transitioning to colour. For those interested in detailed information on these methods, they can refer to Lack’s articles in On the Training of Painters.
Did Mr. Lack train students in using both methods?
Lack trained some of his advanced students in these methods. They helped him lay in or underpaint some of his imaginative paintings. He primarily taught these methods later, to students in his advanced atelier, where they helped him on his paintings as well as doing their own work. This was for students who wished to create imaginative figure paintings. During the first four years students used a direct painting method, sometimes finishing with scumbles and glazes. This is the best way to train a student to see and render colour values.
Can you explain a little about Annette LeSueur and Peter Bougie. Are they still working today?
Yes. Annette LeSueur studied with Richard Lack during the middle to late 1970s. She received Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees in Fine Arts from Brigham Young University in Utah and wrote her thesis on Howard Pyle and his school at Chadds Ford. She specialised in teaching children and has written exceptional course books for teaching children. In addition to her school, she taught children’s classes and anatomy at Atelier Lack. She continues to teach children and is making plans to open an atelier for foreign students. Peter Bougie studied with Richard Lack from 1983 to 1987. He lives with his wife in Wisconsin and continues to paint landscapes and figurative works.
Besides the three ateliers in Minneapolis, did you teach elsewhere?
Yes, before teaching the full-time students at Atelier Lack I taught at the Minnesota Museum of Art in Saint Paul. Don Koestner got me the job, and James Childs also taught classes there. When the director of the school found out that we were associated with Atelier Lack he fired us. Don Koestner then began teaching his students at Atelier Lack. James Childs joined Thomas Mairs and began an atelier in Saint Paul. I got a job teaching at the Minnetonka Center of Arts and Education. I stopped teaching there in 1978, when Richard Lack asked me to help him teach the full-time day students at Atelier Lack. During the 1980s and early 90s I taught landscape painting at Atelier du Nord, on the North Shore of Lake Superior, a school run by my friend, Charlotte Tidball. I painted there every summer. Several other Atelier Lack graduates taught there as well.
Did you always have to teach, or were you able to make a living solely off your paintings?
I was seldom able to survive financially from the sale of my paintings alone. I taught because Richard Lack asked me, and I was grateful for my education and wanted to help others who also desired to learn. Of course, I also appreciated the income. After I stopped teaching I had evening janitorial jobs for almost twenty years, so I could still paint during the day. My wife also worked at a variety of daytime jobs.
At the beginning of your career, you and your wife (Patricia) became Christians. What led you to this decision?
By way of background, I attended a Methodist church with my family as a boy. I went to Sunday school, participated in the MYF group on Sunday evenings, and later read the Scripture lessons during Sunday services. I struggled through three years of confirmation, including almost a year of weekly confirmation classes. I occasionally read the Bible, and pledged money on Stewardship Sunday. If asked by anyone if I were a Christian, I would have replied, ‘Yes, of course. I believe in God and Jesus and go to church almost every week.’
In school, however, my science teachers taught that evolution provided the correct, scientific facts about the origin and development of life. They implied that the biblical account was the mythological explanation of pre-scientific people. In confirmation I heard that the Gospels, with their stories about Jesus’ miracles, were stories woven around the life of a real, but ordinary person, and the supernatural events in his life had not really happened. The same was true about the miracles related in the book of Acts. When asked for the meaning of Jesus’ statement about being ‘born again’ my pastor had told the sister of a friend that being ‘born again’ was only for the time of Jesus and no longer necessary.
What was your response to this?
My response was confusion, then scepticism, and ultimately doubt and unbelief. Either the Bible was true, as people like my relatives and Billy Graham said, or it was not, as my science teachers in school said, and the pastor of our church implied. If some parts of it were true and other parts were not, how could you differentiate between the true and the false, and how could you trust what you read? I continued to attend church with my parents and grandparents, but didn’t believe that the Bible or Christianity were true.
What led you to believe that the Bible was true and to trust in Christ?
I met Jesus. While sitting in my studio one afternoon, overcome with guilt over some recent sins in my life, I was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. Jesus Christ appeared to me. He didn’t say who He was, but I instantly knew His identity. Filled with compassion, he looked at me and said: ‘Follow Me and I will make something of your life.’ I replied, ‘Yes, Lord, I will.’ He stood with me for several moments and then disappeared.
My doubt and despair vanished. During those few seconds that Jesus stood before me several facts were indelibly impressed upon my mind. I knew that the Bible was true—the scientists, historians, and sceptical theologians were wrong. I knew that God loved me, and I knew that Jesus was God and had died for my sin. He rose from the dead and gave me the gift of forgiveness and life. In the years since then, I found substantive answers to the questions that I had.
Lack experimented with these methods throughout his career. He used the Venetian method, underpainting in grisaille, for some early works such as The Concert. However, he primarily used these methods for his imaginative paintings. Generally, the bistre method consists of doing an underpainting in warm transparent brown (such as transparent brown oxide). The overpainting is done in colour, endeavoring to keep the darks transparent, the halftones translucent, and the lights opaque. Of course, there is much room for variation. The important thing is to know what you are after, having carefully worked out the drawing and design in preliminary studies. There is more latitude in the Venetian method because you can change and rework the underpainting more easily before transitioning to colour. For those interested in detailed information on these methods, they can refer to Lack’s articles in On the Training of Painters.
Did Mr. Lack train students in using both methods?
Lack trained some of his advanced students in these methods. They helped him lay in or underpaint some of his imaginative paintings. He primarily taught these methods later, to students in his advanced atelier, where they helped him on his paintings as well as doing their own work. This was for students who wished to create imaginative figure paintings. During the first four years students used a direct painting method, sometimes finishing with scumbles and glazes. This is the best way to train a student to see and render colour values.
Can you explain a little about Annette LeSueur and Peter Bougie. Are they still working today?
Yes. Annette LeSueur studied with Richard Lack during the middle to late 1970s. She received Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees in Fine Arts from Brigham Young University in Utah and wrote her thesis on Howard Pyle and his school at Chadds Ford. She specialised in teaching children and has written exceptional course books for teaching children. In addition to her school, she taught children’s classes and anatomy at Atelier Lack. She continues to teach children and is making plans to open an atelier for foreign students. Peter Bougie studied with Richard Lack from 1983 to 1987. He lives with his wife in Wisconsin and continues to paint landscapes and figurative works.
Besides the three ateliers in Minneapolis, did you teach elsewhere?
Yes, before teaching the full-time students at Atelier Lack I taught at the Minnesota Museum of Art in Saint Paul. Don Koestner got me the job, and James Childs also taught classes there. When the director of the school found out that we were associated with Atelier Lack he fired us. Don Koestner then began teaching his students at Atelier Lack. James Childs joined Thomas Mairs and began an atelier in Saint Paul. I got a job teaching at the Minnetonka Center of Arts and Education. I stopped teaching there in 1978, when Richard Lack asked me to help him teach the full-time day students at Atelier Lack. During the 1980s and early 90s I taught landscape painting at Atelier du Nord, on the North Shore of Lake Superior, a school run by my friend, Charlotte Tidball. I painted there every summer. Several other Atelier Lack graduates taught there as well.
Did you always have to teach, or were you able to make a living solely off your paintings?
I was seldom able to survive financially from the sale of my paintings alone. I taught because Richard Lack asked me, and I was grateful for my education and wanted to help others who also desired to learn. Of course, I also appreciated the income. After I stopped teaching I had evening janitorial jobs for almost twenty years, so I could still paint during the day. My wife also worked at a variety of daytime jobs.
At the beginning of your career, you and your wife (Patricia) became Christians. What led you to this decision?
By way of background, I attended a Methodist church with my family as a boy. I went to Sunday school, participated in the MYF group on Sunday evenings, and later read the Scripture lessons during Sunday services. I struggled through three years of confirmation, including almost a year of weekly confirmation classes. I occasionally read the Bible, and pledged money on Stewardship Sunday. If asked by anyone if I were a Christian, I would have replied, ‘Yes, of course. I believe in God and Jesus and go to church almost every week.’
In school, however, my science teachers taught that evolution provided the correct, scientific facts about the origin and development of life. They implied that the biblical account was the mythological explanation of pre-scientific people. In confirmation I heard that the Gospels, with their stories about Jesus’ miracles, were stories woven around the life of a real, but ordinary person, and the supernatural events in his life had not really happened. The same was true about the miracles related in the book of Acts. When asked for the meaning of Jesus’ statement about being ‘born again’ my pastor had told the sister of a friend that being ‘born again’ was only for the time of Jesus and no longer necessary.
What was your response to this?
My response was confusion, then scepticism, and ultimately doubt and unbelief. Either the Bible was true, as people like my relatives and Billy Graham said, or it was not, as my science teachers in school said, and the pastor of our church implied. If some parts of it were true and other parts were not, how could you differentiate between the true and the false, and how could you trust what you read? I continued to attend church with my parents and grandparents, but didn’t believe that the Bible or Christianity were true.
What led you to believe that the Bible was true and to trust in Christ?
I met Jesus. While sitting in my studio one afternoon, overcome with guilt over some recent sins in my life, I was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. Jesus Christ appeared to me. He didn’t say who He was, but I instantly knew His identity. Filled with compassion, he looked at me and said: ‘Follow Me and I will make something of your life.’ I replied, ‘Yes, Lord, I will.’ He stood with me for several moments and then disappeared.
My doubt and despair vanished. During those few seconds that Jesus stood before me several facts were indelibly impressed upon my mind. I knew that the Bible was true—the scientists, historians, and sceptical theologians were wrong. I knew that God loved me, and I knew that Jesus was God and had died for my sin. He rose from the dead and gave me the gift of forgiveness and life. In the years since then, I found substantive answers to the questions that I had.
The Newborn, 1989. Oil on canvas, 29" x 27". Montclair Art Museum, Montclair, NJ. Gift of Fred and Sherry Ross. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Bedtime Story, 1994. Oil on canvas, 38" x 34". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Lentissimo, 1979. Oil on canvas, 20" x 24". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Bedtime Story, 1994. Oil on canvas, 38" x 34". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Lentissimo, 1979. Oil on canvas, 20" x 24". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
In a previous interview you stated; "design, harmony, and order will point to the design, harmony, and order of God’s creation if someone has eyes to see and is willing to acknowledge it." Can you elaborate on this statement?
The New Living Translation of the 20th verse of Romans 1 is, “For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.” That means that the created world clearly reveals the existence of a divine Creator. It does so even more today, with continued study of the fossil record showing no real evidence for evolution. The interdependent complexity of the parts within the cell that can only function if all are there, and the elaborate structure of DNA plainly reveal the design, harmony, and order produced by an awesome and marvelous Creator. Such complex arrangements and functions could not be the result of random chance any more than the Sistine Chapel decorations or an iPhone.
What role does your faith play in your creative process?
Like most Christian artists I pray and seek the Lord about my work, asking for wisdom, discernment, and skill. We are exhorted to think about what is true, honourable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. We are to think about things that are excellent and praiseworthy. This pertains to everything in life. As an artist, I try to apply these things to the visual arts.
Studying the Bible had a gradual, but significant effect on my attitude toward art, tempering an often-arrogant idealism and putting painting into a healthier perspective in my life. Art was my profession, with a small ‘a’ rather than a capital ‘A’. In Exodus 31 God filled Bezalel and Oholiab and the other artisans with His Spirit to give them wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and skill, to design and create works for the tabernacle. I began to see that biblical theology provided a solid philosophic foundation for those things that I had intuitively appreciated in the arts: truth to nature, fine design, and technical skill.
The Bible also supplies the practical boundaries for my work. For example, though I appreciate the beauty and expressive power of the nude in art and have the freedom to paint the nude if I desire, I restrict its use in my work to preparatory studies or representations that are purely symbolic, such as Encomium (a nuditas virtualis, where the nude figure is a symbol of purity and innocence), and Rachel Weeping for Her Children. I enumerated some considerations on Christianity and the visual arts in several essays and studies that I mentioned earlier. I later compiled these thoughts in For Glory and For Beauty: Practical Perspectives on Christianity and the Visual Arts. I also began to study traditional symbols in art with Christian themes and occasionally gave slide lectures on the topic. I included a list of some of the more prominent symbols in our book.
The New Living Translation of the 20th verse of Romans 1 is, “For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.” That means that the created world clearly reveals the existence of a divine Creator. It does so even more today, with continued study of the fossil record showing no real evidence for evolution. The interdependent complexity of the parts within the cell that can only function if all are there, and the elaborate structure of DNA plainly reveal the design, harmony, and order produced by an awesome and marvelous Creator. Such complex arrangements and functions could not be the result of random chance any more than the Sistine Chapel decorations or an iPhone.
What role does your faith play in your creative process?
Like most Christian artists I pray and seek the Lord about my work, asking for wisdom, discernment, and skill. We are exhorted to think about what is true, honourable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. We are to think about things that are excellent and praiseworthy. This pertains to everything in life. As an artist, I try to apply these things to the visual arts.
Studying the Bible had a gradual, but significant effect on my attitude toward art, tempering an often-arrogant idealism and putting painting into a healthier perspective in my life. Art was my profession, with a small ‘a’ rather than a capital ‘A’. In Exodus 31 God filled Bezalel and Oholiab and the other artisans with His Spirit to give them wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and skill, to design and create works for the tabernacle. I began to see that biblical theology provided a solid philosophic foundation for those things that I had intuitively appreciated in the arts: truth to nature, fine design, and technical skill.
The Bible also supplies the practical boundaries for my work. For example, though I appreciate the beauty and expressive power of the nude in art and have the freedom to paint the nude if I desire, I restrict its use in my work to preparatory studies or representations that are purely symbolic, such as Encomium (a nuditas virtualis, where the nude figure is a symbol of purity and innocence), and Rachel Weeping for Her Children. I enumerated some considerations on Christianity and the visual arts in several essays and studies that I mentioned earlier. I later compiled these thoughts in For Glory and For Beauty: Practical Perspectives on Christianity and the Visual Arts. I also began to study traditional symbols in art with Christian themes and occasionally gave slide lectures on the topic. I included a list of some of the more prominent symbols in our book.
Evening in the Pines, 1988. Oil on canvas, 24" x 58". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
What are some of the symbols in your work?
Ones that I love and use quite often are butterflies and moths. Butterflies are a symbol of resurrection, transformation, and change; moths are a symbol of death and decay. Symbols can add a depth of meaning that goes beyond that of the mere objects themselves. I include symbols in many paintings. For example, Metanoia (the Greek word for repentance) symbolises the act of turning from sin to God and contains obvious symbols referring to this.
Do you believe it is necessary for an artist to believe in God in order to create works that are truthful and ultimately beautiful?
No, countless unbelieving artists have created beautiful and meaningful works.
Many contemporary realists seem to have strong faith. Do you believe that there is a connection between realist art and God?
Yes, but only if the created world or its representation in art reveals the handiwork of the true and living God to the viewer or the artist.
Was Mr. Lack a religious man?
Yes. He grew up in the Lutheran church but eventually rejected its teaching. Later, through Ives Gammell, he became interested in the work and ideas of the Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung. The theories of Jung provided answers to many of the questions that he had about the human condition. Lack was one of the founding members of the Minnesota Jung Association.
Did the theories of Carl Jung play a role in his creative process?
Yes. After painting a few traditional themes, his imaginative figure paintings dealt with Jungian ideas concerning the human psyche. He considered some of these paintings, his Triptych and The Interior Journey, to be his greatest work.
Were issues of faith ever discussed in Atelier Lack?
Students sometimes discussed them, but Richard Lack discouraged proselytising in the studio because he considered it divisive.
Ones that I love and use quite often are butterflies and moths. Butterflies are a symbol of resurrection, transformation, and change; moths are a symbol of death and decay. Symbols can add a depth of meaning that goes beyond that of the mere objects themselves. I include symbols in many paintings. For example, Metanoia (the Greek word for repentance) symbolises the act of turning from sin to God and contains obvious symbols referring to this.
Do you believe it is necessary for an artist to believe in God in order to create works that are truthful and ultimately beautiful?
No, countless unbelieving artists have created beautiful and meaningful works.
Many contemporary realists seem to have strong faith. Do you believe that there is a connection between realist art and God?
Yes, but only if the created world or its representation in art reveals the handiwork of the true and living God to the viewer or the artist.
Was Mr. Lack a religious man?
Yes. He grew up in the Lutheran church but eventually rejected its teaching. Later, through Ives Gammell, he became interested in the work and ideas of the Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung. The theories of Jung provided answers to many of the questions that he had about the human condition. Lack was one of the founding members of the Minnesota Jung Association.
Did the theories of Carl Jung play a role in his creative process?
Yes. After painting a few traditional themes, his imaginative figure paintings dealt with Jungian ideas concerning the human psyche. He considered some of these paintings, his Triptych and The Interior Journey, to be his greatest work.
Were issues of faith ever discussed in Atelier Lack?
Students sometimes discussed them, but Richard Lack discouraged proselytising in the studio because he considered it divisive.
So He Drove the Man Out, 1982. Oil on paper mounted to board, 47" x 28". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Metanoia, 1994. Oil on canvas, 84" x 50". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Ides of March XLIV B.C., 2016. Oil on panel, 60⅞" x 45½". Old Parkland Art Collection, Dallas, TX. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Metanoia, 1994. Oil on canvas, 84" x 50". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Ides of March XLIV B.C., 2016. Oil on panel, 60⅞" x 45½". Old Parkland Art Collection, Dallas, TX. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Were many students training at Atelier Lack Christians?
There were a few, but many students had conflicting faiths and philosophies. Various students were proponents of Mormonism, eastern mysticism, transcendental meditation, the Bahá’í faith, Hinduism, and Wicca.
In 1978, you met Kirk Richards and became good friends. Tell me about your relationship and how it eventuated into publishing: "For Glory and For Beauty: Practical Perspectives on Christianity and the Visual Arts"?
I met Kirk in the fall of 1978 during my first year teaching the full-time day program at Atelier Lack. Kirk was then in his third year of study. He was also a Christian, and was familiar with the doctrines of the Mormons, several of whom we knew. We met together to discuss the Scriptures in relation to Mormon teaching. We found that we had much in common, including an offbeat sense of humour and very smart wives. Since then we have been close friends, visiting each other regularly and often exhibiting together. I taught a composition class at his school. In 2006 we formed, with Steve Armes, Triad: Three American Painters. Triad exhibited together until Steve’s untimely death in April 2017. Our artistic ideals are similar. We respect each other’s work, talk often, and see each other whenever possible.
As for our book, in the spring of 2000 I received a request to judge a large exhibition of artwork created by students in a nearby Christian school. I was surprised and shocked by the failure, for whatever reason, of instructors and students to apply biblical standards to their work, and many were disturbingly anti-biblical. I decided to rewrite “The Necessity of Excellence,” which had been published fifteen years earlier in Realism in Revolution: The Art of the Boston School. I reintroduced elements that had been edited out of the original essay and amplified portions to more clearly explain my biblical perspective. I added some material from two teachings that I did at our children’s school called "The Spiritual Person and the Arts" and "Art and the Sacred," and illustrated it like I had originally done for my essay in Realism in Revolution.
I knew that Kirk was also writing an essay and encouraged him to finish it for a possible book, which he did. I tried and failed to secure funding from several sources, then brought an illustrated layout of my essay to the Newington-Cropsey Foundation in the spring of 2001. The Foundation agreed to fund the project. I returned home and devoted over a year of full time effort to it, choosing the artwork to reproduce, securing reproduction rights, and designing the book. Because of my experience, I only intended it for use in Christian schools and home schools. Unfortunately, it has not been well received and no schools or bookstores have been interested in using or selling it.
What do you think is the reason for this?
I have been told by bookstores that in today’s market it is almost impossible to sell books with primarily black and white illustrations. Others have said that interest in such a book is very limited and that the point of view is too narrow minded, sets unreasonable standards that discourage artists and students, and fails to mention significant genres such as caricature and animation, areas that are wonderful and fascinating, but we didn’t deal with them in the book for lack of space.
Did getting married and having children have an impact on your work? If so, how?
Yes, it had a very great impact. The necessity to earn a living and provide for my family was coupled with the difficulty of trying to paint on my own. I made two artistic decisions. I had always taken my art seriously. My fellow students at Atelier Lack had been equally serious. We talked of nothing but great art and great artists. However, we never discussed how we would actually make a living at our art, the business aspect of it. We simply thought that we would live like the older painters we admired, getting commissions, doing portraits, and selling our work to interested, mostly wealthy, people. In some ways, we lived in a romantic historical fog. Lack rarely spoke about making a living, but he did bring in paintings for us to see, talked about selling small, saleable still lifes and landscapes through galleries and so forth. He used to say that a good portrait painter could always make a living and that pleasing still lifes and small landscapes could provide bread and butter. At least they had for him.
As I began my professional career I determined to never paint anything that I couldn’t get artistically excited about or that compromised biblical truth and my faith in Christ. I also determined that I would paint full time. I saw some artists get part or full-time time jobs to earn a living and, for various reasons, never return seriously to their art. If I were unable to make a living with my art I would at least paint during the day under natural light and work evening jobs, if necessary, to help pay the bills. As I said before, I was a janitor for over twenty years and my wife has had numerous jobs.
Many of your genre paintings represent family members carrying out day-to-day activities. What is it about these scenes that inspires you?
Like many artists, I have painted my family: wife, children, and grandchildren. You simply observe them doing their everyday activities and see ideas for paintings. I enjoy painting my family, but I was afraid to use them at the beginning of my career. My wife modelled for several portraits and other works, such as Lentissimo and The Anniversary, but when the children were small I was unsure of my ability to paint a moving target. Children are challenging to paint because they fidget so much and I did not want to resort to photography. I began with some far shots of them in landscapes. I finally conquered my fear of closer subjects, but decided to err on the side of caution and chose a sleeping pose for Andrew in The Anniversary. This worked quite well and I decided to use my children more frequently. They have been very good about posing for me. The first thing they learned was to hold still. The second thing was to only move slightly when asked to adjust the pose. ‘Lower your chin and turn your head to the right’ is usually a small shift, not a move into the other room. That took a while to master.
Involving our children in my work has given us valuable time together since I was gone so often in the evenings. They all seem to have enjoyed posing and have been very willing to act as models for many other projects as well. It also gave them a practical lesson in the complexities of picture making and, I think, improved their appreciation for works of art. Of course, it’s also practical, since it’s hard to find models willing to pose for such long hours. Posing is a job, so I paid my children for working. One of my favourite anecdotes about their modelling is about my son, Andrew. I remember one Saturday morning in particular. He was four and posing for Heroes of the West. He was doing his best to sit still and I could see that he was thinking hard about something. After a while he got an intense expression on his face, looked up at me, and stated in a very serious tone, ‘I’m doing this for the money, right dad?’ He had finally figured out why he was spending his Saturday morning posing in the studio instead of watching cartoons downstairs with his brother and sister. ‘Andrew,’ I replied, ‘you are a very astute and enterprising young man. Yes, you’re doing this for the money. And to help me out too, right?’ He smiled. ‘Yeah.’ It was one of life’s perfect moments.
There were a few, but many students had conflicting faiths and philosophies. Various students were proponents of Mormonism, eastern mysticism, transcendental meditation, the Bahá’í faith, Hinduism, and Wicca.
In 1978, you met Kirk Richards and became good friends. Tell me about your relationship and how it eventuated into publishing: "For Glory and For Beauty: Practical Perspectives on Christianity and the Visual Arts"?
I met Kirk in the fall of 1978 during my first year teaching the full-time day program at Atelier Lack. Kirk was then in his third year of study. He was also a Christian, and was familiar with the doctrines of the Mormons, several of whom we knew. We met together to discuss the Scriptures in relation to Mormon teaching. We found that we had much in common, including an offbeat sense of humour and very smart wives. Since then we have been close friends, visiting each other regularly and often exhibiting together. I taught a composition class at his school. In 2006 we formed, with Steve Armes, Triad: Three American Painters. Triad exhibited together until Steve’s untimely death in April 2017. Our artistic ideals are similar. We respect each other’s work, talk often, and see each other whenever possible.
As for our book, in the spring of 2000 I received a request to judge a large exhibition of artwork created by students in a nearby Christian school. I was surprised and shocked by the failure, for whatever reason, of instructors and students to apply biblical standards to their work, and many were disturbingly anti-biblical. I decided to rewrite “The Necessity of Excellence,” which had been published fifteen years earlier in Realism in Revolution: The Art of the Boston School. I reintroduced elements that had been edited out of the original essay and amplified portions to more clearly explain my biblical perspective. I added some material from two teachings that I did at our children’s school called "The Spiritual Person and the Arts" and "Art and the Sacred," and illustrated it like I had originally done for my essay in Realism in Revolution.
I knew that Kirk was also writing an essay and encouraged him to finish it for a possible book, which he did. I tried and failed to secure funding from several sources, then brought an illustrated layout of my essay to the Newington-Cropsey Foundation in the spring of 2001. The Foundation agreed to fund the project. I returned home and devoted over a year of full time effort to it, choosing the artwork to reproduce, securing reproduction rights, and designing the book. Because of my experience, I only intended it for use in Christian schools and home schools. Unfortunately, it has not been well received and no schools or bookstores have been interested in using or selling it.
What do you think is the reason for this?
I have been told by bookstores that in today’s market it is almost impossible to sell books with primarily black and white illustrations. Others have said that interest in such a book is very limited and that the point of view is too narrow minded, sets unreasonable standards that discourage artists and students, and fails to mention significant genres such as caricature and animation, areas that are wonderful and fascinating, but we didn’t deal with them in the book for lack of space.
Did getting married and having children have an impact on your work? If so, how?
Yes, it had a very great impact. The necessity to earn a living and provide for my family was coupled with the difficulty of trying to paint on my own. I made two artistic decisions. I had always taken my art seriously. My fellow students at Atelier Lack had been equally serious. We talked of nothing but great art and great artists. However, we never discussed how we would actually make a living at our art, the business aspect of it. We simply thought that we would live like the older painters we admired, getting commissions, doing portraits, and selling our work to interested, mostly wealthy, people. In some ways, we lived in a romantic historical fog. Lack rarely spoke about making a living, but he did bring in paintings for us to see, talked about selling small, saleable still lifes and landscapes through galleries and so forth. He used to say that a good portrait painter could always make a living and that pleasing still lifes and small landscapes could provide bread and butter. At least they had for him.
As I began my professional career I determined to never paint anything that I couldn’t get artistically excited about or that compromised biblical truth and my faith in Christ. I also determined that I would paint full time. I saw some artists get part or full-time time jobs to earn a living and, for various reasons, never return seriously to their art. If I were unable to make a living with my art I would at least paint during the day under natural light and work evening jobs, if necessary, to help pay the bills. As I said before, I was a janitor for over twenty years and my wife has had numerous jobs.
Many of your genre paintings represent family members carrying out day-to-day activities. What is it about these scenes that inspires you?
Like many artists, I have painted my family: wife, children, and grandchildren. You simply observe them doing their everyday activities and see ideas for paintings. I enjoy painting my family, but I was afraid to use them at the beginning of my career. My wife modelled for several portraits and other works, such as Lentissimo and The Anniversary, but when the children were small I was unsure of my ability to paint a moving target. Children are challenging to paint because they fidget so much and I did not want to resort to photography. I began with some far shots of them in landscapes. I finally conquered my fear of closer subjects, but decided to err on the side of caution and chose a sleeping pose for Andrew in The Anniversary. This worked quite well and I decided to use my children more frequently. They have been very good about posing for me. The first thing they learned was to hold still. The second thing was to only move slightly when asked to adjust the pose. ‘Lower your chin and turn your head to the right’ is usually a small shift, not a move into the other room. That took a while to master.
Involving our children in my work has given us valuable time together since I was gone so often in the evenings. They all seem to have enjoyed posing and have been very willing to act as models for many other projects as well. It also gave them a practical lesson in the complexities of picture making and, I think, improved their appreciation for works of art. Of course, it’s also practical, since it’s hard to find models willing to pose for such long hours. Posing is a job, so I paid my children for working. One of my favourite anecdotes about their modelling is about my son, Andrew. I remember one Saturday morning in particular. He was four and posing for Heroes of the West. He was doing his best to sit still and I could see that he was thinking hard about something. After a while he got an intense expression on his face, looked up at me, and stated in a very serious tone, ‘I’m doing this for the money, right dad?’ He had finally figured out why he was spending his Saturday morning posing in the studio instead of watching cartoons downstairs with his brother and sister. ‘Andrew,’ I replied, ‘you are a very astute and enterprising young man. Yes, you’re doing this for the money. And to help me out too, right?’ He smiled. ‘Yeah.’ It was one of life’s perfect moments.
Rachel Weeping for Her Children, 1991. Oil on canvas, 65" x 36". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Behold the Lamb of God, 1993. Oil on canvas, 54" x 36". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Encomium, 1982. Oil on canvas, 55" x 30". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Behold the Lamb of God, 1993. Oil on canvas, 54" x 36". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Encomium, 1982. Oil on canvas, 55" x 30". Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Are there any drawbacks to painting loved ones?
Certainly. The more you know and love a person, the harder it is to represent them. You have so many memories and strong feelings about them that seem impossible to express in a work of art. No matter how hard I try, I always think that I have somehow missed the mark. They are so wonderful and, by comparison, my work is a mere shadow. By the time some of the paintings are finished we’re attached to them. I now regret having to sell paintings of the family to survive. After spending many hours posing with her younger sister for Bedtime Story, Stephanie cried when we sold it. My wife and I hated to part with works like The Newborn, After the Bath, The Thoughts of Youth, and The Precious One. I now let my family have any works that they want to keep. I also retain the paintings and sketches of our grandchildren.
In 1985 Atelier Lack published the first issue of the Classical Realism Quarterly. In 1992 it was transformed into the Classical Realism Journal and was published by The American Society of Classical Realism, who also published the Classical Realism Newsletter. You were an editorial advisor to the society’s publications and its final president. What was the purpose of these publications?
Their purpose was to educate and inform the public about Atelier Lack, its students and, more broadly, traditional realism. An atelier student, Daan Hoekstra, first suggested the idea to Lack, who had long recognised the need for a publication written by professional artists. In the spring of 1985, with Hoekstra as editor, Atelier Lack began publishing a small black and white periodical, the Classical Realism Quarterly. Most of the publication’s staff and writers were artists or students associated with Atelier Lack or our artist colleagues in Boston. In 1987 Kurt Anderson, another Lack student, took over as editor. Anderson continued in this capacity for four years, developing the acerbic editorial content and initiating the humorous "Current Wisdom" page. He wrote articles and developed the graphic design.
In 1991 The American Society of Classical Realism officially assumed publication of the Classical Realism Quarterly from Atelier Lack. When Kurt Anderson left in 1992 Gary Christensen stepped in as editor. By 1993 we stopped publication for lack of funds and increasing stress on the small staff.
What brought the Journal back?
It was revived through the financial generosity of Fred Ross and the hard work of our editorial staff. My friend, Rebecca Swanson, joined the staff as editor, and in 1993 we published the first issue, which was dedicated to the art of Bouguereau. Peter Bougie later stepped in as editor, aided by Rebecca Swanson and Steven Levin. Because the time and expense needed to produce the Journal was greater, we decided to publish two, rather than four, issues a year. After publication of the Journal ended, we continued to do this through an expanded Classical Realism Newsletter that was written, edited, and designed by me and produced by Gary Christensen. The smaller publication was affordable and took less effort to publish. It provided a way of staying in touch with the membership. The previous newsletters were small publications primarily featuring current events.
What were your roles as president of The American Society of Classical Realism?
In 2003, when Allan Banks stepped down as president of the ASCR, I offered to assume the office if Kirk Richards would accept the vice-presidential nomination and act as exhibition chair. Richards accepted and the Guild voted us into office. We hoped to revitalise and enlarge the Guild of Artists from the increasing number of good painters, and seek out more exhibition opportunities, both in museums and sales galleries. Aside from that, I concentrated on putting together a well-designed and interesting newsletter, did the office work, correspondence, bill paying, and mailing.
When did the Society cease?
It ceased at the end of 2005. Declining membership, diminishing income, and a want of staff made it impossible to continue. That spring I began writing and designing the final 48-page triple issue of the Classical Realism Newsletter. We sold the remaining issues of our publications to Fred Ross of the Art Renewal Center. I don’t know how many copies still remain.
Can you recall the last time you saw Mr. Lack before he passed?
In July 2009 Richard Lack asked if Kirk Richards and I would accompany him to Sin and Salvation, an exhibition of work by William Holman Hunt at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. We spent a fine morning and afternoon at the museum, Kirk and I pushing Lack from room to room in his wheel chair. Lack bought us lunch at the museum restaurant and enjoyed himself immensely. He was in a very good and positive mood. We talked about the strengths and weaknesses of Hunt’s work, but Lack was very impressed by The Lady of Shallot, and called it a masterpiece. This was the last time that I saw Richard Lack. After a week in the hospital, he died on the 22nd of September of heart failure due to complications from pneumonia. I was among many friends and family who were privileged to speak at his memorial service in November.
What effect did Mr. Lack's passing have on those of you that were trained in his lineage?
It was a devastating tragedy for his students. Some, particularly Cyd Wicker and Annette LeSueur, felt an intense obligation to keep the teaching tradition of Lack alive. Many of his other students have taught throughout the years and Jeffrey Larson has recently opened an atelier in Duluth.
Certainly. The more you know and love a person, the harder it is to represent them. You have so many memories and strong feelings about them that seem impossible to express in a work of art. No matter how hard I try, I always think that I have somehow missed the mark. They are so wonderful and, by comparison, my work is a mere shadow. By the time some of the paintings are finished we’re attached to them. I now regret having to sell paintings of the family to survive. After spending many hours posing with her younger sister for Bedtime Story, Stephanie cried when we sold it. My wife and I hated to part with works like The Newborn, After the Bath, The Thoughts of Youth, and The Precious One. I now let my family have any works that they want to keep. I also retain the paintings and sketches of our grandchildren.
In 1985 Atelier Lack published the first issue of the Classical Realism Quarterly. In 1992 it was transformed into the Classical Realism Journal and was published by The American Society of Classical Realism, who also published the Classical Realism Newsletter. You were an editorial advisor to the society’s publications and its final president. What was the purpose of these publications?
Their purpose was to educate and inform the public about Atelier Lack, its students and, more broadly, traditional realism. An atelier student, Daan Hoekstra, first suggested the idea to Lack, who had long recognised the need for a publication written by professional artists. In the spring of 1985, with Hoekstra as editor, Atelier Lack began publishing a small black and white periodical, the Classical Realism Quarterly. Most of the publication’s staff and writers were artists or students associated with Atelier Lack or our artist colleagues in Boston. In 1987 Kurt Anderson, another Lack student, took over as editor. Anderson continued in this capacity for four years, developing the acerbic editorial content and initiating the humorous "Current Wisdom" page. He wrote articles and developed the graphic design.
In 1991 The American Society of Classical Realism officially assumed publication of the Classical Realism Quarterly from Atelier Lack. When Kurt Anderson left in 1992 Gary Christensen stepped in as editor. By 1993 we stopped publication for lack of funds and increasing stress on the small staff.
What brought the Journal back?
It was revived through the financial generosity of Fred Ross and the hard work of our editorial staff. My friend, Rebecca Swanson, joined the staff as editor, and in 1993 we published the first issue, which was dedicated to the art of Bouguereau. Peter Bougie later stepped in as editor, aided by Rebecca Swanson and Steven Levin. Because the time and expense needed to produce the Journal was greater, we decided to publish two, rather than four, issues a year. After publication of the Journal ended, we continued to do this through an expanded Classical Realism Newsletter that was written, edited, and designed by me and produced by Gary Christensen. The smaller publication was affordable and took less effort to publish. It provided a way of staying in touch with the membership. The previous newsletters were small publications primarily featuring current events.
What were your roles as president of The American Society of Classical Realism?
In 2003, when Allan Banks stepped down as president of the ASCR, I offered to assume the office if Kirk Richards would accept the vice-presidential nomination and act as exhibition chair. Richards accepted and the Guild voted us into office. We hoped to revitalise and enlarge the Guild of Artists from the increasing number of good painters, and seek out more exhibition opportunities, both in museums and sales galleries. Aside from that, I concentrated on putting together a well-designed and interesting newsletter, did the office work, correspondence, bill paying, and mailing.
When did the Society cease?
It ceased at the end of 2005. Declining membership, diminishing income, and a want of staff made it impossible to continue. That spring I began writing and designing the final 48-page triple issue of the Classical Realism Newsletter. We sold the remaining issues of our publications to Fred Ross of the Art Renewal Center. I don’t know how many copies still remain.
Can you recall the last time you saw Mr. Lack before he passed?
In July 2009 Richard Lack asked if Kirk Richards and I would accompany him to Sin and Salvation, an exhibition of work by William Holman Hunt at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. We spent a fine morning and afternoon at the museum, Kirk and I pushing Lack from room to room in his wheel chair. Lack bought us lunch at the museum restaurant and enjoyed himself immensely. He was in a very good and positive mood. We talked about the strengths and weaknesses of Hunt’s work, but Lack was very impressed by The Lady of Shallot, and called it a masterpiece. This was the last time that I saw Richard Lack. After a week in the hospital, he died on the 22nd of September of heart failure due to complications from pneumonia. I was among many friends and family who were privileged to speak at his memorial service in November.
What effect did Mr. Lack's passing have on those of you that were trained in his lineage?
It was a devastating tragedy for his students. Some, particularly Cyd Wicker and Annette LeSueur, felt an intense obligation to keep the teaching tradition of Lack alive. Many of his other students have taught throughout the years and Jeffrey Larson has recently opened an atelier in Duluth.
Separation, Reconciliation, Adoration, 1985-86. Oil on canvas mounted to panel, 14'' x 15'' 1¾". Nokomis Heights Lutheran Church, Minneapolis, MN. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Lost Parable, 2000. Oil on canvas, 56'' x 44''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Hem of His Garment, 2001. Oil on panel, 28⅝'' x 20½''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Lost Parable, 2000. Oil on canvas, 56'' x 44''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Hem of His Garment, 2001. Oil on panel, 28⅝'' x 20½''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Was Mr. Lack's passing acknowledged by the Minneapolis community?
The art critics of the Minneapolis paper were generally uninterested in Richard Lack while he was living. However, one prominent critic called me after his death, and I gave her an extensive interview for the Minneapolis Star Tribune reflecting on the immense significance that Richard Lack had in my life. The paper ran a good, comprehensive obituary, but didn’t use most of what I had said. It is fitting to end this interview with a summation of my remarks. “Lack’s artistic significance is two-fold,” I told the interviewer. “Of primary significance was his art. He was a master of most of the genres of Western art. The extraordinary quality of his work is what will ultimately represent him in the annals of art history. Of secondary significance is his atelier. It was a model that set the standard for art education for those that followed instead. What distinguished his school from others in different traditions, however, was very crucial. Like his teacher, Ives Gammell, he taught the ‘dual’ tradition of academic and impressionist art. He emphasised the drawing and form represented by the academic tradition, exemplified by Paxton’s teacher, Gérôme, and the impressionist perception of colour and atmosphere as exemplified by Paxton. Lack incorporated both traditions into his own art and taught them to his students, the best of whom could utilise them according to their individual perception and artistic aims.”
What was your work routine like after finishing your training at Atelier Lack?
I worked during the day under natural light, either in the studio or outside, when doing landscapes. My painting time was arranged around my teaching schedule, children’s activities, and other daytime jobs, such as designing and painting sets or props for theatrical productions. My goal was to paint five days a week. I worked on Saturday and took Sundays off, unless I was painting something perishable, such as flowers. Then I painted Sunday afternoon as well.
The art critics of the Minneapolis paper were generally uninterested in Richard Lack while he was living. However, one prominent critic called me after his death, and I gave her an extensive interview for the Minneapolis Star Tribune reflecting on the immense significance that Richard Lack had in my life. The paper ran a good, comprehensive obituary, but didn’t use most of what I had said. It is fitting to end this interview with a summation of my remarks. “Lack’s artistic significance is two-fold,” I told the interviewer. “Of primary significance was his art. He was a master of most of the genres of Western art. The extraordinary quality of his work is what will ultimately represent him in the annals of art history. Of secondary significance is his atelier. It was a model that set the standard for art education for those that followed instead. What distinguished his school from others in different traditions, however, was very crucial. Like his teacher, Ives Gammell, he taught the ‘dual’ tradition of academic and impressionist art. He emphasised the drawing and form represented by the academic tradition, exemplified by Paxton’s teacher, Gérôme, and the impressionist perception of colour and atmosphere as exemplified by Paxton. Lack incorporated both traditions into his own art and taught them to his students, the best of whom could utilise them according to their individual perception and artistic aims.”
What was your work routine like after finishing your training at Atelier Lack?
I worked during the day under natural light, either in the studio or outside, when doing landscapes. My painting time was arranged around my teaching schedule, children’s activities, and other daytime jobs, such as designing and painting sets or props for theatrical productions. My goal was to paint five days a week. I worked on Saturday and took Sundays off, unless I was painting something perishable, such as flowers. Then I painted Sunday afternoon as well.
Andrew Gjertson, 1998. Pencil on paper, 9⅜'' x 7⅝''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sleeping Beauty, 2000. Oil on canvas mounted to panel, 30⅞'' x 33⅛''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Recorder Lesson, 1981. Oil on canvas, 28'' x 22''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Sleeping Beauty, 2000. Oil on canvas mounted to panel, 30⅞'' x 33⅛''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
The Recorder Lesson, 1981. Oil on canvas, 28'' x 22''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
What was Mr. Lack's manner as a teacher?
Lack was a fine teacher. He was fair, very friendly, and gave good critiques. He assessed what was wrong and often worked on the student’s drawing or painting. In later years, he painted three finished head studies in class as demonstrations. He would assess his student’s personality according to Jungian types and interact with them accordingly. He never intimidated students like he said Ives Gammell sometimes did. Nevertheless, he tried to run a tight ship, allowed no alcohol or drug use, and had no time for disruptive antics. In the first year of the school, he threw one student down the stairs for smoking marijuana. He was tall and well built, so he was a very formidable looking man. Most students respected him and didn’t want to irritate him, at least to his face. One year a conversation between two students erupted into a struggle that resulted in one being thrown into a hallway wall and breaking the wallboard. Lack was furious and made them repair the damage. On the other hand, he had a sense of humour, and enjoyed the silly and often poignant cartoons created by some students. If students questioned his judgment or his authority, he was inclined to leave them on their own. I once heard him say after a critique, “Give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves.”
Do you think there is potential for the ASCR to be revived in our current day?
No, there are many other opportunities available to representational painters working today. They no longer need an organisation to help them express their point of view and promote their work. They can do that through the Internet. Other good organisations, such as ASTA (the American Society of Traditional Artists), also disbanded after a few years. We have several print and online publications that feature the work of representational artists but, in my opinion, their attitude is sometimes too broad and includes work of varying quality.
Do you continue to write articles on artists and the practice of traditional picture making?
I think that I have written everything that I want to about art and artists. Writing has taken a tremendous amount of my time. I assume that most artists who wrote did so in the evening, after the light failed, like Gammell and Lack. Because I had jobs most evenings, or wanted to spend time with my family, I had to write during the day rather than paint. I painted nothing for a year when working on For Glory and For Beauty. My painting time was also severely limited when researching and writing for the ASCR and organising, transporting, and hanging many exhibitions. I have written short stories and screen plays as well. Except for a few personal things, my writing time is pretty much over. I want to paint and enjoy my family.
Henri Fantin-Latour seems to have had a tremendous impact on your still lives. What is it about this artist that has inspired you so deeply?
Charles Cecil introduced me to Fantin’s work when we were studying at Atelier Lack, and I fell in love with his flowers and fruit. Before studying with Richard Lack I had no interest in still life painting. It was boring to me. Seeing Fantin’s still lifes showed me how beautiful they could be. If I was going to do still lifes, I determined to paint only flowers and fruit. They were colourful and living. Fantin painted about eight hundred still lifes, so they vary in quality. The best one are wonderful. I tend to like those that are more carefully arranged and painted. His method was very different from mine. For the most part, he underpainted his flowers and fruit in white and grey and then glazed the colour over it, so some of the flowers look cut out and pasted on. Occasionally the objects are not well integrated with the rather roughly scrubbed in backgrounds. I paint flowers directly in an alla-prima method. That gives me the effect that I am after. Some people, who have seen only small reproductions of my still lives, are disappointed when they see that the flowers are relatively freely painted in the original.
Are there other artists that have had a similar impact on your work?
Like any painter, I admire many artists of the past. One whose life and work are important to me is Hippolyte Flandrin. For some reason, I relate to him as both a person and an artist. I like the landscapes of Thomas Moran, Frederick Church, and Ivan Shishkin. I sometimes use elements of their work in mine as a grateful acknowledgement of the pleasure that their work has given me.
Please outline your current daily routine.
My routine has changed little over the years. I begin working when it gets light, take no lunch, and quit when the light fails. I try to take Sundays off, but will work Sunday afternoon if I am running behind on a commission, or if that is the only time that a model can pose. I no longer have part time jobs or teach, but I will be the Artistic Director of Annette LeSueur’s forthcoming Atelier des Beaux-Arts. Long ago I determined to be available for anything that my family needed, so I will take time off to help our children or grandchildren.
Lack was a fine teacher. He was fair, very friendly, and gave good critiques. He assessed what was wrong and often worked on the student’s drawing or painting. In later years, he painted three finished head studies in class as demonstrations. He would assess his student’s personality according to Jungian types and interact with them accordingly. He never intimidated students like he said Ives Gammell sometimes did. Nevertheless, he tried to run a tight ship, allowed no alcohol or drug use, and had no time for disruptive antics. In the first year of the school, he threw one student down the stairs for smoking marijuana. He was tall and well built, so he was a very formidable looking man. Most students respected him and didn’t want to irritate him, at least to his face. One year a conversation between two students erupted into a struggle that resulted in one being thrown into a hallway wall and breaking the wallboard. Lack was furious and made them repair the damage. On the other hand, he had a sense of humour, and enjoyed the silly and often poignant cartoons created by some students. If students questioned his judgment or his authority, he was inclined to leave them on their own. I once heard him say after a critique, “Give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves.”
Do you think there is potential for the ASCR to be revived in our current day?
No, there are many other opportunities available to representational painters working today. They no longer need an organisation to help them express their point of view and promote their work. They can do that through the Internet. Other good organisations, such as ASTA (the American Society of Traditional Artists), also disbanded after a few years. We have several print and online publications that feature the work of representational artists but, in my opinion, their attitude is sometimes too broad and includes work of varying quality.
Do you continue to write articles on artists and the practice of traditional picture making?
I think that I have written everything that I want to about art and artists. Writing has taken a tremendous amount of my time. I assume that most artists who wrote did so in the evening, after the light failed, like Gammell and Lack. Because I had jobs most evenings, or wanted to spend time with my family, I had to write during the day rather than paint. I painted nothing for a year when working on For Glory and For Beauty. My painting time was also severely limited when researching and writing for the ASCR and organising, transporting, and hanging many exhibitions. I have written short stories and screen plays as well. Except for a few personal things, my writing time is pretty much over. I want to paint and enjoy my family.
Henri Fantin-Latour seems to have had a tremendous impact on your still lives. What is it about this artist that has inspired you so deeply?
Charles Cecil introduced me to Fantin’s work when we were studying at Atelier Lack, and I fell in love with his flowers and fruit. Before studying with Richard Lack I had no interest in still life painting. It was boring to me. Seeing Fantin’s still lifes showed me how beautiful they could be. If I was going to do still lifes, I determined to paint only flowers and fruit. They were colourful and living. Fantin painted about eight hundred still lifes, so they vary in quality. The best one are wonderful. I tend to like those that are more carefully arranged and painted. His method was very different from mine. For the most part, he underpainted his flowers and fruit in white and grey and then glazed the colour over it, so some of the flowers look cut out and pasted on. Occasionally the objects are not well integrated with the rather roughly scrubbed in backgrounds. I paint flowers directly in an alla-prima method. That gives me the effect that I am after. Some people, who have seen only small reproductions of my still lives, are disappointed when they see that the flowers are relatively freely painted in the original.
Are there other artists that have had a similar impact on your work?
Like any painter, I admire many artists of the past. One whose life and work are important to me is Hippolyte Flandrin. For some reason, I relate to him as both a person and an artist. I like the landscapes of Thomas Moran, Frederick Church, and Ivan Shishkin. I sometimes use elements of their work in mine as a grateful acknowledgement of the pleasure that their work has given me.
Please outline your current daily routine.
My routine has changed little over the years. I begin working when it gets light, take no lunch, and quit when the light fails. I try to take Sundays off, but will work Sunday afternoon if I am running behind on a commission, or if that is the only time that a model can pose. I no longer have part time jobs or teach, but I will be the Artistic Director of Annette LeSueur’s forthcoming Atelier des Beaux-Arts. Long ago I determined to be available for anything that my family needed, so I will take time off to help our children or grandchildren.
Recuerdos, 2008. Oil on canvas, 44'' x 40''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Rebecca, 1975. Charcoal on paper, 21½'' x 16½''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Rebecca, 1975. Charcoal on paper, 21½'' x 16½''. Private collection. Image courtesy of: www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Is painting becoming easier or harder as you get older?
Every work is a challenge and that never changes, no matter what age you are. Like most vocations, doing a good job requires concentration and hard work. This is tiring, especially if you are standing all day, and advancing age brings a loss of physical energy. I could no longer paint all day and do janitorial work for six or eight hours at night. I prefer quiet evenings with my wife, watching British mysteries and your lovely Miss Fisher. I am sixty-nine, can’t see as well as I used to, and need magnifying lenses to see clearly at close range. I couldn’t critique pencil drawings anymore, and now draw primarily with chalk. I have been told that you aren’t old until you are eighty, so I am merely in the first decade of upper middle age. I enjoy working every day, and will only stop when physical or mental disabilities keep me from doing a good job.
What are your plans for the future?
I look forward to enjoying my family, working on commissions, and continuing to paint and draw our grandchildren.
During his lifetime, Ives Gammell is quoted as saying, "All the great artists are dead and I don't feel so well myself.” Considering the current proliferation of ateliers and academies, do you think this statement is still true?
No. All of the great artists are not dead. There are many fine figurative and landscape painters working today. Since Richard Lack studied with Ives Gammell, and I studied with Lack, many artists have been trained by others and teach, or have taught, in ateliers around the world. Just look at the list on the Art Renewal Center website. They carry on the many facets of Western European art. Among others, I might mention a few of the artists that I know or have met who are, or have been, serious teachers: Allan Banks, Daniel Graves and Charles Cecil, James Childs and Tom Mairs, Annette LeSueur, Cyd Wicker and Dale Redpath, Jacob Collins, Jeff Larson, and Kirk Richards. I think that good representational art is alive and growing. My hope is that patronage of good representational art also grows, so that skilled artists are able to earn a living from their work.
Every work is a challenge and that never changes, no matter what age you are. Like most vocations, doing a good job requires concentration and hard work. This is tiring, especially if you are standing all day, and advancing age brings a loss of physical energy. I could no longer paint all day and do janitorial work for six or eight hours at night. I prefer quiet evenings with my wife, watching British mysteries and your lovely Miss Fisher. I am sixty-nine, can’t see as well as I used to, and need magnifying lenses to see clearly at close range. I couldn’t critique pencil drawings anymore, and now draw primarily with chalk. I have been told that you aren’t old until you are eighty, so I am merely in the first decade of upper middle age. I enjoy working every day, and will only stop when physical or mental disabilities keep me from doing a good job.
What are your plans for the future?
I look forward to enjoying my family, working on commissions, and continuing to paint and draw our grandchildren.
During his lifetime, Ives Gammell is quoted as saying, "All the great artists are dead and I don't feel so well myself.” Considering the current proliferation of ateliers and academies, do you think this statement is still true?
No. All of the great artists are not dead. There are many fine figurative and landscape painters working today. Since Richard Lack studied with Ives Gammell, and I studied with Lack, many artists have been trained by others and teach, or have taught, in ateliers around the world. Just look at the list on the Art Renewal Center website. They carry on the many facets of Western European art. Among others, I might mention a few of the artists that I know or have met who are, or have been, serious teachers: Allan Banks, Daniel Graves and Charles Cecil, James Childs and Tom Mairs, Annette LeSueur, Cyd Wicker and Dale Redpath, Jacob Collins, Jeff Larson, and Kirk Richards. I think that good representational art is alive and growing. My hope is that patronage of good representational art also grows, so that skilled artists are able to earn a living from their work.
It has been a great honour to interview Stephen Gjertson, and we sincerely thank him for his tremendous efforts in helping to revive the great artistic traditions of the past. If it weren’t for his exhaustive efforts, traditional representational art would not be experiencing its current revival. Thank you Mr. Gjertson. Our thanks are also extended to his children, Stephanie, Philip, Andrew, and Elizabeth, and to his wife, Patricia, for the love and support they have provided to their father and husband throughout the years.
Mr. Gjertson's website:
www.stephengjertsongalleries.com
Mr. Gjertson's website:
www.stephengjertsongalleries.com