American painting and its tradition

In Short

This book offers a critical history of the American "Society of American Artists" generation, focusing on nine influential painters: Inness, Wyant, Martin, Homer, La Farge, Whistler, Chase, Alexander, and Sargent. It tracks their collective shift from untrained, idiosyncratic amateurs to disciplined, technically rigorous masters who studied abroad to bring European craftsmanship home. By analyzing their distinct styles—from Inness’s atmospheric landscapes to Sargent’s sharp-eyed portraiture—the book argues that technical proficiency is the essential, non-negotiable foundation of all lasting art, serving as a legacy for every generation that follows.

The Story

The narrative begins with a diagnostic problem: American painters of the late 19th century were a rootless lot. Unlike their European counterparts, they lacked a continuous "aesthetic legend" or domestic tradition of training. They grew up on farms or in counting-houses, turning to art in their twenties as a secondary pursuit. Consequently, the early years of this movement were defined by a desperate, hurried acquisition of foreign techniques—mostly French and German—to compensate for a lack of inherited skill.

The arc of the book follows the progression of these nine figures through three distinct tiers of development. First, the "earlier men"—Inness, Wyant, and Martin—represent a bridge between the old, sentimental Hudson River school and a new, more refined focus on atmosphere, light, and nature’s "eternal repose." These men, despite their lack of early training, possessed a profound, almost spiritual connection to the landscape. They transitioned from the detailed, "niggling" realism of their youth to broader, more suggestive styles after exposure to European masters like Constable.

The second tier, the "middle men"—Homer, La Farge, and Whistler—represents a shift toward detachment and self-sufficiency. Homer is portrayed as a man who grew from a literal reporter of facts into a master of design, though he often struggled to reconcile his illustrative instincts with his color sense. La Farge stands alone as the "Olympian," the one figure who possessed an actual artistic upbringing, having been born into a household filled with old-master reproductions. His work in glass and murals serves as the ultimate example of synthesis, where disparate influences—like Japanese landscapes and Italian figures—are transmuted into a unified, personal vision. Whistler, meanwhile, represents the cosmopolitan rebel, whose career is defined by his move to Paris and his eventual ascent to international fame, despite persistent personal and professional conflicts.

The final group—Chase, Alexander, and Sargent—represents the culmination of the movement’s goal: the establishment of modern craftsmanship as the "grammar of art." These men were the product of the very institutions the movement helped create. They were, first and foremost, brilliant technicians. Chase is presented as the quintessential teacher, a man who believed that a "dashing manner" was the hallmark of the artist, while Alexander brought a decorative grace to portraiture. Sargent, the most famous of the three, is analyzed as the ultimate objective observer, a painter who rejected the emotional burden of "sentiment" in favor of cold, precise recording.

The book concludes by framing this generation’s contribution not as the invention of a uniquely American style, but as the establishment of a standard. Because these men successfully transplanted the rigors of European training to American soil, they saved the next generation from the homelessness of the past. The "tradition" mentioned in the title is not a specific look or subject matter, but the professionalization of the act of painting itself.

How It Unfolds

The vacuum of tradition The author establishes that the artists of 1878 entered a field devoid of formal guidance. Without an artistic ancestry, these men were forced to become "empty-handed" travelers to Europe to learn the basic mechanics of their trade.

The landscape of sentiment Inness, Wyant, and Martin are profiled as the pioneers who sought to imbue the American scene with emotional weight. Their evolution from meticulous, stiff realists to masters of atmosphere serves as the first real step toward a mature American vision.

The detachment of the masters The focus shifts to Homer, La Farge, and Whistler, who treat painting as an intellectual pursuit rather than a simple recording of nature. Here, the struggle is between the "illustrative" impulse and the "pictorial" design, with La Farge emerging as the standard-bearer for sophisticated, multi-disciplinary art.

The reign of the craftsman The final movement centers on Chase, Alexander, and Sargent, who represent the arrival of the professional. By prioritizing technique and "good workmanship," they establish a stable foundation for the future of American art, arguing that the vision of the artist is meaningless without the ability to execute it.

The People

The artists are categorized by their temperaments and their relationship to the canvas. George Inness emerges as the romantic heart of the group, a man who viewed the landscape as a vessel for spiritual sentiment, famously prioritizing the "hushed" feeling of a rainy day over the mere physical reality of the scene. Alexander Wyant and Homer Dodge Martin are his counterparts; Wyant matures from a detail-oriented painter into a poet of light, while Martin, despite chronic vision problems, finds serenity in the balance of nature.

Winslow Homer is presented as a stubborn realist who slowly learns to trade his "reporter’s" eye for a more "monumental" sense of design, yet he remains trapped by his own early habits. John La Farge acts as the intellectual anchor, a polymath who blends his deep knowledge of history and glass-work to create transcendent murals. James McNeill Whistler appears as the volatile, cosmopolitan outsider, whose success is marked by his ability to navigate international art circles while maintaining a singular, tonal vision.

Finally, William Merritt Chase, John White Alexander, and John Singer Sargent are the modernists. Chase is the charismatic showman who believes that "method is art itself," training hundreds of pupils in the joy of the brush. Alexander brings a refined, decorative simplicity to the domestic portrait, and Sargent—the most detached of all—remains the cool, clinical observer who refuses to let emotion cloud his technical precision.

In Its Own Voice

"None of the American painters spoken of in these pages, with the exception of La Farge, came from what might be called an artistic family, or had æsthetic antecedents."

The author underscores the professional isolation of the generation that preceded the 1878 movement.

"Rivers, streams, the rippling brook, the hillside, the sky, clouds--all things that we see--can convey sentiment if we are in the love of God and the desire of truth."

Inness explains his philosophy that the civilized landscape is inherently more significant than the savage one.

"He suggested his theory of art in a single sentence: 'You see things that way' (pointing slightly to the left) 'and I see them this way' (pointing slightly to the right)."

Sargent summarizes his pragmatic, observation-based approach to the artist’s point of view during a dinner in Gibraltar.

What It's Really About

The central argument concerns the necessity of technical rigor as the prerequisite for artistic freedom. The book rejects the romantic notion that art is purely a matter of innate genius, asserting instead that it is a discipline learned through labor and apprenticeship. It explores the tension between "illustration" (telling a story or recording a scene) and "pictorial design" (the formal arrangement of light, color, and line). By tracing how these artists evolved from copyists to masters, the book poses a fundamental question: does a nation’s art rely on its heritage or its training? The answer provided is that while heritage is helpful, a solid foundation of craftsmanship is the only way to ensure the continuity of a culture’s visual identity.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the history of ideas or the biographies of artists will find this book particularly rewarding. It reads like a long, reflective conversation with a critic who has spent a lifetime in galleries and studios. The prose is precise and dignified, though it retains the 1919 cadence of its author, reflecting the era’s academic sensibilities and its occasional penchant for long, descriptive lists.

The book is honest about the struggles of its subjects—their financial failures, their bouts with poor health, and the sheer difficulty of trying to build a career in a country that had not yet learned to value their work. While some of the specific painters discussed may feel distant to the modern eye, the core argument—that an artist must be a master of their craft before they can express their soul—remains strikingly relevant in an age of rapid aesthetic shifts. The reader will walk away with a profound sense of the "building-up" process that created the American art world. It is a work of patience, meant for those who want to understand the labor behind the masterpiece and the quiet, persistent effort of those who "turned the furrow" for the artists of today.