Have you ever really looked at an Edward Hopper painting? I mean, really looked? I ask this because I never did until I took a creative writing course in 1998. The instructor assigned us to write about any piece of Hopper’s we chose. I chose Road in Maine. I had looked at his paintings many times, but before that assignment I had never really seen any of them. I find myself looking at his work now, three years later, while doing research for Monhegan Island, Maine and seeing if for the first time again.
Edward Hopper was born July 22, 1882 in Nyack, New York to a modest, yet influential family. He already knew he wanted to be an artist by the time he reached his seventeenth birthday in 1899. His parents, who sent him in the direction of commercial illustration, always encouraged him in this creative venture. They felt this to be the best decision for him because it could provide for a more secure future.
His first school he attended was at the New York School of Illustrating. The New York School of Art followed this in 1900 where William Merritt Chase instructed him. Following that educational endeavor, he worked and learned under the direction of Robert Henri, calling him, “one of the most influential teacher I had.”
Every artist dreams of studying and crafting their medium in Paris. Edward Hopper not only lived this dream once in October of 1906 with the help of his parents, but two more times in 1909 and 1910. In the midst of these adventures, he never sold one piece. His first commission was not made until 1913. This did not discourage him, however, his first solo exhibition in 1920 at the Whitney Studio club may have. He did not sell one single painting there either.
When he turned thirty-seven, he began working as a printmaker and with watercolors. He found these mediums sold more readily to the average consumer, hence he was able to earn a living. Despite his attempts to stay away from this field, he found himself working more and more toward a career in commercial illustration. His second show, 1924 at the Rehn Gallery in New York, sold out. This happened to be the same year he married his wife and fellow student, Jo Nivison.
The rest of his career was filled with terrible creative blocks. It is a wonder how he was able to carry on such a pursuit. He died in isolation and virtually forgotten in 1967. His wife died shortly after, only ten months later.
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