Summer Interior, Edward Hopper. 1909; Oil on canvas; Whitney Museum of American Art, New York
I cannot remember if I have seen this painting of Hopper’s before. If I have, then it certainly did not catch my attention. Yet, as soon as I saw a reproduction of it on Google Images, it struck me as being of particular interest. What is happening in this painting? The source of light is somewhat enigmatic, though it seems to be redolent of the light and warmth of evening. Moreover, the lassitude and posture of the young woman evokes the day’s end, and not the torpor of morning; the deadened will to start the day. Of her face, we can see nothing; only her body language speaks to us. Nothing in the painting suggests that she has been with a lover or that a lover is expected: she is solitary. She is not ‘chasing the American dream’. Perhaps other speculations could be made about this young woman’s situation, but I think they are unnecessary; the mystery needs to be kept intact. Hopper has said, ‘If you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint.’ However, more can be said about the composition, colour, and drawing of Summer Interior without the least diminution of its mystery.
It may seem strange to talk about drawing when looking at a painting. Yet insofar as painting is figurative then it must be underpinned by sound draughtsmanship, or it is nothing. It is quite clear that the figure in Summer Interior is drawn from life: it is too natural to have been drawn [sic] from the imagination. This, however is not to say that the entire scene was painted from life: the girl holding the pose as patiently as a model in a life–class. Quite apart from any other considerations, light changes — under any conditions — much faster than any artist can record it. Summer Interior is — like the vast majority of paintings — a studio work based on sketches and drawings. Moreover, it will, in the course of its production, have resulted in something utterly different from Hopper’s original conception. There is a sense in which even the materials — the sediments of metal and earth which comprise the artist’s media — ‘take over’ at some points, and assume the position of ‘director’. Intentionality has its limits, but in this painting I think that Hopper has fully realised an intended depiction of his subject’s state of mind.
Hopper’s model is beautifully drawn and proportioned: she sits and leans with complete conviction. Her descending left arm forms a pleasing echo to that of the inclination of her head, and a contrast to the vertical of the bedpost. The sweeping diagonal of the pulled–down sheet turns neatly under her thigh, and follows round to form the contrasting diagonal of her left leg — which in turn connects with the sharp diagonal of the white mat.
I commented above that the light source is somewhat enigmatic: it seems to be coming from the right — as evidenced by the shadow on the girl’s shoulder — and yet there is no expected shadow cast on the carpet by the bedpost. Why should this be so? Because the dark contrast of the shadow on the shoulder is needed, whereas a shadow–shape on the carpet would have been a distraction. Moreover, the near black of the bedpost is painted at its base in ochre — as if caught by the sun — to avoid a distracting contrast with the girl’s foot. (Details of finger and toes are also omitted, as they would be distractions — in this particular painting.)
Hopper’s colours are not those of the Impressionists: they are those of the urban / suburban environment in which he lived and worked. In a room such as that of Summer Interior, you could not expect a finely woven carpet, carefully chosen for its colour(s). The painting is quite brash in this respect: an over–yellowed emerald green; a muddy olive green; a deep and near–black brown (dominating the left of the painting); a mustard yellow bed cover. Nevertheless, these colours work well together — and the red stripes on the bed cover provide just the right highlight for the painting.
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On the subject of drawing, I sometimes wonder what has happened to that of Lucien Freud. The painting here illustrated — of Kate Moss — seems to me to be outstandingly bad. The left forearm, depending from the elbow down across the pillow looks as disjointed as a badly made doll’s… Moreover, the entire figure looks as if it is floating in air, rather than being supported by the bed and the pillow. The brush strokes too, are crude and aimless. A canvas for the bonfire, in truth!
Next blog: Les repasseuses (Women Ironing), Degas
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