A detailed history of Canada’s groundbreaking painters
Canadian author Ross King has made a career of taking art history and crafting it into surprisingly enthralling bestsellers. Having previously read his fascinating book The Judgment of Paris, about the rise of French Impressionism, I was excited when I found out that King had written a book on some of my favorite artists, The Group of Seven. Defiant Spirits, published in 2010, tells the story of these groundbreaking painters who strove to forge a distinctly Canadian school of modernist painting at a time when Canada struggled to find its national identity.
I have previously read several books on the Group of Seven, including F. B. Housser’s contemporary account A Canadian Art Movement, but their story has always felt incompletely told. Defiant Spirits is the most comprehensive history of the Group I’ve ever come across. Even so, for such an important group of artists, it still feels as if there’s surprisingly little extant documentation on their lives. The bulk of King’s book is comprised of historical context—what was going on in Canada at the time these painters were active. While the reader gets a meticulous history of Canada during World War I, for example, often the narrative of the artists’ lives just reads like a history of lakes they visited, with little concrete insight into what actually went on there. If the source material is sparse, however, King does a great job of wringing it for all it’s worth.
As is often the case with books about the Group of Seven, some members are given preferential treatment over others. Here as usual Tom Thomson, Lawren Harris, A. Y. Jackson, and J. E. H. MacDonald receive the most in-depth examination and are credited as the driving forces behind the formation of the Group, with Arthur Lismer and Frederick Varley regarded as second-tier members. King provides a surprising amount of information about Varley—in fact, far more than I’ve ever seen him covered in any other book on the Seven. As is often the case, Frank Johnston and Franklin Carmichael are treated as lesser contributors, perhaps because they were less actively involved in the promotion of the Group, but likely also because they generally get an unjustified lack of respect from art historians for producing the most “graphic” or “decorative” work of the original members, as opposed to the others’ more post-impressionistic style of painting. Carmichael is almost absent from King’s narrative, to a shameful degree. The later members to join the group—A. J. Casson, Edwin Holgate, and Lionel LeMoine Fitzgerald—are only mentioned by name once or twice in the epilogue. In a book where we get a mini-biography of every artist, critic, politician, and fishing guide the Group ever met, couldn’t King have at least given the same treatment to the three artists that the Group invited into their ranks?
The book ends with the 1924 British Empire Exhibition at Wembley Park, London, where the Group were featured in an exhibition showcasing Canadian art. This stopping point feels inconclusive because although the Group were praised by British critics, they still had failed to find much appreciation in their home country. In an epilogue, King explains that there is still little consensus among Canadians as to the value of their most famous painters. Fans of the Group of Seven, who are used to adulatory coffee-table treatments of the artists, will find King’s perspective surprisingly ambivalent. He takes a refreshingly even-handed approach, taking varying critical responses into consideration. Due to this rather dispassionate tone, Defiant Spirits may not be the page-turner that The Judgment of Paris was, but it is highly informative and fills in a lot of the blanks in the historical record of these remarkable artists’ lives and careers.
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The Group of Seven’s Greatest Hits
Though little known south of the border, Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven are widely considered Canada’s greatest visual artists. Through their idiosyncratic blend of impressionism and fauvism, they produced stunning depictions of Canada’s northern landscape and founded a uniquely Canadian school of art. Northern Lights provides a gorgeous overview of their illustrious careers.
This is first and foremost a coffee-table book, not a scholarly monograph nor an in-depth art historical treatise. The introductory essay is only five pages long. In it Joan Murray provides a nutshell summary of the Group of Seven for newcomers, while sprinkling it with enough new material not to bore the tears out of those already familiar with the plethora of existing books on the subject (many written by Murray herself). In compensation for the brief opener, the bulk of the book’s text appears interspersed throughout the gallery of 118 color plates. Each pictured work is accompanied by a paragraph or few offering valuable context as to where, how, and why each painting was created. In general these entries are quite informative, though at times Murray has a tendency toward excessive psychological speculation, as in “The artist must have been thinking [insert thought here] as he was painting this.” Really, must he?
The works pictured here for the most part represent a “greatest hits” collection of the Group’s most famous paintings. You won’t find much in the way of unusual departures, like Johnston’s airplanes or Harris’s Kandinskyesque abstractions. The masterpieces are arranged roughly in chronological order. Whenever possible, preliminary sketches are pictured alongside completed canvases, so you really get a good idea of the process behind the creation of these landmark paintings. Like many books on the Group of Seven, it stresses the work of the higher-profile “senior” members—Tom Thomson, Lawren Harris, J.E.H. MacDonald, A.Y. Jackson, and Arthur Lismer—at the expense of the remaining “junior” members of the movement. I really like the work of some of the less-appreciated masters—Franklin Carmichael, Frank Johnston, A.J. Casson, and Edward Holgate in particular—so their scant representation here is a disappointment. I can’t deny, however, that this is a fabulous collection of artwork reproduced beautifully in an elegantly designed package. Among the many Group of Seven books I’ve seen, I would rank this one second only to the mammoth volume by David P. Silcox that came out in 2006. Whether you’re a Canadian who grew up amidst such masterpieces, or a foreigner who discovered them later in life (like me), Northern Lights will make a beloved addition to your art library.
A. Y. Jackson, The Edge of the Maple Wood, 1910, oil on canvas, 25.75 x 21.5"
Franklin Carmichael, Northern Silver Mine, 1930, oil on canvas, 47.75 x 40"
Edwin Holgate, Totem Poles, Gitsegiuklas, 1927, oil on canvas, 31.875 x 31.75"
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Lacking in detail and insight
I’ve read a lot of books on the Canadian painters The Group of Seven, but mostly of the coffee table variety. Hoping for some more detailed biographical information on these artists, I turned to this book, which is often cited as a source in the bibliographies of said coffee table books. First published in 1926, when most of the artists in the movement were still alive and active, this biography of the Group was written by F. B. Housser, an art collector, friend of the artists, and, judging by his writing, their biggest booster. Unfortunately, despite its over 200 pages of length, there’s not a great deal of useful information here above and beyond what you find summarized in the brief introductory essays of heavily illustrated volumes.
This book contains no illustrations, which is just fine for a biography. The problem is, due to the lack of pictures, Housser feels the need to fill many pages—entire chapters, in fact—with descriptions of paintings. While this was a common practice in early 20th century art criticism, today’s reader can just type the title of a painting into Google and see what it looks like. There’s little need or desire to read page after page of “orange trees in the foreground, purple mountains in back,” etc. Housser also quotes long excerpts from exhibition reviews, most of them derogatory towards the group. This may be of interest to historians, but not particularly useful to those who are simply admirers of the painters and their work. It’s odd how little biographical information seems to be available on the members of the Group, even basic facts like who was married and who had kids are absent from this account. Most of the biographical information contained here consists of travel itineraries—who went on which painting trips to what geographical locations and when. There are excerpts from letters written by the painters, mostly praising the scenery of the locations they visited. Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the book is that it really only discusses five artists: Tom Thomson, Lawren Harris, A.Y. Jackson, Arthur Lismer, and J.E.H. MacDonald. There might be one page each on Franklin Carmichael and F. H. Varley; the other artists associated with the Group are barely mentioned, if at all.
Housser repeatedly hammers home the point that these artists were breaking with the traditions of Europe, creating their own uniquely Canadian form of expression. The clear light of the Canadian North, he claims, could not be reproduced by the traditional methods of the Barbizon school, and demanded a new style of painting. He also stresses that these artists were uneducated in academic methods, then contradicts himself when he tells of their trips to Europe to study painting. Housser continually tries to create the illusion that the Group of Seven sprung up in a vacuum, with little ties to the past. It comes across as a disingenuous assertion. Those who truly enjoy the Group of Seven’s work may find a few nuggets of inspiration and enlightenment within this inadequate account of their lives and careers, but it’s too dull and uninformed to hold the attention of most readers. If there is a really good detailed biography of the Group of Seven out there, I haven’t found it yet.
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Ambitious in scope, inconsistent in execution
Tom Thomson was a Canadian landscape painter, active from around 1907 until his untimely death in 1917. He was associated with the painters known as the Group of Seven, and is considered by many of his countrymen to be one of the most important visual artists in the history of Canada. In this book, artist George A. Walker has created a wordless narrative of Thomson’s life and death comprised of 109 wood engravings. The mysterious circumstances surrounding Thomson’s drowning in Algonquin Park have led to the formation of various theories as to the ultimate cause of his death, including murder. In the book’s three-page introduction, Tom Smart very briefly summarizes these theories. He then goes on to compare the life of Thomson to the Epic of Gilgamesh, which seems a bit of a stretch. More satisfying is the equally brief afterword by Walker in which he discusses the influence of Thomson’s art upon his own work.
Pre-equipped with an interest in the subject matter, a love of Thomson’s paintings, an enthusiasm for woodcut illustration and pictorial narrative, and a limited familiarity with Walker’s prints, I expected to like this book a lot more than I did. The illustrations included here exhibit a consistency in style but an unfortunate inconsistency in quality. Not all are as compelling and attractive as the cover image. The couple dozen really excellent prints in the book make one wonder why so many of the others look rushed, poorly thought out, or crudely executed. The sinewy stroke of Walker’s engraving tool is most effective when emulating Thomson’s landscape paintings, but when applied to figures and faces it often yields misshapen heads and limbs. There are moments of brilliance throughout, like a wooden chair emerging sublimely from a shadow, or a conglomeration of rough, structural strokes that coalesce into a locomotive. Overall, however, the book left me with the feeling that I would have preferred to see a collection of 109 landscape prints.
Walker succeeds in capturing and infectiously transmitting Thomson’s love for the natural world. As for the storytelling, however, without prior knowledge of Thomson, the images alone would not suffice to convey the story of his artistic career and demise. Due to the nonverbal nature of wordless narrative, ambiguity is an inherent quality of the woodcut novel. At times, however, Walker crosses the line from ambiguity to a lack of visual clarity, and the reader finds himself asking questions like “What's that he's holding in his hand?” or “Who’s that second figure supposed to be?” These are questions one never needs to ask from the wordless novels of Lynd Ward, Frans Masereel, or Laurence Hyde.
Despite my reservations, Walker should be commended for keeping the art form of the woodcut novel alive. This book is beautifully designed. The typography, layout, and paper choices, coupled with Walker’s at times beautiful artwork, make for a stunning package. Unfortunately, he seems to have bit off more than he could chew with this entry into pictorial literature. On the one hand, Thomson’s story is perhaps too big to be told in 109 illustrations; on the other hand, the overall quality of the art would have benefited from fewer images. Walker admirably navigates the waters between this rock and hard place, but does not emerge unscathed.
See the publisher’s web site for more images from the book:
http://www.george-walker.com/Tom_Thomson/Thomson.html
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Extraordinary artists, extraordinary book
First, a brief lesson for the uninitiated: The Group of Seven, along with fellow painter and inspirational leader Tom Thomson, were a group of Canadian painters active from around 1910 to the mid-1930s. Known predominantly for their landscapes, these eleven artists (yes, eleven; not seven; it’s a long story) revolutionized the art of their nation by rejecting the traditions of European painting in favor of Canadian subject matter and a uniquely Canadian aesthetic. By combining elements of impressionism, fauvism, and art nouveau they created their own style of painting which has had an unparalleled influence on the history of Canadian art.
David Silcox has put together the ultimate tribute to these amazing artists. The 70-odd pages of text in this book are very well-written, covering the formation of the group, their travels across Canada, and the cultural ramifications of their work. Though the essays offer enlightening reading, the main attraction here is the collection of 400 images. This is one coffee-table book that truly needs a coffee table. The mammoth size of this tome is a challenge to its own binding. It proves, however, that as far as content is concerned, size truly does matter. If you were going to put together a book on the Group of Seven, how would you do it? Would you show the most famous and memorable images, or search for hidden, unpublished gems? In a book this size you can do both! And Silcox does. Would you organize the images by artist, by subject matter (still lifes, portraits, World War I, etc.), or by geographic location (Algonquin Park, Rocky Mountains, the Arctic, etc.)? With a book this big, why choose? Do all three! Different portions of the book are arranged accordingly. Most books on the Group of Seven make the mistake of devoting too much space to the “big five”: Tom Thomson, Lawren Harris, J. E. H. MacDonald, A. Y. Jackson, and Arthur Lismer. Silcox finally gives the “minor” members their due respect. Franklin Carmichael, F. H. Varley, Frank Johnston, Edwin Holgate, A. J. Casson, and Lionel LeMoine FitzGerald are all well-represented, and they hold their own against the big guns of the Group. About two dozen black and white drawings are included; the rest of the works are all paintings. The book doesn’t include any printmaking, which is unfortunate, since a few of the members—notably Carmichael, Casson, and Holgate—really excelled in that medium.
Browsing through these pages is the next best thing to strolling the hallowed halls of the McMichael Collection or the Art Gallery of Ontario. The Group of Seven have never looked so good in book form. This volume is elegantly designed, and the paintings are beautifully reproduced. Here and there one could quibble over the selection of images, but overall it’s hard to imagine another book improving upon this one. After setting the bar this high, perhaps the next step will be a digital catalog raisonné on DVD. Until that day comes, Silcox’s compendium will remain the ultimate visual reference on these artists.
Franklin Carmichael, October Gold.
Tom Thomson, Northern River
Frank Johnston, Fire Swept, Algoma
A. J. Casson, Mill Houses
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