Oddly enough, my grandmother, herself a docent at the National Portrait Gallery, much enjoyed the gritty works of George Bellows. Reserved and genteel by nature, she didn’t shy from controversial or grotesque art. Maybe it was the novel combination of a crudely impressionistic technique and harshly realistic urban scenes. Palpably raw but also smart. Frozen yet in action. Shocking and somehow beautiful. Apparently Bellows would frequent Sharkey’s Athletic Club, which was a saloon with a boxing ring at the back. Public fights were illegal in NYC at the time but clubs like this were a loophole. In this work, a brutal contest is given motion by his dynamic composition, with most of the attention focused on the blood-smeared combatants. And one cannot miss the racial overtones. It was the following year (July 4, 1910) that Jack Johnson famously defeated Jim Jeffries in the 15th round of the “Battle of the Century” in Reno, Nevada. It was a heavyweight championship bout that was fully promoted as an epic showdown between the two races. Johnson’s victory dashed dreams of a “great white hope” and triggered race riots in 50 cities that left at least 20 dead. There’s a lot going on in this painting and Mimi knew it!
After seeing the piece several times, I finally homed in on what was surely another theme of Bellows’ work. The crowd. A mob’s mentality. He conveys the frenzied spectators in various states of excitement from the morose to the ecstatic. We see ghoulish mask-like facies, cigar-smoking fat cats, crazed red-mugged punters, mouths in open scream (see Francis Bacon), and others in cadaveric repose. A real rogues’ gallery. A bettor’s noir, this abattoir. Great fun had by all! And this dodgy crowd scene somehow reminded me of the opening line of Al Stewart‘s song “Year of the Cat” (since all roads here lead to the 70’s):
“On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime“
All this to say, don’t forget to search the background/corners of paintings for rich but hidden details. Sometimes it’s where the real action lives.
But what was his meaning? What’s this say about us? That maybe we’re enjoying the carnage too much (looks like a damn Trump rally)…
Each man has his story. Each has his own reasons. But when will the fresh blood go out of season?
They say, “Don’t hate the player, just hate the game.” Game says it’s people who pay that should bear the blame.
Great Exudations 