The Golden Age of Illustration - Maxfield Parrish

Dinky Bird, 1904, from Eugene Field's Poems of Childhood.

When I was 19, a friend gave me a poster of the above work by Maxfield Parrish. She said it reminded her of me.  I was very pleased, as I fell in love with it upon first sight.  She was about a decade older than me and had been a real hippie, so I was especially flattered.  It hung in every bedroom I had until it finally got damaged in a move.  But the dreamy print always made me feel peaceful, and was my first piece of art as an adult.

Princess Parizade Bringing Home the Singing Tree,
1906, from Arabian Nights.

Frederick Parrish was born in Philadelphia in 1870.  He later adopted his maternal grandmother's maiden name as his middle one, Maxfield, eventually using it professionally.  His father, Stephen, was an engraver and landscape artist, and his parents encouraged him.  He was doodling even as a child.  He once studied architecture, which is evident in many of his later paintings, but it was in drawing and painting that he concentrated his efforts.

One of his drawings as a teenager.  Image from Young Maxfield Parrish
by John Goodspeed Stuart, T.H. Pickens Technical Center, 1992.

His first commissions were to illustrate L. Frank Baum's Mother Goose in Prose, and Kenneth Grahame's The Walls Were as of Jasper for Scribners Magazine, in 1897.  All of his 19th century illustrations were in black & white.  It was in a subsequent period that he began painting in the colors he became and remains famous for - particularly "Parrish blue".  When he was thirty, he came down with tuberculosis.  He went to Arizona to recuperate, and that's when his career took off.

The Walls Were as of Jasper, 1897, Scribners Magazine.

The Golden Age, from a 1904 photogravure edition.
This and the image above courtesy of the book
The Black & White Parrish, Thumb Tack Books, 1982.

He illustrated Eugene Field's Poems of Childhood in 1905, and The Arabian Nights in 1909; in 1910 he illustrated A Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales.  He had many magazine commissions in the 1910s and 1920, including Hearst's, Collier's, and Life.  He was also a favorite of advertisers, including Edison-Mazda Lamps, Colgate, and Oneida Cutlery.

A 1918 ad for Djer-Kiss.

In 1905, a 16-year-old woman, Susan Lewin, came to work for his family as his son's nanny.  She became his assistant and a favorite model (mostly in the 1920s); then eventually they became lovers.  His wife left him in 1911; however Susan remained with him for over 50 years.

Collier's, November 1929.

His androgynous nudes in fantasy settings were a recurring theme, but in the 1920s he turned from illustration and concentrated on painting for pleasure.  He lived off the royalties from his posters and calendars, then in 1931 he declared he was through with "girls on rocks".  He directed his attention to landscapes, and often built models and lit them as preparation for his paintings.

White Birches, 1952.

Photographs do not do his paintings justice.  He worked in oils on stretched paper. He would apply numerous layers of thin, transparent oil, alternating with varnish, which lead to high luminosity, a process called glazing.  He also photographed, enlarged, or traced figures and objects, then cut them out and placed them on his works and covered them with thick, clear layers of glaze, giving them a three dimensional appearance.

Cadmus Sowing the Dragon's Teeth, 1910,
 in A Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales
by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Although it was Air Castles (a 1904 Ladies' Home Journal cover) that gave him wide exposure, Daybreak is considered his masterpiece.  His work was widely reproduced in posters, calendars, and candy box lids, and is still in demand.  By the time of his death at age 95 in 1966, he was able to see a renaissance of interest and promotion of his work.  He was the most popular American artist from the turn of the century until the 1940s, when Norman Rockwell became his heir apparent.

Air Castles.

Daybreak.

Maxfield Parrish shaped the Golden Age of illustration, and influenced American visual arts for decades.  His work experiences new surges of interest as each new generation discovers it.  Daybreak is considered the most popular art print of the 20th century, judging from the number of prints that have been made.  It has outsold Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans and even Da Vinci's Last Supper, and is still in print.  By all accounts he was affable and well-liked.  How fortunate to be so successful at doing what you love!

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Unless otherwise noted, all images courtesy of Wikipedia.

The National Museum of American Illustration has the largest body of his works.

This website has interesting information on Parrish.

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Rude, Lewd, Crude, and Here to Stay...

There once was a lady named Cager,

Who as the result of a wager,

Consented to fart,

The entire oboe part

Of Mozart's quartet in F-major.

Recognize this poetry form?  Let's see...vulgar humor (check), impolite wordplay (check), AABBA rhyme scheme (check), why it must be a limerick!

Limericks appear throughout the broad span of the English language, from pubs to Shakespeare.  Don Marquis, the humorist and playwright, stated that there are three types of limericks:  limericks to be told when ladies are present; limericks to be told when ladies are absent but clergymen are present; and LIMERICKS!  This comment well illustrates the bawdy and lewd notoriety limericks have.

Although its history is obscure, some say the limerick originated in France during the Middle Ages, then crossed the English Channel.  An alternative origin is said to be the pubs of the Irish town of Limerick, but most likely that's where the name originated, but not the concept.  Other sources claim a 14th century origin from pubs.  Wherever they began, the limerick is here to stay.

Mother Goose rhymes associated the limerick forever with children's literature:

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a great spider,
Who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

In 1846, over a century after the Mother Goose rhymes were published, Edward Lear's Book of Nonsense was published, somewhat of a benchmark for the form.  Lear preferred the word "nonsense" to "limerick" no doubt because of the limerick's reputation.  One of his famous ones was:

There was a Young Lady whose chin,

Resembled the point of a pin;

So she had it made sharp,

And purchased a harp,

And played several times with her chin.

Composed of five lines, the limerick has a strict rhyme scheme and a catchy rhythm.  The first two lines rhyme, the third and fourth lines rhyme, and the fifth either rhymes with the first two, or repeats the first line.  Simply put (or "dumly" put) it follows an AABBA rhyme pattern like this:

da DUM da da DUM da da DUM

da DUM da da DUM da da DUM

da DUM da da DUM

da da DUM da da DUM

da DUM da da DUM da da DUM

(Note:  one of my favorite jokes is a limerick, but I will not publish it here.  It is only for pubs.)

Punch magazine in the 1860s, inspired by Lear's book, ran limerick contests and for a while limericks became a big craze.  Although the fad died out, the limerick still lived on.  A remarkable roster of  authors have engaged in limerick writing:  Ogden Nash, Rudyard Kipling, H. G. Wells, T. S. Eliot, James Joyce, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Lewis Carroll, and Mark Twain were among them.  But perhaps most surprising is Isaac Asimov's book, Lecherous Limericks, published in 1975.   It contains 100 limericks he wrote, of which the following was the first:

There was a sweet girl of Decatur,
Who went to sea on a freighter.
She was screwed by the master,
- An utter disaster -
But the crew made up for it later.

That limericks have been constructed by a wide sweep of people, from pub crawlers to formal poets, makes them folk literature.  They are also truly an English poetry and literary form, since the rhyme scheme and rhythm make them difficult to write in other languages.

I like this modern limerick by Sheila Anne Barry:

There was an old puzzler, Ben Ross,
Who died - doing crosswords, of course,
He was buried, poor Ben,
With eraser and pen,
In a box six feet down, three across.

My favorite limerick story is my own.  One holiday season when I was able and did work a lot of overtime, I had a night off which I needed to do some gift shopping.  My 13-year-old cousin cajoled me into taking him out to dinner (truth be told, I loved hanging out with him!), and I acquiesced with the caveat that we would be going to a bookstore first.  Once in the store he headed to a bargain display, and I walked around to the other side.  All of a sudden I heard his very loud voice call out:  "Hey, Linda.  What's a bl*w j*b?"  He had found a book of limericks.  In total panic I quickly thought, "Nobody knows I'm Linda.  Simply walk out of the store."  Just as I had this realization, the good-looking man standing next to me said, "Judging from how red you are turning, you must be Linda."  I spent the rest of the evening refusing to discuss the words I told him never to say in public, and referring him to his father for the answer, thus losing my coolest adult in the world status.

I will end with a limerick from the Bard himself (Othello, Act II, Scene III), just to balance the above with a loftier tone, even though as limericks go it's kind of a washout.  (BTW, a canakin is a small can used as a drinking vessel, from a Dutch word):

And let me the canakin clink, clink;

And let me the canakin clink.

A soldier's a man;

A life's but a span;

Why, then let a soldier drink.

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