The writer, artist, musician, or otherwise creative individual who abuses alcohol or drugs is something of a cliché in the art world. And yet, some of these same individuals are anything but cliché, and occasionally one of them is responsible for an artistic revolution.

Is the chemistry behind creation a catalyst or just a common denominator? In the tragic instance of Edgar Allan Poe, his dependencies were often all that he seemed to have—his vices and his immeasurable talent.

Orphaned as a young child by thespian parents, Poe was raised by John Allan, a merchant from Richmond and a man with whom young Edgar had a tenuous relationship. Poe’s brief enrollment at the University of Virginia in 1826 was marked by gambling and alcohol consumption, and although he was an excellent student, Allan refused to serve as benefactor to Poe’s poor behavior.

In his biography Edgar Allan Poe: Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance, Kenneth Silverman writes of this as the first of many periods of poverty in Poe’s life:

What mostly fed Edgar’s quarrel with John Allan were his financial problems at the university. During the year he accumulated very large gambling and other debts, a burden he blamed on Allan entirely. According to his later account, Allan sent him to Charlottesville with a hundred and ten dollars, which went immediately to pay for board and attendance. . . . Still owing $15 for room rent, $12 for a bed, and $12 more for furniture, payable in advance, he took on debts from the start. In fact, with its grand buildings and substantial faculty salaries, Jefferson’s university was the most expensive collegiate school in America, and a costly style of living prevailed. Most students [maintained] a gentlemanly round of partying, drinking, riding, occasionally even cock fighting. Sent there without enough money for the academic costs, Edgar said, he was “Immediately regarded in the light of a beggar.”

Poe’s time at UVA did, however, serve a more positive purpose. It was here that he began his interest in literature and writing, although to his adopted father’s chagrin, Poe’s tastes often ran toward more popular works. Poe’s brief learning experience in Charlottesville was the prelude to another doomed experience—his time at West Point. Although he was an excellent athlete (at Virginia he long-jumped more than twenty-one feet) and a swimmer, and a superlative student, he continued to be susceptible to alcohol, gambling, and bouts of despair. Spurning his five-year commitment to the academy, Poe left in early 1831, having spent less than a year in service.

Poe had previously published poetry (Tamerlane, 1827) and he again pursued writing, first in New York, then later in Richmond, and later still, in Philadelphia. He published stories throughout the 1830s, and in 1839, his work Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was published. “The Fall of the House of Usher” from this volume is an excellent example of Poe’s vital and terrifying fiction. The following paragraphs from the conclusion of the story contain the moment of horror when Roderick Usher’s sister—having been placed in her grave prematurely—enters the family home.

"Not hear it?—yes, I hear it, and have heard it. Long—long—long—many minutes, many hours, many days, have I heard it—yet I dared not—oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am!—I dared not—I dared not speak! We have put her living in the tomb! Said I not that my senses were acute? I now tell you that I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin. I heard them—many, many days ago—yet I dared not—I dared not speak! And now—to-night—Ethelred—ha! ha!—the breaking of the hermit's door, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of the shield—say, rather, the rending of the coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges, and her struggles within the coppered archway of the vault! Oh whither shall I fly? Will she not be here anon? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste? Have I not heard her footsteps on the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman!"—here he sprung violently to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he were giving up his soul—"Madman! I tell you that she now stands without the door!"

As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been found the potency of a spell—the huge antique panels to which the speaker pointed, threw slowly back, upon the instant, their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust—but then without those doors there did stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold—then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her horrible and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had dreaded.

Death, living interment, and the dark, haunting places beyond the grave are all themes of Poe’s work. His narrators are haunted by voices of loved ones and voices of those who have been wronged. Typical of his horror is “The Tell-tale Heart,” an economically written (2,210 words) story of murder and vindication from the afterworld. It is one of the most famous short stories in the English language and one of the most widely anthologized. Poe is also generally given credit for introducing the detective into fiction. Sherlock Holmes pays a sarcastic tribute to Poe’s creation in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s first Sherlock Holmes adventure, A Study in Scarlet (1887):

"It is simple enough as you explain it," I said, smiling. "You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin. I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories."

Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe. "No doubt you think that you are complimenting me in comparing me to Dupin," he observed. "Now, in my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick of his of breaking in on his friends' thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour's silence is really very showy and superficial. He had some analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means such a phenomenon as Poe appeared to imagine."

Poe achieved fame for his poetry in the 1840s. “The Raven” (1845) is another widely read work that contains an estranged voice. The use of internal repetition, anaphora (repetition occurring at the beginning of successive lines or phrases) and a pulse-like cadence give the work a sophisticated and other-worldly quality.

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no back plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Poe’s obsessions with worlds beyond could have easily stemmed from his unhappiness with his life. Troubled by money, disassociated from his family, and stricken by the loss of his young wife, Virginia, in early 1847, Poe frequently abused alcohol, especially toward his end. He disappeared for several days in the early autumn of 1849, and he was found drunk and fevered in Baltimore. After subsisting miserably in a Baltimore hospital through the beginning of October, Poe succumbed to death, embracing his obsession permanently on October 7, 1849.

The year 2009 contains two Edgar Allan Poe anniversaries: the bicentennial of his birth and the 160th commemorative anniversary of his death. There is no shortage of historical sites to accommodate the Poe fan. Poe museums can be found in Richmond, Baltimore, New York, and Philadelphia; he is buried in downtown Baltimore in the Westminster Burial Ground.

Suggestions for further reading:
Edgar Allan Poe: Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance by Kenneth Silverman (New York: HarperCollins, 1991)
Edgar Allan Poe: His Life and Legacy by Jeffrey Meyers (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1992)
The Life of Edgar Allan Poe by George E. Woodberry (1909: New York: Biblo and Tannen, 1965)

Edgar Allen Poe's memorial grave, Baltimore, Maryland. Photo by Warren Perry.

Close-up of memorial grave, Baltimore, Maryland. Photo by Warren Perry.

Edgar Allen Poe House and Museum, Baltimore, Maryland. Photo by Warren Perry.

Edgar Allan Poe / George Kendall Warren / Albumen silver print, c. 1874, after 1849 daguerreotype / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Dave Woody of Fort Collins, Colorado, has received first prize in the National Portrait Gallery’s 2009 Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition. His photograph, titled Laura (shown on right), was chosen as the winner from a field of more than three thousand entries in every visual arts medium. First prize was a cash award of $25,000 and a commission from the museum to portray a remarkable living American for the NPG permanent collection. Woody’s portrait, as well as works from forty-eight other artists, are on display at the National Portrait Gallery, in the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition exhibition on the second floor.

Of his work, Woody comments, “I am never really attracted to photographing subjects who are totally self-aware or self-confident, as I’m more interested in those people who move through this world with a quiet grace. Spending time with friends allows me to see them in a certain light where their mask drops and something soft and inviting is seen, and I’ll think of making a photograph of them.”

Stanley Rayfield of Richmond, Virginia, received second prize for a painting titled Dad, while third place went to Adam Vinson of Jenkintown, Pennsylvania for his oil-on-panel painting titled Dressy Bessy Takes a Nap. Commended artists are Margaret Bowland, for a her painting Portrait of Kenyetta and Brianna; Yolanda del Amo, for her C-print photograph Sarah, David; Gaela Erwin, for her pastel on paper Baptismal Self-Portrait; and Emil Robinson for an oil-on-panel portrait titled Showered. Each was awarded a cash prize.

NPG Director Martin Sullivan states, “The variety and depth of the entries was encouraging to me since it proved that portraiture is an ever-evolving genre. And best of all, this competition allows the National Portrait Gallery and its visitors to see how today’s artists interpret portraiture in all of its forms.”
Finalists for the 2009 competition were chosen in early May, and the winners were announced at the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition Awards Celebration on Thursday, October 22. In addition, one exhibiting artist will win the People’s Choice Award, in which visitors to the exhibition, both online and in the gallery, may cast a vote for their favorite of the forty-nine finalists. Voting for the People’s Choice Award will close on January 18, 2010.

The competition is named for Virginia Outwin Boochever, a former NPG docent and an ardent supporter of the Portrait Gallery. The exhibition’s catalog describes Mrs. Boochever’s endowment for the portrait competition “as a way to benefit artists directly… as a unique opportunity to fill a void in the American art world.” The works in the Portrait Competition will be on display until August 22, 2010. To view images of the works, see the exhibition Web site.

"Laura" by Dave Woody, winner of first prize. Photo by Warren Perry.

"Dad" by Stanley Rayfield, winner of second prize. Photo by Warren Perry.

“Dressy Bessy Takes a Nap” by Adam Vinson, winner of third prize. Photo by Warren Perry.

Gertrude Stein rings bells, loves baskets, and wears handsome waistcoats. She has a tenderness for green glass, and buttons have a tenderness for her. In the matter of fans you can only compare her with a motion-picture star in Hollywood, and three generations of young writers have sat at her feet. She has influenced without coddling them. In her own time, she is a legend in her own country. . . . Keys to sacred doors have been presented to her, and she understands how to open them. She writes books for children, plays for actors, and librettos for operas. Each one of them is one. For her a rose is a rose and how!

Carl Van Vechten, April 1946

Gradually I told my father that perhaps I would leave San Francisco. He was not disturbed by this, after all there was at that time a great deal of going and coming and there were many friends of mine going. Within a year I also had gone and I had come to Paris. There . . . I met Gertrude Stein. I was impressed by the coral brooch she wore and by her voice. I may say the only three times in my life have I met a genius and each time a bell within me rang and I was not mistaken, and I may say in each case it was before there was any general recognition of the quality of genius in them. The three geniuses of whom I wish to speak are Gertrude Stein, Pablo Picasso, and Alfred Whitehead. I have met many important people, I have met several great people but I have only known three first class geniuses and in each case on sight within me something rang. In no one of the three cases have I been mistaken. In this way my new full life began.

From The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein, 1932

American expatriate writer Gertrude Stein was a high priestess of early-twentieth-century modernism for the many who visited her fabled Paris apartment. She collected and promoted the art of the avant-garde, including that of Picasso and Matisse, and her own abstract, repetitive prose inspired the experiments of playwrights, composers, poets, and painters.

"There was an eternal quality about her," sculptor Jo Davidson wrote. "She somehow symbolized wisdom." He chose to depict her here as "a sort of modern Buddha." Delighted by the sculpture, Stein composed one of her famous prose portraits of Davidson, later published in Vanity Fair alongside a photograph of this work.

Davidson’s sculpture of Gertrude Stein is on view at the National Portrait Gallery in the exhibition “Twentieth Century Americans” on the museum’s third floor. 

Martin Schoeller has exhibited his portraits internationally and has received numerous awards. His photographs have appeared in many prominent magazines, including the New Yorker, Gentleman’s Quarterly (GQ), Vanity Fair, and Rolling Stone.

A native of Germany who now lives and works in New York, Schoeller honed his skills by working with Annie Leibovitz. “Watching her deal with all of the elements that have to come together—subjects, lighting, production, weather, styling, location—gave me an insight into what it takes to be a portrait photographer,” he explains.

Equally important for Schoeller was the photography of the German minimalists Bernd and Hilla Becher, who “inspired me to take a series of pictures, to build a platform that allows you to compare.” Schoeller’s portraiture brings viewers eye-to-eye with the well known and the anonymous. His close-up style emphasizes the facial features, both studied and unstudied, of his subjects—presidential candidates, Pirahã tribesmen, movie stars, and artists—leveling them in an inherently democratic fashion. Schoeller’s photographs challenge us to identify the qualities that may, under varying circumstances, either distinguish individuals or link them together, raising a critical question: What is the nature of the categories that we use to compare and contrast?

Schoeller recently spoke at the National Portrait Gallery, where he discussed his work in “Portraiture Now: Feature Photography.” This exhibition closed on September 27, 2009, but you can still view the online exhibition.

Listen to Martin Schoeller's gallery talk (29:24)

Listen to talks by photographers Steve Pyke and Alex Soth, who were also part of “Portraiture Now: Feature Photography.”

Jack Nicholson / Martin Schoeller / Digital C-print, 2002 / Published in Entertainment Weekly, January 3, 2003 / Collection of the artist, courtesy Hasted Hunt, New York City / © Martin Schoeller

“I have tried to get from my Great Father what is right and just,” exclaimed Red Cloud to government officials at the conclusion of his first trip to the East in 1870. Two years earlier, the celebrated Lakota leader had forced U.S. authorities to abandon a series of newly constructed forts meant to protect settlers moving across traditional Native lands.

Beginning in 1870, however, Red Cloud would choose diplomacy, not warfare, to protect the Lakota’s land base and to ensure the tribe’s political and cultural independence. Although the westward migration of American settlers would continue largely unabated, Red Cloud remained dedicated to the future welfare of the Lakota, meeting with five different U.S. presidents over a period of thirty years.

Washington photographer Charles M. Bell seated Red Cloud next to a papier-mâché rock and a painted seascape backdrop for this portrait, taken during one of the Lakota leader’s many trips to the nation’s capital.

Frank Goodyear, associate curator of photographs at the National Portrait Gallery, recently discussed Red Cloud at a Face-to-Face portrait talk. This 1880 portrait by Charles M. Bell is on view at the Portrait Gallery, in the exhibition “Faces of the Frontier: Photographic Portraits from the American West, 1845–1924,” on the museum’s second floor.

Listen to Frank Goodyear's Face-to-Face talk on Red Cloud (33:03)

Face-to-Face occurs every Thursday evening at the National Portrait Gallery. The next Face-to-Face talk is this Thursday, October 8, when NPG’s Maya Foo speaks about Joshua A. Norton. The talk runs from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m. Visitors meet the presenter in the museum’s F Street lobby and then walk to the appropriate gallery.

Red Cloud 1821–1909 / Charles M. Bell (1848–1893) / Albumen silver print, 1880/ National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C

If you did not write a term paper on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 novel The Scarlet Letter, it is possible you did not go to high school in the United States. Having to write a comparison paper on The Scarlet Letter and Arthur Miller's The Crucible is almost as ubiquitous as having to memorize the prologue to The Canterbury Tales, or at least it was at one time.

Later on, if you went to an American college or university and took a literature course, you probably were hit with “Rappaccini’s Daughter,” “The Birthmark,” or “Young Goodman Brown,” the three most widely anthologized of Hawthorne’s short stories. Like The Scarlet Letter, these short stories are dark and haunting; Hawthorne’s vision of man is a moral one, and the plight of man is forever to battle his inclination toward sin. British writer D. H. Lawrence said, “The Scarlet Letter isn't a pleasant, pretty romance. It is a sort of parable, an earthly story with a hellish meaning.”

Nathaniel Hawthorne was born on Independence Day, 1804, in Salem, Massachusetts—an auspicious birthplace and one that would provide a gothic geography for his work. He attended Bowdoin College in Maine and was friends with a young man named Franklin Pierce, who would become the fourteenth president of the United States. Hawthorne was also at Bowdoin with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, although they were not close until much later.

Hawthorne lived in Concord, Massachusetts, for a few years in the Old Manse, which is located on the site of the Concord battlefield.  Later, he worked for the Custom House in Salem. Among his friends were Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Herman Melville, and his later works included The House of the Seven Gables and The Blithedale Romance.

The Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts. Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson both called The Old Manse home for a time. Photo by Warren Perry.

Nathaniel Hawthorne / Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze / Oil on canvas, 1862 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; transfer from the National Gallery of Art; gift of the A.W. Mellon Educational and Charitable Trust, 1942

Photo by Warren Perry

Selig said that Lasorda was the perfect ambassador for baseball. Steve Garvey, one of the greatest first baseman ever to play the game, said of his old boss, Lasorda, “It is truly fitting that baseball’s national treasure is now part of the Smithsonian’s collection of treasures.”

Lasorda led the Dodgers to two world championships in 1981 and 1988. Later he served as manager of the first U.S. baseball team; that same team won a gold medal in Sydney, Australia, in the 2000 summer Olympics.

The new image of Tommy Lasorda was painted by Everett Raymond Kinstler. Kinstler’s work is in many major American collections and he is also represented in the NPG collection with his images of, among others, Katharine Hepburn, Gerald Ford, and Arthur Ashe. Of his portrait of Lasorda, Kinstler commented, “I know Tommy bleeds Dodger blue, and I tried to represent him as such.”

Tommy Lasorda by Everett Raymond Kinstler is now on display in the “New Arrivals” exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.

Thomas Charles Lasorda / Everett Raymond Kinstler / Oil on canvas / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

James Fenimore Cooper wrote the first great American novel, and then he wrote the second, third, and fourth as well.  Born in New Jersey as James Cooper on this date in 1789, he added Fenimore (his mother’s maiden name) as a middle name years later.  His family moved to Otsego County, New York when he was a child and James’ father founded the community now called Cooperstown, home to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Cooper’s “Leatherstocking Tales” are the fictional stories of Natty Bumpoo and the first excursions onto the American frontier.  The character of Bumppo and legends of such real heroes as Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett provide the American literary landscape with the great archetypal outdoorsman and adventurer.  Cooper imbued Bumppo with traits like independence and courage, and gave him strong senses of adventure and justice. 

Those traits of the isolated frontiersman—friend of the native American, something of a pariah in his own world—are handed down to our later heroes in the genre of cowboy/western age. James Fenimore Cooper successfully predicted the rush westward and the thin tolerance the adventurer would have for the increase of civilization as well as the thin tolerance civilization would have for the adventurer.  Once the lands between the oceans were conquered, Cooper foresaw, this character’s way of life would be obsolete.

Cooper was also sympathetic to the plight of the native American, stating in his introduction to The Last of the Mohicans (1831), “The Mohicans were the possessors of the country first occupied by the Europeans in this portion of the continent.  They were, consequently, the first dispossessed; and the seemingly inevitable fate of all these people, who disappear before the advances, or it might be termed the inroads of civilization, as the verdure of their native forests falls before the nipping frost, is represented as having already befallen them.  There is sufficient historical truth in the picture to justify the use that has been made of it.”

James Fenimore Cooper died the day before his sixty-second birthday in 1851; he is buried in Christ Churchyard, Cooperstown, New York. This circa 1827 portrait of Cooper, by Amélie Kautz De Lacepede, is part of the collections at the National Portrait Gallery.

James Fenimore Cooper / Amélie Kautz De Lacepede / Lithograph on paper, c. 1827 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution                      

Everyone knows cigarettes are evil, but they are still powerful symbols of both sophistication and febrile intelligence. The very fine African-American painter Beauford Delaney (1901-1979), did this pastel drawing of his friend, the poet May Swenson in 1960 back when everyone smoked but the addition of the cigarette enhances the edginess of the portrait. 

Just as Delaney was a realist painter in an age of abstraction, Swenson, not unlike her contemporary Elizabeth Bishop, was interested in conveying depth through an intense evocation of the surface of things.  She wrote that the desired “to get through the curtain of things as they appear, to things as they are, and then into the larger, wilder space of things as they are becoming.”

Her tone could range from the brutal straightforwardness with which she described her mother in the mortuary— “My dumpy little mother on the undertaker’s slab/had a mannequin’s grace”—to the whimsical word play in  “Analysis of Baseball:”  “Bat waits/for ball/to mate./Ball hates/to take bat’s/bait. Ball/flirts, bat’s/late. . .” A westerner, born in Utah to a family that spoke Swedish at home (she has translated Tomas Transtromer), Swenson became especially well known for her landscape poems and love poems in which her lesbianism registers but does not restrict their impact.

May Swenson / Beauford Delaney / Drawing, 1960/Pastel and chalk on paper/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian

The ramifications of the attacks continue to define American foreign and domestic policies and extend to this moment in the shaping of our economic and defense strategies. The creation of the largest government agency, the Department of Homeland Security, was a direct result of the September 11th tragedy. Like December 7, 1941, the resonance of September 11, 2001, will be felt for generations, if not centuries.

But always will our whole Nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.  No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.  I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.  Hostilities exist.  There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger.  With confidence in our armed forces—with the unbounding determination of our people—we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God.

                                                          *****

Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices: secretaries, business men and women, military and federal workers, moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror. The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge

Franklin Delano Roosevelt / Douglas Granville Chandor / Oil on canvas, 1945 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

George W. Bush / Robert Anderson /Oil on canvas, 2008 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution / Gift of American Fidelity Foundation, J. Thomas and Stefanie Atherton, William S. and Ann Atherton, Dr. Jon C. and Jane G. Axton, Dr. Lee and Sherry Beasley, Thomas A. Cellucci, A. James Clark, Richard H. Collins, Edward and Kaye Cook, Don and Alice Dahlgren, Mr. and Mrs. James L. Easton, Robert Edmund, Robert and Nancy Payne Ellis, Dr. Tom and Cheryl Hewett, Dr. Dodge and Lori Hill, Pete and Shelley Kourtis, Tom and Judy Love, David L. McCombs, Tom and Brenda McDaniel, Herman and LaDonna Meinders, The Norick Family, Kenneth and Gail Ochs, Robert and Sylvia Slater, Richard L. Thurston, Lew and Myra Ward, Dr. James and Susan Wendelken, Jim and Jill Williams