Singer and actress Lena Horne helped break the color barrier in mainstream popular culture in the mid-twentieth century, beginning her stage career in the chorus at Harlem's Cotton Club in 1933, where Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway mentored her.

In 1942 Hollywood beckoned, but her roles were often musical cameos that southern theaters could cut; Horne once said that Stormy Weather and Cabin in the Sky were the only films "in which I played a character who was involved in the plot."

Lena Horne became Hollywood's highest-paid African American actor, and her renditions of "Stormy Weather" and "Just One of Those Things" were considered classics. During this time, Horne also became a vocal spokesperson for civil rights. She also continued to enjoy a successful nightclub and recording career, and triumphed in the 1980s with her one-woman show, Lena Horne: The Lady and Her Music. 

Ann Shumard, curator at the National Portrait Gallery, will discuss Lena Horne at a Face-to-Face portrait talk, at 6pm on Thursday, February 11.  Her talk is part of a series of Face-to-Face talks celebrating Black History Month. 

Lena Horne / Edward Biberman / Oil on canvas, 1947 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution / © 1947 Edward Biberman

     Art © Robert Vickrey/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY

Jerome David Salinger had one of the great successes of all time with The Catcher in the Rye (1951). He then vanished, publishing only a few collections of short stories and emerging only to sue people who attempted to write about him; his last publication was in 1965. Yet Catcher in the Rye remains a classic. Its teenaged narrator Holden Caulfield’s account of a weekend in Manhattan continues to speak to disaffected adolescents kicking against the “phonies.” It has sold more than 65 million copies worldwide and is still occasionally banned by education administrators who fear its corrupting impact on alienated youth.

Here, in a way that Salinger (and Caulfield) would have appreciated, artist Robert Vickery interprets the book’s title literally and paints the author against an amber wave of grain. The portrait was created for the September 15, 1961, edition of Time magazine.

J. D. Salinger by Robert Vickrey, 1961, tempera on board; National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Time magazine

The Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery announces today that Margaret Bowland of Brooklyn, N.Y., has been awarded first prize for the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition 2009 People’s Choice Award. A cash prize of $500 will be given to the artist. The Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition includes two different awards. The expert jury selected the 49 pieces featured in the exhibition and the seven prize winners. Visitors to the exhibition, both in the gallery and online, then cast votes for the People’s Choice Award, selecting their favorite of the exhibited works. Voting closed January 18.

Bowland’s work was also recognized by the expert jury as a commended entry. Her oil-on-linen work titled “Portrait of Kenyetta and Brianna” depicts three figures in white makeup dressed in the two traditions of bride and geisha. Bowland commented on her work for the wall label in the exhibition: “My girls became…images requesting acceptance and protection through ritual purification.The painting is a scene of victory over these rites. My bride and her doubled flower girl look out at us. True, tradition covers them in white, but who they are shines through as their eyes meet ours.”

“The People’s Choice Award is an opportunity to engage our visitors—both online and in the exhibition—in a conversation with contemporary portraiture,” said Brandon Fortune, acting director and curator of painting and sculpture of the museum. “By asking visitors to vote, we inquire, ‘Which of these portraits speaks to you?’”

Matthew Mitchell of Amherst, Mass., and Sonia Paulino of Los Angeles were voted for second and third place, respectively. Mitchell’s oil-on-canvas painting "Portrait 23, Rick Yarosh" depicts Staff Sergeant Rick Yarosh, a burn survivor from a roadside bomb explosion in Iraq. Paulino’s photograph, “Samuel and Thalia, Echo Park,” shows a man holding his dog in the park.

The Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition 2009 received more than 3,300 entries from emerging and mid-career portrait and figurative artists from across the United States. The next entry period will be announced in 2011. Finalists for the 2009 competition were chosen in early May, and the winner, Dave Woody of Fort Collins, Colo., was announced at the Portrait Competition awards celebration in October.

Expert jurors for the competition were Wanda M. Corn, professor emerita in art history at Stanford University; Kerry James Marshall, artist; Brian O’Doherty, artist and critic; and Peter Schjeldahl, art critic for The New Yorker. Jurors from the National Portrait Gallery were Martin E. Sullivan, director; Carolyn K. Carr, deputy director and chief curator; and Fortune.

This competition is made possible by the generosity of Virginia Outwin Boochever, whose gift fosters the acquisition of innovative contemporary portraiture for the Portrait Gallery. This triennial event invites figurative artists to submit entries to be considered for prizes and display at the National Portrait Gallery. The exhibition is open to the public through August 22.

Portrait of Kenyetta and Brianna / Margaret Bowland / Brooklyn, New York / Oil on linen, 2008 / 203.2 x 182.9 cm (80 x 72 in.)

The most public warrior in the fight against prohibition, W. C. Fields was born William Claude Dukenfield in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Fields is one of the most quotable entertainers in history:

Once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.

I like to keep a bottle of stimulant handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy.

His father was a vegetable peddler, and W. C.’s attitude was not always congruent with that of his old man. Wes Gehring records:

An eleven-year-old Fields had left a small shovel in the yard. His father stepped on it [and was struck] in the shin. Young Fields found this funny, and father promptly bounced the shovel off the boy’s head. Fields . . . eventually decided upon, and successfully executed, the dropping of a wooden crate on his father’s head. Feeling that it would now be difficult to maintain any working rapport with Mr. Dukenfield, not to mention the inherent dangers of such one-upmanship, Fields ran away from home.

Although Fields was intermittently on reasonable terms with his family, he left home for good during his teen years and worked in vaudeville with an act consisting of juggling and visual gimmickry. In his thirties he joined Ziegfeld’s Follies for several years and then began a career in Hollywood. Fields’s unusual voice and curmudgeonly demeanor were his most notable traits, and the consumption of alcohol was a central motif in his work.

Fields disdained society, religion, and niceties. The only movie role of traditional literary merit Fields occupied was that of Mr. Micawber in the George Cukor–directed production of David Copperfield (1935). Charles Dickens was Fields’s favorite writer. More in the direction of his penchants, Fields starred in My Little Chickadee with Mae West in 1940. Among his many other noteworthy films were International House (1933), The Bank Dick (1940), and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941).

Fields’s love of alcohol did not serve his longevity; in the mid-1930s he fell into poor health. Although he rallied and returned to film, his earlier prediction of living for a century did not pan out. Although there are many different stories about what his final words might have been (“On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia” is a myth), the simple truth is that Fields died quietly at a sanitarium in Pasadena on Christmas Day 1946.

William Claude Fields / Joseph Grant / India ink and pencil on illustration board / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Carol Grubb and Jennifer Grant Castrup

William Claude Fields / Roman Freulich / Gelatin silver print, 1940 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Cited:
Curtis, James. W. C. Fields: A Biography. New York: Alfred Knopf, 2003.

It is possible that Elvis may be more famous in death than in life.

Elvis’s performance career lasted slightly under twenty-three years. After his death on August 16, 1977, writer and Elvis biographer Bobbie Ann Mason said, “It seemed inconceivable that Elvis—just forty-two years old—was gone.” Although Elvis left the world behind on that day, the world refused to let go of Elvis.

Within hours after his death, Elvis’s picture flashed across all forms of media. The shock wave was absorbed by a stunned public that soon found itself in sympathy with the young man from Tupelo, Mississippi, who had made the journey from poverty to wealth, from obscurity to notoriety, and from fame to icon.

The post-Elvis fascination first manifested itself in the form of sympathetic and not-so-sympathetic biographies. Since 1977 the canon of printed literature invoking the name of Elvis has grown larger yearly, including scholarly contributions like Erika Doss’s Elvis Culture (1999), philosophical works such as David Rosen’s The Tao of Elvis (2002), and a surfeit of non-academic books like Brenda Butler’s Are You Hungry Tonight? (1992). Films about Elvis appeared as early as 1979 (Elvis: The Movie), and later films such as the haunting Mystery Train (1989) and the conspiratorial Bubbahotep (2002) feature dark and fantastic Elvis portrayals.

The world of visual art also became a repository for images of Elvis after his death—tributary, allegorical, and satirical. Today, Elvis is the subject of works by artists from every part of the earth and in every form and medium possible. His face is no longer the face of the man who sang, danced, and played the good guy on the silver screen; rather, it is the face of an icon whose metamorphic character echoes the views and passions of the artists who portray him.

Robert Arneson received his MFA from Mills College in 1958 and taught at the University of California at Davis from 1962 until just before his death in 1992.

Warren Perry, curator of the "One Life: Echoes of Elvis" exhibition, recently discussed Robert Arneson's portrait of Elvis Presley at a Face-to-Face portrait talk. 

Listen to Warren Perry's Face-to-Face talk on Elvis Presley (19:01)

Face-to-Face occurs every Thursday evening at the National Portrait Gallery. The next Face-to-Face talk is this Thursday, January 28, when Denise Wamaling of the Smithsonian American Art Museum speaks about the portrait Elvis Presley by William Eggleston. 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.

Elvis Aron Presley / Robert Arneson / Glazed Ceramic, 1979 / Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of the Sydney and Frances Lewis Foundation, 1985 / Art © Estate of Robert Arneson / Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY

From Muhammad Ali, the world has received lessons in poetry, charity, and how to lead with an explosive right.  Ali's fights with George Foreman and Joe Frazier comprise some of the greatest chapters in boxing history.  His story is illustrated in moments like the lighting of the Atlanta Olympic torch in 1996 and the infamous ABC studio brawl in 1974; however, he is also captured elegantly and provocatively on canvas in Henry Casselli's Cat's Cradle (above).

In Henry Casselli: Master of the American Watercolor, Donald Hoopes states that the cat's cradle of string "became the central motif of the Ali portrait, as the idea went through development from pencil study to . . . the final oil painting."  The image is slightly paradoxical, as the massive Ali toys with the string.  Hoopes adds, "On an obvious level, the cat's cradle suggests the ropes of the boxing ring.  But the contrast between the delicate strings and Ali's powerful form prompts a more subtle reference to Ali's famous description of his boxing style, ‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.’"

Among Muhammad Ali's stunning victories was the "Rumble in the Jungle."  On October 30, 1974, in Kinshasa, Zaire, against a heavily favored George Foreman, Ali began the fight by leading into Foreman with his right. He connected more than a dozen times—which sent a message to Foreman that Ali thought Foreman was too slow to counterpunch. Ali then fell back for a few rounds into the ropes (the famous “rope-a-dope”) and let Foreman tire himself with punches that fell onto a well-protected Ali.  And although witnesses—among them writer George Plimpton—thought "the fix is in" when Ali went to the ropes so early, Ali's strategy served him well; Foreman was counted out in the eighth round.

In 1984, Ali told the world he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease; like the warrior he is, Ali has fought the illness for twenty-five years.  In 2005 he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, one of the many honors given him that signify his greatness as an athlete, an American, and a person.

Muhammad Ali / Henry C. Casselli, Jr. /  Oil on canvas, 1981 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of the Sig Rogich Family Trust

On view in the new exhibition “One Life: Echoes of Elvis”

Elvis Presley released hundreds of records throughout a career that spanned slightly more than two decades. He also starred in thirty-one feature films and two documentaries. He was photographed throughout his career, and images of him on film are part of the American visual experience. However, the King of Rock and Roll only sat for one portrait painter—Ralph Wolfe Cowan.

Elvis sat for Cowan in 1969, and Cowan produced the portrait that hangs today at Graceland. At the time, Cowan also made sketches for this portrait but left them alone until 1988, when he completed this work. At the time this portrait was drafted, Elvis was transitioning from making films to performing live; from 1968 until his death in 1977, he toured regularly. Of Elvis, Cowan said, he “was funny and had charisma that was bigger than life. I enjoyed our friendship.”

Cowan’s portrait is on display as part of the National Portrait Gallery’s new exhibition “One Life: Echoes of Elvis.”  This one-room exhibition marks the seventh-fifth anniversary of Elvis Presley’s birth and also includes works by William Eggleston, Red Grooms, Robert Arneson, and others.

Listen to an interview of artist Ralph Wolfe Cowan by “Echoes of Elvis” curator Warren Perry (22:33)

Elvis Presley / Ralph Wolfe Cowan (born 1931) / Oil on canvas, 1976–88 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of R. W. Cowan

Barry Goldwater, late senator from Arizona and longtime Smithsonian supporter, would have celebrated his 101st birthday on January 1.

Goldwater’s loss to Lyndon Johnson in the 1964 presidential election was a setback to the far right wing of the Republican Party, but his candidacy foreshadowed the GOP’s shift toward a more conservative base, a shift that would eventually propel Ronald Reagan to the White House.

Former NPG historian Maggie Christman states:

Out of Barry Goldwater’s losing campaign in 1964 came the Reagan revolution of 1980 and by happenstance brought Barry Goldwater into an official connection with the National Portrait Gallery.  In keeping with the recommendation of Smithsonian Secretary Dillon Ripley, the chairman of the Portrait Gallery’s Commission customarily came from the Smithsonian Board of Regents. Goldwater, a Regent since 1977, was chosen as a replacement for the Democrat who had lost his election and with it his appointment as a Regent from the Senate.

Previously Goldwater—an ardent photographer of the landscape and people of Arizona—had helped with the passage of the January 1976 bill giving the Portrait Gallery the right to collect photographs. He remained on the Commission long enough to shepherd a bill through the Congress allowing the Portrait Gallery to acquire the Frederick Hill Meserve collection of 4,419 glass-plate negatives from the Mathew Brady studio, but resigned on April 21, 1982. “It has become perfectly obvious to me that I have neither the time nor the background nor the ability to continue as Chairman of the National Portrait Gallery,” he wrote in his characteristic blunt and honest way. “My concern and my interest is entirely in western art, and I have never been able to bring myself around to becoming excited about art of any other type.”

Goldwater’s primary contribution to the Smithsonian was recognized in 1987 when, at a dinner in the Portrait Gallery’s Hall of Presidents, he was presented with the Samuel P. Langley Gold Medal for his lifelong contribution to aviation and his seminal role in the building of the National Air and Space Museum.

Goldwater was a conservative’s conservative. His campaign button in 1964 (below) read, “Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice; moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.” Goldwater died in 1998.
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Barry Goldwater / Unidentified artist / Pin, 1964 / Smithsonian Institution 

Barry Goldwater / Burton Philip Silverman / Gouache and pencil on paper, c. 1988 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; purchased with funds provided by the Robert Lehman Foundation, Inc.

Sarah, David by photographer Yolanda del Amo is on display at the National Portrait Gallery as part of the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition 2009. Del Amo’s portrait, and works from forty-eight other artists, are on display until August 22, 2010.  To view images of the works, see the exhibition Web site.

Sarah came to visit me in my studio one day and she was carrying some folded boxes under her arm. I asked her what they were for, and she told me that she was moving out of her place, and also ending her marriage. This triggered a long, cathartic and very personal conversation about relationships and our shared experiences. It set the foundation of our friendship, and also the inspiration for the photograph Sarah, David. This piece is part of the body of work entitled Archipelago (2004–in progress), in which I explore relationships and their boundaries. My work focuses on what happens between the represented figures, and it understands the physical spaces where such interactions take place as a psychological extension of the characters.

Listen to Carolyn Carr’s Face-to-Face talk on Sarah, David by Yolanda del Amo  (23:10)

One exhibiting artist will win the People’s Choice Award, in which visitors to the exhibition, both online and in the gallery, may vote for their favorite of the forty-nine finalists. You can cast your vote here.  Voting will close on January 18, 2010.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" 

Clement Clarke Moore / Mathew Brady Studio / Glass plate collodion negative, undated / Frederick Hill Meserve Collection / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution