The Visual Arts in the Work of Louisa May Alcott
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[CONCEPT, Vol. XXXV (2012)] “Proper for a lady’s brush”: The Visual Arts in the Work of Louisa May Alcott Alexandra Edwards English Visual artists and their art abound in the fiction of Louisa May Alcott. Spanning both her novels and short stories, her domestic fiction and her lesser known gothic and feminist fictions, art serves as a frequently-recurring motif that allows Alcott to explore ideas about femininity, domesticity, self-sacrifice, mortality, independence, and morality. Many of Alcott’s characters are working artists; many of her stories, including “Psyche’s Art,” “The Sunny Side” (from An Old-Fashioned Girl), the unpublished fragment Diana and Persis, and her best-known work, Little Women, portray artists at work in the creation of specific objects of art. Though Alcott’s artist figures have been written about extensively,1 much less has been said about the art itself. Even the “Art (Theme)” entry in The Louisa May Alcott Encyclopedia deals primarily with the creators of said art, and barely touches upon the individual objects themselves (Eiselein and Phillips 23-24). While Alcott’s portrayals of artists can vary widely,2 her narrative tone towards visual art objects remains much more consistent throughout her body of work. The sensibility displayed across Alcott’s fiction values art primarily for its usefulness in moral applications. Art in service of a moral purpose is met with praise; however, an art object that cannot be mobilized in the building or articulating of a system of ethics – be it domestic, feminist, or religious – is narratively derided or mocked. In addition to her characters’ fictional art creations, Alcott populated her works with specific mentions of real visual art objects, ranging from ancient Greek works to contemporary pieces. In doing so, Alcott places her fiction within an ongoing conversation about the purpose of art. Her insistence upon the moral application of art is notably related to that of English art critic John Ruskin, whose writings on art were extremely influential in the mid-19th century and would not 1 See, for example: Elizabeth Keyser, Whispers in the Dark: The Fiction of Louisa May Alcott; Beverly Lyon Clark, “A Portrait of the Artist as a Little Woman”; Ann B. Murphy, “The Borders of Ethical, Erotic, and Artistic Possibilities in Little Women”; Veronica Bassil, “The Artist at Home: The Domestication of Louisa May Alcott”; Natania Rosenfeld, “Artists and Daughters in Louisa May Alcott’s Diana and Persis.” This list is by no means exhaustive. 2 While the female artists in “Sunny Side” are paragons of a utopian feminism, Cecilia in “A Marble Woman or, The Mysterious Model,” suffers from a “self-destructive addiction” (Eiselein and Phillips, 195) and weakness in the face of the controlling Bazil Yorke. Within the pages of Little Women alone, artistic sister Amy March is depicted in a variety of both positive and negative lights. have been unknown to Alcott.3 In a series of lectures delivered in 1870, Ruskin outlines his vision of the “three principal directions of purpose” which the “great arts” have: “first, that of enforcing the religion of men; secondly, that of perfecting their ethical state; thirdly, that of doing them material service” (Ruskin 82). The attitude towards art in Alcott’s fiction touches but briefly on the first purpose, and is entirely skeptical of the third, but agrees wholeheartedly with the second. Ruskin himself took extra care to explain this point. “I do not doubt but that you are surprised at my saying the arts can in their second function only be directed to the perfecting of ethical state, it being our usual impression that they are often destructive of morality. But it is impossible to direct fine art to an immoral end, except by giving it characters unconnected with its fineness, or by addressing it to persons who cannot perceive it to be fine” (Ruskin 82-83). Ruskin seeks to allay fears about art that would corrupt its viewers, and Alcott’s fiction displays a way of thinking about art very much in line with Ruskin’s. Praiseworthy art in Alcott’s stories performs some kind of moral function. Art that does not perform such a moral function is not viewed as immoral but rather silly, useless, and deserving of scorn. This paper will closely explore a small selection of the art objects which appear in a few of Alcott’s stories – primarily those created by Alcott’s fictional women, but also real world art objects created by well-known, mostly male, artists – in order to articulate Alcott’s narrative insistence on the moral utility of art. “The Sunny Side,” a chapter of the children’s book An Old-Fashioned Girl (1870), brings together several of Alcott’s themes surrounding art and artists, including female friendship, art in service of the domestic, and a cheerful simplicity, in a notably utopian depiction of a small community of women. In the chapter, cousins Fanny and Polly visit the house of Polly’s friends Becky and Bess, artists who, as Polly describes, “live together, and take care of one another in true Damon and Pythias style. This studio is their home,–they work, eat, sleep, and live here, going halves in everything. They are all alone in the world, but as happy and independent as birds” (Alternative Alcott 228-229). Polly’s idealized description of them prizes their art and their domestic cooperation equally. Their studio is not just studio but also home. It is not enough that they are successful artists; rather, they are successful specifically because they have combined art and domesticity. The four girls contrast each other significantly, creating oppositional pairs, a narrative technique that Alcott returns to again and again in her fiction. Fanny is a worldly city girl, in contrast to Polly’s more innocent country background, and with this comes the suggestion of class difference between the two; Becky, the sculptor, is “tall, with a strong face,” while Bess, the engraver, is “a frail-looking girl” (229). Furthering the motif, Polly calls she and Fanny “us lazy ones” who will “look on and admire” while Becky and Bess continue creating their art (229). However, Becky moves quickly to incorporate Polly into her art: “‘You are just what I want, Polly. Pull up your sleeve, and give me an arm while you sit; the muscles here aren’t right, and you’ve got just what I want,’ said Becky, slapping the round arm of the statue, at which Fan was gazing with awe” (229). The statue is the art object at the center of both the girls’ and the 3 As will be mentioned below, Ruskin wrote about his admiration of the work of Alcott’s artist sister, Abigail May (Alcott) Nieriker; in addition, Alcott mentions Ruskin by name in “Psyche’s Art.” story’s attention, and it is a symbol both of feminine power and feminine morality. Becky asks Fanny to describe what it means to her, and within moments, both of the supposedly “lazy” girls are caught up in the moral project of the art object itself. Fanny does not know “whether it is meant for a saint or a muse, a goddess or a fate,” a list that runs the gamut of classical and religious possibilities for a work of art (229-230). “But to me,” she continues, “it is only a beautiful woman, bigger, lovelier, and more imposing than any woman I ever saw” (230). Becky, Bess, and Polly’s reactions make it clear that this has been a test for Polly; while Becky smiles and Bess nods, Polly claps her hands and congratulates Fanny: “Well done, Fan! I didn’t think you’d get the idea so well, but you have, and I’m proud of your insight” (230). Having passed the test of interpreting the art object, Fanny has proven that she can be included fully in the group. Polly explains further, “Now I’ll tell you, for Becky will let me, since you have paid her the compliment of understanding her work. Some time ago we got into a famous talk about what women should be, and Becky said she’d show us her idea of the coming woman” (230). The statue thus proves doubly useful in the instruction of a particularly feminist conception of morality: not only is it utilized as a test to judge a viewer’s existing sympathy to feminist ideology, it then also serves as a further point of instruction for those who pass its initial test. By illustrating the “coming woman,” the sculpture presents the women with a clear model to which to aspire, or to train their daughters to aspire. The woman depicted in the statue, as Polly describes her, combines aspects of women that have previously been seen as mutually exclusive or impossible. She is both “bigger, lovelier, and more imposing than any we see nowadays” but “at the same time, she is a true woman” (230). The “true woman,” associated with the Victorian cult of domesticity, “might be chiefly characterized by her separation from the public sphere in selfless devotion to home and family” (Eiselein and Phillips 229). However, the “true woman” also made it possible for the emergence of the politically active “new woman”: “Indeed, female involvement in the world outside the home received some of its sanction from the moral superiority and virtue associated with True Womanhood” (Eiselein and Phillips 229). By combining an imposing physical presence with the inherent morality of the “true woman,” Alcott avoids any possible accusations of radical (immoral) feminism. The statue is truly a balance of true and new.4 In addition, “the mouth is both firm and tender, as if it could say strong, wise things, as well as teach children and kiss babies” (230).