Three Things: The Solitude (of Hopper) Edition
One of my favorite themes, in any creative form, is solitude. As a fairly solitary person by nature, this makes some logical sense, but it is a universally accessible theme, I think: everyone can relate to a moment of staring out a window, lost in thought. Some of my favorite pieces speak in some way to solitude and inner dialogue, and the quiet honesty and gorgeous melancholy that comes with it.
It will not surprise you then, I suppose, to learn that Edward Hopper is one of my favorite painters. His subjects are almost always solitary (whether there is someone next to them or not), preoccupied by thoughts completely removed from their present surroundings: they’re there but not there, not really. Which produces the burning question that makes it all so intriguing: where, then, are they?
I have three Hoppers for you today; three characters lost in thought. But before you go, I also have this quote that I stumbled across in a place I’ve since forgotten, attributed to Hopper: “If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint.” Paint worked quite beautifully for him. But, dear writers, I do believe you should take that as a challenge.
Edward Hopper, New York Movie, 1939. Oil on canvas. The Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Edward Hopper, Hotel by a Railroad, 1952. Oil on canvas. Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC.
Edward Hopper, Automat, 1927. Oil on canvas. Des Moines Art Center, Iowa.
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Edward Hopper has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember. His artwork lends itself as the perfect muse for a writer. Thanks for the post–the ideas are already forming!
I completely agree! I feel like there’s always something to wonder about in his pieces, which makes them perfect for inspiration. Glad you love him as much as I do!
Solitude is such an important thing for artists. I was about to comment about a million times yesterday because I’m so adamant about solitude being important, but I wanted to make sure what I had to say stayed relavant to this post.
One of the things that strikes me about these paintings is that they’re all public-ish places. None of these places belong to the people in them, which amps up the loneliness factor. The people here are alone in their minds even if they aren’t alone physically.
I believe it’s important for artists to strike a balance between the time they spend in solitude producing art, and the time they spend in communion with other artists, learning, challenging and living. There are, of course, exceptions to this (Emily Dickinson being the notable example), but on the whole it’s necessary to be stimulated, which means exiting that solitude.
Interesting, your observation that all three pieces are in public places. I hadn’t noticed that — it wasn’t a conscious decision when I chose them, but it certainly does emphasize the fact that they’re lost in their own thoughts, separated from their surroundings. Hopper does have many pieces set in public spaces, but he also has an equal number set in private spaces, usually bedrooms, often featuring a (scantily-clad, if clad at all) woman near or in front of a window.
I think the reason I didn’t choose any of those for this particular post (even those I love those as well), was because to me those seemed more strikingly “lonely” on the surface, as opposed to solitary. (I say “on the surface” because I could argue that these bedroom ladies are not necessarily, in fact, lonely, but I digress.) In my head, loneliness is one facet of solitude (usually the more depressing side of solitude), but solitude is so much more than being lonely — just as you suggest with your belief that solitude is so important for artistic expression. I’m in whole-hearted agreement: solitude is a necessity, as is finding a balance with it and the rest of life’s important interactions.