Andrew Wyeth died yesterday. Age 91.
Damn great artist.
I’m showing the piece to the right, Trodden Weed, because I always feel a sense of awe when I see it.
The gorgeous color.
The daring composition.
It raises more questions in the viewer, both about the painting and the viewer himself, than it answers yet there is a sense of satisfaction.
Of completion.
Andrew Wyeth was not the darling of art critics and I think there’s a simple reason for this:
His work didn’t need them.
His work transcended the need for their explanation and validation, translating at once to the viewer.
There was no warming up to his work, no need to try to feel his message. It was immediate and powerful.
And to someone who is considered the arbiter of taste, this could only be the work of sentimentalism. This bias would not allow themselves the effort to truly see the work’s beauty and power. It’s graceful simplicity.
Well, that’s their loss. Screw them and thank you for all you gave us, Mr Wyeth.
Redtree Times 
Great article! Andrew Wyeth was pure genius! Amen!
alicehahn
Thanks, Alice. I could’ve written more but his images say everything…
Thank you for posting these fabulous images – because Wyeth’s death is very sad. He indeed was a genius.
Trodden Weed is almost frightening in its power – the dog on the bed makes me want to smile in its beautiful simplicity, yet the use of light and shade make it a powerful piece too.
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Thanks, Lesley. You’re right in speaking of the power of the pieces- they really resonate.
I can see why he might be accused of sentimentality but there’s no denying Trodden Weed is a really affecting picture. I’d never heard of the guy before, to my shame, so thanks for the post.
[…] written several times here about my admiration for the work of family patriarch NC Wyeth and son, Andrew Wyeth. Their work is woven into the cloth of American art and this should be a great exhibit […]
Christina’s World is the powerful visualization of the struggle of a human person against “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.
It’s an unforgettable masterpiece endowed with an inner spark of sacred flame that enlightens the entire scene.
Sleep well, Master: “Te Salutamus”.
Well said.