Little else in our world is as incomprehensible as our oceans, that vast body of water that surrounds us on all sides. It seems to fluctuate in moods and tempers, resting in a welcoming calm or roaring in dangerous anger whenever the gales suddenly turn. It’s as enigmatic as the human mind, and, if we look hard enough beneath the waves, we may find a deeper understanding of ourselves and our society far below the dark-blue waters.
American painter Winslow Homer felt the call of the waters and dedicated his life to capturing the seas. Having grown up on the New England coast in the 1800s, he found himself in awe of the waters that characterized his hometown. After spending the early part of his illustrator career documenting the Civil War, the spirit of battle never quite left him. Instead, it turned his attention toward a different type of war: the unending arms race between man and nature. He was fascinated by the many ways that humans are inextricably tied to the sea, whether for livelihood or leisure, and their many attempts to outwit the waters. However, despite their most valiant attempts, the sea remains unpredictable. Instead, Homer found himself fascinated by what the ocean can reveal about us.
Even when painting the calmest of waters, Homer never lets the sea stand still. Instead, he captures the playfulness and good humor of the waves as they gently lap at the ankles of beach-goers. In fact, these good-natured beachscapes, such as his 1872 painting “High Tide,” would go on to inspire director Greta Gerwig in designing the beach setting of “Little Women.”
Despite the lighthearted nature of “High Tide,” which is conveyed through the breezy color palette and the carefree women depicted in the painting, Homer can’t help but let a sense of darkness and mystery seep into his work. The dog on the left side of the frame steps back in fear of the dripping water, and two of the women’s faces remain obscured. Despite the seemingly tame subject matter, early critics of the piece found the women’s “state of undress” radical and offensive, showing that, even early in his career, a political undercurrent began to work its way into each of his pieces, begging the viewers to engage with the work beyond the surface.
Fittingly, Homer worked with and legitimized the watercolor medium, which was once deemed “less significant” than his oil paintings. He carried his pocket watercolor set and paper through tropical locations like the Bahamas, Cuba and Bermuda, dropping us en media res (in the middle) of the native people’s daily lives. These pieces begin to explore the necessity of man’s relationship with the sea and the increasingly social and political implications that sea commerce reveals. Watercolor pieces such as “The Turtle Pond,” “Shark Fishing” and “Sponge Fishermen, Bahamas” feature figures in the middle of their laborious jobs. These pieces are bright and vibrant, capturing the gorgeous flora while hinting at the imperial threats and forces that dictate the lives of the island’s inhabitants.
As the winds began to turn, so too did Homer. He slowly transitioned into portraying a darker and more dangerous temper of the waters. In “Breezing Up (A Fair Wind),” a group of boys sails carefree across the waters. There are three boats in the distance, appearing as a safety net in case anything were to happen. As the viewer’s eye moves down the canvas, the color palette begins to darken, and the foreboding energy of the waves starkly contrasts the jovial nature of Homer’s early paintings. The subtle implications of peril begin to foreshadow Homer’s eventual fixation on the dangers of the sea and the helplessness of man against the elements.
From here, Winslow Homer fully dives into the real threats that man is up against in the face of nature’s forces. In his iconic portrait “The Gulf Stream,” an isolated Black sailor rests on a tiny boat with a broken sail as chaos erupts around him. The sea is angry and spattered with red streaks of paint, eliciting the image of blood while the beginnings of a hurricane whirl in the background. In the foreground, a school of angry sharks roars their heads above water, threatening the man on the boat. Far off in the background is another ship, but its presence is not a comfort for the viewer. There’s a cruelness in the distance of this boat, in the fact that the man’s only hope is a hundred nautical miles away. Yet, in the middle of the treacherous waters, he appears calm, as if surrendering to the insurmountable forces that surround him. Looking closely at the contents of the boat, the man is transporting sugarcane across the Gulf Stream, revealing Homer’s underlying commentary on the injustices and politicalization of the waters and people’s ceaseless struggle against unseen powers.
Late in his career, Homer began to remove people from his works entirely, leaving the viewer to consider just the lonely sea. Living in his studio at Proust Neck, Maine, he returned to the waters outside his window. Here, he painted his foreboding “Northeaster” in 1895, which originally depicted two people crouched in the lower left corner, marveling at the thunderous waves. However, Homer reworked it in 1901, completely removing the people from the composition, allowing the gallery-goer to fill that place instead. A critic remarked on the power that the natural space holds “unmarked by the presence of puny man.” At this point in his career, he began to capture something deeper and more symbolic in the water as he, too, reflected on the loneliness and inevitability of his dwindling career. The moody, moonlit paintings become metaphors for his discontent yet eventual acceptance of his insignificance next to the vast ocean. By removing people from the equation, Homer removes man’s claim over of the sea, reminding us that the ocean belongs to no one.
Over his lifetime, Homer painted the sea countless times, capturing each of her many tempers while reflecting on man’s place next to the seemingly infinite waters. Ultimately, Winslow Homer found himself drawn to something deep within the sea, something distinctly human. He asks us to pause and consider the undercurrents of history and politics that simmer below the surface and to consider our place in the many faces of nature’s strength.
Daily Arts Writer Taylor Koski can be reached at tckoski@umich.edu.
