| In 1920, the painting Banks
of the Gasconade was awarded the Second Logan Medal at the Chicago
Art Institute. While the work was on exhibit, a photographer contacted
my father to inquire if he could have permission to take a photo of the
painting. He was experimenting with a new five colortone process and the
painting would make an excellent subject. Permission was granted and Banks
of the Gasconade became one of the first color photographs. After sixty
years, a few remaining original prints show little aging.
Dad's paintings became very popular and the sales were good enough to support his family. Wanting to be independent and creative, he left the commercial art world to devote all his time to his art. We moved from the South Side of Chicago, and my grandparents, to a western, more influential part of town. The attic of the house was remodeled as a studio and during the years from 2910 to 1930 Carl produced his best works. Studio on Erie Street 1920-1928 Dad's financial worries were lessened as an angel or benefactor, Mr. Anton Nelson, took a great interest in dad and his paintings. For six years, Mr. Nelson's monthly checks for paintings gave dad the opportunity to devote his energies to the art world. Mr. Nelson retired from his musical instrument manufacturing plant and moved to California. It was through Mr. Nelson that I took violin lessons. He owned a violin that was beautifully inlaid with wood and he promised that he would give it to me if I became a violinist. However, the violin and the Nelsons moved before my five years of lessons. My father was an excellent teacher of oil pointing. He taught special classes at the Chicago Art Institute, Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, art leagues, as well as his private classes. In the early 1920s, he discovered that the area around Palos Park and Willow Springs, southwest of Chicago, was an ideal spot for classes because of the local scenic beauty. Our family spent many summers in the area renting and living in a converted barn as a cottage. (The area has since been destroyed by a superhighway interchange.) An old brochure advertising his classes states: Carl R. Krafft-Outdoor School of Painting, Wildwood, Willow Springs, Illinois
No greater source of inspiration for the painting art is at our command than in the direct study from nature. In both landscape and figure painting this is a vital factor in the artist's training.Page 11 - Banks of the Gasconade. Awarded the Logan Medal of $200, Art Institute of Chicago 1920, owned by Mr. L. L. Valentine. Page 12 - Autumn Symphony. 1924. Page 13 - Turkey Creek. 1924. Page 14 - The Open Gate. 1920. Page 15 - Tree Tapestry. 1924. Originally purchased by South Shore Country Club and auctioned off in a private sale, 1977. Page 16 - Early Snow. 1924. Page 17 - Wayside Inn. 1922. Page 18 - Her Paradise was on exhibition at the Chicago Art Institute. Page 19 - Hickory Creek. Awarded medal of Honor, Thirteenth Annual Exhibition, Allied Artists of America, New York, 1926. Page 20 - Mississippi River, Mr. & Mrs. M. A. Ryerson Collection, Awarded by the Chicago Art Institute. Exhibited at the Chicago World's Fair "Century of Progress," 1933. Page 21 - Down South. 1922. |
| The tuition in 1923 for the summer school session
was $20 for two weeks up to $100 for the entire fourteen-week session.
Dad's painting Tree Tapestry was inspired by a scene near the Willow Springs location. It was exhibited at the National Academy in New York. Mr. H. S. Hubbell, in a critique wrote: Tree Tapestry -- see what a dignified motif, a feeling for the pictorial, guided the artist's choice and his first vision of nature. Note how interestingly it is patterned in line and mass; how well maintained are the opposing lights and darks. Notice, also, how the integrity of these elementary forms of his pattern have been preserved and strengthened. A chance composition like this does not just happen in nature, waiting for the artist to come and copy it. It has the very feel of nature itself. Mr. Krafft has not allowed the 1001 accidents of outdoor nature to confuse and dim his vision.In the Gloaming was awarded a medal from the Illinois Artists Exhibition in 1920, and The Signal Tree was awarded a medal from the Chicago Society of Artists in 1921. A Central States Exposition Award in 1922 was given to my father for his canvasses in the early 1920s. Mississippi Nocturne, a figure composition of workmen and boats along the river, was awarded the First Logan Medal at the Chicago Art Institute in 1925. In the same exhibition, another painting, Summertime, was awarded the Frank Prize for Figure Composition. A snow composition, Hickory Creek, was awarded the Allied Artists of America Medal of Honor at the National Academy of Design in New York. The museum had not notified dad of this honor as they had heard he was planning a visit to New York City. It was a great surprise to see a blue ribbon on the painting as he entered the gallery. In the same year, Alex, another figure composition was awarded a prize at the Springfield, Massachusetts, art museum. One of dad's favorite stories was about Alex. Dad and I were driving along a street where a new YMCA building was being constructed. Dad stopped the car suddenly, studied a workman for several minutes, got out of the car and asked the man if he would be willing to pose for him. Alex Popalopadus, a Greek immigrant, spoke very little English. With the help of fellow workers and the promise of a few extra dollars, alex agreed to come to dad's studio on Sunday morning. At the first session, Alex came all dressed up in his sunday best and he was most disappointed to learn he was to pose in his everyday work clothes. When the painting was on exhibit at the Chicago Art Institute, my father was there for the opening day. Alex, his wife, and eight children proudly paraded in single file to see their father's portrait hanging on the walls of an art museum. Alex was later exhibited at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh, and was included in a traveling exhibition, arranged by the Carnegie Institute, that toured throughout museums in Canada. The YMCA had a profound significance in dad's life. Its physical activities and companionship with other men were of great value. Volleyball, handball, and tennis were his favorite sports. During the 1920s, he created a very large mural, The Triad of Life, built around the YMCA's triangular symbol of Spirit, Mind, and Body. The painting consisted of five life-size figures depicting the theme. It was the only canvas that he officially copyrighted. His love for tennis aided in making a small one-court club on a single vacant lot near our home. Later he assisted in the formation of the Oak Park Tennis Club. He then joined the more established River Forest Tennis Club. The American Magazine of Art published an article on Carl R. Krafft in September, 1926, issue. The author, Mr. V. E. Carr, wrote: Retaining a touch of lyric quality, tendency to beautify and treat poetically is more evidenced in his earlier painting. His works have moved forward from the abstractly conceived ideal to a warm realism. Krafft belongs to Chicago. It has been said that he is one of the few painters, who, have been educated and trained there, has remained there to work.The publicity given my father during this time and remarks made to me such as "How do you feel about having a famous father?", "I bet you're so proud of your dad!" adversely effected my personality. I felt embarrassed, almost ashamed. I was about twelve years old, and rather than feeling proud, I wanted to hide my head. I wished my father could be just a plain everyday father like everyone else's. Because of dad's love for music, my sister and I were introduced to it at an early age. Hazel had piano and voice lessons. For a few years she was a protégé of Grace Hall Hemingway, the mother of Ernest Hemingway. Mrs. Hemingway was also a pupil of my father. Hazel would have continued voice lessons, but her fiancé did not approve and ridiculed her signing. I studied the violin and many evenings at home were spent as a trio, Hazel at the piano, dad with a mandolin, and I with my violin. On Sunday afternoons, our family would go for a ride in our touring car. The route would be west from Chicago to the end of the paved roads. It was too risky to attempt the rutted dirt roads. The rainbow at the end was an ice cream stand. A touring car was an early type of open car, often with a folding fabric top. The side of the car over the doors were open to the elements. Isinglass curtains were handy to snap into place to keep out rain, bugs, and the cold. Heaters for cars were unknown. Blankets or autorobes were used to snuggle under during the winter months. Radios, in the early 1920s, consisted of small crystal sets. Earphones were the speakers. Among the few visible working parts was an attached needle, which was placed on a minute position on the crystal to tune in one of the few broadcasting stations. Monday night in Chicago was silent night for the Chicago stations so that a listener could try to tune in out-of-town stations. A few years later, tube radios became available. For power, storage batteries like those in present cars were used. "Amos and Andy" and "The Lone Ranger" were favorite programs. Stars of the theater did not consider radio as a suitable medium for first-class talent. Dad and I often spoke about the possibilities, and how wonderful ti would be to stay home and watch movies in the comfort of our living room. Christmas traditions included a visit from Santa. On Christmas Eve, my sister and I attended our church service. While we were away, the tree was decorated, and the presents were placed underneath. Small Christmas-tree candles, about the size of birthday-cake candles, were placed in special holders and clamped on the tree branches. The candles were lit by matches before we were allowed to enter. My sister and I had to stay in the dining room, which was closed off from the living room by French doors until Santa Claus had time to leave the house by the front door. We patiently awaited the sound of the door closing. After opening the gifts, we sang carols while anxiously keeping an eye on the burning candles. These years were dad's most productive. Mr. Carr wrote: Krafft's own development has been entirely subjective. He has caught the spirit of the land in which he lives and expresses it in his own idiom, using the natural symbols that the country presents. These symbols are interesting things--wonderfully weather-beaten fences, old houses that have a feeling of oneness with the country in which they stand. Concerning one of these houses, a tale must be told. While on a sketching trip to Galena, Illinois, Krafft came to a turn in the path and stopped to paint. A little hut was visible over some clumps of brush, and some of the inevitable spectators hurried forward to tell the old man of the hut that his house was being painted by a stranger. After a long time, the old fellow came out and walked creakingly all about the house and then remarked that he guessed the stranger couldn't have started yet.Because he didn't want to be classified as an oil painter of landscapes, he purposely painted a variety of sill lifes, marine painting, portraits, nudes and figure compositions. Although the winter and fall scenes were the most popular and saleable. Dad worked in other media such as watercolors, pastels, etchings and a few lithographs. About this time, the art league rented the Frank Lloyd Wright home in Oak Park as an exhibition gallery and meeting place. Dad rented Mr. Wright's former studio on the second floor. Later he moved to a studio near the business section of town where his many friends and patrons could drop in for a chat or to see his latest canvasses. In 1928, the painting of a nude title The Red Apple was accepted for an exhibition of contemporary American paintings at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. Dad's work was also represented in the twenty-fifth International Exhibition at the Corcoran, and a painting of me, Gladys, was included in the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial Exhibition. Mother was jealous of dad's female friends and models. She accused him of moving his studio away from home so she would not know who visited him. However, all his activities did not remain secret. Someone reported to mother that he ad been seen driving around town with a nude model in the car. This led to quite an argument between my parents, and mother threatened suicide. Dad admitted to me that he had had a female model in the car but, that she was not nude. During a posing session, he had had to run an errand and rather than staying alone in the studio, the model threw on a robe and accompanied him. Occasionally he had a professional nude model pose for an art class. To be devilish, he had young male students assist the model, after a rest break, to assume the exact position by rearranging the arm, should, draperies, or hand just to watch the blushes creeping up the students' faces. Dad's favorite model was Naomi, who was used for several paintings including The Red Apple. He was terribly upset when he read in the newspaper of her death. Evidently she committed suicide by asphyxiation in her car, and left a note stating she was grieving because she could not give her husband the baby they wanted so much. My father had a great many friends. He enjoyed reading for knowledge and relaxation. The Harvard Classics and Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire were among his favorites. Dad was tall, a little over six feet, and very thin until his late forties when he was less active. I always thought he was handsome, with or without a mustache. Artists were considered eccentric people and he obliged the public at times by wearing an artists' smock and a French beret as a joke. Dad was the parent to give out the punishments. I thought mother was my confidante, but father always mysteriously found out my secrets in time for physical or mental chastisement. However, I had been a pal to him. I was his caddy on the golf course, and chased tennis balls during a match. I was a companion at football, basketball, and baseball games. Mother would go with us to the movies. Mother and father probably wanted some privacy at home and allowed me to attend many movies with my friends or alone. Three movie houses were within walking distance and four others within a short drive. The family had an early dinner, usually about four-thirty, that made the evenings seem very long. The admission charge at the movie houses was ten cents before six o'clock P.M. and twenty-five cents after six o'clock P.M. My 1928 diary lists 110 movies that I saw in that year. Dad had confidence in me and allowed me to do some things at an earlier age than my sister. He revealed many of his problems to me. It was he who tried to explain to me the facts of life. He first gave me a book What a Young Girl Should Know. I thought the book very boring and tried to find good parts. His sex education information was very puritanical. My knowledge of a man's physique was gained by sculpture in art galleries and at the Chicago Art Institute figure painting classes. Dad loved for me to give him a back massage. One day I noticed a very unusual scar on his derriere. It was caused by the breaking of a chamber pot when he sat on it during his childhood. A chamber pot was a portable container with a lid, made of china or porcelain, decorated artistically, and kept in a bedroom, usually under a bed, and used at night when outside facilities were inconvenient. Father still had hopes of getting mother out of the house into the community, so in 1928 they borrowed money to open a small restaurant in Oak Park, The Round Table Sandwich Shop and Tea Room. It became a very popular place at noon for the business people in the area. Mother was always smiling and the customers commented on her cheery countenance and dimple which brightened up the atmosphere. My sister was one of the waitresses. I was still in high school. On most evenings, I was the cashier and did my homework while waiting to make change for the customers. The Stock Market Crash came in the autumn of 1929. |
