The Oak Park Art League is pleased to present this webspace in honor of its founder Carl R. Krafft
Carl R. Krafft:
An Artist's Life
Founder and first president of the Oak Park Art League, Carl R. Krafft’s biography is recounted here by his daughter Lal (Gladys Krafft) Davies.
A hardcopy of the book
Carl R. Krafft: An Artist's Life
is available to purchase here
CONTENTS
Preface
Early years
1900 - 1920
1920 - 1930
1930 - 1938
Reminiscences
Memorial Exhibition of Paintings by Carl R. Krafft
Bibliography
About the Author
Carl R. Krafft was a popular artist in the Midwest, particularly Chicago, during the 1920s. Many of his works are still pleasing people today. However, not much is known of Mr. Krafft as a man. It is this lapse that Lal (Gladys Krafft) Davies seeks to remedy in her book, Carl R. Krafft: An Artist's Life.
Renowned for his fine oils, etchings, litho-graphs, and watercolors, Carl R. Krafft was also a very interesting person. From his daughter, Lal, the reader receives frank insights into his character that help to clarify not only the man, but his work. There is much wisdom in these pages, but also a great deal of warmth and humor.
If you have ever wondered about the people who created those beautiful works of art that continue to inspire long after their creators have died, read Carl R. Krafft: An Artist's Life. There you will find a brief but fascinating glimpse into the life of one artist.
Preface
It was in October, 1938, when these words of Rudyard Kipling's poem "L'Envoi" were spoken by Reverend Frank D. Adams in the eulogy at my father's funeral.
When Earth's last picture is painted, and
the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colors have faded, and the
youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--
lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set
us to work anew!
And those that were good will be happy: They
shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with
brushes of comets' hair: . . .
And no one shall work for money,and no one
shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of the working, and each,
in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the
God of Things as They Are!
October was my father's favorite month for painting nature's color at its peak.
Carl Rudolph Krafft bowed out of this Earth when the countryside was resplendent. The view from the hill of his graveside overlooked the Des Plaines River valley, a scenic area portrayed so vividly in some of Dad's paintings. The trees in the distance were painted with various shades and hues of autumnal color.
I stood by the grave. Suddenly, Kipling's poem and the words entered my thoughts. I knew Dad's last picture wa painted. His tubes of paints were twisted and dried. Perhaps now he would be working on a ten-league canvas while sitting on a golden chair. No longer would he have to work for money or fame, and he could continue to draw things as he sees them.
"L'Envoi" by Rudyard Kipling from Rudyard Kipling's Verse: Definitive Edition. Reprinted by permission of the National Trust and Doubleday & Company, Inc.
Early Years
Carl R. Krafft was born in Reading, Ohio, on August 23, 1884. At the time, his father was serving as a preacher for the Johannes Evangelical Lutheran Church. The Reverend Carl F. L. Krafft had been born in 1847 in Regensburg, Bavaria, the son of Pastor Carl Krafft. They were descendants of Adam Krafft, the sculptor of the sixteenth century whose works can still be found about the old town of Nuremberg.
At the age of nineteen, Carl immigrated to America to attend a seminary in Marthasville, Missouri. He was ordained as a minister in 1872 in St. Charles, Missouri. He married Wilhemina Meier of New Melle, whose father Henry Meier, was a pioneer who had come to that territory in 1860.
Rev Krafft served as a traveling pastor, or circuit rider, throughout Missouri and Kansas until he accepted a position in Ohio in 1884. Five years later, after leaving a parsonage in Indiana, the family moved to the South Side of Chicago. The Salem Evangelical Church welcomed the large family which now consisted of seven children -- Emanuel, Frederick, Amanda, Pauline, Carl, Adolf, and Emil. The church had been founded in 1860 by a group of German settlers. After much dissension, the congregation called Rev. Krafft to the pulpit. For twenty-three years, the congregation enjoyed a period of peace and prosperity.
My father, Carl, had many fond recollections of living in the parsonage next door to the church. At one time he raised pigeons in a coop in the backyard, much to the consternation of the parishioners who never knew if they could reach the safety of the church unscathed. A Sunday morning chore shared by the younger boys was the pumping of the church organ by hand in a small room behind the pipes of the organ. Electricity was not in use at the time. Occasionally the pumper fell asleep during the sermon and had to be awakened to pump again for the closing hymn.
Regular playing cards were not permitted. The boys made up their own version of cards using pictures of flowers, animals, and buildings. They convinced their mother that it was a different game. Another chore was the tending of the furnace in the parsonage. Carl would do anything to be relieved of this duty. he was afraid of the rats in the basement. Everyone in the household knew when it was Carl's turn to shovel the coal in the furnace. He whistled all the way down the stairs and banged the coal shovel to scare the rats before he got there.
The boys enjoyed sneaking out of the house by sliding down the rain spout from their second-floor bedroom. Carl's first ambition was to be an acrobat. He and his four brothers fitted up the backyard as a circus ground and they entertained the children of the neighborhood. It was not unusual for the boys to walk to school on their hands. The wooden sidewalks made hand-walking easier.
A pastor's income was very low and, with nine people to feed, the offerings of home-grown products was appreciated. The whole family looked forward to weddings, christenings, and even funerals to help with the finances. During Carl's school days, his teachers reprimanded him for drawing in all of his textbooks. However, they did recognize his talent for drawing and encouraged him by having him do the artwork in the school. He took piano and organ lessons and later became the church organist. His love for music continued throughout his life.
My father gave up the idea of becoming a circus performer in his early teens. He entered business college and his first job was in the office of a paint factory. A job in a stationery store followed. This office position consisted of pushing a cart through the Loop delivering orders. (The center of the business section of Chicago is known as the Loop, because the tracks of the elevated or "L" make a loop around certain streets.)
Carl then worked for a wholesale dry goods store, the owner of which also had the idea that a business-college graduate should push a cart. This time, however, it was an "inside job," hauling goods from the stockroom to an elevator.
He next answered an ad for a "bright young man with fine penmanship" to work in a pet store. Carl got the job, but soon discovered that the work consisted of 90 percent cleaning bird, rabbit, and ferret cages and 10 percent displaying penmanship. One day he refused to clean the monkey cage in the front window of the store and was fired. Carl decided the business world was not for him.
1900 - 1920
Being sons and grandsons of ministers, the five brothers were inclined to follow the tradition. Fred and Emil were ordained as ministers. Fred moved to St. Louis and Emil to Cleveland. Emanuel, Adolf and Carl questioned the teachings, but were willing to try the ministry as a profession. Carl entered Elmhurst College which was at that time an Evangelical Lutheran seminary.
"While he didn't become a practicing preacher his paintings are not in variance with his training. Most of the critics have felt has attitude toward nature to be 'religious,' the quiet, sentimental reverence of a working preacher in average american surroundings," wrote C.J. Bulliet in the Chicago Daily News.
My father discovered that the ministry, with the many debatable aspects of religious doctrine, was not for him. His skill at playing the organ made him hesitate between music and art as a career. He chose art and entered the commercial art field. Later, Rudolph Ingerle and he opened their own commercial art studio. He received his first formal art training in night classes at the Chicago Art Institute. Dad was strongly influenced by teachers and fellow students; among them were Eugene Savage, Martin Hennings, and Leon Kroll.
In 1907, my father and mother, Charlotte (Lottie) Lau were married. Lottie's parents objected to the marriage as Carl's job as an artist was not considered a worthwhile occupation. Lottie's father worked for a large packing house at the stockyards.
Lottie's and Carl's honeymoon was a trip to Yellowstone Park by train. Dad's income was not large enough to afford such a long trip so Mother depleted her savings account. The journey from the train station to Old Faithful Inn and throughout the park was by horse and buggy. Automobiles were not allowed until eight years later in 1915. Carl was very impressed with the immense three-story stone fireplace in the lobby of Old Faithful Inn and the rustic interiors of the building. The rooms did not have private bathrooms. On their first night at the inn, Lottie visited the ladies' room on the second floor while Carl waited downstairs in the lobby. After an hour, he became worried at her absence and sent someone into the ladies' room. Lottie had locked the door on the stall and was not able to unlock it. Carl teased her for years over this, saying it was an excuse not to spend their first night together. Sixty years later, I stayed at Old Faithful Inn. Sitting around the stone fireplace in the evenings reminded me of mom's and dad's honeymoon. I believe the same stubborn locks are still there.
Throughout the marriage, Lottie's parents influenced their lives. Mother was never able to untie the apron strings completely. The mother Lottie knew was actually a stepmother. Her real mother had died during childbirth when Lottie was about a year old. The baby was reared by grandparents in Wisconsin and Lottie never knew she had a sister until later in life.
The stepmother was very domineering. She had been born in Germany and came to the United States when she was about eighteen.
The first cottage Lottie and Carl lived in was two houses away from Lottie's parents. The next move was to a three-flat building where her parents lived on the floor above.
Carl's activities were closely watched. If he was late coming home from work by streetcar, it was reported. If he stopped in a nearby saloon for a beer, it was reported. A talk with a neighbor did not go unobserved.
Lottie was very shy and self-conscious. Her lack of education, which only went up to the eighth grade, seemed to give her an inferiority complex. she had a beautiful and ready smile, with a large dimple in the middle of her right cheek. She claimed that she had fallen downstairs while holding a knife and the blade had penetrated her cheek. I never did know if this was true or a story to cover her shyness and embarrassment on hearing a compliment.
Two daughters were born while Lottie and Carl lived in the flat; Hazel, in 1910, and I, Gladys, in 1914. For the next few years, dad enjoyed his successful work in the commercial art field doing ads from soup to auto for newspapers and magazines.
In 1912, while visiting relatives in Missouri, dad was told of the beautiful mountains close by. He hired a horse and buggy and follow the dirt roads into the Ozark Mountains. He became fascinated by the colors in the scenery, the changing of them by the mists, clouds, sun, or time of day. He returned to the Ozarks every fall for years, sometimes alone, sometimes with his family. He stayed for a month or more to record nature's transition from fall to the first snows of winter.
He painted many canvasses in the Ozarks and many other artists were influenced by them. He organized the Society of Ozark Painters. An art critic wrote, "The American novelist, Harold Bell Wright, wrote of life in the Ozarks in his books Shepherd of the Hills and The Winning of Barbara Worth. What Mr. Wright did in words in his novels of life in the Ozark Mountains, Carl Krafft did with his visual portrayal of life and scenery through his paintings."
Dad joined the Palette and Chisel Club in Chicago and found new ideals and companionship that furthered his artistic talents. His first exhibition was held at the Palette and Chisel Club in 1914. He then entered a canvas in the Chicago Artists Exhibition at the Chicago Art Institute and it was accepted. It was always a thrill to know that a painting judged by your peers was considered good enough to hand on the walls of a museum.
My father was represented at the Chicago Art Institute almost every year from 1914 until the late 1920's. In 1915 he won the Englewood Prize for Ozark Zephyrs, in 1916 the Municipal Art League Prize for Charms of the Ozarks. Also during 1915, he exhibited at the Panama Fair in the Illinois State Building, and later at the All American Exhibition held at the Coliseum.
"Starting his career as a commercial designer, Krafft pressed steadily upward to an honored place in his field, which he held for a number of years until he could give all his time to painting. No art-school training was given him when he started as a designer of labels, but it was not long before he began to show himself the most rapid and efficient among his fellows," wrote V. E. Carr in the American Magazine of Art.
1930-1938
The Great Depression gradually crept into the local economy. the American people wee frightened. President Hoover told them that there was no reason for fear. People stopped buying. Men lost their jobs. Customers of The Round Table could no longer afford to eat out. They either ate at home or went church-hopping. The local churches, of which there were many in town, held suppers as money-raising projects. With volunteers and little overhead, they were able to furnish a meal to the public at a very small cost. Almost every night of the week, one or two of the churches held a supper. The struggle to keep the restaurant open continued for a year. After a total of five years, The Round Table was sold to the chef at a loss.
Thanks to the Depression, too, art patrons could no longer indulge in buying works of art. My dad requested I stay out of school for a semester and be his helper around the studio, which was again at the rear of our home.
Banks began to fail in large numbers as the frightened customers withdrew their deposits. On the day of Roosevelt's inauguration, a bank holiday was declared and all the banks in the country were closed. After they were examined by Treasury officials and found to be in good financial condition, they were allowed to open. Many banks remained closed.
We almost lost our home. The government agency HOLC (Home Owners Loan Corporation) can to our rescue. When Dad bought the house, the previous owner held the mortgage. It was common at the time to pay only the interest on the mortgage once or twice a year. Amortizing a mortgage was unknown to us. HOLC made it mandatory. Our mortgage holder was paid out and monthly payments to HOLC had to be met.
Another government project, PWAP, was a lifesaver. Public Works Art Project artists were given a small sum of money each month in exchange for works of art. Sometimes they were sketches for original murals in public places, or paintings depicting times or places in our country. One of my responsibilities was to take the canvases by "L" to the PWAP office in the Loop. The paintings by artists throughout the country were to be placed in buildings in every state. (At this time an investigation is going on in Washington to find out where all these paintings are now located.)
During the Depression, we charged everything at local stores, When a painting was sold, the money disappeared rapidly to pay current bills. This helped our credit remain good so that we could charge again. If a bill became too large, some merchants would take a painting in trade. There were times when the amount of money received from a buyer did not cover the expense of the canvas, stretcher, and frame.
Money was not available for recreation or nonessential expenses. Shipping charges for crating and sending paintings out of the city for exhibition were astronomical.
On Saturday and Sunday mornings, dad taught art classes in the studio. This was the only income we could depend on. It was not much, but five to ten dollars a week did help. My time in the studio was spent in various ways. It was my job to stretch canvases, clean palettes and brushes, aid Dad in making and printing etchings, deliver and hang paintings for exhibition, and on occasions give talks to various clubs on Art.
Dad trusted me to clean brushes, but when it came to talks on art, he wrote the speeches. I expressed his opinions, thoughts, and beliefs in my lectures.
A typical speech would include:
What to Look for in a Painting
"I know nothing about Art, but I know what I like."
"I can tell an oil painting from a print, because a print has a glass on it and an oil painting does not." These and similar statements are often made to me. I have no intentions to give a history of Art. Many books are available on that subject. But for the average layperson, who has had no art education, there may be a few hints to help in analyzing and choosing a painting.
"Why not a photograph of a scene instead of a painting?" A photographer uses a camera to capture a view in a split second. A painting of the scene requires skill, thought, techniques, design, patterns of lines and shapes, balance, color tones, and perspective.
A work of art is the product of the artist's intelligence and imagination. The addition of trees, figures, buildings and elimination of unnecessary objects improves the composition.
Due to music lesson at home or at school the public is more familiar with musical compositions than canvas compositions. They are more acquainted with words such as staff, notes, measures, forte, pianissimo and rhythm. All are necessary to create a musical work. In a painting the canvas size, the lines, shapes, light and dark areas, color and contrasts are used to build a composition. Turn a painting upside down and study it. Subject matter is then of no importance.
As you view a painting, look at the style and method of applying the paint. Is it done by brush, palette knife, or other method? How are the brush marks used? Are they large, wide and bold? Are the strokes visual or minute and detailed? Is the paint applied thickly or thinly? Does the paint seem to be mixed before applying to the canvas or afterwards? There are so many ways of getting effects by the use of paint and color.
An artist's technique is like a person's handwriting; it can be recognized at a glance.
A composition is the arrangement of essential elements to acquire a pleasing effect. The term line refers to the boundaries of shapes or masses. The picture should be
The composition is roughly sketched in as to the placement of objects. The darks are blocked in with a deep shade of color. A lighter wash is then applied to the halftones gradually until the brightest highlights are added. The entire canvas is completely covered with a color value. The paint is allowed to dry for a day or so before continuing. At each session, some details are added. The gradual changing of colors in the sky, the shape of objects to give illusion of depth, the changing of color values to give perspective, and the addition of the important details may take a month or so to complete. A painting should be viewed with fresh eyes. Thus the artist may et the canvas aside for a few days before continuing. Each one can be considered a brainchild of the artist and until the child leaves home, it can be corrected.
In purchasing a painting, beware of oilettes or reproductions that are painted on a rough surface to resemble canvas. Often a few brushmarks of oil paint are added so that the buyer believes it is an original. These are mass-produced on an assembly line and are sold for the profit in the frames. I have seen the appearance of a room spoiled by a cheap $1.98 print over an expensive sofa. Some so-called painters do the same scene but in different colors; all in shades of blue, browns, purple, green or reds to satisfy some tastes and interiors. These are not considered originals and are not good investments. An original, the only one of its kind, can be an oil painting, etching, woodblock, pencil or ink drawing, lithograph, water color, pastel or other media signed by the artist.
An etching is a process of engraving lines on a metal plate by means of an acid. A copper or zinc plate is covered with an etching ground. This ground protects the metal from the action of the acid except where the etcher scrapes away the ground. A design is drawn on the ground with a tool resembling a needle. The needle marks uncover the ground on the plate. Then the plat is submerged in a nitric-acid bath for a few seconds for the very fine lines, which are then covered with the acid-resistant compound. The plate is submerged again for a little thicker line, which is then covered up or stopped out. This process is continued until the very deepest or darkest lines are etched into the plate. The depth of the grooves varies according to the kind of line the artist or etcher wants to print. The plate is finished and prints can now be made. A special ink is applied to the plate which is then wiped with a cloth leaving the ink in the grooves and in some areas of the plate for contrasting effects. The plate is then placed on a damp paper and put into a press which produces one print. Each print will be slightly different due to the wiping, inking, paper or pressure applied by the press. Numbers such as 5/25 under a print mean it is a limited edition and is the fifth of twenty-five prints.
A woodblock or woodcut print is a design cut into hardwood but opposite that of an etching. The areas cut away hold no ink. The relief or raised portion is printed on paper. If more than one color is used, each color has its own block and when a print is made, each color is printed on top of a previously colored print.
To develop appreciation, you should look carefully at many good paintings. Practice stopping for a time in front of each one. Study the composition, technique and detail.
Too often society waits until an artist is dead before he becomes famous. Occasionally a relative may be an art dealer. Vincent Van Gogh's brother was a dealer who influenced the sale and popularity of Van Gogh's works after his death. An artist does not have a public relations man or agent to promote his works. Only by exhibitions and recognition of his canvases by jury shows at museums and galleries, and by publicity by the art critics, can a painter become known. The artist's name is most important if purchasing a work of art as an investment.
Visit a museum, a reliable art dealer, or an artists' studio. We must give the serious artist encouragement and a chance to earn a good living while he is alive."
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My father was a very generous man to friends in need. In fact, mother complained that he would give the shirt off his back if she didn't stop him. He donated many paintings to organizations for money-making projects. When the Grand Central Art Gallery in New York was formed, dad was one of the original contributing members.
The Chicago Art Institute assembled an exhibit for the Century of Progress World's Fair in 1933. The museum contacted my father wanting information on a painting they owned in the Martin A. Ryerson Collection. Dad had no record of Mr. Ryerson, who was from Chicago, purchasing a painting. He sent me to the art institute for a description of it. The experience of going through vaults with hundreds of paintings stored there due to lack of space in the galleries, was an overwhelming and unforgettable event. The painting, Mississippi River, was located. It had been donated to the Grant Central Art Gallery in New York, where Mr. Ryerson purchased it and brought it back to Chicago. Eventually his collection was donated to the art institute.
The Chicago Galleries was organized in 1925 and established by the Municipal Art League for the local arts to have a gallery as an outlet. My father donated several works for their opening and other fund-raising exhibits.
After graduating from high school in 1932, I continued to work for dad. Although I thought it would be best to have an income for the family from a source outside of the studio, his wishes superseded mine. Also, jobs were difficult to find.
He had several spells of illness which were not fully explained to me, but which I considered nervous breakdowns. We had no family medical doctor as there had been no need of one. The old-fashion home remedies sufficed. Our dentist, Dr. William Culp Brown, dispenses sugar-coated pills in different colors for different ailments. He admitted that most of his patients had psychosomatic problems and that his pills did as much good as a medical doctor's prescription.
Everyday I went out with several paintings in the car and followed up leads to try to sell them. If a potential customer was a bit interested, I would hang one or two canvases on approval. The leads were friends of friends, who had shown some interest in art. Occasionally I came home, elated, with a check for the entire price of the painting. The majority of the time the artwork was paid for in installments of five, ten, or fifteen dollars, or whatever could be afforded. The prices of paintings were dropping at all the galleries. One-hundred-dollar specials were advertised for canvasses which had been selling for much more.
My joy at selling a painting was quickly deflated when dad insisted I try someone else the next day. I was shy, naive, and nervous when talking to strangers, and definitely not a high-pressure salesperson. patrons reported to my father that they appreciated my honesty. However, I hated the job. I received room and board which was sufficient during those years.
Dad stayed at home more and finally refused to leave the house and studio. He suffered from intense fear of leaving the house, today called agoraphobia. One day he asked me to drive him around the block. When I had gone two blocks, he became hysterical, grabbed the wheel and forced me to turn the car around. He never again asked me for a ride.
When company came to the house, he was a different person. He enjoyed talking with potential buyers and showing his latest work. He was a good conversationalist. When my friends were over, he participated in our activities. He loved to play chess. I complained when most of the evenings wee spent watching my date and him playing chess. It was an inexpensive way to spend an evening and win the approval of a future father-in-law.
During the 1920s, dad had a bit of financial success. Now, art patrons and collectors were few and not able to buy as before. A new style of art, the modern, came forward.
Mr. Bulliet, critic for the Chicago Daily News, wrote of an exhibit:
Moderns made a clean sweep of prizes. It is practically modern throughout as modernism is understood and painted in Chicago and over all America. The modernism is a weak imitation of the French, who invented it and use it with so much better effect than any of their world copyists.
The general complexion of the Chicago shows changed sharply after 1929. A younger modern crowd literally swarmed into the place, crowding out the conservatives.
My father took up the challenge of the moderns taking over, and painted two canvases very different in subject matter from his well-known landscapes. They were submitted and accepted by the jury at the Chicago Art Institute in 1933. The subject ofMay Daywas a scene from our backyard; a neighbor's cherry tree in bloom, figures in the foreground hanging wash on a clothes line. Businessmen's Avocationwas a satire on men's outdoor painting classes. It has to be studied closely to observe the subtle, humorous aspects of the subject matter.
"Intensity, tonal values and their relations to masses and movement of line and composition are the prime factors in his art. Technically his methods are less direct than those of the moderns, but his planes are built up with greater deliberation and finer texture," wrote Mr. Bulliet of dad's paintings.
Many canvases of this period have a thumbprint over his name. He did forget to put it on all of them. The reason was that in case of forgery the thumbprint would prove the authenticity. Someone had told my father they had witnessed a person copying one of his canvasses that was on display in the window of an art gallery.
We survived the lean years. Will Davies and I were married by Rev. Adams, and kept it secret for over a year. Six years previously, I had begun to date Will at dad's suggestion that he seemed to be a very nice young man. I did not want my parents to have the expense of a wedding. I knew of the money involved when my sister had a small wedding a few years earlier. A petty quarrel between dad and my sister and husband developed and for five years they did not communicate. Mother and I had to sneak out of the house to visit by sister.
I continued to work for dad. I took care of the checking account and made sure a few dollars were hidden in the balance to keep down the number of insufficient fund checks. Prohibition was in force. However, local drug stores kept whiskey on hand for medicinal purposes. If dad knew five dollars was left in the checking account, it went for medicinal purposes.
My husband completed college and he accepted a position in Minnesota. In June 1938, my baby daughter and I joined him.
Dad's health faded rapidly. When I was pregnant, we joked about our shapes as to which one of us was expecting. He did not see a doctor until much later. In October, four months after I moved away from home, dad died. Was he despondent at my leaving? Did he depend too much on me? These questions haunted me.
Rev. Adams eulogized, "Death came at fifty-four, very early as we now count time. But, who would dare to say that his is an unfinished life? he has left us a legacy and tradition of beauty which will grow more precious with the years. So, Carl has stepped out into another landscape. It is not given to me to describe the place in the other world to which he has gone, but I know it is a place of beauty as befits the soul of one who paid homage at the Shrine of Beauty."
A year later, my small family moved eat to Connecticut. During our Sunday drives through the colorful, picturesque countryside of New England, I would think of dad and his desires to locate in that vicinity. I viewed the scenery as if I were looking through his eyes at the beauties of nature.
My dear mother, whose only fault was her inability, through lack of education, to create an environment to further dad's career, was a very sweet considerate mother. After dad's death, she sold her home at a loss, and moved back to the old neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago to live with grandmother.
Reminiscences
When I was a child learning to talk, I could not pronounce my name, Gladys. Instead, I said, "Lally." The family and friends shortened it and my nickname became Lal. Lolly-Pop was also used: was this because I was so sweet?
The suggestion was made to me that I write a biography of my father, Carl R. Krafft. The only experience I had was writing letters to my children and friends. The research was done at libraries and museums. I did not realize that there were so many books that contained so little information on him. The place and year of his birth, he was a landscape artist, the places he exhibited, and the awards he received are noted. These books noted just the cold facts and nothing about the man, his ambitions and personal life.
As dad passed away over forty years ago, most of the reference books are no longer available or are hidden in archives. A few newspaper clippins and magazine articles I personally saved over the years, and my teen-age diary, photographs of some of his paintings and his card file of canvasses aided me in writing this book.
Many of his paintings have been resold by original owners, passed on to the next generation, given to museums, destroyed by fire, or hidden away and forgotten.
A few years ago, a newspaper clipping was sent to me about the discovery of a painting in the janitor's room of a school. The Krafft snow scene was donated to the school by the Mother's Club in 1922. Thee was no idea how long the picture was in the basement.
A large portrait of me, which was exhibited at the Sesquicentennial Exposition in Philadelphia, was hanging in a home on approval. The family moved from the town and I was unable to get a forwarding address.
An interior decorator had a few canvasses in his store on consignment. He went bankrupt and everything was confiscated. It would take money to hire a lawyer to recover them, so dad forgot them.
A large snow scene was purchased by our church, Unity Temple, Frank Lloy Wright's famous historical church in Oak Park. It was hanging over the fireplace and somehow caught fire. The congregation had purchased it a short time before Dad's death to financially assist him.
At my mother's request, after she died in 1955, my sister and I officially donated to our village three of my father's paintings which had been on loan and hung on the walls of the building for a few years. One day my late sister noticed that the large one was not in its usual place and inquired bout it. Someone told her that it was dirty and that the town did not have fifty dollars to have it cleaned. My sister was so shocked that the painting was in a storeroom and that the town could not afford the price of cleaning that she asked for and was given the painting. I do not know if the village board officials ever missed it.
In the 1920s a few school systems in Indiana started a great art collection. The student saved their nickels and pennies and gave to a fund at school. Once a year artists in the Chicago area were invited to submit a painting for a certain purchase price. These works were exhibited at school for a period of time and then the students voted on which they preferred the school board to purchase. The collection alternated among the schools. It should be a very valuable collection now after fifty years.
I have enjoyed searching for Krafft paintings in hopes of bringing the card file up to date. It is almost like looking for adopted children. Two years ago, when I was in Los Angeles, I tried to locate a painting that was in the Harrison Collection. The records I have differ. One place noted Los Angeles Art Museum and the other, the Los Angeles County Museum. The county museum located the painting in the private office of a county judge. Rather than have collections in a storeroom, the paintings are hung in public buildings for all to enjoy. I was not able to view the canvas as the judges' chambers were not open when I was able to visit the building.
My ability to recognize my father's work surprises me. A dealer had an unframed canvas on the floor of the showroom. I knew immediately it was a Krafft, however something was not quite right. The dealer had restored it and transferred it onto new canvas, which gave it an unusual texture.
Somewhere in California there is a group of pictures I would like to locate. Mr. A. Nelson, dad's "angel" for a few years, had a collection of his works, including three or four very large ones. Mr. Nelson died about forty years ago and his nephew was his only living heir. I am inquisitive as to their location.
Mr. L.(Louis) L. Valentine of Chicago purchased the Logal Medal Painting Banks of the Gasconade in 1920. His collection was presented to the boys' club. In a letter to my mother in 1939 he wrote, "We have just finished a large boys' club building as a memorial for Mrs. Valentine. it is my intention to hand the Banks of the Gasconade in the library of the club."
Occasionally dad had nice surprises. One was the reproduction of a painting Christmas Party on the cover page of the Rotogravure section of the Chicago Tribune. During an exhibition at the Chicago Galleries, the Tribune phoned him for permission to print it. Every Sunday we awaited the paper. After seven or eight months, when we had given up, it was printed in the Christmas edition, Dec. 21, 1930.
Today, the art world has changed as has music and other forms of art. The fads come and go, but true art survives. Even the Chicago Art Institute has changed since the days I roamed through the galleries. The grand central staircase, with the worn footsteps in the marble leading from the main entrance to the second-floor galleries, is gone. The huge statue with a big black toe, due to people touching and rubbing it, is not visible. The two-story tall gallery containing Egyptian artifacts has under-gone modernization. To me, personally, it has lost its charm of bygone days.
Through the decades, Dad's technique and color underwent changes, too. In his early career, he paid more attention to detail in his landscapes. Deep purples, blues, and the other darker ones gave the paintings a mystical quality. Gradually they became lighter in color, more fre in feeling. Brush strokes were wider and bolder. However, the composition and style of portraying his ideas on canvas make it possible to identify his work.
Hopefully this book will give future generations an insight into the life and times of an artist whose works will adorn the walls of homes, schools, museums, and public buildings for many years.
Reprinted from exhibition catalogue, Chicago Art Institute, Summer Exhibitions, July to October, 1939
Memorial Exhibition of Paintings by Carl R. Krafft
American, 1884-1938
Mr. Krafft was born in Reading, Ohio. He started with little training as a commercial designer, and attained considerable success in this field. Through his work, he acquired a knowledge of composition and design which was invaluable to him later when he became seriously interested in paintings. After he was married he began to study at the art institute, determined to make up for the lack of opportunities of earlier years. although his first attempts at painting did not meet with great success, he applied himself diligently to his task, and soon gained the recognition he sought. Many times an exhibitor in the art institute as well as in other parts of the country, he was also the receipient of numberous prizes and awards. although he became a member of the Palette and Chisel Club, as was the founder and first president of the Art League of Oak Park, his fame rests more particularly on his position as the founder of the Society of Ozark Painters. In these beautiful and unspoiled mountains of Missouri, Krafft spent active summers painting peaceful landscapes full of languid charm and romantic atmosphere. He is seen in another characteristic mood in his paintings of winter where dark trees and figures make a bold contrast against the white snow. Mississippi River owned by the art institute is one of the best examples of this phase of his work. Not preeminently a portrait painter, he has shown great insight in his fine characterization of Alex. Generally speaking, however, he did not deal with figure compositions but found his most congenial surroundings in the Ozarks, which he has portrayed so charmingly, or in other settings where the natural beauties of the countryside were always inspirational.
Never the member of any set school of painters, other than the small group whom he met in the summer, he developed independently according to what he felt was the style of painting best suited to his own temperament and best adapted to portraying the scenes he wished to represent.
Bibliography
American Art Annual, American Federation of Arts, 1934.
Art Index. New York: H.W. Wilson Co. 1932.
Bénézit, Dictionaire critique et documentaire des peintres, sculpteurs, dessi-
nateurs er graveurs. Paris: Librarie Grund, 1976.
Carr, V.E. Carl R. Krafft, American Magazine of Art, September, 1926.
Bulliet, C.J. Artists of Chicago, Chicago Daily News, November 9, 1935.
Chicago Sunday Tribune, December 21, 1930.
Clementon: Houghton Mitlau. Artists of the Ninetenth Century.
Dictionary of American Biography. New York: Charles Scribner, 1964.
Fielding, Mantle. Dictionary of American Sculptors and Painters. Philadelphia: James Carr, 1926.
Mallet, Daniel. Index of Artists. New York: Peter Smith, 1948.
Sellroe, Edna, Opinion Magazine, September, 1935.
Summer Exhibition Catalogue, Memorial Exhibition. Chicago Art Institute, Chicago, Illinois. 1939.
Thieme, Becker, Allgemeines Lexikon der Bildenden Künstler Von der Antikebis zur Gegenwart. Leipzig: Seeman, 1907-1950.
Who Was Who in American Art. New York and London: R. Bowker Co. 1937
Who Was Who in America, Chicago: A.N. Marquis, 1940.
About the Author
Lal (Gladys Krafft) Davies spent over six years assisting her father, the artist Carl R. Krafft, in his studio. Her duties varied from cleaning paintbrushes to selling paintings and etchings.
Many years later, she was approached by a Chicago art dealer, who asked her if she had ever considered writing a biography of her father. Realizing that she was the only person remaining with firsthand knowledge of Mr. Krafft's personal life, Lal obliged, writing Carl R. Krafft: An Artist's Life.
Lal is the mother of six and grandmother of fifteen. She is currently tracing her father's oils, etchings, lithographs, and watercolors. If you own a Krafft artwork, please write to the author in care of the Oak Park Art League