Walter Hatke
Paintings, Drawings and Prints, 1969-1999

Union College Faculty Exhibition
January 13 - March 12, 2000

Frankiln Square, 1998, watercolor/paper, 20" x 27"

Trestle, 1999, oil/linen, 28" x 72"

 Painting, 1981, alkyd on paper, 4 1/2" x 11 1/2"

 
Tent, 1984, lithograph, 11" x 16"


 

Clarity and Light: The Paintings of Walter Hatke

I see but one rule: to be clear. If I am not clear, all my world crumbles to nothing. - Stendhal

THERE IS AN ASPECT of American landscape painting that diverts all attention away from the artist and directs it toward the subject. Through this enhanced form of representation, our sense of the artist’s presence is minimized, and the conviction that we are observing a truthful account of the facts of nature is heightened. This approach has its roots in Dutch, German, Scandinavian, and French naturalism, and on our shores extends from the nineteenth century to the present without abatement. Earlier American manifestations include the crystalline views of Fitz Hugh Lane, such as Lumber Schooners at Evening on Penobscot Bay (1860), and Thomas Eakins’ Max Schmitt in a Single Scull (1871) as well as the contemporary landscapes of Rackstraw Downes, Catherine Murphy, William Beckman, and from them, to artists of the following generation, such as Walter Hatke.

While the results may appear to be similar to the heightened verisimilitude of the Photorealists, there are several factors that separate their means and results. First, while the canvases of Downes, Murphy, Beckman, and Hatke may have the appearance of photo-derived painting, their work centers on the practice of plain air painting rather than photography. Theirs is an extended, empirical accumulation of information and a stabilization of transient conditions, whereas the paintings of the Photo realists are based on the limited focal plane of the camera and the instantaneous visual overload of a moment frozen in time. However, both share a foundation in the illusionism of the enigmatic Delft poet, Jan Vermeer, and for both there is the lingering presence of Edward Hopper and of Charles Sheeler. Hopper for his ability to invoke mood, and Sheeler for his precision and keen editing, and both for the expressive possibilities of realism. The compression of an extended period of time, which characterizes these contemporary plain air painters, is readily apparent in the tranquil yard of Hatke’s Upstate. Long, late afternoon shadows slip down the white clapboards of an unpretentious farmhouse on a clear, serene day. Day lilies and other summer flowers are in bloom in the well-tended garden. However, the trees are caught in their autumnal colors of yellow, gold, and red.

The quietude of the small town—described through the themes of yards, gardens, rural out buildings, and architecture—has been a recurrent theme in Hatke’s drawings, lithographs, and paintings for more than two decades. It is evident in the early lithographs, East Side and Tent; in drawings such as Wisdom’s Valley and Of Memory and the Wall; in paintings such as the diminutive, Seurat-like Raking, the watercolor Dayspring Garden, a view of an inland Maine neighborhood from a vegetable garden, and the efficient, carefully tended cluster of agrarian buildings in Option. Of the more purely architectural subjects, the charcoal and graphite drawing Futures, can be read as an homage to the exactitude of Sheeler, whereas Franklin Square reflects his acknowledged connection to the watercolors of Hopper.
Of these emotionally stabilizing subjects, Hatke has written, “Too often in the late twentieth century we race past places, never giving them the viewing and experiencing they deserve. Is it any wonder so many people these days seem to feel a sense of loss—spiritually in the broadest sense and otherwise? We are too detached from our surroundings, our histories, indeed, ourselves.”

Hatke’s subtle manipulation of spatial geometry can be too easily overlooked in his calm, inauspicious views, such as Painting, Renovation, Upstate, and Option. However, when these same formal elements—the careful balance of objects, receding space, and the Mondrian-like grid of rectilinear forms— are applied to his interiors and still lifes, the controlled tautness of his compositions is inescapable. In addition, one element of the interiors provide a major key to Hatke’s paintings and graphics, regardless of the subject, and that is the role assigned to ambient light. It is a consistent thread, traceable from the early 96 Prince Street (1969), which shows the influence of Jack Beal’s Table paintings, through the abstract chiaroscuro of Late Summer (1977) (not in the exhibition), the austere eloquence of Room of the Sun (1979), the white, serene stillness of Rooms on Broadway (1980), the repeated patterns and rectilinear forms of Raiment (1989), and the subtle description of the vertically banded shallow space in the abstract Servant’s Light (1998).

Hatke has said, “If there is a unifying factor or element in my work it is light. One could almost say that it’s the discreet subject in all of my work. Rest assured I think of light in many ways and on many levels. Likewise the corresponding shadows. These go to give shape, form , color, and space, create structure, define air. Still, that’s just the way I look at it. There are many other possibilities.”

Light is a major element for descriptive, formal, and expressive possibilities, as we have learned from movies, theater, ballet, and opera, and as Hopper has taught us so well, in paintings like Rooms by the Sea and Sun in an Empty Room. Not only does light describe form and define space, more than any other element it is the primary means for instilling and conveying subtleties of mood. That Hatke has picked up on this key is evident in a wide range of his works—from the tranquility of Late Summer, to the dark, brooding interior space of Millennial Conversations, to the mysterious trompe l’oeil still life, Mirrors—and the effects of light lies at the center of his landscapes.

Hatke has long eschewed the picturesque in his interiors, still lifes, and landscapes. Even though some of America’s only remaining virgin forests are in his region of New York State, he leaves such subjects to other painters. There are no primeval woods, rushing streams, or picturesque mountains in his views. Like the backyards and architectural studies, his landscapes have always reflected the presence of man. Further, Hatke’s placid views give evidence of a harmonious and symbiotic relationship with nature. This aspect can be followed from Hill (1982), to the hushed serenity of Levels:  (1992) and the tranquility of Trestle (1999), one of the most recent canvases. That these scenes are locked to regional particulars should not be overlooked, for it is central to the character of Hatke’s vision.

In the artist’s words, “Upstate New York is remarkable for its variety. There is an abundance of color here, punctuated by a great deal of change. There is a vastness to this land (not found in New England); there’s lots of water, deep forest, mountains and open plains. The skies can be magnificent. The light is never as searing as that of my upbringing. Yet this is a region that seems to combine the essence of many others. It truly is an empire. There can be a brightness to this northern region, and there is also an extraordinarily haunting darkness.”

 Over the last decade, marked by paintings ranging from Raiment, to the subtle commentary on religious freedom (Hatke is a follower of the Baha’i faith) Seeing Zarrin, and the instructional homage From R.S., to Levels:The Mohawk River Erie Canal Lock at Visher Ferry, its half scale drawing Erie Lock No. 7, and the recent Trestle, it is possible to trace Hatke’s maturation as an artist. These last landscapes not only clarify his sensibility, they bring him closer to the stillness, calm, and spirituality that lies at the heart of American Luminism and defines the deeply personal character of his regional vision. Along with his contemporaries in other parts of the country, such as David Bates, James Winn, Keith Jacobshagen, and Tom Uttech, Walter Hatke has defined what is perhaps the most positive side of American painting at the close of our century. In these troubled times, these are images of intimacy, clarity and light.

- John Arthur

Self Portrait, 1973
graphite on paper
28" x 22"
 

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