Grandpa Listening In on the Wireless 1920

Norman Rockwell captured this scene of a grandfather and grandson with, what looks like, oil on canvas. There’s a real sense of nostalgia in his paintings, and you get the feeling that the process of painting for him was as much about conjuring a world as it was about laying down brushstrokes. Look at how Rockwell handles the surface of the painting; it's so smooth, almost like a photograph, but then you see the little imperfections, the soft edges of the shadows, and you realize it’s all built from these tiny, careful marks. Notice the skin on the grandfather's face, around his eyes and mouth, where you can see Rockwell’s almost imperceptible brushwork. It's like he's gently coaxing the texture of skin into being. There’s a lovely contrast between the orange vest of the boy and the dark suit of the elder. The dark background adds to the quiet intimacy of the scene. Rockwell's work reminds me a little of Gerhard Richter's photo-paintings, especially in the way he merges the personal with a broader cultural narrative. But where Richter plays with ambiguity, Rockwell aims for a kind of clear storytelling. Ultimately, both artists invite us to reflect on how we construct meaning through images.