Bernhard Gutmann

Toward the end of his life, Bernhard Gutmann (1869-1936) wrote in a letter to his daughter, “It is rather late in the day, but I think I can still manage to do something worthwhile.” The question of legacy had plagued the painter through the 1930s, the Depression spurring a dark turn in his subject matter and palette. It’s the work from earlier decades, though — sensitive family portraits and colorful sketches of far-flung locales like Brittany and Mallorca — for which the painter, working at the edge of Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, is remembered today.

Gutmann was born in Hamburg, Germany, which he left in 1892 to come to the United States. His tenure there got off to an intriguing start: Lynchburg, Virginia, where he landed, was not an obvious place for an immigrant artist to live. He sketched portraits of the city’s African-American residents, not realizing there was essentially no market for them. Eventually he earned enough of a reputation that he was made the first superintendent of drawing in the public school system and also organized the Lynchburg Art League. As soon as his brother Hellmuth suggested moving to New York City in 1899, though, Gutmann was all too happy to depart. 

For a spell, Gutmann and his brother ran a fine art printing firm. The pair passed on the company to two employees when they both got married — Gutmann met and fell for Bertha Goldman, granddaughter of an original founder of Goldman-Sachs, ensuring his financial security and artistic freedom essentially for life. In the five years following their 1907 marriage, Gutmann and Bertha traveled to France and Spain, where Gutmann’s encounters with the Fauvists and time spent among lace and net makers on the coast inspired a newfound looseness and rich coloration in his compositions. 

Almost immediately upon his return to the United States, Gutmann had a painting featured in the infamous 1913 Armory Show. He and Bertha moved to Connecticut soon after, joining the Silvermine artist colony and eventually founding the Silvermine Artists Guild. The couple had two daughters together, who would become a frequent subject of Gutmann’s paintings, dressed all in white, sitting at sun-drenched, fruit-laden tables, possessing an uncommon intentness portrayed with