'The sun will not rise or set without my notice and thanks.’
Winslow Homer

I recently attended an exhibition of the work of Winslow Homer, a great American artist rarely seen in Europe (National Gallery, London until 8 January).

Homer, who began his career as a commercial illustrator, developed a style of Realist painting that captured the drama of the Civil War and the underlying tensions of so-called Reconstruction. He depicted rural and coastal idylls, the daily struggle of fishing communities and the raw power of the sea. His pictures draw viewers into their story. And leave them asking questions.

'Look at nature, work independently and solve your own problems.'

Born into a middle-class home in Boston in 1836, Homer was taught to paint by his mother, a gifted amateur watercolourist, and at 19 he was apprenticed as a commercial lithographer. Within a few years he was working as a freelance illustrator with his own studio in Boston, producing wood engravings of local town and country life for the booming magazine market.

**Winslow Homer- The Veteran in a New Field**

In 1859 Homer opened a studio in New York, and soon he was commissioned by Harper's Weekly to cover the Civil War, sending back compelling illustrations of battle scenes, military hospitals and camp life. He translated some of his wartime images into paintings and began exhibiting, selling and building his reputation as an artist.

Homer’s paintings display the immediacy, clarity and narrative power of a commercial illustrator. But, unaccompanied by explanatory copy, they ask us to imagine the next event, the subsequent outcome. They leave the viewer to complete the story.

'I regret very much that I have painted a picture that requires any description.'

A sharpshooter, precariously perched on a branch, takes aim through his scope. Surely imminent death awaits his unwitting target. A Union officer encounters three Confederate prisoners from the front. The captives express a combination of stubborn pride, humiliation and fear for the future. A veteran sets to work scything a field of wheat. The image calls to mind ‘beating swords into ploughshares’. But it also suggests the legions of war dead.

**Winslow Homer- A Visit from the Old Mistress**

With the ensuing peace Homer turned his attention to scenes of domestic innocence: kids playing in the fields and messing about in boats; women taking carefree walks on the beach. Perhaps he was nostalgic for simpler times. Perhaps he was optimistic for his country’s prospects.

But Homer also reflected on the enduring tension between the two communities in the South. Each of his paintings on this subject seems to ask pressing questions.

A former slaver meets four of her now freed slaves in their modest home. How do they address each other? How can they forget what has gone before? A Black family dress a man in carnival costume to celebrate Independence Day. Can they finally plan for better times? Two Black women carry harvested cotton in the morning light. Are they enjoying their new freedom, or realising that so little has changed?

Homer became something of a recluse, avoiding social engagements and refusing to meet journalists or potential clients.

'The most interesting part of my life is of no concern to the public.’

In the early 1880s the artist spent two years in the English coastal village of Cullercoats, Northumberland. Here he depicted the daily struggles of ordinary fishing folk; the constant threat posed by the cruel sea.

A woman with her child strapped to her back, braces herself against a gale. The Life Brigade regards the bleak weather from the shelter of their station as they contemplate the task in hand. A lone fisherman in a tiny rowing boat turns to look at the approaching fog and the distant ship on the horizon. He’s a long way from safety.

Critics often asked Homer to explain what was going on in his paintings. And he always resisted.

'Anything written or printed under a print or picture takes the attention from it and, if it is very black or white in any marked degree, will utterly destroy its beauty.’

The ocean came to dominate Homer’s later life and work. He set up home in coastal Massachussetts, lived for a brief time in a lighthouse and settled in Prouts Neck, Maine. He wintered in Florida, Cuba and the Bahamas. And all the time he painted wild seascapes, brooding clouds, perilous rocks; brave fishermen confronting nature’s fierce beauty.

Homer died in 1910 at the age of 74. He left a body of work that is bracing, dramatic, involving; that captures the spirit of a troubled age. He had an eye for the decisive moment, a gift for telling stories with ambiguous endings.

In the field of commercial communication we often employ narrative as a means of engagement; as a powerful tool for transmitting messages. But perhaps too often we join all the dots, clarify the conclusions, detail the denouement. Homer suggests that, if we sustain a certain amount of ambiguity; if we leave space for the audience or viewer to complete the story; if we pose questions and dilemmas, then we may achieve a more rewarding, more memorable effect.

Some messages are best suggested.

'Hark now, hear the sailors cry,
Smell the sea and feel the sky.
Let your soul and spirit fly
Into the mystic.
When that fog horn blows
I will be coming home.
Yeah, when that fog horn blows
I want to hear it,
I don't have to fear it.'
Van Morrison, ‘Into the Mystic’

No. 391