The works in “William Gropper: Artist of the People,” a sharply political survey of the left-wing painter and illustrator, come in three modes and two sizes. The cartoons and lithographs in the Phillips Collection show are designed to fit on a book page or a newspaper sheet, while the murals are scaled to the walls of large public buildings. What links them all is Gropper’s style, straightforward yet often distinctive, and his concerns about social justice in the principal era covered by this show, from 1932 to 1957.
There’s actually room for just a single mural-size painting in the modestly sized exhibition: a 14-foot-high picture of mythic lumberjack Paul Bunyan as a working-class hero. The vertical picture towers nearly from floor to ceiling in the one of the show’s two galleries that’s big enough to accommodate it. The rest of the documentation of Gropper’s mural making is restricted to small studies for large paintings, including one, “Construction of the Dam,” commissioned for the Department of the Interior headquarters in Washington.
Curated by Elsa Smithgall, the show is heavy on political cartoons, many made during World War II or the years just before it. Hitler makes an appearance, operating a homicidal skull-shaped mechanism, and there are plenty of Nazi-style swastikas. Also included are images of Hirohito, presented with a warning from the Phillips about their stereotypical depiction of a Japanese person. But chief among Gropper’s adversaries were such prominent pro-fascist Americans as Charles Lindbergh, William Randolph Hearst, Ezra Pound and antisemitic radio broadcaster Father Charles Coughlin. The prominence of these caricatures suggests that the exhibition was keyed, at least in part, to this year’s presidential election.
Born in New York City, Gropper (1897-1977) was the son of Jewish parents from Romania and Ukraine. His outlook was shaped by the struggles of the immigrants and laborers around him, in both his Lower East Side neighborhood and his family. When he was a boy, one of his aunts died in the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which had the highest human cost of any disaster in the city during the 20th century.
Gropper joined the staff of the New York Tribune in 1917 and later contributed to Vanity Fair. The magazine sent him to Washington, a visit that later yielded a portrait of a blustering and slightly cubist “Eternal Senator.” But many of Gropper’s drawings and cartoons were done for such leftist journals as New Masses, Rebel Worker and the Liberator, as well as the Yiddish-language Morning Freiheit.
That last publication was affiliated with the U.S. Communist Party. While Gropper never joined the party, he did spend a year in the Soviet Union in 1924-1925, at the beginning of Stalin’s reign, and briefly worked for Pravda. The artist’s politics were always controversial, which complicated some assignments. Gropper had to work from photographs to paint a heroic vision of workers at a Ford automobile plant for a Detroit post office mural because the car company banned him from its building.
In the Joseph McCarthy era, Gropper and Rockwell Kent were the only visual artists targeted by the House Un-American Activities Committee. Gropper’s 1953 blacklisting inspired some of his best work, a 1953-1957 set of lithographs, “Capriccios,” titled in homage to Goya’s “Los Caprichos,” aquatints and etchings characterized by acidic and sometimes feverish social commentary.
Gropper’s lithographs are as pointed as the artist’s political cartoons, but more elegantly rendered and less tied to specific events. Their subjects include politicians and sweatshop workers, while their inspirations span Lincoln and Shakespeare. Rendered mostly in rich grays, the prints boast dynamic compositions and modernist touches, such as the Picasso-like horse in “Dictatorship.”
“Artist of the People” might seem like the latest in a string of Phillips Collection shows that shift away from the museum’s original focus. The Phillips was long known for lush colorists and stylistic innovators, not political themes. Yet Duncan and Marjorie Phillips, who founded the gallery in 1921, bought a Gropper painting, the refugee-themed “Minorities,” in 1940. More recently, Gropper collector Harvey Ross donated nine of the “Capriccios” to the museum, which is exhibiting them for the first time in this show.
Thus “William Gropper: Artist of the People” links the old Phillips to the new one, as it reveals unexpected pertinence in political cartoons made some eight decades ago. It also demonstrates that Gropper, although not widely remembered today, was an artist whose skills were as strong as his convictions.
If you go William Gropper: Artist of the People
Phillips Collection, 1600 21st St. NW. phillipscollection.org. 202-387-2151.
Dates: Through Jan. 5.
Prices: Free (for members and visitors age 18 and under) to $20.