Nocturnal Passage, Harvey Dinnerstein

Artwork Overview

1928–2022
Nocturnal Passage, 2009
Where object was made: United States
Material/technique: canvas; oil
Dimensions:
Canvas/Support (Height x Width x Depth): 142.2 x 243.8 cm
Canvas/Support (Height x Width x Depth): 56 x 96 in
Frame Dimensions (Height x Width x Depth): 57 x 96 3/4 in
Credit line: Museum purchase: Peter T. Bohan Art Acquisition Fund
Accession number: 2011.0004
Not on display

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Audio Tour – Bulldog Podcast
Audio Tour – Bulldog Podcast
Billowing clouds, tattered flags, and a bloody head scarf. The creak of the boat, the whimper of a babe, the steady splash of the oars. A hard wooden seat, wisps of a dying a breeze, and cold mist penetrating their clothes. This is what these five people must hear, feel, and see, but what are they thinking? Who are these people? Where did they come from? What are their stories? This painting, Nocturnal Passage, is a painting using oil on canvas and was finished in 2009 by realistic painter Harvey Dinnerstein. Mr. Dinnerstein was born in 1928 and grew up in Brooklyn, NY. He graduated from Manhattan’s High School of Music and Art with the goal of becoming a classical painter. He has painted many different pieces, all detail oriented and realistic, often including people. This is one of his darker pieces. As you observe the painting’s features, some may catch your eye: the lantern, for example. The man holding the lantern is gazing forward, a sack on his back. He appears prepared, even if unsure, to go ahead and leave his past behind. About half full, the sack appears as if he only had time to throw in the closest and most valued of his possessions. The lantern could signify his hope and determination to push ahead, while the man behind him seems to be thinking differently. He is focused backward, with a black and tattered flag in his hand. He could be longing for his past, holding the flag to remind him of the place he called home, or he could be staring back in contempt, the flag a symbol of his new found freedom, the bloody bandage on his head a reminder of how his freedom was hard fought for. The woman in the back watches her child forlornly. Dressed in black, she looks like she is mourning a great loss. Could she have left a husband behind to flee or was he already dead? Maybe the child is the only link to him, across long miles or the chasm of death. The man in the middle appears as if he is concentrating on something, rowing with an even, steady tempo. He looks suspiciously like the artist himself. Is this coincidence? The only person in the scene looking at the viewer is elderly woman in the front who seems to delve deep inside you, her eyes sad and thoughtful (or is it accusing?). Perhaps your eyes are drawn to the dark shadows in the sky: a dark silhouette of an eagle, a snake clutched in its talons. An ancient Aztec legend stated that when the tribe sees an eagle devouring a serpent, sitting on a cactus, then they should build a city on that site and their gods would make it a great city that thrived. The Aztecs were in the middle of a swamp, hiding from their enemies when they saw this sign. They built a city just as they were told and named it Tenochtitlan, which is now Mexico City. This image of the eagle with the snake is on Mexico’s flag. Is that shape truly an eagle, or is it a hawk or other bird of prey? Is this signifying new beginnings for the people in the boat as it did for the Aztecs? Why is this symbol here? At a first glance the entire piece radiates darkness, but there appears to be a silver lining. Dark clouds that rise above the boat are menacing, but there is a sliver of pink snaking along the horizon suggesting the coming dawn or hope. Even the man with the bloody headpiece is carrying a flag, either in defiance or clinging to the last piece of his past, and although the flag is dark and tattered, it waves on. Safe in his mother’s arms, the baby has so many opportunities laid before him. The lantern lights the way into this new world, showing the way to this sliver of hope on the horizon.
Audio Tour – Bulldog Podcast
Audio Tour – Bulldog Podcast
Nocturnal Passage is oil on canvas, finished in 2009 by realistic painter Harvey Dinnerstein. Dinnerstein was born in 1928 and grew up in Brooklyn, NY. He attended the Tyler Art School in Philadelphia with the goal of becoming a classical painter. Dinnerstein was part of a group of recent Tyler graduates who rebelled against the prevalent modernist and Abstract Expressionist styles by painting disturbingly realistic pictures of still lives. When I saw this piece, I was surprised it was hanging in the 20/21 gallery. It looked like a classical painting with its large size, simple frame, and immense attention to detail. However, looks can be deceiving. The setting of this piece seems more modern, with flames flickering through dark clouds on the left and a soft pink sunrise on the right. My eyes were caught by the elderly woman sitting in the front of the boat. Her eyes were piercing and they seemed to stare at me while hinting of sadness. If you look closely, you can see how matted and uneven the texture of her face is. The artist must have taken a long time, carefully constructing the perfect expression for her. It can be inferred that the six people on this boat are fleeing from the fire and toward the sunlight, possibly symbolizing their hope for a better life in their new home or their desire to escape their past. At first glance, they could be refugees or immigrants. Both groups of people are very similar. I participated in Model UN this year and my council looked at many resolutions that had to do with a refugee crisis. We made many decisions that would impact refugees as a whole without considering how they could affect individuals. I think that we hear about refugees and immigrants so much, they become just words. This painting made me think about how behind those words there are people, each with their own story and reason for leaving. There is a shadow of an eagle in the background, a snake clutched in its talons. An Aztec legend stated that when a tribe saw an eagle devouring a serpent sitting on a cactus, they should build a city on that site and their gods would make the city thrive. I believe that this symbolizes a new beginning for these people as it did for the Aztecs. At first sight, the mood of this painting seems dark. As you look closely, you can see small areas of light such as the glow of the lantern and the sunrise on the horizon juxtaposed against the shadowy billowing clouds and murky water. Could these glimmers of light symbolize hope for these people as they head toward an unknown future?
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