N.C. Wyeth Paintings

“Doughboy” is an informal term for a United States infantry soldier during World War I. This illustration appeared on the cover of the second (1922) edition, which included more recent conflicts such as World War I.

Stylistically, note the strong diagonal (the weapon the soldier holds). N.C. believed diagonals strengthened a composition. We also see him outlining the soldier in black to create definition and drama.

It is also worth noting that an additional charcoal drawing—a portrait of a man—appears on the back of the canvas. My family, especially my grandfather Andrew Wyeth, loved doing this: while working on a painting, he would flip it over and create a completely different composition on the back. This is known as a recto-verso painting: the front (recto) and the back (verso).

As soon as the reader opens the book, they encounter the endpaper illustration. Endpapers appear at both the front and the end of the book and are typically horizontal.

The endpaper is not intended to tell a story or illustrate a specific event. Instead, it is designed to capture the reader’s attention. The eagle—our national bird and a symbol of America—is shown flying through a night sky with its talons outstretched. There are no soldiers and no drama; instead, we see a quiet nocturnal scene, with snow-covered mountains and stars glittering overhead.

After the endpaper, the reader reaches the title page. Here, N.C. Wyeth left space for the title and author. Rather than painting the entire canvas, he chose to leave much of it blank.

Notably, these two figures never appeared together historically: George Washington died in 1799, and the Statue of Liberty was presented as a gift from France in 1885.

The first illustration in Poems of American Patriotism depicts soldiers of the Continental Army during the American Revolution. These men were not professional soldiers; they were ordinary people—farmers, shopkeepers, and laborers—who came together to form an army.

This kind of figure—muscular, handsome, and rooted in working life—was something N.C. took great pleasure in depicting. Strong illustrations like these are meant to seize the viewer and help them imagine what these men looked like, sounded like, and even smelled like.

This is also the first time we see N.C.’s signature “puffy, cotton-candy clouds,” which reappear later in the series.

“Warren’s Address,” a poem by John Pierpont, describes General Warren addressing his troops at the Battle of Bunker Hill. General Warren was killed during the battle.

This is an excellent example of N.C.’s love of theatrical composition. The line he chose to illustrate—“Stand! The ground’s your own, my braves”—pulls us directly into the moment. We can almost hear General Warren shouting to his men, rallying them as the British advance behind him.

Again, we see N.C.’s strong use of diagonals through weapons, as in Doughboy. I especially love the water in the distance. My great-grandfather fell in love with the ocean when he began summering in Port Clyde, Maine, as a young man. His time in Maine undoubtedly shaped his depictions of water.

This subject matter is the opposite of my grandfather, Andrew Wyeth’s work, because Andrew rarely used action or gesture. His paintings seldom feature crowds or historical drama.

George Washington Reviewing His Troops was inspired by a poem by James Russell Lowell. One of the more restrained illustrations in the book, it shows Washington in a calm moment. His sword is not drawn, and he is not posed heroically. Instead, he is shown from behind, speaking quietly with his troops.

This is my favorite illustration in the collection for several reasons. I can almost hear the wind blowing snow across the scene. I’m also fascinated by how every soldier’s gaze is fixed on Washington.

John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem includes the line: “Bravest of all in Frederick town, she took up the flag the men hauled down.” It tells the story of an elderly woman, Barbara Frietchie, who supposedly defied Confederate troops by hanging the Union flag from her window as Stonewall Jackson’s men marched past her house.

N.C. often illustrated the moment just after the action. Rather than showing someone dying from a gunshot, for example, he might capture the instant before the gun fired. Here, he does something similar: a troop has shot at her flag, missed, and struck her house instead. A shattered window and broken flagpole provide evidence of the impact.

John Burns of Gettysburg illustrates a poem by Bret Harte. Here we see John Burns—an ordinary man—who fought at the Battle of Gettysburg: “He was the fellow who won renown,— / The only man who didn’t back down.”

N.C. places us squarely in the drama: smoke wafts across the scene, men lie dead and bloodied, weapons are drawn, and soldiers charge forward. We also see the influence of Howard Pyle: if you look closely at one of the men on the far right, his hands are wide open with fingers splayed—an expressive detail typical of Pyle’s illustrations.

This illustration accompanies Walt Whitman’s poem. We see a young man in despair over the death of President Lincoln. The poem was written the same year as Lincoln’s assassination and reflects the shock and horror the nation felt after the first assassination of an American president.

Themes of death and loss are powerful here. We feel the young man’s grief; his face is hidden as he buries his head in his hands. It was unusual for my great-grandfather to depict sorrow this openly. Death appears in his work, but seldom with such raw sorrow.

The poem by H.C. Bunner was written on the day of Grant’s death, July 23, 1885. This composition showcases N.C.’s lifelong fascination with horses and their musculature.

Long before graduating from the Howard Pyle School of Illustration, my great-grandfather had decided to specialize in Western subjects. Pyle encouraged him to strengthen his ability to draw horses by traveling West to observe them in their natural environment. When he returned, he had dramatically refined his ability to render them.

The poem that inspired this illustration was written by Richard Watson Gilder. Here we see General Sherman, a Union general in the American Civil War, positioned in front of his troops.

The Wyeth’s have long been fascinated by military history and uniforms. This love of costume and detail was encouraged by Howard Pyle. Pyle taught his students not only to observe a uniform, but to imagine how it behaved on the body: how fabric folded, shirts creased, and buttons caught the light.

N.C.’s attention to detail is evident here—especially in the exquisite gold buttons down Sherman’s coat, and the neatly pressed white shirt emerging at the collar.

Inspired by a poem by Joseph C. Lincoln, this image shows two soldiers resting during the Spanish-American War. This illustration stands apart from the others: these men are not heroic, they are not in battle, and nothing dramatic is happening. They are simply at rest, taking a smoke break.

When I first saw this in Hill's Dining Hall, I immediately thought of my grandfather’s work. The dramatic lighting and strong shadows felt unmistakably “Andrew Wyeth” to me. N.C. was not only Andy’s father but also his only art mentor. Works like The Regular Army Man show how N.C. taught his son to see the world—and how to capture its beauty.

The poem “Annapolis,” by Waldron Kinsolving Post, inspired this composition. There is a stillness here that distinguishes it from the rest of the series.

A middle-aged woman sits on a rocky shore, wrapped in a heavy shawl. It’s fascinating how N.C. made her the sharpest, most defined element in the image, while leaving the background hazy.

It may help to consider N.C.’s relationship with his mother. He loved and respected her deeply. When he left home to study under Pyle, he suffered from intense homesickness—something we see in the daily letters he wrote back home. With that in mind, it makes perfect sense that he chose to focus our attention on this melancholy Mother of the Navy.