Edwards Art Gallery is proud to present Oil and Water: Urban and Rural Impressions, featuring the work of American Painter and Muralist Jacob Getlar Smith. Born, raised, and a lifelong resident of New York City, Smith captured the hustle of urban life and the quiet beauty of rural scenes, bringing into focus life in the first half of the 20th century in both the US and Europe. 

Smith studied at the National Academy of Design from 1919 to 1921 and was awarded the prestigious Guggenheim Fellowship in 1929, which allowed him to spend a year painting in southern France. During the Great Depression, he contributed to the Works Progress Administration (WPA) and was commissioned to paint murals in several federal buildings in Nyack, New York City, and Salisbury, Maryland. Smith’s work thoughtfully balances industry with nature and tension with tranquility. His murals and paintings remain a part of the permanent collection of the Smithsonian Museum, the Brooklyn Museum, the Whitney Museum of American Art, and the Detroit Institute of Arts, among many other notable institutions.  

The exhibit is currently on display in Edwards Art Gallery through May 16. Join us May 6 at 5:30 PM in the gallery for an opening reception.

Jacob Getlar Smith, my grandfather, and our son's namesake. My father, his son, was also a painter, Jacob’s wife (my grandmother) a painter, my mother a textile designer, and my sister a graphic designer.  And here I am, a teacher of over 30 years. My grandfather's paintings shown here have been hanging on the walls of our home and pack every closet in our house. Smith believed vehemently that art is for the people and should be made available to everyone. This philosophy is evident in the fact that many of his paintings are displayed in museums alongside the vast collection of art he gave away, used as barter for frames, or traded for other artists' works.

In my childhood home, our walls were stacked with paintings, frames nearly touching each other, and the tops just inches from the ceiling. I remember vividly a night in our creaky, old house when the walls shifted and down crashed a gallery’s worth of art, some slit by nails, frames in pieces, and my parents in their bathrobes assessing the damage over 2 am whiskey. 

These gallery walls are safe, however, and spacious. My grandfather would be delighted that young people can see his paintings all at once and not on isolated museum walls. His commitment to making art accessible aligned beautifully with his honor of being chosen as a muralist for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration program in the early 1930s; the WPA was one of Roosevelt's brilliant ideas to buoy a country deep in the great depression and desperate for hope. My grandfather, among others, painted murals for federal buildings. Public places like post offices and libraries, where Americans nationwide would easily see art and the stories behind them. I do not doubt that FDR’s program and the muralist's work helped unify the country.

Born a few years before the start of the 20th century, Smith witnessed a rapidly changing world. In his oils, you see the bustling vitality of New York City, although most of the paintings here are family-focused. My father is the boy sitting at the table painting with bunny slippers on, and my grandmother, Adelle, is featured along with Jacob in many. He was, however, known for his bold strokes and layered textures, capturing movement and energy.

He once wrote, “The artist should be a seeing-eye dog for a myopic civilization.” Smith was immersed in the life of the city, and his work tells the story of a nation in transition. His art reflects the lives of ordinary people, and the murals show the architecture of progress.

My grandfather was restless. He died at age 60, so perhaps he felt the need to move fast and capture what he could. He painted all day, every day, and his focus was largely the grit and inspiration of New York City. Yet, every summer, Smith stepped away to fresh air and a change of tempo. My grandparents went to upstate New York, Pennsylvania, Maine, and even New Hampshire. He turned to watercolors to depict the serene countryside with luminous light and delicate detail. These seasonal shifts reveal his versatility, his profound connection to urban and rural landscapes, and his desire to make his view of the world clear. Smith traversed between the urban landscape where he lived and the countryside to which he retreated. He also spent a year in Paris as the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1929, where he painted the oil of the priest on the hill. 

Looking at this show, I imagine my grandfather would hope you are reminded of the American experience nearly a hundred years ago, and maybe in many ways, as it is today. I also imagine he’d want us to celebrate the beauty in everyday life.

About the Author

Sarah Barton

As Director of Senior Thesis, English teacher, and college counselor at Holderness, Sarah has over 30 years of independent school experience. She holds an MEd from Plymouth State University, an MA from Middlebury College's Bread Loaf School of English, and a BA from Trinity College. She is the mother of Jake Barton ’13 and Maggie Barton ’16.