Chasing Dickinson

From the window seat of 7 Gosnold Street

I’ve been looking at my new Edwin Dickinson (1891-1978) catalog. He lived in Provincetown from 1912-1937, taking in swoop of art development (including Eugene O’Neill’s first play production in 1916). He drew and painted on Pearl Street. His teacher, Charles Hawthorne’s method centers on the “premier coup” technique, the first strike. Work was accomplished in one sitting and not revisited in the studio. Direct observation is the core.

It’s a technique I try to practice. Henri Cartier Bresson had a similar attitude about photography. You can often see the edges of the film on his prints as a testament to his print what you take philosophy.

Dickinson's work has two distinct aspects: the immediate “first strike” images, and the hyper planned, fantastical compositions of bigger scale. I prefer the down and dirty.

Small paintings stretch their ragged beaches into neighbors’ yards. He makes quick knowing strokes of coarse texture, and in whose traces, individual bristle strokes jolt our sense of scale. Things become recognizable. Little tiny people picnicking, once lost in a brushstroke, let you breathe the ocean. His pencil drawings feel like paintings, soft wispy tones snapped into formal coherence by a single drafted line.