Arts and Letters

Carl Zigrosser wrote of Thomas Nason that he was "a pastoral poet on wood." This seems to me such a complete picture of the artist that anything I may now say merely substantiates the description.

The graphic artist—and especially, perhaps, the wood engraver, whose very medium demands such foresight and planning because there is no "out" for a mistake—has more need for discipline than the artist in other forms of expression. Tom Nason was a superbly disciplined craftsman, with a passion for perfection. He came in on the wave of wood engraving in the early twenties of this century, when there was not as yet today's sense of rush and destructive economic urgency. One feels in his work that the engraving tool is just simply an extension of his own creative entity, so perfectly does it seem to obey his demands.

But craftsmanship is not enough. To Tom Nason it was probably merely the vehicle of expression. There is a gift rarer and higher than the talent of the triumphant craftsman; it is the power to convey emotion. His superb technique never obscured the vision in his work, for his graving tool held the power to carry a sense of mood. Little concerned with a consciously evolved calligraphic design, he devoted his creative excitement to the natural world around him. And this love for trees and earth pervades his work. He gave an element of sanctity to haystack and silo; but always there was the backbone of reality, for he was no sentimentalist. While I find myself, in saying this, flinging my mind back to Samuel Palmer and Edward Calvert, who so deeply were his spirit kin—and perhaps, even a little bit to the William Blake of the Virgil's Georgics—then I realize that the natural world of Tom Nason held a tougher and more austere character than did that of these English artists. He knew and portrayed the somber gloom and loneliness of the New England winters, as well as the lush growth of the heat of summer. And though his work chanced to be against the background of New England, yet always it held the universality of the land.

As I think of Tom Nason and his deep concern with the earth and all growing things, I like to remember a nice story of him and Robert Frost. They had come together for a party at Joe Blumenthal's, after a public lecture that had been given by Frost. Unbeknownst to either of them or to the hosts, a technician making a film of Mr. Frost had inserted a microphone into a flower vase in an anteroom where the two New Englanders, Nason and Frost, were presumably quietly conversing. When the talk was played back there were no profound philosophical thoughts in it. All it had to give to the world was a lengthy discussion between the two men as to the best way to prevent the raccoons from coming and eating their corn.

And this incident, perhaps, is one of the best ways to describe the integrity of Tom Nason. Most artists, today, feel that they have to fight for survival. A large part of their energy goes into this hunt for recognition. But this man dared to live quietly, in the remote countryside of Connecticut, ignoring the feverish demands of the New York market. With no desire for fame, but only the need to create slowly and gently in the world of his own belonging, towards the end, however, he began to feel an unavoidable loneliness, as he realized that the golden age of the superb craftsman in the graphic arts was passing.

There is a sadness when an artist overlaps his era. Had Tom Nason been able to look forward to the years and perhaps even to the many eras beyond him, he would have seen that the values to which he held will be enduring and of worth to the creative artists of the future. He would have known that he has mattered. Not, perhaps, at this moment when paintings of soup cans are esteemed highly in the market, but in the longer distant view of time and history. There must be a continuity, beyond the fancy of passing fashion. It is a continuity from which we, today, nourish ourselves; and we ignore it and deny it at our peril.

If I have to state my feeling about Thomas Nason, quite simply it would be that I am talking of a man who dared to live his life happily and humbly, never seeking publicity, with an honesty that we ought to take for granted, but that is increasingly rare. He was a man who affirmed life and held a profound reverence for everything living. His integrity is a much needed element in the history of the graphic arts.

I like to end this tribute to Thomas Nason with an intimate account of his last moments. And this is only to emphasize the values that he held most dear. Characteristically, as he lay dying, in his early eighties, his last words to his wife were to ask her to go back to his studio and clean the three paint brushes which, as he was rushed to the hospital, he had forgotten. To the very end he was the gentle artist, respectful of the tools of his work, whether it were graver, printing press, or paint brush.