Constance Coleman Richardson – Indiana's Edward Hopper?

Street Light (now called Streetlight), Constance Coleman Richardson, 1930
collection Indianapolis Museum of Art at Newfields

A  Painting with Staying Power.

During recent deep-dive research into the artistic life and times of Irvington's Dorothy Morlan, the painter I believe to be Indiana's first modernist painter, I came across another artist, also a modernist,  also from Irvington, a female as well, but from the next generation, and a mesmerizing painting by her hand. While in the book Skirting the Issue by Newton and Weiss, the most comprehensive source on Indiana's women artists, and learning about some artists associated with Morlan's career, namely Emma B. King, Lucy Taggart, Helene Hibben and Winifred Adams, I came across this uniquely captivating picture by Constance Coleman Richardson, Street Light. 

It was only later I recalled a conversation with Irvington landscape painter William B. Lawson, who some months or perhaps a year prior had mentioned an interesting painting he had enjoyed at the Indianapolis Museum of Art at Newfields.  He spoke of the same painting, Street Light, which depicted a nocturnal street scene in northside Indianapolis.  

Edward Hopper's name comes up when Constance Coleman Richards is mentioned online.  They hang together in the Newfields collection in the American Painting  room. I was familiar with his work, but not hers. Street Light would be my starting place. 

She painted the early work in 1930, and it was appreciated immediately upon its initial exhibition in 1931 at the Indiana Artists exhibition at Herron. The picture remains perhaps the most celebrated canvas of the artist's long career. It was also to demonstrate Coleman Richardson's affinity toward a soothing, grounding light or environment, in particular focus in Street Light, that would anchor her figures to their place in the world, even if the place was dark or even if they were alone. It was a signature characteristic in many of her works throughout the 1930s and beyond.

Coleman's Early Life and Irvington.

Constance Coleman was born in 1905 in Berlin, Germany, to mother Juliet Brown Coleman and father Christopher B. Coleman.

Her mother, Juliet, was granddaughter to Jacob B. Julian, one of the founders of Irvington as a village on the eastern outskirts of Indianapolis in the 1870s. The town was named after Washington Irving, a favorite author of Mr. Julian. The initial residence he had built there, one of the first in the area, was a Second Empire gem at 29 S. Audubon. Unfortunately, the stately period piece was razed in the 1950s to make way for an apartment building.   

Her father, Christoper B. Coleman, was educated at Yale, the University of Chicago and Columbia, earning degrees from all three including a PhD in history. He was employed in the history department and then as a vice president at Butler University from 1900 through 1919, when the college was still in Irvington. During that time, Mr. Coleman furthered his education with studies in Germany, at which time Constance, his first child, was born. The family would return to Irvington in 1906 where they would remain until 1920 at which time Mr. Coleman took a job heading the history and political science department at Allegheny College, presumably in Pennsylvania.

Constance Coleman would be educated at the Laurel School in Shaker Heights, Ohio, around the time of her fathers stint at Allegheny, and then at Vassar College in New York and finally at the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Art. While she was at Vassar, her father and family had returned to Indiana when he accepted the first of several positions with the State of Indiana from 1924 through 1942; director of the State Historical Bureau, secretary of the Indiana Historical Society, and director of the Indiana State Library. 

Mr. Coleman would publish several books and give many public lectures over the years demonstrating a wide-ranging interest in local, national and world history. Subjects included archaeology of Indian mounds, the history of Sunday School in the United States and the 'spurious,' his description, Constantine the Great. 

Miss Constance Coleman would be noted in the society pages of the Indianapolis papers often during the time of her education, artistic debut and marriage in the early 1930s.  Indeed, in 1925, an AP wire story reported that while at Vassar, Coleman was among twenty-four beautiful sophomores taking part in an annual commencement day ritual at the college. She, and the other girls, would bear a 300-foot daisy chain of woven flowers and mountain laurel in a decorative procession to escort graduates on their special day.

By 1930, with school behind her, she would have her first major exhibit, in Philadelphia, and create her first major painting, Street Light.

A Transformative and Festive Period (Despite the Market Crash).

Constance Coleman began a remarkable period of personal and artistic change just months after the great stock market crash and the beginning of the Great Depression.  The times were anything but depressing for Miss Coleman though, if you read her news clippings from 1930, the year the artist and her art debuted to the wider world.  Her personal life was filled with festivities and travel, and as her courtship deepened with a young art historian from Detroit, Michigan, Edgar Richardson, who she had met while she studied in Philadelphia.

The January 31, 1930, Indianapolis News reported that Miss Coleman had two paintings accepted for display at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Art. The pictures included were Crescendo and The Bridge Party. The next day, The Indianapolis Times ran a similar news item that provided the detail of Miss Coleman's current studio at the D.A.R. chapter house (Daughters of the American Revolution) at 824 N. Meridian in Indianapolis, and mentioned the submitted work The Bridge Party had been on display at the prior Indiana Artists show at Herron Art Institute. It also described the other picture, Crescendo, as depicting gladiolas in the various states of unfolding.

Miss Coleman attended a lavish costume ball on the rooftop garden of the Hotel Severin in downtown  Indianapolis on March 29th. The annual event was sponsored by the Indiana Artists Club and required fancy dress, and had décor designed by artist Elmer Taflinger with an Asian theme that year. Two art students, Miss Margaret Cornell and Miss Katheryn Peden, were photographed in their opulent outfits for a preview of the event on the society page of The Indianapolis News on March 15, in a demonstration of glamorous extravagance, despite any economic slowdown or tough times. 

Over the summer, Miss Coleman spent a few weeks at Rock Point on Vermont's Lake Champlain  according to an August 7, Indianapolis News society notice. 

Both Miss Coleman and her future husband Mr. Richardson attended a dinner party to honor Spanish artist, Jose Drudis-Biada, who was traveling from an exhibition of his paintings in Chicago to Los Angeles for another exhibit. The dinner with sizable guest-list was held in the Green Room at the Spink Arms Hotel also in Indianapolis. 

Constance Coleman (at the time) with Street Light (1930)
at Indiana Artists Exhibit at Herron, 1931  (source Indpls Star)

A Street Light is Born.

In the last weeks of February and the entire month of March 1931, the 24th Annual Indiana Artists exhibit at Herron Institute of Art was widely covered in the Indianapolis and regional papers. 

On March 1, The Richmond Item reported that honorable mention artworks in the Indiana Artists included an oil painting by Constance Coleman, Street Light.

A description of both of Coleman's pictures is included in an Indianapolis News review of the show on March 7. The unnamed writer discusses the improvement of certain artists from prior years' exhibits, notable Coleman, as follows, 

“Her work, from the promising impressionistic bits which she first exhibited, has grown to strikingly beautiful and inimitable tenancies. Her Street Light, to which was given honorable mention, is a cool green composition, with smoothly blended flat surfaces and amazing highlights. Lone Man, her second example, is an arresting study in pastel shaded surfaces, in which she has allowed the sweep of a reservoir curve and the blue expanse of a sky suffice for the detail which she might have been justified in inserting.”

The next day, on March 8, in her 'In the World of Art' column in The Star, Lucille Morehouse discusses both works by Coleman in great detail. Her observations are particularly thoughtful, and will be quoted at length as follows,

“I like exceedingly the two paintings by Constance Coleman. Since anything and everything that is a little bit out of the ordinary is called modernistic these days, the same mantle-like term that covers both sins and virtues would doubtless be applied to these two examples of excellent work. If every modernist were only as individual in his style and also had something to say that merited the saying as much as does the thought back of Miss Coleman's work, then we should all welcome the moderns with open arms.”

Morehouse continues by detailing the pictures,

“Both of the paintings...seem to be merely a fresh new way to present realism, the one a park scene after night entitled Street Light, the other a partial view of a great reservoir. (Regarding the latter, Lone Man, she adds) On one side the gray cement of the storage basin slopes downward, on the other side is the downward slope of the grass terrace, yellow green as if in early springtime.   At the dividing line between cement and grass slope stands a lone man – a circumstance which furnishes the picture's title.” 

And further about Lone Man and its technique, 

“In the background curls of smoke rise from factory stacks. The paint is applied smoothly and there is particularly fine balance of lights and darks.”

On March 22, in the Star Magazine supplement to the Sunday paper in Indianapolis, included a pictorial spread of select artists with their artworks at the exhibit and Constance Coleman and Street Light are shown.

On March 29, in a follow up article in The Star by Lucille Morehouse about other works in the 24th Indiana Artists besides the prize winners, a photograph of Street Light by Coleman is presented as an aside, under the caption, “Tonal Effects are Distinctive.”

The news regarding Constance Coleman and her Street Light and Lone Man had not yet run its course.  On March 31, 1931, The Indianapolis News reported that the Indiana Artists exhibit, just closed, was the second most popular exhibit recorded at Herron, behind only a St. Gaudens one-man sculpture show from many years prior. Total attendance was 8,686. And that year a popular picture prize was awarded to the work that accumulated the most votes from the attending public. Constance Coleman's Street Light was the fan favorite, receiving 136 of the total 690 votes cast. And her Lone Man took fifth place, as well. Homer Davisson's In Blossom Time earned second place with 40 votes. 

The Fine Balance of Light, Life and Love.

For Constance Coleman, the remainder of 1931, at least as reported in the newspapers, would revolve around her engagement and marriage to Edgar Preston Richardson of Detroit. An August 26, 1931, Indianapolis Times article announces the couple's wedding date as September 15. It mentions that Mr. Richardson had attended Williams College and was then employed as a director at the Historical Bureau of Indiana, where Coleman's father was employed. By the eve of the wedding, on September 14, The Indianapolis News reported that Mr. Richardson was now relocated and employed as assistant curator at the Institute of Arts at Detroit.

Different wedding photos of the bride, Constance Coleman Richardson, graced the pages of all three Indianapolis newspapers on or about the date of her wedding.  Her pretty and younger sister Martha Julian Coleman was to be bridesmaid, and her only attendant. Palms and ferns would decorate the church and the colors for the Coleman girls would be peach and ivory. A complete detail of Coleman's post-wedding outfit, her dress for travel to her honeymoon, was covered in the wedding day Indianapolis Times article on September 15, 1931; “a bright green silk suit trimmed in brown buttons, a brown felt Eugenie hat, with small coque feather at the side, and brown accessories.” 

The elaborate coverage of her wedding details in the papers attests to the place in society for Miss Coleman by the time of her wedding due to her mother's lineage, her father's position in academia and with the State of Indiana and her growing reputation as an artist.

By January 16, 1932, The Indianapolis News reports that, having relocated to Michigan with her husband after their marriage, Constance Coleman Richardson had become allied with a group of Detroit artists and had already exhibited paintings in a Michigan artists exhibition held at the Detroit Institute of Arts that month. The News quotes an art writer for the Detroit News who said of her pictures in the show, 

“Among the new names this year...(is) Constance Coleman Richardson, who makes a startling pattern, approaching an abstraction with chair backs and a table with several objects upon it, intensified by the use of a strong light. Even more impressive is the precision with which she makes a striking pattern of gladiola stalks, and the daring elimination in her (picture of a)...lone man on a dreary stretch of beach, all three entries expressing that individuality of viewpoint and approach which separates the distinguished from the mediocre.”

By March 7, 1932, Mrs. Coleman Richardson would present new work in Indiana when she exhibited the canvas, Woodruff Place, at the 25th Indiana Artists show at Herron.  The success of the work would be covered by all three major Indianapolis papers, repeated the notoriety of Street Light, if not that picture's eventual importance. Woodruff Place was called outstanding by The Indianapolis Times in their March 12, 1932 review of the show. On the same day, The Indianapolis News, in a review headlined “In General Modern” (quoting Wilbur D. Peat about the show at his Herron gallery), chose Coleman Richardson's Woodruff Place as the photo representative of the exhibition in the paper. 

source - The Indianapolis News

About that picture and another work by the artist, the writer signed only as M.B. says,

“It is a study in those quiet grays and drab tones so common in any street scene, and so rarely duplicated in painting. Mrs. Richardson's other entry called Wind is a highly colored, spirited picture of a flag at the top of a building mast – fluted out firmly by a strong – practically a visible – gust of air.”

Later in the spring, the exhibition in part travels to other destinations around the state. The May 8, Muncie Sunday Star covers Coleman Richardson as follows,

“One of the most unusual pictures is Wind...It pictures a large flag billowing in the wind from the top of a high pole against a background of bright blue sky in which are white, billowy clouds. The glimpse of the top of the building adds to the effect of height, while the clouds and the flag add motion. The bright colors of this picture are attractive and pleasing.”

Work from this show, including by Mrs. Coleman Richardson would also travel to Baltimore, Maryland to be exhibited for a first of its kind show of Indiana art at a Montgomery Wards department store in the city, as reported by Lucille Morehouse in The Indianapolis Star on July 24.

The next season, Coleman Richardson again creates a show stopper with light effects for the 26th Indiana Artists exhibit at Herron in Indianapolis.  Lucille Morehouse said the work Storm in the Notch possessed “dramatic quality” in her March 19th column.  In a human interest column in The Indianapolis News called “Hoosier Homespun” under a sub heading 'The Art Crowd', the writer comments on the same painting writing, “Provoking most comment among artists was Constance Coleman Richardson's spectacular little Storm in the Notch...”

The painting was detailed in an earlier review in The News, dated March 6, 1933, 

“ Perhaps the most spectacular – certainly the most arresting – piece in the entire group of seventy-nine oils is Constance Coleman Richardson's little Storm in the Notch. Though the statement is meant in the most complementary sense possible, Mrs. Richardson has a sense of showmanship that scenic designers would do well to study. There is a radiance almost phosphorescent in the splash of electric white showing above the hill. One takes it apart – it is only a composition in nicely tones grays. But as a whole it is positively stirring in its effect!” 

Existentialism with a Heart.

Other paintings by the artist can be examined to study Coleman's Richardson's continuing fascination with the balance of light and dark, one's place in the universe and the natural power of scene.

Particularly of note are Fourth of July (1944) in the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Art collection and Hot Sun (1947), in the Indianapolis Museum of Art at Newfields collection. 

Her work has been compared to that of Edward Hopper.  He was creating his first sensations, including House by the Railroad and Nighthawks at about the same time Coleman Richardson created Street Light and Hot Sun. There is a startling quiet to them both, a whispering quality that they would each continue to explore in their own way.   

But it's not really the stark plight of Hopper that Coleman painted with her solitary figures, her dark and bright scenes, her encapsulations of natural might and scale. But rather, as Lucille Morehouse suggested, a realism, an existential realism I would argue, of the essential human nature of individual being, a being mixed with the solace of an other;  a nature, a person, a light. 

Coleman portrays a grounding comfort of earth beneath one's feet, the sun's warmth, even if amid nearby shade or overwhelming firmament. Again, as Morehouse said, the “particularly fine balance of lights and darks.”

Additionally, to contrast Coleman Richardson with her contemporary Edward Hopper,  his nocturnal set pieces are often theatrical, with the staginess of mannequins placed in storefront windows, the promise they offer comes at a heavy price. His florescent baths of interrogative, sterile night light or his pagan days of sun-worshiping subjects exposing an alienated anxiousness, almost painful to witness. 

Coleman Richardson's lone figures are not lonely or alone. They often bask in a halo of light, that can be experienced as a climber feels a mountain, both grounded and challenged, firm rock underfoot and wide open above.  The opposite of claustrophobic.  A bit unnerving, yes “stirring” –  that “fine balance” of light and dark.

Mark Diekhoff, September 2025

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Dorothy Morlan in the 1910s – Indiana's First Modernist Painter, Part 2

Dorothy Morlan in the 1910s

Active Exhibition and Working Holidays.

Dorothy Morlan's active involvement in the contemporary art scene of Indianapolis and wider Indiana continues with the dawn of the new decade in the 1910s. She continued to exhibit regularly in annual exhibits, such as those of the Indiana Artists at John Herron Institute, the Western Society of Artists, and established yearly shows in Richmond and other Indiana cities. She also continued her working art  holidays at Brookville, Indiana and other locations to seek an ever expanding landscape of study for her painting.

In the waning days of winter 1910, as reported in The Indianapolis News, February 26, the 14th Annual Society of Western Artists exhibit would open at Herron Art Institute in Indianapolis. The show included work by Dorothy Morlan and had already traveled through St. Louis and Chicago, receiving good reviews in the newspapers of those cities.

The Fort Wayne Journal Gazette remarks in the March 20, 1910 edition on a traveling exhibit of Indiana artists just ending at the public library that included Hoosier Group artists and Dorothy Morlan, among others.

The Indianapolis News society page, on April 30, notes that Dorothy Morlan will spending the summer in or near Brookville sketching and painting.

The Richmond Palladium and Sun-Telegram on May 18, 1910, announced in its society column that J. Ottis Adams, at his Brookville home 'The Hermitage,' would be conducting classes in landscape painting over the summer. He was assisted in instruction by Dorothy Morlan, an artist already familiar to many in the Richmond art community.  Ottis explained the allure of the picturesque Brookville area, saying,

“Located on a narrow ridge between the two branches of the Whitewater (River), with quaint old buildings and stone terraces rising from the waters of an old canal, it presents, from many points of view, quite a foreign aspect, furnishing much charming material for the art student; while the streams, rocky ravines, roads and old bridges, in conjunction with splendid groupings of trees, with hills far and near for background, afford unlimited motifs in the immediate neighborhood...from simple door yards and old-fashioned flower gardens to far reaching-views of distant hills or wide stretches of plain such as from the artist's standpoint are unexcelled in the middle west and would be difficult to surpass anywhere.”

A September 23, 1910 front page column in the (Richmond, Indiana) Evening Item newspaper advises that the annual exhibit by the Richmond Art Association will be delayed indefinitely due the fact that the electricity has not yet been installed in the show's location, the new high school building. The lights and other materials having been shipped were en-route,  but their later installation would delay, at best, or at worst, postpone the exhibit to contain works by J. Ottis Adams, Dorothy Morlan and many others.

The show did go on, once the lights were installed, and eventually opened and was reviewed by an anonymous writer in the same Richmond newspaper on October 24.  The writer raves on the newly furnished galleries, perfect for viewing art with gray carpet background walls, natural sky lighting and work that was hanging at a comfortable eye-level. 

The show contained only strong works, the writer opined,  including the “remarkable excellence” of a Dorothy Morlan canvas, The Ohio in June.

An exhibit which was shown in the Marion, Indiana Carnegie Library was covered by their Chronicle paper,  February 3, 1911. J. L. Messena writes that Dorothy Morlan's picture, A Bit of Canal,  “is an interesting bit of work for the freedom and individuality of treatment.” 

As can be gathered by her newspaper write-ups, works by Morlan continued to intrigue and surprise with their skillful and spontaneous execution, effective moody coloration, and simplified compositions and designs – all characteristics distinguishing  her from her seniors and fellows at the time in Indiana. These characteristics, to varying extents, were shared by the so-called burgeoning schools of 'expressionist' artists, among the first 'modernists,' around the world.

The 5th Annual Indiana Artists exhibit at Herron Institute was reviewed in a long article in the Art & Artists column on the Sunday Indianapolis Star on April 14, 1912. The column was anonymous, but well written and thorough. The time frame was about a year before the appearance of Lucille E. Morehouse as the by-line critic in the Art & Artists column.

The article contained illustrations of three stand-out works, one each by by J.E. Bundy, William Forsyth and Dorothy Morlan.  Morlan's  was the “...bold, well-executed winter picture, Old Mills – West Philadelphia.” 

Although the newspapers at the time were silent on the matter, perhaps the additional instruction at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Art, at Philadelphia, that Morlan cites in later years occurred around this time and resulted in the Old Mills painting.

As promised, a year later, Lucille E. Morehouse is on the art beat, and pens her first thoughtful words on Dorothy Morlan in the March 9, 1913, Indianapolis Star.

Her study of Morlan's pictures Approaching Storm and Winter compels the Star's new art writer to contrast the strange repulsive allure of Morlan's somber colored works of dark and chilling subjects. Paintings that could be misperceived and dismissed as glumly uninteresting by average art eyes more keen for the bright colors of flowers or gardens. But Lucille Morehouse had patient eyes and an inquisitive mind,  and she took her own sweet time in front of interesting artworks. Her long study of Morlan's work results in a poetic epiphany in the writer, as she is driven to quote Longfellow in the aftermath of her reflection on the pictures.

Oh, the long and dreary winter,

Oh, the cold and cruel winter – 

As Morehouse writes,  Longfellow's lines “seemed so to harmonize with the spirit of the picture. If you have never felt...with its big icy power, the oncoming winter storm, then Miss Morlan's picture will help you enter altogether into the spirit of it.” 

Morehouse implores the reader again with her suggestion, “But you must take time to see all that is there for you, just as you would take time to read a wonderfully gripping story in the pages of a book – and perhaps to the lay the book down and cry a little...”

Clearly moved, Morehouse writes, “If you take a half hour to study it, to follow that wagon track across a snowy field toward the sheltering home far in the distance, to see the sky grow darker and darker until the whole earth seems to take on a sullen blackness, and then the big white flakes come cutting sharp lines through the gloom – oh, it is all a wonderful representation of nature's somber mood!”  

An anonymous review of the same paintings in The Indianapolis News on March 15, says of Morlan's pictures, “...two large winter landscapes wrapped in deep melancholy, a style which this talented young artist affects just now.”

Modern Art in America, and Indiana.

The Armory Show in New York, officially called the International Exhibition of Modern Art, was just happening on the East Coast of the U.S. 

America was awakening to the shock of not only cubist and futurist visions, but also the first expressions of more natural subjects not enlivened by the play of light and spontaneity like the impressionists, but endowed by emotion and enhanced by obsession. Among them, Morlan and other progressive artists of her generation, the emerging expressionists.   

On June 29, 1913, Lucille Morehouse, in her Star column, detailed the summer goings-on of various Indianapolis art personalities, including Dorothy Morlan. 

Miss Morlan, she writes, “...has opened a studio at her home 6030 Lowell Avenue, Irvington. The studio is built apart from the house and occupies a place under large beeches on the lawn. Miss Morlan will remain in Indianapolis during the summer, making studies for landscape work along the streams and in the fields and woodlands near Irvington.”

The following year, in February 1914, an exhibition and a tea for Dorothy Morlan was hosted by the Art Center Studio, on 142 East Market Street, Indianapolis. Perhaps the Studio was associated with or inspired by the artist Miss Emma King who had hosted a show and tea for Dorothy Morlan on Market Street a prior time. 

An unnamed critical review of this show is carried in a column to the February 3, 1914 Indianapolis News. Morlan's unique meld of impression and expression, spontaneity of execution and deliberative design are noticed and haggled about by the writer, who says, perhaps too critically,

“Miss Morlan's well-known preference for the quieter moods of nature is here illustrated with two large canvases...Nocturne and...Winter Evening... They are feelingly done and colorful, but too thin as to paint....”

And, 

“(in other works) Miss Morlan uses another style, that of palette knife persuasion in painting the sunshine effects...Her color is clean and interesting in harmony, yet we feel too strong a 'family resemblance' in color scheme with all the pictures, as though the artist painted with a  preconceived idea rather than being open to the impressions of the day.”

The critic follows the 'yes, but' observations on a more solely positive note,  

Miss Morlan's dash and vigor of expression engages the attention, and her impetuous handling proves her of artistic metal...”   

The column sums up with biographical information about the artist. It reports that Morlan paints near her studio in Irvington, where “...she finds the simple motives that she loves best.”   It also indicates the artist has painted on the Maine coast, noting the maritime example included in the show. Her Herron and local instruction has been supplemented by then at the Pennsylvania Academy under Daniel Garber, and in New York under Robert Henri.  

Additional coverage of the show, along with a seated profile photo of Morlan at her drawing table appears in the February 8, 1914, Indianapolis Star. New information contained in the column indicates that the show consisted of oils, pastels and crayons. The crayons primarily depicted the vicinity of Hanover, Indiana along the Ohio River.  

It is mentioned that Morlan's earliest creative interest was in writing, but was supplanted by her art ambitions due to the influence of her father Albert Morlan (1850-1926), who was an artist himself, and associated with William Forsyth and others of the Hoosier Group. Indeed an ink drawing by her father is now in the collection of Newfields, titled House at Corner of East Street and North Liberty, 1895.

In the July 5, 1914 edition of the Indianapolis Star, amid a page of news of terrible tragedies and injuries to children as a result of fires and fireworks, it is announced a group of local artists will be decorating the new Burdsal Units of City Hospital in Indianapolis under the supervision of William Forsyth. The women's ward area to be decorated by artists Dorothy Morlan and Lucy Taggart. 

That fall in October, an exhibition of paintings by local artists opened at the (Indianapolis) Propelaeum. Morlan exhibited, as well as William Forsyth, Simon P. Baus, Waymon Adams, T.C. Steele, Emma King, Frederick Polley, Otto Stark and Clifton Wheeler.

On November 14, 1914, Morlan had a painting in the Society of Western Artists exhibit described by an anonymous writer in The Indianapolis News as a  “...picture of Ohio River foothills, with the river far below the level of the eye....charming in its high keyed color scheme, the bare tree in the foreground and patches of snow give a beautiful interpretation of winter.”  

By February 3, 2015, the decorations were complete in the children's ward of City Hospital, as reported on the society page of The Indianapolis Star.  A tea in honor of the contributing artists was given, and it was noted that their efforts were largely offered free of any charge for the benefit of the city, as the limited budget for the project was taken up almost entirely with the purchase of artists materials. 

With war in Europe, local artists would occupy more and more of their time in the following years with  volunteer efforts, and by providing art works for auction to raise money, in service of the armed forces and the like.

The 8th Annual Indiana Artists exhibit at Herron was reported in the March 6, 1915 Indianapolis Star. Dorothy Morlan's contribution to the show was “an unusual picture,” Nocturne.  The painting also described in the Indianapolis News the same day as “a composition of houses and an icy stream and a snow-covered landscape in moonlight, beautiful in quality and feeling.”

A year later, in an April 1916 Indianapolis News article reports that the 9th Annual of the same show, again at Herron, contained a Morlan picture , described as “of exceptionally good quality” and “a really distinguished work.”  Winter – Coast of Maine is described more specifically as “beautiful in quaint gray green coloring and structural in composition, with hills and evergreen trees in the foreground and expanse of sea in the distance.” 

On Women Artists – A Man's World and a Woman's Words

In a September 30, 1916 Art in Indiana column to The Indianapolis News, called  'Fifteenth Article. Women Artists.', William Forsyth provides a survey of practicing female artists in Indiana at the time, both professional and semi-pro. Artists include but are not limited to Susan Ketcham, Winifred Adams, Janet Scudder, Caroline Peddle Ball (a sculptor born in Terre Haute, who studied under Saint Gaudens, and was then living in New York) , Olive Rush, Lucy Taggart and Dorothy Morlan.

Forsyth describes Morlan as “a landscape painter of talent” and “one of our best known women painters.”

Forsyth concludes his article with somewhat pithy and Darwinian remarks about art generally, and not specific to women artists, when he states, 

“Art is not an adventure undertaken by the few for the gratification of natural instincts, but a part of the complete expression of a people; not, as is mistakenly supposed, an exotic to be carefully pampered to preserve its life for a select few, but it speaks for its race in a language of its own. It is as sane a natural expression as literature or music. It desires no coddling, but its life is appreciation; without that it must inevitable die...only the strong persist, for they must feel and speak for all.” 

Perhaps I'm reading into it with 20/20 hindsight, but Forsyth comes across as a bit of passive-aggressive, a bit side-eyed,  a bit 'mansplaining,' as it's called today. 

Forsyth beckons backward, perhaps unknowingly, to a classicism of worthy beauty, recognizable by all –  man, woman and gods alike – rather the actual and unfolding individual visions that were then sweeping away all  prior commandments on art. He understands the concept of expression as a vital component of art, its undisputed indispensability – he drops the word twice – but without recognizing the very real and modern 'expressionism' blossoming the world over, including by an Indiana women in his own backyard – namely, Dorothy Morlan, his student and  Irvington neighbor. 

Perhaps an age old wisdom explains Forsyth's nearsightedness in this regard. Quoting the New Testament, Matthew 13:57, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town...”

In the October 28, 1916, Indianapolis News, it was reported that the Herron Art Institute had a Centennial Exhibition in honor of 100 years of Indiana statehood. Relics and antiques were shown as well as a gallery of Indiana artists. Dorothy Morlan's submission was a somber-colored picture called March, which was described as “poetic in feeling.”

On January 20, 1917, The Indianapolis News society page ran a lengthy column, “Many Indianapolis Women Have Gained Fame in State and Station with Brush and Chisel.” Perhaps it was inspired by or written in  response to Forsyth's article of a few months prior, to set the record straight, so to speak, or at least provide a female perspective on the  milieu of local women artists. 

The column is without by-line, and the identity of the editor, whether male or female is not readily known. But the mere fact that the article allows for the women to speak in their own words acts as a counter-point the Forsyth professorial tome.

Morlan's words provide an argument against Forsyth's notions of a generalized, communal and victorious art.

“Art is merely one kind of language for the expression of ideas. When we look at pictures or other works of art, we know something about the artist. If he is a landscape painter we know at once what he likes – the sort of thing that expresses, however imperfectly, his own temperament and outlook, for we are really seeking ourselves in nature, and we are bound to see unconsciously the thing that best expresses our own personal feeling.”

Morlan continues along the same lines, with an example, 

“The more intensely the artist feels, the more likely he is, as he approaches maturity, to seek expression by means of some one definite type. Take Rembrandt for example. Can anyone think of Rembrandt without immediately without recalling the wonderful concentration of light that is peculiar to him, and the atmosphere of mystery that permeates all his work? Why Rembrandt wouldn't be Rembrandt at all if he had followed fads and fashions in painting. Rembrandt expressed himself forcibly in one particular way, just as every great artist must – a powerful way that commands attention.”

About her particular obsessions, singularly revolving around the landscape, Morlan says,

“I am in love with the meeting place of earth and sky. I like best the kind of picture that suggests to me the bigness of the earth – that the sky has no boundary.  I love large and simple spaces. What could be finer than a deep shadow in the foreground, in fact spreading far over the landscape, simplifying everything within close range – then a gleam of sunlight illuminating the distant fields.  This is the sort of thing that makes me wild to paint – the sort of thing that I must attempt if I am to paint at all.”

Uncle Sam (and Lucille Morehouse) Says 'I Want You.'

Within a few months, the United States would join a world at war. 

Over the course of the year Morlan would continue to participate in local exhibitions, but would increasingly volunteer in support of war efforts; helping the U.S. Navy by knitting socks and scarves for sailors, and by donating art for auctions and designing  posters for the Red Cross.

As the holidays approached toward the end of the year, The Indianapolis Star on October 28, 1917, reported that local artists were holding a benefit exhibition with proceeds, in part, to support Indiana artillerymen. Artists contributing to the effort included Otto Stark, Carl Graf, William Forsyth and Dorothy Morlan, among others. 

 The following spring, the 11th Annual Indiana Artists exhibit at Herron is previewed in The Indianapolis News on March 9, 1918. New for that year, the exhibit would feature the grouped hanging of works by individual artists to facilitate better comprehension of the artists aims and style, etc.

Dorothy Morlan was only represented by only one large canvas in a side gallery according to a follow-up News review of the exhibit on March 16. The anonymous reviewer describes the picture as “one of her big open spaced landscapes, with a restful color scheme that is satisfying.”  Two days later in a review of the show by Lucille Morehouse of The Indianapolis Star on March 18, 1918, the critic highlights two noteworthy paintings by T.C. Steele, Christ Church, the Deep Snow and The Soldiers' Monument, Mid-Winter Afternoon.  She mentions many other artists and works, but is silent on Morlan, other than by mentioning her participation. 

It can be noted that the columns of Lucille Morehouse in The Star around this time begin with pleas for active patriotism. Such as in the same March 18 column, 'Woman Artists of Indiana are Urged to Aid Liberty Loan,' which begins with somewhat extreme propagandist jingoism as follows, 

“War work comes first. You women artists of Indiana who are busy with landscapes and portraits, with still life and flower studies, put aside your canvases for a brief time. You sculptors lay down your chisels... Your country calls...Your talents are in demand and you are called upon to help win the war.”  

And on on March 31, with a softer touch, but no less government-sponsored tone, Morehouse writes, 

“Here's a new way, and a commendable one, to sell Liberty bonds for Uncle Sam...Will you help? You who are public-spirited and have a few extra dollars in the bank, or dollars coming to you in your next pay envelope.” 

Morehouse goes on to describe that many artists at the 11th Indiana Artists exhibit have agreed to donate all sales proceeds to the Liberty bond effort, and she names then, one by one. Dorothy Morlan's name is not among them. 

It seems a tricky and unseemly business of Lucille Morehouse –  her list of patriots, and as a result the omission of others – which she tries to rectify by writing, “ ...the absence of a name from the above list does not mean that some other exhibiting artist may not be just as patriotic.”  

But such were the war times, when battle lines were drawn not only only on the fields of conflict, but between home-front factions as well.

The April 13, 1918 Indianapolis News reports that Morlan has traveled to New York for two weeks to attend two art shows; an Albert Ryder retrospective for the painter – deceased a year prior, and an exhibit of one hundred works by Rembrandt. 

We all know Rembrandt and Morlan's affinity for him by her direct remarks cited earlier, but it is interesting to study the work of Albert Ryder to ponder the crux of Morlan's appreciation for his work, and discover the threads that are woven between the tapestries of their visions – a subdued, yet dramatic, effect of light, the grand romance of an immense landscape and a personified approach to design and technique.

On April 21, Lucille Morehouse reports in her art column to The Indianapolis Star that local artists raised $500 for the purchase of Liberty bonds for the aid to “ many a returned soldier's comfort.” Dorothy Morlan's name was now among the lengthy 'who's who' of patriots.

Perhaps war efforts were prioritized by Dorothy Morlan, as documentation in the papers of her exhibitions and artworks was noticeably less over the following weeks and months. 

In a January 22, 1919, society page column in The Richmond Item,  'Work of Women Artists Constantly Gains Favor,' reports Dorothy Morlan's absence from a current Indiana Artists show. Esther Griffin White begins her article, 

“ The landscape phases of the current exhibit of Indiana art in the public art galleries are less interesting than the showing of portraits...due, perhaps, to the fact that some of the leading Indiana landscapists are not represented. Among those notable for their absence are...T. C. Steele, J. Ottis Adams...Dorothy Morlan...and others.”

On May 4, 1919, Lucille Morehouse, in a full page illustrated column in The Indianapolis Star reports on a new project utilizing local art talent to decorate several public schools in Indianapolis. Here again, Dorothy Morlan is noteworthy, not in her participation in the current project, but in her absence, only as a footnote, mentioned as one of many participants in the earlier City Hospital project from years prior.

Morlan's active exhibition and travel schedule of the 1910s had slowed by the end of the decade. The lapse would continue over the next few years as will be seen in the next installment of Dorothy Morlan's story in Part Three. 

Mark Diekhoff, July 2025

See Also

Irvington Historical Society

The Hermitage - Brookville, Indiana

Indianapolis Painter Ed Sanders in the 1980s

Evening, Ed Sanders, oil on board
AWI Collection, orig. acquired from the exhibit Ed Sanders - New Works, FLUX,
October 2006

A Thousand Words on Ed Sanders, Indiana Artist

An Indy artist, par excellence.

My research into a trilogy of Indianapolis art topics led me to a dusty manila folder in the newspaper archive section of the Indiana State Library downtown. I was looking into the origins of the Indianapolis art scene I had joined in the 1990s. Specifically the Faris Building art enclave at 546 S Meridian Street, and its precedent boom on Mass Ave, and the larger context of the overall contemporary scene that gave birth to both.  

Cursory and initial research into these topics at the State Library revealed three articles relevant to my study, and a common thread among them. 

Nan Hoffman's October 19, 1986 Indianapolis Star 'Art World' column, “Downtown studios ideal work space, say artists” contains resident and founding artist interviews and is accompanied by a photo of the east-facing entrance of the massive Morris Building as it was known in the '80s along with artists in their studio spaces.

Steve Mannheimer's Indianapolis Star 'Art & Leisure' section front page column February 26, 1989, “A sharing of art, but not a school” opines about a group of local painters, who share a Herron training and an association with the by then established Massachusetts Avenue gallery scene. Exceptional talent, if not a cohesive artistic sensibility or creed, was a common feature of the group Mannheimer discussed.

Finally, Marion Garmel's Indianapolis News 'Free Time' section front page article “Critic likes what he sees in Indiana art” provides enthusiastic coverage of the current scene and specifically the 1990 Indiana Arts Competition hosted by American States Insurance at 500 North Meridian. Theodore F. Wolff, art critic for the Christian Science Monitor judged the competition. 

Ed Sanders looms large in all three write-ups.

Serious meat.

Ed Sanders was slightly apologetic about the small studio space he rented in the Morris Building in 1986. He tells Indianapolis Star writer Nan Hoffman he needed a bigger place but can't afford it. “Maybe one day I'll move into a place with more room, but what I like about this place is that it's very private and lets me go about my work very seriously.” 

Sanders talks about his art materials to Hoffman. Huge oil paintings on plywood, combined with spray paint, caulking materials and more exotic items.  One work contained a real fish. Sanders explanation?

“I coated it with a lot of varnish so it doesn't rot.  I hope it works. It didn't with my last meat painting.” 

Something in the way he painted.

Ed Sanders' 1989 solo show at 431 Gallery was something. Something of a pinnacle of artistic achievement for the painter. Something of the soon to be global zeitgeist of grunge. Something of an almost tornado spinning in a circles attempting to form. Something of a cautionary tale. Whatever its something, it inspired Steve Mannheimer to write a column among his very best.

Mannheimer writes about what he sees as the show's most successful work Torso.  

“Tradition figure studies delineate bold musculature or delicate curve, express the vitality of gesture or sensuous grace. None of that for Sanders. He topples the torso...truncating the trunk, chopping the arms and spilling its guts out on the table.”

The strange workings of the light in Sanders' Torso (and other paintings) bedevils Mannheimer. He thinks out loud when he tries to explain the disconcerting effect. 

“Sanders paints a shrouded world, drenched in night or ashes. And the mass of shapes is too thickly painted and repainted, colored and recolored to allow any simple specific reading.”  

Mannheimer imagines an alternate read of the painting, if rolled on its side 90 degrees (like Sanders has  toppled his Torso).

“...the viscera bloom as flowers in a char-broiled Chagall. And like Chagall, Sanders' compositions float in a fog of melancholy...”

Mannheimer continues to reason with the dark and weight-less peculiarity of Sanders' work.

“As palpable and heavy, as grossly physical as these subjects are...no innate sense of gravity anchors them...Buoyed by the darkness, these subjects float across a range of interpretations.”  

And further, “These paintings hit the viewer like a punch in the face. The piled-up and scraped-down paint coagulates in oily, polychromed scabs.  If anything weighs upon these subjects, it is moral exhaustion. They collapse, not so much in defeat as in deflation.”    

The destabilizing impact and power of the paintings unleashes in Mannheimer thoughts beyond Sanders, his subjects, or his paintings. Mannheimer's thoughts are drawn to a negligent Indianapolis, careless or blindingly unaware of art treasures in its midst. Despite the anguished and existential screams of its best talents, despite a purported bridge to somewhere, a land-locked city sleeps.

“Indianapolis may not exactly be oblivion, although it has too often appeared oblivious to artists like Sanders.” 

A Two for Won.

Although Steve Mannheimer was reticent to declare a contemporary 'school' or identifiable movement in the Indianapolis art scene of a little over a year prior, Indianapolis News columnist Marion Garmel declared such an arrival in her column in the summer of 1990. Her remarks were based on the critical success and growing reputation of group of working artists, mostly Herron grads from the early '80s, who had exhibited at a by then defunct Lyman & Snodgrass Gallery, and the artist-operated 431 Gallery on Massachusetts Avenue. Their new association was the recently formed Indiana Artists' Forum which had a show of work at the new Hindman Gallery at Geist.

The best among them were represented in the exposition '1990 Indiana Arts Competition' at the American States Insurance Company headquarters downtown. 

About the Indiana art he chose,  the show's judge, Thomas F. Wolff of the Christian Science Monitor, said that the work “would hold up well almost anywhere.” The resulting exhibition he describes as “of very real quality, range and depth. I am particularly pleased with the award winners.”

In a personal conversation with Wolff, Garmel quotes the the judge about his unusual selection of not one, but two paintings, as best of  show. Both were by Ed Sanders.  Wolff said simply, “he's a cut above.”  It is an interesting way to describe an artist, head above the rest, one of whose winning paintings was the infamous, dismembered Torso. 

Through a desert in a school with no name.

Marion Garmel seems intent on naming the unifying feature of the high and rising Indy art movement she proclaims in 1990. She seems at a loss for words though. She names not what its members share, but what they avoid. No easy, no cutesy, no bland, she sums up, about those invited to Wolff's party. It's almost a punch line about the prior movements of Kelly, Warhol and Judd or the future AI photoshop age, but she makes the point.  

Suffice to say, it's a difficult business – the discovery, the elucidation and the coining of 'schools.'

Steve Mannheimer wrestled with the same damned predicament in his Ed Sander's Torso column. It's like he yearned for the perfect word to describe all the great Sanders-like artists around.  He did a good job wondering about their “gritty edge of despair,” their “hands-in approach to the paint,” their “sense of hooded light in cramped spaces,” and their “grappling with uncertain personal metaphors.”  Mannheimer is brilliant here, and unparalleled, in his writing on this subject. 

The searching words of his fretful dissertation could  end with the maxim he used at the start of the column. His early words say it perfectly.

“Before there is history and before there are styles, there are individual artists like Ed Sanders mucking about with that oily aroma on their clothes and canvases.”  

And whether or not history will recall, or for how long, oil paint always smells the same.  

Mark Diekhoff,  July 2025

See also: Ed Sanders - Life and Art  - partial catalogue of 2014 posthumous retrospective at Herron School of Art and Design 

The material used in this article is being used under the fair use provisions of copyright law. The content is being used for educational purposes only, and all rights to the original content are held by their respective copyright owners. We do not claim ownership of any copyrighted material used in this work.

Thoughts on the Closing of Ruschman Gallery

AI image by Gemini for illustrative purposes only

originally appearing in The Ornomath Journal, 06/24/09

Mark Ruschman's One Helluva Ride

About a month ago, I ran into David Kadlec, who used to run Eye Blink, a gallery in the Murphy Art Center. As two former gallery guys, the subject was showing art. He asked me if I ever thought about opening up a new place. It wasn't really a question maybe, probably just small talk. Truth is, I think about it quite often still — even though next year marks ten years since I closed my final commercial space. Besides Grateful Dead concerts and great stuff I did as a kid, running an art gallery was the most fun I’ve ever had doing something.

I told Kadlec no. I remarked that the local scene had changed. Things — the world — had moved on. “They don’t even do solo shows anymore,” I said. Kadlec reminded me, “Ruschman still does solo shows, doesn’t he?”

I first saw Ruschman Gallery in 1992 or 3, just before I walked a couple doors down to Bill Adkins’ In Vivo art gallery when they were still neighbors on Massachusetts Ave. By then the Indy ‘golden age’ of contemporary art was arguably ending. A 'phase two' was sorting itself out with In Vivo closing and Ruschman relocating to the slightly more remote and exclusive situation on Alabama Street. Hot House and Four Star were on the horizon.

I recall just one art detail from that day — a large calm Steve Paddack painting leaning against a wall in an upstairs storage room at In Vivo. It was a painting of a corner of an empty room leaning in the corner of an empty room. That painting, in that place, inspired me to take up paint brushes myself and open a gallery that might see fit to have such large impossible things inside and even hang them on the wall.

I didn't visit Ruschman Gallery often. Perhaps just a handful of times over all those years. Ruschman's activities were covered thoroughly in the art press though — spanning Steve Mannheimer all the way to Konrad Marshall — so you could keep up with his vision whether you saw it in the flesh or not.

When I had a gallery, I noticed all the young local artists aspired to be with Ruschman. Clearly he was able to balance business with beauty better than anyone else in Indianapolis.

At that time, in my young and dumber days, I found Ruschman Gallery ‘safe’ with its stable of regional academics. Keep in mind I was just an up and comer, trying to distinguish myself somehow. Hard knocks later, I grew to admire his long run business model. It contrasted so clearly with my crash and burn through the savings five-year plan. Ruschman’s was the tougher way, the road less traveled in the long haul, as my highway was littered with not only the wreck of my Five Ten Gallery, but with the rusting hulks of prior makes like 431 and In Vivo, and the accidents waiting to happen still on the drawing board — Oblique, EM Gallery, LAMP, Eye Blink, Everyday Inventors, Penumbra, FLUX and more. I'm not insulting us flameouts, just attesting to the dependability and durability behind Ruschman's nameplate.

Ruschman was always the standard. Others maybe wanted to be more experimental than Ruschman. Have bigger walls than Ruschman. Have more young artists than Ruschman. More 'laid back' atmosphere than Ruschman. More sculpture, more installations. More music, more themes, more chainsaws of death, whatever. In reality though, probably — just be the next Ruschman — certainly in terms of success.

We beg for change, and then it comes. The Murphy Building is for sale — IMOCA’s fired the paid staff and is tightening its belt— some Indy artists who have 'chose to stay' have finally gotten an exhibit at the Indiana State Museum (but not that many really, not when you consider all those who did not) — and now, Ruschman Gallery is closing — clearing out — bolting the doors.

That Ruschman Gallery lasted almost to a silver anniversary makes the reason for the closure seem all the more preposterous — mere economics — according to the David Hoppe interview with Mark Ruschman in this week's NUVO. Life is short, art is long, right? Oh well, maybe the math don't lie. In the same Hoppe article Ruschman does imply that in addition to the deep recession the changing numbers and habits of Indy's art collectors weighed in as an impulse to his final decision.

Maybe Ruschman will change his mind. Maybe this economy can turn on a dime. Whatever comes next — if Ruschman parks his Cadillac for good — the ride won't be the same.

Mark Diekhoff, June, 2009

see also:

On the Cusp : After 25 years, Ruschman Gallery Closing

Indy Star - Art Seen : Ruschman Gallery Closing After 25 Years

Indiana Economic Digest : Economy leads to Ruschman closing downtown Indianapolis art gallery