Theodore Clement Steele – Indiana's Master Impressionist from Munich to Brown County – Part One

Over the Hill, 1914, T. C. Steele
in both 1926 and 2026 memorial exhibits 

 

Apex at the Center.

One hundred years ago, in 1926, a memorial exhibit for an original Indiana art legend and founding Hoosier Group painter Theodore Clement (T.C.) Steele occurred in the winter months just past his summer death that year. The John Herron Institute of Art in Indianapolis hosted the event on that somber occasion so many years ago.

To mark 100 years since his death, and that original career-spanning show of his work, the largest memorial exhibit of T. C. Steele's work since that time is now at the Brown County Art Gallery in Nashville, Indiana.  

Theodore Clement Steele – Indiana's Master Impressionist from Munich to Brown County is on view from July 18 through September 21, 2026, sponsored by Bob and Barbara Stevens.

Seventy works in total, in a blockbuster show of important works.  Created first as a young student of art, then through his Munich, Germany studies period. Later, his long portraiture phase and works upon returning to Indiana and living in Indianapolis. And finally, the impressionist works, for which he is most known and revered, created in Brookville and southeast Indiana around the turn of the last century and finally in Brown County until his death in July, 1926.

To recognize with certainty Steele's standing as a foundational and pivotal figure in Indiana's art history, one need only attend the show and examine the numerous works he created over this span of about fifty years. The works really say it all and speak for Steele – his talent, his hard work, his vision and his singularity.  

The exhibition is not to be missed. It is an extraordinary survey of great works, among his best.

Large ambitious salon pieces glowing with light and color, many with esteemed exhibition histories. Smaller dark and turbulent studies of brooding weather or fog. Each painting tells a tale or sings a song, with a repeating chorus of an overwhelmingly beautiful natural world.

Too many wonderful things to take in all at once. The exhibition almost demands repeat visits.

Meridian Street, Thawing Weather, 1887, T. C. Steele
exhibited at Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, 1888 and
current Brown County Art Gallery exhibit

Aside the individual story of each picture, taken as a whole, they speak of Steele's eye for transcendent beauty, but also his enlivened soul. 

His paintings are stirring, you feel them. They evoke emotion. They record a virtuosity of the brush in his hand, as trembling as the wind, as scattered as the light and air, as centered and firm as the earth beneath his feet. One can sense the skill of his knowing glance, the speed of his decisions at the easel. 

Standing before his works, one experience his colors, our colors, our familiar Indiana. And looking at his dashing strokes, you feel his delight and joy and it becomes your joy as well.

No change in the weather or season was too fleeting or minute to elude his keen observation and deft handling of paint. 

Altogether, he paints a symphony as grand as Beethoven. In this grand exhibit, a record of a life's work second to none in the history of our state.

His history as an artist in Indiana perhaps heralded the end of the beginning of the pioneer days and styles of earlier artists, and the beginning of his own art, a blending of European innovations with the light and color unique to our region. 

T. C. Steele would affect the appreciation of art in our state.  He would have a founding influence on not only a region's art, western art as it was called at the time, but also art education in Indianapolis. 

His presence and talent would be the  formative lifeblood of the entire Brown County Art scene. His artworks and his noble example inspired those around him in life, and have sparked generations of artists since his passing.  

To round out our understanding of the man, T. C. Steele, the context of a career so overwhelming in its thorough presentation in the show, we can also look to the last few years of his life, the end of the beginning of the Indiana art we all know today.

Under a Brilliant Sky, 1915, T. C. Steele
in current Brown County Art Gallery exhibit

Proven by His Pictures.

On Memorial Day 1920, Indianapolis Star art writer, Lucille E. Morehouse, described her journey and visit to T. C. Steele's home and studio in Brown County, Indiana. Some of her picturesque remarks about the memorable day are as follows,

“It was blue skies overhead, the fresh green of May-time on the hill and meadow, and joy in the heart of each occupant of the little motor omnibus that sped along the hill road from Bloomington to Belmont...to a range of hills where you go up and up to the highest hill of all, where you follow the road along thickly-wooded  sloping sides and then follow the curve around a level stretch until you suddenly lift  up and astonished eye to an unexpected upward slope, to a flower-crowned summit  and the House of the Singing Winds.

...It was my pleasure to spend a few days at the House of the Singing winds last October. The place was taking on the color of autumn – that color which Mr. Steele has painted into so many pictures. The beauty of it then brought great delight and invigoration. But now – oh, what joy to be there at Iris time! In the time of the blooming of the rose and purple columbines!

...Mrs. Steele has planned and planted with such thoughtful care that the tints and shades afford as lovely harmonies and as pleasing contrasts as do the color tones on the canvas of the artist. It seemed as if all the iris in the land had opened its buds on either side of the driveway from the front entrance – wonderful clear blue blossoms waving like silken banners from their tall stalks; and there were velvety deep purple ones, and rich yellow and maroon, and deep cream, and pale lavender...”

Morehouse is quoted at length to provide an eyewitness account to the beauty to be seen and the joy to be felt at Steele's Brown County house and studio at the time. It is the exact same iris season, just one year earlier, that Steele painted, that same flowered driveway, in a wonderful canvas that is included in the current Brown County Art Gallery show – The Iris Road, 1919. 

The painting was chosen for the postcard and catalog of works that accompany the current Brown County Art Gallery Exhibit. 

As Steele painted, and as Morehouse described, the work shows an uplifting, curving drive through cascades of iris on either side, blooming in those creams and yellows and maroons and purples.  

In the same article, Morehouse describes another nearby scene captured by Steele in his paintings, one such magnificent example appearing in the current Brown County show,

“Adolph Shulz, whose studio is at Nashville, led a short walk through an uncleared part of the estate, the path leading down to the little stream in the ravine which has suggested compositions for several well-known winter landscapes that have been frequently exhibited.”

Morehouse may have been indeed been thinking of the large work, Winter Sunlight, 1912, created in the first year of Steele's full-time residency at his Singing Winds Belmont property. The piece was widely exhibited in its day, at the Cincinnati Art Museum, the annual Society of Western Artists exhibit, the John Herron Art Institute and in Richmond, Indiana.  

Winter Sunlight, 1912, T. C. Steele
in Dec. 4, 1926, Indianapolis News

This painting was also seen in the original Steele memorial show in Indianapolis at Herron Institute, as an Indianapolis News article on December 4, 1926, attests with its accompanying photograph.

Mystery of the Hill Country.

Lucille Morehouse describes a painting by Steele, perhaps much in the same mysterious style of a prize winning work that included in the current show. It was a painting called From the Hilltop that was exhibited in the 19th Indiana Artists exhibition at the Herron Institute in late winter of 1926. Her March 6, Indianapolis Star article describes the work, 

“From the Hilltop contains the misty poetry of the hill country. A tree-clad and swiftly sloping foreground bears away toward faint and distant ridges. Mr. Steele has sacrificed color for the veiled and gentle beauty of his surroundings”

That same veiled and misty poetry is seen in the large prize-winning canvas, The Hill Country, 1913, which was also on display that late winter of 1926, but in Chicago, at the 2nd Hoosier Salon exhibit. Shown there, as The Hill Country –  Brown County, it won the Best Indiana Landscape by an Indiana Resident and a $200 prize in that show. Its image, title and winning ways are documented in the March 8, 1926 Indianapolis News.    

The Hill Country, 1913, T. C. Steele
widely exhibited from 1914 through 1926

The Hill Country presents a similar muted and ever so slightly stylized and modern approach to landscape that stands apart in the current show. There is a dreamy handling to the background that seems a subtle nod to if not expressionism, then at least symbolism, as practiced by younger local artists of the time such as Dorothy Morlan and Clifton Wheeler. 

Fine detail in the foreground and the haze of suggested space toward the back. Perhaps there was a wildfire or a burning going on the area on that sunny day, but whatever the case, or whatever Steele's reason, the resulting picture is stunning.

A painting by Steele of a similar subject but clearly a separate and distinct work, in the Indiana State Museum collection, was included in the 2024 exhibition Stories of the Salon that celebrated the 100th year of the Hoosier Salon. 

That exhibition showed a painting it claimed to be The Hill Country, a winner at the 2nd Hoosier Salon. However, the painting exhibited in 1926 in Chicago, and shown in The Indianapolis News that year, and now on display at the Brown County Art Gallery, is not the same painting that was in the State Museum show last year. 

The Hill Country (?), T. C. Steele
was exhibited in Stories of the Salon, 2024, Indiana State Museum

As Steele had only one painting called The Hill Country in 1926 at the Hoosier Salon, according to the reference book Grand Tradition (aka green book) by Newton and Weiss that documents the Hoosier Salon from 1925 – 1990, we must conclude that both the State Museum piece and the current Brown County Art Gallery piece cannot both be the 1926 prize winner.  

Part Two will discuss the discernible periods of Steele's long career and ponder his working methods in examination of the many works included in the current Brown County Art Gallery show, Theodore Clement Steele – Indiana's Master Impressionist from Munich to Brown County.

Mark Diekhoff, July 2026

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.

The Epic Dramas of Artist Elmer Taflinger – Act Four

A Gallery By Any Other Name.

The November 11, 1933 Indianapolis Star introduced a new gallery to the Indianapolis art scene. It was a gallery to play a small, but not insignificant, part in the Elmer Taflinger drama. Lucille Morehouse explains in her column that day,

“An exhibition of William Forsyth has been selected to open the newly established art gallery on Monument circle that is to be conducted in connection with the Lyman Brothers art store. Damian Lyman and Carl Lyman, sons of members of the original art firm, are co-directors of the gallery, which has been opened on the fourth floor, over the store. The fact that the room was used as a studio by T. C. Steele, many years ago, seems to dedicate it, in an endearing way, as a gallery in which to display Indiana art.

The dignified and gentle nature of the artist who had his studio in the same room in the early days of Indianapolis seems, in some indefinable way, in an outstanding feature of the room, an early fireplace whose mantel of classic design suggests a stateliness and elegance of an earlier period.

The fireplace, it might be said, is apt to give a permanent name to Lyman's new gallery. 'The Fireplace gallery' has been suggested as a name by Elmer Taflinger. And it seems especially appropriate.”

Indeed Taf's suggestion of a name would stick, and within a few weeks time he would displaying his first one-man show at Lyman's Fireplace Gallery. Again, always the intrepid reporter, Lucille Morehouse provides the coverage in her In the World of Art  column in The Star on January 14, 1934,

“The one-man show of fifty-seven drawings by Elmer E. Taflinger at Lyman's Fireplace Gallery on Monument circle enters its second and final week tomorrow. This statement of itself should be enough to crowd the gallery throughout the entire week. But when it is said that each one of the drawings was selected by a different person, as a means of assembling the exhibit, the show takes on additional interest. When these selections were made, chiefly by artists, students and models, although the list also includes names of Indianapolis architects, photographers, sign painters, lawyers, insurance men, laboratory dentists and others who from time to time visited the studio, there were no price marks to add their silent influence on the selection.”

Taflinger explained to Morehouse that he had preserved about 200 drawings in total from which to choose the exhibit. Most of those 200 produced during the prior five years, although a grand total  of between 5,000 to 6,000 had been made. The vast majority of the larger number have been lost due to wear and tear over the many years of running his school.

Morehouse describes a few selections in the show as follows,

“Clifton Wheeler choice of a feminine nude, seated, in charcoal, is one of the best all round drawings of the nude. Because it is a more difficult pose with more problems of foreshortening, the reclining male figure, also in charcoal, selected by Paul Jones, would probably be placed first as a skillful accomplishment in study of the nude.

Theodore Steele, called Ted by his friends, son of...Brandt...and grandson of T. C. Steele...selected a drawing in sanguine of an old man with a humped back. Cornet Wood selected a sanguine drawing, two figures, a boy and a girl, wearing everyday clothes and resting on a divan.

Wallace Richards selected a delicately penciled nude group on a gold background. Jean Messick's choice is an inspirational figure, a Juno type of woman.”

Morehouse described the her overall impression when entering the gallery room filled with Taflinger's work,

“The sense of color is so very definite as one enters the gallery that it takes a second look to bring a realization that the work is largely in black and white. Of course there is a generous sprinkling of pastel drawing – gloriously colorful, never gay an flashing, but with a glowing brilliancy and satisfying contrast and depth of tone.” 

It seems appropriate that Taflinger's first solo show would be of the drawing studies that were part and parcel to his teaching methods and his art school. It is unclear how many paintings of the Green Goddess or My Body is Weary variety that he had produced, or how often, to that point I his career. His specialty was life drawing, almost exclusively, rather than landscape, or still life. He was certainly able to whip out figure painting and portraits, as was seen in his flash painting duo-portrait performance at the state fair the prior year.  But again, figure drawings would be his bread and butter. 

Taflinger possessed a looming and larger ambition. The creation of a mural of his own.  Perhaps the lingering sting of the Thomas Hart Benton matter, or maybe his own grandiose impulses would propel him toward its impending creation. Maybe Taf's first thoughts on the project were more about what it ought not be, as opposed to a clear idea of what it would be. The March 21, 1936, Indianapolis Times sheds light on his thoughts on the regionalist and social realist Benton proteges at the time, when it reports, “Elmer Taflinger calls the Roosevelt mural painters the Depressionists.” It can be inferred that Taflinger's mocking quip is aimed at artists working with the government's Section of Fine Arts program to place art work in federal buildings, most notable post offices.  

Social realism would not be his goal, apparently, as he planned a more class-neutral work of more timeless and universal appeal.  His plans would evolve and coalesce into a tripartite series of large canvases, designed to hang snugly side by side, carefully drawn, and balanced beautifully in color and tone.

Utilizing a similar broad and collaborative input, as he did for selections for the Lyman show, Taflinger would again amass a list of fanboy favorites, this time from a survey of science experts, for inclusion in an encyclopedic Rosetta Stone, his mural of mind, man and nature. The project would capture his attention and harness his creative talents in the years to come. 

Apotheosis of Science by Elmer Taflinger, central panel
appearing in Science Monthly, 1940

Taflinger's Vitruvian Show-Stopper.

The finished mural, Apotheosis of Science, was complete and ready for its debut in the fall of 1939. The Star art writer, Lucille Morehouse, covered the unveiling with her long an thorough review on September 21,

“The painting framed as three panels, is in reality one continuous design, executed in oils on canvas...”

The overall subject matter of the mural can be simplified to say that it contains a central symbolic figure amid an array of many secondary human figures, animals and plants that represent a broad swath of natural and scientific creation and classification. Morehouse goes into more detail regarding the works appearance and design, 

“In the figure groups the color is kept rich and dark. But in the design...concerned with the lower animals and the plants...the color is light-toned and luminous....

...the artist...constructed his design on the Greek basis of the circle and the square. And it was upon this basis of geometrical lines that the whole composition was worked out with mathematical precision.”

Morehouse first elaborates on the stunning central figure of the composition, Taflinger's take on Vitruvian Man. The four-legged, four-armed man thus becomes a basis for design and proportion for the entire work as Taflinger utilizes the knowledge of the Greeks and as immortalized by Leonardo da Vince. Taflinger's universal man has three faces, if not three heads entirely, representing the anthropological divide of race among human beings. About the three-faced head, Morehouse writes,

“There need be no explanation...to see that the central and larger head is a carefully painted portrait of Leonardo da Vinci...well along in years, with piercing eyes beneath shaggy brows and with long hair and beard.”

The central placement of da Vinci, as Morehouse quotes Taflinger, is because “he holds his place as the outstanding man of all time.”

A latent, perhaps coincidental, misogyny in the work is observed by Morehouse when she notes that nary a woman is included in the plethora of scientific notables portrayed in the mural. Taflinger and his brother-in-law, Robert L. Black, the Manual High School science teacher who commissioned the mural for his classroom, worked together on the project. Taflinger created and executed the design and painting, while Black, in the early days of preparation and research, submitted a questionnaire to over 100 of the country's eminent scientists for their input as to who should be included in the work. Perhaps the intention was to solicit a wide range of suggestions, but the male echo chamber that sought and suggested names, came up empty on the feminine, whether mythological, historical or contemporary.   

The Indianapolis News on September 23 also provides a review of Apotheosis of Science, less detailed and more as a summary of essential features,

“The Apotheosis of Science, the latest mural of Elmer Taflinger, was hung today in the biology classroom of Robert Lovell Black, for whom it was painted, at Emmerich Manual Training High School. The mural, 21 x 5 feet in size, has attracted attention in the field of art and science which the artist has combined in the symbolical presentation of the foremost scientists of all ages.

Five years of research and study went into the making of the mural, with more than 100 scientists being consulted in selection of the figures in the composition.

Frames as three panels, the painting is one continuous design. In the central panel, the complete classification of plants and animals are represented. The panels on each side  of the central are grouped with outstanding men of success.” 

Lucille Morehouse writes a second major article on Apotheosis... with a summary of a long and detailed interview with Taflinger in his studio where he offers a minutia of details regarding the subject matter, design and creation of the piece.  Included this Star piece dated September 24, is a photograph of Taflinger painting on the canvas, on what appears to be the left of the three panels.

An article penned by Robert L. Black would appear in The Scientific Monthly magazine in February of 1940. The article contains photographs of all three panels of the mural. The most cohesive explanation of the mural's composition and intentions are provided in the article, when Black writes, in part,

“The center panel portrays  representative plants and animals of each of the main classes...the center portion of the central panel contains four Greek scientists of the ancient world, two on either side, each symbolical of one of the four ancient elements, fire water, earth and air. They are placed in defensive positions, guarding life...

In the side panels are shown forty-eight of the great scientists of all ages...and arranged according to their field of work rather than the period in which they lived. The men in the left panel  were interested in living things...botany, zoology...genetics and medicine...while those on the right panel dealt mainly with pure science...mathematics, physics, astronomy and chemistry.

Each scientist has reached a summit...and is portrayed as standing on a mountain top...each...holds in his hand a symbol of his accomplishment.

The foreground of the picture  shows the remains of great periods of civilization, which have risen and fallen while the search for truth...has continued...”

  

The Black article is also useful in that it provides a complete list of the scientific figures included in the work.

Apotheosis of Science was to gain notoriety as it began a tour of cities in the eastern U.S. in the fall of 1940 and spring of 1941. The mural was displayed at scientific conferences held in Philadelphia and New York, as reported in The Indianapolis Star at the time. 

In his old age, Taflinger was to relay the subsequent history of the mural to Indianapolis News writer 

Marion Garmel. In her December 18, 1974 article, she writes,

“The Apotheosis of Science...has hung in Manual and Shortridge High Schools, been on display in the Museum of Arts and Science at Rockefeller Center in New York, and now hangs on one of the gigantic walls of Taflinger's carriage house studio.”

And that is the story of Taflinger's revenge, his Apotheosis...

A  broad salvo of a summation. A declaration of riposte and rebuttal. A crucible of wonder and riddles.

 

A mural of his own.

Wasted Talent or Wonder Years?

The war years and-post war decade, for Elmer Taflinger, were filled with an array of activity memorialized in the press. Taflinger's PR machine would not stop, nor would it slow, even as his production of fine art did.  In this period, Taflinger, the man of art usually played second fiddle to Ol' Taf the trickster, the raconteur, the sooth-seer or the odd ball.

Elmer Taflinger creating pastel portrait of DePauw coed
source The Indianapolis Star

In January and February of 1945, as the war in Europe was grinding toward a close, Elmer Taflinger made the papers by participating in an art event that seemed a riff off his earlier stunt of painting the winning state fair dress-making beauty (and the prize calf) of a few years prior. As reported in the January 3, 1945, South Bend Tribune,

 

“Five prominent Hoosier artists will come to DePauw university Saturday to choose the most pulchritudinous of DePauw's campus and paint a coed of their choice, it was announced ...by Prof. A. Reid Winsey, head of the art department...

DePauw beauty winners will have their photographs and pictures of the artist' portraits published in the 1945 Mirage, student yearbook...”

A few weeks later on February 16, in The Indianapolis Star, a photograph appeared showing Taflinger at work at his easel, painting a pastel portrait of his chosen coed, junior Miss Helen Davidson, of Kirkwood, Missouri.  The photograph also notes the other participating artists as Earl Beyer, Randolph Coats, Ruth Pratt Bobbs and Edmund Brucker. 

On the same day, in the same paper, there was an article about a pageant in honor of the 50-Year anniversary of Emmerich Manual Training High School. The gala would include dining, dancing, a double-header basketball game, and music including a special march, Our Golden Heritage, written by Charles Henzie, the manual band director.

The article referenced an art exhibit, as part of the festivities, to include both former and current artists and art students, and highlighted the recollections of former student Elmer Taflinger,

“Elmer Taflinger, local artist and mural painter, is one of those represented in the exhibit. Taflinger 

wanted to study art, so he enrolled in one art class for a double period, and one cooking class – also a double period – to keep the record straight – and slipped away from pans to pencils so that he could spend four hours a day  with the master (presumably the late Otto Stark, of Hoosier Group fame and former Manual art instructor).  

In the days surrounding this event, Taflinger was mentioned in another article and pictured in a photograph of related interest in the same newspaper. On February 17, he was pictured in a photographed with a pretty Manual senior art student, Miss Thelma Williams, installing the the portrait of Otto Stark in the anniversary exhibit. And on February 19, an article reported that Taflinger was to paint a portrait of the late Milo Stuart, one of three principals in the school's history. The first principal, Charles Emmerich, was painted by T. C. Steele and the second principal, E. H. Kemper McComb, was painted by Marie Goth. It is noted that all three painters were Manual graduates.    

During the same period, Taflinger was a regular source of gee-whiz material to Indianapolis Star columnist, Lowell Nussbaum, and his The Things I Hear! column. A torrent of offbeat, human interest and comic material was most certainly required for the sustenance of a daily column by the writer. Taflinger was such a source, judging from his mentions by Nussbaum, whose fire hose of offbeat antics just didn't run dry.

 

Nussbaum was to cover Taflinger, the artist, countless times from the '40s through the '60s, but particular noteworthy were a couple of episodic stretches where he was to present humorous bits about Taflinger and his cats, and Taflinger and his search for nude models, over several columns each, at a time. An example, shown almost in its entirety to demonstrate the homespun inanity of the coverage, and because it is a typical example of many such mentions of Taf by Nussbaum over those years,  in the September 17, 1945, Indianapolis Star reads as follows, 

“Elmer Taflinger, the artist, doesn't know which is worse – cats or rats. Sometimes he thinks maybe it's the cats. No rats, he theorizes, ever brought a cat into his studio, but his cats – well....

Some time back, the cats dragged in what looked like a mouse. Much to Elmer's disgust, the well fed cats just played with the mouse, but didn't kill it.  The 'mouse' stayed around and eventually grew into a full-grown rat. The cats wouldn't bother it. One day Elmer discovered the rat had eaten the insulation off the wiring in his expensive electronic recording device.  

Then he saw red. From the nearby Propylaeum, he borrowed a mouse trap. Nothing happened. He lectured the cats about their duties, but they just yawned. 

So Elmer went to the dime store and bought four big rat traps. That did the trick. But Elmer's still mad at his cats.” 

  

During the 1940s, Taflinger continued teaching his large classes in figure drawing and portraits at his school, and he developed a relation as a visiting teacher and lecturer at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana. 

Regarding his stint at DePauw, a clipping from what may be the student newspaper describes a lecture 

Taflinger gave entitled “Painful Acquisition of Knowledge without the Blessing of Academic Guidance.” The talk, which concerned the turning points of his art career between the rags and not so rich ages of 12 and 35, was subtitled in chapters with competitive titles; Episode One - Beautiful Teacher or Raggedy Man Reward,  second – Murat Shoebox or What Happened to the Landlady's Cat, third – The Falling Quarter or David Belasco's Perfect Memory... and so on, through six episodes.  

The scattered and haphazard talk was summed up by Taflinger himself, when he is quoted as saying his humorous lecture “lopped off the flamboyant fixtures to my conception of art.”  Whatever that is supposed to mean. 

Taf could not settle for one title for his turning  points, so he gave each one of them two. The dueling  nature of his dual titles, reveal a warring psyche in flux. On display, his thoughts battle their competing interests and betray a lack of focus, an inability to make a decision or stick with a single 'thing.' 

It seems an understanding Taflinger had of himself, as we shall soon see, this push and pull, this teeter totter of a life and career he lived.

Taflinger's frenetic multitasking was the subject of a detailed biographical sketch of Taflinger appearing in the December 28, 1947, Indianapolis Star. The article by Joseph K. Shepard titled, He Works at his Hobby and Plays at his Work – If He has the Time, begins with a question, “Wasted talent?”

It may be more a conclusion drawn by the writer upon the evidence he gathered through the course of his interview.  Shepard arrives for the interview at Taflinger's residence in the Golden Hills neighborhood of Indianapolis. Taflinger busied himself with various tasks, both tedious and menial, 'antiquing' of bricks for an addition to his home, feeding his many cats, tinkering with his ham radio gear. Meticulous in his procrastination from producing fine art, the bricks when he finished were a perfect match for the existing construction on his home, his cats remained fat and purring, and as an example of the fruits of his electronics bug, the writer relayed the following story,

“(Taf) recorded from the radio Shelbyville's complete basketball career in the state finals last season and sold eight sets of the records to Shelbyville basketball fanatics. It took 30 hours of continuous recording, 14 sides to each set, to complete the order.”

The state of disunion of Taflinger's art career is further addressed in the article,

“...Taf works harder at his hobby than he does at his natural gift.

That's why Taflinger masterpieces are hard to find. They are crumpled in waste-baskets, they are used as kitten bibs, napkins and tablecloths...

...Taflinger admits that he has done little serious work since the mural, Apotheosis of Science...10 years ago.”

Accompanying the article, which again relays Taf's biography a rollicking and vivid way, is a cartoon sketch of the teacher. The teacher Taflinger, as remembered by his student Mickey Thurgood.  With Delilah, a favorite cat, perched clawing to his back. Taf barking criticisms and getting sidetracked with his storytelling while his brushes wait.

Elmer Taflinger drawing by student Micky Thurgood
appearing in Indianapolis Star, 1947

Mark Diekhoff October 2025

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.

The Epic Dramas of Artist Elmer Taflinger – Act Three

Stigma, any way you slice it.

For there are two possible reactions to social ostracism – either a man emerges determined to be better, pure, kindlier or he goes bad, challenges the world and does even worse things. This last is by far the commonest reaction to stigma.        

John Steinbeck, Cannery Row, 1945

Stigma was Taflinger's chosen word to most fully express the reality of his feelings after Thomas Hart Benton was chosen, over himself and all other local artists, for the creation of the prestigious Indiana murals for the Chicago's world's fair in 1933-4. 

Stigma has either of two major meanings; first, a mark of divine favor, and second, a mark of disgrace. 

Perhaps as alluded to by John Steinbeck in Cannery Row, in our world of modern men, the latter definition will rule the day. But what pain was Taflinger feeling when he took the very extraordinary and public action of filing suit to change the “nativity” of his birth, to wipe the Indiana dust from the soles of his feet? Was it the pain, even shame, of his own shortcoming, or the pain, and perhaps bitterness, of his being slighted by the powers that be? Again, as we shall see, a tree is known by its own fruit.

Full Spectrum Dominance – Taflinger's PR Totalitarianism in 1933.

Posterity records that Thomas Hart Benton was to win the media art war in Indiana in 1933, with his supreme victory on display in the Indiana pavilion at the world's fair. But an amazing array of skirmishes and small-scale battles were waged by Elmer Taflinger, on the battlefield of the newspaper pages, as he endlessly tilted at windmills that year. 

Taflinger refused to capitulate in the wake of his all too public shaming in the wake of the Benton affair. He did not lay down his brushes, and quit. There is no surrender in his bones as he fought on in the many trenches he would excavate that year. No capitulation or armistice in the man, as we begin to sense a cause for Taflinger much greater than revenge. His enemy was more formidable than Thomas Hart Benton. More unpredictable, unformed and, at times, downright crazy. The enemy of Elmer Taflinger was himself.

The word salad of Taflinger's scattered ideas was offered up in a public speech called 'The Business of Art' that he presented for the Indianapolis Business and Professional Women's Club on January 26, 1933. Reported in the January 27 Indianapolis Star, the talk was briefly summarized as follows,

“(Taflinger) sketched some ideas of Michelangelo applicable to art today and stressed the fact that the public...thinks that an artist is a peculiar person, but that in reality he must be as sane and sensible as the successful business man.

Artists are tending to make their work more human to get away from the influence of the mechanical age, and beauty as well as mechanical perfection is being achieved by fore-sighted manufacturers of today, he said. 

The speaker said it was a mistaken idea of the public that an artist excels in only one field of art. He said that a good portrait painter could paint a miniature as well as a 1000-foot painting and that the power of drawing gives him understanding and knowledge of all art.”

The work-in-process aspect of Taflinger's art psyche is hinted at in the his award winning picture he displayed at the 9th Annual Hoosier Salon in Chicago.  The January 29, 1933 Indianapolis Star reports the name  of his oil painting, which won an honorable mention in the outstanding picture category – Unfinished Picture.

(As we shall see, the painting was to transfix Indianapolis Star art critic, Lucille Morehouse, who will write about it, and its eventual name change, several times over the coming years.)

The spring and summer was filled with articles all over the state revolving around the Benton – Taflinger mural controversy. As summer gave way to fall, a new offensive was launched by Taflinger, his battle for the hearts and minds continued.

Taflinger would flood the pages of the local papers in what must be one of most bizarre public relations weeks for any Indiana artist in history. 

In early September, 1933,  during the run of the state fair, Taflinger articles and photographs appeared at the snap of a finger. 

The magic of his copy, of Taf just being Taf. 

Taf paints Calf and prize winning girl
Indiana State Fair, 1933

Over several consecutive days of coverage, the local papers reported that Taflinger would help judge the dress-making contest at the fair, but that's not all. He would paint the girl wearing the winning dress in a public display of his flash sketching technique, the same techniques taught at his art school. But that's not all. He would also paint the the fair's prize-winning calf, also while-you-wait and open to the public. But here's the real kicker.  He would paint the calf and the girl together, in one canvas, because...well...just because.  And he pulls off the high stake gambit, as documented in the photograph appearing in the November 7, Indianapolis Times. The photo shows Taf painting away, like a bullfighter in the ring, his canvas capturing both the beauty and the beast. The hilarious painting looks amazingly good.

Taf quaffs beer at Turnverein Hall
Indianapolis' 1933

His photo appeared again in The Indianapolis Times again, just two days later,on September 9. The Times and other papers picked up on Taflinger's selection as one of the judges of an Oktoberfest beer drinking contest held at the Turnverein Hall on the city' south side.  Taf's attention-seeking and performance art instincts were second to none, as he decided, once more, to not only judge the contest, but to get all up and involved. He drank from a large and ornate stein of beer, as cameras clicked, declaring,  “This is real art.”

His vaudevillian follies were likely informed by his many years in and around show business, first in Indianapolis and then New York.  He portrayed a canny ability to give 'em what they want. All of 'em, the papers, the public, the inebriated.

Taf's showmanship, or maybe some other local flagpole sitter, seems to have inspired a longtime student of his. A fledgling paint performer with a name of remarkable synchronicity and symbolism –  Isaac Lane Muse. 

The relationship between the two seems broader than teacher and student. Taf's Abraham and Isaac's Isaac seems more inexorably linked to some occult awareness of the machinations of mass media. The provocateur and the protegee, brought together at the tree by water's edge, in a fateful meeting.  

Lucille Morehouse devoted a long and tortured  column to Mr. Muse in the September 10, 1933 Indianapolis Star.  The connection of Muse to Taflinger is explained in a convoluted way, in great detail by Miss Morehouse,

"Elmer Taflinger first heard of (Muse) when he was living in a tree at Warfleigh while a life guard at the beach”

Morehouse is referring to the Broad Ripple neighborhood nestled between White River and the Central Canal. 

“(Mr. Muse) kept this up,  cooking his meals and sleeping with birds from May to September. Mr. Taflinger employed him to pose for his life class and found him so talented – judging from the compositions that he volunteered to hand in for criticism – that he gave him his tuition to pose for the second year. Another year he acted as class monitor for his tuition.”

Isaac Muse “began a serious study of art in the Taflinger life class,” Morehouse writes, at the start of her wild read. 

Isaac Lane Muse painting under water
Broad Ripple municipal pool, 1933

If you are a reader who understood Neal Cassady after drinking Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool-Aid..., perhaps you can make sense of the Morehouse portrait of Muse as a young artist. Suffice to say, in picking random tidbits from her coverage, exposure to Taflingerism should just as well come with a warning label,

“(Isaac Lane Muse) painted three pictures under water. And he did not go down in a diving bell to do it.  Each time he remained under water about three-quarters of an hour and each time he painted a full-length figure on a canvas about 12 by 15 inches. 

The municipal pool at Broad Ripple park was selected...Three Sunday mornings, around 10 o'clock...when the pool was less frequented and the artist could work unobserved and unmolested from swimmers and divers who approached him out of curiosity...

When painting under water, everything appears higher in key...A very fair skin becomes so luminous under water that it is almost phosphorescent. Sunburned skin takes on a purplish hue...Shadows are very luminous. You can see right through them.” 

Mr. Muse explained his rationale to the critic,

“I had listened to stories of deep sea diving...by a friend...he was in the South seas with a millionaire whose hobby was sea life...”

Muse's rich friend of a friend was actually the innovator of underwater painting, as the article explains. But the exotic stories of the life aquatic inspired Taf's student to don flippers and follow in the under water flapping.

The article goes on, perhaps too long, as by the end, the under water adventure of Muse has lost steam. He meets the girl, gets married, and moves to the big city to follow a new and different dream. The cliffhanger, if any, is if there was a happily ever after, or at least a relative peace for Mr. and Mrs. Muse in their life after Taflinger.

All this being said, Taflinger may come across as a self-promoter to the casual observer at first glance. But a deeper look reveals several threads weaving together his various publicity stunts. The threads of a desire to connect with and participate in the larger real world outside his everyday art world. To invite outside thoughts in, to join ranks with the thoughts in his everyday head. 

These threads can be seen in his many public talks, his judging of contests, his spontaneous participation in all aspects of society, high and low.

He was to offer a life drawing class at his studio to a couple of dozen young men, members of the American Business Club. By bringing in a group of unlikely artists, he was forced to find words and methods to teach them, to open them up to the idea and rationale of drawing naked bodies. As reported in the November 17, Indianapolis Star, he began his session, 

“Attention please!  If you were about to build a skyscraper, would you begin by building the penthouse?

It is so with drawing a suit of clothes or a dress. One does not begin with a dress.”

At the moment a model sat before the group on a stand in stark nakedness and any drawing of a dress would have to have been pure fantasy. 

“To attempt to draw a dress first would be a serious mistake...”

On the December 17, 1933 front page of The Star, Taflinger supplied a drawing of a young girl clutching at a doll while giving thanks in the lamplight of an empty room. The illustration was to draw attention to the newspaper's Santa Claus Fund that provided toys for the city's needy children. 

Holiday toy drive drawing by Elmer E. Taflinger, 1933

Taflinger  not only supplied the drawing, but he also volunteered to be on the festive Santa wagon to help deliver the toys to children, as was noted in a later article and photograph.

Finally, so beloved was Taflinger becoming to his friends and local community by this time, that a holiday present to him, made the The Star on Christmas day, as an elaborate and farcical send-up. The story was shortened and clarified as a newswire, feel-good  story and was printed in the Lafayette Journal and Courier, also on December 25, as follows,

“One Christmas present here today caused the whole town to chuckle. It was a new hat for Elmer Taflinger, Hoosier artist. The gift replaced a 17-year-old headpiece, the pride of Taflinger's existence, but the dismay of all of his friends, who for years had declared it a blot on the landscape....because of attempts of friends to snatch it...(Taf) had formed the habit of sitting on it when eating in a downtown restaurant...his friends had set up a cigar box...to take up  collection...for a new lid...The collection amounted to $2.50.”  

It would seem, judging him by his fruit, that his antics in the spotlight did not serve to alienate Taf from his friends, but rather to endear. The tree of his  stigma would only draw deeper into the soil, and spread wider the branches of his Hoosier soul.

Making a Masterpiece of the Nude.

As Indianapolis Star art critic, Lucille Morehouse, noted in her review of his two nude drawings in a 1929 show, Elmer Taflinger was exemplary in his knowledge of anatomy and rendering skills. His many years associated with George Bridgman and countless drawing sessions before the disrobed model, both while in school and then teaching, only strengthened these skills over time. That he could create drawings bordering on perfection cannot be seriously questioned. The Indianapolis Museum of Art at Newfields collection contains many examples including Standing Female Academy, Standing Male Academy and Seated Nude. But it can also be noticed, arguably, that even today, in art learning institutions centered in traditional academic training, there is usually a teacher or a student, perhaps a few, perhaps many, at any given time, possessing such amazing skills.  

The key with the nude, again as an argument, is for the artist to make good use of the foundational skills honed by mind, eye and hand to create the image or object that transcends the sterile stage of the life drawing exercise.  

The transcendence of Elmer Taflinger is saved for posterity in an early nude masterpiece, the oil painting of an African-American woman, first called Unfinished Picture, and in later years, My Body is Weary.

The picture would haunt Lucille Morehouse for many years, as it would come back to mind, and she would vividly recall its details, long after she first saw it.  On February 5, 1933, in The Indianapolis Star, she writes,

“Elmer Taflinger displays his skillfully painted full length of a seated nude...It receives an honorable mention. If the jury hat rated it as highly as I do, they would have given it a leading prize. Brilliantly painted, it is one of the finest handlings of flesh textures that I have ever see...”   

Then again, in a January 13, 1935 review of a traveling show of American artists at Herron Institute, Morehouse recalls the Taflinger picture,

 "The local artist, Elmer Taflinger, painted a nude...a few years ago that was little less than a masterpiece. The brown flesh fairly quivered with life. When it was told me that the picture had been considered a the jury for a $500 prize, it did not surprise me.”  

Finally, in her review of the 13th Annual Indiana Artists exhibition at L. S. Ayres & Co. in Indianapolis, Morehouse writes on October 29, 1944,

"When Elmer E. Taflinger exhibited his full length nude...holding a scant length of red scarf in an earlier exhibition, I gave it unstinted praise for its skillful drawing and meritorious painting of flesh textures. I have not changed my opinion about it but I am still just as enthusiastic. I hope that it will some day be added to the permanent collection of the Herron Art Museum.”

My Body is Weary is now in the permanent collection of the Art Museum of Greater Lafayette, and was included in the exhibition, Lucille Morehouse in 2023. 

Taflinger would transition in the following years to teaching a generation of students, to conceiving of grand projects, several of which he would accomplish, and some of which remained out of reach. The next part of this series will cover Taflinger's final act in Indiana, his final moments on the stage.

Mark Diekhoff, October 2025

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.