My Father Winold Reiss -- Recollections by Tjark Reiss

Queen City Heritage
58
My Father Winold Reiss —
Recollections by
Tjark Reiss
W. Tjark Reiss
My father had a tremendous sense of
humor, was generous, got along with people very well,
and was able to get people to pose for him who normally
wouldn't think of sitting for an artist. One of his traits that
impressed me, particularly as I grew up, was his total lack
of racial prejudice. He enjoyed people, and he tried to
experience humanity in all its diversity. This love and
respect that he carried for the rich variations on the
human theme is seen in his portraits. The many racial and
national types that he painted express an underlying dignity and humanity. He saw not only what race his subjects
were but also wanted to know their ethnic backgrounds
and to have a sense for how it had affected them.
He was the first artist to devote much attention to painting portraits of Blacks. He would go up to
Harlem, and to the Cotton Club, and become completely
immersed in Black culture. He loved the music that he
heard there. He felt that Blacks — unlike whites — could
wear almost any bright color and handle it well because of
the strong contrast offered by their skin color.
He particularly liked bright colors, especially
ultramarine blue and English vermillion red. Except in his
woodcuts and pastel drawings of people with black hair he
did not know the color black. He was quite adamant
about this, and knew that in reality, what most people saw
as black was usually a deep purple. It was his conviction
that if you wanted to have the colors show properly, there
should always be some white to give a proper contrast.
My father had taken a very comprehensive
course on color in his student days at the academy in
Munich. It included the theory of color as well as the
actual making and mixing of the paints. When he did interior designing, and the professional painters had trouble
mixing some of the colors he specified, he could quickly
tell them what they had to add to get the color he wanted.
His studies also included work in color chemistry, which
helped him a great deal in his work. Most of his pictures
have proved to be colorfast and have not faded or deteriorated in the sunlight, the way so many pictures now do.
He always used permanent colors and good paper and
canvas. The only period when this was not so was during
World War II when it was impossible to get some of the
good colorfast pastels from Germany. He was also very
conscious of the poisonous effects of some paints and cautioned students about getting any paint in the mouth
W. Tjark Reiss, retired
Assistant Director of
Educational Facilities
Planning, New York State
Education Department,
received a Bachelor of
Science in Architectural
My father, Fritz Wilhelm
Winold Reiss married
Henriette Anna Luthy, my
mother, in the fall of 1912.
My mother and I arrived in
New York in April 1914.
(Figure #1)
To look back on the years spent with my
father — from my earliest memories of him until his death
in 1953 — is to remember some of the greatest experiences
of my life. There's a richness and a glow to these years that
outshines anything since, and I think it's not just the rosiness of memory but comes from the vividness and strength
and warmth of the person my father was. He was a great
and talented man to be associated with, whether as father,
friend, teacher, or colleague. A strong memory of him is
from early childhood, when he, my mother, and I were
living at 4 Christopher Street in New York City. I remember snuggling in bed with my parents in the morning,
then frolicking around on the bed, feeling utterly secure
and happy.1
Figure 1
Engineering from
Massachusetts Institute of
Technology in 1934 and is a
practicing licensed architect
is New York.
Credits for the illustrations in
this article are listed on
page 80.
My Father Winold Reiss
Summer/Fall 1993
'
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HK -J; •
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Figure 2
•
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because of the extreme danger of poisoning. He constantly experimented with new materials and techniques as
well as with many different media, including charcoal,
conte crayon, ink, oil, pastel, tempera, watercolor, dye,
colored ink, and colored pencil. Besides his portraits, he
did wood and linoleum cuts, batiks, textiles, graphics,
designs for interiors, murals, industrial designs, and illustrations and magazine covers. He also created the largest
mosaic murals in the United States, in the Cincinnati
Union Terminal.
This versatility served him well through the
ups and downs of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s. If one economic avenue petered out, he turned to something else.
He was never on WPA and supported himself by his own
efforts throughout his life. In addition to carrying out his
own artistic commissions, he was also a teacher, both in his
own art schools and at New York University. For many
years one of his main sources of income was his art school.
Not only did he have a school in New York City but for
several summers he also ran one in Woodstock. In the
1930s he had an art school out in Glacier Park, Montana.
He taught mural painting at New York University from the
late thirties through the 1940s. During World War II he
taught a course in the School of Architecture at NYU on
the art of camouflage: how to disguise buildings, industrial
sites, military targets by modifying outlines and shadows
through the use of color and materials such as netting.
Although gregarious, Winold Reiss was a
very private person. He seldom joined clubs or societies,
nor to my knowledge was he ever involved in any kind of
open dissent. During WWI he remained neutral in spite of
his German citizenship (He became a U.S. citizen on
March 14,1932).
In the 1930s he had an art
school in Glacier Park,
Montana. (Figure #2)
59
On October 22,1913, my father sailed on the
SS Imperator, from Hamburg, Germany. On the ship he
met Oscar Wentz, inventor, entrpreneur, and businessman;
and A.L. Baumgarten whose brother Otto, a Viennese
restaurateur and later owner of the Voisin, the Crillon, and
the Elysee, had an important influence on his career over
the next thirty years. He arrived in Hoboken, New Jersey,
on October 29, and stayed at the Mills Hotel, down in the
Bowery, until he could find suitable quarters which turned
out to be a studio at 16th Street and Fifth Avenue.
My mother and I arrived in New York in
April 1914 — I was three months old (having been born on
December 27, in Munich). Shortly after our arrival my parents rented a place in Woodstock in upstate New York
Figure 3
since it was cheaper to live in the country. My mother and
I lived in the Woodstock area during the World War I
years. On weekends my father would come up from the
city, where he was doing his best to earn a living. These
years were not easy for a German national. Not that he was
pro-German, but having only come to this country in 1913,
the year before war broke out in Europe, he had a strong
German accent and his English was not very good.
The prejudices of some of the local people at
that time are unforgettable. Our next-door neighbor in
Woodstock was a doctor who would catch me outside the
house and tell me what horrible people I had for a mother
and father, who was German, and the Germans were doing
For several summers after
World War I Reiss ran an art
school in Woodstock, New
York. (Figure #3)
60
Queen City Heritage
Figure 4
ghastly things like cutting off women's breasts and torturing people.2
When my father was in Woodstock, he often
rode horseback. One day he noticed another man on
horseback riding behind him. When it became obvious
that the man was purposefully following him, my father
stopped his horse, turned around, and asked what was
going on. The man turned out to be from the Secret
Service. Some of the locals had reported that Mr. Reiss
was planning to poison the reservoirs in the area, which
served New York City. My father explained that he
enjoyed riding and as an artist was interested in landscapes, not in poisoning reservoirs. He suggested they ride
together instead of in single file. After a few days of this
they became friendly, and the surveillance ended.
When we lived in Woodstock, even though
my mother was English,3 she couldn't get anyone to chop
In his Woodstock years, my
father painted landscapes
and portraits.(Figure #4)
wood for us, which we needed for heating and cooking,
because she was married to a German. People were actually annoyed at her for not divorcing my father because he
was a German. Oddly enough, she later divorced him, but
for a different reason.
After the house in Woodstock, we boarded
at a working farm, the Lasher Farm in Bearsville. My parents had the wonderful idea of hiring horses and a wagon
and of traveling around the countryside. They planned for
us to stay overnight at farmhouses along the way. We set
off with high enthusiasm, but found that no farmers
would take us in. The farmers said that only gypsies traveled in such a way and to be a gypsy was not desirable in
their eyes. So, we had to turn around and go back to
Bearsville. After the war we continued to go to Woodstock
at various times, and my father ran an art school there for
two or three summers. During these years, my dad was
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
painting landscapes and portraits, one of which was of
Konrad Cramer, the Woodstock artist and photographer.
My father was instrumental in bringing modern art to the United States. In 1914 he helped found,
along with his friend Oscar Wentz, the Society of Modern
Art in New York City and its magazine, the Modern Art
Collector, or M.A. C. Many of the illustrations and covers
were done by my father. There was also work by Konrad
Cramer and Ilonka Karasz. The purpose of the M.A.C. was
to introduce the new modern art form to Americans. His
efforts to introduce this new art form, which seemed outlandish to many, and his German accent and lack of fluency in English obviously made things very difficult. My
mother, an artist in her own right, was very active in promoting my father's work. People, who might not be eager
to deal with a German, were receptive to mother, who
could move freely without incurring suspicion and prejudice since she was English. Father also did graphics and
advertising work. This work, his pictures, exhibited at the
Hanfstaengl Gallery, and the Winold Reiss Art School,
which the M.A.C. magazine advertised, enabled my father
to make a living during these years.
World War I eventually killed the M.A.C,
which was having important influence on modern art. A
Chicago newspaper article called modern art a secret
weapon of the Germans, designed to subvert American
culture and undermine morality and good taste. Modern
Art Collector, which had a beneficial effect on my dad's
work, ceased in 1917, and he again found it necessary to
diversify to make enough money to survive. In spite of
these difficult times, he never lost his sense of humor, nor
his optimism, that eventually things would get better.
It was ironic that my father suffered from
such suspicion during the war. Throughout his life,
Winold Reiss was a pacifist, as was his brother Hans, who
emigrated to Sweden in 1914 rather than stay in Germany.4
Violence was abhorrent to my father. For this reason, he
would have no firearms of any kind. In 1920 when he went
to Mexico, everyone advised him to take a gun because of
the civil war going on there. He refused, saying that his
pencil and paper would be greater protection, which
proved to be the case. He tramped through the country-
61
Figure 6
side for months and several times he was surrounded by
guerrillas. But he would take out his sketchbook and start
drawing. This captured their interest, and they were soon
glad to pose and sign the pictures. Had he had a gun he
probably would have been killed.
As a result of this trip, in 1923 my father
illustrated an essay on Mexico written by Katherine Anne
Porter, art editor for Survey Graphic magazine, who was in
Mexico writing articles about the revolution at the time he
Figure 5
The Winold Reiss School
helped my father earn a
living. Artists such as Aaron
Douglas (standing middle),
and Ilonka Karasz (seated
lower right) studied with my
father (standing second from
left). (Figure #5)
In 1914 Reiss helped found
the Society of Modern Art
and its magazine, Modern Art
Collector. (Figure #6)
Queen City Heritage
62
COLOR GRAVURE
Pictures in
Natural Colors
Figure 7
On his trip to Mexico Reiss
visited Zapata's headquarters
at Cuernavaca, sketching
soldiers, bandits, and revolutionaries along the way.
(Figure #7)
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
63
there. Porter wrote:
Winold Reiss appeared one morning in
Mexico City, quite out of nowhere, and invited me to walk to
the cathedral of Tepozotlan with him that day. He had visited it in the beginning of his summer in Mexico — it was
then November — and now wished to return for a final
glimpse, and to take leave of his friend Captain Fernandes,
who had charge of the ancient monastery for the Museum.
He showed me some rather remarkable sketches of Indians
and told an amazing story: he had tramped the states of
Oaxaca, Jalisco, Puebla, and I think Morelos, though I am
--• 1
not sure, alone, unarmed, carrying enough food to last only
^
from one village to another.
This account hints at my father's stamina—
the "walk" he proposed to Porter was a twenty-five mile
hike.5
The connection with Survey Graphic led to
commissions for a number of assignments, including one
on St. Helena Island, South Carolina, painting members
of the Penn Community School who were descendants of
some of the last slaves brought over from Africa at the end
of the Civil War and who had been dropped and left there.
Because of their isolation, they had maintained an unusual
ethnic purity, with no admixture with whites or other
African Americans. My father produced an outstanding
\
series of portraits, which appeared in the magazine.
After we moved back to New York City
from Woodstock, my father rented a building at 4
Christopher Street. It was an artist's dream. He actually Figure 8
made money on the building: he rented the basement to had done, no gallery would handle them because they
the Four Trees Night Club as well as two stores on the didn't want their gallery full of Black visitors. The only
street level. As a result the huge studio, which he used for place he could arrange for a show was at a Harlem library.
his own work and the art school, was essentially free. Many years later these portraits were acquired by the
Modest living quarters were in the studio part of the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, where they are
building.
now on permanent exhibition.
He also spent a lot of time in Harlem where
In 1923 my mother and father were
6
he painted a variety of subjects, including many well- divorced, supposedly because of another woman — but I
known Blacks. One of his portraits was of King Amoah III think it was also because of my mother's possessiveness,
of the Gold Coast. Another was of Matt Hensen, who which my father couldn't stand. He needed a certain freeaccompanied Admiral Peary to the North Pole. Hensen dom. After the divorce I lived with my mother, but she
told interesting stories while posing, including how he had was quite understanding about letting me see a lot of my
frozen and lost his toes in the dash to the pole. Not only father. When I was eight, I went to Europe with him and
did my father associate with and paint men like W.E.B stayed with my grandparents in Switzerland and then with
Dubois and Langston Hughes, educated Blacks who car- my grandmother, aunt, and cousin in Germany. My father
ried the Harlem Renaissance, but he also painted the ordi- traveled extensively on this trip, painting portraits of
nary people who were not well educated and who had German peasants as well as of the Oberammergau passion
run-of-the-mill jobs, or no jobs at all. When my father players. He visited his brother Hans in Sweden, and painttried to arrange for exhibitions of the Black portraits he ed portraits of peasants there.
In St. Helena, South Carolina,
he painted children of the
Penn Community School
whom Reiss believed were
descendants of some of the
last Africans brought to
America under the slave
trade. (Figure #8)
64
Much of the time Erika Lohman, a former
Duncan dancer, accompanied him. My mother didn't
know anything about this and would have been furious if
she had. It was a difficult and unfortunate situation for my
father but he understood and was always glad to see me,
doing what he could to avoid compromising and embarrassing situations. During some of the Glacier Park summers, Erika lived on the west side of the park and would
occasionally visit my father, whose studio was on the east
side. An artist, originally influenced in her painting to
some extent by my father, she later developed her own
style and produced some very fine work. My father continued his close relationship with Erika Lohman through the
1940s.7
Figure 9
My father and Erika had much in common,
but they never married. My father's divorce from my
mother, I think, soured him on the idea of marriage. My
mother, of course, could not really forgive him for what
she considered a most unacceptable lifestyle, which led her
to seek the divorce.8 Despite their divorce, my parents
maintained a fairly friendly relationship and valued each
Reiss's image of Alain Locke,
editor of The New Negro: An
Interpretation, captured the
racial pride that Locke and
other Black intellectuals of
the Harlem Renaissance
wished to project. (Figure #9)
Queen City Heritage
other's artistic ability.
Although I lived with my mother, I was
always more than glad to go down to the studio in
Greenwich Village. It was a fascinating place to visit. Not
only because it was where my dad lived and painted — I
loved watching him paint — but also because of the
school, which meant that there were many students,
friends of my father's, business associates, and other interesting people. Artists who visited included the sculptor
Isamu Noguchi whose portrait he painted; his sister Ailes
Gilmour, a modern dancer; the photographer Nicholas
Muray; Alan Crane, a lithographer and former student; the
movie actress Wilna Hervey, and the artist (and his former
student) Marion Greenwood. The place was always humming. Even Parker, the mounted policeman in the area,
liked dropping in, ostensibly to visit my dad, but really on
the chance that a nude model would be posing.
The building and studio at 4 Christopher
Street were unique. When the stores were not rented, my
dad let Congo, a Zulu, stay in one of them. Congo, a very
good-natured person, did many miscellaneous errands for
my dad, the studio, and the students as well as performed
African dances at the Congo Roof in the Alamac Hotel.
The store Congo stayed in had a big show window, which
he covered with a curtain for privacy. Sometimes he forgot
about the curtain. If you approached 4 Christopher Street
and saw a crowd standing out in front, you immediately
knew that one, Congo had set a match to his great mop of
hair; or two, he was training his boa constrictor.
Congo believed that cutting his hair would
seriously diminish his masculinity, and so he burned it off.
It was a sight to see him lighting his hair and then patting
it out with his hands. Since my father had designed the
public rooms of the Alamac Hotel including the Congo
Roof, he was able to arrange for Congo to dance there
with his boa constrictor. Congo kept the boa in a box
under his bed. It was an unforgettable experience to watch
him take it out from underneath his bed and practice his
dance routines. The boa constrictor, about eight feet long,
would entwine itself around Congo's body. He had a technique of stroking its throat to make the snake's muscles
relax which concerned my father who wondered if this
technique would always work. Congo reassured him it
would. Then one day when he was performing his snake
dance for the students, the boa constrictor would not
relax. After some time Congo lost all the color in his face.
The boa's muscles kept tightening, but Congo didn't
panic and kept on stroking until the snake finally released
Summer/Falll993
My Father Winold Reiss
Figure 10
Figure 11
On a 1922 trip to Europe, my
father traveled extensively
painting portraits of German
peasants as well as of the
Oberammergau passion
players. (Figure #10)
Erika Lohman had a close
relationship with my father
through the twenties, thirties,
and forties, but they never
married. (Figure #11)
65
Queen City Heritage
Figure 12
its grip on him. We all heaved great sighs of relief.
In 1925 at the persuasion of my father, my
uncle emigrated to this country from Sweden. They lived
and worked together until the early 1940s. My uncle, a
sculptor and very accomplished in drawing and painting as
well as in teaching, helped my father with many of his
commissions, particularly the murals for which he prepared
the canvases and enlarged the sketches to full size. My
uncle had few inhibitions. When he and my father were
walking to Luchow's in Union Square for lunch — or
wherever else they happened to be walking — and saw a
likely candidate for a portrait, he would try and talk the
person into coming to my father's studio to pose. His
effort usually paid off, and resulted in securing many quite
interesting subjects.
Among the interesting people who posed for
Winold Reiss were the "King of the Hobos," whose portrait turned out to be a very fine one; William Henry
Jackson, and Bill Hooker. Jackson (1843- 1942) was a pioneer photographer, historian, and artist of the West who
took the first photographs of the Yellowstone region.
While posing he described his life as a pioneer on the
Oregon Trail and the Old Spanish Trail. In addition to the
mass of photos he took, he also portrayed the West in
watercolor. Bill Hooker was a pony express rider and an
Oregon Trail Blazer of the 1870s. Other unique characters
painted by Winold Reiss on his western trips included
Fisherman Harrison, Sergeant Howard of the Royal
Canadian Mounted Police; Hans Thompson, pioneer;
"Colonel" E.A. Smith, at age ninety-four; Ewald von
Hoffman; "Montana Red" Shy; and Henry Whitford.
In the twenties, Americans tended to be
conservative and uniform in their dress and usually wore
clothing that did not vary much from the generally accepted style. In this respect my family was quite unusual.
Maybe this was because of their artistic nature and
European education, but in any case they all had the
courage to dress as they wanted to. Fortunately they were
talented and exercised good taste.
My father wore smocks in his studio
throughout his life. These Erika hand-embroidered and
decorated with her own designs. My father did not care for
the short American haircut and allowed his hair to cover
his ears. His appearance was definitely that of an artist. I
remember walking down Sixth Avenue with my father and
my uncle, just after my uncle had come to this country. My
uncle was wearing homespun clothing that he had brought
from Sweden. Both had rather long hair, in fact my uncle's
hair was trimmed below his ears. We obviously made
enough of a picture for people to turn around and stare at
us. I did not appreciate this and stared in return. My father
and uncle, however, were totally unperturbed.
My father had a healthy sense of humor (he
liked Wilhelm Busch, the German writer and humorist)
and was a great practical joker— not in any malicious way,
but just for innocent fun. A friend and business associate of
his, Bob Feldman, traveled in the subway with my dad,
and a third person who pretended to have a parrot under
Figure 13
Marion Greenwood, an artist
and former student of Reiss,
was one of the numerous
interesting people and
business associates who
visited his studio.
(Figure #12)
Congo, a Zulu who at times
stayed at 4 Christopher
Street, believed that cutting
his hair would seriously
diminish his masculinity and
so he would burn it off.
(Figure #13)
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
his coat, much to the interest of the other passengers.
Feldman also told of a times in restaurants when one of
them pretended to speak only German, the other only
French, and the third only Hungarian. The waiter of
course couldn't understand what they wanted, and they
had a dramatic time explaining what they were ordering.
In the end they all spoke English and told the waiter that
he really ought to learn a foreign language.
My father enjoyed music, and during his
youth his family often had musical evenings. He played the
flute, his brother Hans played the guitar, and his two sisters sang. He brought the flute to this country, and
although I saw it, I never heard him play. He was too
absorbed in his art work. He also enjoyed jazz and classical
music and loved to dance the foxtrot and the tango. At
parties when others were playing bridge, he would invite
67
WlNQl-D
REl.'V.
Figure 14
For years my father had a cleaning woman
by the name of Steinruck who had come over from
Germany with her husband. Steinruck, who enjoyed having the students underfoot although she complained a lot,
was a good-hearted soul. People took advantage of this,
and played all sorts of practical tricks on her. She had only
one failing, and that was that she liked to sneak a drink.
My father was not a drinker, but he kept a bottle of
whiskey on hand for guests. He noticed that the whiskey
level was sinking lower and lower and realized that the
only person who could be responsible for this was Frau
Steinruck. My father and uncle decided they'd put a stop
to it. They staged a conversation for Frau Steinruck to
overhear, saying that someone had used the bottle to
relieve themselves. Ha! From then on, the liquor level
remained stable.
Hans Reiss, brother of
Winold, helped with many
commissions, particularly the
murals for which he prepared
the canvases and enlarged
the sketches to full size.
(Figure #14)
Figure 15
the young ladies to dance. In the early 1920s my dad organized masquerade balls, which were very popular. My
father was also a great movie fan and particularly liked
westerns, because of the action and the horses and the
western landscapes.
Pioneer photographer,
historian, and artist of the
West, William Henry Jackson
who is credited with helping
to persuade Congress to
create Yellowstone National
Park posed for Reiss.
(Figure #15)
Queen City Heritage
My father had come to the U.S. with the an unforgettable experience, seeing the Indian tepees and
idea of painting American Indians. He thought the Indians wagons surrounding the sun lodge. This always inspired
would be living in the countryside outside the cities, much my father, who could not wait to see the wonderful local
as the European peasants did. He was quite surprised to Indians as well as their guests. We spent much more time
find that most of the Indians were far away in the West. at the Canadian Sun Dance than in Browning. James
Therefore it took some time to raise the funds to travel Willard Schultz, the author of many Indian books, was
there. Except for a brief visit to Browning, Montana in often there, and my father talked with him about his early
1919 my father did not have the opportunity to experience experiences while living with the Indians. Our camp of
the West until 1927 when the Great Northern Railroad three or four tepees housed our Indian guests and providinvited my father to go out to Glacier Park for the summer ed models for my father as well as for his art school. I
and paint the Blackfeet Indians. The Great Northern would pick the Indians up from the reservation with Percy
planned to use the portraits for indirect advertising, to Creighton, our interpreter, and bring them back with their
encourage tourists to use the Great Northern Railroad and pots and pans and costumes and blankets and robes. When
their hotels in Glacier Park. I accompanied him on this my father was painting, there were always a few Indians sitting around watching him, telling stories to each other and
trip, the first of many June to September journeys.
The best opportunity to see the Indians was commenting on the pictures. My father worked best with
9
at the Sun Dance, which was held in Browning, Montana, this constant murmur going on in the background.
or near Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Not only were most of
The Indians enjoyed posing in exchange for
the Blackfeet or Blood present, but Crees, Crows, and pay and rations. Evening Pow-Wows were arranged for the
Flathead, and tribes from other reservations in Alberta and students and visitors, which included participation in the
Montana also joined in the celebration. In Canada the Sun dancing and singing. This was also an opportunity for the
Dance was held ten miles from Cardston, Alberta, the Indians to make a little extra money. Ideal as this was for
nearest community. The location and approaches here the Indians, there was always some individual who would
were strictly controlled by the Canadian mounted police announce that he had to return to the reservation to "do
who permitted only those with a written pass from the the haying." If they had been in camp only a short time
Indian agent to attend. Approaching the celebration was and their pictures were not completed, this was a major
inconvenience. It took some persuasion to have them delay
their departure for a few days. Being a nomadic people
they had to be on the move. Often no sooner had they
returned to their haying but they sent word through others
that they would like to come back.
At this time the Indians had the status of
"wards of the government." There was prohibition on the
reservation, but in spite of this liquor was easily obtainable,
and excessive drinking was a curse. My dad refused to tolerate this and sometimes insisted that certain individuals
return home. This was not a prudish attitude. He could
not stand to see an Indian lose stature and dignity.
Aside from the interesting histories he
assembled, my father also documented the meaning of the
many designs that adorned native Indian costumes. Each
tribe had its own typical designs, and they were very beautiful. Those of the Blackfeet featured stylized rivers and
mountains. With the more eastern Indians, flower designs
indicated the influence of missionaries. My father did not
believe in collecting Indian artifacts or clothing. He maintained that these beautiful artifacts should remain in the
possession of the tribe. This resulted in embarrassing situaFigure 16
On his trips west, Reiss painted many unique characters
including Hans Thompson, a
Bad Lands, South Dakota,
pioneer. (Figure #16)
J<.»$8*
...
^
Figure 17
Figure 18
Reiss enjoyed music and
loved to dance. In the early
1920s he organized
masquerade balls which were
very popular. (Figure #17)
In 1927 Great Northern
Railroad invited my father to
Glacier Park for the summer
to paint Blackfeet Indians.
(Figure #18)
V=.
70
Queen City Heritage
Figure 19
Figure 21
Figure 20
The Indians enjoyed posing
in exchange for pay and
rations. In 1928 Reiss posed
with some of his Blackfeet
friends in Glacier Park. Left to
right: Unknown, Reiss,
Plume, and Turtle.
(Figure #19)
Tribes from reservations in
Alberta, Canada, and
Montana joined the celebration of the Sun Dance.
(Figure #20)
Percy Creighton (Little Dog)
served as interpreter.
(Figure #21)
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
71
tions, because the Indians often wished to give him something as a token of friendship. He would say that he would
take the present next year, but after a couple of years of
this the interpreter would indicate that the giver felt hurt
and insist that my father accept the gift.
One of the many things in life that my father
really appreciated was the automobile. Cars gave him
tremendous pleasure throughout his career. On our first
trips to Montana we traveled by train but when we were
there, we usually rented a car to get around to the Indians.
Around 1930 my father decided it would be much better to
go by automobile. He didn't drive, but my uncle did. My
father began shopping for cars. He looked at all the
options, but of course was interested in a car's appearance
more than anything else, and the car he chose was a
Hupmobile touring car. It was a beauty. We started out
from New York and stopped at all kinds of places — I
think it took us ten days to two weeks to make the trip.
And of course, after Minneapolis and St. Paul the roads
were dirt and usually washboard. My uncle attempted to
teach my father how to drive, but this wasn't so easy. It
took about two years before my father felt he could pass
the driver's test.
Figure 23
For my high school graduation my father
gave me a Ford Cabriolet, a two-seater. We also used this
car for the trips out West during the summers when the art
school in Glacier Park was going on. We had a regular caravan, with other students who took students with them. It
was very sociable. When we got out there, I put a trailer on
the Cabriolet to pick up the Indians on the reservation and
bring them to Many Glacier, where we had our camp.
After several years my dad traded in the
Hupmobile for his dream car, a Cadillac roadster. We used
to drive out in the country on weekends in it. One summer
we had no money, and we wondered how we'd get out
West. My uncle was charged with talking to students and
getting prepaid tuition which paid for the gas and the
accommodations on the way out. However, when we got
out to Glacier Park, our funds were so low that my dad put
the Cadillac up on chocks in a garage. The excuse he used
was that he wouldn't use such a beautiful car on the horrible roads. When we got back to New York that fall, things
hadn't improved, so he gave me the job of selling it. I
went to three or four places, and the most I could get was
$600 for that gorgeous car. I remember how sad he felt
Figure 22
Reiss documented the meaning of many designs that
adorned native Indian
costumes. His painting of
Yellow Mink showed a
sample of a typical Blackfoot
design. (Figure #22)
Around 1933 he painted
Spider. (Figure #23)
72
Figure 24
when he had to say, "Yes, sell it...." After that, as soon as
he could afford a car again, he bought a Ford — and he
stuck to Fords (and enjoyed station wagons and convertibles) for the rest of his life.
The art school in Glacier National Park was
popular with my dad's students. Among the better-known
students were Marion Greenwood, Aaron Douglas, Alan
Crane, and Ludwig Bemelmans. Bemelmans enrolled in
the school for a month or two for a few years. My father
told him that his style really should not be spoiled by too
much instruction. However, he came back each year, really
because he had a sharp eye for the ladies, and there were a
number of attractive girls in the school. We used to say,
"Well, here comes Bemelmans, looking for another girl!"
He would come for a few weeks, meet somebody he liked,
and then not show up again until the next year. This was
an annual performance for several years and afforded us all
some good laughs.
His dream car was a Cadillac
roadster which he drove out
in the country on weekends.
(Figure #24)
Queen City Heritage
My father felt that everybody had some sort
of artistic talent — it just had to be brought out and developed in different ways. You Can Design, a book he wrote
in collaboration with Albert Schweizer, stressed this point.
He did not try to influence the students to paint exactly as
he did but tried to encourage them to develop their own
style. He encouraged young artists and gave scholarships
to those who could not pay any tuition, including Aaron
Douglas, a Black painter, and Acee Blue Eagle, an Indian
painter.
One of my father's best friends was Carl
Link, a German, Munich-trained artist who had studied life
drawing, graphics, interior design, and portraiture. On the
last three trips West, he accompanied my father and painted some Indian portraits. He was particularly gifted in
making quick, unstudied sketches of people in the subways, restaurants, and the Horn and Hardart automats. He
did this in a way not to reveal what he was doing although
some individuals became a little annoyed and wondered
why they were being so frequently observed.10
Among my dad's other friends was an artist
who often helped on his murals. He was saving his money
to return to Germany. My father tried to dissuade him,
saying that after living here, life in Germany would seem
very restricted. He went anyway and after a few years wrote
back saying how sorry he was not to have followed my
father's advice. To me this shows how much my father had
responded to and appreciated the freedom he found in
America.
In 1927 at the end of the first summer in
Glacier Park, my father brought back about fifty pictures of
Indians he had painted, and Great Northern bought the
whole collection. This set him up for awhile financially,
which was fortunate, because he soon received a rude
shock. The City of New York notified my father that it was
going to dispossess him of 4 Christopher Street, because
the building was needed as a first aid center for the
Independent Subway, which was about to be built. This
was a catastrophe. He had the art school, and commissions
for interior designing and murals, and he also needed a
place for his own painting. He had to have a large space.
After searching for many months hefinallyfound an empty
Butler Grocery warehouse at 108 West 16th Street. This
raw space, 50 feet by 100 feet, had to be completely renovated to meet his needs which included adding skylights,
partitions, toilet facilities, electricity, and heating. The
expense was enormous. Fortunately he had just received
the payment from Great Northern, all of which he invested
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
in the renovation. He insisted on a ten-year lease because
he was investing so much money into the building. Then
came the 1929 crash after which few jobs came in. For the
next ten years, the building drained all his hard-earned
income. He fell behind in his rent payments, so at the end
of the ten years he had to agree to rent the facility for
another five years, to get the landlord to reduce the debt.
At the new studio, at 108 W. 16th Street
between Sixth and Seventh avenues, he hired a pianist to
play for his art school once or twice a week. The students
did imaginative drawing to the music, and it proved a very
popular innovation.
Just after moving into the W. 16th Street studio my father received the commission to do the murals
for the new Cincinnati Union Terminal. This was an
artist's dream — an opportunity to do something on a
large scale, for a monumental building. The assignment
included two giant murals for the rotunda, each 22 feet
high by 110 feet long, plus fourteen smaller industrial
murals depicting the major industries of Cincinnati. The
original agreement called for the murals to be painted on
canvas, which would be stretched on the walls, but my
father felt that the situation called for the use of mosaics
which would be considerably more expensive than canvas.
So, he talked to the owners and said he would halve his fee
if they would apply this money to the project. He suggested using mosaics only for the main figures in the murals
and doing the backgrounds in stucco, which was a very
innovative idea. All the figures (about sixty in all) — steel
workers, laundry machine workers, chemical workers, railroad workers — were drawn from life, with the models
wearing the appropriate clothing, which my father brought
back from Cincinnati. This was a great opportunity for him
to include any of his friends who happened to be around
the studio at this time. I was there a lot, and ended up posing for four or five of the figures. The preliminary sketches
were done with conte crayon on 30 by 22-inch sheets of
paper. These were enlarged to life size in oil on canvas.
The life-sized figures were in turn doubled in size by the
Ravenna Mosaic Company. My father painted the figures
in a simplified technique using distinct color areas to
73
Figure 26
enable the mosaic workers to copy and execute them properly. The mosaic specialists normally worked from a standard drawing or painting and blocked in their own interpretation of the color areas and relationships. Although the
way my father did it involved considerably more work for
him, it ensured that his artistic design would remain intact
and accurate.
Figure 25
His friend and fellow German
artist devoted to Indian
portraiture, Carl Link, drew a
portrait of Reiss around 1943.
(Figure #25)
During the 1930s, Reiss's
studio was a gathering place
for artists, dancers, and
musicians. He painted
portraits, many representing
the actresses and models
who frequented his studio.
(Figure #26)
74
Queen City Heritage
When the station was completed, and the
mosaics were about to be applied to the walls, my father
received another shock. The terminal officials, facing a
strike by the railroad workers, feared that the murals would
look too good and imply that the railroad was overly prosperous. They were afraid that the unions would demand
settlements beyond what they could afford. The situation
was frustrating and difficult. The mosaics were all ready to
be installed but nothing could be done. All they could do
was wait. Fortunately, an agreement was finally reached
and the murals were installed.
Designing and executing the Cincinnati
Terminal murals took my father about two years. All the
figures were drawn from life, even the pictures of the terminal officials were actually life portraits. Unfortunately
the description of these murals in some of the existing literature is incorrect. One can read that these murals were
painted from photographs of local people and places, but
photographs were only used for the technical backgrounds
of the machines.11
ed. The legs of one figure alone were about eight feet
long, which gives an indication of the size of the figures.
Otto Baumgarten, the Viennese restaurateur
and long time friend, was largely responsible for many of
the interiors that my father executed. The Crillon, a big
success for many years at 15 East 48th Street, was the first
restaurant he opened. It was the first modern — really
modern — restaurant in New York City, thanks to the
decor that my father designed in 1919. In fact, when the
owner of the building saw the decor being installed, he
thought it was outrageous and threatened to cancel the
lease. However, when the project was finished, he became
one of my father's greatest supporters. Not only was Otto
Baumgarten responsible for getting commissions for my
dad, he acted as his business manager for many projects.
In the course of his career my dad designed
many modern interiors, including the layout, murals, pictures, menus, matchboxes, furniture, rugs, and advertising
graphics. Otto Baumgarten introduced my father to Henry
Lustig, owner of the Longchamps restaurant chain. My
Figure 27
Figure 28
For the 1939 New York World's Fair, my
father received a sizeable commission, to create a 30-40 feet
high and 100 feet long mural for the facade of the Theater
and Concert building. He designed a motif which was executed in aluminum and bronze by Fechner, a very talented
metal worker (and incidentally a World War I German
fighter pilot). It made a striking appearance when complet-
father eventually designed ten Longchamps restaurants in
New York City — each in a different motif. The most successful was probably the one at 59th Street and Madison
Avenue, which was done on an American Indian theme
and in which he used a number of his Indian portraits. He
used another Indian motif for the Longchamps restaurant
in Washington, D.C., at F and 14th streets, incorporating
Preliminary sketches for his
mural figures, such as the
Railroad Worker (Figure # 27)
and The Pioneer (Figure #28)
were done with conte crayon
on 30 by 22 inch sheets of
water color paper.
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
numerous Indian portraits, some very effective murals,
interior design, and graphics. He later executed a colonial
design for the Philadelphia Longchamps.12
As an interior designer my father naturally
collaborated with many architects. In the twenties and thirties architects tended to be quite conventional and traditional and had little training in or experience with color.
Many appreciated my father's innovative talent as well as
his bold use of color and were therefore pleased to work
with him.
Probably a reason for his success in interior
design was that his specifications regarding upholstery, curtain material, floor coverings, table tops, menus, match
boxes, and even advertising were all coordinated to complement the murals and pictures. Each picture frame,
molding, shape, and color enhanced the painting. The
frames were custom made to his specifications by Sam
Friedman on East Ninth Street. I often had to go to
Friedman's shop and inquire about the status of the latest
order, which had not been delivered. With a stern look,
Mr. Friedman would say, "No frames until the last bill is
paid." I then truthfully answered, "We have to sell the picture to get the money to pay you." After a little coaxing,
he would frown, shake his head, and agree to one more
time.
In 1931 my father conceived a project to preserve a record of the American Indian for posterity. It envisioned a collection of 300 portraits, which would cover
Indian reservations in eleven different states. The plan was
to interest subscribers in purchasing certificates of ownership. For the investment, the subscriber would receive a
portrait. My father hoped to raise enough money to spend
two years traveling around the country painting these portraits. He wrote many letters to people he believed would
be interested. Unfortunately, all the answers were negative,
so the project never got off the ground. This deeply discouraged him — he had hoped to create a monument to
the American Indian. He knew that the older Indians were
dying off and that soon there would be no Indian customs
or costumes left to represent the many existing tribes.
Figure 29
He designed an aluminum
and bronze mural for the
Theater and Concert building
at the 1939 New York World's
Fair. (Figure #29)
75
76
Queen City Heritage
As mentioned, my father loved the automo- finished preliminary scale drawing in line with what he had
bile and was an inveterate weekend driver up to the coun- previously shown to the vice-president. When they entered
try, where he would draw barns and landscapes and visit the studio you could tell that something was wrong. The
friends. During the middle 1930s he traveled a great deal in vice-president was brusque, looked at the drawing, said,
Connecticut and New York and became interested in buy- "No, that won't do," and left with the architect. We
ing a farm. He told the real estate agent that he wanted couldn't understand what was going on, but a few minutes
acreage on a dirt road, the buildings set back from the later the architect called and said, "You won't believe what
road, with no utility poles and wires in the immediate happened — somebody told Mr. Allen that you were a
vicinity of the house. He got a call from an agent in friend of Adolf Hitler and had gone to school with him in
Columbia County, about a hundred miles upstate in New Austria." Well, of course my dad said that was impossible,
York, who said he had just the house for him. The next since he'd never been to Austria, there was considerable
weekend we drove up, picked up the agent at Copake, and difference in their ages, and he had never met Hitler — in
negotiated fifteen miles over dirt roads. We eventually fact he was very much opposed to his racial prejudices, his
arrived at an old broken-down farmhouse, and a barn in political views, and his actions.
still less good condition, on 130 acres. This was in 1938,
Fortunately my dad had a signed contract so
the depths of the Depression, and the property had been that a settlement was negotiated. To minimize the disapon the market for over two years.
pointment we all felt in seeing our winter's work vanish, he
My father liked the property and said he'd suggested using some of the settlement money as a down
be back next weekend to look at it again. When we drove payment on the farm.
up the next weekend, we took a different road and within
The purchase of the farm proved to be his
less than a mile of the house, we came upon a factory best investment, not only from the standpoint of inflation
belching smoke and a village. My father said, "That fellow, but because it was a wonderful place to visit and within
he certainly fooled me — I'm not going to take a property easy reach of New York. The old farmhouse was used more
so close to anything like this." But he went back and took or less as a camp in the first years, and my dad enjoyed
one more walk on the place. It was so beautiful that he working on it tremendously. He also kept his horse there.
said, "Oh well, let's buy it anyway."
Around 1940 my father moved his studio
The problem again was money. He had from 108 W. 16th Street to Little West 12th Street. He was
signed an agreement to do some murals for National Cash devoting his time increasingly to interior decoration and
Register in their new showroom in Rockefeller Center. I was particularly busy with the Longchamps restaurant
vividly remember the day when the architect came with the chain. The art school was no longer flourishing so my
vice-president of National Cash Register to look at the father gave it up, and Uncle Hans decided to move west.
drawings. We were all anticipation. My father had made a My father had finally paid off the back rent on 108 W. 16th
Figure 30
Reiss designed modern
interiors including the layout,
murals (Figure #30), pictures,
menus, match boxes,
furniture, rugs, and
advertising graphics.
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
Street, but without the art school the building was a financial drain. The considerably smaller new studio was found
through an associate at New York University. The farm
was particularly advantageous because paintings, and other
miscellaneous material that he had in the city, could now
be stored there.13
At the end of World War II, when I returned
from overseas, my dad invited my wife and me to take a
trip out west. We traveled in his station wagon, taking several months. We had a wonderful time, stopping in national parks and looking at a lot of wild and incredible scenery.
We stopped at Indian reservations and visited with our old
friends who were still living on the Blackfoot Reservation.
We went out to Lake Tahoe where my uncle
had built himself a studio and home and visited him. On a
trip through Carson City, Nevada, my uncle showed us an
old stone Chinese bank, which had been built during the
gold rush days. At the moment it was vacant, and my uncle
said he had tried numerous times to buy this property from
the Chinese owner, who lived in San Francisco, but had
not been successful. Later, when we got to San Francisco,
we saw the owner and spoke to him about the possibility
of purchasing this property. He seemed quite willing, and
so my father negotiated with him to buy it. Over the next
few years my uncle rebuilt it, making alterations and additions to turn it into a studio and residence for my dad. He
77
Figure 31
As usual my father was warmly welcomed and enjoyed talking over old times. He was very sorry to see that the conditions of the Indians had not improved since the last time
he had been out west and dismayed to find that many of
the old people had died. This was the last time he visited
the Blackfoot Reservation.
In 1938 Reiss purchased a
farm in Columbia County,
New York. (Figure #31)
had intended to retire there, but unfortunately he had a
stroke before that was possible. He never did see it completed.14
Although he had never been sick a day in his
life, at sixty-five he suffered a massive stroke which ended
his career. He could no longer talk, and his right side was
78
Queen City Heritage
paralyzed. He did do some line drawings with his left
hand, but other than that he could do nothing. Once
shortly after the end of World War II, I had mentioned to
my father, who was busy with interior design commissions,
that he could now pick his jobs and turn to some of the
painting he really enjoyed. He looked at me and said, "Yes,
but there is so little time!" Unfortunately, he was right.
Fortunately the 1960s and 1970s and especially the 1980s saw a renewed interest in the work of Winold
Reiss. Several museums exhibited and acquired portraits
for their collections.16 Art connoisseurs arranged comprehensive exhibitions of all aspects of his work. In 1989 an
article entitled "Rediscovering Winold Reiss," written by
John Heminway, appeared in the Smithsonian Magazine
Figure 32
Throughout this period Mildred Kaufmann,
his secretary who had worked for my dad for a number of
years, selflessly took care of him, engaging people to come
in for periods of the day. Mildred took care of him until
the very end, and became somewhat possessive in doing so.
I suggested moving him upstate to Columbia County, to a
nursing home near the farm, where I was now living. I
thought this would be better than the New York City environment, but she wouldn't hear of it.15 My father lingered
for two years, and Mildred did all she could to relieve his
suffering.
When my father died, he left a mass of work,
which I transported to the farm and stored. During his
lifetime he had seldom been represented by an art dealer,
with the result that his pictures were really in "dead" storage. Since his death my wife Renate, who has been instrumental in these efforts, and I have attempted to preserve
the legacy of his artistic accomplishments.
After his father's death, Tjark
Reiss transported his paintings and work to the farm.
The 1960s and 1970s saw a
renewed interest in Winold
Reiss and today his work is
recognized and preserved in
museums, galleries, and
private collections.
(Figure #32)
and brought him into the consciousness of a wide public.
Winold Reiss is no longer forgotten.
1. My father, Fritz Wilhelm Winold Reiss, and my mother, Henriette
Anna Luthy, were married on September 7, 1912, in Munich. At the
time of his marriage, my father was almost 26 years old: he was born
September 16,1886, in Karlsruhe.
2. The allied propaganda of this era was very effective. The doctor's
hate must have been very strong to make him so unconscious of what
he was pouring into a small boy. I vividly remember the night his
house burned down as one of the great joys of my life.
3. My mother was born of Swiss parents. My grandfather was working in the Corn Exchanges in Liverpool, England, at the time, and
my mother spent her childhood there. They returned to Switzerland
when she was eleven or twelve.
4. My father did not escape military service in Germany, however, he
completed his obligatory one year of active duty at a military training
ground near Lake Constance, from October 1,1909, to September 30,
1910. He finished this stint with a "sehr gut" on his record, and qualified as an officer candidate. When the German army was mobilized
for World War I, he was already in the United States. He did report
Summer/Fall 1993
My Father Winold Reiss
to the German consulate in New York, as he was supposed to, but
the Consul told him, "You'll never make it— you'll end up spending
the war in a British prisoner of war camp. Stay right here and forget
about it," which is what he happily did. By the time World War II
broke out, he was an American citizen.
5. That my father did indeed include the state of Morelos in his travels was corroborated by Thomas Walsh, an English professor at
Georgetown University who conducted research on Katherine Anne
Porter's papers; he reported seeing reproductions of two scenes that
Winold Reiss painted in Cuernavaca.
6. The divorce decree became final on April 24,1923.
7. I believe my father originally met Isadora Duncan and her dance
group through Otto Baumgarten at the Crillon Restaurant. He
painted portraits of all the dancers, which are now in the possession
of the Lincoln Center Library.
8. Only recently did I discover something that helps explain why my
father never married Erika. The fine print on my parents' divorce
decree states that, although my mother was free to remarry, my
father, as "defendant," would only be allowed to marry with special
court permission. Such a court case would doubtless have involved
publicity, which my father would not have wanted to subject Erika
to.
9. The camp was situated near St. Mary's Lake, and they usually built
a sweat lodge that would accommodate three or four. After heating
stones in the fire they carried them into the lodge, closed it up tight,
and using pine branches dipped in water to beat the hot stones, produced the steam for the sauna. The entire activity was accompanied
by singing and the recitation of prayers, as this was a sacred ceremony. All at once they would burst from the lodge, run to the lake, and
plunge into the icy water.
10. Since he and my father were both bachelors, there were many
opportunities to be together. I have a profile of my father that Carl
sketched on one of the trips out west. My friend, artist Ned Jacob,
found it in a shop and bought it as a gift for me.
11. The Michael Lowe Gallery in Cincinnati has exhibited the original
sketches and oil paintings for those murals. It is unfortunate that the
individuals who later researched the murals have given an entirely
false impression about them. This may be the result of a photographer's wishful thinking in overemphasizing the importance of photography in the creation of the murals.
12. Unfortunately, as a result of civil-rights action, the Washington
restaurant was later closed. Blacks rightfully insisted on being served,
with the result that White patronage plummeted. An ironic twist,
since my father had been so racially unprejudiced: in this case the
racial tensions of the day were responsible for closing access to one of
the most successful designs of his career.
13. The farm also provided an environment for enjoyable experiences
and opportunities for more intimate contacts between my father and
my family. This was particularly important for my son, who was quite
young when my father died. They enjoyed each other's company,
and my dad would often draw pictures for or with him. To this day,
my son Peter reminisces over experiences they shared. He tells of the
time they were drawing together and my father said, "There is something very important that I must tell you, Peter—never let jealousy be
a part of your character."
14. Later on the State of Nevada condemned the property, razed the
beautiful building, and built an annex office building. Although I was
very reluctant to sell the building, my lawyer said it would be impossible to fight the state and that ultimately we would lose the property. This was discouraging, because my father had intended to make a
museum in the building and give it to the State of Nevada.
15. In his work, my dad naturally needed a secretary. He had several
over the years, but the one I remember and knew the best and for the
longest time was Mildred Kaufmann. She was a competent, and also
very faithful, person, taking care of the studio and tending to business matters when we were out west in the summer. After his stroke
she had the power of attorney, and there wasn't much I could do
without going to court, and I did not think this was a good idea.
16. Significant research has also been done by Dr. Fred Brauen in his
publication, Winold Reiss: Color and Design in New American Art,
(New York 1980, revised 1991). Paul Razcka was instrumetnal in the
1986 Winold Reiss Centennial exhibition at the C M . Russell
Museum in Great Falls, MT. George Schriever introduced me to
Robert Kashey of the Shepherd Gallery in New York City, whose
1986 and later shows were extremely important. George also introduced me to James Cox (at that time with the Grand Central Gallery
in New York City), who has since opened a gallery of that name in
Woodstock, N.Y. W.E. Channing in Santa Fe, NM also exhibits and
represents Reiss, as does the Michael Lowe Gallery in Cincinnati,
OH. As a result of the first Shepherd show, Ford Peatross, Curator of
Architectural Design at the Library of Congress, became aware of
Winold Reiss and has assembled a large collection of his interior
designs at the Library of Congress. In 1989, at the invitation of Dr.
Alan Fern, director of the National Portrait Gallery at the
Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., Dr. Jeffrey Stewart
guest curated an extensive show there and wrote the accompanying
catalog and checklist. SITES (Smithsonian Institution Traveling
Exhibition Service) is currently touring a traveling version of this
exhibition.
79
Illustrations
Figure #1. Henriette Anna Liithy. 1912. pastel on paper, Mr. and
Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #2. Winold Reiss Summer School on St. Mary's Lake, Glacier
Park, Montana, ca. 1934. Photo by W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #3. Design Advertisement for Winold Reiss Summer School,
1919. ink on board. Courtesy Shepherd Gallery, New York, New
York.
Figure #4. Woodstock Landscape, oil on canvas, Mr. and Mrs. W.
Tjark Reiss. Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #5. Winold Reiss Crafts & Art Studio, New York City,
September 1914. Winold Reiss, standing, second from left; Aaron
Douglas, standing middle, Ilonka Karasz, seated lower right. Photo
courtesy W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #6. Winold Reiss. Inside Cover of M.A.C. Swedish Art.
Number, Vol. 1 No. 6, 1916.
Figure #7. Cuernavaca, Pittsburgh Sun Telegraph color gravure page
of June 1, 1930. Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #8. Winold Reiss. Ruby and Marie, St. Helena, South
Carolina, pastel on board, 1927. Courtesy W.E. Channing & Co.,
Santa Fe, New Mexico. Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #9. Winold Reiss. Alain Locke, 1925. pastel on board, Private
Collection.
80
Queen City Heritage
Figure #10. Winold Reiss. The Prayer: Black Forest, 1922. colored
pencil on paper, Renate Reiss. Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #28. Winold Reiss. conte crayon study of pioneer for
Cincinnati Union Terminal murals. Courtesy The MIT List Visual
Arts Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Figure #11. Winold Reiss. Erika Lohman in Black Dress, ca. 1938.
pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael Fredericks
Photographer.
Figure #12. Winold Reiss. Marion Greenwood, 1931. pastel and tempera on board, Courtesy James Cox Gallery, Woodstock, New York.
Figure #13. Winold Reiss. Congo, ca. 1934. pastel on black paper,
Private Collection.
Figure #14. Winold Reiss. Hans Reiss, ca. 1929. pastel on paper, Mr.
and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #15. Jackson, William Henry, 1843- 1942, Photographer,
Winold Reiss, pastel on board, 130.2 x 62.8 cm. (51 1/4 x 24 3/4 in.),
1940 NPG.90.47, National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution,
Gift of Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #29. Installation of Bronze and Aluminum Metal Mural by
Winold Reiss, at the Theater and Concert Hall at the New York
World's Fair, 1939. Photo by W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #30. Winold Reiss. design for restaurant mural; gouache on
paper. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael Fredericks
Photographer.
Figure #31. Winold Reiss Farm in Columbia County, New York,
when purchased in 1938. Photo by W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #32. The Winold Reiss Farm 1989: Tjark Reiss in "The Barn,"
surrounded by Winold Reiss paintings. Photo by Mark Ferri.
Figure #33. Winold Reiss with his horse Larry, ca. 1940. Photo by W.
Tjark Reiss.
Figure #16. Winold Reiss. Hans Thompson Bad Lands, South Dakota
pioneer, pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael
Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #17. Winold Reiss Art School, Prismatic Ball of the Society of
Independent Artists held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, March 3,
1921. Photo by Nicholas Muray, courtesy of W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #18. Winold Reiss painting Chief Shot Both Sides. Tjark Reiss,
second from the left; Falling Over the Bank, 4th from left; Percy
Creighton, far right. Photo by Great Northern Railroad, 1928, courtesy of W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #19. Winold Reiss with Blackfeet friends in Glacier Park, 1928.
Left to right: Unknown. Winold Reiss, Plume, and Turtle. Photo by
Tjark Reiss.
Figure #20. Sun Dance Camp, Blood Indian Reservation, Alberta,
Canada, ca. 1930. Photo by W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #21. Winold Reiss. Percy Creighton (Little Dog) ca. 1933. pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #22. Winold Reiss. Yellow Mink, ca. 1930. a sample of typical
Blackfoot design, pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure 33
Figure #23. Winold Reiss painting Spider, ca. 1933. Photo by W.
Tjark Reiss.
Figure #24. Winold Reiss at the wheel of his Cadillac roadster. Photo
by W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #25. Carl Link. Portrait of Winold Reiss, ca. 1943. pencil on
paper. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Figure #26. Winold Reiss. Thirties Chic, portrait of a woman on gold
background, mixed media on board. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.
Michael Fredericks Photographer.
Figure #27. Winold Reiss. conte crayon study of railroad worker for
Cincinnati Union Terminal murals. Courtesy The MIT List Visual
Arts Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Reiss loved to horseback ride
and he kept his horse, Larry,
at the farm. (Figure #33)