OGDEN PLEISSNER: - Atlantic Salmon Federation

P R O F I L E
HOME
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By Martin Silverstone
OGDEN PLEISSNER:
T H E S P O R T I N G G R A N D T O U R , AT T H E
A M E R I C A N M U S E U M O F F LY F I S H I N G.
H
E WAS A FIXTURE HERE; OGDEN WAS, DEFINITELY AT THE
garden shop where the staff had to remind him to leave his pipe
outside. At the bridge over the old mill pond in the middle of town
and maybe even at Murphy’s Donut Shop, no longer owned by
Murphy but still making their own donuts the old fashioned way.
Ogden Pleissner, fly fisher, artist, war correspondent, uncle, husband
and gardener, lived here, as Jessie Winchester sings, “with the decent folk
of Old Vermont.” And it’s here in the tree-filled southern Vermont town of
Manchester that the American Museum of Fly Fishing sprang up in 1968.
Elegant, yet understated, the AMFF resides in an old family home.
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Now, in an elegant old family home across from a
majestic maple grove, these two prominent, perhaps
a bit overlooked, local doyens have come together.
It’s a meeting that is bringing a well-deserved, fresh
appreciation to both the man and the museum.
Up the walkway, over memorial stones beneath
the largest Austrian pine in the state, and through the
home’s former side door, is an entrance to Ogden
Pleissner, The Sporting Grand Tour. Brilliantly
designed by Yoshi Akiyama, Pleissner’s play with light
and mood are beautifully set off on a black background.
Ogden died 25 years ago; he was in London and
collapsed walking through Piccadilly Circus on his way
to the Tate Gallery. Samuel Webb Jr. was out grouse
hunting that day and phoned his dad to tell him what
a great outing it was. Sam Sr. gave him the bad news.
Sam Webb Jr.’s father and Ogden were the best of
friends. They met in boot camp during World War II
and it is felt by many that Webb was the one who convinced Pleissner to paint more angling and shooting
scenes. If there are threads that connect the memories
of those who I spoke to about Ogden, it’s that behind
every Pleissner painting is a story, and that in that
story, Ogden’s humour and human decency always
take a central role.
The exhibit itself is not without its share of
humour and drama. Shortly after finalizing the
design, and only weeks before the exhibit opened,
museum staff were studying the handwritten journal
of Mary Pleissner, Ogden’s first wife. In her careful
handwriting she describes the couple returning from
an exhibit of his work in New York when the artist’s
point was made clear: he disapproved of the dark
background used to display his paintings.
It is difficult to stand among this collection of
Ogden’s sporting works, the first time such a collection has been brought together, and believe he would
disapprove. Clear panels shadowed with photographs of
the painted scenes (courtesy of Peter Corbin) allow the
viewer to imagine the paintings materializing on canvas.
Stan Bogdan recalls being in camp with Pleissner.
“He had priority over me,” the 90 year-old recalls.
“When he arrived I was relegated to the Guide’s
cabin.” Yet, Bogdan would have it no other way,
lovingly remembering the pleasure it was to meet
up with the painter at day’s end. Once up at the
Bennington camp on the lower Restigouche, Pleissner
was commissioned to paint the view from an island.
He was dropped off there. “At happy hour, it didn’t
take long to notice, Ogden wasn’t around,” Bogdan
THE RAPID
OUT FISHING
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laughs. Guides rushed to pick him up on the island
and he wasn’t all too happy to have been left to feed
the flies all afternoon. Perhaps it’s my overactive
imagination, but when I look at the painting, “The
Lower Restigouche,” it seems markedly different from
his other works, being neither a sporting scene or
a scenic, but a mixture of both—as if the experience
of being temporarily abandoned had somehow
affected him.
Still, on an island being devoured by black flies
or wandering the back alleys of Brooklyn, Pleissner
found beauty and pleasure in his immediate surroundings. “It’s hard to say whether I have a favourite
place to paint. There are many fascinating places
in Europe and there’s so much right here in this
country . . . Whether it’s Vermont, Normandy, or
Paris, it doesn’t make that much difference, really.”
I found this quote, taken from a 1983 interview,
at the entrance to the permanent Pleissner collection
at the Shelburne Museum. If you go to check out
the marvellous American Museum of Fly Fishing
in Manchester, and you should (the exhibit continues
to October 31), it would be a crime to not make
the pleasant 90 minute-drive up scenic route 7 to
Shelburne. Here, among the war paintings and
1940s Life magazines with sketches by then correspondent Pleissner, you get a real feeling for the
artist’s strong character.
“
IT’S HARD TO SAY WHETHER
I HAVE A FAVOURITE PLACE TO
PAINT. THERE ARE MANY FASCINATING PLACES IN EUROPE AND
THERE’S SO MUCH RIGHT HERE IN
THIS COUNTRY . . . WHETHER IT’S
VERMONT, NORMANDY, OR PARIS,
IT DOESN’T MAKE THAT MUCH
DIFFERENCE, REALLY.
”
Portrait of the artist: At the American Museum
of Fly Fishing, Pleissner can be found at his
easel. Upstairs from the exhibit hall is the
museum’s exceptional fly-fishing library.
UPPER CAMP POOL, GRAND CASCAPEDIA
LEAPING SALMON
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His commanding officers probably expected more
emphasis on the glory of battle and the role of
American troops therein when they sent the young
artist into the field to observe and paint a country at
war. Ogden’s World War II paintings, however, focus
on the very unsung heroes—mechanics and assembly
line workers in the factories servicing the war effort.
And even on the battlefield Ogden depicts the mindlessness of taking up arms against a foe. One painting
shows a burial detail, another a bombed graveyard,
one more of the chaotic scene and stunned look of
young men in the midst of a crucial moment at St. Lo,
seem to be his own way of saying, “Stop the madness!”
Back in Manchester, I walk into the last and largest
section of the Pleissner exhibit: Atlantic salmon
angling paintings. “All I know about, all I am interested in is painting,” Pleissner told biographer Peter
Bergh in 1983 (The Art of Ogden Pleissner, 1984). Not
to cast doubt on the veracity of these words in any
way, but we do know that this is not entirely accurate.
B L U E B O AT O N T H E S T E A N N E
Pleissner knew plenty about, and certainly was very
interested, in fly-fishing for Atlantic salmon. “He was a
beautiful caster,” Sam Webb told me. And these scenes,
more than any of his other paintings, seem to sum up
the joy Pleissner squeezed from his art. It’s happiness
he seemed reluctant to charge the true value for, telling
friends he saw no need for more money than he needed
to enjoy his simple lifestyle.
There are those who feel Pleissner has not yet
received the recognition he deserves. Perhaps the great
art critics and institutions of the world have not given
him his due. But for those who knew his art, you don’t
so much as own a Pleissner painting, as love it. Wilfred
Carter was a young biologist up in the Gaspé, when
Pleissner did some of his greatest work. “I never met
him, but I knew he was around,” Carter told me. June
Baker was an elderly lady who lived near Gaspé. She
cherished her print of “Blue Boat on the Ste-Anne.”
Baker left her home every winter. Of all the possessions in her home, she couldn’t stand the thought of
something happening to her Pleissner print while
she was gone.
“Year in and year out, for six months, she left that
print with me,” Carter says. “Basically I was the Blue
Boat babysitter.”
For some, fame and recognition are of paramount
importance, but appreciation like that felt by a June
Baker, and by many other Pleissner fans, is hard won.
With this exhibit, his most loved fly-fishing and sporting
works have come to the American Museum of Fly
Fishing. Here, friends, both new and old, as well as
family, can feel the beauty and the joy Ogden found
in the outdoors. In some ways, it is as close to coming
home as anyone could hope for.
The American Museum of Fly Fishing (Route 7a South,
Manchester VT) is open daily from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The
Shelburne Museum is on route 7 in Shelburne, Vermont.
Martin Silverstone is the Editor of ASJ.
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