Duke Beardsley Paints our World

Given where science has gone recently, there’s no doubt a clear and incontrovertible way to explain in neurological terms the kind of intelligence that fired the work of Cassatt, Van Gogh, Diebenkorn, Warhol. But to anyone watching internationally acclaimed contemporary realist Duke Beardsley at the easel during his week on our campus as an Anacapa Visiting Artist, scientific explanations would have fallen flat on their faces.

Nothing fully explains his artwork. Except maybe a word: extraordinary.

That it links thematically and philosophically with Thacher’s roots is a happy intersection first recognized by Duke’s college roommate, William Okin (mathematics teacher and riding instructor). “When I caught on to the quality of folks that the Anacapa program was bringing to the School as adjunct faculty, I knew we had to get Duke out here,” William said.

A fifth- or sixth-generation Coloradan—cattlemen until a few decades back—Duke “grew up a city kid in Denver” but spent weekends, summers, and school vacations on his family’s ranch not far away. He loved the freedom, the animals (especially the horses)—and the contemplative possibilities offered by the big sky, the broad meadows, the stolid mountains. Duke now gathers his material from all over the west, from Canada to Mexico, but he’s partial to the time he spends on big ranches—in Nebraska, Montana, and Wyoming—photographing branding, roping, and family scenes as material to take back to his studio. Not surprisingly, his “favorite perspective is through the eyes or between the ears of a horse”—a vantage point he takes full advantage of whenever he can and one he brings to vibrant life in his paintings.

And on his very first day at Thacher, that’s precisely what Duke did—got on a horse and spent the morning out watching cowboy races (Cam Schryver’s take on the Extreme Cowboy Race of which he was national champion last year), camp drafting, and rescue race practice. Same on Wednesday practice gymkhana.

In between, Duke generously spent time with both young students new to studio art and some of Thacher’s Advanced Placement artists. He met with students one-on-one, offering advice, gently critiquing. He worked early and late in the art room and in the Commons, demonstrating the intensity and speed at which his particular creative, expressive juices flow. In the space of an afternoon, he created a portrait of Cam and Sticks, as admirers watched the piece in amazement. (In an act of exceptional generosity, Duke gifted the painting to the School; it’s now hanging in The Thacher Room.)

“My paintings,” Duke said at one point, speaking of his plein air landscapes, “aren’t about a formal representation, but about a sense of belonging somewhere, a feeling like you’re home.”

We do; we are. But we know it even better now that Duke’s been among us.