my father winold reiss -- recollections by tjark...

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My Father Winold Reiss —Recollections byTjark Reiss

Queen City Heritage

W. Tjark Reiss

To look back on the years spent with myfather — from my earliest memories of him until his deathin 1953 — is to remember some of the greatest experiencesof my life. There's a richness and a glow to these years thatoutshines anything since, and I think it's not just the rosi-ness of memory but comes from the vividness and strengthand warmth of the person my father was. He was a greatand talented man to be associated with, whether as father,friend, teacher, or colleague. A strong memory of him isfrom early childhood, when he, my mother, and I wereliving at 4 Christopher Street in New York City. I remem-ber snuggling in bed with my parents in the morning,then frolicking around on the bed, feeling utterly secureand happy.1

Figure 1

My father had a tremendous sense ofhumor, 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 thatimpressed me, particularly as I grew up, was his total lackof racial prejudice. He enjoyed people, and he tried toexperience humanity in all its diversity. This love andrespect that he carried for the rich variations on thehuman theme is seen in his portraits. The many racial andnational types that he painted express an underlying digni-ty and humanity. He saw not only what race his subjectswere but also wanted to know their ethnic backgroundsand to have a sense for how it had affected them.

He was the first artist to devote much atten-tion to painting portraits of Blacks. He would go up toHarlem, and to the Cotton Club, and become completelyimmersed in Black culture. He loved the music that heheard there. He felt that Blacks — unlike whites — couldwear almost any bright color and handle it well because ofthe strong contrast offered by their skin color.

He particularly liked bright colors, especiallyultramarine blue and English vermillion red. Except in hiswoodcuts and pastel drawings of people with black hair hedid not know the color black. He was quite adamantabout this, and knew that in reality, what most people sawas black was usually a deep purple. It was his convictionthat if you wanted to have the colors show properly, thereshould always be some white to give a proper contrast.

My father had taken a very comprehensivecourse on color in his student days at the academy inMunich. It included the theory of color as well as theactual making and mixing of the paints. When he did inte-rior designing, and the professional painters had troublemixing some of the colors he specified, he could quicklytell them what they had to add to get the color he wanted.His studies also included work in color chemistry, whichhelped him a great deal in his work. Most of his pictureshave proved to be colorfast and have not faded or deterio-rated in the sunlight, the way so many pictures now do.He always used permanent colors and good paper andcanvas. The only period when this was not so was duringWorld War II when it was impossible to get some of thegood colorfast pastels from Germany. He was also veryconscious of the poisonous effects of some paints and cau-tioned students about getting any paint in the mouth

W. Tjark Reiss, retiredAssistant Director ofEducational FacilitiesPlanning, New York StateEducation Department,received a Bachelor ofScience in Architectural

Engineering fromMassachusetts Institute ofTechnology in 1934 and is apracticing licensed architectis New York.

My father, Fritz WilhelmWinold Reiss marriedHenriette Anna Luthy, mymother, in the fall of 1912.My mother and I arrived inNew York in April 1914.(Figure #1)

Credits for the illustrations inthis article are listed onpage 80.

Summer/Fall 1993 My Father Winold Reiss 59

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because of the extreme danger of poisoning. He con-stantly experimented with new materials and techniques aswell as with many different media, including charcoal,conte crayon, ink, oil, pastel, tempera, watercolor, dye,colored ink, and colored pencil. Besides his portraits, hedid wood and linoleum cuts, batiks, textiles, graphics,designs for interiors, murals, industrial designs, and illus-trations and magazine covers. He also created the largestmosaic murals in the United States, in the CincinnatiUnion Terminal.

This versatility served him well through theups and downs of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s. If one eco-nomic avenue petered out, he turned to something else.He was never on WPA and supported himself by his ownefforts throughout his life. In addition to carrying out hisown artistic commissions, he was also a teacher, both in hisown art schools and at New York University. For manyyears one of his main sources of income was his art school.Not only did he have a school in New York City but forseveral summers he also ran one in Woodstock. In the1930s he had an art school out in Glacier Park, Montana.He taught mural painting at New York University from thelate thirties through the 1940s. During World War II hetaught a course in the School of Architecture at NYU onthe art of camouflage: how to disguise buildings, industrialsites, military targets by modifying outlines and shadowsthrough the use of color and materials such as netting.

Although gregarious, Winold Reiss was avery private person. He seldom joined clubs or societies,nor to my knowledge was he ever involved in any kind ofopen dissent. During WWI he remained neutral in spite ofhis German citizenship (He became a U.S. citizen onMarch 14,1932).

On October 22,1913, my father sailed on theSS Imperator, from Hamburg, Germany. On the ship hemet Oscar Wentz, inventor, entrpreneur, and businessman;and A.L. Baumgarten whose brother Otto, a Vienneserestaurateur and later owner of the Voisin, the Crillon, andthe Elysee, had an important influence on his career overthe next thirty years. He arrived in Hoboken, New Jersey,on October 29, and stayed at the Mills Hotel, down in theBowery, until he could find suitable quarters which turnedout to be a studio at 16th Street and Fifth Avenue.

My mother and I arrived in New York inApril 1914 — I was three months old (having been born onDecember 27, in Munich). Shortly after our arrival my par-ents rented a place in Woodstock in upstate New York

Figure 3

since it was cheaper to live in the country. My mother andI lived in the Woodstock area during the World War Iyears. On weekends my father would come up from thecity, where he was doing his best to earn a living. Theseyears were not easy for a German national. Not that he waspro-German, but having only come to this country in 1913,the year before war broke out in Europe, he had a strongGerman accent and his English was not very good.

The prejudices of some of the local people atthat time are unforgettable. Our next-door neighbor inWoodstock was a doctor who would catch me outside thehouse and tell me what horrible people I had for a motherand father, who was German, and the Germans were doing

In the 1930s he had an artschool in Glacier Park,Montana. (Figure #2)

For several summers afterWorld War I Reiss ran an artschool in Woodstock, NewYork. (Figure #3)

60 Queen City Heritage

Figure 4

ghastly things like cutting off women's breasts and tortur-ing people.2

When my father was in Woodstock, he oftenrode horseback. One day he noticed another man onhorseback riding behind him. When it became obviousthat the man was purposefully following him, my fatherstopped his horse, turned around, and asked what wasgoing on. The man turned out to be from the SecretService. Some of the locals had reported that Mr. Reisswas planning to poison the reservoirs in the area, whichserved New York City. My father explained that heenjoyed riding and as an artist was interested in land-scapes, not in poisoning reservoirs. He suggested they ridetogether instead of in single file. After a few days of thisthey became friendly, and the surveillance ended.

When we lived in Woodstock, even thoughmy mother was English,3 she couldn't get anyone to chop

wood for us, which we needed for heating and cooking,because she was married to a German. People were actual-ly annoyed at her for not divorcing my father because hewas a German. Oddly enough, she later divorced him, butfor a different reason.

After the house in Woodstock, we boardedat a working farm, the Lasher Farm in Bearsville. My par-ents had the wonderful idea of hiring horses and a wagonand of traveling around the countryside. They planned forus to stay overnight at farmhouses along the way. We setoff with high enthusiasm, but found that no farmerswould take us in. The farmers said that only gypsies trav-eled in such a way and to be a gypsy was not desirable intheir eyes. So, we had to turn around and go back toBearsville. After the war we continued to go to Woodstockat various times, and my father ran an art school there fortwo or three summers. During these years, my dad was

In his Woodstock years, myfather painted landscapesand portraits.(Figure #4)


painting landscapes and portraits, one of which was ofKonrad Cramer, the Woodstock artist and photographer.

My father was instrumental in bringing mod-ern art to the United States. In 1914 he helped found,along with his friend Oscar Wentz, the Society of ModernArt in New York City and its magazine, the Modern ArtCollector, or M.A. C. Many of the illustrations and coverswere done by my father. There was also work by KonradCramer and Ilonka Karasz. The purpose of the M.A.C. wasto introduce the new modern art form to Americans. Hisefforts to introduce this new art form, which seemed out-landish to many, and his German accent and lack of fluen-cy in English obviously made things very difficult. Mymother, an artist in her own right, was very active in pro-moting my father's work. People, who might not be eagerto deal with a German, were receptive to mother, whocould move freely without incurring suspicion and preju-dice since she was English. Father also did graphics andadvertising work. This work, his pictures, exhibited at theHanfstaengl Gallery, and the Winold Reiss Art School,which the M.A.C. magazine advertised, enabled my fatherto make a living during these years.

World War I eventually killed the M.A.C,which was having important influence on modern art. AChicago newspaper article called modern art a secretweapon of the Germans, designed to subvert American

culture and undermine morality and good taste. ModernArt Collector, which had a beneficial effect on my dad'swork, ceased in 1917, and he again found it necessary todiversify to make enough money to survive. In spite ofthese difficult times, he never lost his sense of humor, norhis optimism, that eventually things would get better.

It was ironic that my father suffered fromsuch suspicion during the war. Throughout his life,Winold Reiss was a pacifist, as was his brother Hans, whoemigrated to Sweden in 1914 rather than stay in Germany.4

Violence was abhorrent to my father. For this reason, hewould have no firearms of any kind. In 1920 when he wentto Mexico, everyone advised him to take a gun because ofthe civil war going on there. He refused, saying that hispencil and paper would be greater protection, whichproved to be the case. He tramped through the country-

Figure 5

Figure 6

side for months and several times he was surrounded byguerrillas. But he would take out his sketchbook and startdrawing. This captured their interest, and they were soonglad to pose and sign the pictures. Had he had a gun heprobably would have been killed.

As a result of this trip, in 1923 my fatherillustrated an essay on Mexico written by Katherine AnnePorter, art editor for Survey Graphic magazine, who was inMexico writing articles about the revolution at the time he

The Winold Reiss Schoolhelped my father earn aliving. Artists such as AaronDouglas (standing middle),and Ilonka Karasz (seatedlower right) studied with myfather (standing second fromleft). (Figure #5)

In 1914 Reiss helped foundthe Society of Modern Artand its magazine, Modern ArtCollector. (Figure #6)


COLOR GRAVURE

Pictures inNatural Colors

Figure 7

On his trip to Mexico Reissvisited Zapata's headquartersat Cuernavaca, sketchingsoldiers, bandits, and revolu-tionaries along the way.(Figure #7)


there. Porter wrote:Winold Reiss appeared one morning in

Mexico City, quite out of nowhere, and invited me to walk tothe cathedral of Tepozotlan with him that day. He had visit-ed it in the beginning of his summer in Mexico — it wasthen November — and now wished to return for a finalglimpse, 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 Indiansand told an amazing story: he had tramped the states ofOaxaca, Jalisco, Puebla, and I think Morelos, though I amnot sure, alone, unarmed, carrying enough food to last onlyfrom one village to another.

This account hints at my father's stamina—the "walk" he proposed to Porter was a twenty-five milehike.5

The connection with Survey Graphic led tocommissions for a number of assignments, including oneon St. Helena Island, South Carolina, painting membersof the Penn Community School who were descendants ofsome of the last slaves brought over from Africa at the endof the Civil War and who had been dropped and left there.Because of their isolation, they had maintained an unusualethnic purity, with no admixture with whites or otherAfrican Americans. My father produced an outstandingseries of portraits, which appeared in the magazine.

After we moved back to New York Cityfrom Woodstock, my father rented a building at 4Christopher Street. It was an artist's dream. He actuallymade money on the building: he rented the basement tothe Four Trees Night Club as well as two stores on thestreet level. As a result the huge studio, which he used forhis own work and the art school, was essentially free.Modest living quarters were in the studio part of thebuilding.

He also spent a lot of time in Harlem wherehe painted a variety of subjects, including many well-known Blacks. One of his portraits was of King Amoah IIIof the Gold Coast. Another was of Matt Hensen, whoaccompanied Admiral Peary to the North Pole. Hensentold interesting stories while posing, including how he hadfrozen and lost his toes in the dash to the pole. Not onlydid my father associate with and paint men like W.E.BDubois and Langston Hughes, educated Blacks who car-ried the Harlem Renaissance, but he also painted the ordi-nary people who were not well educated and who hadrun-of-the-mill jobs, or no jobs at all. When my fathertried to arrange for exhibitions of the Black portraits he

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had done, no gallery would handle them because theydidn't want their gallery full of Black visitors. The onlyplace he could arrange for a show was at a Harlem library.Many years later these portraits were acquired by theNational Portrait Gallery in Washington, where they arenow on permanent exhibition.

In 1923 my mother and father weredivorced,6 supposedly because of another woman — but Ithink it was also because of my mother's possessiveness,which my father couldn't stand. He needed a certain free-dom. After the divorce I lived with my mother, but shewas quite understanding about letting me see a lot of myfather. When I was eight, I went to Europe with him andstayed with my grandparents in Switzerland and then withmy grandmother, aunt, and cousin in Germany. My fathertraveled extensively on this trip, painting portraits ofGerman peasants as well as of the Oberammergau passionplayers. He visited his brother Hans in Sweden, and paint-ed portraits of peasants there.

In St. Helena, South Carolina,he painted children of thePenn Community Schoolwhom Reiss believed weredescendants of some of thelast Africans brought toAmerica under the slavetrade. (Figure #8)


Much of the time Erika Lohman, a formerDuncan dancer, accompanied him. My mother didn'tknow anything about this and would have been furious ifshe had. It was a difficult and unfortunate situation for myfather but he understood and was always glad to see me,doing what he could to avoid compromising and embar-rassing situations. During some of the Glacier Park sum-mers, Erika lived on the west side of the park and wouldoccasionally visit my father, whose studio was on the eastside. An artist, originally influenced in her painting tosome extent by my father, she later developed her ownstyle and produced some very fine work. My father contin-ued his close relationship with Erika Lohman through the1940s.7

Figure 9

My father and Erika had much in common,but they never married. My father's divorce from mymother, I think, soured him on the idea of marriage. Mymother, of course, could not really forgive him for whatshe considered a most unacceptable lifestyle, which led herto seek the divorce.8 Despite their divorce, my parentsmaintained a fairly friendly relationship and valued each

other's artistic ability.Although I lived with my mother, I was

always more than glad to go down to the studio inGreenwich Village. It was a fascinating place to visit. Notonly because it was where my dad lived and painted — Iloved watching him paint — but also because of theschool, which meant that there were many students,friends of my father's, business associates, and other inter-esting people. Artists who visited included the sculptorIsamu Noguchi whose portrait he painted; his sister AilesGilmour, a modern dancer; the photographer NicholasMuray; Alan Crane, a lithographer and former student; themovie actress Wilna Hervey, and the artist (and his formerstudent) Marion Greenwood. The place was always hum-ming. Even Parker, the mounted policeman in the area,liked dropping in, ostensibly to visit my dad, but really onthe chance that a nude model would be posing.

The building and studio at 4 ChristopherStreet were unique. When the stores were not rented, mydad let Congo, a Zulu, stay in one of them. Congo, a verygood-natured person, did many miscellaneous errands formy dad, the studio, and the students as well as performedAfrican dances at the Congo Roof in the Alamac Hotel.The store Congo stayed in had a big show window, whichhe covered with a curtain for privacy. Sometimes he forgotabout the curtain. If you approached 4 Christopher Streetand saw a crowd standing out in front, you immediatelyknew that one, Congo had set a match to his great mop ofhair; or two, he was training his boa constrictor.

Congo believed that cutting his hair wouldseriously diminish his masculinity, and so he burned it off.It was a sight to see him lighting his hair and then pattingit out with his hands. Since my father had designed thepublic rooms of the Alamac Hotel including the CongoRoof, he was able to arrange for Congo to dance therewith his boa constrictor. Congo kept the boa in a boxunder his bed. It was an unforgettable experience to watchhim take it out from underneath his bed and practice hisdance routines. The boa constrictor, about eight feet long,would entwine itself around Congo's body. He had a tech-nique of stroking its throat to make the snake's musclesrelax which concerned my father who wondered if thistechnique would always work. Congo reassured him itwould. Then one day when he was performing his snakedance for the students, the boa constrictor would notrelax. After some time Congo lost all the color in his face.The boa's muscles kept tightening, but Congo didn'tpanic and kept on stroking until the snake finally released

Reiss's image of Alain Locke,editor of The New Negro: AnInterpretation, captured theracial pride that Locke andother Black intellectuals ofthe Harlem Renaissancewished to project. (Figure #9)

Summer/Falll993 My Father Winold Reiss 65

Figure 10

Figure 11

On a 1922 trip to Europe, myfather traveled extensivelypainting portraits of Germanpeasants as well as of theOberammergau passionplayers. (Figure #10)

Erika Lohman had a closerelationship with my fatherthrough the twenties, thirties,and forties, but they nevermarried. (Figure #11)

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 livedand worked together until the early 1940s. My uncle, asculptor and very accomplished in drawing and painting aswell as in teaching, helped my father with many of hiscommissions, particularly the murals for which he preparedthe canvases and enlarged the sketches to full size. Myuncle had few inhibitions. When he and my father werewalking to Luchow's in Union Square for lunch — orwherever else they happened to be walking — and saw alikely candidate for a portrait, he would try and talk theperson into coming to my father's studio to pose. Hiseffort usually paid off, and resulted in securing many quiteinteresting subjects.

Among the interesting people who posed forWinold Reiss were the "King of the Hobos," whose por-trait turned out to be a very fine one; William HenryJackson, and Bill Hooker. Jackson (1843- 1942) was a pio-neer photographer, historian, and artist of the West whotook the first photographs of the Yellowstone region.While posing he described his life as a pioneer on theOregon Trail and the Old Spanish Trail. In addition to themass of photos he took, he also portrayed the West in

watercolor. Bill Hooker was a pony express rider and anOregon Trail Blazer of the 1870s. Other unique characterspainted by Winold Reiss on his western trips includedFisherman Harrison, Sergeant Howard of the RoyalCanadian Mounted Police; Hans Thompson, pioneer;"Colonel" E.A. Smith, at age ninety-four; Ewald vonHoffman; "Montana Red" Shy; and Henry Whitford.

In the twenties, Americans tended to beconservative and uniform in their dress and usually woreclothing that did not vary much from the generally accept-ed style. In this respect my family was quite unusual.Maybe this was because of their artistic nature andEuropean education, but in any case they all had thecourage to dress as they wanted to. Fortunately they weretalented and exercised good taste.

My father wore smocks in his studiothroughout his life. These Erika hand-embroidered anddecorated with her own designs. My father did not care forthe short American haircut and allowed his hair to coverhis ears. His appearance was definitely that of an artist. Iremember walking down Sixth Avenue with my father andmy uncle, just after my uncle had come to this country. Myuncle was wearing homespun clothing that he had broughtfrom Sweden. Both had rather long hair, in fact my uncle'shair was trimmed below his ears. We obviously madeenough of a picture for people to turn around and stare atus. I did not appreciate this and stared in return. My fatherand uncle, however, were totally unperturbed.

My father had a healthy sense of humor (heliked 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 ofhis, 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 artistand former student of Reiss,was one of the numerousinteresting people andbusiness associates whovisited his studio.(Figure #12)

Congo, a Zulu who at timesstayed at 4 ChristopherStreet, believed that cuttinghis hair would seriouslydiminish his masculinity andso he would burn it off.(Figure #13)


his coat, much to the interest of the other passengers.Feldman also told of a times in restaurants when one ofthem pretended to speak only German, the other onlyFrench, and the third only Hungarian. The waiter ofcourse couldn't understand what they wanted, and theyhad a dramatic time explaining what they were ordering.In the end they all spoke English and told the waiter thathe really ought to learn a foreign language.

My father enjoyed music, and during hisyouth his family often had musical evenings. He played theflute, his brother Hans played the guitar, and his two sis-ters sang. He brought the flute to this country, andalthough I saw it, I never heard him play. He was tooabsorbed in his art work. He also enjoyed jazz and classicalmusic and loved to dance the foxtrot and the tango. Atparties when others were playing bridge, he would invite

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Figure 14

For years my father had a cleaning womanby the name of Steinruck who had come over fromGermany with her husband. Steinruck, who enjoyed hav-ing 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 onlyone failing, and that was that she liked to sneak a drink.My father was not a drinker, but he kept a bottle ofwhiskey on hand for guests. He noticed that the whiskeylevel was sinking lower and lower and realized that theonly person who could be responsible for this was FrauSteinruck. My father and uncle decided they'd put a stopto it. They staged a conversation for Frau Steinruck tooverhear, saying that someone had used the bottle torelieve themselves. Ha! From then on, the liquor levelremained stable.

Figure 15

the young ladies to dance. In the early 1920s my dad orga-nized masquerade balls, which were very popular. Myfather was also a great movie fan and particularly likedwesterns, because of the action and the horses and thewestern landscapes.

Hans Reiss, brother ofWinold, helped with manycommissions, particularly themurals for which he preparedthe canvases and enlargedthe sketches to full size.(Figure #14)

Pioneer photographer,historian, and artist of theWest, William Henry Jacksonwho is credited with helpingto persuade Congress tocreate Yellowstone NationalPark posed for Reiss.(Figure #15)

Queen City Heritage

My father had come to the U.S. with theidea of painting American Indians. He thought the Indianswould be living in the countryside outside the cities, muchas the European peasants did. He was quite surprised tofind that most of the Indians were far away in the West.Therefore it took some time to raise the funds to travelthere. Except for a brief visit to Browning, Montana in1919 my father did not have the opportunity to experiencethe West until 1927 when the Great Northern Railroadinvited my father to go out to Glacier Park for the summerand paint the Blackfeet Indians. The Great Northernplanned to use the portraits for indirect advertising, toencourage tourists to use the Great Northern Railroad andtheir hotels in Glacier Park. I accompanied him on thistrip, the first of many June to September journeys.

The best opportunity to see the Indians wasat the Sun Dance, which was held in Browning, Montana,or near Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Not only were most ofthe Blackfeet or Blood present, but Crees, Crows, andFlathead, and tribes from other reservations in Alberta andMontana also joined in the celebration. In Canada the SunDance was held ten miles from Cardston, Alberta, thenearest community. The location and approaches herewere strictly controlled by the Canadian mounted policewho permitted only those with a written pass from theIndian agent to attend. Approaching the celebration was

Figure 16

an unforgettable experience, seeing the Indian tepees andwagons surrounding the sun lodge. This always inspiredmy father, who could not wait to see the wonderful localIndians as well as their guests. We spent much more timeat the Canadian Sun Dance than in Browning. JamesWillard Schultz, the author of many Indian books, wasoften there, and my father talked with him about his earlyexperiences while living with the Indians. Our camp ofthree or four tepees housed our Indian guests and provid-ed models for my father as well as for his art school. Iwould pick the Indians up from the reservation with PercyCreighton, our interpreter, and bring them back with theirpots and pans and costumes and blankets and robes. Whenmy father was painting, there were always a few Indians sit-ting around watching him, telling stories to each other andcommenting on the pictures. My father worked best withthis constant murmur going on in the background.9

The Indians enjoyed posing in exchange forpay and rations. Evening Pow-Wows were arranged for thestudents and visitors, which included participation in thedancing and singing. This was also an opportunity for theIndians to make a little extra money. Ideal as this was forthe Indians, there was always some individual who wouldannounce that he had to return to the reservation to "dothe haying." If they had been in camp only a short timeand their pictures were not completed, this was a majorinconvenience. It took some persuasion to have them delaytheir departure for a few days. Being a nomadic peoplethey had to be on the move. Often no sooner had theyreturned to their haying but they sent word through othersthat they would like to come back.

At this time the Indians had the status of"wards of the government." There was prohibition on thereservation, but in spite of this liquor was easily obtainable,and excessive drinking was a curse. My dad refused to tol-erate this and sometimes insisted that certain individualsreturn home. This was not a prudish attitude. He couldnot stand to see an Indian lose stature and dignity.

Aside from the interesting histories heassembled, my father also documented the meaning of themany designs that adorned native Indian costumes. Eachtribe had its own typical designs, and they were very beau-tiful. Those of the Blackfeet featured stylized rivers andmountains. With the more eastern Indians, flower designsindicated the influence of missionaries. My father did notbelieve in collecting Indian artifacts or clothing. He main-tained that these beautiful artifacts should remain in thepossession of the tribe. This resulted in embarrassing situa-

On his trips west, Reiss paint-ed many unique charactersincluding Hans Thompson, aBad Lands, South Dakota,pioneer. (Figure #16)

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Figure 18

Reiss enjoyed music andloved to dance. In the early1920s he organizedmasquerade balls which werevery popular. (Figure #17)

In 1927 Great NorthernRailroad invited my father toGlacier Park for the summerto paint Blackfeet Indians.(Figure #18)


Figure 19

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Figure 20

The Indians enjoyed posingin exchange for pay andrations. In 1928 Reiss posedwith some of his Blackfeetfriends in Glacier Park. Left toright: Unknown, Reiss,Plume, and Turtle.(Figure #19)

Tribes from reservations inAlberta, Canada, andMontana joined the celebra-tion of the Sun Dance.(Figure #20)

Percy Creighton (Little Dog)served as interpreter.(Figure #21)


tions, because the Indians often wished to give him some-thing as a token of friendship. He would say that he wouldtake the present next year, but after a couple of years ofthis the interpreter would indicate that the giver felt hurtand insist that my father accept the gift.

One of the many things in life that my fatherreally appreciated was the automobile. Cars gave himtremendous pleasure throughout his career. On our firsttrips to Montana we traveled by train but when we werethere, we usually rented a car to get around to the Indians.Around 1930 my father decided it would be much better togo by automobile. He didn't drive, but my uncle did. Myfather began shopping for cars. He looked at all theoptions, but of course was interested in a car's appearancemore than anything else, and the car he chose was aHupmobile touring car. It was a beauty. We started outfrom New York and stopped at all kinds of places — Ithink it took us ten days to two weeks to make the trip.And of course, after Minneapolis and St. Paul the roadswere dirt and usually washboard. My uncle attempted toteach my father how to drive, but this wasn't so easy. Ittook about two years before my father felt he could passthe driver's test.

Figure 22

Figure 23

For my high school graduation my fathergave me a Ford Cabriolet, a two-seater. We also used thiscar for the trips out West during the summers when the artschool in Glacier Park was going on. We had a regular car-avan, with other students who took students with them. Itwas very sociable. When we got out there, I put a trailer onthe Cabriolet to pick up the Indians on the reservation andbring them to Many Glacier, where we had our camp.

After several years my dad traded in theHupmobile for his dream car, a Cadillac roadster. We usedto drive out in the country on weekends in it. One summerwe had no money, and we wondered how we'd get outWest. My uncle was charged with talking to students andgetting prepaid tuition which paid for the gas and theaccommodations on the way out. However, when we gotout to Glacier Park, our funds were so low that my dad putthe Cadillac up on chocks in a garage. The excuse he usedwas that he wouldn't use such a beautiful car on the horri-ble roads. When we got back to New York that fall, thingshadn't improved, so he gave me the job of selling it. Iwent to three or four places, and the most I could get was$600 for that gorgeous car. I remember how sad he felt

Reiss documented the mean-ing of many designs thatadorned native Indiancostumes. His painting ofYellow Mink showed asample of a typical Blackfootdesign. (Figure #22)

Around 1933 he paintedSpider. (Figure #23)


Figure 24

when he had to say, "Yes, sell it...." After that, as soon ashe could afford a car again, he bought a Ford — and hestuck to Fords (and enjoyed station wagons and convert-ibles) for the rest of his life.

The art school in Glacier National Park waspopular with my dad's students. Among the better-knownstudents were Marion Greenwood, Aaron Douglas, AlanCrane, and Ludwig Bemelmans. Bemelmans enrolled inthe school for a month or two for a few years. My fathertold him that his style really should not be spoiled by toomuch instruction. However, he came back each year, reallybecause he had a sharp eye for the ladies, and there were anumber 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 wasan annual performance for several years and afforded us allsome good laughs.

My father felt that everybody had some sortof artistic talent — it just had to be brought out and devel-oped in different ways. You Can Design, a book he wrotein collaboration with Albert Schweizer, stressed this point.He did not try to influence the students to paint exactly ashe did but tried to encourage them to develop their ownstyle. He encouraged young artists and gave scholarshipsto those who could not pay any tuition, including AaronDouglas, a Black painter, and Acee Blue Eagle, an Indianpainter.

One of my father's best friends was CarlLink, a German, Munich-trained artist who had studied lifedrawing, graphics, interior design, and portraiture. On thelast three trips West, he accompanied my father and paint-ed some Indian portraits. He was particularly gifted inmaking quick, unstudied sketches of people in the sub-ways, restaurants, and the Horn and Hardart automats. Hedid this in a way not to reveal what he was doing althoughsome individuals became a little annoyed and wonderedwhy they were being so frequently observed.10

Among my dad's other friends was an artistwho often helped on his murals. He was saving his moneyto return to Germany. My father tried to dissuade him,saying that after living here, life in Germany would seemvery restricted. He went anyway and after a few years wroteback saying how sorry he was not to have followed myfather's advice. To me this shows how much my father hadresponded to and appreciated the freedom he found inAmerica.

In 1927 at the end of the first summer inGlacier Park, my father brought back about fifty pictures ofIndians he had painted, and Great Northern bought thewhole collection. This set him up for awhile financially,which was fortunate, because he soon received a rudeshock. The City of New York notified my father that it wasgoing to dispossess him of 4 Christopher Street, becausethe building was needed as a first aid center for theIndependent Subway, which was about to be built. Thiswas a catastrophe. He had the art school, and commissionsfor interior designing and murals, and he also needed aplace for his own painting. He had to have a large space.After searching for many months he finally found an emptyButler Grocery warehouse at 108 West 16th Street. Thisraw space, 50 feet by 100 feet, had to be completely reno-vated to meet his needs which included adding skylights,partitions, toilet facilities, electricity, and heating. Theexpense was enormous. Fortunately he had just receivedthe payment from Great Northern, all of which he invested

His dream car was a Cadillacroadster which he drove outin the country on weekends.(Figure #24)


in the renovation. He insisted on a ten-year lease becausehe was investing so much money into the building. Thencame the 1929 crash after which few jobs came in. For thenext ten years, the building drained all his hard-earnedincome. He fell behind in his rent payments, so at the endof the ten years he had to agree to rent the facility foranother five years, to get the landlord to reduce the debt.

At the new studio, at 108 W. 16th Streetbetween Sixth and Seventh avenues, he hired a pianist toplay for his art school once or twice a week. The studentsdid imaginative drawing to the music, and it proved a verypopular innovation.

Just after moving into the W. 16th Street stu-dio my father received the commission to do the muralsfor the new Cincinnati Union Terminal. This was anartist's dream — an opportunity to do something on alarge scale, for a monumental building. The assignmentincluded two giant murals for the rotunda, each 22 feethigh by 110 feet long, plus fourteen smaller industrialmurals depicting the major industries of Cincinnati. Theoriginal agreement called for the murals to be painted oncanvas, which would be stretched on the walls, but myfather 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 feeif they would apply this money to the project. He suggest-ed using mosaics only for the main figures in the muralsand doing the backgrounds in stucco, which was a veryinnovative idea. All the figures (about sixty in all) — steelworkers, laundry machine workers, chemical workers, rail-road workers — were drawn from life, with the modelswearing the appropriate clothing, which my father broughtback from Cincinnati. This was a great opportunity for himto include any of his friends who happened to be aroundthe studio at this time. I was there a lot, and ended up pos-ing for four or five of the figures. The preliminary sketcheswere done with conte crayon on 30 by 22-inch sheets ofpaper. These were enlarged to life size in oil on canvas.The life-sized figures were in turn doubled in size by theRavenna Mosaic Company. My father painted the figuresin a simplified technique using distinct color areas to

Figure 26

enable the mosaic workers to copy and execute them prop-erly. The mosaic specialists normally worked from a stan-dard drawing or painting and blocked in their own inter-pretation of the color areas and relationships. Although theway my father did it involved considerably more work forhim, it ensured that his artistic design would remain intactand accurate.

Figure 25

His friend and fellow Germanartist devoted to Indianportraiture, Carl Link, drew aportrait of Reiss around 1943.(Figure #25)

During the 1930s, Reiss'sstudio was a gathering placefor artists, dancers, andmusicians. He paintedportraits, many representingthe actresses and modelswho frequented his studio.(Figure #26)


When the station was completed, and themosaics were about to be applied to the walls, my fatherreceived another shock. The terminal officials, facing astrike by the railroad workers, feared that the murals wouldlook too good and imply that the railroad was overly pros-perous. They were afraid that the unions would demandsettlements beyond what they could afford. The situationwas frustrating and difficult. The mosaics were all ready tobe installed but nothing could be done. All they could dowas wait. Fortunately, an agreement was finally reachedand the murals were installed.

Designing and executing the CincinnatiTerminal murals took my father about two years. All thefigures were drawn from life, even the pictures of the ter-minal officials were actually life portraits. Unfortunatelythe description of these murals in some of the existing lit-erature is incorrect. One can read that these murals werepainted from photographs of local people and places, butphotographs were only used for the technical backgroundsof the machines.11

ed. The legs of one figure alone were about eight feetlong, which gives an indication of the size of the figures.

Otto Baumgarten, the Viennese restaurateurand long time friend, was largely responsible for many ofthe interiors that my father executed. The Crillon, a bigsuccess for many years at 15 East 48th Street, was the firstrestaurant he opened. It was the first modern — reallymodern — restaurant in New York City, thanks to thedecor that my father designed in 1919. In fact, when theowner of the building saw the decor being installed, hethought it was outrageous and threatened to cancel thelease. However, when the project was finished, he becameone of my father's greatest supporters. Not only was OttoBaumgarten responsible for getting commissions for mydad, he acted as his business manager for many projects.

In the course of his career my dad designedmany modern interiors, including the layout, murals, pic-tures, menus, matchboxes, furniture, rugs, and advertisinggraphics. Otto Baumgarten introduced my father to HenryLustig, owner of the Longchamps restaurant chain. My

Figure 27

For the 1939 New York World's Fair, myfather received a sizeable commission, to create a 30-40 feethigh and 100 feet long mural for the facade of the Theaterand Concert building. He designed a motif which was exe-cuted in aluminum and bronze by Fechner, a very talentedmetal worker (and incidentally a World War I Germanfighter pilot). It made a striking appearance when complet-

Figure 28

father eventually designed ten Longchamps restaurants inNew York City — each in a different motif. The most suc-cessful was probably the one at 59th Street and MadisonAvenue, which was done on an American Indian themeand in which he used a number of his Indian portraits. Heused another Indian motif for the Longchamps restaurantin Washington, D.C., at F and 14th streets, incorporating

Preliminary sketches for hismural figures, such as theRailroad Worker (Figure # 27)and The Pioneer (Figure #28)were done with conte crayonon 30 by 22 inch sheets ofwater color paper.


numerous Indian portraits, some very effective murals,interior design, and graphics. He later executed a colonialdesign for the Philadelphia Longchamps.12

As an interior designer my father naturallycollaborated with many architects. In the twenties and thir-ties architects tended to be quite conventional and tradi-tional and had little training in or experience with color.Many appreciated my father's innovative talent as well ashis bold use of color and were therefore pleased to workwith him.

Probably a reason for his success in interiordesign was that his specifications regarding upholstery, cur-tain material, floor coverings, table tops, menus, matchboxes, and even advertising were all coordinated to com-plement the murals and pictures. Each picture frame,molding, shape, and color enhanced the painting. Theframes were custom made to his specifications by SamFriedman on East Ninth Street. I often had to go toFriedman's shop and inquire about the status of the latestorder, which had not been delivered. With a stern look,

Mr. Friedman would say, "No frames until the last bill ispaid." I then truthfully answered, "We have to sell the pic-ture to get the money to pay you." After a little coaxing,he would frown, shake his head, and agree to one moretime.

In 1931 my father conceived a project to pre-serve a record of the American Indian for posterity. It envi-sioned a collection of 300 portraits, which would coverIndian reservations in eleven different states. The plan wasto interest subscribers in purchasing certificates of owner-ship. For the investment, the subscriber would receive aportrait. My father hoped to raise enough money to spendtwo years traveling around the country painting these por-traits. He wrote many letters to people he believed wouldbe interested. Unfortunately, all the answers were negative,so the project never got off the ground. This deeply dis-couraged him — he had hoped to create a monument tothe American Indian. He knew that the older Indians weredying off and that soon there would be no Indian customsor costumes left to represent the many existing tribes.

Figure 29

He designed an aluminumand bronze mural for theTheater and Concert buildingat the 1939 New York World'sFair. (Figure #29)


As mentioned, my father loved the automo-bile and was an inveterate weekend driver up to the coun-try, where he would draw barns and landscapes and visitfriends. During the middle 1930s he traveled a great deal inConnecticut and New York and became interested in buy-ing a farm. He told the real estate agent that he wantedacreage on a dirt road, the buildings set back from theroad, with no utility poles and wires in the immediatevicinity of the house. He got a call from an agent inColumbia County, about a hundred miles upstate in NewYork, who said he had just the house for him. The nextweekend we drove up, picked up the agent at Copake, andnegotiated fifteen miles over dirt roads. We eventuallyarrived at an old broken-down farmhouse, and a barn instill less good condition, on 130 acres. This was in 1938,the depths of the Depression, and the property had beenon the market for over two years.

My father liked the property and said he'dbe back next weekend to look at it again. When we droveup the next weekend, we took a different road and withinless than a mile of the house, we came upon a factorybelching smoke and a village. My father said, "That fellow,he certainly fooled me — I'm not going to take a propertyso close to anything like this." But he went back and tookone more walk on the place. It was so beautiful that hesaid, "Oh well, let's buy it anyway."

The problem again was money. He hadsigned an agreement to do some murals for National CashRegister in their new showroom in Rockefeller Center. Ivividly remember the day when the architect came with thevice-president of National Cash Register to look at thedrawings. We were all anticipation. My father had made a

finished preliminary scale drawing in line with what he hadpreviously shown to the vice-president. When they enteredthe studio you could tell that something was wrong. Thevice-president was brusque, looked at the drawing, said,"No, that won't do," and left with the architect. Wecouldn't understand what was going on, but a few minuteslater the architect called and said, "You won't believe whathappened — somebody told Mr. Allen that you were afriend of Adolf Hitler and had gone to school with him inAustria." Well, of course my dad said that was impossible,since he'd never been to Austria, there was considerabledifference in their ages, and he had never met Hitler — infact he was very much opposed to his racial prejudices, hispolitical views, and his actions.

Fortunately my dad had a signed contract sothat a settlement was negotiated. To minimize the disap-pointment we all felt in seeing our winter's work vanish, hesuggested using some of the settlement money as a downpayment on the farm.

The purchase of the farm proved to be hisbest investment, not only from the standpoint of inflationbut because it was a wonderful place to visit and withineasy reach of New York. The old farmhouse was used moreor less as a camp in the first years, and my dad enjoyedworking on it tremendously. He also kept his horse there.

Around 1940 my father moved his studiofrom 108 W. 16th Street to Little West 12th Street. He wasdevoting his time increasingly to interior decoration andwas particularly busy with the Longchamps restaurantchain. The art school was no longer flourishing so myfather gave it up, and Uncle Hans decided to move west.My father had finally paid off the back rent on 108 W. 16th

Figure 30

Reiss designed moderninteriors including the layout,murals (Figure #30), pictures,menus, match boxes,furniture, rugs, andadvertising graphics.


Street, but without the art school the building was a finan-cial drain. The considerably smaller new studio was foundthrough an associate at New York University. The farmwas particularly advantageous because paintings, and othermiscellaneous material that he had in the city, could nowbe stored there.13

At the end of World War II, when I returnedfrom overseas, my dad invited my wife and me to take atrip out west. We traveled in his station wagon, taking sev-eral months. We had a wonderful time, stopping in nation-al parks and looking at a lot of wild and incredible scenery.We stopped at Indian reservations and visited with our oldfriends who were still living on the Blackfoot Reservation.

We went out to Lake Tahoe where my unclehad built himself a studio and home and visited him. On atrip through Carson City, Nevada, my uncle showed us anold stone Chinese bank, which had been built during thegold rush days. At the moment it was vacant, and my unclesaid he had tried numerous times to buy this property fromthe Chinese owner, who lived in San Francisco, but hadnot been successful. Later, when we got to San Francisco,we saw the owner and spoke to him about the possibilityof purchasing this property. He seemed quite willing, andso my father negotiated with him to buy it. Over the nextfew years my uncle rebuilt it, making alterations and addi-tions to turn it into a studio and residence for my dad. He

Figure 31

As usual my father was warmly welcomed and enjoyed talk-ing over old times. He was very sorry to see that the condi-tions of the Indians had not improved since the last timehe had been out west and dismayed to find that many ofthe old people had died. This was the last time he visitedthe Blackfoot Reservation.

had intended to retire there, but unfortunately he had astroke before that was possible. He never did see it com-pleted.14

Although he had never been sick a day in hislife, at sixty-five he suffered a massive stroke which endedhis career. He could no longer talk, and his right side was

In 1938 Reiss purchased afarm in Columbia County,New York. (Figure #31)


paralyzed. He did do some line drawings with his lefthand, but other than that he could do nothing. Onceshortly after the end of World War II, I had mentioned tomy father, who was busy with interior design commissions,that he could now pick his jobs and turn to some of thepainting 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 especial-ly the 1980s saw a renewed interest in the work of WinoldReiss. Several museums exhibited and acquired portraitsfor their collections.16 Art connoisseurs arranged compre-hensive exhibitions of all aspects of his work. In 1989 anarticle entitled "Rediscovering Winold Reiss," written byJohn Heminway, appeared in the Smithsonian Magazine

Figure 32

Throughout this period Mildred Kaufmann,his secretary who had worked for my dad for a number ofyears, selflessly took care of him, engaging people to comein for periods of the day. Mildred took care of him untilthe very end, and became somewhat possessive in doing so.I suggested moving him upstate to Columbia County, to anursing home near the farm, where I was now living. Ithought this would be better than the New York City envi-ronment, but she wouldn't hear of it.15 My father lingeredfor two years, and Mildred did all she could to relieve hissuffering.

When my father died, he left a mass of work,which I transported to the farm and stored. During hislifetime he had seldom been represented by an art dealer,with the result that his pictures were really in "dead" stor-age. Since his death my wife Renate, who has been instru-mental in these efforts, and I have attempted to preservethe legacy of his artistic accomplishments.

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, HenrietteAnna Luthy, were married on September 7, 1912, in Munich. At thetime of his marriage, my father was almost 26 years old: he was bornSeptember 16,1886, in Karlsruhe.2. The allied propaganda of this era was very effective. The doctor'shate must have been very strong to make him so unconscious of whathe was pouring into a small boy. I vividly remember the night hishouse burned down as one of the great joys of my life.3. My mother was born of Swiss parents. My grandfather was work-ing in the Corn Exchanges in Liverpool, England, at the time, andmy mother spent her childhood there. They returned to Switzerlandwhen she was eleven or twelve.4. My father did not escape military service in Germany, however, hecompleted his obligatory one year of active duty at a military trainingground near Lake Constance, from October 1,1909, to September 30,1910. He finished this stint with a "sehr gut" on his record, and qual-ified as an officer candidate. When the German army was mobilizedfor World War I, he was already in the United States. He did report

After his father's death, TjarkReiss transported his paint-ings and work to the farm.The 1960s and 1970s saw arenewed interest in WinoldReiss and today his work isrecognized and preserved in

museums, galleries, andprivate collections.(Figure #32)


to the German consulate in New York, as he was supposed to, butthe Consul told him, "You'll never make it— you'll end up spendingthe war in a British prisoner of war camp. Stay right here and forgetabout it," which is what he happily did. By the time World War IIbroke out, he was an American citizen.5. That my father did indeed include the state of Morelos in his trav-els was corroborated by Thomas Walsh, an English professor atGeorgetown University who conducted research on Katherine AnnePorter's papers; he reported seeing reproductions of two scenes thatWinold 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 dancegroup through Otto Baumgarten at the Crillon Restaurant. Hepainted portraits of all the dancers, which are now in the possessionof the Lincoln Center Library.8. Only recently did I discover something that helps explain why myfather never married Erika. The fine print on my parents' divorcedecree states that, although my mother was free to remarry, myfather, as "defendant," would only be allowed to marry with specialcourt permission. Such a court case would doubtless have involvedpublicity, which my father would not have wanted to subject Erikato.9. The camp was situated near St. Mary's Lake, and they usually builta sweat lodge that would accommodate three or four. After heatingstones 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, pro-duced the steam for the sauna. The entire activity was accompaniedby singing and the recitation of prayers, as this was a sacred ceremo-ny. All at once they would burst from the lodge, run to the lake, andplunge into the icy water.10. Since he and my father were both bachelors, there were manyopportunities to be together. I have a profile of my father that Carlsketched 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 originalsketches and oil paintings for those murals. It is unfortunate that theindividuals who later researched the murals have given an entirelyfalse impression about them. This may be the result of a photograph-er's wishful thinking in overemphasizing the importance of photogra-phy in the creation of the murals.12. Unfortunately, as a result of civil-rights action, the Washingtonrestaurant 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 theracial tensions of the day were responsible for closing access to one ofthe most successful designs of his career.13. The farm also provided an environment for enjoyable experiencesand opportunities for more intimate contacts between my father andmy family. This was particularly important for my son, who was quiteyoung 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 thetime they were drawing together and my father said, "There is some-thing very important that I must tell you, Peter—never let jealousy bea part of your character."14. Later on the State of Nevada condemned the property, razed thebeautiful building, and built an annex office building. Although I wasvery reluctant to sell the building, my lawyer said it would be impos-sible to fight the state and that ultimately we would lose the proper-ty. This was discouraging, because my father had intended to make amuseum 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 thelongest time was Mildred Kaufmann. She was a competent, and alsovery faithful, person, taking care of the studio and tending to busi-ness matters when we were out west in the summer. After his strokeshe had the power of attorney, and there wasn't much I could dowithout 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 hispublication, Winold Reiss: Color and Design in New American Art,(New York 1980, revised 1991). Paul Razcka was instrumetnal in the1986 Winold Reiss Centennial exhibition at the C M . RussellMuseum in Great Falls, MT. George Schriever introduced me toRobert Kashey of the Shepherd Gallery in New York City, whose1986 and later shows were extremely important. George also intro-duced me to James Cox (at that time with the Grand Central Galleryin New York City), who has since opened a gallery of that name inWoodstock, N.Y. W.E. Channing in Santa Fe, NM also exhibits andrepresents Reiss, as does the Michael Lowe Gallery in Cincinnati,OH. As a result of the first Shepherd show, Ford Peatross, Curator ofArchitectural Design at the Library of Congress, became aware ofWinold Reiss and has assembled a large collection of his interiordesigns at the Library of Congress. In 1989, at the invitation of Dr.Alan Fern, director of the National Portrait Gallery at theSmithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., Dr. Jeffrey Stewartguest curated an extensive show there and wrote the accompanyingcatalog and checklist. SITES (Smithsonian Institution TravelingExhibition Service) is currently touring a traveling version of thisexhibition.

Illustrations

Figure #1. Henriette Anna Liithy. 1912. pastel on paper, Mr. andMrs. W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #2. Winold Reiss Summer School on St. Mary's Lake, GlacierPark, 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, NewYork.

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; AaronDouglas, standing middle, Ilonka Karasz, seated lower right. Photocourtesy 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 pageof June 1, 1930. Michael Fredericks Photographer.

Figure #8. Winold Reiss. Ruby and Marie, St. Helena, SouthCarolina, 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, PrivateCollection.


Figure #10. Winold Reiss. The Prayer: Black Forest, 1922. coloredpencil on paper, Renate Reiss. Michael Fredericks Photographer.

Figure #11. Winold Reiss. Erika Lohman in Black Dress, ca. 1938.pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael FredericksPhotographer.

Figure #12. Winold Reiss. Marion Greenwood, 1931. pastel and tem-pera 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 #16. Winold Reiss. Hans Thompson Bad Lands, South Dakotapioneer, pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. MichaelFredericks Photographer.

Figure #17. Winold Reiss Art School, Prismatic Ball of the Society ofIndependent 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; PercyCreighton, far right. Photo by Great Northern Railroad, 1928, cour-tesy 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 byTjark 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. pas-tel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #22. Winold Reiss. Yellow Mink, ca. 1930. a sample of typicalBlackfoot design, pastel on board, Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #23. Winold Reiss painting Spider, ca. 1933. Photo by W.Tjark Reiss.

Figure #24. Winold Reiss at the wheel of his Cadillac roadster. Photoby W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #25. Carl Link. Portrait of Winold Reiss, ca. 1943. pencil onpaper. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #26. Winold Reiss. Thirties Chic, portrait of a woman on goldbackground, mixed media on board. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss.Michael Fredericks Photographer.

Figure #27. Winold Reiss. conte crayon study of railroad worker forCincinnati Union Terminal murals. Courtesy The MIT List VisualArts Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Figure #28. Winold Reiss. conte crayon study of pioneer forCincinnati Union Terminal murals. Courtesy The MIT List VisualArts Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Figure #29. Installation of Bronze and Aluminum Metal Mural byWinold Reiss, at the Theater and Concert Hall at the New YorkWorld's Fair, 1939. Photo by W. Tjark Reiss.

Figure #30. Winold Reiss. design for restaurant mural; gouache onpaper. Mr. and Mrs. W. Tjark Reiss. Michael FredericksPhotographer.

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 33

Reiss loved to horseback rideand he kept his horse, Larry,at the farm. (Figure #33)

my father winold reiss -- recollections by tjark...

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