At some point in your life, you've probably come across this,
an image of an elderly man bowing his head in prayer,
appearing to give thanks for a loaf of bread and a bowl of soup with
his trusty Bible nearby upon which sits a pair of reading glasses.
I remember growing up and seeing this portrait like everywhere.
It hung in my parents house,
my grandparents house, my great grandparents house.
All of my friends seemed to have framed copies up in their homes.
I'd visit various state houses, offices, retail stores,
and see it, and over the years its recurrence has continued to intrigue me.
Honestly, what's the deal with this painting?
When I was a kid, I had a friend named Brian
who had this painting on his living room wall,
and I asked him about it and he said,
"That's a painting of my great,
great, great grandfather."
I don't remember going, why do I have a painting of your great,
great, great grandfather in my home?
He was like, "I don't know."
Nobody seem to know the origin of this iconic image and
yet everybody had one and from it derived meaning,
inspiration and even comfort.
You don't need to know where this art came from to appreciate it. End yet.
First things first, it's not a painting.
The piece is called Grace and actually started as
a black and white photograph taken in
1918 by a Minnesota photographer named Eric Enstrom,
a Swedish American who lived and worked in Bovey,
a small mining town.
Enstrom owned a small photography studio,
struggling to make ends meet during the First World War,
and one day while in the middle of preparing
a new portfolio for the Minnesota Photographers Association,
he received a knock on his front door from a man named Charles Wilden,
a town drunk, who made ends meet as a street peddler,
and lived in a run-down sod house.
Wilden was going door to door selling boot scrapers that day,
and when Enstrom stepped out of his studio to speak to him,
the photographer immediately became captivated by his appearance.
Wilden's bushy white beard and kind face,
struck Enstrom as the perfect look for a portrait to add to his collection.
He invited Wilden in,
asked if he would be interested in making a quick buck by modeling for a picture,
the old man agreed and Enstrom hastily
arranged a setting by putting a few props together on a table,
and then asked him to pose by bowing his head in prayer.
Possession was brief to say the least,
after the photo was captured,
Wilden left with some money in his pocket,
and Enstrom had a new picture for his portfolio.
A few things you'll probably notice about the photograph upon second viewing,
the bowl appears to be empty,
the glasses are also believed to be a prop and not Wilden's actual eyewear,
and that Bible, that's not a Bible.
Honestly, look at it. It's way too thick. It's a dictionary.
Enstrom probably felt the bigger book would look better in the photos
framing and he just turned the spine away from the lens to keep it ambiguous.
The intent of the photo is fairly obvious.
Enstrom wanted an image that conveyed to people that even though
they had to do without many provisions because of the ongoing war,
there were still much to be thankful for.
The picture that seemed to say,
this man doesn't have much of earthly goods,
but he has more than most people because he has a thankful heart,
a message that it turns out immediately clicked with audiences.
Enstrom produced prints for the Photography Associations Convention,
and the photo sold out almost instantly.
Realizing he had to hit the photographer,
quickly produced more prints and as the 20s continued,
tourists purchased thousands upon thousands of copies,
and the photo became a staple in American homes,
restaurants, churches, and state houses.
In 1926, Enstrom tracked Wilden down and convinced
the vagabond to sign over his rights to the image for five dollars.
Then with full copyright ownership,
Enstrom continued selling the photograph and eventually
licensed it to Augsburg Publishing House in 1930,
a business associated with the American Lutheran Church,
which helped to spread it throughout a then much more religious America,
not to mention the rest of the world.
Before long, customers started requesting color version and Enstrom's daughter started
painting over photo prints to give the illusion of the image being an oil painting.
When her father died and she inherited the rights variance of the original image,
particularly this version with a second light source added,
exploded in popularity, becoming the de facto version,
and created such a high demand that the Enstrom family
enjoyed a regular financial commission for many years.
Wilden, the old street peddler vanished from public records and his whereabouts
after receiving his five dollar payout continue to baffle historians.
It appears he got his tiny payday and then lived the rest of his life in obscurity with
the only surviving stories about him revolving
around public intoxication and not much else.
Today, the Enstrom estate still sells copies of the image,
though by now it's fallen into public domain in 2000,
Minnesota made grace the official state photograph.
It turns out this meticulously crafted painting of
a devout man offering thanks for his meal is anything,
but does it matter?
Does knowing the origin of this picture change how you view it?
Knowing that the saintly old man was actually just a town drunk,
willing to put on a costume and pose for some pocket change,
knowing that the Bible isn't the Bible,
that depending on how you look at it.
A photo meant to convey contentment in the face of poverty
became one of the most over commercialized images of the 20th century,
generating who knows how much financial revenue for its creator.
Does any of that actually invalidate the comfort and
the meaning that it is provided to so many over the years?
This is the great debate about art and how it ought to be interpreted.
If you found out today that everything that you thought you knew
about this iconic image was actually wrong,
would you take it off your wall?
Or, would you accept that the value in a piece of art isn't merely
derived from the knowledge of how it was made or who made it?