Hopper’s country settings often attenuated with man-made constructs are exemplary projections of his unerring eye for dynamic composition — farmhouses, roads, railroad tracks and bridges, a gas station or lighthouse — elements integrated into a singular American vision for bringing the landscape within the scope of twentieth century modernism. But Hopper was equally adept at creating a resplendent pure landscape unbroken by inorganic forms. A watercolor such as Spindly Locusts further burnishes his reputation for pitch-perfect compositions and one that relies on the palpable volume and weight of his forms as well as strong patterns of light and shadow. Hopper is among the most faithful adherents to the ideals of nineteenth-century realism of artists from Courbet to Eakins and Anschutz, Henri to Sloan, Bellows and Kent. His claim that “my aim in painting has always been the most exact transcription possible of my most intimate impressions of nature” is a diehard realist’s statement. It supports the idea Spindly Locusts is an accurate, if personal impression of the setting and lighting conditions observed that summer day. We know that it depicts a scene along Pamet Point Road 4 miles south of their studio-home and not far from Willfleet where the Hoppers shopped for their groceries or met friends to dine at the local restaurant.

One of only eight watercolors from 1936, Spindly Locusts succeeds brilliantly in applying the dramatic effect of raking sunlight that falls across a hillside illuminating its motionless forms. As usual, Hopper began the watercolor with a quick pencil sketch and filled it in with washes of color imbuing it with a sense of ala prima immediacy. The presumption is that the view is south-southwesterly and that it is late morning shortly before the sun rises to its apogee at noon. Whether the gable of a New England house or the canopy of a willow, form and structure are conveyed with the drama of light, and here in Spindly Locusts the most formidable display of that potential effect is the mushroom-shaped canopy of the tree on the left side of the picture plane. Perhaps it is an oak or a cedar, that is not important, but on the strength of its backlit presence and the way it anchors the entire picture, it is the keynote element that functions just as a farmhouse with a pitched roof might within the composition.

There are certainly other American artists whose watercolors have as much gravitas as their oils within their oeuvre— Homer, Sargent, and Marin come to mind. But it is not farfetched to suggest that, given that a watercolor in the strictest sense is merely a wash in color where the paper is the means by which light is revealed, the transparent style not only suited Hopper’s deepest striving to seek luminosity first but may have profoundly impacted the way in which he approached his work in oil.