Interior, Model Reading
By Edward Hopper, 1925
Realism
Somewhere along the yawning interstate that cuts through Santa Fe’s rammed earth skyline, Edward and Josephine Hopper shared a rare moment of happiness.
They were out looking for inspiration, having flown their nest in the dense, verdant forests of the northeast to cruise around the American southwest. While Edward didn’t find what he was looking for, Josephine regarded the western red rocks and sprawling skies as incomparable muses.
Out west she was contented and, for a seldom moment of peace, Edward didn’t feel threatened by that. As a whole, Edward Hopper was a shitty person who painted well. To read that story I recommend checking out his other painting, Morning in a city, or Josephine’s work, Obituary.
But disdain for him only changes the context of his work, not the subject. In this painting, like in most everything he created after their marriage in 1924, Josephine is the subject. Hopper’s work gives us glimpses into the shadowy mind of a broken-hearted dreamer in various states of reflection. It’s not Edward’s perspective per se, that makes this painting interesting, it’s the moment he’s looking at. All he did and had to do was imprint the image in front of him onto canvas.
Josephine’s childhood was shaped by two equally formidable forces: chaos and books. She had largely negligent parents who left her to figure life out on her own accord. In the absence of unsolicited guidance, Josephine learned about life through books. As she lived more of it, though, she became disappointed to know that life is rarely anything like a book.
Still, she used them frequently to escape a world where she found little “inner gladness”.
All of this is to say what’s wonderful about this painting: it’s real. So often we see images of a woman in repose that sexualizes her distracted, but implicitly available body. Making it seem as if all women do with their spare time is hang around, waiting for a man to lust after them.
This painting though has an almost novel version of authentic tranquility. She’s not a manifestation of what Edward wanted her to be, she’s a genuine person finding comfort in the rented silence of an interstate hotel. An unrestrained thicket of curls threatens her vision, focused unflinchingly on the book in her hands.
It’s refreshingly relatable.
One of my favorite subtleties in this painting is what’s reflected in the mirror.
Her face isn’t in the glass because it’s not her reflection she’s looking at – it’s the top of her head. For as small a detail as that is, a woman ignoring her reflection (for the sake of a book no less) isn’t staggeringly common.
Normally when we think of women in front of mirrors, our minds take us to images like Auguste Toulmouche’s 1889, Vanity:
Or this
Interior, (Model Reading) isn’t revolutionary by any stretch of the imagination. Edward Hopper did not paint this to humanize the feminine experience with still shots of a women’s authentic self. As previously established, he was a garbage person. But he painted the scenes of his life well. It just so happens that this chapter of their odyssey out west is about an interesting woman taking a moment to herself.
