By Holly Taylor, Sylvanian Staff, Southeastern Pennsylvania Group
Somewhere in the liminal space below the shifting cloud cover and above the slopes of the Delaware Water Gap, we are suspended. Farther down are rounded patches of light and shadow; a largely unspoiled, rolling burnished expanse rises over the busy human striving of the interstate, which almost imperceptibly finds its route across other paths cut over millions of years of geological time.
Charles Schmidt’s 2017 Delaware Water Gap series of aerial landscapes provokes contemplation of the significance of human endeavor, time and the natural world. Sit long enough, and one can imagine zooming in ever closer to the big-rig drivers turning onto exit ramps and the commuters merging, changing lanes or idling in gridlock — each immersed in the immediacy of the concerns of the day, the moment, and the near future. But high above, where we are transfixed, those lives and their stories are absorbed in a longer moment, where events are clocked in eons rather than hours or minutes.
Distinguished as a figure painter, Charles Schmidt embarked on this landscape series after a prestigious career that included a lengthy professorship at Philadelphia’s Tyler School of Art and several major commissions from US government agencies. His 1987 mural portrait memorializing the crew lost in the space shuttle Challenger tragedy is situated in the Brumidi Corridors of the U.S. Capitol as part of the Senate’s permanent collection. Completing eight painting commissions by the space agency, Schmidt had access to NASA projects and scientists from vantage points inaccessible to the general public. “One of the paintings was the launch of STS9; I was there for the launch and was on the roof of the vehicle assembly building, about 52 stories, and the painting is 18 X 140 inches, a wide angle view from the top of the building, so you could see all the way around the landscape. In the distance is a little tiny dot, which is the space shuttle going up, so the idea was, how important that is to us right now — and yet how timeless everything else was. I think that kind of played into this series on the Delaware Water Gap as well, the idea that it’s not insignificant, but has limited significance for a period of time or use, and then it’s gone; there’s transience in some of what’s in these paintings.” That transience can be felt in the dynamic light, shadow and merging colors that feature so prominently in the Delaware Water Gap series, where human endeavor is an integral part, but is not the center of the viewer’s focus.
Inspired by helicopter excursions taken while working on a series of aerial views of Mt. Vesuvius and Mt. St. Helens, the artist then chartered an aircraft closer to home to explore the Delaware Water Gap. “I realized how different things looked from the altitude, not a high altitude like on a jet, but the altitude where we were at; it was amazing what I could see and the way I could see it, which is why I decided to do the same with the Delaware Water Gap, because I’ve long been fascinated by that place, because for me it’s not that far to go, and I got to thinking, what would it look like from above?” Chartering a plane at a small local airport, he politely declined a skydiver’s offer to borrow his camera and take the photos on his behalf on a jump down.
Once in flight, Schmidt discovered that the state boundary between New Jersey and Pennsylvania was written on the landscape. “When I got up there, I realized that on the New Jersey side of the river, there was this wilderness - I couldn’t see any human habitation, and on the Pennsylvania side, above the Gap, was this elaborate pattern of roads and buildings and openings and so forth, so that’s what really moved me — this contrast between one side of the river and the other, because when you’re down there, you don’t think about that. Then I realized how interesting Interstate 80 was, because it puts this straight line right through there, and again, you don’t think about that, but I realized how important that was as a foil to what was going on around it — all these patterns and openings. I was very moved by it, so then I did it again later in the year when it was Fall, and it was different because the colors were so different — yellow and orange, and I saw it in a different way. So, what I’d love to do is a flyover when there’s snow on the ground, and it would be really interesting to see it bare like that. I think if it were bare or snowy, both sides of the river would become much more alike, because that would change the relationship.” Geological boundaries, overlaid with those established to serve the human concerns of the moment, determine and at times obscure the course of I-80 at this altitude. The addition of a seasonal thick blanket of snow could obscure even our carefully considered state lines.
The resulting aerial landscapes from these flyovers offer perspective, escapism and even a sense of risk in the face of the natural wonders that we pass at eye level, perhaps thoughtlessly, each day on our commutes. Not unlike how it must feel to see the Earth from space, we are at once removed from the bustling below, and connected to something larger, older and awe-inspiring at these heights. A fundamental human yearning and relationship with nature underpins these views; as the artist remarked, “There’s a passion for finding a natural world combined with or away from our own day to day world — I’ve always had that since I was a kid.” Certainly, many viewers would recognize themselves in that sentiment.
To view more of Charles Schmidt’s artwork, click here.
An upcoming exhibition of Schmidt’s work, including pieces from the Delaware Water Gap series, will be on view in May 2022 at Church Street Gallery in West Chester, PA.
Images shared with kind permission from the artist.
This blog was included as part of the March 2022 Sylvanian newsletter. Please click here to check out more articles from this edition!