Lumberville, Pa., resident Robert Beck documents life in oil.
By: Jodi Thompson
Hurricane Dennis was whipping Rehobeth Beach, Del., with gale-force winds. Most people wisely evacuated the shoreline, maybe stopping for a quick snapshot before seeking shelter.
Not artist Robert Beck. The Lumberville, Pa., resident found a somewhat protected space between two houses along the beach. He set up his French easel and painted a 4-by-10 inch panel of the blustery scene. Back in his Lambertville studio, he transposed the small painting onto a large panel that fully captures the force of the storm.
Most people take photographs to record their travels or remember an event. The only use Mr. Beck has for a camera is as subject matter for a painting. Mr. Beck documents life in oil.
He’ll share his travels and experiences with Roadwork, more than 40 paintings that reflect our culture at the turn of this century. The exhibition runs through November at his painting studio on the second floor of the Masonic Hall on Bridge Street in Lambertville. The 13-foot walls of the 19th century building will bear images of our life in the 21st century.
"Fifty years from now, they’ll be able to go through my slides and say, ‘Here’s the turn of the century,’" Mr. Beck says. "It’s about us at the turn of our century. What we surround ourselves with, what we do, what our environment is. It’s a look at us."
Other than recording life, Mr. Beck doesn’t have a genre. His subjects run the gamut from the box office of the County Theater in Doylestown to the buzzing set of Good Morning America in New York City.
"It’s hard to find a place with a higher energy level or intensity or immediacy on the face of the Earth than a live broadcast from ABC," he says. "It was just crazy."
Perhaps not quite as crazy as running to the scene of a fire on North Union Street, easel in hand.
"Showing up and setting up, like a journalist would, like a photographer would," he says. "Going in, looking around and saying, ‘What’s the here, here?’ Determining what it is I want to paint, setting up and capturing it under severe constraints. Over the period of a couple hours, so much changes. The light changes, things come and go."
The situations in which Mr. Beck puts himself have required him to develop what he calls his own mental triage. He must quickly consider his approach to the painting based on what he expects to change as the work progresses. It may seem odd to paint a fire scene, although no one would think twice about photographing it.
Other subject matter Mr. Beck chooses to paint would not even warrant a photograph by most people. For example, the closed gray doors of an empty elevator or a body in an open casket, festively strewn with flower garlands. Not many photographs are snapped at funerals.
Although plenty of people might stop at Archie’s Hot Dog Truck along Route 29, they wouldn’t expect to see a painting of the truck dappled with sunlight.
We’ve all seen trees felled to make room for new homes. Mr. Beck captures that too-familiar scene in oil. The huge wood chipper feeds entire trees into its own noisy jaw, producing a pile of sawdust higher than itself. Trees, temporarily safe across the road, stretch their shadows toward their former neighbors in silent witness.
"Subject matter for my paintings is not typical postcard or calendar pictures," Mr. Beck says. "I don’t like the fact that there are certain taboos. One of the things that gets me really excited is to go into the middle of where something is happening, an event that has a definite time limit, has fear, environmental constraints. The last place you’d think a guy could walk in, set up an easel and paint, I find to be very challenging and I enjoy that challenge."
Mr. Beck feels he has an eye toward the intended viewer, although he insists the market does not dictate his art.
"I do want (the viewer) to be able to understand my language," he says.
A story accompanies each panel. Mr. Beck enjoys writing about art and artists in addition to creating his own artwork. He publishes a monthly e-newsletter with essays about his work and features on other artisans.
"I like words, I like crafting," he says. "I like crafting images. I do it in paint. I do it in words."
Last year, he spent 28 days on the road, covering 37,000 miles and producing 44 paintings from scenes of life in Nebraska, North and South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. Mr. Beck said he wanted to travel to a foreign country where they speak English, and he believes that is what he found out west. His "vacation album" includes a crowd awaiting a trim in the "You Are Next Barbershop and Guns," New Castle, Wyo. Although the sites were foreign, the schedule was not. Even on "vacation," Mr. Beck rises, eats and paints, whether in Bucks County, the West or New England.
"Just the scenery changes," he says. "The beauty is how free-form my life is, because that suits me.
"I’m pretty much involved in what I do around the clock. I have to come out of painting to get back into regular life, because I’m in painting mode all the time."
The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts graduate owns several French easels, which are easily folded and carried. One easel has permanent residence in his truck, coming out only when a scene begs to be painted on the way home at 11 p.m.
Don’t mourn the waste of a beautiful studio. Mr. Beck does utilize the space. He paints larger works from his smaller "on the road" work. He produces figure and portraiture art in his studio with a wall of north-facing windows. Mostly, his studio offers a place where people who are looking for him can find him. He doesn’t make an effort to attract tourists. His regular clients stop by just to see what he might be painting now, often purchasing a work before it’s completed.
Mr. Beck’s studio hosts salon and charity events during the winter months. He wants to serve the community by documenting daily life, much like a photographer.
"There’s a certain snapshot quality to them," he says of his work. "The difference lies in the fact that a photographer is stuck with what’s in front of him."
Countering the argument that photographers can make use of digital enhancement and cropping, he pulls out the big guns.
"I can be very selective," he says. "I can change relationships a lot better than (photographers) can. I can create color harmonies. I can create mood and understanding and direct somebody through a picture. My manipulation of the image is a lot deeper than Photoshop. I do it while I’m standing there.
"I’m very good at understanding and recording those pieces of information that one gets when one initially sees something. And I don’t get caught up in detail. Although my paintings look detailed, there’s a specific train of information that leads the viewer through their own discovery process."
A movie screen from the back row of the balcony at the Newtown Theatre, a lone diner at the Whitehall Inn in Camden, Maine, or the cow barn at the Middletown Grange Fair in Wrightstown Mr. Beck welcomes those interested in such images of life to make an appointment to stop by his studio during November. There, viewers can hear his voice through his work and in the stories behind it.
"I try to build a painting so that a person discovers it as I discovered it," he says. "Instead of spelling it out for them, I take them to the point where they can interpret it for themselves and give them just enough to start their brain working. Sometimes they find things there I didn’t put there because they take the next step."
Roadwork will be on display at the Painting Studio of Robert Beck, 21 Bridge St., Lambertville, N.J., through November. Hours: by appointment. For information, call (609) 397-5679. On the Web: www.robertbeck.artspan.com

