Fruit of Detroit

Painter and illustrator Rich Harrington brings out the beauty in rusted old cars.

By: Susan Van Dongen
   Discarded DeSotos, cast-off Cadillacs and rejected Ramblers are all subject matter for the acrylic and watercolor paintings of Newtown, Pa., resident Rich Harrington. He gets emotionally involved when he sees an example of "the fruit of Detroit" rusting in a field or garage or on a city street.
   "I think of them when they were new," says Mr. Harrington, speaking during a break from his illustration class at Moore College of Art and Design in Philadelphia. "For example, I imagine a Chrysler that was a dreamboat for someone at one point when it was manufactured, all nice and shiny. How did it end up this way? I even think of the people who worked in the plants and built the cars. What were they like? And who were the owners? Who were the souls who owned this car?
   "When I find a car I want to paint, I try to do some research if I can," he continues. "I found one guy in upstate New York who used to own a 1958 Plymouth, and he told me his story. It was the first car he owned after getting out of the Army and it had nice big fins. He felt bad when the car was going out of style but it was wearing out too. He kept it around as long as he could, though, because it reminded him of his freedom from the service."
   Mr. Harrington and his friend and fellow artist Alan Klawans both have an interest in "the lesser detritus of American life and industry," as Mr. Harrington writes in his artist’s statement. "(It) litters sidewalks, flea markets and vacant lots. But is it garbage, junk, blight?"
   For the two, it’s the foundation and inspiration for their art and the subject of American Iron, on view Aug. 10 through Sept. 2. The joint show at the Artists’ Gallery in Lambertville features Mr. Harrington’s watercolors and acrylics and digital prints by Mr. Klawans.
   Growing up in Utica, N.Y., Mr. Harrington experienced brutal winters where the highways seemed to be salted from November to April. Perhaps that is what brought the old cars, trucks, construction and farm equipment to an early demise.
   "The weather really played havoc," Mr. Harrington says. "It seemed like cars only lasted three or four years back then. Cars are definitely built better now, the exteriors hold up to the elements and the engines are superior. But they used to have a personality and you don’t see that so much anymore."
   The Harrington family did not own a classic land shark coupe. Five kids in the family meant station wagons were the preferred mode of transportation. Mini vans and sport utility vehicles were just a twinkle in an engineer’s eye at the time. Mr. Harrington fondly remembers a 1958 Rambler, pink with fake wood trim on the sides.
   "It stayed on the road for a long time," he says. "I’ve always thought our old cars and trucks and things deserved a better fate. I’ve drawn and painted them since I was a boy in my own attempt to ‘save’ them. It’s the way I preserve these artifacts from the ravages of rust, and the ultimate fate of the car crusher."
   Like many a little boy, Rich often saw monsters and dinosaurs in the bulldozers and other construction equipment, with their giant "talons" and gaping jaws. In fact, he’s planning a future show of mechanical things that resemble monsters.
   "I always found them to be very striking, these great machines that could move earth," he says. "I wondered why they were just being left in a field to rust, why they were obsolete."
   Mr. Harrington’s paintings, as well as Mr. Klawans’ work, speak to their shared interest in preservation and recycling. Mr. Harrington hates to see things wasted. Incidentally, he is fascinated with Cuba and the ability its inhabitants have to keep the vintage vehicles running.
   "Painting old cars is also my way to collect them," he says. "I don’t have room to keep them and I’m not any good at fixing them, so this is how I collect cars. I remember being out with my family on a drive and I’d see this car or truck — just sitting in the same spot — and I’d always look for it. It would become my car. Eventually it would be towed away and I would really miss it. Things like this are an eyesore to some but they were landmarks to me. Maybe people feel the same way about old buildings."
   Trained as an illustrator at Syracuse University, Mr. Harrington works in his Barking Beagle Studio from the many photographs he takes of abandoned vehicles. He prefers acrylics and watercolors because "…as an illustrator, I’m used to working fast and I find them quick mediums," he says. "Also, in college I couldn’t afford oils so I learned how to paint with acrylics."
   Perusing his Web site (www.barking-beaglestudio.com) one finds a variety of whimsical illustrations for young people’s books from a number of publishers, including recent work for Scholastic. A real beagle was the inspiration for the studio’s name. Mr. Harrington shared the space with a "very nice beagle who barked a lot, especially when the phone rang," he says.
   There are at least three "Rich Harringtons" who are illustrators but on his Web site, Mr. Harrington writes, "This is the Rich Harrington with a dog."
   "Unfortunately, I’m the worst of the three," he says, jokingly.
   The illustrations of beagles show hip dogs playing rock guitar and surfing — an homage to the classic kids’ book Go Dog Go by P.D. Eastman.
   "I always liked that book so I incorporated it into some of my pictures," he says.
   One of the more recent additions to the membership of Artists’ Gallery, Mr. Harrington is an assistant professor at Moore College of Art. He names Edward Hopper as a major influence because of Hopper’s use of long shadows and subtle lighting, as well as his choice of desolate subject matter. The stark paintings of American-born Ralston Crawford also appeal to Mr. Harrington. So does the photo-realism of Ralph Goings.
   "In the ’70s, he was painting in upstate New York where we were living," Mr. Harrington says. "He also did cars as well as commercial buildings. He did photo realistic things of ketchup and salt shakers and interiors of diners, just made these wonderful little paintings."
   Elected to the Society of Illustrators in 1996, and to the Philadelphia Sketch Club in 2004, Mr. Harrington’s work has been exhibited at several different locales, including the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Mass., the Newman Galleries in Philadelphia and the Society of Illustrators in New York City, to name a few.
   Mr. Klawans, who met Mr. Harrington as a fellow member of the Philadelphia Sketch Club, also hates to waste things and finds meaning in flotsam and jetsam that other people would call trash.
   "I consider the bubble gum wrappers, tomato can labels, movie tickets, antique papers and bits of metal and plastic to be of great importance in the visual vocabulary I use," he writes in his artist’s statement.
   Alongside of Mr. Harrington’s old car paintings are humorous descriptions collected and edited by his wife, Laurie.
   "We often find these descriptions online, things like ‘radio works, it’s in the trunk,’ or ‘engine bad, no seats, spare tires included,’" Mr. Harrington says. "When people see my paintings, it brings back memories. They’ll see a Studebaker and say, ‘My neighbor had one like that.’"
American Iron is on view at Artists’ Gallery, 32 Coryell St., Lambertville, Aug. 10-Sept. 2. Reception Aug. 11, 3-8 p.m. Gallery hours: Fri.-Sun. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. or by appointment. (609) 397-4588; www.lambertvillearts.com. Rich Harrington on the Web: www.barking-beaglestudio.com