CARL RUNGIUS, ANIMAL PAINTER. 



\Y. T. HORNADAY. 



In February, 1895, while walking down 

 Fifth Avenue, I looked toward the window 

 of Avery's Gallery, and saw a big picture 

 which drew me across the street as if I were 

 on the wrong end of a lariat. It was a pro- 

 file view, life size, of the head and neck of a 

 big bull moose, rushing through Maine 

 woods in winter. The strength, aye, the 

 majesty of it was tremendous; and as I 

 gazed at it in a fair paralysis of surprise, I 

 said to the wife upon my arm, 



" Great heavens! Who has dared to do 

 this thing — and in America?" 



She said, with brevity and sense, 



" Inquire within." 



Avery's man said, 



" That is the work of a young German, 

 named Carl Rungius, of 107 Kent Street, 

 Brooklyn, who has recently come to this 

 country to paint our wild animals. He 

 painted that picture in the woods of Maine." 



For several good and sufficient reasons, 

 the soul within me was glad. 



America is very poorly supplied with 

 painters of wild animals. Up to the present 

 hour the people who decide what shall fill 

 our art galleries and picture shows would 

 rather have the walls covered with any old 

 rubbish than to admit even the best wild 

 animal pictures that our best animal paint- 

 ers can produce. The combine of art-gal- 

 lery curators, hanging committees who can- 

 not paint animals, and the patrons of art 

 who find no good pictures in America, is 

 so strong against wild animal paintings gen- 

 erally that thus far our artists have been ut- 

 terly unable to make any- headway against 

 it. In 1897 the attitude of the New York 

 Academy of Design toward an important 

 animal picture offered for its fall exhibition 

 was utterly indefensible. The men who can't 

 paint wild animals dare not admit to their 

 exhibitions the work of men who can. 



Up to this time, the American animal 

 painter who would sell his work for money 

 has found it necessary to paint in black and 

 white, for the publishers of magazines and 

 books, or not at all. Even Thompson, who 

 is crowded with orders so long as he is will- 

 ing to produce illustrations, finds his oil 

 paintings neglected by picture buyers. It 

 has been very discouraging; but I think the 

 end of the boycott is nearly at hand. 



The coming of Carl Rungius (in 1894) 

 to reside in America, and paint American 

 wild animals and scenery, was an event of 

 real importance. During the 4 years he has 

 been with us, I have closely watched his 

 methods, and now I know he is a man of 

 genius and power. Men who admire our t 

 wild animals cannot become acquainted" 



with him a moment too soon. Wherever 

 they are seen, no matter what the subject, 

 his pictures command instant attention and 

 study. From every one who sees his work 

 for the first time, quick as a flash comes the 

 startled question, "Who painted that?" 



One reason why I like Rungius is because 

 he paints animals as I would paint them — if 

 I could. He has spent 3 seasons in the 

 Teton country — the grandest portion of the 

 Rocky mountains — working like a beaver 

 with rifle and knife, palette and brush. Each 

 year he has brought back about 50 studies 

 in color of big game and scenery, and half 

 a ton of specimens to use in his studio. If 

 the wealthy sportsmen and art patrons of 

 America only knew what is in this man, he 

 would have orders to burn! 



I like Rungius because I know that in 

 painting our Western animals he will do full 

 justice to the splendid panoramas of peak 

 and plain, canyon and stream, prairie, bad 

 lands, rocks and trees, which surround them. 

 His handling of colors is, for an animal 

 painter, really wonderful ; but he acquired it 

 by hard study under Paul Meyerheim in the 

 Berlin Academy of Fine Arts. His 2 large 

 paintings, each 36 x 56 inches, of moose and 

 elk beside glacial lakes in the Rocky moun- 

 tains, are simply superb, and well worth the 

 very modest $500 asked for each. 



Mr. Rungius was born in Berlin, 29 years 

 ago, the son of a clergyman, and, as a good 

 son of the Fatherland has served his term in 

 the German army, rising to the grade of 

 Lieutenant. He is unmarried, looks 6 years 

 younger than he is, and personally is as de- 

 lightful as his work. He possesses all the 

 frank enthusiasm of a boy, and so far from 

 taking himself too seriously, he is never sat- 

 isfied with any of his pictures after they are 

 a year old. The last time I saw him he as- 

 sured me he is only just beginning to learn 

 to put enough work into the foregrounds of 

 his pictures. 



At this moment, all that Carl Rungius 

 needs for his career is sufficient sale for his 

 pictures to keep up the supply of " divine 

 afflatus." Even the most divine genius can- 

 not live, move and have a being on praise 

 alone. Rungius must sell pictures, or he 

 cannot paint. Those who are acquainted 

 with his work are anxious that his efforts 

 on our grand game shall be so successful, 

 financially, that he can go on under favorable 

 conditions — and I wish the same support for 

 Ernest Seton Thompson. 



Partly as a matter of duty toward a man 

 who is doing such commendable work in 

 the delineation of our finest animals, and 

 partly for the benefit of his readers, the pub- 



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