MASTERPIECE #2980

Benjamin West, American-British

The Artist and His Family, Who Frankly Could Give a Sh*t, ca. 1772

Oil on canvas

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mabrndt
mabrndt
2 years ago

Info, or links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here (archived if necessary), here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here (can be read in full for free on Fridays), here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.

mabrndt
mabrndt
15 days ago
Reply to  mabrndt

Archive of the webpage pointed to by the 4th here link, if necessary.

Solstice*1947
Solstice*1947
11 months ago

/// Ben West’s clan gathers glum, none conversing.
(At least two sit there silently cursing.)
The new babe is adored
but they’re all deathly bored.
They can’t wait ‘til he wakes and starts nursing.

/// Watching baby get fed is less boring
than to watch him sleep (not even snoring).
Ben and son ain’t impressed
by a glimpse of Mom’s breast,
but the others this peek ain’t ignoring.

/// Betsy doesn’t appear very busty,
and at breastfeeding she has grown rusty.
She has coin in her purse
to engage a wet nurse
who’ll be plain and make no lookers lusty.

/// Wife and baby wear virginal white.
Eldest son looks down at Mama’s right.
Dad and brother, (those bums),
sit and twiddle their thumbs.
while, in lilac, the artist’s a sight.

/// Painter West has moved up in the world.
Note his wig, richly powdered and curled.
The silk fabrics he wears,
(ditto Ben’s wife and heirs),
are embroidered, bejeweled and hand-pearled.

/// Born a Quaker, his rise seems absurd.
He now talks with the King, George the third.
Ben’s American spouse
and his large, stylish house,
show which way of life this West preferred.

/// On their newborn, it’s clear Betsy dotes.
Father Benjamin’s so proud, he “floats.”
From their tired, vacant stares,
the two seated in chairs,
are, though Quakers, not feeling their oats.

/// Unlike most Quaker fathers and sons,
they have weapons a pacifist shuns.
They’ve been “puffed up” inside,
but from shooting, not pride.
They’re Puffed Rice and Puffed Wheat— Shot From Guns.

Solstice*1947
Solstice*1947
11 months ago

Thoughts of the three grown men, right to left:

1) “When did they last have the tops of their hats cleaned?”

2) “Surely, my son, the famous painter, will portray me with
a flattering image.”

3) ”I’m only his half brother, and now he has a second son?
There goes any chance of an inheritance.”

Last edited 11 months ago by Solstice*1947
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