George Fuller (painter) - Works

Works

  • The Plains Between "The Bars" and South Deerfield, c. 1836-1838, oil on canvas, Addison Gallery of American Art, Andover, Massachusetts
  • Cupid, 1854
  • Negro Nurse with Child, 1861
  • At the Bars, 1865
  • Ideal Head of a Boy (George Spencer Fuller)"", c. 1867–1873, oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art New York City
  • The Romany Girl, 1877-1879, oil on canvas, Addison Gallery of American Art, Andover, Massachusetts
  • Shearing the Donkey, 1877-1879
  • And She Was a Witch, 1877–1884, oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art New York City
  • Turkey Pasture in Kentucky, 1878
  • The Dandelion Girl, 1879
  • The Quadroon, 1880, oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art New York City
  • The Gathering of Simples, 1880
  • Sketch of the Deerfield Valley, c. 1880-1884, chalk on blue-grey wove paper, Addison Gallery of American Art, Andover, Massachusetts
  • Portrait of Mary C. Hardy as a Child, 1881, oil on canvas, Addison Gallery of American Art, Andover, Massachusetts
  • Winifred Dysart, 1881
  • Nydia, 1882, oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art New York City
  • Priscilla Fauntleroy, 1882
  • Psyche, 1882
  • November, 1882-1884
  • Fedalma, 1883-1884, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.
  • Arethusa, 1884
  • A Nun at Confession
  • Boy and Bird
  • By the Wayside
  • Girl with a Calf
  • Ideal Head, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.
  • Reapers Resting

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    “The mind, in short, works on the data it receives very much as a sculptor works on his block of stone. In a sense the statue stood there from eternity. But there were a thousand different ones beside it, and the sculptor alone is to thank for having extricated this one from the rest.”
    —William James (1842–1910)

    “The slightest living thing answers a deeper need than all the works of man because it is transitory. It has an evanescence of life, or growth, or change: it passes, as we do, from one stage to the another, from darkness to darkness, into a distance where we, too, vanish out of sight. A work of art is static; and its value and its weakness lie in being so: but the tuft of grass and the clouds above it belong to our own travelling brotherhood.”
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