The Met’s New Exhibition Reflects Themes Prevalent in The Grapes of Wrath

 

Rural Electrification Administration poster series, 1937

Dress inspired by Betsy Ross, 1929

Miner Joe, 1942

By Paige Lesperance

Yesterday, a beautifully sunny but chilly Saturday, I decided to trek to the Upper East Side, in search of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and a very specific exhibit it's showing right now. The exhibit, entitled Art for the Millions: American Culture and Politics in the 1930s, showcases artifacts of various mediums that reflect Americans’ “search for their cultural identity during the Great Depression, a period marked by divisive politics, threats to democracy, and intensified social activism, including a powerful labor movement,” as the Met’s official website states. 

Walking into the exhibition, the first thing you see is an array of vintage travel posters from the era, which all advertise various places across the country including some of its most famous national parks and astounding natural wonders. Moving along, the focus narrows in on one specific event that was a great spectacle for Americans in the years 1933 and 1939, and that was the World’s Fair. In 1933, it came to Chicago and in 1939, New York City. This event was highlighted by designers of the exhibition as something fantastical, through the showcasing of a couple of vivid posters featuring bright city lights and tall structures like skyscrapers and ferris wheels. It really promoted the sort of escapist ideals that became associated with cities during the Great Depression, especially through the eyes of rural farm workers and laborers, who especially villainized big, capitalist corporations–essential facets of a grand city. 

Moving along, my attention was brought next to the display of posters, artifacts, and even an article of clothing that marked the epic contrast of ideals which occurred between groups of Americans during this time period. More and more Americans were becoming drawn to the city, which marked for them an ascent into modernism and an acceptance of easier living, with the help of technological features. One part of the exhibit was an array of stylized posters which each featured a backdrop of a singular color, and in the foreground the silhouette of an innovation such as a tap running water, a lightbulb, and a radio. Nearby, there was an actual radio from the time put out on display, next to a mini cocktail set and a desk lamp. Many of these aesthetically pleasing objects were a privilege that the majority of Americans during this time just could not afford. And it’s safe to say that the average rural American worker of the 1930s would have scoffed at these things being branded as being of the utmost importance. One of the most significant artifacts from this exhibition, in my opinion, was a dress from 1929 that might seem simple if you were gazing at it from far away, due to its boxy shape and long sleeves. However, when you look at it up close, you can see that it combines modernism and traditionalism with it featuring a mixture of city-esque buildings, stars and stripes all etched into the fabric. According to the plaque that described it, the dress was inspired by the work of Betsy Ross, the colonial-era upholstery designer who became famous for designing the American flag. The plaque also mentioned how there was a surge in colonial inspiration among fashion designers at the beginning of the 1930s, as the country entered a time of despair and hardship and wanted to remember the ideals of freedom set by their Founding Fathers. 

It is probably obvious at this point but the work that I’m connecting this exhibition to is John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. The novel is probably the definitive Great Depression work, with its focus on a large, poor family of farmers and laborers being forced to migrate from Oklahoma to California in hopes of alleviating their economic struggles. So much of what was on display at the Met conveyed the common hardships shared by rural Americans in the ‘30s like the Joads, as well as the perspective of the source of their troubles– the capitalist corporations making the city their symbol, and being driven by monetary gains. Interestingly, the picture used by the Met to promote this exhibition was a painting called “Miner Joe,” from 1942, and it depicts the weathered face of a lower-class male miner looking off to the side with a dejected gaze. It reminded me so much of Henry Fonda’s depiction of Tom Joad, right down to his hardened facial features and glaring eyes. Everything about the physical appearance of the painting’s subject indicates a difficult life marked by very demanding and laborious work with little pay in return, and this is what Tom Joad and his family had to suffer through as the banks began driving them off their land.