Two weeks ago, we visited Plattekill Clove and witnessed a geological process called headward erosion. Last time, we visited the little red cabin at the top of Plattekill Clove. There we found the location where active headward erosion was going on at its maximum rate. But we found something else, just as important - the site where Hudson River School artist Richard William Hubbard did the lower half of one of his paintings in 1867. It has been called “The Top of Kaaterskill Falls – Autumn.” Another version of the same view has been called “A Mountain Stream.” That one dates to 1866. We immediately recognized that both titles would be greatly improved if they each mentioned Plattekill Clove and certainly not Kaaterskill Falls. That’s because both views were sketched at the very top of the former. Catching that mistake was most rewarding; it’s just the sort of thing we like to do. But our main focus took us back to that column we published two weeks ago. We were interested in the portrayal of the intense headward erosion that has long been going on right there at the top of the clove. Hubbard portrayed that in the lower half of this painting.
This week let’s look at the whole image; see our first illustration. Now you see the full view of Plattekill Clove stretching out in the near distance. The “near distance.” That was a problem; you can’t see the whole clove from the little red cabin site, at least not as Hubbard painted it. We hiked off a short distance on the nearby Yellow Trail and soon found a vantage point where, indeed, we could see the clove. Take a look at our second image. We are guessing that Hubbard worked right there way back when.
Today the view is cluttered by trees that probably weren’t there back when Hubbard visited. The clove is out there but it is so far away, isn’t it? And it looks so small, especially when compared to the full Hubbard painting. Did he really cheat that much? Well, yes, and - well no - this is something that we have seen a lot of with many Hudson River School artists. This painting is a composite. Hubbard sketched the lower half and then we think he climbed around and found that second vantage point. He sketched that one too. He brought his two sketches back to his studio and turned them into a single composite image. He had to change the scale of the two views to do this. This is not photography; this is art. In many ways Hubard’s composite, though technically incorrect, does a better job of portraying this particular landscape than something far more “accurate.” Great artists do this – they are entitled to do this.
Once again, we have tracked down a moment in the life of another renowned Hudson Valley School painter and seen that person at work. And, once again we have solved the mystery of its geologic origins. We have been doing a lot of work like this lately. This is the seventh time. So far, we have caught up twice with Thomas Cole, and one time each with Sanford Robinson Gifford, Susie Barstow, Harriet Cany Peale, Paul Weber and now Richard William Hubbard. Seven times we have stood where they stood; seven times we have looked where they looked, and seven times we have seen what they saw. Once again, we have found a significant fault with a painting’s title. The Hubbard painting should now be entitled “The Top of Plattekill Clove, Autumn.” This “work” has been fun stuff. We would like to call it professional research, except that it has been much too enjoyable. But one mystery remains unsolved. Did Richard William Hubbard, like us and perhaps Jack London, stay at the red cabin? Does anyone know if the old hotel books survive?
Contact the authors at randjtitus@prodigy.net. Join their facebook page “The Catskill Geologist.: Read their blogs at “thecatskillgeologist.com.”
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