I was at the tail end of an auction a couple years ago, waiting around for some artwork that had captured my eye. I was there with my art-loving friend Kristin, it was late and we were among a handful of holdouts, wandering around to see what finds could be had for a pittance.

We stood impatiently as the auctioneer tried to literally give away a lovely black grand piano. It was huge. Probably just needed a little tuning – along with a big truck to haul it home and a big parlor to hold it. I’ve always wanted a grand piano in a room with music-inspired artwork where I could play snatches of jazz. I’ve even taken piano lessons, but learning comes hard with age. The piano was fin-a-l-l-y sold – for $100.

Then it was on to the rest of the art on the walls. The piece I wanted wasn’t a large piece at all; it was rather small, and the colors were a bit awkward. But what struck me was the sentiment on the back, written by a young artist-in-training in ink. I could hear his (or her) voice in the words:

VIEW FROM MY WINDOW

CLINTON ST, PHILLY

WHILE IN ART SCHOOL

Philadelphia School of Industrial Art
Broad & Pine

It was signed C. Raughley 1940.

The scene was one of Philadelphia’s ubiquitous red-brick rowhouse communities with chimneys, a storefront with awning and what looked like an alley, the wall above it lined with an iron fence for security. The scene had the feel of winter, with its dark purples and grays. It wasn’t a brilliant work of art but sometimes the beauty is not necessarily in the paint.

Who was this young artist? Was he living with his parents? An art student away from home? Something about the scene outside his window captivated him? What in particular? I may never know, but his sharing of what he saw on that particular day in 1940 moved me. We all stare out a window from time to time, enamored at what nature (or man, as in Raughley’s case) puts in front of us. Raughley captured his in a watercolor. For those of us without artistic talent, the memory stays in our heads.

I was not able to find out anything about C. Raughley. But I did find that the school itself began as a part of the Pennsylvania Museum School of Industrial Art, founded in 1876 as a museum and art school, according to Wikipedia. In 1893, the school moved to Broad and Pine Streets. Students were taught such courses as drawing and painting, along with textiles, furniture design, pottery and other crafts. The aim was to prepare them for work in industry.

The two were separated in 1938 into the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Philadelphia Museum School of Industrial Art. The renamed school is now part of the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, one of the oldest in the country.

I also found a reference to the school in a 1900 “Report on Technical Education” by Bernard McEvoy. He extolled the textile curriculum and its aim to produce students to work in that industry as a career. The textile school eventually became a separate entity and was renamed Philadelphia University.  The report also mentioned that there were drawing and design courses at the School of Industrial Art.

I got Raughley’s painting for $35 at the auction. It’s sitting on an easel in my living room. It still has its bright orange mat and black frame (I’m not sure if they’re the originals), but I can’t seem to bring myself to have the painting re-framed. There’s something utilitarian about the framing that won’t allow me to alter it.

It’s not the first time I’ve come across anonymous artists, and I get a thrill at each new discovery. What new artists have you found lately?

Related posts:

1. Illustrator Ellen Pyle and the Saturday Evening Post
2. Charles Harrison & the View-Master
3. African American art
4. A family’s collection