Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors

The story of the Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors (ACPS) cannot be understood without first situating it within the larger cultural shockwave that modern art delivered to the United States in the early twentieth century. When modernism arrived in Chicago, it did so not with subtlety but with a force that disrupted long-standing artistic traditions and split the city’s art community into warring factions. This rupture ultimately led to the formation of the ACPS—an organization expressly committed to preserving conservative standards of artistic craftsmanship and aesthetic “sanity” in an era when many believed art was slipping into chaos.

Modern art’s dramatic entrance into Chicago was heralded by the 1913 Armory Show, whose touring exhibition challenged preconceived notions of what art should be. Newspaper coverage reflected a mixture of fascination, bewilderment, and moral panic. Harriet Monroe’s Chicago Tribune headline famously described the show as “BEDLAM IN ART,” invoking a term historically associated with an infamous London asylum for the mentally ill.[1] The metaphor was hardly accidental; to many observers, the works on display appeared not simply unconventional but pathological. Monroe doubled down the following day with another sensational headline, “Art Show Opens to Freaks,” editorializing that the exhibition “teems with the bizarre.”[2] Her rhetoric set the tone for how Chicagoans would receive this unprecedented visual vocabulary.

The public reaction intensified once the show opened at the Art Institute of Chicago (AIC) on March 24, 1913. Visitors lined up in droves, curious to witness the spectacle they had been primed to expect. Newspapers recorded the shock and hostility expressed by viewers who regarded Cubism, Futurism, and other avant-garde styles as evidence of cultural degeneration. One period critique even suggested that extended contemplation of such works might induce madness. The Chicago Record-Herald described the artwork as “blasphemous innovation,” pairing aesthetic judgment with moral condemnation.[3] Effa Webster of the Chicago Examiner asserted that the AIC had been "desecrated," calling the exhibition an “insult to a self-respecting Chicago public.”[4] These reactions illustrate the extent to which modern art was viewed as an affront—not merely to taste, but to civic identity.

Even AIC Director William M. R. French added to the chorus of disapproval, warning that the “bad influence” of the exhibition would linger in Chicago and that its “unartistic manner” and “immoral subjects” would not serve the public interest.[5] With this institutional resistance firmly in place, Chicago established itself early as a battleground in the fight over modern art.

Although the 1913 Armory Show opened eyes and closed minds, it was not until 1919 that modernism gained meaningful traction among younger Chicago artists. This shift occurred with the arrival of George Wesley Bellows, a prominent painter associated with the New York "Ashcan School," who joined the faculty of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC). Bellows, whose work had appeared in the Armory Show, was known for his experimental disposition and engagement with contemporary artistic developments.[6] His influence on Chicago’s students proved profound.

Guided by the teachings of Robert Henri, Bellows encouraged students to draw inspiration from the gritty realities of urban life rather than from academic conventions. Chicago, with its soot-laden air, overcrowded tenements, bustling industrial corridors, and ceaseless social dynamism, offered fertile ground for this approach. Bellows’ classes helped cultivate a cohort of young artists who embraced modernism not as a threat but as an opportunity for expressive renewal.[7] These artists would play pivotal roles in shaping the eventual conflict that led to the formation of the ACPS.

Tensions escalated in 1921 during the Annual Exhibition by American Artists at the AIC. Several younger, modern-leaning artists grew frustrated with the jury's conservative selections. When the artists requested a supplementary display area for works rejected from the official exhibition—and were denied—they organized their own counter-exhibition: Chicago’s first Salon des Refusés, held at the Rothschild department store.[8] Critics observed that the organizers harbored no personal animosity toward traditionalists but believed the public deserved exposure to the innovative work being marginalized by conservative jurors.[9]

The Salon’s bold advertising campaign—promising “the new, the different, the bizarre”—captured public attention and challenged the AIC’s cultural gatekeeping. Though sensational in tone, the exhibition marked a critical turning point: it signaled both the confidence of modernist artists and their growing willingness to openly contest institutional authority. Clarence J. Bulliet later emphasized the event’s significance, noting that the Salon’s popularity catalyzed the founding of the Chicago No-Jury Society of Artists, a group committed to bypassing conservative juries entirely.[10]

To understand the stakes of these conflicts, one must appreciate the importance of the Annual Exhibition by Artists of Chicago and Vicinity (C&V). Established in 1897 under the auspices of the Chicago Society of Artists (CSA), the C&V rapidly became a prestigious venue through which artists could secure recognition, sales, and awards.[11] By 1922, the exhibition offered nineteen major prizes, attracted reviews from all major newspapers, and hosted dozens of community groups.[12] Acceptance into the C&V could significantly advance an artist’s career; rejection could impede it. Consequently, control over the exhibition jury equated to tremendous influence over the direction of Chicago art.

By 1922–23, modernists had gained substantial influence within the CSA, prompting growing alarm among conservative members. A proposed change to jury procedures ignited controversy. Sculptor Emil Zettler and painters Carl Hoeckner and Gordon Saint Clair circulated a petition warning that the alterations would restrict the diversity of works accepted into the C&V.[13] Although only the provision for secret ballots was adopted, the debate exposed deep philosophical schisms.

It was against this backdrop that the conservative countermovement began to organize. In early 1923, approximately fifty artists founded a new group, initially called The Painters and Sculptors of Chicago, in direct response to what they saw as modernist domination of the C&V jury.[14] Lorado Taft, one of Chicago’s most respected sculptors, served as the group’s first president. The organization adopted the motto mens sana — “a healthy mind”—implicitly contrasting their supposedly rational, disciplined approach to art with the perceived madness of modernism. Their stated objective was to uphold “standards of craftsmanship” and “high ideals,” a clear rebuke to the avant-garde tendencies reshaping the Chicago art world.[15]

The timing of the group’s organization was no coincidence. The 1923 C&V had opened only days earlier, and conservative artists were already voicing their dissatisfaction.[16] Although the jury had been relatively balanced numerically, the three-person hanging committee consisted primarily of modernists[17]. Critics noticed the unconventional arrangement of the exhibition, and conservative Tribune critic Eleanor Jewett relayed a telling anecdote in which two businessmen mocked the “crazy pictures” and asserted that such works never sold. Jewett used the anecdote as a springboard for broader denunciations of modern art.[18]

The debate over jury selections came to a head when several abstract works by artist Flora Schofield were accepted into the 1923 exhibition. According to Bulliet, these pieces served as the "final triple wedge" that split the CSA apart:

Flora Schofield’s was once a fighting name in Chicago’s art circles. In 1923, three ‘abstracts’ she painted proved the final triple wedge that split asunder the old established Chicago Society of Artists, founded in 1888. The Chicago Society of Artists, retaining the name, is the present “radical” organization. The Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors broke away and has to be content with “traditions” dating back only to 1923.

It came about in this way. The old-line artists of Chicago kept themselves, year after year, in the official Chicago and vicinity shows at the Art Institute by a self-perpetuating jury of 21 artist members. Exhibiting artists voted for next year’s jury, and next year’s jury could be depended upon to choose for hanging the work of the “loyalists.”

In 1923, by a “coup,” certain radicals got onto the jury. Five “abstracts” by Flora Schofield came up for consideration, and three of them were voted into the show. An acrid debate ensured between Pauline Palmer, Mrs. Schofield’s personal friend but art foe, and Carl Hoeckner, champion of the “radicals.”

The fury of this debate was carried into the next business meeting of the Chicago Society of Artists, with the result that Mrs. Palmer and her friends withdrew and formed the new Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptor.[19]

A heated confrontation ensued between modernist advocate Carl Hoeckner and conservative leader Pauline Palmer, culminating in Palmer and her allies withdrawing from the CSA to form what would eventually become the ACPS.

This act of secession demonstrated the depth of frustration felt by traditionalists. One conservative artist lamented retrospectively that they had “gone asleep at the switch” and allowed modernists to take over their organization.[20] Their new group, initially envisioned as a sub-organization within the CSA, rapidly grew more autonomous as ideological divisions hardened.[21]

By 1925, the Painters and Sculptors of Chicago held their first independent exhibition, featuring approximately forty artists, at Carson Pirie Scott’s department store galleries.[22] This event marked the beginning of a long campaign to establish a conservative alternative to modernist-dominated venues. Though the group participated in the C&V during some subsequent years, the rift grew ever wider. In 1926, the CSA declined to award its prestigious Silver Medal at the C&V; by 1927, the CSA held a separate exhibition altogether, awarding its top prize to the modernist painter Increase Robinson.[23]

The conservative faction, refusing to be overshadowed, instituted its own highest honor—the Gold Medal—awarded for the first time in 1927 to Frederic Tellander for his painting Surf at Ogunquit.[24] The stage was set for nearly a decade of escalating rivalry, parallel exhibitions, and deepening philosophical division. In October, fifty-one member artists exhibited eighty-two works at the rooms of the recently formed Chicago Galleries Association, 220 N. Michigan Ave.[25] Artists were limited to two entries each.[26]

By the late 1920s, the Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors (ACPS)—as the conservative faction would increasingly be known—had become an established force within the city’s artistic landscape. In 1928, their Gold Medal, awarded annually at the C&V for the “most meritorious work” by one of their members, went to landscape painter Rudolph Ingerle.[27] The award affirmed the group’s identity as the guardian of traditional craftsmanship at a moment when modernism was ascendant. In 1929 the ACPS held its own exhibition that was widely praised by conservative critics. Eleanor Jewett described the show: “The effect is one of brilliancy.…Each individual contribution is good and some of the canvases have more than usual merit.”[28] Nine days later she added, “The paintings are so excellent and so characteristic of the different artists that it is almost impossible to submit anything in regard to them but appreciation.”[29]

Other reviewers echoed this praise. One critic noted that although no sculpture appeared in the 1928 exhibit, the paintings were colorful, carefully composed, and representative of a wide range of subjects. He contrasted these works with what he derisively termed “anecdotal” modernist painting—implying that modernist narratives were contrived or overly intellectual, whereas the ACPS upheld sincerity and artistic integrity through representational clarity.[30]

By 1928, Pauline Palmer—one of the central figures in the 1923 split—had been nominated as President of the organization, further cementing the group’s leadership around established, decorated artists.[31] Award recognition continued into the next decade: Oskar Gross won the ACPS Gold Medal in 1930, followed by Edward Thomas Grigware in 1931 at the C&V show.[32] These awards underscored the group’s belief in disciplined draftsmanship and compositional harmony as the foundation of serious artmaking.

Yet just as the ACPS appeared secure in its identity, the relationship between conservative and modernist factions within Chicago reached a new breaking point. The year 1932 proved especially pivotal. Although the C&V remained the central annual exhibition in Chicago’s art calendar, ACPS members staged an unexpected and dramatic boycott that year. When the C&V opened on January 28, 1932, many of the city’s most prominent conservative artists were conspicuously absent from the exhibition. Instead, on January 31 — only three days later — the ACPS opened a separate exhibition at the Shawnee Country Club in suburban Wilmette.[33]

The decision to hold a simultaneous competing exhibition represented a bold public protest. Of the forty artists who exhibited in Wilmette, only eight also appeared in the 1932 C&V, even though most had long-standing histories of participation. The withdrawal was nearly total and unmistakably intentional. Even Albin Polasek, Head of Sculpture at the Art Institute, abstained from submitting work, underscoring the seriousness of the conservative revolt.[34]

Eleanor Jewett's review of the Wilmette exhibition captured the ACPS’s ideological posture. Her headline declared: “Sane Paintings at Club Show Win Approval: Refuse to Retreat Before Modernism.”[35] The language is revealing—not only was modern art deemed incorrect or disagreeable; it was portrayed as a force from which one must refuse to “retreat,” as though engaged in a cultural battle. Jewett’s commentary further emphasized that the exhibition offered a refreshing alternative to the bold experimentation dominating the Art Institute’s recent shows. She celebrated the Wilmette display as a sanctuary of clarity and sound technique, free from the perceived excesses of the avant-garde.

C. J. Bulliet, writing for the Chicago Evening Post, observed a similar dynamic at the central C&V exhibition. He noted that the “old-hats”—his term for conservative painters—were nearly as absent in 1932 as they had been in the preceding season’s American exhibition. Modernists, meanwhile, were “offended” for a different reason: the first prize had been awarded to a conservative work, Girl Reading, which stood out amid an otherwise modern-leaning collection. Bulliet pointedly remarked that after the trustees finished their initial jurying, “Buck’s painting was about the only tiresome academic thing left”.[36] Yet curiously, Girl Reading won not only the C&V first prize but also the ACPS Gold Medal that year — a rare coincidence that momentarily united opposing factions, even as tensions continued to rise.[37]

Following the Wilmette exhibition, the ACPS returned to the city in June 1932 with a show at the Chicago Galleries Association. Jewett again praised the display’s “colorful” and “interesting” qualities, positioning it as a welcome reprieve from the recent Art Institute exhibitions.[38] Another critic concurred, suggesting that those disappointed by the C&V’s modernist emphasis would “find solace” in the ACPS exhibit.[39] The conservative artists had, for the moment, reclaimed their audience.

In 1933, however, the Art Institute attempted to address ongoing complaints about jury selection. The catalog for the thirty-seventh C&V listed two separate painting juries—one modernist, one conservative—to placate both sides.[40] The modernist jury consisted of younger artists such as Francis Chapin, Louis Ritman, and Flora Schofield, while the conservative jury featured Edgar Spier Cameron, Rudolph Ingerle, and Pauline Palmer. Jewett found the resulting exhibition confusing: modern and conservative works were intermingled in a way that created what she called a “curious show,” with extremes of style placed side by side.[41]

The awarding of prizes further inflamed tensions. Critic Jewett called the annual exhibit “a curious show….There is a mingling of modern and conservative work sufficient to make one’s head whirl. The two kinds of painting are so diametrically opposed that one wonders who can find satisfaction in both.” She noted that except for two, all the prizes awarded went to Modernists. In voting the prizes the three Modernists deadlocked with the three Conservatives and the three sculpture jurists were called in to break the tie. Two of those three being Modernists, the awards were swayed in that direction.[42]

Bulliet offered a more satirical critique. He reminded readers that conservative artists had previously threatened to join the Chicago No-Jury Society of Artists, abandoning the C&V entirely unless their demands were addressed.[43] The Art Institute, in response, had conceded to dual juries; yet both factions ultimately found the resulting exhibition dull and uninspired. Bulliet attributed this to the role of the jurors themselves, whom he blamed for making “allegedly stupid choices.”[44] His commentary reflected broader fatigue with the longstanding feud, suggesting that the compromise had satisfied no one.

A brief respite from these disputes came with the opening of the Century of Progress World’s Fair in 1933. The ACPS presented work in the Fair’s Home Planning Building, and even Jewett lamented that some of their paintings were not also included in the official Art Institute exhibition celebrating American art.[45] But the peace proved fleeting. As the 1934 C&V approached, conservative organizations—including the ACPS, the Palette and Chisel Club, and the Oak Park Art League—submitted a formal protest to the Art Institute’s trustees. Their letter demanded that future exhibitions be judged exclusively by artists rather than by laypeople or external professionals.[46]

Bulliet described the artists as “deeply and ominously aroused,” noting that he had never seen such intense indignation among Chicago painters.[47] Jewett pointed out that, in their letter, the artists had curiously omitted concerns about the prize jury, which was often separate from the selection jury.[48] Nevertheless, the protest signaled that conservative artists were no longer content merely to complain about jury bias; they were now prepared to withdraw from the C&V entirely unless substantial reforms were made.

The 1934 C&V did little to soothe frustrations. The selection jury consisted largely of curators from institutions outside Chicago—Detroit, Baltimore, Buffalo, and Indianapolis—along with a Chicago architect.[49] The resulting exhibition strongly favored modernists, both in number and visibility. Although one conservative work, J. Jeffrey Grant’s Street Scene in Gloucester, won the ACPS Gold Medal that year,[50] the broader display reaffirmed the Art Institute’s increasing alignment with modernism.

Faced with these cumulative frustrations, the ACPS took a decisive organizational step. On November 15, 1934, the Association formally incorporated in the State of Illinois, solidifying its legal and institutional identity.[51] Its constitution declared its purpose “to promote social friendship, to encourage the best standards of craftsmanship, to cultivate the pursuit of high ideals and to develop American art. Mens Sansa.”[52] The wording reasserted the group's foundational belief: that art should aspire toward moral and technical clarity, resisting the perceived distortions of modernism.

Eighty-two artists were listed as founding me

mbers. Their ranks included many of Chicago’s most accomplished and respected practitioners: Adam Emory Albright, Ralph Elmer Clarkson, Frank V. Dudley, Ernest Martin Hennings, Pauline Palmer, Frank Charles Peyraud, Albin Polasek, Anna Lee Stacey, and Lorado Taft. These were artists with extensive prize histories, solo exhibitions at the Art Institute, and deep ties to the SAIC. Their presence lent the ACPS a sense of authority and continuity with Chicago’s artistic past—precisely the legacy they sought to preserve.

Despite its impressive roster and strengthened organizational identity, the newly incorporated Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors (ACPS) entered the late 1930s and 1940s facing a rapidly shifting cultural landscape. Modernism continued to gain institutional legitimacy. Younger artists embraced abstraction and experimentation; museums increasingly championed avant-garde movements; and the broader national art market—especially in New York—shifted decisively toward innovation rather than tradition. Although the ACPS remained an influential force among Chicago’s established artists, its exhibitions and aesthetic principles were gradually overshadowed by the accelerating pace of change in American art.

Nevertheless, during the early years following incorporation, the ACPS maintained a robust presence within Chicago’s exhibition circuit. Members continued to participate selectively in the Annual Exhibition by Artists of Chicago and Vicinity (C&V), though always under protest regarding jury procedures. Their independent exhibitions also continued, often receiving favorable coverage from critics who shared their skepticism toward modernism. Eleanor Jewett, long one of the most visible voices defending traditional craftsmanship, consistently framed ACPS exhibitions as bastions of order amid what she perceived as the disorderly excesses of contemporary experimentalism.

The ACPS’s identity rested on several pillars: mastery of technique, adherence to representational clarity, respect for historical artistic traditions, and resistance to what members saw as the intellectual pretensions and visual distortions of the modernist aesthetic. Their exhibitions rarely included abstraction, surrealism, or other experimental forms. Instead, they favored landscapes, portraits, still life, and genre scenes—subjects that had long anchored American art and that aligned with the group’s commitment to what they described as “high ideals.”

But in the broader artistic climate of the 1930s, these commitments increasingly positioned the ACPS as countercultural rather than conventional. The Great Depression and the rise of federal art programs—most notably the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP) and the Works Progress Administration (WPA)—gave unprecedented visibility to socially engaged art, including the murals and regionalist paintings that became hallmarks of the era. Though many ACPS artists participated in federal art programs, the organization itself remained focused on aesthetic rather than political aims.

The tensions between modernist and conservative approaches were reflected in critics’ commentary during this period. For example, when examining the 1934 PWAP debate, Jewett noted that the newspaper’s headline—“Public Works of Art Project in Chicago Moves Workers with Palette and Chisel to Hot Debate”—was misleading, for the content of the article bore little relation to the title.[53] Her observation underscores the ongoing cultural confusion surrounding art movements and artistic intent; newspapers often sensationalized perceived conflicts within the art community, particularly when modernism was involved.

By the late 1930s, dual juries at the C&V exhibitions had become more common, with the Art Institute attempting—though never fully succeeding—to create an atmosphere of balance between modern and conservative sensibilities. Yet the C&V catalogues and critical reviews from this period demonstrate that modernism continued its steady advance. The traditional safeguards that conservative artists fought to implement could not stem the tide of aesthetic change.

The ACPS nevertheless maintained leadership continuity and a sense of institutional pride. Many of its exhibitions were held at the Chicago Galleries Association, an organization formed in 1925 to support the sale and exhibition of works by Midwestern artists²⁹. These exhibitions helped the ACPS sustain its public visibility and generate sales, which were especially critical during the economic hardships of the 1930s. Critics frequently praised the exhibitions' “soundness” and “color,” reinforcing the idea that the ACPS offered an accessible alternative to more challenging modernist displays.

As the 1940s progressed, however, the Chicago Galleries Association’s influence waned. Broader shifts in the American art world increasingly favored New York as the center of artistic activity, notably with the rise of Abstract Expressionism. Chicago, though still home to important artists and institutions, no longer held the cultural dominance it once enjoyed. The ACPS, oriented toward more traditional aesthetics, found itself increasingly at odds with the dominant currents reshaping American art.

Still, the group persisted. Annual exhibitions continued, membership remained active, and ACPS artists continued to garner awards at local and regional shows. Their dedication to representational art ensured that they retained a loyal audience, even as artistic tastes changed. And while the ACPS’s stance against modernism placed it outside the avant-garde, it provided a space where conservative artists could thrive, collaborate, and receive recognition.

By the mid-1950s, however, the organization’s activity began to show signs of decline. Newspaper archives suggest that the ACPS’s last annual exhibition took place in 1956, held at the Palette and Chisel Club—another long-standing Chicago institution supportive of representational art⁵⁵. The choice of venue was symbolic. The Chicago Galleries Association, which had hosted numerous ACPS exhibitions over the years, closed in 1956, eliminating a major platform for the group’s public visibility. Without access to a central gallery space, and with modernism firmly entrenched in both academic and museum settings, the ACPS struggled to maintain its earlier prominence.

Jewett's review of the 1956 exhibition offers a glimpse into the organization’s final public chapter. She described the show as exhibiting “sound art,” praising the quality of the works while also acknowledging the shifting cultural landscape in which the ACPS now operated.[54] Her review implicitly recognized that while ACPS artists continued to produce high-caliber representational art, the broader public conversation had moved on. The group’s ideals, once foundational to Chicago’s art identity, now belonged to a past era.

The dissolution of the ACPS is not formally documented, but its absence from records after 1956 indicates that the organization quietly receded as its members aged and as cultural priorities evolved. Yet the ACPS’s legacy is significant. The group preserved and championed an artistic tradition that might otherwise have been overshadowed in Chicago’s modernist narrative. Its exhibitions provide invaluable insight into the city's diverse artistic output, demonstrating that Chicago’s art history cannot be understood solely through the lens of modernist innovation.

Moreover, the history of the ACPS underscores the dynamic tension between tradition and change in American art. At moments of artistic transformation, debates over aesthetics become debates over identity, values, and cultural purpose. The ACPS was born from such a debate—a response to a perceived erosion of standards, a desire to uphold a vision of art rooted in clarity, craftsmanship, and continuity with the past. Whether one embraces or critiques their perspective, the ACPS reveals how deeply artists can feel invested in the cultural meaning of their work.

The organization also represents a pattern that recurs throughout art history: when disruptive new styles emerge, established practitioners often respond by forming groups that seek to preserve earlier traditions. Such groups can be dismissed as reactionary, but they also play a vital role in the cultural ecosystem by articulating alternative values and preserving diverse artistic practices. The ACPS served precisely this function in Chicago for more than three decades.

As modernism reshaped the art world, the ACPS offered a counterbalance, reminding audiences that innovation does not need entirely eclipse tradition. Their persistence, even in the face of diminishing institutional support, reflects a deep commitment to principles they believed essential for the health of American art. Their influence may have waned, but their presence shaped the artistic dialogue of their time.

The decline of the ACPS also coincided with changes in how American audiences engaged with the visual arts. By the mid-twentieth century, museums, critics, and collectors increasingly favored experimental approaches. Academic institutions adopted modernist curricula. Younger artists gravitated toward abstraction, conceptualism, and other non-representational forms. In this environment, groups like the ACPS struggled to maintain relevance—not because their art lacked quality, but because cultural narratives shifted around them.

Yet the importance of the ACPS as a historical counterpoint should not be underestimated. Their exhibitions, awards, and public presence contributed to a pluralistic artistic landscape in Chicago. They challenged modernist dominance, articulated alternative aesthetic ideals, and created a community for artists committed to representational and traditional forms.

By tracing the evolution of the ACPS—its origins in protest, its battles over jury control, its institutional consolidation, and its eventual decline—we gain a fuller understanding of the complex interplay between artistic movements in Chicago. The group’s history offers valuable insight into the cultural tensions that accompany artistic innovation and reminds us that the development of American art has never followed a single, linear trajectory.

The final decades of the Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors (ACPS) reveal a nuanced story of persistence, adaptation, and eventual quiet dissolution amid a cultural environment that no longer aligned with the organization’s foundational aims. While the ACPS initially emerged from a position of strength—formed by decorated artists with long-standing institutional ties—it gradually became clear that the ideological terrain on which the group had planted its flag was shifting irrevocably. The ACPS had been conceived as a bulwark against modernism, but as the 20th century progressed, modernism was not merely an alternative aesthetic; it became the dominant language of American art.

This shift did not occur overnight. During the 1930s and 1940s, the ACPS remained a visible and at times influential presence in Chicago’s art world. Members continued to exhibit widely, win awards, receive commissions, and contribute significantly to the cultural life of the city. Their exhibitions offered audiences an alternative to the increasingly experimental shows at the Art Institute of Chicago, and they maintained a loyal following of patrons who valued traditional craftsmanship and representational technique. Critics such as Eleanor Jewett continued to champion their cause, framing their exhibitions as havens for viewers fatigued by the more radical visual expressions that were gaining prominence.

Yet while individual ACPS members achieved success, the organization itself faced increasing challenges. The progressive institutionalization of modernist aesthetics within major art schools, museums, critics’ circles, and cultural policy meant that younger artists—those graduating from the School of the Art Institute and other prominent institutions—were trained in and rewarded for styles fundamentally at odds with the ACPS philosophy. This generational shift weakened the influx of new members who might otherwise have sustained the organization’s vitality.

Moreover, the rise of New York as the epicenter of American art further diminished the influence of regional organizations like the ACPS. Chicago, though still a vibrant artistic center, no longer set national trends. Critics, galleries, and collectors increasingly looked to New York for leadership, and movements such as Abstract Expressionism captured the public imagination on a scale that overshadowed the representational traditions the ACPS sought to protect.

Still, the ACPS persisted, sustained by artists who were deeply committed to representational art and to the preservation of technical mastery. Their exhibitions continued through the 1940s and into the 1950s, though with fewer mentions in the local press and decreasing attendance. Many founding members began to age, retire, or pass away; others continued working but saw diminished institutional support for the forms of art they practiced. Without substantial recruitment of younger artists — most of whom were drawn to modernist styles — the organization lacked the generational continuity required for long-term stability.

The mid-1950s brought the clearest signs of decline. The Chicago Galleries Association, a major venue for ACPS exhibitions and a crucial ally in promoting traditional art, closed in 1956. Its closure represented not only the loss of exhibition space but the end of an ecosystem of collectors and critics who had provided the visibility and market support necessary for conservative art groups to thrive. Without this institutional partner, the ACPS was forced to relocate its exhibitions to smaller venues such as the Palette and Chisel Club.[55]  While the Palette and Chisel Club was itself a respected institution with a long history of supporting representational art, the scale and prestige of its galleries could not match those of the Chicago Galleries Association.

Eleanor Jewett’s review of the ACPS’s final known exhibition in 1956 offered a fitting epitaph. She praised the show’s “sound art,” an expression she used frequently when describing work that embodied technical competence, clarity of composition, and fidelity to representational subject matter.[56]  Her language reflected the enduring values of the ACPS and affirmed that, even in its twilight, the organization maintained its commitment to its core principles. Yet the tone of the review also acknowledged, implicitly, the changing currents of the art world. Jewett’s praise carried a sense of nostalgia — a recognition that the ACPS represented a fading chapter in Chicago’s cultural history.

After 1956, the ACPS disappears from the public record. There is no formal announcement of dissolution, no documented final meeting or concluding statement. Instead, the group appears to have quietly receded, its purpose fulfilled or made obsolete by the force of cultural transformation. Its members continued their individual careers, leaving behind substantial bodies of work that contribute meaningfully to the history of American art. But the organization itself, formed in protest and sustained through decades of unwavering commitment to traditional artistic values, ceased to function as a cohesive institution.

The legacy of the ACPS, however, extends far beyond its final exhibition. Its history provides critical insight into the dynamics of artistic change—specifically, how institutions and communities respond to aesthetic upheaval. The ACPS emerged from a moment of radical transformation, when modernism challenged entrenched notions of artistic purpose and technique. Its founding reflected a desire to preserve continuity, to defend what its members saw as “sanity” in art against the perceived chaos introduced by abstraction and experimentalism.

Throughout its existence, the ACPS articulated an alternative vision of artistic excellence, one grounded in tradition, clarity, and craftsmanship. This vision did not prevail in the broader narrative of 20th-century art, but it played a vital role in shaping the diversity of artistic expression in Chicago. The presence of a strong conservative faction forced modernists to articulate their aims more clearly, sharpened critical debate, and ensured that multiple aesthetic perspectives coexisted within the city’s cultural institutions.

Moreover, the ACPS stands as a reminder that the evolution of art is never linear. Movements arise not in isolation but in dialogue with what precedes them. The tension between modernism and traditionalism in Chicago created a dynamic artistic environment in which innovation and preservation interacted in complex ways. The ACPS provided a counterpoint that enriched this dialogue, even if its influence waned over time.

Today, the history of the ACPS invites reconsideration not just of the group itself, but of how we understand artistic value and progress. It challenges the common narrative that positions modernism as a triumphant force and traditionalism as a mere obstacle. Instead, the ACPS reveals that traditional art forms can serve as meaningful, substantive responses to cultural change—responses that deserve recognition for their artistry, conviction, and contribution to the cultural fabric of their era.

In the end, the Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors leave behind a legacy defined not by the duration of its existence but by the depth of its conviction. Formed in a moment of ideological fracture, sustained through decades of aesthetic debate, and dissolved quietly as the world changed around it, the ACPS serves as a testament to the enduring significance of artistic communities built on shared values and mutual support. Its story enriches our understanding of Chicago’s artistic identity and offers a compelling example of how artists navigate—and shape—the shifting landscape of cultural history.

[1] The original meaning of the word “bedlam” came from a reference to an asylum for the mentally ill. Bedlam was the colloquial name, derived from Bethlem, for the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem in London, England.

[2] Harriet Monroe, “Art Show Open To Freaks,” Chicago Tribune, February 17, 1913.

[3] “Recent Example of Cubists’ Art,” Chicago Record-Herald, March 19, 1913 (AIC Scrapbooks) vol. 30, 58.

[4] H. Effa Webster, “Moderns Here On Exhibition Called Art Desecration,” Chicago Examiner, April 1, 1913.

[5] “Director French Fears Cubists’ Chicago Effect,” Chicago Examiner, April 27, 1913.

[6] National Academy of Design database website, https://www.nadatabase.org/2018/07/17/george-wesley-bellows/ accessed January 8, 2022.

[7] The Illinois Historical Art Project has compiled an extensive database of artists and the professors they studied with at the School of the Art Institute.

[8] Salon des Refusés of 1921, (Chicago: Rothshild & Company, November 21, 1921) [exhibition catlaog]. “Chicago’s First Salon Des Refusés...,” The Arts, Vol. 2, November 1921, pp.97-98. “Irate Artists Ask Rejected Art Showing,” Chicago American, November 4, 1921 in Art Institute of Chicago scrapbooks, vol. 42, p.118, [pages out of sequence]. “Art ‘Insurgents’ To Hold Exhibit,” Chicago Herald Examiner, November 14, 1921, vol. 42, approximately p.118. [out of sequence] “Chicago Artists Ask Their Work Be Displayed,” Chicago Evening Post, 11/4/1921, vol. 42, approximately p.118 [out of sequence].

[9] Lena M. McCauley, “Salon des Refuses to appear Here” in “News of the Art World,” Chicago Evening Post, November 15, 1921, p.11.

[10] Clarence J. Bulliet, “Artists of Chicago Past and Present,” Chicago Daily News, No. 11 in a series, Rudolph Weisenborn, May 4, 1935, p.11.

[11] The Catalogue of the Twenty-Sixth Annual Exhibition By Artists of Chicago and Vicinity, (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, January 26-March 5, 1922).

[12] “Chicago Painter Made Target Of Artists’ Attacks,” Chicago Evening Post, 5/22/1922 and Marguerite B. Williams, “Art Institute Rules Roil Chicago Society,” Chicago Daily News, 5/24/1922 and “Artists Vote Down ‘Outside Jury’ Rule,” Chicago Journal, 5/26/1922, all in Art Institute of Chicago Scrapbooks, vol. 43.

[13] “Art on Trial,” illustration, Chicago Herald-Examiner, 1/23/1923 in Art Institute of Chicago Scrapbooks, vol. 44.

[14] “A New Society In Chicago,” American Magazine of Art, Vol. 14, July 1923, p.341. Eleanor Jewett, “Art And Artists,” Chicago Tribune, 4/15/1923, part 7, p.14. John Franklin Stacey (1859-1941) served as Vice-President and Carl Rudolph Krafft (1884-1938) as Secretary-Treasurer. Directors included Karl Albert Buehr (1866-1952), Lucie Hartrath (1867-1962), Charles William Dahlgreen (1865-1955), Pauline Palmer (1867-1938), Frederick Cleveland Hibbard (1881-1950), and Frank Virgil Dudley (1868-1957).

[15] Op. cit., American Magazine of Art, 1923, p.341.

[16] Thomas Temple Hoyne, “Show Visitor Shocked By Paintings,” Chicago American, February 6, 1923 in Art Institute of Chicago scrapbooks, vol. 44.

[17] “Painters Rush To Defense Of ‘Modernistic’ Art,” Chicago American, February 7, 1923 in Art Institute of Chicago scrapbooks, vol. 44. The author has used his knowledge of the juror’s backgrounds to estimate those in each camp. The Annual Exhibition Record of the Art Institute of Chicago 1888-1950, (Madison, CT: Sound View Press, 1990), p.30.

[18] Eleanor Jewett, “Art and Artists,” Chicago Tribune, February 4, 1923, part 7, p.9. Eleanor Jewett, “Art and Artists,” Chicago Tribune, February 11, 1923, part 7, p.9.

[19] Clarence J. Bulliet, “Artists of Chicago Past and Present,” “No. 89 - Flora Schofield,” Chicago Daily News, June 3, 1939, Art and Antiques Section, p.1.

[20] Op. cit., Chicago Journal, March 31, 1923.

[21] “‘Painters and Sculptors’ Will Attend Parent Group’s Meeting,” Chicago Journal, March 31, 1923, in Art Institute of Chicago scrapbooks, vol. 45.

[22] Sixty artists formed the original group. Lena M. McCauley, “Painters, Sculptors Open Annual Show,” Chicago Evening Post Magazine of the Art World, March 31, 1925, p.3.

[23] Inez Cunningham, “Art by Chicagoans on Display Today; Prizes Are Awarded,” Chicago Tribune, February 4, 1926, p.25. Charles Victor Knox, “Chicago Society of Artists Exhibiting,” The Chicago Evening Post Magazine of the Art World, November 8, 1927, p.6. The prize was awarded her Market, illustrated in the November 22, 1927 issue, p.4.

[24] “Artists Award New Chicago Show Prize,” The Chicago Evening Post Magazine of the Art World, February 1, 1927, p.12. “Painters and Sculptors Medal Given Tellander,” Chicago Tribune, March 3, 1927, p.27.

[25] The Chicago Galleries Association was formed at the end of 1925. The best description of the organization was reprinted in 1926: “The Chicago Galleries Association is a not-for-profit corporation organized by the Municipal Art League of Chicago, to sell the works of Art of the Best Artists of the Middle West and western States.” “A Circulating Art Gallery,” All Arts Magazine, Vol. II, No. 8, August 1926, p.18.

[26] The Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors Invite You To The Opening Of Their Annual Exhibition, (Chicago: Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors, October 20, 1927).

[27] Eleanor Jewett, “News of Art and Artists,” Chicago Tribune, 3/25/1928, part 8, p.4. “Art Notes,” Chicago Tribune, April 1, 1928, part 8, p.8.

[28] Eleanor Jewett, “Chicago Painters and Sculptors Exhibiting at Local Galleries,” Chicago Tribune, June 14, 1929, p.35.

[29] Eleanor Jewett, “Paintings and Sculpture Win High Praise,” Chicago Tribune, June 23, 1929, part 7, p.3.

[30] Charles Victor Knox, “Association Of Chicago Painters And Sculptors Holds Exhibition,” The Chicago Evening Post Magazine of the Art World, June 25, 1929, p.7.

[31] American Art Annual, Vol. XXV, 1928, p.96.

[32] Eleanor Jewett, “Chicago Art How Opens; Prizes Given,” Chicago Tribune, January 30, 1931, p.20. Exhibition. Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors, (Chicago: Assoc. of Chicago. Painters and Sculptors, 1950), lists the Gold Medal winners from 1927 onward.

[33] “Show at Shawnee Club,” Chicago Tribune, January 30, 1932, p.14.

[34] Eleanor Jewett, “Sane Paintings at Club Show Win Approval: Refuse to Retreat Before Modernism,” Chicago Tribune, February 13, 1932, p.13.

[35] Eleanor Jewett, “Sane Paintings at Club Show Win Approval: Refuse to Retreat Before Modernism,” Chicago Tribune, February 13, 1932, p.13.

[36] C. J. Bulliet, “Chicago and Vicinity Show at the Institute Again Rings the Matin Bell,” Chicago Evening Post, February 2, 1932, Art Section, p.1. The painting is illustrated in Bulletin of the Art Institute of Chicago, Vol. 26, No. 3 (March 1932), p.39. “Honors Awarded By The Art Institute of Chicago,” Thirty-Sixth C, (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, January 28-March 20, 1932), n.p.

[37] “Honors Awarded By The Art Institute of Chicago,” Thirty-Sixth Annual Exhibition By Artists Of Chicago And Vicinity, (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, January 12-March 5, 1933), n.p. The award was given after the printing of the C&V catalog, hence the following year the prize is listed.

[38] Eleanor Jewett, “Good Painting Marks Display of Art Group: Painters and Sculptors Hold Exhibition,” Chicago Tribune, June 2, 1932, p.19.

[39] Tom Vickerman, “You Didn’t Like the Last Chicago Show? Well, Try This One,” Chicago Evening Post, June 7, 1932, Art Section, p.2.

[40] “Juries Of Selection,” Thirty-Sixth Annual Exhibition By Artists Of Chicago And Vicinity, (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, January 12-March 5, 1933), n.p.

[41] Eleanor Jewett, “Moderns Win Dispute Over Art Awards,” Chicago Tribune, January 12, 1933, p.15. Eleanor Jewett, “First Glimpse of Annual Show by Artists of Chicago and Vicinity,” Chicago Tribune, January 15, 1933, part 8, p.3.

[42] Eleanor Jewett, “Moderns Win Dispute Over Art Awards,” Chicago Tribune, January 12, 1933, p.15. Eleanor Jewett, “First Glimpse of Annual Show by Artists of Chicago and Vicinity,” Chicago Tribune, January 15, 1933, part 8, p.3.

[43] C. J. Bulliet, “Bulliet’s Artless Comment,” Chicago Daily News, January 21, 1933, p.7.

[44] Op. cit., Chicago Daily News, January 21, 1933, p.7.

[45] Eleanor Jewett, “City’s Famous Artists Show Work At Fair: Hang Paintings in Home Planning Building,” Chicago Tribune, June 20, 1933, p.19.

[46] Eleanor Jewett, “Public Works of Art Project in Chicago Moves Workers with Palette and Chisel to Hot Debate,” Chicago Tribune, March 11, 1934, part 7, p.6. Note that the article title was a newspaper error as the content did not relate to the title.

[47] C. J. Bulliet, “Bulliet’s Artless Comment,” Chicago Daily News, March 3, 1934, p.24.

[48] Op. cit., Chicago Tribune, June 20, 1933, p.19.

[49] “Jury of Selection,” Thirty-eighth Annual Exhibition By Artists Of Chicago And Vicinity, (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, February 1-March 18, 1934), n.p.

[50] “J. Jeffrey Grant Awarded Gold Medal for Painting,” Chicago Tribune, February 24, 1934, p.15. It was illustrated in the March 11, 1934, Sunday edition, part 7, p.6.

[51] “Constitution,” Association of Chicago Painters & Sculptors. Articles of Association, (Chicago: Association of Chicago Painters and Sculptors, 1934), p.3.

[52] Ibid. Articles III, IV, V, pp.4-6.

[53] Op. cit., Chicago Tribune, March 11, 1934, part 7, p.6.

[54] Eleanor Jewett, “Chicagoan’s Exhibit Has Its Sound Art,” Chicago Tribune, September 20, 1956, part 4, p.13.

[55] Op. cit., Chicago Tribune, September 20, 1956, part 4, p.13.

[56] Op. cit., Chicago Tribune, September 20, 1956, part 4, p.13.