Down on the farm with Jamie Wyeth

Best known for a portrait of a pig, artist Jamie Wyeth says he has long had an affinity for animals.

He has solicited roadkill from friends to feed a baby vulture, for instance. A trip to the White House was highlighted by a bout with a feisty presidential pooch. And when a neighbor's cow died, Wyeth was there in a flash to paint the burning of its carcass.

Such brushes with animals resonate with a quirkiness that is comfortably consistent with his unconventional upbringing in Chadds Ford. Moreover, they generate a treasure trove of adventure that rivals the novels that his grandfather, N.C. Wyeth, famously illustrated.

The son of the late Andrew Wyeth, Wyeth was more than happy to share some of those tales during a recent interview to promote a collection of paintings - many of animals - which form the basis of "Farm Work by Jamie Wyeth," a 70-work exhibition at the Brandywine River Museum.

The show, which runs through Sept. 11, spans five decades - unless you count a 1949 drawing recently discovered by his mother, Betsy, that is also part of the display.

Wyeth grew up surrounded by critters - from standard-issue pets to his aunt's bear. Thus, his animal attachments evolved naturally, he said, eventually producing a menagerie at Point Lookout, the Delaware County farm he shares with his wife, Phyllis.

"They were easy models," Wyeth said of the animals.

Well, not always.

Sometimes he had to tie the beasts up to keep them from wandering. Some, like Den-Den, immortalized in Portrait of Pig, cooperated only if the mood was right.

"I learned from a longtime farmer that pigs enjoy soothing music," he said.

Wyeth, a youthful-looking 64, said he also needed a quick primer to care for Culture Vulture, a rescued turkey vulture that endeared itself to the artist, but not to his spouse.

"He smelled pretty bad," Wyeth acknowledged.

A dead cat or dog supplied several days of nutrition, and friends and neighbors obliged in delivering remains from area roadways.

James Browning Wyeth is the younger of Andrew and Betsy Wyeth's two sons. His brother, Nicholas, is a New York-based art dealer. They grew up in the family's longtime Chadds Ford home, an enclave of historic stone buildings along the Brandywine Creek.

Wyeth's middle name came from his mother, who traced her lineage to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, the Victorian poet.

"She always said her family was much more creative," Wyeth said, smiling broadly.

He attended Chadds Ford Elementary School, leaving in sixth grade to be tutored privately long before home-schooling was fashionable.

His education included sessions with respected artists. Wyeth learned from his father and also from aunts Carolyn Wyeth, who once had a pet bear, and Henriette Wyeth Hurd; and uncles Peter Hurd and John McCoy.

His surroundings produced his subjects, such as Below the Barn, a 1965 watercolor depicting the cremation of a dead cow.

Although Wyeth spent many hours on neighboring farms in Chadds Ford and in Maine, where his family also owns property, he never lived on one until he and his wife moved to Point Lookout.

The farm, which is bisected by the Brandywine, has nurtured more cattle, horses, and sundry other creatures than Wyeth can count. The current number? "Maybe 80."

Wyeth has spent time far from the rural charms of Chadds Ford - notably in New York and Russia - but he described himself as a boring homebody.

"I paint every day. I really have no hobbies. That's all I do," he said.

Occasionally, he has been persuaded to venture beyond his usual haunts. In 2000, after being asked to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the White House, he survived a predawn gaggle of security only to be ambushed on the south lawn by Buddy, the Clintons' dog.

Wyeth said the dog, likely let out for a bathroom break, just wanted to play. Their bonding netted Buddy a tiny image in the White House painting.

Wyeth said his invitation to tour Russian art centers in 1975 facilitated his relationship a few years later with ballet star Rudolf Nureyev, a model who became a friend. He recalled one visit Nureyev made to his home when he expressed an interest in meeting Andrew Wyeth.

Jamie Wyeth said he called to get an OK from his father, whose love of costumes helped elevate Halloween to national-holiday status in the family.

"When we got there, my father was dressed in a World War I uniform and helmet," Wyeth said.

Minutes later, Nureyev had donned a German uniform, and "they marched around the studio. It was quite a sight."

During a recent autograph session at the museum, the sight of Wyeth prompted museum members to wait in line for more than an hour to get a signature and a few words.

"He was so gracious," enthused Darcy Bertelmann, who, with her husband, Rod Miller, handed Wyeth a signed print of Faraway, a 1952 painting by Andrew Wyeth of his younger son.

"That's worth a lot of money," Wyeth exclaimed, suggesting that his signature might devalue the work.

"I don't think so," countered Miller, who traveled from Gettysburg to the signing.

Ryan and Melissa McKenzie of Kennett Square, who brought their 11-week-old daughter, Anna Christina, to the museum, also got a treat.

They asked Wyeth to autograph a copy of The Stray, a children's book he illustrated that was written by his mother.

He wrote: "I'll paint you in 16 years."

Wyeth's interaction with Anna Christina raised a question about his earliest work - a pencil drawing of a smiling pumpkin with his mother's notation: "drawn by Jamie, age 2 years, 10 months."

"I like it," he said. "It has a certain simplicity - maybe I should return to that."

To see a video of Jamie Wyeth, go to www.philly.com/jamiewyeth

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