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Norman Rockwell's Glen Canyon Dam

Under a bald eagle and a hawk wheeling through a soft blue sky, three people gaze across a canyon sunken in swells of golden sandstone and spanned by a huge concrete dam. A jeans-clad man and boy stand on the sloping rock, dog hunched behind them, while a woman sits stiffly on a horse. No one seems to belong to this place; the people and animals look as if they were cut out from other images and pasted into this one. The eagle and the hawk are conspicuously close together for birds of different species but seem oblivious to one another’s presence, like two renderings from the crowded page of a bird identification guide. The horse and its rider appear in strict profile, edged in flatness, like a motif stamped on a coin. The man and boy, situated on the far side of a rocky contour, their feet hidden, could be standing on air. Only the dog, the most interesting and expressive figure present, appears to recognize its insecure place in this pictorial world; it cringes, tail between its legs, looking anxiously into the depths below. Within this ensemble of two birds, two quadrupeds, and three humans, each figure remains isolated. They are all rendered in a photographic realism of crisp delineations and stark contrasts of value. But the play of light across the figures is inconsistent. In some places, the sunlight appears to strike from directly off to our right, while in others it seems to come from behind us. The patches of light and shadow across the bodies of the man and boy are particularly difficult to reconcile with their surroundings. The incoherent lighting