Louis Michel Eilshemius had the right background to become an establishment painter.

Born to a wealthy family in New Jersey in 1864, he was educated in Europe and then Cornell University. After persuading his father to let him enroll in the Art Students League and pursue painting, he returned to live at his family’s Manhattan brownstone at 118 East 57th Street.
His early work earned notoriety and was selected for exhibition at the National Academy of Design in the 1880s.
“Eilshemius’s early artistic style was rooted in lessons he gleaned from his studies abroad, specifically the landscape aesthetics of the Barbizon School and French impressionism,” states the National Gallery of Art.

In the 1890s and 1900s he traveled the world, published books of poetry and a novel, and continued to paint. But what one critic called his “outsized” ego led Eilshemius, by all accounts a loner and eccentric, to reject the contemporary art scene.
“By 1911, disconcerted by the lack of attention his paintings attracted, he had renounced his formal training and transitioned to an entirely self-conscious and seemingly self-taught style.”
That self-taught style was dreamy, romantic, and visionary. Influenced by reclusive 19th century painter Albert Pinkham Ryder, it was described as having a “sinister magic.”
“The paintings of this time became increasingly less conventional and punctuated by an element of fantasy, depicting voluptuous nudes and moonlit landscapes,” states the Michael Rosenfeld Gallery. “With whimsical flourish, Eilshemius also painted sinuous frames onto these pictures, thereby adding both dimensionality and flatness to his lyrical and romantic scenes.”
Though he isn’t known as a New York City streetscapes painter, Eilshemius seems to have occasionally painted the city around him—creating muted, mystical scenes of Gotham’s shabbier neighborhoods in twilight and moonlight.
As Eilshamius turned away from the art world, he became more of an oddball, a “bearded, querulous, erratic man whose gaunt figure was a stock one in the galleries that never hung his work,” according to his obituary in the New York Times.

Now he was living in the dusty family brownstone with just his brother, Henry. When he wasn’t haranguing gallery owners to buy his work, he was handing out pamphlets touting himself as an artistic genius, or writing thousands of letters to city newspapers. (The Sun printed some of them under amusing headlines, states his obituary.)
As the 20th century went on, however, Eilshemius was rediscovered by the art world. In the 1920s and 1930s he had numerous exhibits, and his talent was recognized by the critics of the era.
“At this time, his success both confounded and fueled his perceived peculiarities and erratic behavior and, injured in an automobile accident in 1932, Eilshemius became increasingly reclusive,” according to the Michael Rosenfeld Gallery.
When Henry died in 1940, Eilshemius was left ailing and impoverished in the family’s “gloomy, gaslit” brownstone. In 1941 he came down with pneumonia, but he protested going to the hospital, so doctors put him in Bellevue’s psych ward.
He died in December of that year, in debt but with the recognition he always wanted.
“A feisty rebel and a tireless iconoclast, he never painted to satisfy the fashions of his day, but only to please his own strange and sometimes nightmarish vision,” wrote David L. Shirey in the New York Times in 1978, in a piece on an exhibit of Eilshemius’ work. “It was a vision characterized by extraordinary personal insight and imagination.”
Tags: Eccentric Painters NYC, Louis Michel Eilshemius, Louis Michel Eilshemius New York City, New York in 1910s, New York Moonlight, New York Nocturnes, Painters New York City 1910s
June 20, 2021 at 11:58 pm |
As with the last artist you posted, the boxy tower in “New York at Night (1910)” seems to come from a later time than the more spire-topped buildings of that era. Perhaps it’s just the murky texture. I do like his work, though.
June 21, 2021 at 4:50 am |
Even for an Impressionist, his people are just so weird looking.
June 21, 2021 at 6:35 am |
[…] An eccentric loner paints New York at dusk and in moonlight — Ephemeral New York […]
June 21, 2021 at 9:19 am |
Why do you think the galleries didn’t want to give him a chance and his work didn’t get recognition? It doesn’t look to be half as bad as some other art that was for sale during this period.
June 22, 2021 at 1:20 am |
I’d guess it has to do with the clubby sensibility of the art world, then and now. Think of all the excellent writers, painters, filmmakers, and other artists who can’t get their foot in the door because their work isn’t trendy in the moment.
June 21, 2021 at 10:37 am |
These are wonderful paintings. Too bad he wasn’t accepted in his day. Thanks for sharing these.
June 22, 2021 at 1:21 am |
Glad you enjoyed!
June 21, 2021 at 11:11 am |
Pretty cool stuff. I wonder where “New York Street at Dusk” could be – you don’t see slopes like that much in Manhattan. Maybe somewhere uptown.
June 21, 2021 at 12:47 pm |
Based on the 4 faint, triangular peaked, bridge towers in the background and the elevated train station, I would say that this is 57th Street looking east, from west of 2nd avenue or west of 3rd avenue. (If you believe that street is sloped, rather than just vanishing away, then this view would be from west of 2nd avenue.)
June 21, 2021 at 12:51 pm |
Also, given that the artist lived on the south side of East 57th Street, it would make sense that he painted this from his rooftop.
” […] he returned to live at his family’s Manhattan brownstone at 118 East 57th Street.
” […] Now he was living in the dusty family brownstone with just his brother, Henry.
” […] When Henry died in 1940, Eilshemius was left ailing and impoverished in the family’s “gloomy, gaslit” brownstone. […] “
June 21, 2021 at 1:01 pm
So west of Lexington actually, looking at the 3rd avenue el.
View from ground: https://digitalcollections.nyhistory.org/islandora/object/nyhs%3A97445
June 21, 2021 at 6:31 pm |
This may be a photograph of the building used as the basis for the beige building at the center of the painting.
https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47dc-dfe8-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99
June 21, 2021 at 6:58 pm
awfully hard to tell
June 22, 2021 at 1:26 am
Excellent sleuthing Bob! I figured he painted this from his roof, low-rise East 57th Street on the early 1900s.
June 21, 2021 at 1:01 pm |
It looks like a dramatic hill to me, which would not jibe with 57th street at all. But if it is intented to be more abstract, then you may be right.
June 21, 2021 at 1:07 pm |
It is uphill from 3rd avenue to 2nd avenue along 57th Street, if not exactly Himalayan in its slope.
June 21, 2021 at 1:04 pm |
New York Rooftops was painted in 1908. This photograph is from Lexington and 57th looking west, and the spires seem to follow.
https://digitalcollections.nyhistory.org/islandora/object/nyhs%3A97437
June 21, 2021 at 2:22 pm |
I enjoy your artist profiles immensely. Thank you.
June 22, 2021 at 1:21 am |
You’re welcome, this painter was new to me, but very interesting to research and write about.
June 21, 2021 at 3:11 pm |
[…] The Naked City, Louis Michel Eilshemius […]
June 22, 2021 at 1:22 am |
In the 1976 movie “LIFEGUARD” Ann Archer worked in an LA Art Gallery. She told Sam Elliot she sold an Eilshemius. Now I know what that means. Thanks ENY.
June 24, 2021 at 12:34 am |
You’re welcome Tom! I’ve never heard of that movie, but if it mentions Eilshemius, someone connected to it must know their painters.
June 23, 2021 at 10:53 am |
When people say this city “isn’t what it used to be,” they might mention a favorite restaurant that’s gone or how expensive it’s become to live here. Such things are certainly lamentable. I believe, however, that what’s being mourned, as often as not, is the loss of an atmosphere.
Eilshemius captured at least one aspect: light, or more precisely, the way it feels as it’s refracted through urban spaces—narrow streets, waterfronts and such—defined by shapes of brick, stone and other materials used to build the spaces in which people of all classes lived and worked.
Those old buildings are being replaced by things that look like they’re made of auto windshields and Lego blocks in neutral colors. The difference between the light and space they define,’and what we see in the paintings (and, for some of us, in our memories) is like the difference between an LED light in a gleaming coffee bar and the incandescent glow inside an old Greenwich Village or working-class Brooklyn cafe.
June 23, 2021 at 12:47 pm |
Spot on! (I’ll take incandescent almost every time! At least you can get LEDs that a re “warm” for a similar (and far more economical) effect.
June 24, 2021 at 12:34 am |
Very well put, VV.