In the landscape painting "Hunter Mountain, Twilight," context is everything.
It was painted in 1866, after the nation, too, had been denuded by the Civil War. And the artist, Sanford Robinson Gifford, had served in the Union Army and lost a brother in the war.
So the purple twilight means more than just the dimming of a day in New York's Catskill Mountains. And the stumps in a field that occupy the image's foreground are more that just the remnants of felled trees.
Somber and mournful, the painting is the powerful closing image of a new exhibition at the Newberry Library, "Home Front: Daily Life in the Civil War North," that itself paints a nuanced picture of what the war was like for those not directly involved in battle or statesmanship.
When we think of the Civil War, it is often in terms of blues and grays battling grimly in a field or, thanks to recent popular culture, of President Abraham Lincoln steering the nation through it.
But "Home Front," opening Friday, delivers a fresh and thoroughly engaging perspective.
It uses paintings of the period, scores of documents from the Newberry's trove, the era's patriotic sheet music and new recordings of some of the songs, and objects ranging from a woman's dress showing the seepage of military uniforms into fashion to a Myriopticon, a postwar Milton Bradley toy that encouraged children to revisit grisly scenes from the conflict via a backlit, box-mounted scroll.
The historical library, in organizing the show in conjunction with Chicago's Terra Foundation for American Art, wanted to tell a Civil War story that visitors might not be so familiar with, said Daniel Greene, exhibit co-curator and the Newberry's vice president for research and academic programs.
Separate sections address the cotton trade in advance of the war, the concurrent American Indian Wars in the west, the role of women and how the war played out in Chicago.
"What this show shows is that even if you're at a distance from war, you are intimately bound with it," Greene said.
And if that happens to make you think about the distance we've had in contemporary America from our wars, well, that's just fine with Greene and co-curator Peter John Brownlee, the Terra Foundation's associate curator.
Three years in the making, "Home Front" is timed to run during the 150th anniversary year of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, and is, the library reminds us in a news release, "Chicago's Only Major Sesquicentennial Civil War Exhibition." (Springfield's Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum has a pretty full agenda planned around the speech's Nov. 19 anniversary date.)
Too commonly, the war is thought of as a battle to free the Southern slaves, says Greene, a historian by training.
"I would like to reframe it as a contest over the westward expansion of slavery," he says, and the exhibition makes the point with maps showing the vast West, neither slave nor free, and with the poignant section on the wars with American Indians, often overlooked because of the country's primary conflict.
The Newberry is, primarily, a documents collection: books, maps, sheet music — flat things you are not allowed to touch.
But it does remarkably well mixing it up in this show. This is not to say an original copy of Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" is anything to sneeze at (or, certainly, on). And the maps are, in fact, fascinating as depictions both of physical reality and of mindset.
But, Greene allows, "it's hard to look at documents too much in an exhibition."
So many of "Home Front's" objects have a noticeable third dimension, and the material isn't only on a wall or under glass.
In addition to the children's toy and the dress (borrowed from the Chicago History Museum, with an 18-inch waist), there's a printing press of the era and a real vintage stereoscope along with replicas that visitors can try. The dominant type of stereoscope, you may learn or be reminded, was invented by Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Stereograms (or -graphs) and the scopes used to view them were the popular 3-D technology of the day. People would collect cards bearing side-by-side images, mount one on the device and move it back and forth along a pole until the two pictures became one to the viewer's hooded eyes. If nothing else, trying these out will remind museumgoers to never again complain about a dearth of TV viewing options.