Hello, I am Michael Fratrich. I would like to thank you for finding this posting, and for your desire to learn about Eric Sloane's influence on my motivations as an artist. I would also like to take this opportunity to welcome all of the fans and admirers of the artist Eric Sloane. I too share a reverence for Sloane. His ability and philosophy have inspired generations of men, each celebrating his legacy differently according to their want and means. In this respect I am no different, advancing the legacy of Eric Sloane's influence through my own artistic means.

Eric Sloane and Michael Fratrich as a young boy, at one of the many Eric Sloane Days Fratrich attended in New York's Sugar Loaf Village.	Michael Fratrich today, New England's premier painter of Farmscapes, Covered Bridges, and the Rural Landscape.

It may be oddly stated that my relationship with Eric Sloane began prior to my birth. My parents were active and long-standing fans of the artist. Although they could never afford to purchase his paintings, they made a pilgrimage to every Sloane exhibit or ‘Sloane festival’ of the day. Additionally, my father worked all his life for a book publishing company. His contacts there provided an avenue for him to locate and purchase every Sloane book ever published. He enthusiastically awaited new releases and brought them all along on our family outings to Sloane events to be personally signed by the artist.

Sloane’s books were kept around the house and I am told by my parents that they were the ones I would reach for as a child. Though I could not yet read, the pictures mesmerized me. I am certain that my mother, caring for four children within four years of each other in age, welcomed my quiet moments thumbing through Sloane’s books. Nevertheless, she did find time to scold me if I bent the pages or mistreated the bindings. I am told that I caused quite a ruckus when my ‘Sloane privileges’ were revoked for bad behavior. Due to my unintentional mistreatment of these books as a child, my father resorted to purchasing several copies of all new Sloane publications - several for him to preserve, and one for me. I think my father won out in the end as his complete autographed collection of every Sloane book is worth a pretty penny today.

(Title Protected) by Michael Fratrich

During my childhood I often spent countless hours entertaining myself with a pencil and paper or pen and ink. I drew firemen, dragons, army figures, birds, Conan the Barbarian, and all the assorted topics that little boys draw. But the renderings I most enjoyed drawing were those depicting farm scenes and covered bridges - just like Eric Sloane drew. But how is that possible? Seriously, how could a five year old or even a ten year old claim with credibility that renderings of such subject matter be his favorite drawings? I have simply reasoned the following. Those drawings elicited the most favorable response from the only audience I had; my mother and father. They were predisposed to admiring that type of art from their reverence for Sloane’s work. My mother, who recognized an ability in me from the day I learned how to hold a pencil and put it to paper, offered constant praise, encouragement, and support. How I enjoyed the attention and affirmation I was already seeking as a young artist! And so my pen seemed to flow naturally in the direction of Americana renderings - just like Sloane’s.

I must also add, however, that my exposure to the farm scene most certainly did not begin and end with Eric Sloane alone. My family roots on both sides are directly descended from Pennsylvania farm country. How many journeys did we take packed to the hilt in old ‘Betsy’ (my father’s name for the family station wagon) traveling through Bucks County and Lancaster County to visit family and/or on day trips. Worlds of farm scenes passed me by in reverse. (My seat in the station wagon was always the pop up seat in the far rear facing the wrong direction). How I tried to shout over my brother and sisters and grandma, “Look ma! There goes another Sloane barn! There goes another Sloane barn!” “Yeah, that’s a good one!” she’d say. “Why don’t you draw that one!” I do not know how many wire bound steno notebooks that my dad brought home from work I filled with my own renderings of a backwards and beautiful roadside America.


Green Grass by Michael Fratrich

Oh the places we’d stop along the way! Such memories! Back before my mother’s illness when she could still walk, she would direct my father to pull over along the side of the road, always near the end of one day’s trip as I remember. Dad would stop along the outpost of some long abandoned field. My mother would exit the station wagon to begin scavenging for some rare field flower or cattail or some sort of growth I always considered to be weeds, but she’d make the most beautiful dried flower arrangements from them. “You don’t think the farmer would mind my taking a few of these, do you?” she’d ask my dad. “No ...I don’t think so...” he’d say, caring only for her happiness. Meanwhile, while my mother scavenged and my siblings slept exhausted from a long day driving about, I would find my way to the abandoned wagon shed or other outbuilding, if there was one, to marvel at the structure and ‘to see what the pickens was.’

On one occasion I distinctly remember the most beautiful fragrance on the air, and a little tiny building nearby. Even as a young child, I felt as though I could manage such a structure. My investigation quickly revealed a contrary aroma as I stepped inside. As soon as I saw the large round hole on the only seat in the place, I quickly put together that I had entered an old ‘necessary house.’ And I am proud to report that the plumbing worked just fine! I believe that it was through the writing of Sloane that I later learned how Early American farmers would strategically place pleasantly aromatic plantings around the outhouse. Their reasons were obvious. And I remember being very content with myself for my ability to recall my own experience as proof.

Vermont Summer by Michael Fratrich	Early American Farmscape by Michael Fratrich

“M-i-c-h-a-e-l-!” “Let’s go!” my dad would call me back when my mother had gathered enough treasure. He’d never let me take any of my ‘pickens’ with me, if I had any. I cannot tell you why I felt such euphoria after these excursions. Perhaps it is because as a child I was proud to be the only one still awake with the adults during the fading light of an exhausted day. Perhaps even as a child, my burgeoning artistic sensitivities recognized the sanctity of such a pure experience. Whatever the reason, I was always sad to see the day end. But when I made my way into the backwards seat of old Betsy for the journey home, it was over. My mom and dad were too far away to talk to over my sleeping siblings - and I’m sure they had things they wanted to discuss. And anyway, I was always quite busy in my own regard. What the hell are those accursed porcupine type pods that seem to be able to navigate their way under the cuff of your longpants and crowd the area around your ankles and shoelaces with their spiny barbs? Is this infection found in every abandoned field in the universe? Seems so! It would always take at least 45 minutes to remove all the needles from my clothing - and that’s if I still had enough light in the rumble seat to do so. On occasion, I was forced to coordinate my efforts with the fleeting light of rhythmically passing streetlamps. And even when I was sure I’d removed every barb, it still felt like I hadn’t. It was a high price to pay at the time, but my god what I would give to endure the same suffering if I could just go back one more time - watch my mother walk about on her own, investigate an old outbuilding or scour an abandoned field with her seeking treasures and pickens!    As I sit here and write, my gut wrenches with the torment and futility of my own hopeless desire. My mother will never walk again. And we will never again share such an experience. But what I can do, and have done, and will continue to do is make durable recollections of these past experiences in oils. It is my way of stepping back impossibly into time to relive the halcyon days of my youth. And I cannot help the fact that my exposure to the artist Eric Sloane since earliest childhood has so much to do with how I now format my desire to paint these recollections. I was affixed a ‘Sloane lens’ shortly after birth - if you will. Out of my control. I probably thought everyone saw things the way Sloane did, the way I did. How would a boy in my circumstance conceive otherwise?

'Halo'' by Michael Fratrich

I do not know what chemical processes in the brain control the intake of information, process it, and send it out through the artist, paintbrush in hand standing at the easel. But I do know this, my ‘Sloane lens’ largely governed my initial processes at the beginning of my artistic career. Somehow or other, as a child - and without even knowing what I was doing, I must have reverse engineered a great deal of Sloane renderings and linked their components to the real life farms and fields and fence posts, etc. that I experienced. Then, when I represented these subjects in oils myself, my brain followed the same path back to produce my Original Oil Paintings.

I realize that many Sloane fans are very protective of their beloved Sloane. And I am one of them. And we demand accountability should someone trespass upon his sacred ground. So I prefer to operate under complete transparency and acknowledge the influence that Sloane had on me. My reasons for painting are uniquely my own; and I am happy to share them with whomever cares to hear tell. I acknowledge the influence that Sloane had on me in the early stage of my development as a painter. And I also acknowledge that my own natural progression as a successful developing artist is moving me past my 'Sloane phase'. So be it. I will forever be grateful for Sloane's effect on me, and I am content with it, such as it is.



My 'Knowing' Eric Sloane


Eric Sloane and I at one of his last
'Sugar-Loaf Village' shows before his death.

Eric Sloane made himself so accessible to his admirers that everyone seems to have 'known' him. And so regarding my knowing Eric Sloane personally, I will say that I came to know him only from seeing him often enough at his own events (book signings, painting shows, the annual Eric Sloane Day in Sugarloaf Village, etc.) for him to claim to recognize me by sight at subsequent events. I often requested critiques from him of my early pen and ink renderings. I’ve since learned from his writings how much he hated that - and I’ve often wondered if he was referring to his experiences with me!    I was not aware of it at the time because I was only a boy and so could not conceive being a nuisance, but now I am certain that he exercised a tolerance for me that he surely would not have afforded an adult. I had great luck with him on occasions, and much less on others, due to his variable temperament.


Sloane encouraged me to reproduce his images ‘If it made me happy,’ he said once. But I must say I was just a boy at the time, and I do not think he knew then I would become the best “Sloane school” artist in the country, even if I do say so myself!  :)  As far as him teaching me personally, Sloane did not believe that true art could be taught and so never had a student. He believed that true art was born of vision, not in hand skills. And so learned technique could neither produce true art nor an artist of renown; at most - only picture painters. And now I must confess that I do not know if I am stating his beliefs or mine. And therein is a commonality I share with Sloane.

Since earlier than I can remember, access to his books, illustrations, writings, shows, paintings, etc, all contributed to formatting my own artistic vision. My parents tell me his books were the only ones I would flip through as a child - before I could even read them. Suffice it to say that I share a portion of his vision which he himself inadvertently developed in me.

Sloane did write one ‘how to’ book regarding painting. But to my recollection it has mostly to do with proper coloring and composition based on his knowledge of meteorology. Any artist having read this book may claim to have been instructed by Sloane. But my instruction from Sloane is far too vast a topic to completely relay here. I could easily do a book on it. I have catalogued much of Sloan’s advise, comments, instruction, etcetera, regarding the production of true art as he saw it. Much of it is coincidental on his part, and not intended as instruction. It is a comment of his that slipped out in chapter one of his first book and was inadvertently followed up on 45 years later in the middle of his 35th book, or possibly it is information I gleaned from a quote of his in an article about him in a 1974 Americana magazine, and so on. There is also much about Sloane’s work I have learned from him that not only did he never intended to teach, but he never even spoke. For example, my father’s and my book collection numbers in the many thousands - mostly antique and mostly regarding Americana. These are the same books that Sloane occasionally used during his lifetime as a source of inspiration for his paintings. During extremely extensive research while writing a book on Sloane, I have located black and white photos in these antique books that he used to produce paintings directly from. Locating an image of his completed painting in color derived from these black and white photos has allowed me to map and study his thought process as an artist. I have examined his motive to use color, set mood, produce contrast, adjust light, make purposeful compositional changes, etc. to name just a few things, and I’ve distilled them to painting theory. I have taken from Sloane that which I have extracted for myself, and have discarded from Sloane all I have disagreed with. And that is the extent to which I have taken instruction from Sloane.

Homefield by Michael Fratrich

I cannot accurately estimate the hours I spent matching old photos to Sloane's paintings, and I grant that it may be difficult to convince Sloane fans that he even painted from photos as he claimed to paint from memory, mostly. Nevertheless, I have a plethora of rock solid proof and my research evidence is irrefutable. I do believe that my desire (sickness) to ‘know why to know how’ has facilitated my ability to ‘map the genius’ of Sloane, and I consider myself a foremost authority on his painting technique and philosophy. After all, I can produce a 'Sloane' painting with great facility.

Rather than publishing my findings on Sloane's technique and ability to compose worthy paintings, I feel that I serve Sloane’s legacy better by being the best painter I can be. And, in fact, my own technique has now moved beyond Sloane's direct painting methods to my own indirect painting methods, which Sloane seldom (if ever) used. Currently, I use Sloane inspired technique to produce small architectural 'studies' in preparation of larger more elaborate works. However, should I ever feel the urge to paint large works using Sloane inspired methods, I most certainly would!

In closing, I would like to say that I am honord to contribute as a participant in the legacy of Sloane. One theme did he express continually during his lifetime as a writer and painter and historian, and that was his wish to increase the awareness of our Early American Heritage. Through me, Sloane has succeeded, as I have taken up a portion of his vision and made it my own. I am expressly what he hoped to create. I am satisfied with my own bona-fides, and I am grateful for the opportunity to extend his legacy through my own artistic vision. Thank you Eric Sloane for initiating my course as a successful American Artist!   ...Michael Fratrich

Field Marshal by Michael Fratrich

Michael Fratrich Paintings are available in Manchester Vermont at Manchester Fine Art Gallery 4952 Main St Manchester Center VT 05255 802-362-2112 www.vtartgallery.com

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Eric Sloane Biography