P

art of the legend of Charles M.

Russell—beyond the authentic

depictions of the West, his colorful cast

of cowboy characters and reverent treatment of

Native American subjects—is the artist’s distinct

physical appearance. That thoughtful gaze. The

prominent jawline and furrowed brow. His lips

in a slight frown, more serious than angry. His

hairstyle, undercut on the sides and parted left

of center with hair swooping down around his

forehead, topped by a hat tilted back on his

head. And, of course, the iconic sash around his

waist and dangling at his side.

His appearance is just as much of the legend

as the art. And here’s a test to prove it: quick,

what does Charles Schreyvogel look like? Or

Albert Bierstadt? Describe Frederic Remington

without using the word “portly” or Thomas

Moran without using the word “beard.” You

would be forgiven for drawing a blank when

asked to pick out Maynard Dixon and William

Herbert “Buck” Dunton from a lineup of tall,

lanky men with mustaches.

But Russell was different. He had a look. It

was his own, and it made him identifiable, in

his time and still today.

Charlie

Andy

&

With a century between

them, artists Andy Thomas

and Charles M. Russell

are linked through time

by The Russell in Great

Falls, Montana.

By Michael Clawson

Charles M. Russell in his log cabin studio in Great Falls, Montana,
working on the painting When the Land Belonged to God. Stark
Photograph, 1914.

Andy Thomas in his Missouri studio.