““The river, tonally, does not recede, presenting the same lifeless grey near and far, a depthless plane upon which Schmitt’s dragging oars inscribe parallel lines and Eakins’ oars, rising and falling, leave methodically spaced patches of disturbed water. The canvas is haunting - en evocation of the democracy’s idyllic, isolating spaciousness, present even in the midst of a great Eastern city.””
