Lonely in America: The Paintings of Edward Hopper

Americans are leading lonelier lives than ever before

This painting by Edward Hopper puts the viewer on a sidewalk looking through the curved glass window of a café. "Nighthawks," 1942, by Edward Hopper. Oil on canvas; 33.1 inches by 60 inches. Art Institute of Chicago. (Public Domain)

Over 20 years ago, Robert Putnam’s “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community” posited that Americans had become increasingly disconnected from families and friends, and were joining fewer organizations than they once did. Social media increased contact between people, but these digital interactions proved an inadequate substitute for flesh-and-blood encounters. With its lockdowns and closures of businesses, schools, and churches, the COVID pandemic only deepened this sense of isolation.

Statistics back up these observations. In 2020, for instance, a survey conducted by the health insurance company Cigna revealed that three in five Americans described themselves as lonely, “reporting feelings of being left out, being poorly understood and lacking companionship.”

Heavy social media users feel more isolated than those who visit these sites less often, and members of the Gen Z generation (ages 18-22) scored highest on the loneliness chart.

Such data have caused some commentators to declare that America is suffering from an epidemic of loneliness.

Interestingly, the artist who perhaps best captured the essence of American loneliness on canvas died 55 years ago.

Alone

Edward Hopper (1882-1967) was shy, somewhat of an introvert, and a loner. As a boy, he was an inveterate reader, a habit that necessarily brings solitude, and remained a lifelong lover of the printed word. During his three visits to Paris while in his twenties, Hopper ignored modernist movements like Expressionism and Cubism, preferring to follow his own path as a representational painter.

Generally working alone there, he became enamored with the effects of light, studying various works in galleries and noting the ways sunlight struck the streets and buildings.

For years afterwards, Hopper struggled to make a name for himself as a painter, earning most of his living from commercial art, but once his works attracted the attention of critics and the public, he gained a reputation for his silences. “Sometimes talking with Eddie is just like dropping a stone in a well,” his vivacious wife Jo once remarked, “except that it doesn’t thump when it hits bottom.”

Hopper’s fascination with solitude, a mark of his lifetime portfolio, can be easily discerned in his depictions of solitary men and women. In “Automat,” for example, a woman sits alone at a marble-top table in a café, full-lipped, blush on her cheeks, dark-eyed, her face in a shadow cast by her yellow felt hat. One hand is bare, the other gloved, as if she intends to drink her coffee quickly and return to the darkness outside, yet she stares pensively into her cup. Some thought or emotion has captured her attention, delaying her departure.

The title selected by Hooper for this painting deepens this impression of solitude. An automat was a restaurant where food and beverages were served up by vending machines, eliminating the need for human workers. Though we see no sign of this automation, the painting’s name highlights the alienation caused by an increasingly mechanized culture, a phenomenon that influenced much of Hopper’s art.

In “Morning Sun,” we again find a lone woman, this time sitting on a bed and staring out an open window. (The model for this painting, as was true for nearly all of Hooper’s work, was his wife.) The sun bathes her with light, though the woman seems to take little comfort from its warmth. As in “Automat,” her expression is again a study in mystery, encouraging the viewer to guess at her thoughts.

Except for the bed, the room and walls of this room are bare of any furniture, pictures, or other decoration, causing viewers to focus all their attention on the woman. Beyond the window we see a brick factory and what appears to be a water tower, again signs of industrialization and a mechanized culture.

Does she work in the factory? Does the contrast between the sunlit human figure and the factory with its row of uniform black windows send a message? Again, we take what we want from the painting.

Alone With Others

Even some of Hopper’s paintings where two or more people appear together reflect a vision of souls confined in the self, of moments when the subjects seem to have arrived at an impasse as to what to say or are oblivious to those around them.

In Hopper’s 1940 piece, “Office at Night,” the story is again ambiguous. A secretary stands beside a file cabinet, half-turned toward her employer, who is seated at his desk examining some documents. A paper on a chair and another on the floor seem to indicate they’re working hard, but what are the intentions of this sultry woman? Is she asking her boss a question, looking at the document in which he’s engrossed, or is she engrossed in him?

In this painting by Edward Hopper, Is the woman asking her boss a question, looking at the document in which he’s engrossed, or is she engrossed in him? “Office at Night,” 1940, by Edward Hopper. Oil on canvas; 22.2 inches by 25.1 inches. Walker Art Center. (Public Domain)

In her book “Edward Hopper: The Art and the Artist,” Gail Levin notes the “apparent psychic tension between the curvaceous woman and the man who ignores her,” but also adds that Hopper himself stated that the painting “will not tell any obvious anecdote, for none is intended.”

Together with Others

In a few of Hopper’s pictures, people do mingle, but even here a sense of separation breaks into the scene. In “Hotel Lobby,” a distinguished older couple seem engaged in a conversation in the lobby, perhaps waiting for a cab before going out for the evening.

Across the room sits a young blonde absorbed in a book. The couple stands in shadows, while a brighter light illuminates the reader. Also creating a separation between them is the broad green stripe of the carpet. In addition, the ease and maturity displayed by the older couple stand in sharp contrast to the unintended sensuality of the girl.

Often cited as an example of Hopper’s focus on isolation, his most famous painting, “Nighthawks,” puts the viewer on a sidewalk looking through the curved glass window of a café. Inside are four people, a man sitting alone at the counter with his back to the viewer, a couple—the man wears a hat, coat, and tie, the red-haired woman a red dress—and a counter man.

This second man and the café’s employee seem engaged in a conversation while the woman is distracted, perhaps looking at her fingernails. As is the case with so many of his works, light plays a major role in the drama of the painting. The lone man sitting on the periphery is shrouded in shadows; the couple and the counterman are more brightly lit.

The Dialogue of Sunlight and Shadow

Hopper is also noted for his paintings of houses and other buildings, and here too the interplay of light and shadow invite the viewer to draw conclusions from the canvas.

Dotting the landscape near our major highways are old homes built before the coming of cars and expressways. Some of these are relics of those bygone days, abandoned and forlorn, slowly falling apart. Others stand in defiant resplendence, maintained by their owners in spite of the intrusions of four-lanes and speeding traffic.

One of his best-known paintings, Hopper’s “House by the Railroad” gives us such a mansion. With a railroad track in the foreground, this once-beautiful home with its columns and concave mansard has some open windows, leading us to believe the house is occupied, but the light and shadows lend a feeling of decay to the property, as does its location. The eerie pale colors of the sky seem to be swallowing up the bit of blue at the top right-hand corner of the painting, as if to signal the structure’s demise and that of the natural world.

Dull colors seem to indicate the one-impressive house has fallen into decay. “The House by the Railroad,” 1925, by Edward Hopper. Oil on canvas. 24 inches by 29 inches. Museum of Modern Art. (Public Domain)

Most critics agree that Hopper’s buildings, like his people, reflect a sense of alienation and loneliness.

The Heart and Mind of the Beholder

By now, readers unfamiliar with Edward Hopper’s work may be thinking, ‘There’s enough sadness and loneliness in the world without looking for it in a painting.”

That’s one perspective.

But we can approach Hopper in other ways as well. Those accustomed to solitude and who spend a great deal of time alone may find beauty in these paintings. They may even find meanings that push against critical analysis.

“Nighthawks,” for example, is generally accepted as a portrait of modern alienation or loneliness. The reticent Hopper himself hinted at this interpretation, but some might look at this brightly lit café on a dark city street and regard it as an oasis of warmth and safety.

Then there are the individuals deep in their own thoughts or activities, like the woman in “Automat” or the reader in “Compartment C. Car.” We might see such pictures as expressions of loneliness, but anyone who has observed a reader bent over a book in a café may have noted the sometimes ethereal beauty present in that captivated face, a calm exterior possibly concealing a whirlwind of thought and emotion.

And finally, Hopper’s work sends a strong message to our own age of alienation, digital or otherwise. By underscoring this condition in his work, he not only reveals a troubled culture, but perhaps encourages us to go a step farther and seek to break the bonds of that alienation.