Another Look: Alan E. Cober

The emotive power of a crow quill pen in the hand of an empathetic artist

Here’s an updated version of one of my most popular Histories of Reportage articles with some fresh insights about the artist and new images. I hope you enjoy rereading this as much as I loved remaking it.

Texas Delegation at the Democratic National Convention by Alan E. Cober

As I write this, I’m feeling a certain amount of trepidation. I am a great admirer of Alan E. Cober (1935-1998) and his work. I met him once.* He was an artist like no other. His subject was the human condition, shedding light with an unflinching gaze on society’s harsh realities that often go unnoticed.

Cober’s courageous and raw visual commentary has inspired me and countless other illustrators, drawing from the rich tapestry of life and the socio-graphic legacies of masters like Albrecht Dürer, George Grosz, and Ben Shahn.

‘I can always remember the whole sensory experience and that's what I try to communicate through my drawings,’ - Alan E. Cober

A true New Yorker, he honed his craft at the University of Vermont and the School of Visual Arts, where he was taught the importance of observational and responsive drawing. He launched his illustration career in 1960, quickly earning recognition in national magazines, but it was in 1971, when Newsweek commissioned him to capture the stark realities of prison life, that his on-the-spot approach reignited his passion for reportage.

Sing Sing Prison, 1971

Electric Chair (Death Chamber), Green Haven Prison, Stormville, New York, 1971

Cober filled countless sketchbooks with delicate drawings created intuitively and compulsively, masterfully capturing his subjects through a remarkable blend of grit and beauty.

Driven by a desire to create change through his art, he persuaded the New York Times Op-Ed page in 1972 to send him to the controversial Willowbrook Mental Health Facility in Staten Island, New York, where he was tasked with producing two drawings but instead created fifty, portraying intellectually disabled people, the often-forgotten individuals with profound objectivity and deep empathy.

Willowbrook State Hospital

His commitment extended to retirement homes and assisted living communities, where he crafted poignant portraits of residents, attentively weaving their favorite sayings, songs, and conversations into his work, resulting in heartfelt tributes that resonate with beauty and humanity.

Portrait of my Father, 1972. Cober’s father Sol was a criminal lawyer who allowed his son to closely observe his father’s activities, gaining firsthand knowledge of courtrooms, police work and detention of criminals. This experience quickened his interest in social inequities and a darker side of life.

In 1975, Cober published 92 of his drawings in a Dover book titled The Forgotten Society, made in prisons, mental institutions, and other evocative locations.

His commercial illustrations mirrored the authenticity and vibrancy of his on-site work, demonstrating an unmatched immediacy and verisimilitude.

A mentor to aspiring artists, Cober significantly shaped the landscape of illustration by teaching advanced techniques and thematic drawing at The Illustrators Workshop. He was also a Professor of Art and Distinguished Visiting Artist at SUNY Buffalo State University, where he inspired countless young illustrators to pursue their passion.

Old Man, 1973

Alan E. Cober’s aim as a visual journalist was to be a force for change by graphically exposing the realities of our times. He was bold and non-conformist at a time when the status quo of the illustration world required distance and uniformity. He died young at the age of 63, in 1998.

* I had a fleeting encounter with Alan E. Cober back in the mid-80s during the opening of my art exhibition at the Reactor Gallery in Toronto. He was teaching at SUNY Buffalo and had come up at the invitation of my agent William Grigsby, and I was more excited about meeting him than the event itself. The gallery was buzzing with people that night, and when William introduced us, we shook hands. I began to express my admiration for his work, feeling honored to meet him. Suddenly, my father appeared behind me, calling out, ‘Billy, Billy, Billy.’ He pulled me away, insisting that I say hello to my Uncle Fred. 'Your Uncle Fred is here. He can't stay long. Say hi to Uncle Fred,' Dad persisted. In that whirlwind of family obligation, I lost my chance for a meaningful conversation with the artist I revered. In retrospect, it seems that fate had its reasons, perhaps reminding me that sometimes it's better to keep the mystique of our heroes intact.

all drawings © Alan E. Cober

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More to Know:

• Read an homage to Alan E. Cober by Steven Heller for the New York Society of Illustrators.

• The Forgotten Society from Dover Books

• Alan's daughter Leslie is currently showing her work with her father’s in a show called ‘LEGACY of the LINE’ at the Memorial Gallery at Farmingdale State College, on Long Island till 4.25.25.