A rich history lesson in exhibit of early American art at SAM

What comes to mind when you conjure up pictures of the early history of the United States? Washington crossing the Delaware River? Maybe some scenes from "Schoolhouse Rock" with upstart Colonists chasing Redcoats into the Atlantic Ocean? Or how about the archetypal image of the presentation of the Declaration of Independence?

Sure, you know the one: It's on the two-dollar bill and in just about every history book, showing a group of men including Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin presenting the document to John Hancock, with a gathering of Continental Congress delegates in attendance.

This famous painting, created by John Trumbull from 1786-1820, has been temporarily released from its home in the Yale Art Gallery and is now on view at the Seattle Art Museum as part of the excellent — and big — new exhibition "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness." But beware because, according to Helen Cooper, Yale Art Gallery's curator of American paintings and sculpture who organized the exhibition, while Trumbull meticulously captured the likenesses of delegates, "such a scene never took place."

Not all of the delegates were in favor of signing the document, and those who did sign came and went over the course of the day. The room where this occurred was, in reality, rather humbly furnished and certainly lacked the rich velvet curtains and elegant chairs that Trumbull included in the painting. And it was only Jefferson who handed over the document rather than the distinguished grouping of five revolutionary figures presented in the center of the composition. John Trumbull used artistic freedom to tell a story about solidarity, respectability and the unity of great individuals around a common cause.

It's a thrill to see this iconic image in person, particularly because the chances of it ever leaving the Yale Art Gallery again are virtually nonexistent. Trumbull donated this painting, the other paintings in his series about events of the American Revolution and additional works of art to the Yale Art Gallery on the condition that they were never to leave the gallery (and if there was a breach of the agreement, Trumbull stipulated that the collection was to be sent to Harvard. Trumbull obviously knew something about negotiating).

But the gallery is currently closed for renovation, and since another of Trumbull's conditions was that the collection was to always be available to the public, the folks at Yale — after many consultations with attorneys — decided to send these paintings on the road, along with more than 200 other paintings, drawings, prints, photographs, furniture, silver and ceramics from Yale's permanent collection.

It's a big show, logistically and thematically. During a recent media preview, no fewer than seven curators — five from Yale and two from SAM — were on hand to demonstrate their intimate knowledge of these objects and to outline the various themes of the exhibition.

While big shows can be rambling and exhausting, this one is beautifully presented, complete with vintage American flags punctuating several galleries, and it's thoughtfully arranged to tell familiar, key stories about American values of freedom and aspiration, and to add lesser-known, more divergent glimpses into the roughly 200 years from the colonial era to the Gilded Age.

The histories of this country can be told through visual objects in ways that words cannot always communicate. The immediacy and physical impact of many of these objects speak volumes even now — or perhaps particularly now — during our moment of American hardship and pride.

The variety of subjects, forms and media is crucial in building the layered narrative. The story of religious expression in the American colonies is told through John Smibert's wonderful large-scale group portrait of Dean Berkeley — who had hoped to found a college for Protestant missionaries in Bermuda — and through a trio of metal objects that represent different religious traditions imported to America. The Catholic Communion cup, a pewter pot made for a German-speaking Moravian community in Pennsylvania and a sugar bowl made for an Anglican merchant by a descendant of Huguenots (Protestants who had fled France due to religious persecution) communicate facets of religious freedom and practice in an almost palpable way. We can imagine these objects actually held in hands hundreds of years ago.

Other objects — idealized battle scenes, strikingly realistic portraits of the Africans who mutinied on the ship Amistad to escape slavery, silver pieces both simple and grand, glowing landscapes, finely wrought furniture, political cartoons — are both singularly expressive and cumulative in their documentary power.

This celebration of the value of artistic objects is, itself, woven through the culture of early American history. For many colonists and Americans, buying and commissioning works of art or decoration were ways of participating in the pursuit — and display — of happiness.

Perhaps in the spirit of education and access, SAM is not charging its usual super-sized special exhibition ticket price and is introducing a new military discount. As always, the ticket price is a "suggested admission fee," meaning you can make up your own sliding fee scale if you'd like. But even if you fork over the full price, it's worth it. The exhibition offers you bountiful American history as told through eloquent visual objects that may never leave New Haven, Conn., again. It just might be one step in your pursuit of happiness, and, remember — you have that inalienable right.