|
[3] - The dates for the great history of the
American School are beginning to accumulate, and though they are not as
yet very numerous they mostly appertain to that early, tentative period
which is more interesting than any other until you arrive at the complete
flower and highest development of the art. If we have not yet quite reached
to the Umbrian or the Venetian school we may be said to have gotten past
the primitives and Giotto's "O." As the World's Columbian Exposition of
1893 marks a certain epoch in this history, a date which may be called
that of the second stage of artistic growth, a little chronology may be
in order. The real beginning of the revival of general interest in art
in this country is generally ascribed to the year of the Philadelphia Centennial,
1876, but of course there had been artists, academies and exhibitions long
before that. One historian moves this date back forty years, to the occasion
of a little social reunion of the painters of New York city in the "room"
of Mr. Morse, at No. 96 Broadway, one evening in June, 1825. The "American
Academy of Fine Arts" was then the official home of the art of the city,
if not of [4]
the country, having been founded in 1802, chartered in 1808, and was "composed
chiefly of gentlemen of every profession except that of artist." The President
was Colonel John Trumbull, the painter, then about seventy years of age,
and the curator's name is not given, but to these two officers is due the
credit of having made the Academy so illiberal and unpopular as to bring
about a revolt among the younger painters and the eventual establishment
of a more modern institution. The many trials and disappointments of his
career had not been without their effect upon Trumbull's temperament, he
had become arbitrary and excitable and persistently opposed the establishment
of schools of art, - a measure in which he was cordially seconded by the
curator, an old soldier of the Revolution. Young students were nominally
permitted to draw from the antique casts in the Academy only on summer
mornings, from six to nine o'clock, but they were "sometimes admitted and
sometimes excluded," says one of them. "They frequently had to wait for
hours for admission, and were then often insulted - always if they
presumed to knock. Naturally, one fine morning two of these thus
rejected applicants went home and drew up petitions and remonstrances;
Mr. Morse's little party, to eat "strawberries and cream," aided greatly
in establishing a bond of union and an era of good feeling among the younger
artist, and an a conference held in the following November the "New York
Drawing Association" was organized with Mr. Morse as president. In consequence
of the hostility shown by the old Academy to all attempts made to effect
a junction of the two institutions, the younger Association resolved itself,
in the following January, into "The National Academy of the Arts of Design."
The first exhibition of the new Academy was held in May, 1826; in 1841,
the elder institution expired and its effects were purchased by its successful
rival for $400; and the latter, in 1860, acquired the site on the corner
of Fourth Avenue and Twenty-third street where its Venetian palace now
stands. These were the beginnings of the oldest series of uninterrupted
annual art exhibitions in this country, the Pennsylvania Academy of the
Fine Arts, which was founded in 1805, counting some five less in number,
though in its old building, destroyed by fire in 1845, the first annual
exhibition was held in 1811. The schools of the latter institution were
started in a small way in the autumn of 1807. The "Philadelphia School
of Design for Women," was established in 1853, and in the same year a few
paintings by "Members of the New York Water Color Society" appeared in
the Crystal Palace exhibition in New York. The initial exhibition of the
"American Society of Painters in Water Colors," the first permanent organization
for the encouragement of this art, was not held, however, until December,
1867. The Philadelphia "Artists' Fund Society" traces its origin back to
the "Society of Artists of the United States," organized by members of
the Academy and incorporated in 1813 as the "Columbian Society of Artists,"
Thomas Sully being the first Secretary. In 1854, Mr. Peter Cooper laid
the foundation of the "Cooper Institute," in New York, "to be devoted forever
to the union of art and science in their application to the useful purposes
of life;" in the following year the "Boston Art Club" was organized; the
"Brooklyn Art Association" was instituted in 1861 and incorporated in 1864,
and in the latter year was founded [5]
the "School of Art connected with Yale College." The "San Francisco Art
Association" was organized in 1871; the "Washington Art Club" and the "Art
Students' League," of New York, in 1875, the latter now the largest and
most important art school in the country, and the "Society of American
Artists," organized in June, 1877, held its first exhibition in March of
the following year. From this period the dates become too numerous for
this history; the great movement was fairly under way, and it was left
to the artists of the country to demonstrate the existence of a national
school worthy of the name, and for which something more is necessary than
academies and societies.
WHETHER they have done so yet, or not, may be judged for himself by
each visitor to the Art Galleries at Jackson Park according to his own
lights. That the school is not racially "national" in the sense that bison
and maize are national products, is evident enough. But that some of the
American painters and sculptors have manifested a new and individual insight
into old themes, and that others have discovered the old, imperishable
inspiration in the new, Western themes, and that others still have displayed
fine qualities of artistic curiosity, ingenuity and cleverness in their
treatment of the bison and maize subjects, are also evident. Among the
most distinguished of the latter, the visitor will probably place Winslow
Homer, A. B. Frost and Fred B. Remington; and among the sculptors, J. Q.
A. Ward and the animal modelers; among those of the second class, Mr. Homer
again, George De Forest Brush's Indian and Aztec pictures, Eastman Johnson.
The landscape painters do not properly come into consideration here, because
their subjects, though geographically new to art, are in reality the same
as those of all other schools, if not since Claude of Lorraine at least
since 1830. The Americans who have put new wine into the old bottles of
Art are not, perhaps, very numerous, but they are among the most distinguished,
and here the sculptors, strange to say, make a brave showing. Augustus
St. Gaudens, Olin Warner, Philip Martiny, Daniel C. French, and among the
animalists, E. C. Potter, who executed the proud horses of Columbus' Quadriga,
over the Peristyle. Among the painters are Abbot H. Thayer, Mr. Brush,
John La Farge, Thos. C. Dewing, H. Siddons Mowbray and several more. These
lists may be lengthened, but they cannot be abbreviated, and, after all,
this classifying and cataloguing matters but little. The painters never
take the trouble to do it themselves; and though their technical criticism
of their fellows is not always pitched on the lofty and serene plain of
clear-sighted, dispassionate judgment they are not apt to befog the issues
with literary and historical reminiscences.
Two easel paintings by resident artists in the year preceding the opening
of the Columbian Exposition were generally accepted as marking one of the
very highest levels which American Art had [6]
attained. One of these was the large "VIRGIN ENTHRONED," by Mr. Thayer,
and the other the small portrait group of his family by Mr. Brush. Both
were shown at the exhibition of the Society of American Artists in New
York in 1892, and the "Virgin" is at Chicago. This picture has been declared
to be "reminiscent of the best qualities of the fourteenth century," and
Mr. Brush's, of those of the best of the Dutch masters, but these reminiscences
are not very important. Mr. Thayer's Virgin sits serene and sweet, looking
at the spectator with pure eyes that see him not, and on either side of
her kneel little maids in attitudes of adoration, but who are evidently
posing to be painted and nothing more. Nevertheless, so quiet, so spiritual,
is this work of art that the spectator feels an impulse to uncover before
it, - which is much more than can be said of most paintings of the Virgin.
The color is rich, but sombre rather than brilliant, evidently painted
with great care and thoughtfulness, with many experiments and erasures
and paintings over, the serene result attained arrived at through much
tribulation. But the tribulation was the painter's, and not the spectator's.
Mr. Thayer's quality as one of the most spiritual-minded of modern artists
had been demonstrated before this, notably by his beautiful white winged
figure sent to the Paris Exposition of 1889. Like Mr. Brush, he finds the
models, or at least the suggestions, for his beautiful, dispassionate figures
among the members of his own family. Like Mr. Brush, also, alack! He has
the faculty of returning to his chef-d'oeuvre, pulling it down and
arranging the materials in a new combination, - a fatal quality, common
to the practitioners of all the arts, and which, if it frequently result
in the production of another masterpiece still more frequently eventuates
only in the cheapening of the one already perfected. This of course is
done, chiefly, because of the limitations of the human imagination; but
also, sometimes, from a laudable ambition to do better, from the strong
necessity felt of doing something, - and from the never-sufficiently-to-be-lamented
desire for gain.
It is not too much to say that the visitors to the exhibition of the
Society of American Artists in 1893 experienced a real shock at seeing
again in a large canvas on the walls Mr. Thayer's beautiful Virgin and
her two attendants, but this time unthroned, and scurrying in flight, hand
in hand, over a windy hill-top among the brambles of which drapery and
the tender limbs of the children seemed to suffer. As a painting, this
canvas was scarcely, if any, inferior to the first; as a work of art it
was inferior only because the stillness, the serene, spiritual influence
had been replaced by something also quite admirable but not so high. This
hill-top, these hurrying figures, the great blue and white sky behind them,
were also illumined by that light that never was; but to paint another
masterpiece Mr. Thayer has injured his first. Likewise Mr. Brush, not content
with having achieved an [7]
immense triumph by having suddenly abandoned a field in which he had distanced
all his rivals for another in which, at the first coup, he distanced
almost everybody, must needs undertake to do it over again on a larger
scale, and do it not so well, certainly no any better. The keen critical
enjoyment with which the connoisseur contemplates the original, one of
the pictures of the world, is dashed by his uneasy consciousness that somewhere
else there is another rendering of the same theme, as good or not as good,
but which completely destroys the uniqueness of this treasure. The high
artistic qualities of this little picture are as undefinable as these qualities
generally are; the mother, dressed in black, sits holding in her lap her
plump little blond son, the comely Scandinavian maid stands behind her
chair in attendance, the draftsman sits on the floor in front of them and
addresses himself to his task of portraiture. The likenesses are undeniable,
these sitters are all real, solid, individual, and yet sublimated, ineffable,
the better aspect of them presented, probably somewhat as in Rossetti's
"...murmuring courts... Where the shapes of sleep convene."
The owner of the "Virgin Enthroned" is Mr. J. M. Sears of Boston,
and that of the "Portrait" is Mr. Potter Palmer of Chicago.
Another one of these dreamers who, at times, is undeniably touched with
the live fire from the altar is Mr. J. Alden Weir. More than almost any
of his countrymen has Mr. Weir experimented with his technical processes,
and in the fifteen years or so that have elapsed since he returned from
his studies in Paris his admirers have witnessed some very radical changes
in his theory and practice. None of these new departures have been uninteresting,
and some of them have been very successful; in one at least, "The Open
Book," has he burst through the veil and brought back a little vision,
so simple, so beautiful, as to be, past doubt, a bit of inspiration. This
picture has been classed among the painter's impressionistic ones, but
with no reason beyond a certain devotion to color values and certain peculiarities
in the brush work. No Impressionist know to Fame has any such fine visions
as this, very few of them could design so refined a figure, and very few
can attain to such color harmonies. What there may be in this open book
in the lap of this mystical damsel seated out in the open and looking up
to the sky, we do not know, and we should be very presuming if we ventured
to ask the painter. This picture was first shown at the exhibition of the
Society of American Artists in 1891.
[8] Mr. La Farge is an
older man and his methods are different. If it could be said that Mr. Weir
was an artist first and then a painter, there would be no doubt that Mr.
La Farge was first a painter. Things seen and unseen appeal to him because
of their color quality; the painter's eye that dissects and appreciates
and reconstructs is his. Any by color he does not understand the grays
of the modern school but the splendor of the Venetians. It is this characteristic
that has given him his high reputation as a decorator; in the magnificent
possibilities of stained glass he is amongst his own. "The Visit of Nicodemus
to Christ" is a good example of his work; this is not a draftsman's version
of the interview, nor a theologian's, nor a devout man's, nor a mystic's
except in so far as all rich color is mysterious and impressive. Tonings-down
and smotherings of Nature in a fog or a mosquito net, are not the only
methods, there is a glory in pigments for your easel pictures and church
windows, to be tempered with a due regard for your architecture or your
interior when it is a mural painting. But do not let yourself be hampered
too much by the rules-of-thumb, even in the latter case, - there is a tradition
in the church of Saint Thomas in upper Fifth Avenue in New York city that
the aged rector of the sacred edifice wept real tears when he saw the "Renaissance"
painting with which Mr. La Farge had adorned his "Gothic" church. It must
be said that this painter's theory as to non-originality - if he has such
a one - does not obtrude itself much in his work, the photograph or the
bas-relief is not particularly apparent. Messrs. Dewing and Mowbray, whose
works we will come to consider later have also illuminated the old themes
with new lights, but in totally different methods, - it was as if one at
the outset found his inspiration in Emerson and the other in the Arabian
Nights. Naturally, the latter had the much surer guide, the sage of Concord
rather tripped up the painter and had to be abandoned but the tales of
Shahrazad have furnished one of her multitude of lovers with fortune. Mr.
Dewing has since gotten so far away from literary subjects that his mural
decorations of late years have been the simplest of allegories, graceful,
serene floating figures that may mean pretty much anything you please,
and his most distinguished latest easel pictures are simple studies of
other graceful ladies, of the earth, earthy, but gowned like beautiful
dreams. Mr. Mowbray has not troubled himself much about the Marids and
the Afrits, the islands of Wak-Wak or the terrestrial paradise of Sheddad
the son of Ad, [9] but
he has reproduced in a series of glowing little canvases the boudoirs and
gardens of Rose-in-Bloom and the princess Budoor, their furnishings and
the visions that disengage themselves from them, the pastorals, the idyls,
the invisible concerts and the evening breezes - sometimes with a fashion
of instruments and apparel which Budoor had never foreseen but which, all
the same, came from these gracious happenings of the time of Aladdin.
Among the sculptors in this group of American artists who have know
how to put new wine into old bottles - to the betterment of both - are
Messrs. St. Gaudens, Warner, Martiny and French, to name only a few. The
third apparently owes some of his inspiration to the first, and his work,
as shown at Jackson park, mainly on the Agricultural Building, varies up
and down a rather long scale of merit, as, indeed, does that of most men.
Mr. St. Gaudens, unfortunately, is not represented in the exterior, decorative
sculpture of the Exposition excepting by his lightly-poised figure of Diana
on the dome of the Agricultural Building, who sways with the wind and alternately
threatens with her gilded shaft all the corners of the world. This lady,
as is well known, was originally intended for the graceful Spanish tower
of the Madison Square Garden in New York city, and adorned its topmost
summit for many months, till the architects, jealous of her beauty and
stature, caused her to be dismounted and sent Westward in favor of a similar
but less imposing successor. Mr. St. Gaudens was largely consulted in the
early days of the Fair by the associated architects in all projects relating
to the decoration of the grounds by sculpture and monumental fountains,
columns, etc., and in the choice of artists to execute these works, and
the highest tributes have been paid to the character of the influence which
was thus brought to the aid of this most important embellishing. The city
of Chicago - which will certainly have to be reckoned with in all future
art chronicles - is fortunate, among other things, in containing, in one
of its public parks, that statue of Abraham Lincoln which is, up to date,
Mr. St. Gaudens' most important commemorative work and which may remain
the most important of his life. Mr. Olin Warner was likewise too full of
other affairs to lend his talent directly to the adornment of the Exposition
Buildings, but Messrs. Martiny, French, and a third, Mr. Theodore Bauer
- whose name should not be omitted from any list of those few modern sculptors
who most completely, by a sort of natural instinct, avoid that deadly danger
of their profession, the commonplace - have furnished some of their best.
All the numerous groups, single figures and caryatids of the Agricultural
Building, with the exception of the sculptures [10]
of the pediment by Larkin G. Mead and Mr. St. Gaudens's Diana on the dome,
are by Philip Martiny, and of these the most worthy of his talent are probably
the figures on the upper portions of the exterior piers holding aloft the
tablets with the signs of the Zodiac. The cattle groups surmounting the
globes of the "horoscope," were courageously borrowed from Carpeaux's famous
group because nothing else would be quite so completing and decorative
in aspect. On the central piers of the Palace of the Liberal Arts in the
Paris Exposition of 1889 were placed similar groups, with the modification
that the supporting figures were boys and the globes themselves had the
spaces between their metal ribs, or lines of longitude, filled in apparently
with crystal, which added to the decorative and cheerful effect. Of Mr.
French's work, that with which he is probably the most satisfied is, not
the colossal, architectural, modern-archaic statue of the "Republic," but
the beautiful, graceful virgins full of life and movement, who lead Mr.
Potter's almost equally admirable horses in the chariot group on top of
the Peristyle. "The whole composition is exceedingly rich in grouping,
joyous and free in movement, and robust in execution," says Mr. F. D. Millet,
who is good authority. "No more monumental group has been designed in modern
times, and there could be no more fitting climax to the whole of the sumptuous
series of statues around the main court."
As to the art creed of those American artists who find inspiration in
the new, it cannot probably be better defined than in the words of Mr.
Brush, one of the most distinguished of the younger members of this group.
"In choosing Indians as subjects for art," he says, "I do not paint from
the historian's or the antiquary's point of view; I do not care to represent
them in any curious habits which could not be comprehended by us; I am
interested in those habits and deeds in which we have feelings in common.
Therefore, I hesitate to attempt to add any interest to my pictures by
supplying historical facts. If I were required to resort to this in order
to bring out the poetry, I would drop the subject at once." This would
be a good foundation on which to build that "American School" which is
so constantly demanded of us. This painter may be held to have satisfactorily
demonstrated that it is the old poety and not the new ethnological theme
which interest him; he has passed from his Mandan and Crow subjects of
some six or eight years ago, through the medium of domestic portraiture
perhaps, to a "Leda" of this year of grace, full of charm [11]
and distinction, shown at the exhibition of the Society of American Artists.
In the ground-floor galleries of the palace at Jackson Park - in which,
presumably, it was the intention of the Commissioners to exhibit the better
works of each painter - Mr. Brush is represented, in addition to his large
"Mother and Child," by two of his aboriginal subjects which attracted the
most attention when they first appeared, the "Indian and the Lily," owned
by Mr. C. D. Miller of Jersey City, and "The Sculptor and the King." IN
the former, a stalwart brave, his strong Roman profile relieved against
his own flowing black hair and attired in a beautiful pair of yellow, embroidered
leggins and a white swan swung at his back, lays his bow on the ground
and clutching a pendant vine with one hand stoops over, rather stiffly,
to pluck a white water lily with the other. The attitude is one which the
heralds might call "displayed." but it is not quite as plausible as it
is effective. The desire of this morose and unsatisfied warrior for the
fragrant flower is one of those for which we have "feelings in common."
In the well-known "Sculptor and King" the painter went farther afield and
endeavored to restore a bit of the old Aztec civilization of Central and
Southern America, - the bas-relief which the artist has just completed,
and which the king has come to inspect, begin borrowed from the figure
of one of the adoring divinities that stand, one on each side of the curious
idols or trees of life on these mysterious monuments from Yucatan. This
carving, much larger than life and executed in a polished reddish stone,
is placed at one end of a long bare gallery and the two living figures
contemplate it from a respectful distance, the sculptor resting one knee
on the handle [12] of
an immense globular vase and the king with folded arms and a masterful
aspect. The monarch wears a fine plume and dress of feathers, long leggins
and a great bluish-black cloak over his shoulders; the sculptor, only an
apron of pink woven stuff with a worked design. On the floor, to complete
this severe composition, lies a gray and black blanket, similar in pattern
to those of the Apaches of the present day. The brush work and the precision
of design in these works suggest Mr. Brush's master, Gerome, the color
is sober, harmonious and true, - there is also always something suggested
on the inherent unloveliness and lurking tragedy of savage or semi-civilized
life, the gloom of the primeval forest and of the early age. All these
qualities, except the smoothness and precision of the brush work, disappear
in the painter's latest works. To "The Sculptor and the King," was awarded
the first Hallgarten Prize at the National Academy of Design in 1888.
WINSLOW HOMER is worthily represented by fourteen canvases, half
of them from the gallery of a collector of New York, and ranging from his
latest vigorous studies of wave and rock on the wintry coast of Scarboro
to one or two examples of his early period, - as the negroes "Dressing
for the Carnival," painted in 1877. In the latter, the Virginia family,
of a wonderful blackness, have come out and stood in a row in the sun to
array the head of the house in flaming yellow and vermilion for some great
occasion, - and the result is something to make the spectator blink. The
Adirondack subjects, the "Camp Fire," "Two Guides" and "Hound and Hunter,"
represent three different aspects of the life of the wilderness rendered
directly and without any preoccupations, - the stillness and blackness
of the nocturnal forests (haunted however by nothing more mysterious or
awful than a possible bear), the bigness and windiness and color of the
mountain top, and the case in which the purely human interest asserts itself
and the landscape discreetly retires into a subordinate position. All these
are rendered simply and directly and yet by an artist, and not by a mere
camper-out who knows how to paint. Mr. Brush's hunting scenes are marked
by another touch, a sort of classic form, the antique tragedy again when
an Indian shoots a moose. And when one reflects on the almost complete
omission of the artistic in the hunting scenes of all schools, from Snyders
down, the American school seems to be entitled to another honor.
Mr. Homer's sea pieces, are perhaps, more sophisticated. Here, even
when he sets out, apparently, only to make a study of the ultramarines
and turquoises and emeralds of a single wintry wave [13]
breaking on a slaty ledge of rock there is a suspicion of picture-making,
and some of his open sea themes, "The Fog Warning" and "Lost on the Grand
Banks," are complete works of art, - theme, design, color and human interest,
all being present. A little general, human knowledge is here, as elsewhere,
necessary, but when that is given there is something curiously ominous
in the menacing tongues of fog that the lone fisherman in his dory sees
shooting up on the horizon, and something very tragic in the two caught
in this misty embrace and peering anxiously over their gunwale into the
hopeless obscurity. "Eight Bells," "Herring Fishing," etc., bring us back
to less disturbing themes, and we have leisure to appreciate the painter's
rendering of the saltness and color and freshness of the sea. All these
are very different from Mr. Homer's early war pictures, or New England
farm scenes, or studies of tropical landscapes, and yet all are marked
by that robustness and un-grossness of painter's talent which makes his
works conspicuous among those which have caused the wonder of the foreign
visitors at the American display.
Two of the best of the many works of art which MR. EASTMAN JOHNSON has
evolved out of New England are shown here, - the "Cranberry Harvest," of
1880, and the "Nantucket School of Philosophy," painted seven years later.
Both of these are well known, the former and the "Funding Bill" being what
might be called Mr. Johnson's show pictures. Few more satisfactory paintings
record the (apparent) charm of rural labor than this pleasant rendering
of the Nantucket population turned out en masse in the cranberry
bog to glean that toothsome harvest. Everybody is here, the stout matron
who finds the lowly labor but ill adapted to her habit of body, the old
grandfather in his respectable battered high hat who has brought a kitchen
chair along to ease his aged back but who works industriously, all the
same, even the baby in the unwilling arms of its biggish brother. The youthful
members of the community go down on hands and knees by platoons, there
is a wonderful variety of stoopings, and the mellow afternoon sunlight
glorifies calico gowns and old straw hats and the fruitful valley lying
between the low hills. In the "School of Philosophy" we see four or five
of these grandfathers transferred to winter quarters around the village
shoemaker's stove, that worthy member of the community on his bench and
hard at work. The others smoke and expound, or perhaps they only smoke,
- which may be the truest philosophy. The distant corners of the council
chamber vanish in the dusky obscurity; a sentiment of wisdom and gravity
- not unmixed with a touch of sarcasm - settles down over the scene. Nothing
can be more discreet; and few genre pictures more acceptable.
[14] The "Cranberry Harvest"
is from the collection of Mr. Auguste Richard, of New York, and the "School
of Philosophy," from that of Mr. E. D. Adams, also of New York. Among the
three or four portraits which Mr. Johnson also exhibits one is that well-known,
life-size "Portraits of Two Gentlemen" painted in 1881, and another is
one of the latest nocturnal studies of his own portly and handsome figure
with which this painter amuses himself and his friends from time to time.
This presentation stands squarely on its feet, hands on hips, and looks
challengingly at the passer-by.
Among the ingenious renderers of the aboriginal, bison and maize
subjects - to follow our original summary classification - of those few
whom we have named these galleries, rather curiously, offer but very few
examples. Mr. J. Q. A. Ward does not appear among the sculptors, and the
best of the animal groups here suggest Barye and Cain rather than any fresh,
truly American, inspiration. In the large North Court where the marbles
and bronzes and plasters of the United States most do congregate there
are at least two life-size buffalo hunting groups and one grizzly bear
one, but of these large pieces much the best and most sculptural is Mr.
C. E. DALLIN's bronze "Signal of Peace," an all but naked Indian sitting
peacefully unadorned pony, the latter standing quietly on his four legs,
and the natural forms of the two animals in their most natural positions
affording the sculptor a theme which the Greeks would have appreciated.
Mr. PAUL BARTLETT'S life-sized study of the nude, the plaster statue of
a "Ghost Dancer," dancing vigorously with his whole body, is interesting
technically, but Mr. CARL ROHL-SMITH's portrait, head of "Kicking Bear,"
chief of the Sioux, also interesting as a study of the model and the type,
is somewhat more acceptable as a conventional piece of sculpture. Mr. "Mato
Wanartaka," it may be observed, appears to be by no means a fine-looking
warrior, even as a red man. Mr. KEMEYS has a number of his spirited animal
groups, mostly small bronzes, jaguars, bulls, panthers, deer, and even
a boa constrictor, most of these animals engaged in giving a very plausible
demonstration of the Darwinian principle of selection by the survival of
the strongest according to the naive and direct way in which the animals
understand this great truth. His largest group, however, is restful and
peaceful enough, an American panther and her cubs in the privacy of their
domestic life and very much like pussies of a larger growth. Messrs. PROCTOR
and POTTER exhibit their work out-of-doors. OLIN L. WARNER's bronze medallions
of certain Indian heads seem to have been selected from rather uninteresting
savages. Of the painters of this group, Messrs. FROST and REMINGTON, two
of the most distinguished, appear only among the illustrators, and certain
canvases by other artists who have revealed the true national twang in
their works we will discover later in our exploration of these galleries.[15]
These are all, practically, resident painters and sculptors, who content
themselves with the usual, occasional, tourists' trip abroad, but there
are very distinguished artists exhibiting in the American galleries who
live in America very little, or not at all, or only by interludes. Mr.
MILLET, for example, the illustrious Chief of the Designing Department,
has a picture in the section of Great Britain, with an English address,
"Broadway, Worcestershire," and is said to have been on the steamship wharf
at Jersey City on the point of sailing with his family for Europe when
he received the telegram of the Director's requesting his services at Chicago.
So as the family sailed Eastward he journeyed Westward with a fine subordinating
of pleasure to duty. The eccentric Mr. WHISTLER has elected to exhibit
in the American section altogether - possibly remembering the unpleasantness
which is said to have attended his transferral from one nation to the other
at the Paris Exposition of 1889; and Mr. SARGENT, who is practically a
man without a country but none the less lucky and exalted, displays a brilliant
array of his portraits. Painters as far apart in everything a Mr. VEDDER
in Rome, Messrs. WEEKS and HARRISON in Paris, and Mr. ABBEY in London,
all send home loyally [16]
their most important works to help swell the chorus that proclaims the
greatness of American art.
Among the most interesting and important of these picked canvases is
Mr. Sargent's portrait of Miss Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, owned by Henry
Irving and first exhibited at the New Gallery in Regent street in the Spring
of 1889. It was not there hung, as at Chicago, as a "centre," but it blazed
out even more vehemently among the pale and respectable English pictures.
The British matron paused a moment before it, said "Oh! I don't like that!"
and passed on. The painter undertook to epitomize the tragedy of "Macbeth"
in the portrait of an actress; he gave her an attitude - holding the crown
of Scotland poised over her head with both hands - which she nowhere assumes
in the play, and he took the sober and harmonious tones of her costume
and her braided hair and pushed them up in the scale to a pitch of barbaric
splendor and color. The face is very pale and with all the actress' tricks
of "make-up" and expression accentuated by the courageous painter, the
attitude is fierce and proud, the likeness is evident, - it is a portrait
and a drama, both at once. Of more conventional sitters there are seven
of Mr. Sargent's presentations, all of them marked by his well-known characteristics,
the sort of keying-up of attitude and expression and color, the strong
individuality, the unmistakable life in the face and figure. In one lent
by Mr. Augustus St. Gaudens, the mother reads quietly, a little in the
shadow, while her small son standing by her knee, looks at you; another
is lent by Mr. Dunham of New York, the three-quarter length of a handsome
lady in white with her hands suddenly clasped in her lap; the half length
of a charming young girl, with very black hair and eyes, is owned by Mr.
E. F. Shepard of New York; the portrait of Mrs. Inches is very proud and
spirited, her purple velvet dress skillfully and summarily painted. In
addition to all these Mr. Sargent sends the only study of the nude he has
exhibited, the full-length, life-size, figure of a slender Egyptian girl,
standing with her back to the visitor but obligingly twisting herself round
on her supple waist to braid the long locks of her black hair and show
him her pretty Oriental profile. Near this picture, which the chaste commissioners
have banished to a screen in the upper galleries, hangs another life-sized
painting of unashamed nudity by Mr. BRIDGMANN, startlingly white in itself
and rendered still whiter by the contrast with the smooth olive tints of
the Egyptienne. It is worthy of remark that Mr. Sargent's portrait
of Lady Agnew in this year's Royal Academy is accepted as complete in its
serenity and refinement as his portraits usually are in cleverness and
dash.
The many-sided Mr. MILLET is worthy a monograph by a skillful essayist.
The contrast between his artistic temperament and his business abilities
- with his literary talent thrown in as a disturbing factor - with which
we have all been familiar for a number of years has taken on a new developments
at Jackson Park. Those believers in reasonable limitations who found it
difficult to construct a man excelling at once as war correspondent, "hustler,"
skillful story teller and still more skillful painter of charming genre,
full of subtlety, humor and mellowness, reconciled themselves to the situation
by not liking Mr. Millet's classical subjects very much. Here at least,
they said, he shows that he has [17]
boundaries like other people, - the Roman or Greek girl "Lacing her Sandal"
in the Art Gallery is a fair sample of the just good, not by any means
inspired, painting of this sort of thing that he does. But this equanimity
is now destroyed by the contemplation of the very distinguished decorative
classic paintings, truly handsome and decorative, which we find under the
domes of the Manufactures Building and the Casino, - paintings executed,
too, at the last moment, in a desperate hurry, between New York and Chicago,
in the intervals of "bossing" workmen and hurrying contractors. A fine
chance to do a big, serene classic allegory, that shall hang together,
harmonize with its fellow, with the architecture, and be better than many
of the others! Another of these new considerations emphasized by the exigencies
of the Fair, is rather a development of the old contrast - which presents
itself as more bizarre than ever to the connoisseur, lounging comfortably
on his elbows on the hand rail in front of the admirable "At the Inn,"
inspired by Shenstone's lines: - "Freedom I love and form I hate, And choose
by lodging at an inn."
Across the gallery is the equally satisfactory "Antony Van Corlaer,
Trumpeter ;" upstairs is the not-quite-so-good "Rook and Pigeon;" in England,
purchased at the Royal Academy by the Chantrey Fund, is the delightful
"Between Two Fires," all of them similar in theme and period and all of
them, you would say, painted by a fine critic, a scholar of a painter,
a philosopher who appreciates leisure, quiet, old books, old wine, old
themes, and who hates hurry, noise and common men. Fancy a reader of Shenstone
entering, con amore, into an impromptu fight of his own begetting
between his Chicago workmen and the "Columbian Guard," and cheerfully accepting
the bloody nose which he won in the fray! Before such versatility the mere
scholar can only gasp in admiration.[18]
The aforesaid connoisseur, if he be a painter, contemplating the "At
the Inn," finds himself wondering how any painter can bring himself to
the point of giving up the pure enjoyment of painting such pictures as
these even for the glory of assisting the Chicago Fair. The enjoyment,
not only of the studious ease of civilization and the true painter's pleasure
in his craftsmanship - probably of any, but also the artist's joy of creation,
of making something where nothing was before, something definite, concrete,
animate, very likely beautiful, that will be accepted by your fellow men
an industrious addition to their stock of luxurious and enlightened possessions
and ensure your name from being forgotten or omitted till the end of civilization.
The architect's creations, of course, are bigger and more important in
a material way, but a building is far from being the personal representative
of its author that a painting or a statue is, there is a very large part
of it that is other men's - both in design and execution. As to the poet
or the romancer, it is true that he has more liberty but, after all, his
productions are only words, words - thin, unsubstantial, meaning something
to this man - if he will read them - and nothing to that one; and the sculptor's
creations are fatally hampered by the limitations of his art and by the
poverty of his material. More than any other artist can the painter "let
himself go" and still have something tangible as well as beautiful, to
show for it, - according to the painter's firm belief. To leave these fields
of the intellect and the imagination both for the comparatively barren
on of the intellect alone; instead of creating, yourself, like the gods,
to supervise and arrange and bid other men to paint and to carve! It is
in the fine old period [19]
of wigs, cocked hats and sword that Mr. Millet's representative comes to
take his ease at his inn. He is a handsome young gentleman, "wearing his
own hair," as the romances of the times would say, and he sits in the cheerful
inn room at a modest little feast so well painted that it inspires the
healthful spectator with emotions of hunger as any well presented picture
of a meal should do. His hat, sword and gloves are deposited in the window
seat beside him, on the table before him the cold chicken waits invitingly
while with his chin in his hand he contemplates the comfortable maid-servant
bringing the jug of ale carefully with both hands and a snowy napkin. Nothing
can be more satisfactory. This picture won the $2000 prize at the competition
at the American Art Association in 1886 and was allotted to the Union League
Club of New York..
Mr. ALEXANDER HARRISON is represented in on of the corners of one of
the entrance galleries of the American section by three of his large canvases,
the well-known "ARCADIA," one of his careful and beautiful studies of long
lines of summer waves breaking on the beach, and a new "Bather" - the same
scene and nearly the same evening hour but enlivened by the presence of
five or six young women, some of whom splash each other in the knee-deep
water while tow sit on the sand and look on. The distant reach of pale
and opalescent waters is rendered with great skill and much charm of color;
the bathers are well designed and vigorously painted with strong hatchings
and courageous accents, but they are somehow a trifle disappointing in
their flesh tones and a good deal like each other. It is however unsafe
to criticize these details when the painter has studied his very difficult
subject and the critic has not. Mr. Harrison's "Misty Morning" is very
pleasant to the eye with its pale green tones, and he also sends a twilight
study lent by the St. Louis Museum of the Fine Arts. The "Arcadia" it will
be remembered, was hailed at first appearance in the Salon of some years
ago as one of the most brilliant examples of rendering of open air and
sunshine that the modern school had seen, and a facsimile typogravure of
this triumph of painting will be presented to the readers of this work.
On the same wall with the "Bathers" hangs CARL MARR's important canvas
of the "Summer Afternoon," lent by Mrs. Hearst of Washington, and opposite
is his immense "Flagellants, the [20]
largest and most important historical composition in the American section
and one of the largest and most important in the Exposition. Of this the
photogravure will give an excellent transcript, and of the "Summer Afternoon"
M. Leon Lambert's etching strives with much success to reproduce the charm
and truthfulness of color and warmth, the sense of security behind this
grateful leafy screen and of the blazing light outside that can only break
through in golden spots which fleck indiscriminately the ground, the active
fowl, the small dispenser of crumbs and his mother, and the feasters and
sewers beyond. There are no better renderings of this favorite and most
difficult of painter's problems in these galleries, and to the high technical
skill is added that touch of sympathy and imagination which is necessary
to complete the painting's artistic value. In comparison with this glowing
brush work the "Flagellants" seems somewhat cold and gloomy - as suits
the gloomy mediaeval subject, but there is much good painting in this immense,
crowded and well-arranged and balanced composition. The painter bestowed
upon it more than three years of labor, and it was shown with much effect
at the Munich Exhibition of 1889 where it was awarded a gold medal, begin
hung in a room entered through a dimly lighted antechamber and directly
opposite the entrance, so that the first impression was almost that of
looking out a window on the crowded and tormented cathedral street. The
foremost of the advancing multitude of figures are life-size and the difficult
perspective is well managed; against the throng of half naked and white-draped
fanatics the two dark figures of the leaders are effectively contrasted
and the banners and crucifix give accents of warner tones. The outbreaks
of these strange religious fanatics were not confined to any one country
of Europe and occurred at various intervals from the thirteenth to the
sixteenth centuries, but the painter's scene seems to take place in the
streets of an Italian city and about the period of the thirteenth century.
Traversing the country in large numbers these enthusiasts proclaimed everywhere
that the wrath of God was excited against the manifold corruptions of the
age and that the only hope of appeasing Him and averting the judgments
to follow lay in self confession [21]
and abasement and self-inflicted scourgings. Their doctrines and practices
were vehemently repudiated by the Church which suppressed them wherever
possible and executed their leaders.
A central position in one of the long walls of one of the lower galleries
has been given to Mr. BRIDGMAN's large painting of Pharoh's "Passage of
the Red Sea," etched for this publication by M. Adolphe Lalauze. This is
his largest contribution, the white "Day Dreamer" upstairs being considerably
smaller, but many of the visitors probably prefer one of his three or four
smaller reproductions of the privacy of domestic life in the East, the
dusky sultana and slaves and common mothers, their long tressed little
daughters and head shaven little sons absorbed in their daily avocations
or idlenesses. One of the most picturesque of these luxurious interiors
- in which, the artist would have us believe, the cheaper manufactured
wares of Western Europ have not yet penetrated as the travelers assure
us - is shown in the "A Hot Day at Mustapha" - omitted in the Chicago catalogue.
The "Red Sea" depicts the mad race of the Egyptian chariots for the shore
before the returning wave overwhelms them, and the stress and terror of
the flight, in which even the horses share, is very well presented. The
monarch is distinguished by his central position, by [22]
something proud and defiant in his aspect, and by the red harness and trappings
of his charioteer and his white horses. In the extreme distance beyond
him are seen the low cliffs of the shore, their top illumined by the warm
rays of the setting sun.
Another American Orientalist, Mr. EDWIN LORD WEEKS, makes a brave display
at the ends of two adjoining galleries, and his large Spanish subject,
the "Three Beggars of Cordova," is hung elsewhere. Of the latter, a reproduction
will be found on page 17, and of the large "Souvenir of the Ganges" an
etching by M. Manchon is given. These two pictures are among the four which
the painter considers his very best, the other two being the "Pearl Mosque
at Agra" and the "Restaurant at Lahore," neither of them show at Chicago.
The Ganges painting, generally know as the "Last Voyage," was one of the
first of this painter's successes and procured him an Honorable Mention
at the Paris Salon of 1885, and a first-class medal at the Exposition of
1889. Towards the holy city of Benares, rising in terraces on the farther
shore of the river, two Hindu fakirs hasten in pious pilgrimage, but the
elder of the two overcome by age and fatigue draws near the end of all
his earthly travels and the doubt is great if he can reach the sacred strand
to die. Of the three Spanish beggars sunning themselves no description
is necessary, "story there is none;" the picture received the gold medal
of the Philadelphia Art Club and was purchased for the Pennsylvania Academy
of the Fine Arts in 1891.
The most purely Parisian of the American painters is probably Mr. JULES
L. STEWART, whose celebrated "Hunt Ball," etched for this publication by
Champollion, remains one of the most successful pictures of that difficult
subject, a modern, evening entertainment. Not only has the painter contrived
to make his dancers look like gentle folks - which M. Jean Beraud, for
instance, never does - and to give a great variety of character and individuality
to his presentable young men, but he has also made something of a composition
out of his spotty and shifting crowd by suddenly striking down through
their orderless congregation the long open space made by the simultaneous
rush of the dancers, "dancing in tune." In none of his subsequent pictures
has the painter been quite so successful as in this, and several of his
best are here, - the yachting party, "On the deck of the Namouna;" the
large baptism scene; the handsome panoramic view of Venice across the lagoon,
owned by Mr. James Gordon Bennett, and two charming portraits of young
Parisian ladies, one of which was exposed at Paris in 1889. Another full
length portrait is shown among the pastels. The "Hunt Ball" is owned by
the Essex Club of Newark, N. J.
None of these absentees are less concerned about the local flavor than
Mr. WHISTLER, and the important exhibit which me makes in the American
galleries adds an individual note, although the paintings are not those
in which he makes his widest departures from the conventional.[23]
There is a large and apparently hasty sketch of a boy standing with this
legs apart which does not interest the public, but there is also an equally
summary marine, called "A Harmony in Blue and Silver" which is so excellent
in color that it almost justifies its absurd title. The full length portrait
of Lady Archibald Campbell, looking back at you over her shoulder as she
turns away, which generally appears in any state exhibition of the painter's
works, is here, and, at a little distance away, another canvas, similar
in size and motif, "The Fur Jacket," equally refined and distinguished
in its color scheme, a sort of "harmony" of olive browns. Mr. Alexander
Reid, of Glasgow, is the happy possessor of this latter, of "The Lady with
the Yellow Buskin" and of "The Princess of the Land of Porcelain," also
here catalogued, and the last named is probably the most important work
of the group. In the rendering of this Chinese or Japanese lady, standing
idly with a screen behind her, the ingenious and searching painter has
apparently set out to make a beautiful color arrangement that shall all
the time conserve something of the somewhat hard and disagreeable coldness
and quality of porcelain without being hard or disagreeable, - and a very
interesting study he has made of it. There is also a good "Nocturne," located
with more or less reason, at Valparaiso, a portrait, and about sixty etchings.
Among the painters summoned to Jackson Park to contribute to the mural
decorations of some of the more important buildings was Mr. VEDDER of Rome,
but the contrast between the two cities was too great and the artist abandoned
his commission and recrossed the seas to the Forum and the Pincio. Even
there, he finds, like Mr. Ruskin, the soul-destroying march of modern improvement
gradually abolishing all those memories which alone make life endurable
in old countries, and the absence of which makes it not endurable in new
ones. It is in accordance with these great truths that we find the most
valuable and characteristic part of the painter's exhibit in the Fine Art
Galleries those pictures which he executed long ago and with which we are
all familiar. It is much to be regretted that "The Lost Mind," probably
the most subtle and learned artistic rendering of impalpable things that
he ever executed, is not here, but in its place are the "Roc's Egg," the
"Fisherman and the Genie" and the fine "Lair of the Sea Serpent." The latter,
- a very good bit of imagining - rather curiously, does not [24]
gain much in impressiveness by its color, as the "Lost Mind" does. The
two scenes from the Arabian Nights, small canvases, will seem to many visitors
to be better painted and better conceived than some of the painter's later
work. The two large heads of "Samson" and "Delilah" are framed in appropriate
carved borders of shears, locks of hair, etc.; the "Morning" shows a half-length
figure of a young girl by a window through which the early light comes;
the "Cup of Love" is an allegory represented by three figures, the meaning
of which is not very clear; the "Soul in Bondage" is represented by a nude
female figure, winged, and loosely bound, a butterfly on her hand and a
curious sky behind her. The well-known "Young Marsyas," goat-legged and
fluting to his rabbits is also here; a study of a "Venitian Model;" and
another of three heads, of a young girl, an old man, and an angel with
a halo, - all of them discontented. In the "Sea Serpent" the sense of formidable
bulk and strangeness is admirably given, - the immense beast lies sleeping
on the sand hills of a lonely headland, the deserted sea stretching away
to the sky; and in the little picture in which the imprudent companions
of Es Sindibad of the Sea break open the Roc's egg the two distant specks
of flying birds on the horizon are evidently of the size of cathedrals.
These paintings, in which one of the elder American artists justifies
the claim of the national school to produce at least occasional works of
thoughtfulness and imaginative power, were hung in the last days of the
first month of the Exposition opposite to, and about the same time as,
Mr. ABBEY's great painting intended for the decoration of the Boston Public
Library. Perhaps it may be taken as an indication of the poverty of the
national school that this great mural painting was given to an artist who
had won his reputation exclusively as an illustrator, - though he has executed
two or three smaller decorations that are certainly decorative and harmonious
in color. But in this presentation of Sir Galahad at the court of King
Arthur - perhaps owing to the hegith at which it is hung - there seems
to be a certain lack of coherence in the color composition, there is a
spot of red on one side, which is the good knight, and another spot of
red on the other side, which is the king, and in the centre of the composition,
a hole. This is, really, a curious white veiled figure that is about to
lead Galahad to the throne. All the long background of the parallelogram
is filled with knights and angels in parallel rows, [25]
the knights holding up their cross-handled swords and the gold halos of
the angels making a long, golden arc that traverses the entire length of
the canvas. There are many very good bits of design and color in this immense
composition, and it will probably remain more interesting in the details
than in the ensemble, despite the artist's clever and courageous
attempt to tie it together with his golden arc. In the department of American
illustrations, Mr. Abbey is represented by fourteen of his drawings for
Shakespeare, to be studied and enjoyed at leisure, and in this section
the display of the United States, in size and importance and artistic value,
is worthy of our renown as book illustrators.
The works of art in the United States section reach a total of over
2500, the paintings alone numbering 1365, and it is as evidently impossible
for us to do justice even to the most worthy in this picked collection
as it is for the most industrious visitor to see them all. Of those selected
for reproduction in this work several will have to remain unnoticed for
lack of space, these selections having been made with a view of giving
a certain idea of the width of the field covered by these painters and
sculptors.
But the most important work of art in the American section may justly
be considered to be the arrangement of the mise-en-scene of the
Exposition itself, and in this connection an artist whose name should certainly
not be omitted from any record was Mr. John W. Root, whose untimely death,
only four or five weeks after his appointment as consulting architect,
was peculiarly unfortunate. Mr. Root with Mr. Burnham had been closely
connected with the development of the lofty and massive architectural features
of Chicago's business quarter, and their selection as directors of the
general laying out of the Exposition followed in the natural course of
events. During the long preliminary discussions of the Architectural Board
it was Mr. Root who drafted all the plans with his own hands as fast as
they were formulated, and the general scheme of location of buildings and
waterways as it now exists was that prepared by him in connection with
Messrs. Olmstead and Codman, the consulting landscape architects. In the
bringing about of that remarkable and effective coordination of professional
labor, so rare in thei history of architecture, Mr. Root's services were
invaluable, and so [26]
well was his preliminary work done, and so inspiriting was his own example
and influence, that this initiative force remained with his associated
and left an enduring mark on all those arrangements of the general plan
which have been considered the most valuable. On the front of the Fine
Arts Building, looking south, have been placed two memorial bronze tablets
commemorating the services of those two eminent young men who may be considered
as the martyrs of the Exposition, Messrs. Root and Codman. |