That very few sculptors have devoted themselves to domestic design is due as well to the dearth of really decorative genius among them as to the claims of other commissions upon the time of those few who possess it. Partly, perhaps, to a prevalence of “high-art” notions, which regard a statue as, of itself, more worthy than a decorated object, irrespective of the skill and craftsmanship or the beauty of the design involved. Yet, I doubt if a prejudice of this sort would deter a man really possessed of the decorative instinct. It is the lack of this and of appreciation on the part of the public for personal work which forms a bar to our advancement in the arts of design; this and the preference of the architects for reproducing commercially the time-honoured forms. Encouraged by them our rich people prefer a room in which every detail is dryly imitated from a dead period to one animated by the art and spirit of to-day. So they take their morning coffee à la Louis Quinze; their luncheon in a Dutch kitchen; drop into an affectation of Japan for a cup of afternoon tea; dine in the splendour of the Grand Monarque; sip their liqueurs in Pompeii, and rest at length from this jumble of inert impressions in a chamber à l’Empire. Small wonder if their appreciation of art should be a pose and their actual encouragement of it nearly null!
OPEN-AIR DECORATION
The first great opportunity in this country for sculptors to prove their capacity in the larger field of outdoor decoration was presented by the World’s Fair at Chicago, and it brought into prominence three animal sculptors, E. C. Potter, Edward Kemeys and A. Phimister Proctor. The first named collaborated with French in the quadriga above the water-gate and in the groups of the “Bull” and “Farm Horse” in front of the Agricultural Building, displaying in the one case a fine command of spirited movement and in the other a feeling for large simplicity. These qualities he combined most effectively in the equestrian statue of Washington for the Place de Jéna in Paris, in which again his collaborator was French. The “Wild Cats” by Kemeys, which stood upon the ends of two of the bridges, were quite extraordinary examples of animal sculpture. Their stealthy, supple movement, as, bellies low to the ground, they advanced with that slow, clinging step which precedes the spring, represented the closest study of the naturalist, while the treatment of the lines and masses was altogether a sculptor’s, monumental in a high degree.
Proctor also is a naturalist and ardent sportsman, camping alone for weeks together in the forests and studying the big game at close quarters. Perhaps his instinct is naturalistic rather than sculptural. At any rate, the strongest feature of his work is its realism; yet his “Pumas,” at one entrance of Prospect Park, Brooklyn, shows a fair measure of monumental feeling. The quadriga which he modelled for the United States pavilion at the Paris Exposition was dwarfed by the structure, but when reproduced for the Ethnological building at the Pan-American Exposition proved extremely effective. On this occasion, however, it was only a part of the structure’s embellishment and not a single emphatic note, for which purpose it was too slight in composition, unduly stringy and deficient in cohesion. Proctor himself had felt it to be so, and the lesson was not lost upon him, for in his next opportunity of essaying an important composition he produced something of much more sculptural import. This was a group executed for the Pan-American Exposition, which embodied the idea of “Agriculture,” representing a man at the plow-tail, while a boy urged on the team, a horse and an ox. It was a very remarkable example of the force of realism, when governed by the sculptural intention. The mass was most imposing and full of variety of movement, through the contrast afforded by the figures: the horse vigorously straining at the traces, the ox exerting his slow, lumbering weight; the boy in free action, while the man’s was concentrated and checked. Moreover, it told its story so simply and directly, with such complete recognition of the essential points. As a piece of artistic realism, it was alive with the spirit of Millet—altogether a most memorable work.
At this exposition was also seen a quadriga by Frederick G. R. Roth. His previous work had consisted of statuettes executed in bronze, revealing a close study of unusual kinds of action, such as that of an elephant balancing himself upon a tub. He modelled a pair of these in which the mass is poised, respectively, upon the forelegs and the hind ones. Although they are very small in size they are large in feeling, with breadth of modelling and enforcement of the suggestion of bulk and weightiness. The expression of movement is admirable: felt continuously throughout the mass and varying so characteristically, according as each part contributes to the action. Nor does he neglect to secure the surface-charm of colour and texture in his bronzes; and these little objects of art make very choice appeal to sight and touch. This charm of surface is accompanied by a more vigorous display of movement in a group, which represents “The Combat” between an elephant and a rhinoceros. The latter, with hind legs planted as firmly as trees, is ramming his horn into the belly of the other beast, who has rolled over on his side and is lifting head and trunk in a spasm of pain. Again our interest is divided between the extraordinary realism of the representation and the beauty of the surfaces, shown especially in the slabs and corrugations of the rhinoceros. The stress of movement is carried still further in the quadriga. It is an incident of a “Chariot Race”; the vehicle has been whirled on to one wheel, and the driver is throwing his weight upon the opposite side to restore the balance, at the same time holding back with all his force against the strength of the four galloping horses. This group, of full size, executed in plaster, cannot fail to impress one both by its daring and by the knowledge and power displayed. Whether it completely convinces one’s imagination is less certain. The figure of the man does, so also that of the horse which is plunging in midair; but the hind legs of the others and the chariot wheel seem rooted to the ground, thereby clogging the impetus of movement. The group, in fact, raises an interesting point as to the limitation of the sculptor. A painter could give the wheel an appearance of revolving, could raise a cloud of dust around the heels of the horses and by the introduction of atmosphere resolve the rigidity of lines. Correspondingly, if this group were raised to an elevation so that the juncture of the wheels and legs with the ground were not observable, and the whole by distance were enveloped in atmosphere, the effect upon the imagination would be vastly increased, probably complete. But when it was seen at Buffalo, on a low pedestal close to the eye, the deficiencies of illusion were as apparent as they are in the accompanying illustration. However, granted that the illusion would be complete, we may question the propriety of expressing in sculpture such violent movement of progression. If stationary, an equal vehemence might still be monumental; but can one imagine any structure upon which, without detriment to its stability and impressiveness, this restless mass, hurling itself forward from its position, could be placed? Therefore, the sculptor seems to have landed himself in the predicament of needing something which he has made it impossible for himself to procure; due, if I mistake not, to his having forced the medium beyond its characteristic limits.
Eli Harvey’s observation of wild animals in confinement has resulted in some excellent statues of lions, jaguars and leopards, all of which would be eminently suitable for the embellishment of public parks. In two cases he has used lions as the motive for decorating pediments intended for the lion house of the New York Zoölogical Society. His work is at once very true to life and thoroughly sculpturesque.
In all probability, however, the finest animal group which has yet been produced in this country is the “Buffaloes” by H. K. Bush-Brown. It has been reproduced as a statuette in bronze, and in this form is a powerful and impressive work, but to appreciate to the full its conspicuously monumental character, the dignity of its bulk and of its massed and rooted energy, one must have seen it in the original colossal size. Well placed in the natural surroundings of a park, it would present a spectacle of remarkable grandeur. This sculptor, like his uncle,
CHARIOT RACE