the layman and the most difficult symbolist may alike enjoy. A narrative is told, and Art, in the mode of recount, is elevated.
BEAU TORSE
Rodin’s busts are strikingly ressemblant—not always flattering to the subject, but remarkable revelations of the character of the individuals themselves. His busts of Victor Hugo and Henri Rochefort and Jean Paul Laurens are especially fine.
“In making a portrait, for example,” Rodin says, “it requires several séances for me to get into the spirit of my model. I am seeking always the distinguishing trait that makes this man or woman an individual different from the rest of his kind. When I discover this trait marquant I dwell upon it, I insist on it—I caricature it, if you like—until my bust has likeness; then I know that I know my model.”
The sculptor has been at work for fifteen years on the famous “Porte de l’Enfer” (“Door of Hades”), ordered by the Museum of Decorative Art in Paris. Of this stupendous undertaking, as yet incomplete, only the most inadequate idea can be given. The portal measures six mètres in height; the panels and borders are filled with countless figures in bas and high relief. Above the doors is a nude male figure in a sitting posture, elbows on the knees, head sunk on the hands. This is Dante, dreamer, meditator, before whose eyes passes the vision of the condemned. The groups, couples, and single figures represent everything that a fertile talent can conceive of dread and grief; there are visible
