MISCELLANY.
ART.
Domestic.—The fortieth annual exhibition of the National Academy of Design was opened to the public on the evening of April 27th, under circumstances which may well mark an era in the history of that institution. After drifting from place to place through forty long years, now deficient in funds, and now in danger of losing public sympathy or support, sometimes unable to carry out its specific purposes, and almost always cramped for space, or otherwise perplexed in the details of its public exhibitions, the Academy, like Noah's ark, long buffetted by waves and driven by tempests, finds a resting place, not on Mount Ararat, but at the corner of Fourth avenue and Twenty-third street. And as the "world's gray fathers," after their troubled voyage, regarded with infinite satisfaction terra firma and the blue sky, so doubtless the older of the academicians, those who have accompanied the institution in all its wanderings, are doubtless both pleased and amazed to find themselves arrived at a goodly haven with secure anchorage. To drop the figure, the Academy is now permanently established in an attractive and convenient building, well situated in a central locality, and bids fair to enter upon a career of usefulness far beyond the results of its previous experience.
The new building has been for so long a time completed externally, that its merits have been canvassed with every shade of opinion, from enthusiastic commendation to quite as decided disapprobation. The majority of critics, having their reputation at stake, are afraid to hazard an opinion, and prudently remain neutral, until some authoritative decision shall be made. As an architectural effort it may be called an experiment, on which account it presents perhaps as many claims to critical notice as the works of art which adorn its walls. The style, singularly enough, is assigned to no special era or country, but is described to be of "that revived Gothic, now the dominant style in England, which combines those features of the different schools of architecture of the Middle Ages which are most appropriate to our nineteenth-century buildings," which means probably that the building is of an eclectic Gothic pattern. All modern styles since the renaissance may be said to be eclectic, whether founded on antique or mediaeval models, and the building in question differs from other Gothic edifices, of more familiar aspect to us, chiefly in form, external decoration, and the arrangement of its component parts. In the American mind Gothic architecture is associated chiefly with ecclesiastical structures and is popularly supposed to be subject to no fixed laws, beyond an adherence to the irregular and picturesque. Given a cruciform ground-plan, a pointed spire, steep roof, narrow arched windows, buttresses, and pinnacles ad libitum, and you have as good a Gothic building as the public taste can appreciate. Here, however, is a nearly square building, covering an area of eighty by about a hundred feet, which is neither a church nor a college, and is without steep roof, spire, buttresses, or pinnacles. The public evidently do not fathom the mystery at present, and those whose praise of the new Academy borders on the extravagant, are perhaps as much astray in their adherence to the omne ignotum pro magnifico principle as those wiseacres who tell you knowingly that the architect has tried to palm off upon us a palpable imitation of the doge's palace in Venice. If the latter class of critics will refresh their memory a little, or consult any good print of Venetian architecture, they will find about as much resemblance between the two buildings as exists between the old Custom House in Wall street and the Parthenon. The plain fact is that we are so unused to Gothic architecture, applied to secular purposes, and to any other forms of it than the ecclesiastical, as to be without sufficient data to form a correct idea of the present edifice. And yet, such is the conceit of criticism, that thousands of persons pronounce their judgment upon it with as much confidence as they would upon a trivial matter perfectly [{421}] familiar to them. These may yet find that hasty opinions are dangerous.
The Academy, as has been hinted above, is of rectangular shape, having three stories, of which the first is devoted to the life school and the school of design, the second to the library, reception rooms, council room, and similar apartments, and the third to the exhibition galleries, five in number, with which at present we have specially to deal. The main entrance to the building is on Twenty-third street. Passing up a double flight of marble steps and through a magnificent Gothic portal into a vestibule, the visitor next enters the great hall, in the centre of which commences a broad stairway, consisting at first of a double flight of steps, and ultimately of a single flight, leading to the level of the exhibition floor. Running all around the open space on this story caused by the stairway is a corridor, two sides of which, parallel with the stairway, comprise a double arcade, supported on columns of variegated and polished marble, the capitals of which, of white marble, are hereafter to be sculptured in delicate leaf-and-flower work from nature. Opening from this corridor are the exhibition rooms, which also communicate with each other, and of which the largest is thirty by seventy-six feet, and the smallest, used as a gallery of sculpture, is twenty-one feet square. These are all lighted by sky-lights, and are intended for the purposes of the annual exhibitions. In the corridor surrounding the stairway are to be hung the works of art belonging to the Academy, although at present its walls are covered with pictures contributed to this year's exhibition. The several rooms described are well-lighted, and though smaller perhaps than the large outlay upon the building might have led the public to expect, seem excellently adapted for their purposes. The largest of them is a model exhibition gallery in respect to proportions and light, and all are tastefully finished and pannelled with walnut from floor to ceiling. Throughout the building the same costly and durable style prevails, the wood-work being of oak and walnut, and the vestibules floored with mosaic of tiles.
So much for the interior, against which no serious complaint has been uttered. Externally the walls of the basement story are of gray marble relieved by bands of graywacke, those of the story above of white marble with similar bands, while the uppermost story is of white marble with checker-work pattern of oblong gray blocks, laid stair-fashion. The whole is surmounted by a rich arcaded cornice of white marble. The double flight of white marble steps on Twenty-third street, leading to the main entrance, is, perhaps, the most marked feature of the building, at once graceful, rich, and substantial, and may fairly challenge comparison with any similar structure of like pattern in the country. Under the platform is a triple arcade, inclosing a drinking-fountain, and profusely decorated with sculpture, and from the upper landing springs the great arched Gothic portal, large enough almost for the entrance to a cathedral. On either side of this are two columns of red Vermont marble with white marble capitals and bases, on which rests a broad archivolt enriched with sculpture and varied by voussoirs, alternately white and gray. The tympanum above the door is to be filled with an elaborate mosaic of colored tile work. The basement windows, on Fourth avenue, are double, with segmental arches, each pair of which is supported in the middle on a clustered column with rich carved capital and base. All the other windows in the building have pointed arches, and the archivolts of those in the first story are decorated like that of the doorway. In the place of windows on the gallery floor are circular openings for ventilation, filled with elaborate tracery. The building was designed by Mr. P. B. Wight, and erected at a cost of over two hundred thousand dollars.
Without attempting to inquire whether this or that portion of the building is correctly designed, or even whether the whole is entirely satisfactory, or the reverse, we may say that in the opinion of most persons the external flight of steps and the entrance are too large and elaborate for the building, reminding one of those remarkable edifices for banking or other public purposes occasionally to be seen in this city, which are all portico, as if the main structure had walked away, or had not been considered of sufficient importance to be added to the entrance. It is partly owing to this defect, and partly to the insufficient area on which it is built, [{422}] that the Academy seems wanting in height and depth, and therefore devoid of just proportions—has in fact an unmistakable dumpy look. Many an architect before Mr. Wight has been prevented by want of space from effectively developing ideas intrinsically good, and perhaps the severest criticism that can be pronounced against him in the present instance is that ambition has led him to attempt what his better judgment might have taught him was impossible. "Cut your coat according to your cloth," is a maxim of which the applicability is not yet exhausted. Again, the obtrusive ugliness of the skylights, rising clear above the sculptured cornices, can hardly fail to offend the eye, and suggests the idea of an encumbered or even an overloaded roof. If to these defects be added the curious optical delusion by which the gray marble checker-work on the upper story appears uneven and awry, and which denotes a radical error in design, we believe we have mentioned the chief features of the building which even those who profess to admire it unite in condemning. The objection that the building is of unusual form and appearance, and out of keeping with the styles of architecture in vogue with us, is not worthy of serious consideration.
Having said so much in depreciation of the Academy, we must also say that it conveys on the whole an elegant, artistic, and even cheerful impression to the mind, relieving, with its beautiful contrasts of white and gray and slate, the sombre blocks of red or brown buildings which surround it, and actually lightening up the rather prosaic quarter in which it stands. Too much praise cannot be accorded to the architect for the combinations of color which he has infused into his design; and, granting that in this respect he has committed some errors of detail, they are trifling in comparison with the good effects which will probably result from the future employment of this means of embellishment. What if the idea, imperfectly embodied in this experimental building, should in the end compass the overthrow of that taste which leads us to build gloomy piles of brown houses, overlaid with tawdry ornamentation, and pronounce them beautiful? When such an innovation is attempted and finds even a moderate degree of favor, there is hope that the era of architectural coldness and poverty may yet pass away. The carving profusely distributed on both the exterior and interior of the building, and of which, we are told, "the flowers and leaves of our woods have furnished the models," is for the most part exquisite in design and execution. Here, at least, is naturalistic art, against which the sticklers for idealism can offer no objection, so beautiful and appropriate are the designs, and so suggestive of the necessity of going back to nature for inspiration. If the new Academy possessed no other merit than this, it would nevertheless subserve a useful purpose in the development of taste.
Having devoted so much space to the building, we can only allude generally to the contents of its galleries, of which we propose to speak more at length in a future notice. The exhibition, though inferior to those of some years in the number, exceeds them all in the quality of its pictures, and presents on the whole a creditable and encouraging view of the progress of American art. If the capacity of the galleries is not so great as was expected, there is on the other hand less danger that the eye will be offended by a long array of unsightly works, and we may probably bid good-bye to the monstrosities of composition and color which the Academy was formerly compelled to receive, in order to eke out its annual exhibitions. Such has been the increase in the number of our resident artists of late years, that but a limited number of pictures, and those consequently their best efforts, can henceforth be contributed by each. This fact alone will ensure a constantly increasing improvement to succeeding exhibitions. As usual, landscape predominates, with every variety of treatment and motive, from Academic generalization and pure naturalism down to Pre-Raphaelitism and hopeful though somewhat imperfect attempts at ideal sentiment. Portraiture and genre are also well represented, with a fair proportion of animal, flower, and still-life pieces, and of the numerous family of miscellaneous subjects which defy classification. History is even less affected than usual, the dramatic episodes of the great rebellion failing to suggest subjects to our painters other than those of an indirect or merely probable character. So far as the present exhibition may be supposed to afford an [{423}] indication, "high art," and particularly that branch of it which illustrates sacred history, is defunct among us—a circumstance which those who have witnessed previous efforts by contemporary American painters in that department will not perhaps regret. The pictures are generally hung with judgment, and in a spirit of fairness which ought to satisfy, though it will not probably in every instance, the demands of exhibitors. And it may be added that they appear to good effect, and are daily admired, using the word in its derived as well as its more common sense, by throngs of visitors.
Church, the landscape painter, has recently gone to the West Indies, with the intention of passing the summer in the mountain region of Jamaica, where he will doubtless find abundant materials for study. He leaves behind a large unfinished work of great promise, "The Rainbow in the Tropics," and some completed ones of less dimensions.
Augero, an Italian artist, has recently completed for a church in Boston a picture of St. Andrew bearing the cross, of which a contemporary says: "Mr. Augero has departed from the traditional types that have descended to him, and has treated the picture in a manner entirely his own. The head of the saint is finely handled, and, without being too much spiritualized, has sufficient of the ideal to give it value both as a church picture and a work of art. In general arrangement and color the work is especially to be admired." This artist is said to have received quite a number of commissions for ecclesiastical decoration.