The sculptural decorations of the Exposition are so much a part of the
architectural scheme that their consideration must no longer be delayed.
The employment of sculpture has been most judicious and has never lost
sight of certain architectural requirements, so frequently overlooked.
While there are a great many examples of sculptural decorations at the
Exposition, there does not seem to be that over-abundance of
ornamentation so often confused by the public with artistic effect.
The best compliment that can be paid to the Exposition sculpture is that
it is not evident at first and that one becomes aware of it only in the
course of studying the architecture. I do not think that, with the
exception of the Column of Progress and the groups of the Nations of the
East and of the West, the Exposition has produced, through its very
unusual and novel opportunities, any great work, or presented any new
talent heretofore not recognized; but it will most certainly stand a
critical examination and comparison with other Exposition sculpture and
not suffer thereby. As a matter of fact, a number of the sculptors of
our Exposition were commissioned to do similar work at St. Louis.
In one respect our Exposition must immediately claim originality - that
is, in the elimination of the glaring white, with its many ugly and
distracting reflected lights, insisted upon for years, in practically
all the great expositions of the past. This absence of white is surely a
very novel and very helpful feature, from an artistic point of view. The
Travertine staff material used, the highly successful work of Mr. Paul
Denneville, with its innumerable fine accidental effects, so reminiscent
of the tone and the weather-beaten qualities of really old surfaces, is
an asset that the sculptors among all the collaborating artists
gratefully acknowledge.
The artistic value of the Travertine lies in its beautiful expression of
architecture as well as of sculpture. A plain wall becomes a matter of
interest and comfort. An ornamental feature or sculpture obtains a
wonderful charm and delicacy in this material which is particularly
unique in sculpture. The natural Travertine is a sedimentary deposit
dating back, it is claimed, to the glacial ages. That imitated here
forms the bed of the River Tiber near Rome and was extensively used for
ages in the early Roman and Greek era as a building stone for their
temples and works of art. While a poor material in cold climates,
because of its striation, it was always sought in Italy for its
wonderful texture and tone. It was used in the Coliseum and in many
other buildings erected during the Roman period.
It is evident that there has been a very happy and close co-operation
between the architect and the sculptor - a desirable condition that,
unfortunately, does not always exist. Architects will sometimes not
allow the sculptor to give full expression to his ideas, will put
unwarranted restrictions upon him, and the result is very one-sided.
I had the pleasure of seeing much of the sculpture grow from the sketch
to the finished full-scale work, and the kindliness and the vigorous
personality of Mr. Stirling Calder added much charm and interest to this
experience. Mr. Calder has been the director of the department of
sculpture and the inspiration of his own work penetrates that of all his
fellow-artists. Among them are many specialists, such as Frederick Roth,
for instance, as a modeler of animals, who shows in the very fine figure
of "The Alaskan" in the Nations of the West that he is not afraid nor
unable to model human figures. Practically all of the animals in the
grounds show the hand of Roth.
Like Roth, Leo Lentelli did a good share of the task. His work is
characterized by much animation and spirit, but well balanced wherever
necessary, by a feeling of wise restraint. I remember with much horror
some of the sculptural atrocities of former expositions that seemed to
jump off pedestals they were intended to inhabit for a much longer
period than they were apparently willing. Repose and restraint, as a
rule, are lacking in much of our older American sculpture, as some of
our Market-street statuary testifies. It seems that our unsettled
conditions find an echo in our art. It is much to be hoped that a
certain craving for temporary excitement will be replaced by a wholesome
appreciation of those more enduring qualities of repose and balance.
Calder's work, no matter how animated, no matter how full of action, is
always reposeful. His "Fountain of Energy" gives a good idea of what I
mean. It is the first piece of detached sculpture that greets the
Exposition visitor. Its position at the main gate, in the South Gardens,
in front of the Tower of Jewels, is the most prominent place the
Exposition offers. It is worthy of its maker's talent. Its main quality
is a very fine, stimulating expression of joyousness that puts the
visitor at once in a festive mood. The Fountain of Energy is a symbol of
the vigor and daring of our mighty nation, which carried to a successful
ending a gigantic task abandoned by another great republic. The whole
composition is enjoyable for its many fine pieces of detail. Beginning
at the base, one observes the huge bulks of fanciful sea-beasts,
carrying on their backs figures representing the four principal oceans
of the world: the North and South Arctic, the Atlantic, and the Pacific.
Some are carrying shells and their attitudes express in unique fashion a
spirit of life and energy which makes the whole fountain look dynamic,
in contrast with the static Tower of Jewels. Everything else in this
fountain has the dynamic quality, from its other inhabitants of the
lower bowls, those very jolly sea-nymphs, mermaids, or whatever one may
want to call them. They are even more fantastically, shaped than the
larger figures. In their bizarre motives some of the marine mounts look
like a cross between a submarine and a rockcod.
Rising from the very center of the fountain basin, a huge sphere,
supported by a writhing mass of aquatic beasts, continues the scheme
upwards, culminating in the youth on horseback as the dominating figure
of the whole scheme. The sphere is charmingly decorated with reclining
figures of the two hemispheres and with a great number of minor
interesting motives of marine origin. The youth on horseback is not
exactly in harmony with the fountain; one feels that the aquatic feeling
running through the rest of the fountain is not equally continued in
this exceedingly well-modeled horse and youth and those two
smaller-scaled figures on his shoulders - I feel that the very clever
hand of a most talented artist has not been well supported by a logical
idea. Their decorative effect is very marked, taken mainly as a
silhouette from a distance. They are no doubt effective in carrying
upwards a vertical movement which is to some extent interfered with by
the outstretched arms of the youth. Mr. Calder has given us so very many
excellent things, alone and in collaboration with others throughout the
Exposition, that we must allow him this little bizarre note as an
eccentricity of an otherwise well-balanced genius.
As long as we are in the South Gardens, we might take the time to
investigate the two fountains on either side of the center, towards the
Horticultural Palace on the left and Festival Hall on the right. There
we find a very lithe mermaid, used alike on either side, from a model by
Arthur Putnam. Many of us who for years looked forward to the great
opportunity of the Exposition, which would give Arthur Putnam a worthy
field for his great genius, will be disappointed to know that the
mermaid is his only contribution, and scarcely representative of his
original way in dealing with animal forms. The untimely breakdown, some
two years ago, of his robust nature prevented his giving himself more
typically, for his real spirit is merely suggested in this graceful
mermaid.
Sherry Fry's figural compositions on the west of Festival Hall might
well be worthy of a little more attention than their somewhat remote
location brings them. The two reclining figures on the smaller domes are
reposeful and ornate. A stroll through the flower carpets of the South
Gardens, amidst the many balustrade lighting Hermae, discloses a wealth
of good architectural sculpture, which in its travertine execution is
doubly appealing.
There are four equestrian statues in different places on the north side
of the Avenue of Palms. Two are in front of the Tower of Jewels, the
"Cortez" by Charles Niehaus, and "Pizarro," by Charles Cary Rumsey. The
third is in front of the Court of Flowers, and the last at the entrance
to the Court of Palms. The two latter, Solon Borglum's "Pioneer," and
James Earl Fraser's "The End of the Trail," belong as much together as
the two relatively conventional Spanish conquerors guarding the entrance
to the Court of the Universe.
The symbolism of the "Pioneer" and "The End of the Trail" is, first of
all, a very fine expression of the destinies of two great races so
important in our historical development. The erect, energetic, powerful
man, head high, with a challenge in his face, looking out into early
morning, is very typical of the white man and the victorious march of
his civilization. His horse steps lightly, prancingly, and there is
admirable expression of physical vigor and hopeful expectation. The gun
and axe on his arm are suggestive of his preparedness for any task the
day and the future may bring.
Contrast this picture of life with the overwhelming expression of
physical fatigue, almost exhaustion, that Fraser gives to his Indian in
"The End of the Trail." It is embodied in rider and horse. Man and
beast seem both to have reached the end of their resources and both are
ready to give up the task they are not equal to meet.
The psychology of this great group is particularly fine. It is in things
like these that our American sculpture will yet find its highest
expression, rather than in the flamboyant type of technically skillful
work so abundantly represented everywhere. "The End of the Trail" could
have been placed more effectively in the midst of, or against, groups of
shrubbery in a more natural surrounding, where so close a physical
inspection as one is invited to in the present location would not be
possible.
The Tower of Jewels, however, with its lofty arch and suggestion of
hidden things behind it encourages the spirit of investigation. On
entering this great arch, one is suddenly attracted by the pleasing
sound of two fountains, sheltered in the secluded abutting walls of the
great tower. Minor arches, piercing the base of the tower west and east,
open up a view toward these sheltered niches, harboring on the right the
Fountain of Youth, by Mrs. Edith Woodman Burroughs, and the Fountain of
Eldorado at the left, by Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney. These two fountains
are totally different in character, and they could well afford to be so,
since they are not visible as a whole at the same time, although
physically not far apart.
Mrs. Burrough's fountain is very naïve in feeling, very charming in the
graceful modeling of the little girl. The decorative scheme of this
poetic unit is very simple and well-sustained throughout its
architectural parts.
Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney's fountain is of the intellectual, dramatic
kind. The treatment of this almost theatrical subject is well balanced.
While it does not possess any too much repose, it is very effective. In
general there are three parts to this fountain; the central doorway of
Eldorado, just ajar, disclosing faintly this land of happiness; while on
either side are two long panels showing great masses of humanity in all
manner of positions and attitudes, all striving toward the common goal.
Some are shown almost at the end of their journey, overtaken with
exhaustion; others more vigorous are lending a willing arm to the
support of their less successful brothers and sisters about to fall by
the wayside. The whole composition of those two friezes shows Mrs.
Whitney as a very skillful and imaginative artist. It is a gratifying
spectacle to see a woman such as Mrs. Whitney, so much heralded,
possibly against her own inclinations, in the society columns of New
York, find the time to devote herself to so serious and professional a
piece of work as the Fountain of Eldorado.
Passing through the Tower of Jewels into the Court of the Universe,
one's attention will be attracted to a number of pieces of detached
statuary. The most important among them is "The Four Elements," by
Robert Aitken. We all remember Aitken as the very promising young man
who left us before the fire to make a career in the East, after having
exhausted all local possibilities, the Bohemian Club included. His
figures of the Four Elements are typical of his temperament and he
acknowledges in them his indebtedness to Michael Angelo without being in
the least imitative. These four figures are allegorically full of
meaning, and taken simply as sculpture, they are excellently modeled.
His "Fire," showing a Greek warrior defending himself from the fiery
breath of a vicious reptile, is novel in its motive, while "Water"
discloses Father Neptune bellowing out into the briny air, accompanied
by dolphins in rhythmic motions. "Air," on the south, discloses Aitken
as the skillful modeler of less muscular forms of a winged female
figure, which in itself, without the birds, is suggestive of its
meaning. It was very daring to introduce the story of "Icarus" in this
group, by the small-scaled figure of this first mythological aviator on
the outside of the wings of the larger figure. It helps to add a note of
interest to an otherwise not so interesting part of the group.
The Fountains of the Rising and the Setting Sun are most impressive by
their architectonic quality, and Weinman's clear style of modeling is
seen at its best in the Tritons in the fountain bowl. The figure of the
Setting Sun is one of the finest figures of the entire Exposition. The
suggestion of the termination of day, indicated in the folding of the
wings and in the suggestion of physical fatigue, is very well conveyed.
A fine relaxation runs through the whole figure.
The Rising Sun, on the other side, has all the buoyancy of an energetic
youth ready for his daily task. With widespread wings, looking squarely
out into the world, he seems ready to soar into the firmament. The
contrast is admirable in these two figures, and Weinman deserves all the
popular applause bestowed upon his work.
Paul Manship has contributed two groups at the head of the east and west
steps leading to the sunken gardens, each group consisting of two
figures, one representing Festivity, the other, Art and Music. These
groups are used alike on either side. Manship deserves to be better
represented in the Exposition than by these two groups alone. His
position as one of the very successful of our younger men would have
warranted a more extensive employment of his very strong talent.
It is rather a flight from those Manship figures to the colossal groups
of the Nations of the East and of the West, but one is irresistibly
drawn to these wonderfully effective compositions. Their location makes
them the most prominent groups in the Exposition ensemble.
The harmonious co-operation of Calder, Roth, and Lentelli has resulted
in the creation of a modern substitute for the old Roman quadriga, which
so generally crowns triumphal arches. Both groups are so skillfully
composed as to have a similar silhouette against the blue sky, but
individually considered they are full, of a great variety of detail. It
was an accomplishment to balance the huge bulk of an elephant by a
prairie schooner on the opposite side of the court. Considering the
almost painful simplicity of the costumes and general detail of the
western nations as contrasted with the elaborately decorative
accessories, trappings, and tinsel of the Orient, it was no small task
to produce a feeling of balance between these two foreign motives. But
what it lacked in that regard was made up by allegorical figures, like
those on top of the prairie schooner, used not so much to express an
idea as to fill out the space occupied by the howdah on the other side.
There is a great deal of fine modeling in the individual figures on
horse and camel back and on foot.
In either one of the two groups much has been lost in the great height
of the arches. Figures like "The Alaskan," "The Trapper," and "The
Indian," for instance, are particularly fine and they would be very
effective by themselves. "The Mother of Tomorrow" in the Nations of the
West is a beautifully simple piece of sculpture.
The Nations of the East, like the West, in its entirety, is the
conception of A. Stirling Calder, who modeled the pedestrian figures.
With Mr. Calder, Messrs. Frederick G. R. Roth and Leo Lentelli
collaborated. The huge elephant in the center of the group was modeled
by Mr. Roth, also the camels. The mounted horsemen were modeled by Leo
Lentelli. From left to right the figures are - an Arab warrior, a Negro
servitor bearing baskets of fruit, a camel and rider (the Egyptian), a
falconer, an elephant with a howdah containing a figure embodying the
spirit of the East, attended by Oriental mystics representing India, a
Buddhist Lama bearing his emblem of authority, a camel and rider
(Mahometan), a Negro servitor, and a Mongolian warrior. The size of the
group, crowning a triumphal arch one hundred and sixty feet in height,
may be inferred from the fact that the figure of the Negro servitor is
thirteen feet six inches in height.
On the arch beneath this group are inscribed these lines by Kalidasa:
"The moon sinks yonder in the west, while in the east the glorious sun
behind the herald dawn appears. Thus rise and set in constant change
those shining orbs and regulate the very life of this our world."
The Nations of the West, crowning the arch of the Setting Sun, is also
the conception of A. Stirling Calder, who modeled the imaginative
figures of "the Mother of Tomorrow," "Enterprise," and "Hopes of the
Future."' Messrs. Leo Lentelli and Frederick G. R. Roth collaborated in
their happiest style, the former producing the four horsemen and one
pedestrian, the Squaw, and the latter the oxen, the wagon, and the three
pedestrians. From left to right the figures are, the French Trapper, the
Alaskan, the Latin-American, the German, the Hopes of the Future (a
white boy and a Negro, riding on a wagon), Enterprise, the Mother of
Tomorrow, the Italian, the Anglo-American, the Squaw, the American
Indian. The group is is conceived in the same large monumental style as
the Nations of the East. The types of those colonizing nations that at
one time or place or another have left their stamp on our country have
been selected to form the composition.
The following lines by Walt Whitman are inscribed on the arch beneath
the group of the Nations of the West: "Facing west from California's
shores, inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I a child,
very old, over waves towards the house of maternity, the land of
migrations, look afar: look off the shores of my western sea, the circle
almost circled."
It is popularly conceded that these two groups are magnificently daring
conceptions, richly worked out. They are probably the largest groups of
the kind ever made, the dimensions of the base being fifty-two by
thirty-eight feet, and the height forty-two feet.
Looking seaward from the Court of the Universe the Column of Progress
commands attention, crowned by the "Adventurous Bowman" and decorated at
the base with a frieze symbolizing achievement, or progress. The very
fine symbolism in this column deserves to be studied. The position of
the column itself is most artistic in its relation to the surroundings.
It is too bad, however, to see the view from the main court toward the
column spoiled by a music pavilion of dubious architectural merit. The
effect of the column as seen from any point is inspiring in its
monumental grandeur. The group on top, the Bowman, represents man's
supreme effort in life. He is supported on the left by his fellow-man,
adding strength and steadiness to his aim, while on the right the
crouching figure of a woman watches anxiously the sureness of his aim.
She holds ready in her hand the laurel wreath which she confidently
feels will be his just reward.
The great Column of Progress is the first column in the world, so far as
I know, whose design was inspired by a purely imaginative motive, and
the first sculpture column at any exposition. It must be considered the
most splendid expression of sculpture and architectural art in the
Exposition. Mr. Calder may justly feel proud of this great idea and Mr.
Hermon MacNeil has added new laurels to his many accomplishments in the
free modeling of the very daring group on top.
The column itself is decorated with the spiral ascending motive of the
Ship of Life, while at the base Isadore Konti expresses the striving for
achievement in four well modeled panels of huge scale, representing
human life in its progressive stages, showing men and women in attitudes
of hope and despair, of strength and weakness, in the never ending task
of trying to realize human destiny.
The Court of the Four Seasons harbors four groups by Piccirilli,
representing the seasons in the conventional way, dividing the year into
four distinct parts - spring, summer, autumn, and winter. These four
groups of Piccirilli are not equally successful. By far the most
effective is the one representing winter. The severe rigidity of the
lovely central standing figure expresses well that feeling of suspended
activity which we associate with the conventional conceptions of the
season of dormant life. The kneeling side figures are in full harmony of
expression with the central figure. They support very well the general
scheme.
The next best, to my mind, seems "Spring," on account of the very fine
psychological quality of the standing figure in giving expression in a
very graceful fashion to that invigorating and reviving quality of our
loveliest season. The two side figures seem to be gradually awakening to
the full development of their powers.
Next to "Spring," "Fall," by the fullness of the decorative scheme,
suggests Peace and Plenty in the preparation for the Harvest Festival
and in the touch of family life of the mother and child on the right.
Mr. Piccirilli's naturalistic modeling does not express itself so well
in "Summer." There is so little strictly architectural feeling in that
group. I think that Albert Jaegers, with his two single figures on top
of the two columns flanking the Orchestral Niche, actually represents
our own two seasons much more successfully than does Piccirilli.
Jaegers' "Rain and Sunshine" should be used to name the court properly -
"The Court of the Two Seasons," as we know them in California - the dry
season, the season of harvest; and the wet season, the one of
recuperation. I regret that here an opportunity was lost to add
distinction to the many different features of a great undertaking.
Jaegers has contributed also the figure of "Nature" on top of the music
niche and the capital bulls on the pylons toward the north of the court.
These terra cotta bulls are surely worthy of the adjective derived from
them. Their relative size is very good, and to see them in the richness
of their color against the upper regions of a dark blue sky is very
effective.
Directly north of the Court of the Four Seasons stands Miss Beatrice
Evelyn Longman's Fountain of Ceres, originally planned for the center of
the court, but so very effective all by itself between the dignified
colonnades of the avenue. The fountain is most impressive by its fine
architectural feeling, so uncommon in the work of many women sculptors.
The general feeling of it is refinement, combined with great strength.
It is fully deserving of monopolizing a fine setting of dignified
architecture, so richly emphasized by some of the finest old yew trees
in the grounds.
In the Court of Abundance a riot of interesting architectural sculptural
details invites the attention of the visitor. Beginning with the lower
animal forms, such as crabs and crayfish, etc., the entire evolution of
Nature has been symbolized, reaching its climax in the tower, where the
scheme is continued in several groups in Chester Beach's best style. The
lowest of these groups shows the Primitive Age, followed above by the
Middle Ages and Modernity. The great charm of this finest of all the
towers in the Exposition is its wonderful rhythmic feeling. The graceful
flow of line from the base toward the top is never interrupted, in spite
of the many sculptural adornments used on all sides. In front of the
tower are two very ornate illuminating shafts, showing Leo Lentelli's
diabolical cleverness in making ornament out of human figures. Leo
Lentelli's style is particularly well adapted to Mullgardt's Court of
Abundance. Its care-free, subtle quality, full of animation, presenting
new motives at every turn, is most helpful in the general spirit of
festivity which characterizes this most interesting of all the courts.
Aitken's Fountain of Life in the center of the court is totally
different. Full of intellectual suggestion, it is almost bewildering in
the storytelling quality of its many details. Aitken's fountain, which
is situated in the center of a basin a hundred and fifty feet long by
sixty-five feet wide, rises directly from the water. The main structure
consists of a series of four groups of heroic-sized figures, carved in
pierced relief, each flanked by colossal bronze Hermes, their arms
reaching around the structure and held together by animal forms of
reptilian or fishy origin. All these forms and figures surround a globe
of enormous size, typifying the Earth, over the surface of which streams
of water are thrown from the reptilian chain motive.
Leading up to the main structure is a group of ten crouching figures,
symbolizing Destiny in the shape of two enormous arms and hands, giving
life with one and taking it with the other. Here, on the left side, are
arranged figures suggesting the Dawn of Life, while on the right are men
and women depicting the fullness and the end of existence.
In the first, Prenatal Sleep, is the crouched form of a woman, while
successively come the Awakening, the Ecstatic Joy of Being - or it may
be the Realization of Living; the Kiss of Life, with the human pair
offering up their children, representative of the beginnings of
fecundity; a female, strong of limb and superb of physique, enfolds in
her arms two infants, while her mate, of no less powerful build and rude
force, kneeling beside her, gives her an embrace typical of the
overpowering parental instinct. Here is the suggestion of the elemental
feelings, the beginnings of things.
Between the first group and the central one comes a gap, a space typical
of that unknown time in history when conjecture alone permits
speculation, and the story is taken up again with the first of the
central groups, wherein stands a figure of Vanity, glass in hand,
symbolizing the compelling motive of so much in human endeavor. To her
left, in enormous contrast, are primitive man and woman, treated with
great realism, these two carrying their burdens of life, in the form of
their progeny, into the unknown future, their expression that of rude
but questioning courage, the man splendid in his virility, superb in the
attitude of his awkward strength, ready to meet whatever be the call of
earth. His mate meanwhile suggests the overwhelming and eternal
instincts of motherhood.
An archaic Hermes, dividing these figures from the next group, allows
for a space of time to elapse, and we come to their children, now grown
to manhood and womanhood, in their rude strength finding themselves,
with the result of Natural Selection. This is a group of five
personages, the center figure a man of splendid youth and vigor,
suggesting the high state both of physical and intellectual perfection,
unconsciously attracting the female, two of whom regard him with favor,
while two males on either side, deserted for this finer type, give vent
to deep regret, despair, and anger. One attempts by brute force to hold
the woman; the other reluctantly gives up his choice, in the obvious
futility of his unequal intellectual endowment to comprehend.
From this to the Survival of the Fittest we have a militant group, in
which physical strength begins to play its part, and perhaps discloses
the first awakening of the war spirit, the woman in this case being the
exciting cause. The powerful chieftains struggle for supremacy of their
time and tribe, their women making futile efforts to separate them. Here
the sense of conquest receives its first impression and is finely
indicated, with admirable action, while there is the symbolism of the
conflict of the nations that has ever gone on, for one cause or another,
and that struggle for the female which has ever been the actuating
motive in war, conquest, and, for that matter, peace.
The next group - always separated by the solemn and dignified Hermae -
discloses "The Lesson of Life," wherein the elders, with the experience
of the years, offer to hot-headed youth and to the lovelorn the benefit
of their own trials and struggles. A beautiful woman is the central
figure. She draws to her side splendid manhood, the Warrior, willing to
fight for his love and his faith. To his left his mother offers him her
affectionate advice, while to the right a father restrains a wayward
offspring who, rejected by the female, is in a state of frenzied
jealousy. Finally two figures represent Lust, a man struggling to caress
the unwilling woman who shrinks from his embraces, and we are led down
from this pair out of the composition to the crouching group at the
approach of the structure, referred to at the beginning of this
description, who here are departing from the central composition.
First is a figure of Greed looking back on the Earth. He holds in his
hands a mass suggestive of his futile and unsavory worldly possessions,
the unworthy bauble toward which his efforts have been directed. Back of
him we have the group of Faith, wherein kneels a Patriarch, who offers
consolation to a woman to whom he presents the hope of immortality,
holding in his hands a scarab, ancient symbol of renewed life. Next come
two recumbent figures, a man and a woman, the first, Sorrow, the other
typifying Final Slumber. These are about to be drawn into oblivion by
the relentless hand of Destiny.
In the center of a formal parapet at the end of the basin of water,
sixty feet from the fountain, is a colossal figure symbolic of the
setting sun, Helios, the great orb having thrown off the nebulous mass
that subsequently resolved itself into the earth.
In the immediate neighborhood of this Court of Abundance is found Sherry
Fry's figure of Neptune's Daughter, in the open court north of the
tower. The figure is not in keeping with the scheme of Mullgardt's
court, extending in this direction. The effect of this figure, no matter
how graceful it may be, is unquestionably too physical, in a certain
measure owing to the opportunity for close inspection.
On the south of the Court of Abundance, in the Court of Flowers, Edgar
Walter's fountain has been placed. "Beauty and the Beast" have been
combined in contrasting fashion, with much effect, by associating the
youthful charms of a graceful maid with the angular ugliness of a
dragon, who seems to feel honored by having been selected as the
resting-place of a creature from outside his realm. He seems to be
almost hypnotized into a state of abject lifelessness. The effect of
this juxtaposition of the round forms of the human body and the almost
geometrical angularity of the fabulous beast is very interesting and
adds a new note to the many other ideas presented. The architectural
scheme of the fountain is made doubly interesting by a rich use of
animal forms of humorous character.
The immediate vicinity of the Laguna remains still to be investigated in
regard to sculptural adornments. The dozen or so niches in the west
front of the main building present a repetition of two individual groups
by Charles Harley, of New York, of decidedly archaeological character
"The Triumph of the Field" and "Abundance." They are most serious pieces
of work, possibly too serious, and they are in great danger of remaining
caviar to the masses on account of the complexity of their symbolism and
the intellectual character of their motives. Their setting is most
attractive, amongst groups of trees and shrubs.
Maybeck's Palace of Fine Arts is so overwhelming in its architectural
effects that one seldom feels like doing justice to the fine sculptural
detail everywhere in this building. Ralph Stackpole's interesting Shrine
of Inspiration is the most charming bit of sculpture, more detached in
its effect than most of the other motives. Bruno Zimm's eight fine
friezes, showing the development and influences of the arts in a very
severe, almost archaic style of modeling, add a fine note to the dome,
and Ulric Ellerhusen's equally architectonic friezes are in good style
and are in thorough harmony with the classic quality of this great
palace.
It is, of course, not possible to name all of the many pieces of
architectural sculpture used at the Exposition. The general effect one
receives is that it represents the best that is possible in Exposition
sculpture today. It gives evidence of the increasing development of the
qualities of design, as contrasted with the so much looser work of
former expositions. Seldom before have sculptors anywhere, since
sculpture and architecture first worked hand in hand, so played their
most important roles together in the ensemble setting that constitutes
our Exposition visually. On arch or column, in niches, in fountains, and
in free-standing groups, they sing of many themes, and always in
harmony, but with no loss of character or individuality. There is no
doubt of it, that, for an Exposition, sculpture is the most important of
all the arts, because it is the most human. Without it, architecture
would be cold and without appeal. I foresee a great future for sculpture
in America, where our temperament demands it. The educational value of
sculpture at an exposition is incalculable. It is a school for the
sculptors, too, as well as for the public.