In connection with the color, scheme, the mural decorations invite
attention at many places. The outdoor character of the Exposition has
given unusual locations to some of these decorations. There are in all
some thirty. Mr. Guérin, as the director of color, had full charge of
their production, and all of them were painted by men he trusted
personally as regards their ability to execute and to finish on time.
That his choice fell largely on Eastern men was only too natural.
Few people have a proper idea of the magnitude of the work involved in
painting a huge decoration, and Mr. Guérin can hardly be blamed for
his choice of the men of experience who finally did the work, although
not all of them justified the confidence placed in them. The work of
painting such huge decorations is necessarily a big undertaking,
involving many preliminary studies and much physical and mechanical
labor in the end. Many painter-decorators employ large numbers of
trained men, apprentices and independent artists, to assist in the
execution of their commissions, and very frequently the temptation of
yielding the pleasure of execution to other hands is the cause of the
lowering of standards.
Probably, none of the canvases by Mr. Robert Reid, in the dome of the
Fine Arts Palace, can be said to do justice to the remarkable decorative
talent of Mr. Reid. He is so well and prominently known as a painter of
many successful decorations, in the East, that it is to be regretted
that he was not in a happier mood when he came to the task of painting
his eight panels of irregular shape for the Exposition.
The very scattered style of painting so effective in many of his easel
paintings, which show all the fine qualities of a modern impressionistic
school, is not of great help in pictures intended to be viewed from a
great distance. His decorations present very little opportunity for the
eye to rest upon them, and they are altogether too involved, in their
turbulent compositions. Their color is not unattractive, no matter how
cold, and of sufficient interest to atone for the lack of dignified
design. The subjects of all of these are by no means unattractive, and a
description of them reads far better than the pictures look.
The birth of European art is symbolized in the first panel. There are
five dominant figures, grouped about an altar on which burns the sacred
fire. An earthly messenger leans from his chariot to receive in his
right hand from the guardian of the flame the torch of inspiration,
while with his left hand he holds back his rearing steeds. In front of
these a winged attendant checks for an instant their flight. The central
figure, the guardian of the altar, still holds the torch, and below her
are three satellites, one clasping a cruse of oil, another pouring oil
upon the altar, while she holds in her hand a flaming brand, ready to
renew the flame should it falter, a third zealously watching the fire as
it burns. Opposite these a figure holds a crystal gazing-globe, in which
the future has been revealed to her, but her head is turned to watch the
flight of the earthly messenger.
The birth of Oriental art is symbolized in the second panel. The forces
of the earth, wresting inspiration from the powers of the air, are
pictured by a contest between a joyous figure in ancient Chinese armor,
mounted upon a golden dragon, combating an eagle. A female figure under
a huge umbrella represents Japan, while on either side are two other
Oriental figures, in gorgeous attire, symbolic of the long periods of
Oriental art.
The third panel represents the Ideals in Art. There are seven figures,
the Greek ideal of beauty dominating all in a classic nude. Below this
Religion is portrayed, in a Madonna and Child. Heroism is shown in
Jeanne d'Arc, mounted on a war-horse and flinging abroad her victorious
pennant. A young girl represents youth and material beauty, while at her
side a flaunting peacock stands for absolute nature, without ideal or
inspiration. A mystic figure in the background holds the cruse of oil.
Over all of them floats a winged figure holding a laurel wreath for the
victorious living, while a shadowy figure in the foreground holds a palm
for the dead.
The fourth panel represents the inspirations of all Art, five figures
symbolizing Music, Painting, Architecture, Poetry, and Sculpture. Flying
above these are two winged figures, one holding a torch flaming with the
sacred oil that has been brought from the altar, the other drawing back
the veil of darkness, revealing the tangible, visible expression of Art
to mortal eyes.
The four single panels symbolize the four golds of California; the
poppies, the citrus fruits, the metallic gold, and the golden wheat. The
idea of the four golds is particularly novel and will some day yield far
more interesting results, and I hope the subject will not be allowed to
lie idle. It is a very fine idea, too good not to be used permanently in
some dignified building in California.
The Court of the Four Seasons offers a decorative scheme of eight panels
above the doorways in the colonnades and two large panels in the
orchestral niche on the south. All of these ten paintings were done by
Milton Bancroft, one of the younger of the Eastern decorator-painters,
who took his task seriously enough, without rising in any of his
decorations above the conventional, with the exception of the "Autumn"
and the two larger panels in the half dome.
All of the seven decorations belonging to the set of eight smaller ones
are rather academic in their monotony of symmetrical compositions, not
sufficiently relieved by variety of detail. These decorations have to
excess what Reid's decorations are lacking in, namely, repose. Their
coloring is quiet and in thorough harmony with the architecture.
Bancroft's two more importantly placed decorations are, fortunately, his
best efforts. "Art Crowned by Time" and "Man Receiving Instruction in
the Laws of Nature" are very effective in their stateliness and
thoroughly decorative quality. They show the artist's allegiance to the
great decorations of the Renaissance in many quaint ways of filling out
the background spaces by puttos holding tablets, simple bits of
architecture, and conventionalized trees. His figure of "Art" is unique
among his figures in the decorative pattern used on the mantle which
falls gracefully from her shoulders. All the other Bancroft decorations
are devoid of this use of surface patterns, which are so helpful and
interesting in decorative arrangement.
It is only a few steps from the Court of the Four Seasons into the Court
of Palms. In entering through the orchestral niche one passes directly
underneath the lunette which holds the very decorative canvas by Arthur
Mathews, the acknowledged leader in the art of California. It must be
said that it does not seem right, in the light of what has been
contributed by men from elsewhere, that Mathews' superb talent should
have been employed only in one panel. His "Victorious Spirit," a rich
and noble composition, has certain enduring qualities which are not to
be found in a single one of any of the others. Simply taken as a
decoration, his picture is most effective by its richness of color, and
without going into the question of its meaning, it is thoroughly
satisfactory as a decoration.
Childe Hassam's lunette, said to represent "Fruit and Flowers," is
almost anaemic alongside Mathews' fullness of expression. Nobody ever
suspected Childe Hassam of being a decorator, no matter how admittedly
important a place he holds in the field of easel painting. The
composition of his decorations is frugal in every sense, largely owing
to the small scale of his figures. In the physical center of the
composition nothing of interest happens, and the composition breaks
almost in two. The coloring is insipid, and altogether not in keeping,
in its extreme coldness, with the happy warmth of the travertine
surrounding it.
Directly opposite, Charles Holloway presents himself in a very happy
painting called "The Pursuit of Pleasure." A study of this picture can
result in nothing but complete satisfaction. It is well and
interestingly composed, lively in arrangement, in good scale, and not
lacking in a certain feeling of repose, so essential in a good
decoration, and, for that matter, in any work of art.
In the great arch of the Tower of Jewels the most elaborate decorations
of Mr. William de Leftwich Dodge, of New York, command attention first
of all by their fine and lively colors. These decorations show a most
experienced artist, treating a wide variety of interrelated subjects
with great skill. These enormous canvases, sixteen by ninety-six feet in
size, are divided into a triptych, each picture continuing its central
scheme into two smaller side panels.
The great composition to the left is labeled "The Atlantic and the
Pacific," with a picture of "The Purchase" on the right and "The
Discovery" on the left. Opposite we have the "Gateway of all Nations,"
with "Labor Crowned" and "The Achievement" on either side.
Mr. Dodge has a very fine sense of decoration, which he used with much
skill. His command of human forms, together with the complete mastery of
all other detail, enables him to paint very easily decorations which
leave no doubt as to his long and varied experience in this field.
"The Atlantic and the Pacific" is very interesting in its formal
symmetry, splendidly relieved by the individual treatment of the eastern
and western nations which receive with expressions of joy the completion
of the great waterway which means so much for the furthering of their
mutual interests.
"The Gateway of all Nations" on the opposite side is less symmetrical,
but very well balanced in its arrangement of many elements, naturalistic
as well as allegorical. On the left, in the middle picture, one sees the
retiring forces of labor, proudly watching the great procession of
varied ships, moving in a joyous parade, led by Father Neptune and
attendants, towards the recently opened gate. Preceding Father Neptune
are allegorical figures, rhythmically swinging away into the sky. All of
Dodge's decorations are good for their sound decorative treatment,
always sustaining well the architectural surrounding frame, so
particularly important in this great and massive tower. Dodge's
backgrounds are devoid of any naturalistic suggestion, which so often
destroys otherwise effective decorations.
The function of a decoration must always be to preserve the feeling of
the wall, as opposed to the work of the easel painter, who wants to
assist in forgetting that there is a canvas and to suggest that we are
looking into the far distance. A good decoration should, as it were,
allow the driving of a nail into any part of its surface - it should not
make a hole in the wall.
In the two triumphal arches of the Nations of the East and the West,
Frank Vincent Du Mond and Edward Simmons, respectively, contributed to
the scheme of decorations. In the western arch, DuMond painted a
continuous frieze of the march of civilization towards the great West.
His work is most conscientiously done, very intellectual, and most
effective in color, as well as in arrangement. You see in his continued
scheme the entire story of western development.
It begins with the youth departing from his old father, who only
reluctantly - feeling the infirmities of old age - stays behind.
Preceding the young man, the historical prairie-schooner, accompanied by
pioneers, continues the procession. This is developed further in
historical groups of soldiers, priests, and men representing the
intellectual rise of the great West. There is William Keith, with the
palette, Bishop Taylor, Bret Harte, Captain Anza, and other well known
western figures, taking their place in the procession of tent wagons and
allegorical figures, all striving towards that very fine group
representing California in all the gorgeousness and splendor of the
Golden State. This composition of "California," taken by itself, is one
of the very best passages in the whole decoration, and could very
effectively be used all by itself.
On the east, Edward Simmons presents two very charming compositions,
full of great refinement and delicacy. The refined coloring of his
decorations, so very delightful by themselves, is not in accord with the
architecture, and in the overawing surroundings of the great arch they
do not look as well as they might in a more intimate scheme of smaller
scale. The one to the left, as seen from the Court of the Universe,
tells of the dreams which led to the exploring and exploiting of the
great West. Carefully designed figures of great refinement. represent
"Hope" and "Illusory Hope," scattering tempting bubbles, heading the
procession of stately women. They are followed by "Adventure," "Art,"
"Imagination," "Truth," and "Religion" and a group suggesting family
life.
On the opposite side the westward trend of War, Commerce, Conquest,
Imagination, and Religion from all corners of the earth is typified.
Mr. Simmons in all his work employs a very unusual technique of broken
columns, without losing a certain desirable simplicity of surface. His
allegorical theme on the north side will linger in the minds of the
people as one of the best of the Exposition decorations, particularly
for its graceful drawing.
It seems hardly possible to do adequate justice to the very unusual
genius of Frank Brangwyn, who charms thousands of Exposition visitors
with his eight panels, representing the Four Elements, in the Court of
Abundance. Brangwyn's pictures have one great advantage over all of the
others, which lies in their accessible location, well controlled by
daylight. All the other decorations seem to me to be situated too high
above the ground. Brangwyn's have no such disadvantage to contend with.
How much more important, for instance, Mathews' lunette would look,
placed somewhere nearer the level of the eye.
Brangwyn's canvases are a veritable riot of color, full of animation and
life. They are almost dynamic. There seems to be something going on in
all of them, all the time, and one hardly knows whether it is the
composition, the color, or the subject, or all three, which gives them
this very pronounced feeling of animation. He knows how to approach the
extreme possibilities in pictorial decoration without losing sight of
certain elements of repose. Seen from a distance, their effect at first
is somewhat startling, owing to their new note, not reminiscent in the
very least of the work of any other living - or past - painter. On
closer examination they disclose a great wealth of form, very skillfully
treated. There is every indication that it gave the artist the utmost
pleasure to paint them. This spirit of personal enjoyment, which all of
them convey in a remarkably sustained fashion, is contagious, and
disarms all criticism. They are primarily great paintings in a technical
sense. Added to that quality is a passionate love of pure color,
juxtaposed with fine feeling for complementary colors of great
intensity.
Brangwyn's glass window technique, of separation into many primary and
secondary colors by many broad contrasts of neutral browns and grays, is
very effective in bringing a feeling of harmony in all of his paintings,
no matter how intense their individual color notes may be.
His pictures are not intellectual in the least, and all of the people in
his pictures are animals, more or less, and merely interested in having
a square meal and being permitted to enjoy life in general, to the
fullest extent.
The quality of enjoyment that runs through all of Brangwyn's work is
extremely useful in the general atmosphere of Mullgardt's court. In the
northwest corner, Nature is represented, in all the fecundity of the
earth. Only in our wildest dreams, and only in the advertisements of
California farm lands and orchards, do such grapes, pumpkins, pears, and
apples exist.
The picture to the left shows the grape-treaders, in the old-fashioned
and unhygienic practice of crushing grapes by dancing on them in
enormous vats. Others are seen gathering and delivering more grapes. As
in the other picture, showing the harvest of fruit, more people are
shown. Brangwyn never hesitates to use great numbers of people, which
seem to give him no trouble whatever in their modeling and
characterization.
Following on to the right, "Fire," represented as the primitive fire and
as industrial fire, in two pictures, continues the scheme. That group of
squatting woodmen carefully nursing a little fire is almost comical,
with their extended cheeks, and one can almost feel the effort of their
lungs in the strained anatomy of their backs. There does not seem to be
anything too difficult for Brangwyn. "Industrial Fire" is interesting
from the decorative note of many pieces of pottery in the foreground.
They seem to have come from the kiln which muscular men are attending.
"Water" is unusually graceful and delicate in its vertical arrangement
of trees and the curve of the fountain stream, coming from the side of a
hill. Women, children, and men have congregated, taking their turn in
filling all sorts of vessels, some carried on their heads, some in their
arms. Brangwyn's clever treatment of zoölogical and botanical detail is
well shown in flowers in the foreground, such as foxglove and freesia,
and the graceful forms of a pair of pinkish flamingoes. In the other
panel of the same subject, a group of men on the shore are hauling in
their nets.
The last of the four, "Air," represents this element in two totally
different ways; the one on the left gives the more tender, gentle
movement of this element, in the suggestion of the scent of the bowmen
screened by trees, moving toward their prospective prey, while the other
very bold composition is of a windmill turned away from the destructive
power of an impending windstorm. In the foreground people are rushed
along by gusts of wind, while children, unaware of the impending storm,
are flying kites.
The masterful and varied treatment of these eight canvases show Brangwyn
as the great painter he is known to be. We should rejoice to have such
excellent examples of his brush permanently with us.
While not exactly belonging to the number of official decorations,
Edward Trumbull's wall paintings in the unique Pennsylvania building are
of great interest. Thoroughly dignified in their composition, they are
most descriptive in their subject-matter. The "Pennsylvania Industries"
are on the west side and "Penn's Treaty with the Indians" on the other.
It is evident that Trumbull is a disciple of Brangwyn, though a personal
note is not lacking in his work.
The tea-room of the California building harbors some mural decorations
by Miss Florence Lundborg which the male part of the population can
enjoy only by special invitation. I regret that they are not placed
somewhere where the casual Exposition stroller can see them, because
they are deserving of more attention than they are apt to receive. Miss
Lundborg's artistic contributions have for many years been along the
lines of decorations and in this big, well-composed figural scheme she
discloses again a very fine, sympathetic understanding of the problems
of a wall decoration. The color scheme is very refreshing and gives life
to a large hall which has been endowed with unusual distinction by Miss
Lundborg's art. A number of decorative floral medallions complete a
scheme which is characterized throughout by dignity and sympathy.
The Illumination
Conclusion
While a daytime investigation of the Exposition no doubt has its
rewards, the full meaning of the Exposition reveals itself at night.
Never before has an Exposition been illuminated in the unique fashion of
the Panama-Pacific International Exposition.
Former exposition lighting consisted of a lavish display of lighting
fixtures, and of unavoidable millions of glaring bulbs, the number of
which nobody was permitted to forget. The offensive glare of the direct
light had to be eliminated to preserve that feeling of tonality, of
restfulness, so impressive in daytime. In other words, the sources of
all lights at night have been concealed, or so concentrated that they
could be far removed, so as not directly to offend the eye. The effect
is very much like the flood of light of a full-moon summer night.
In speaking of the rich mellowness of the lighting effect, one feels
again compelled to speak of the travertine stucco as the artistic
foundation of not only the architecture, sculpture, painting, and
landscape garden effects, but also of the illuminating effects designed
by Mr. W. D'A. Ryan, and executed by Mr. Guy L. Bayley. Without the
mellow walls and rich orange sculptural details, no such picture of
tonal beauty could have been produced.
It is difficult to single out, among the many suggestive pictures, the
most alluring one, but I may safely say that the first half hour after
the close of day, as enjoyed around the lagoon, with the Fine Arts
Building in the background, reflected in the waters, will linger forever
in the minds of all who are privileged to see it.
Such blues I have seen only in pictures by Maxfield Parrish. Combined
with the rich gold of the colonnade, they are almost supernatural. The
whole effect, as reflected in the placid surface of the lagoon,
occasionally broken here and there by a slowly moving waterfowl, or the
protruding mouth of a carp, is inspiring, and must awaken an aesthetic
response in the soul of the most ordinary mortal. Very quickly, however,
does this colorful picture change, and the very intense blue of the
early evening sky rapidly changes into a colorless black.
The Palace of Fine Arts, above all others, offers many wonderful bits of
enchantment at night. It seems to have been thought out not only for its
daytime effect but for the night as well.
Of the inner courts, those with larger and smaller bodies of water are
most effective at night. The Court of the Four Seasons, with its placid,
shrub-encircled pool, is doubly interesting at night. The four
wall-fountains add much to the outdoor feeling that this court
possesses, by reason of the suggestive murmur of the waters, descending
in gentle splashes from bowl to bowl.
The most striking court, in its mysteriousness, is Mullgardt's Court of
Abundance, particularly so on a foggy night. Large volumes of vapor are
lazily rising from huge bowls and torches, below, and in the tower,
suggesting the early days of the cosmic All, cooling off from the
turbulent period of its creation. The fogs sweeping from the bay add
more mystery, and with the gorgeous perfume of the hyacinth carpet in
the garden spaces, the effect is almost narcotic. The whole court, under
these conditions, seems heavy with the atmosphere of abundance, of
physical well-being, of slumbering natural powers.
At the same time, it is truly religious in its effect of turning the
mind away from the ordinary world into the realm of the mystic and the
supernatural. I never realized what our San Francisco fogs could produce
in artistic effects until I visited Mullgardt's court on a foggy night.
The effect of the fog is absolutely ennobling.
So many things like these, possibly not originally thought of, have
added, together with the illumination, rare charm to the Exposition.
Great masses of pigeons, attracted by the light thrown upon the two
great groups of the Nations of the West and of the East, give an
unusually inspiring touch to the Exposition at night. The spectacle of
these graceful birds encircling rhythmically the great sculptural piles,
apparently enjoying the bath of light, will never be forgotten. These
pigeons seem to have decided to live in the Exposition; they are there
always, and apparently glad to play their part in the Exposition
ensemble.
The lesson of the Exposition will be far reaching in its many
demonstrations of the commercial value of artistic assets. The whole
Exposition is really a city-planning exposition of the first order. Any
city-builder, by the respectful use of the great fundamental principles
of balance, harmony, and unity, cannot help but do on a large scale what
the Exposition presents in a more condensed fashion. I admit that we
have made tremendous strides in the remodeling of many of our large
cities, particularly in the East, but we are still constantly starting
new cities in the old planless way.
Our only practical and lasting effort in San Francisco along the lines
of civic progress has been made in the civic center, where a
far-reaching plan has been adopted and partly put into existence, and in
some of our very charming newer restricted residence districts in the
western end of the city, like St. Francis Wood, or in Northbrae and
Claremont, in Berkeley, and elsewhere around the bay.
There is no doubt that we must better capitalize our own artistic
assets, which we often allow to lie idle before we ever utilize them
properly. The water front, Telegraph hill, the ocean shore, Sutro
Heights, and Lincoln Park are all waiting to be developed in such a way
as the Exposition suggests. The talk of cost is idle twaddle. If the
Exposition, as an artistic investment, pays - and I see no reason
whatever why it should not pay for itself - then we cannot do anything
better than to invest our money wisely in other artistic improvements of
a permanent character.
San Francisco is known all the world over for its unique location,
rivaled only by that of Marseilles, and we have now the responsibility
to use this natural asset, for which many envy us. The Exposition will
start an avalanche of improvements along artistic lines which will be
given increasing momentum by the development of long periods of
prosperity.
The most urgent need, no, doubt, is the establishment of a municipal art
gallery in the civic center, the only ideal place for it, where the
workingman from the Mission and the merchant from west of Van Ness
avenue will find it equally convenient of access. If a smaller number of
citizens could raise the money for a municipal opera house, there should
be no trouble in getting funds for a building devoted to a far more
extensive public benefit, like an art gallery. People generally will
want to know why it is that certain things can be given to them for one
year, so successfully, and why it should not be possible to have them
with us permanently. The inspiring lesson of beauty, expressed so simply
and intelligently, will sink deep into the minds of the great masses, to
be reborn in an endless stream of aesthetic expression in the spiritual
and physical improvement of the people.
We, out here in the West, have been measuring the tide of human progress
in biological terms. We have almost forgotten the days of our great
calamity, and still speak of them in that typical expression of
apprehension of the "earthquake babies." Let us think now of the future
and its bright prospects, inaugurated so auspiciously for the benefit of
our Exposition generation.