When we entered the arch we looked up at the magnificent ceiling used by
McKim, Mead & White, in panels, with a pictorial design beautifully
colored by Guerin. "The blue up there blends into the deeper blue of the
Dodge murals just beneath. Those murals are in exactly the right tone.
They give strength to the arch. But they are weakened by being in the
midst of so much heavy architecture. Their subjects, however, are in
harmony with the meaning of the tower. Guerin was right when he told the
mural decorators that a good subject was an asset. By studying these
murals you can get a glimpse of all the history associated with
California and with the Panama Canal. Dodge has made drama out of
Balboa's discovery of Panama and out of the union of the two oceans, a
theme worthy of a great poet. And Dodge is one of the few men
represented in the art on the grounds who have made pictorial use of
machinery. There's the discovery by Balboa, the purchase by the United
States, the presentation of the problem of uniting the two oceans, very
imaginative and pictorial, the completion of the Canal, and the crowning
of labor, with the symbolic representation of the resulting feats of
commerce suggested by the want of the winged Mercury. Dodge is dramatic
without being too individual. His murals don't call the attention away
from their surroundings to themselves. They are a part of the
architecture, as murals always should be."
On either side we found the columned niches designed by McKim, Mead and
White, each ornamented with a fountain. The back wall made a splendid
effect as it reached up toward the tower.
To the right we turned to view Mrs. Edith Woodman Burroughs' "Fountain
of Youth," lovely in the girlish beauty of the central figure, and in
the simplicity and the sincerity of the design as a whole. In some ways
the figure reminded us of the celebrated painting by Ingres in the
Louvre, "The Source," the nude girl bearing a jug on her shoulder,
sending out a stream of water. There was no suggestion of imitation,
however.
"The symbolism in the design," said the architect, "does not thrust
itself on you, and yet it is plain enough. That woman and man pushing up
flowers at the feet of the girl make a beautiful conception. The whole
fountain has an ingenuousness that is in key with the subject. Across
the way," he went on, turning to view the Fountain of El Dorado, by Mrs.
Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, "there's a piece of work much more
sophisticated and dramatic, fine in its conception and strong in
handling. No one would say offhand that it was the work of a woman; and
yet it shows none of the overstrain that sometimes characterizes a woman
artist when she wishes her work to seem masculine."
In approaching the "El Dorado" we noted the skill shown in the details
of the conception. "This fountain might have been called 'The Land of
Gold,' in plain English, or 'The Struggle for Happiness,' or by any
other name that suggested competition for what people valued as the
prizes of life. When Mrs. Whitney was asked to explain whether those
trees in the background represented the tree of life, she said she
didn't have any such idea in her mind. What she probably wanted to do
was to present an imaginative scene that each observer could interpret
for himself. These two Egyptian-looking guardians at the doors, with
the figures kneeling by them, suggest plainly enough the futility that
goes with so much of our struggling in the world. So often people
reach the edge of their goal without really getting what they want."
V