On reaching the Avenue of Progress we found ourselves at the gayest
corner of the Exposition, with two fine vistas of the two avenues. To
our right stood the massive Palace of Machinery, one of the largest
buildings in the world, so successfully treated by the architect that it
did not give the faintest suggestion of being cumbersome or monotonous.
"It's the Baths of Caracalla in Rome," said the architect, "adapted by a
master. Those three gables above the main entrance are taken directly
from the baths. See how simple the ornamentation is and yet how
satisfying. The building as a whole is a perfect example of old Roman
architecture, feeling its way toward the big architectural principles
that are in vogue today, among others the economical principle involved
in the counteracting of thrusts. If the Roman Emperor who was nicknamed
Caracalla on account of the hooded military tunic that he made
fashionable in his day hadn't built those baths we should probably not
have the glorious Pennsylvania station in New York, that some of the
architectural authorities consider the most important building of its
kind built in this country. Although the work here is all concrete,
Clarence Ward, the architect, says that with care, it could last
hundreds of years."
Now we were struck by those vigorous-looking figures, by Haig Patigian,
that stood on top of the Sienna columns all evidently designed to
express the power of machinery. At the entrance the reliefs of the
columns were in the same spirit and, as one might have surmised, by the
same sculptor working out the meaning of the buildings in designs that
kept the contour of the columns, strong and well-modeled.
"There's distinctive character in this building," said the architect.
"It actually conveys the sense of tremendous energy, and by the simplest
means. And inside, Ward has done something new and interesting."
When we entered we found the supports of the roof left bare. Instead of
being unsightly, they had a kind of beauty and impressiveness. "Observe
the magnificence of the spaces here on the floor and up to the ceiling.
Some one asked Ward if all this height were necessary. He said it
wasn't; but he wanted it for pictorial effect, to carry out the feeling
of massiveness and splendor."
In the great figures that stood on the columns in front of the Palace of
Machinery the architect found a theme for a discourse on the human
figure as the chief inspiration of art. "It is possible that we shall
change our minds on that subject," he remarked. "Already the world is
showing a tendency to get away from the worship of the body. Ever since
the Christian era, of course, the physical has been deprecated. We may
come to see that the body is useful as it develops and serves the
spiritual, that is, as it subordinates itself. The marvel is that the
pagan tradition has persisted so long in spite of the Christian
influence. This Exposition shows how strong it remains."
"But what would you have in place of the human figure as the inspiration
of art?" I asked.
"Oh, there are plenty of things that might take its place. Flower themes
are just as beautiful in decoration as the shapes of men and women. I
can conceive of the time when it will be considered uninteresting and
commonplace to have human bodies used as a means of aesthetic display.
The self-glorification in it alone becomes wearying. We are gradually
learning that the best we can do in life is to forget about ourselves
and our old bodies. There are even those who go so far as to look
forward to the time when we shall escape from our bodies altogether. It
would be interesting, by the way, to get the point of view of a very
spiritual Christian Scientist on the display here. I suppose that it
would see good in the tendency to reach finer and nobler conceptions of
art according to our present understanding."
Then the architect proceeded to discuss the artistic superiority of the
Japanese. Though they used the human figure in their art, they did not
play it up, after the habit of the Western world. They did not make it
seem to be of supreme importance. They conventionalized and subordinated
it to outline and color. The use of the nude they never cultivated.
Their attitude toward the body was characterized by discretion and
modesty, qualities that they showed in their dress. You would never see
a Japanese woman, for example, wearing a dress that conspicuously
brought out the lines of her figure.
"On the other hand," the architect went on, "there's no doubt we've
become absurdly prudish in this country. We're afflicted with shame of
the body which, in itself, is unhealthy. If art can help us to get back
to a more normal attitude it will do a big service. All the more reason
then why it should keep within reasonable bounds."