triple vestibule, backed by the same effect that appears at the palace
ends, but with the entablature and its supporting columns repeated
across the outer arches. (p. 111.) With the exception of the spandrels
on the transverse arches, the sculptural decoration here is the same as
that described for the end entrances, though more often repeated. The
spandrels represent the application of power to machines. All this
decoration is the work of Haig Patigian, of San Francisco.
Before the main entrance stands the only example, in the Exposition
sculpture, of the work of the dean of American sculptors, Daniel Chester
French. This is his noteworthy group, the Genius of Creation. (p. 147.)
Other statues by French will be found among the exhibits of the Fine
Arts Palace. The Genius of Creation was placed here at the last moment.
It had been intended for the Court of the Universe, while Douglas
Tilden's group of "Modern Civilization" was to have stood before the
Palace of Machinery. When this was not completed, the Exposition wisely
decided that the great court already had enough statuary, and ordered
French's group erected in its place.
According to French himself, this group might well have been called "The
Angel of Generation." The winged figure, neither male nor female, but
angelic, is veiled, suggesting the creative impulse as a blind command
from unknown sources. The arms are raised in a gesture of creative
command. It has wings, said French, because. both art and the conception
demanded these spiritual symbols. The man and woman against the rock
whereon the angel sits are emblems of the highest types created. The man
looks upward and outward with one hand clenched, ready to grapple with
life. The woman reaches out for sympathy and support; her fingers find
this in the hand of the man at the back of the rock. Man and woman are
encircled by the snake, the earliest symbol of eternity and
reproduction, a figure appearing, curiously enough, in every religion,
and with much the same significance.
Without ignoring the majesty of the exterior, glowing with color and
adorned with statuary, it may be said that the real nobility of this
great structure appears in the splendid timber work of the interior.
Here, where every bone and rib of the huge hall stands bare as the
builders left it, is a note of true grandeur. The long rows of great
timbered columns, the lofty arches that spring from them, the almost
endless vista of truss and girder, tell of vastness that cannot be
expressed by the finished architecture outside. The finest character of
the palace is within. From the outside it is a great and
well-proportioned hall. Within it becomes a vast cathedral, dedicated to
the mighty spirit of Dynamics.
XII.
The Palace of Fine Arts and its Exhibit, With the Awards
A memorable demonstration of the value of landscape to architecture--
Simplicity the foundation of Maybeck's achievement--The Colonnade and
Rotunda--Altar, Friezes and Murals--Equestrian statue of Lafayette--
Night views--The Palace should be made permanent in Golden Gate Park--
The Fine Arts Exhibit--Its contemporaneous character and great general
merit--American art well shown--The foreign collections--Sweden's
characteristically national art--Exhibits of France, Italy, Holland,
Argentina, and other countries--Japan and China exhibit ancient as well
as modern art--The Annex--Work of the Futurists--Notable sculptures
in the Colonnade--Grand Prizes, Medals of Honor and Gold Medals
Awarded.
If everything else in the beautiful architecture of the Exposition were
forgotten, the memory of the Palace of Fine Arts would remain. It should
be a source of pride to every Californian that this incomparable
building is the work of a Californian, and a source of deep satisfaction
to the architect himself that it so completely points the lesson which
he intended it to convey. For the Palace of Fine Arts is a sermon in
itself. In it old Roman models have been used to elaborate a California
text. Its structure and setting are the demonstration of a theorem,--
the finished word of the preachment of a lifetime. The Exposition gave
the preacher his opportunity. Bernard Maybeck, the Berkeley architect,
had long been telling California that architecture here, to be
beautiful, needed only to be an effective background for landscape. His
theory is that as trees and plants grow so easily and so quickly here,
Californians are wasting their finest source of beauty if they do not
combine landscape with building.
When Maybeck was called upon to design a palace of fine arts at the
Exposition, one fact enabled him to exemplify his theory in the finest
way. The old Harbor View bog was found to have a bottom impervious
enough to hold water, and the trees of the demolished resort were still
standing. When the mud was scooped out, a lake was left. That gave not
only growing trees, in addition to the resources of the Exposition's
forestry, but also a real sheet of water, for the landscape. (See p.
112.)
Maybeck surprised me by saying that there is nothing specially
remarkable about the Palace itself. "What is it the people like?" he
asked, and himself replied, "it is the water and the trees." When I
reminded him of the beauty of the colonnade seen from points in the
enclosed passageway, where no water is in view, he answered: "The public
was bribed to like that. Leaving off the roof between the colonnade and
the gallery was a direct bribe. A few other simple devices give the
effect the people like. One of these is the absence of windows in the
walls, a device well known to the old Italians. Others are the water,
the trees, and the flower-covered pergolas on the roof."
Maybeck's modesty is genuine, but he deserves more credit than he gives
himself. I quote him because his point is worth emphasizing. The highest
beauty can be attained by simple means. If all our architects could see
that, we should have less straining for effect, less over doneness, and
more harmony and significance in our buildings. The people can and do
appreciate this kind of beauty. It was surely inspiration that made it
possible for Maybeck to produce this masterpiece.
Sweeping in a great arc around the western shore of the lagoon, the
Palace, in the architect's view, is merely a background for the water,
the trees and the plants on the terraced walls and pergolas. Certainly
it is a beautiful setting to a beautiful scene. So perfectly are the
Palace and its foreground fitted to each other that the structure looks
as though it might have stood there for twenty centuries, a
well-preserved Roman villa, while generations of trees grew, and
decayed, and were reproduced around its base.
The great detached colonnade, with its central rotunda, is the climax of
the entire structure. It is backed up and given solidity by the walls of
the gallery behind it, 1,100 feet long. These walls, unbroken save for
the entrances, are relieved and beautified by shrubbery set on a terrace
halfway between the ground and the eaves. (p. 113.) At the extremities
of the double colonnade, and spaced regularly along it, are groups of
four columns, each crowned with a great box designed for flowers and
vines. Unfortunately, the architect's plan to place growing plants in
these receptacles was vetoed because of the cost. The weeping women at
the corners, by Ulric Ellerhusen, expressive of the melancholy felt on
leaving a great art collection, were intended to be only half seen
through drooping vines. On the water side of the rotunda, a novel effect
of inclusion is obtained by semi-circular walls of growing
mesembryanthemum.
Around the entablature of the noble octagonal rotunda are repeated Bruno
Louis Zimm's three panels, representing "The Struggle for the
Beautiful." (p. 114.) In one, Art, as a beautiful woman, stands in the
center, while on either side the idealists struggle to hold back the
materialists, here conceived as centaurs, who would trample upon Art. In
another, Bellerophon is about to mount Pegasus. Orpheus walks ahead with
his lyre, followed by a lion, representing the brutish beasts over whom
music hath power. Back in the procession come Genius, holding aloft the
lamp, and another figure bearing in one hand the pine cones of
immortality, in the other a carved statue which she holds forward as a
lesson in art to the youth before her. In the third panel appears
Apollo, god of all the arts, in the midst of a procession of his
devotees bearing garlands. Between the panels are repeated alternately
male and female figures, symbolizing those who battle for the arts.
On an altar before the rotunda, overlooking the lagoon, kneels Robert
Stackpole's figure of Venus, representing the Beautiful, to whom all art
is servant. The panel in front of the altar is by Bruno Louis Zimm, and
pictures Genius, the source of Inspiration. Unfortunately, this fine
altar has been made inaccessible; it can be seen only from across the
lagoon. (p. 137.) The friezes decorating the huge circular flower
receptacles set around the base of the rotunda and at intervals in the
colonnade are by Ellerhusen. Eight times repeated on the lofty columns
within the rotunda is "The Priestess of Culture," a conventional but
pleasing sculpture by Herbert Adams.
Above, in the dome, Robert Reid's eight murals, splendid in color, are
too far away to be seen well as pictures. Two separate series are
alternated, one symbolizing the Progress of Art, the other depicting the
Four Golds of California. The panel in the east, nearest the altar, is
"The Birth of European Art." The sacred fire burns on an altar, beside
which stands the guardian holding out the torch of inspiration to an
earthly messenger who leans from his chariot to receive it. On the right
is the Orange panel, representing one of the California golds.
"Inspiration in All Art" comes next. The veil of darkness, drawn back,
reveals the arts: Music, Painting, Poetry, and Sculpture. A winged
figure bears the torch of inspiration. The second of the California
golds, the Wheat panel, follows, and then "The Birth of Oriental Art."
The allegory here is the ancient Ming legend of the forces of earth
trying to wrest inspiration from the powers of air. A Chinese warrior
mounted on a dragon struggles with an eagle.
Gold, the yellow metal, is the subject of the next panel, followed by
"Ideals in Art." In this appear concrete symbols of the chief motives of
art, the classic nude of the Greeks, the Madonna and Child of Religion,
Joan of Arc for Heroism, Youth and Material Beauty represented by a
young woman, and Absolute Nature by the peacock. A mystic figure in the
background holds the cruse wherewith to feed the sacred flame. A winged
figure bears laurels for the living, while the shadowy one in the center
holds the palm for the dead. Last of all comes the Poppy panel,
representing the fourth gold of California.
"The entire scheme--the conception and birth of Art, its commitment to
the earth, its progress and acceptance by the human intellect,--is
expressed in the four major panels. They are lighted from below by a
brilliant flood of golden light, the sunshine of California, and reach
up into the intense blue of the California skies." This, as well as much
of the interpretation of the eight pictures, is drawn from Reid's own
account.
Within the rotunda has been installed Paul Wayland Bartlett's spirited
equestrian statue of Lafayette. This is a replica of the original work,
which was presented to the French Government by the school children of
the United States, and stands in the gardens of the Louvre. Other
notable statues here are Karl Bitter's Thomas Jefferson, John J. Boyle's
Commodore Barry, Herbert Adams's Bryant, and Robert T. McKenzie's
charming figure of "The Young Franklin." Outside the rotunda, facing the
main entrance to the gallery, is "The Pioneer Mother," Charles Grafly,
sculptor. Over the entrance is Leo Lentelli's "Aspiration."
Beautiful as is the Palace of Fine Arts by day, it is even more lovely
at night. (p. 137.) Either by moonlight or under the gentle flood of
illumination that rests softly upon it when the heavens are dark, it is
wonderful. There is so much of perfection in the building, and it is so
well placed, that it needs no special conditions to be at its best. Nor
is any particular viewpoint necessary. Stand where you will around this
structure, or on the opposite margin of the lagoon, and each position
gives you a different grouping of columns and dome and wall, a different
setting of trees and water. The form of the Palace is responsible for
this. Roughly speaking, a rectangular structure presents but four views.
But the great arc of the Fine Arts, with its detached colonnade
following the same curve on either side of the rotunda, is not so
restricted. Every new point of view discloses new beauty. The breadth of
the lagoon before it guarantees a proper perspective. It is impossible
not to see it aright.
An excellent test of the quality of all such temporary structures is the
satisfaction with which one thinks of them as permanent buildings. No
other of the palaces would wear so well in its beauty if it were set up
for the joy of future generations. It would be a glorious thing for San
Francisco if the Fine Arts Palace could be made permanent in Golden Gate
Park. To duplicate it in lasting materials would cost much, but it would
be worth while. San Francisco owes it to itself and its love for art to
see that this greatest of Western works of art does not pass away. As it
stands on the Exposition grounds, it is more enduring than any of the
other palaces. To induce the loan of its priceless contents, the
building had to be fireproof. But the construction is not permanent. The
splendid colonnade, a thing of exquisite and manifold beauty, is only
plaster, and can last but a season or two. Even were the building solid
enough to endure, its location is impossible after the Exposition
closes.
It should be duplicated in permanent form. No doubt a proper site, with
a setting of water and trees, can best be found in Golden Gate Park. The
steel frame and roof of the main gallery could easily be transferred
there and set up again. While it would cost too much to duplicate in
real marble the pillars of the colonnade and dome, yet these can be
reproduced in artificial stone as successfully as they have here been
imitated in plaster. In the Pennsylvania Railroad station in New York
travertine has been counterfeited so well that no one can tell where the
real ends and the imitation begins.
Every other considerable city in the civilized world has its art
gallery. San Francisco has already the full-sized model of surely the
most beautiful one in the world. Made permanent in the Park, this Palace
of Art would not only honor San Francisco, but would be "a joy forever"
to all America.
The Fine Arts Exhibit[1].--The Palace of Fine Arts contains what the
International Jury declares the best and most important collection of
modern art that has yet been assembled in America. The war in Europe had
a two-fold effect on this exhibition. While it prevented some countries,
like Russia and Germany, from sending their paintings and sculptures, it
led others, such as France and Italy, to send more than they otherwise
would have sent. The number the Exposition might have was limited only
by its funds available for insurance. So many were the works of art sent
over on the Vega and the Jason that an Annex was required to house them.
It must be remembered that this art exhibit, like the other exhibits of
the Exposition, is contemporaneous. It represents, with exceptions, the
work of the last decade. Most of the exceptions are in the rooms of the
Historical Section, the Abbey, Sargent, Whistler, Keith, and other loan
collections, and the great Chinese exhibit of ancient paintings on silk.
In general, the paintings and sculptures made famous by time are not in
the Fine Arts Palace. Its rooms are mainly filled with the latest work
of artists of the day, exhibited under the Exposition's rule which
limits competition in all departments to current production. This
explains, for instance, why the French Government has placed its
Meissoniers and Detailles, with Rodin's bronzes, in the French Pavilion.
A Michelangelo, works of Benvenuto Cellini, and many old paintings and
statues are in the beautiful Italian Pavilion. Other paintings of value
are in the Belgian section of the French Pavilion, and in the Danish
Pavilion.
This limitation of the Fine Arts exhibit has made room for a great
representation of the men of today. The Palace contains a multitude of
splendid pictures. While of course, as in all such collections, there is
some inferior work, the most pertinent criticism is that there are too
many really notable things, and the scope of the collection is too
broad, to be seen with due appreciation in a limited time. There is so
liberal a showing of different schools, styles and lands, that one is
liable at first to be bewildered. But the exhibit is most popular. The
great number of visitors constantly thronging the galleries is
significant of the value the people put upon art. Excellent as the
collection is as a school for artists, it was made for popular enjoyment
and education. The best result to be looked for is its stimulation and
culture of the public taste. The people are already in love with it, and
what they love they make their own.
The exhibits are arranged in fifteen sections, consisting of national,
sectional, or personal, collections of paintings, besides many important
displays of miniatures, etchings, prints, drawings, and tapestries. The
art of the sculptor is abundantly illustrated in grouped statuary,
single pieces, panels in low or high relief, and wood carvings. Passing
the heroic emblems of history or allegory in marble, bronze or plaster,
nothing is more beautiful or appealing than the hundreds of small
bronzes shown. In brief, the Fine Arts exhibit embraces all the
classifications of modern art, save the "arts and crafts" exhibits,
which are scattered among the several exhibit palaces.
First in importance to a citizen of this country is the art of the
United States. Possibly it may also be of first importance to foreign
visitors. For the phrase "American art" no longer raises a doubt. It is
at last recognized that America has something of its own to offer the
world,--a style developed within the last, two decades. The prime
movement of the times presenting boldness, brilliance and a laxity of
detail in portrayal, the art of America, as shown in this exhibition,
embodies these characteristics without emphasizing them. Keeping in mind
the fact that the Palace contains little American art earlier than 1905,
American artists are showing marked individualities, even in their
acceptance of popular precepts. The virile men of the day love
luminosity; it dominates all else, and marks their canvases with light;
they restrain the too bold stroke of the radical Impressionist, but
outline with firmness, so that details are more easily imagined by the
observer, even when an expected delineation is absent. Even the older
men, though still under the influence of earlier tradition, show a
distinctiveness of style that sets them well apart from their English,
French or German contemporaries.
The International Section, in Room 108 and in the Annex, is peculiarly
interesting in that it makes easy a comparison of the characteristic
fingerprints of each country represented. There is ample opportunity
here for a discriminating and profitable study. Unfortunately, because
of the war, the gallery contains no special rooms for the art of England
and Germany. Both countries are represented only by loan collections. Of
German art there are forty well chosen paintings.
France, Italy, Holland, Sweden, Portugal, Japan, China and several of
the South American countries have installed representative collections
in the Palace; while the Annex, made necessary by the unexpected number
of pictures from Europe, contains a large exhibit of Hungarian art, a
Norwegian display, filling seven rooms, a large British exhibit, and a
small group of pictures by Spanish painters, showing that the influence
of Velasquez is still powerful in Spanish art. The Norwegian display is
one of the largest foreign sections, quite as characteristic as the
Swedish, and certain to arouse discussion because of its extreme
modernism. The ultra-radical art of Edvard Munch, who is called the
greatest of Norwegian painters, and to whom a special room is assigned,
is sure to be a bone of contention among the critics. The work of Harald
Sohlberg (medal of honor) and Halfdan Strom (gold medal), differing
widely from Munch's, though hardly less modern in style, will also
attract much attention. The omission of Munch from the honor list is
really a tribute to his eminence. An artist who has won the Grand Prix
at Rome and awards in every other European capital was deemed outside of
competition here.
Axel Gallen-Kallela, the celebrated Finnish painter, winner of the
Exposition's medal of honor, fills another room in the Annex. This room,
covering adequately Gallen's progress through twenty-five years, is the
only one in the Exposition to illustrate the development of a great
painter from his student days. The collection runs from his earliest
academic work, photographic in its care for detail, to his present
mastery of Impressionism, wherein by a few strokes he expresses all the
essentials.
The Italian Futurists are well shown in the Annex, and for the first
time in this country. The Futurist pictures hitherto seen in America
have been French imitations of the Italian originators of the mode. A
sample Futurist title, "Architectural Construction of a Woman on the
Beach," may or may not indicate what these pictures reveal. The Annex,
too, has a splendid exhibit of the etchings of Frank Brangwyn, the great
Englishman, who is no less renowned as an etcher than as a painter, and
who has won the Exposition's medal of honor in the International
Section.
The arrangement of the rooms in the Fine Arts Gallery becomes simple
enough when the key is supplied. The United States section is in the
center, and, with the historical rooms, occupies, roughly, half the
space, flanked by the foreign rooms at either end of the building. Four
rooms of the United States section are separated from the rest and form
a narrow strip across the extreme north end of the gallery. The prints,
drawings, miniatures, and medals are installed in rooms forming a strip
along the west wall of the building.
The United States section is opened by a central hall opposite the main
entrance, and by a corridor extending on either side through to the
foreign sections. The central hall is chiefly devoted to sculpture,
including Karl Bitter's strong and characteristic group, "The Signing of
the Louisiana Purchase Treaty," Daniel Chester French's "Alice Freeman
Palmer Memorial," both winners of the medal of honor, Gertrude
Vanderbilt Whitney's fine central fountain, and other important work.
The walls are hung with ancient tapestries of great interest, and
paintings, mostly decorative, though Robert Vonnoh's "Poppies" and Ben
Au Haggin's "Little White Dancer" are admirable. Vonnoh won a gold
medal.