I have heard so much, lately, about artists who do not do their own
work, that I feel disposed to raise the veil upon the mysteries of the
studio, and enable those who are interested in the subject to form a
just conception of the amount of assistance to which a sculptor is
fairly entitled, as well as to correct the false, but very general
impression, that the artist, beginning with the crude block, and guided
by his imagination only, hews out his statue with his own hands.
So far from this being the case, the first labor of the sculptor is upon
a small clay model; in which he carefully studies the composition of his
statue, the proportions, and the general arrangement of the drapery,
without regard to very careful finish of parts. This being accomplished,
and the small model cast in plaster, he employs some one to enlarge his
work to any size which he may require; and this is done by scale, and
with almost as much precision as the full-size and perfectly finished
model is afterwards copied in marble.
The first step in this process is to form a skeleton of iron, the size
and strength of the iron rods corresponding to the size of the figure to
be modelled; and here, not only strong hands and arms are requisite,
but the blacksmith with his forge, many of the irons requiring to be
heated and bent upon the anvil to the desired angle. This solid
framework being prepared, and the various irons of which it is composed
firmly wired and welded together, the next thing is to hang thereon a
series of crosses, often several hundred in number, formed by two bits
of wood, two or three inches in length, fastened together by wire, one
end of which is attached to the framework. All this is necessary for the
support of the clay, which would otherwise fall by its own weight. (I
speak here of Roman clay,--the clay obtained in many parts of England
and America being more properly potter's clay, and consequently more
tenacious.) The clay is then pressed firmly around and upon the irons
and crosses with strong hands and a wooden mallet, until, from a clumsy
and shapeless mass, it acquires some resemblance to the human form. When
the clay is properly prepared, and the work advanced as far as the
artist desires, his own work is resumed, and he then laboriously studies
every part, corrects his ideal by comparison with living models, copies
his drapery from actual drapery arranged upon the lay-figure, and gives
to his statue the last refinement of beauty.
It will thus be seen that there is an intermediate stage, even in the
clay, when the work passes completely out of the sculptor's hands and is
carried forward by his assistant,--the work on which the latter is
employed, however, obviously requiring not the least exercise of
creative power, which is essentially the attribute of the artist. To
perform the part assigned him, it is not necessary that the assistant,
should be a man of imagination or refined taste,--it is sufficient that
he have simply the skill, with the aid of accurate measurements, to
construct the framework of iron and to copy the small model before him.
But in _originating_ that small model, when the artist had nothing to
work from but the image existing in his own brain, imagination, refined
feeling, and a sense of grace were essential, and were called into
constant exercise. So, again, when the clay model returns into the
sculptor's hands, and the work approaches completion, often after the
labor of many months, it is he alone who infuses into the clay that
refinement and individuality of beauty which constitute his "style," and
which are the test of the greater or less degree of refinement of his
mind, as the force and originality of the conception are the test of his
intellectual power.
The clay model having at last been rendered as perfect as possible, the
sculptor's work upon the statue is virtually ended; for it is then cast
in plaster and given into the hands of the marble-workers, by whom,
almost entirely, it is completed, the sculptor merely directing and
correcting the work as it proceeds. This disclosure, I am aware, will
shock the many, who often ingeniously discover traces of the sculptor's
hand where they do not exist. It is true, that, in some cases, the
finishing touches are introduced by the artist himself; but I suspect
that few who have accomplished and competent workmen give much of their
time to the mallet or the chisel, preferring to occupy themselves with
some new creation, or considering that these implements may be more
advantageously wielded by those who devote themselves exclusively to
their use. It is also true, that, although the process of transferring
the statue from plaster to marble is reduced to a science so perfect
that to err is almost impossible, yet much depends upon the workmen to
whom this operation is intrusted. Still, their position in the studio is
a subordinate one. They translate the original thought of the sculptor,
written in clay, into the language of marble. The translator may do his
work well or ill,--he may appreciate and preserve the delicacy of
sentiment and grace which were stamped upon the clay, or he may render
the artist's meaning coarsely and unintelligibly. Then it is that the
sculptor himself must reproduce his ideal in the marble, and breathe
into it that vitality which, many contend, only the artist can inspire.
But, whether skilful or not, the relation of these workmen to the artist
is precisely the same as that of the mere linguist to the author who, in
another tongue, has given to the world some striking fancy or original
thought.
But the question when the clay _is_ "properly prepared" forms the
debatable ground, and has already furnished a convenient basis for the
charge that it is never "properly prepared" for women-artists until it
is ready for the caster. I affirm, from personal knowledge, that this
charge is utterly without foundation,--and as it would be affectation in
me to ignore what has been so freely circulating upon this subject in
print, I take this opportunity of stating that I have never yet allowed
a statue to leave my studio, upon the clay model of which I had not
worked during a period of from four to eight months,--and further, that
I should choose to refer all those desirous of ascertaining the truth to
Mr. Nucci, who "prepares" my clay for me, rather than to my
brother-sculptor, in the _Via Margutta_, who originated the report that
I was an impostor. So far, however, as my designs are concerned, I
believe even he has not, as yet, found occasion to accuse me of drawing
upon other brains than my own.
We women-artists have no objection to its being known that we employ
assistants; we merely object to its being supposed that it is a system
peculiar to _ourselves_. When Thorwaldsen was called upon to execute his
twelve statues of the Apostles, he designed and furnished the small
models, and gave them into the hands of his pupils and assistants, by
whom, almost exclusively, they were copied in their present colossal
dimensions. The great master rarely put his own hand to the clay; yet we
never hear them spoken of except as "Thorwaldsen's statues." When
Vogelberg accepted the commission to model his colossal equestrian
statue of Gustavus Adolphus, physical infirmity prevented the artist
from even mounting the scaffolding; but he made the small model, and
directed the several workmen employed upon the full-size statue in clay,
and we never heard it intimated that Vogelberg was not the sculptor of
that great work. Even Crawford, than whom none ever possessed a more
rapid or facile hand, could never have accomplished half the immense
amount of work which pressed upon him in his later years, had he not had
more than one pair of hands to aid him in giving outward form to the
images in his fertile brain. Nay, not to refer solely to artists who are
no longer among us, I could name many studios, both in Rome and England,
belonging to our brothers in Art, in which the assistant-modeller forms
as necessary a part of studio-"property" as the living model or the
marble-workers,--and many more, on a smaller scale, in which he lends a
helping hand whenever required. If there are a few instances in which
the sculptor himself conducts his clay model through every stage, it is
usually because pecuniary considerations prevent his employing a
professional modeller.
I do not wish it to be supposed that Thorwaldsen's general practice was
such as I have described in the particular case referred to: probably no
artist ever studied or worked more carefully upon the clay model than
he. What I have stated was only with the view of showing to what extent
he felt himself justified in employing assistance. I am quite persuaded,
however, that, had Thorwaldsen and Vogelberg been women, and employed
one-half the amount of assistance they did in the cases mentioned, we
should long since have heard the great merit of their works attributed
to the skill of their workmen.
Nor should we forget--to draw for examples upon a kindred art--how
largely the painters of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries relied
upon the mechanical skill of their pupils to assist them in producing
the great works which bear their names. All the painters of note of that
time, like many of the present day, had their pupils, to whom was
intrusted much of the laborious portion of their work, the master
furnishing the design and superintending its execution. Raphael, for
instance, could never have left one half the treasures of Art which
adorn the Vatican and enrich other galleries, had he depended solely
upon the rapidity of his own hand; and of the many frescos which exist
in the Farnese Palace, and are called "Raphael's frescos," there are but
two in which are to be traced the master's hand,--the Galatea, and one
of the compartments in the series representing the story of Cupid and
Psyche.
It will thus be seen how large a portion of the manual labor which is
supposed to devolve entirely upon the artist is, and has always been,
really performed by other hands than his own. I do not state this fact
in a whisper, as if it were a great disclosure which involved the honor
of the artist; it is no secret, and there is no reason why it should be
so. The disclosure, it is true, will be received by all who regard
sculpture as simply a mechanical art with a feeling of disappointment.
They will brand the artist who cannot lay claim to the entire
manipulation of his statue, whether in clay or marble, as an
impostor,--nor will they resign the idea that the truly conscientious
sculptor will carve every ornament upon his sandals and polish every
button upon his drapery. But those who look upon sculpture as an
intellectual art, requiring the exercise of taste, imagination, and
delicate feeling, will never identify the artist who conceives,
composes, and completes the design with the workman who simply relieves
him from great physical labor, however delicate some portion of that
labor may be. It should be a recognized fact, that the sculptor is as
fairly entitled to avail himself of mechanical aid in the execution of
his work as the architect to call into requisition the services of the
stone-mason in the erection of his edifice, or the poet to employ the
printer to give his thoughts to the world. Probably the sturdy mason
never thinks much about proportion, nor the type-setter much about
harmony; but the master-minds which inspire the strong arm and cunning
finger with motion think about and study both. It is high time that some
distinction should be made between the labor of the hand and the labor
of the brain. It is high time, in short, that the public should
understand in what the sculptor's work properly consists, and thus
render less pernicious the representations of those who, either from
thoughtlessness or malice, dwelling upon the fact that assistance has
been employed in certain cases, without defining the limits of that
assistance, imply the guilt of imposture in the artists, and deprive
them, and more particularly women-artists, of the credit to which, by
talent or conscientious labor, they are justly entitled.