At a period in which, among the many manifestations of
intellectual activity in the nations, art is placed in the
background, the advent of a great artist invariably calls forth
the same phenomena: a few men of taste become enthusiasts, the
majority become indignant, and the public, not being possessed of
sufficient esthetic education, and intolerant because of their lack
of understanding, ridicule the intruder who has overthrown the
accepted standards of the century. Friends and foes alike consider
him a revolutionist; as a matter of fact, he is in open revolt
against ignorance and general incompetence.
Little by little the great truth embodied in such a man is
revealed. Comprehension, like a contagion, seems to take hold
of the minds of people, and impels them to study his art at
first hand. A study not only of his own significance, but of
the principles which he represents, quickly reveals that the
work of this innovator, this revolutionist, is, in fact, deeply
allied to tradition, and, far from being a mysterious, isolated
manifestation, is, on the contrary, closely linked to general
artistic ideals.
Our aim is to penetrate the doctrines of this master, his
method, his manner of working--all that which at other times would
have been called his secrets.
Auguste Rodin's career has passed through the inevitable
phases. He, who has been so generally discussed and attacked, is
to-day the most regarded of all artists. He likes to talk of his
art; for he knows that his observations have a priceless value,
that of experience--the experience of sixty years of uninterrupted
work--and of a conscience perhaps even more exacting to-day than at
the time of his impetuous youth. He says, "My principles are the
laws of experience." The combination of these principles embodies
his greatest precept; namely, that of thinking and executing a
thing simultaneously. We must listen to Rodin as we would listen
to Michelangelo or Rembrandt if they were living. For his method
may be the starting-point of an artistic renaissance in Europe,
perhaps throughout the whole world. Definite signs of a decided
resurrection in taste are already manifesting themselves, and it
is a splendid satisfaction for the illustrious sculptor to receive
such acknowledgment in his glorious old age. For, like every
great genius, he has a profound love for the race from which he
springs, and feels a strong instinctive confidence in it. Indeed,
how should this be otherwise? In the course of centuries, has not
this wonderful Celtic race on various occasions reconstructed its
understanding and interpretation of beauty?
Auguste Rodin expresses himself by preference on subjects
from which he can draw an actual lesson. He is no theorist; he
has an eminently positive mind, one might even say a practical
mind. His teachings, unlike the abstract teachings of books, can
be characterized by two words, observation and deduction. His
are not more or less arbitrary meditations in which personal
imagination plays the principal part; they are rather the account
of a sagacious, truthful traveler, of a soldier who relates the
story of his campaigns, or of a scholar who records the result of
an analysis. Reality is his only basis, and with justice to himself
he can say, "I am not a rhetorician, but a man of action."
We hear him chat, it may be in his atelier about some piece of
antique sculpture which has just come into his possession or about
a work he has in hand, or during his rambles through his garden,
which is situated in the most delightful country in the suburbs of
the capital, or on a walk through the museums, or through the old
quarter of Paris. For in his opinion "the streets of Paris, with
their shops of old furniture, etchings, and works of art, are a
veritable museum, far less tiring than official museums, and from
which one imbibes just as much as one can."
* * * * *
I use the words of the people, of the man in the street; for thoughts
should be clear and easily comprehended. I desire to be understood by
the great majority, and I leave scholarly words and unusual phrasing
to specialists in estheticism. Moreover, what I say is very simple. It
is within the grasp of ordinary intelligence. Up to now it has been of
hardly any value. It is something quite new, and will remain so as long
as the ideas which I stand for are not actively carried out.
If these ideas were understood and applied, the destruction of ancient
works of art would cease immediately. By bad restoration we are ruining
our most beautiful works of art, our marvelous architecture, our
Gothic cathedrals, Renaissance city halls, all those old houses that
transformed France into a garden of beauty of which it was impossible to
grow weary, for everything was a delight to the eye and intelligence.
Our workmen would have to be as capable as those of former times to
restore those works of art without changing them, they would have to
possess the same wonderfully trained eye and hand. But to-day we have
lost that conception and execution. We live in a period of ignorance,
and when we put our hand to a masterpiece, we spoil it. Restoring, in
our way, is almost like jewelers replacing pearls with false diamonds,
which the ignorant accept with complacency.
The Americans who buy our paintings, our antique furniture, our old
engravings, our materials, pay very dearly for them. At least we think
so. As a matter of fact they buy them very cheaply, for they obtain
originals which can never be duplicated. We mock at the American
collectors; in reality we ought to laugh at ourselves. For we permit our
most precious treasures to be taken out of the country, and it is they
who have the intelligence to acquire them.
My ideas, once understood and applied, would immediately revive art, all
arts, not only sculpture, painting, and architecture, but also those
arts which are called minor, such as decoration, tapestry, furniture,
the designing of jewelry and medals, etc. The artisan would revert to
fundamental truth, to the principles of the ancients--principles which
are the eternal basis of all art, regardless of differences of race and
temperament.