rejuvenating transformations, sufficiently radical to sustain the vitality of art, which, in fact, lives only by transformations.
For this, different needs must make themselves felt; such needs always follow in the train of modifications in the social state and the customs which it engenders. It may be that this democratic accession to power will prove to be one of these modifications, and a most radical one.
Possibly this democracy, in its confused, but powerful, virgin instinct, may have vaguely comprehended that something is preparing for it, a work which is to be its work; it apparently cares little for our petty criticisms, however just we may deem them; it hardly pauses to consider the objections raised by our purism; it pays little heed when we halt before those gigantic palaces, which have recently sprung up, to analyze them, to criticize the heaviness of certain parts, their inelegance or awkwardness and their so-called refinements, which are merely lack of power. It looks little to details; in a broad way it has caught a glimpse in this imposing ensemble of something new, created for it and in its image, and which speaks to its soul. There is still, too much routine, there are yet too many traditions which we find difficulty in dislodging? No matter, this democracy has felt the stir of a new emotion, and it cares not for criticism.
It is right. All these things will correct themselves, provided that the new may be resolutely followed, provided that new combinations be boldly tried, even though some prove unfortunate; let the work go on, notwithstanding imperfections and failures; let every innovation, every departure from hackneyed conventionality, find encouragement. The only thing that could prove incorrigible is that powerlessness which persists in servilely imitating an art that is representative of a dead past, whether Classic or Gothic. P. Planat.
EMMANUEL FRÉMIET. 1 — VIII. F
REMIET’S contribution to the Universal Exhibition of 1889, was far more important in quality and quantity of work than that of any other sculptor. It was especially important because it gave a unique opportunity to study it in close proximity to that of other sculptors. Those who had long been his admirers enjoyed a high confirming and comparative satisfaction, while many partisans of other sculptors were astonished at the superiority of the “ Age of Stone, ” “Robber of Young Bears, ” and the “Gorilla, ” and willingly accorded
it to their author. Then, M. More, his editor, made a very complete exhibition of his small bronzes, and reduced copies of his large ones, about a hundred and fifty in all, and this presented an extremely interesting opportunity to study the full range of the sculptor’s equestrian work. As a whole, the show was immensely imposing:
the labor of a life of undeviating loyalty to art on a high plane. From the best judges of all countries, there came the verdict that to Fremiet all must bow. So, at the age of sixty-five years, he becomes known to all the world as the greatest living master of the
art of sculpture. The press generally joined in this encomium, adding that he “best represented a school, originated by Barye, which places itself squarely in front of nature, without regard to symbolism or anthropomorphism. ”
The art-exhibit at the great Exhibition brought about among other things, some terribly levelling effects. Works that had been popularly accepted as classics for a quarter of a century went out
like a flash, and men who had been recognized by the same momentary feeling for a like period left the stage in shadow. A new dispensation, based upon a better understanding between the art of
a day and that of time, was ushered in, for a time, at least.1 Continued from No. 801, page 72.
Fremiet, Sculptor.
ˮWounded Dog” in the Luxembourg Gallery, Paris. Fremiet, Sculptor.
ˮSt. Hubertˮ (Bronze Statuette). Fremiet, Sculptor.
The ˮPorte-Falot ˮ in the Hotel de Ville, Paris. Fremiet, Sculptor.
For this, different needs must make themselves felt; such needs always follow in the train of modifications in the social state and the customs which it engenders. It may be that this democratic accession to power will prove to be one of these modifications, and a most radical one.
Possibly this democracy, in its confused, but powerful, virgin instinct, may have vaguely comprehended that something is preparing for it, a work which is to be its work; it apparently cares little for our petty criticisms, however just we may deem them; it hardly pauses to consider the objections raised by our purism; it pays little heed when we halt before those gigantic palaces, which have recently sprung up, to analyze them, to criticize the heaviness of certain parts, their inelegance or awkwardness and their so-called refinements, which are merely lack of power. It looks little to details; in a broad way it has caught a glimpse in this imposing ensemble of something new, created for it and in its image, and which speaks to its soul. There is still, too much routine, there are yet too many traditions which we find difficulty in dislodging? No matter, this democracy has felt the stir of a new emotion, and it cares not for criticism.
It is right. All these things will correct themselves, provided that the new may be resolutely followed, provided that new combinations be boldly tried, even though some prove unfortunate; let the work go on, notwithstanding imperfections and failures; let every innovation, every departure from hackneyed conventionality, find encouragement. The only thing that could prove incorrigible is that powerlessness which persists in servilely imitating an art that is representative of a dead past, whether Classic or Gothic. P. Planat.
EMMANUEL FRÉMIET. 1 — VIII. F
REMIET’S contribution to the Universal Exhibition of 1889, was far more important in quality and quantity of work than that of any other sculptor. It was especially important because it gave a unique opportunity to study it in close proximity to that of other sculptors. Those who had long been his admirers enjoyed a high confirming and comparative satisfaction, while many partisans of other sculptors were astonished at the superiority of the “ Age of Stone, ” “Robber of Young Bears, ” and the “Gorilla, ” and willingly accorded
it to their author. Then, M. More, his editor, made a very complete exhibition of his small bronzes, and reduced copies of his large ones, about a hundred and fifty in all, and this presented an extremely interesting opportunity to study the full range of the sculptor’s equestrian work. As a whole, the show was immensely imposing:
the labor of a life of undeviating loyalty to art on a high plane. From the best judges of all countries, there came the verdict that to Fremiet all must bow. So, at the age of sixty-five years, he becomes known to all the world as the greatest living master of the
art of sculpture. The press generally joined in this encomium, adding that he “best represented a school, originated by Barye, which places itself squarely in front of nature, without regard to symbolism or anthropomorphism. ”
The art-exhibit at the great Exhibition brought about among other things, some terribly levelling effects. Works that had been popularly accepted as classics for a quarter of a century went out
like a flash, and men who had been recognized by the same momentary feeling for a like period left the stage in shadow. A new dispensation, based upon a better understanding between the art of
a day and that of time, was ushered in, for a time, at least.1 Continued from No. 801, page 72.
Fremiet, Sculptor.
ˮWounded Dog” in the Luxembourg Gallery, Paris. Fremiet, Sculptor.
ˮSt. Hubertˮ (Bronze Statuette). Fremiet, Sculptor.
The ˮPorte-Falot ˮ in the Hotel de Ville, Paris. Fremiet, Sculptor.