Daniel Chester French: Lincoln Memorial Preliminary Work

Daniel French with a 6 ft. high model for
the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.

"It was during the last years of the war [WWI] that Mr. French made, or at least finished, the seated statue of Lincoln for the Memorial in Washington D.C. His friend, and for years his collaborator, Henry Bacon, had been appointed the architect to design and build the Memorial, and he immediately engaged Mr. French to make the statue for which his beautiful building was to be the shrine. This was in 1915, but it was not till 1920 that it was finished and erected.

Few people understand the hazards, aside from the labor,  of cutting a statue in stone. The finest marble still comes from the ancient quarries in Italy - Carrara and Serravezza; but however carefully selected, a dark spot or defect of some sort may develop, necessitating the choosing of another block and beginning all over again. An excellent white marble from Georgia was chosen as being particularly well adapted to the execution of so large a figure as the Lincoln.

The popular idea that a sculptor rises from his couch at midnight, seizes his mallet and chisel, and, in a fine frenzy, hews out a beautiful statue before morning, exists only in poetry. Sculpture is a much more serious business than that. Occasionally a sculptor, when the spirit moves him, himself cuts a head or a torso out of the marble without a model or previous study, but usually the sculptor's model is copied by a marble-cutter and finished by the artist. There is evidence to prove that the old-time sculptor proceeded in much the same way as do the sculptors of the present day.

In order to determine how large the statue should be, a temporary plaster model of the Lincoln was made about twelve feet in height and erected in place in the Memorial. This proved much too small, and two solar prints were made, one eighteen feet in height, the other twenty feet, and put in place. Cut out from the background, they looked strangely like the real thing, and, as a consequence of these experiments, the statue was eventually made twenty feet in height instead of twelve as was orginally planned. Mr. French and Mr. Bacon, our daughter, and Evelyn Longman, who did much of the decorative work in the Memorial, went down to Washington to try the experiments."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Portrait Painting!

"Margaret French," a pastel by Daniel French

"During our summers at Chesterwood, Mr. French's greatest amusement was to play at portrait painting. He always hoped for a free summer when he might go off with a painter friend and study, and, with no idea of exhibiting, he painted all the girls who came to visit us. He was quite wonderful at catching a likeness, which showed, of course, his trained hand and eye in another line of work.

Some painters, as we know, care but little for the likeness, but Mr. French always claimed that, if the drawing were absolutely correct, the painting must look like the sitter. 'A likeness,' he used to say, 'consists not so much in getting in all the details, as in getting what you do get right. It really does not need very many details to convey an impression of a face or figure. A silhouette is a strong likeness as far as it goes, and it goes pretty far in spite of the fact that there are no eyes, no ears, no modelling of any kind. If the outline is absolutely correct, it looks exactly like the person.'" *

"In 1885, he took lessons and studied in Paris the following year and frequently painted portraits of his daughter, Margaret. She sat for at least four oil portraits and five in pastel. Inspired by her father, she also studied art at the New York School of Applied Design for Women, and became known as a portrait sculptor. And it was Margaret, the Frenchs' only child, who ensured that Chesterwood and her father's legacy would be transferred to the National Trust for Historic Preservation." **

To be continued

(* Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
** Excerpts from "Daniel Chester French: The Lincoln Memorial's Sculptor" by Cynthia Close for "Art & Object.")

 

 

Daniel Chester French: The Question of Expense

Maquettes by Daniel French

"In connection with studio life and the making of statues, there is one question - grave to every sculptor - which is naturally little understood by the outside world - the question of expense. A large room - for architectural sculpture a huge room - is an absolute necessity. The clay, the wax, the setting up of statues and busts, the skilled carpentry work, heavy express charges, models, the turning of the clay into plaster, and later the turning of plaster, by skilled workmen, into bronze or marble - all, unless a man is highly paid, eat up a large part of the profits.

I have known, in Mr. French's case, that sometimes when a statue was put in place, it was found that the entire large appropriation - in one case some $50,000 - was entirely used up in the expenses of casting, stonework, water for the pool, etc. Except in the case of another appropriation being made, there would be nothing left for the sculptor.

People generally do not understand the expense. For example, there was one of the great captains of industry. He wanted a statue of a certain kind for a certain place. He commissioned his architect to ask Mr. French - not to give the order, but to make a model on approval. Mr. French said that he should be glad to do so and submit the model, but that he charged for his designs, and that the price would be $500. Shortly after this, the architect received a letter from the captain of industry saying: 'What's the matter with these artist fellows What does French mean by charging for a design? Tell him that when I want a job, I go for it! Why, I've crossed the ocean in search of a job.' This so amused the architect that he told us about it, and Mr. French's comment was, 'Tell Mr. R___ that it's a great many years since I have had to go to Europe, or anywhere, to get a job.' 

I have often wished that I knew Mr. R___. He is a big man in his way, and I know that he must have a sense of humor and would appreciate the idea, if his attention were called to it, that he could not approach a work of art as he would a leak in the bathroom." 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

Daniel Chester French: The Chesterwood Studio

Daniel French studio, Chesterwood

"In 1897 we bought our place in Stockbridge, about three miles out in the country. We had lived in Concord and had spent two summers in Cornish, but we wanted to be on the direct route to New York with which, in those days, Mr. French felt obliged to keep in touch, both with his own work and especially with that of the Metropolitan Museum, of which he was a trustee.

We chose Stockbridge because we loved it from the first moment we looked upon it, the long flat street, with its old houses and great trees, its atmosphere of respectability and culture, and its intimate hills. We bought a place about three miles out on a back country road with a rambling house and beautiful trees, and a view which had an air of being especially created for our front porch. And there we settled down to live for the rest of our lives, at least from May through mid-November."

"The sculptor turned his immediate attention to the construction of a new free-standing studio, for this was to be not only a country home but a workplace. Construction began in the summer of 1897 while the Frenches were touring Europe. But the following summer, back in residence in Stockbridge, French was able to take up occupancy in his new studio, which he made sure included a colonnaded piazza from which, seated in wicker chairs, the sculptor and his visitors could enjoy unobstructed views of Monument Mountain. 

In the northern entranceway to the studio, French set up a sitting room to receive guests and patrons. The high-ceilinged workroom featured a strategically placed skylight to supply all-important soft, indirect illumination without shadows and shelving and pedestals ample enough to display plaster and bronze maquettes in abundance. A bookcase overflowed with easily accessible research volumes on such vital topics as military uniforms. Hanging intriguingly on one large hook was a leather saddle, ready whenever needed to accommodate a model posing indoors for an equestrian statue. A trap door in the floor allowed assistant to store old casts and fresh clay in the cellar.

'A fine casting room was at the back of the studio replete with all the paraphernalia that a sculptor needs at hand. There was a sink and faucet for the water that has to be sprayed on a clay statue every day. A portable wooden potter's wheel stood on casters, enabling French to roll his clay models from room to room so he could examine them from many angles and in different shades of light. But by far the most innovative feature of the studio was a revolving modeling platform atop a railroad flatcar. The car sat on a submerged indoor track leading outdoors through twenty-two-foot-high, double doors. By utilizing it, French could roll his latest work outside so he could view even his largest models in the full light of day - just as the public would eventually view his finished statuary."

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
**Excerpts from "Monument Man: The Life & Art of Daniel Chester French" by Harold Holzer.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Six Bronze Doors and a Headstone

Bronze door depicting "Wisdom"

Bronze door depicting "Knowledge"

"When Mr. French made six bronze doors for the Public Library in Boston, it was just nine years from the time he began them until they were finished, and McKim, slightly discouraged, used to write to him and say, 'How long, at the rate you have taken for the doors, would it take to make two statues for Alabama or' - or any one of his numerous projects? The doors drew high praise from sculptor Lorado Taft who described the low relief  as 'one of the final tests of a sculptor's skill' Then he noted: 'In the importunate and most difficult problems of composition, foreshortening, and draping, reduced almost to the ethereal, Mr. French has shown his skill to be quite equal to his refined taste.'

About this time, Mr. French had the opportunity and pleasure to doing something towards the completion of the headstone which the Alcott family were having made for their famous Aunt Louisa. After it was finished, her nephew, Mr. Pratt, one of Meg's sons, in writing Mr. French, wished they could show their appreciation of what he had done, and for which, of course, he had not been willing to take any remuneration.

Mr. French, after thinking it over, wrote back to him and said: 'There is something I would like you to do. My child is eight years old, and it would be a great pleasure if she could have some memento of Miss Louisa and her work. Perhaps you would send her one of the books - for instance, 'An Old-Fashioned Girl.' Later, to our great surprise, and almost - but not quite - to our embarrassment came a box with twenty-seven volumes of Miss Alcott's works, beautifully bound in blue and gold, with an autographed poem in the first volume. Of course we were all delighted, and Margaret almost overwhelmed at the importance of such a present..."

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.

Daniel Chester French: The John Boyle O'Reilly

"John Boyle O'Reilly Memorial" by Daniel Chester French

"One of those winters, Mr. French was making the John Boyle O'Reilly for the Back Bay in Boston. It was a large group, and he had already devoted himself to it for a couple of years, but he called me into the studio one day and said with a few anxious wrinkles in his forehead:

'Mary, I left this group here last spring on purpose so that I shouldn't see it for six months and could come back to it with a fresh eye, and now what should you think' - he gazed at me with a still more troubled expression - 'if I told you that I was going to pull it to pieces and make it over, more like the original sketch? We may not have much to eat for a while' - which was, of course, only a figure of speech - 'but I know I can better it, and I really don't see what else I can do.'

So we studied it carefully - I had always liked the sketch better myself - and that winter was devoted to getting into something that he felt he had missed in his previous year's work. Of course, all artists do that kind of thing, and having an artist for a husband and cousin, I was quite used to the idea.'"*

"John Boyle O'Reilly was an Irishman, who had agitated, sometimes violently, for Irish independence in the old country. He had been captured, tried for treason, and exiled to remote Western Australia. From there he had escaped and come to Boston, where he resumed his campaign for a free Ireland. He also quickly rose to prominence, writing for, and later running, the Catholic Newspaper, the 'Pilot,' and published half a dozen books of fiction and poetry. Sadly, he died young in 1890 after accidentally ingesting an overdose of his ailing wife's sleeping potion, and quickly became a legend. His passing unleashed an outpouring of grief which resulted in a campaign to raise fifty thousand dollars to fund a statue in his honor. His admirers invited French to design and execute 'a suitable memorial to the genius and manhood of John Boyle O'Reilly.'

"French proposed a larger-than-life bronze bust of the thickly mustachioed O'Reilly set against a richly carved granite stele. For the opposite side, against a similar backdrop, he would install a trio of allegorical statues in tribute to O'Reilly's virtues. A draped, hooded, and enthroned central figure would represent Erin, the personification of Ireland, her head downcast in mourning, weaving a wreath of shamrock for the fallen hero. She would be surrounded by statues representing 'Patriotism,' a Celtic warrior clutching a sword in one hand and an oak leaf - the symbol of strength - in the other; and the seminude, winged figure of 'Poetry' offering laurel - the ancient reward to poets. 

 Dedication day for the finished bronze was scheduled for June 20, 1896. With outgoing Vice President Adlai E. Stevenson I in attendance and Daniel Chester French looking on, the presentation exercises drew a large throng to witness a program of prayers, orations, and music. Toward the conclusion of the ceremonies, a male chorus sang out the words of 'Forever,' one of O'Reilly's beloved poems, aptly beginning with: 'Those we love truly never, never die.' As its final verse floated into the air, the Irish martyr's daughter tugged at a cord, releasing the veils, and revealing the striking memorial to the appreciative crowd."**

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
**Excerpts from "Monument Man: The Life & Art of Daniel Chester French" by Harold Holzer.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Cornish

"Christmas Morning" by Maxfield Parrish

"Cornish was, in my day, and of course still is, a community rather than a village, a scattering group of houses among the New Hampshire hills. For the mail and for whatever small business affairs there were, we drove down long hills, and along flat river banks, and through an old ramshackle covered bridge, into the town of Windsor.

The places were lovely and unusual. There was none of the old-fashioned method of clearing off a tract of land, cutting down trees, filling up ravines, laying out roads between the house and the view. In other words, the taking out of everything that naturally grew there and putting in everything that was foreign.

I think of the sculptor, Herbert Adam's place how exquisite it was, and yet a house and a barn about sixty feet apart with a high fence connecting the two and painted white, a parallelogram of green inside, a few columns, a stone floor against the house, and am amphora or a colored relief against the white walls of the barn - one might have been in Italy or anywhere, and yet no effort, no expense, no display.

And of course Maxfield Parrish's place - a little rambling farmhouse on a hillside, as I remember it. We wandered up along a winding pathway, and there, in front of the house a few yards away and slightly lower, was the oval pool which he has made famous with blue waters and peaked Alps, recumbent maidens and youths.

Charles Platt's home was a kind of American Italy. The Tom Dewing house, low upon the road, with its little garden ablaze, as I remember it, with every shade of yellow, and upon the hill opposite, the Italian villa which Mrs. Johnston, then Miss Annie Lazarus had built and made beautiful.

Some of the artists used to say that Saint-Gaudens had the only real house in Cornish. It was a brick of the severe Colonial type, and had in the earlier days been a tavern. He had done everything to it that he could think of to make it as little like New England as possible. He had put an elaborate fence around the top of the bank with Greek heads at regular intervals, and a big, elaborate porch at the front to get that 'infernal Puritan look' out of it, which offended his Celtic soul. This porch looked towards Ascutney, as do most of the houses in Cornish, just as in Sicily they look toward Aetna, and in Japan towards Fujiyama."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)