Philip de Laszlo: Progress

"Mrs. Philip de László, née Lucy Madeleine
Guinness" by Philip de Laszlo

Philip de Laszlo wrote: "I had now had had three different apprenticeships. Deep was the concern at home over my present and future. My father, who was seldom content with anybody, considered I was wasting my life because I was no longer earning money, and through him my home became a hell. 

Meanwhile I racked my brains to think how I could become a painter. Suddenly my mother and I hit upon the idea that I should become the pupil of a sign-painter. The head of the business was a man called Neumann. He also painted portraits, and I entered his service at five florins a month. It was Neumann's custom to charge fifty florins for a portrait, but the work was done by an old and impoverished artist, who received only half the commission - and the portrait was merely painted from a photograph. One day I was told to take a canvas, together with some photographs, to this artist. 

I took the canvas with me when I went home that evening. Overnight I drew the whole of the picture in with black chalk and next day handed it over to the old man. When he saw the picture he was astonished. 'Did Herr Neumann do this drawing?' he asked. 'No,' I replied, 'It is my work.' He told me that I was wasting my time in Neumann's service and that I should choose a calling which would give me an opportunity of painting in my spare time. 'That is impossible,' I told him. 'My parents are poor and I must earn money.' He then told me to go to a good photographer, where I should be able to use my talents and earn better money, and at the same time attend an art school.

He was also good enough to give me an introduction to Sandor Strelisky, one of the oldest and best known photographers in Budapest. Strelisky gave me a three years' contract. I had to colour photographic prints with watercolors. Later I learned to retouch the prints and went on doing this till the end of my time. Some of the notable people whose photographs I painted became my intimate friends later on.

When I was fifteen I drew a head of Count Eugen Zichy in charcoal, my uncle Philip giving me the money for the frame. With my mother I went to show Count Zichy the picture. He received us in a friendly manner and gave me an introduction to the Director of the Arts and Crafts School, Dr. John Videky. The drawing was exhibited in the leading bookshop in Pest and found a buyer. This was my first step in getting away from photography to serious art."

To be continued

(Excerpts are from "Portrait of a Painter" by Otto Rutter.)

Philip Alexius de László: A Difficult Start

"Philippe de Gramont" by Philip de Laszlo

When Philip de László was a lad of nine, small for his age, thin and pale, he began a series of jobs in spite of his father's displeasure with the profession of an artist. He recalled those days thusly:

"At this time a very popular play was being performed at the People's Theater. For one scene a number of children were needed, and I took part in it for ten kreuzers a performance. But what impressed me most was the painted scenery. I became obsessed with the idea of becoming a scene-painter. After much persuasion I induced my mother, unknown to my father, to take me to see the celebrated scene-painter Lehmann. My mother told him of my ambition. He looked through the drawings I had done especially for the purpose. 'All right, then,' he said finally. 'Come, and we'll see what you can do,' and promised me five florins a month. 

I was given little scenes to paint for practice. Soon I was busy cooking the colours. What I found most difficult was the preparation of the canvas, but I did it willingly and was the happiest boy in the world. In the second month I was allowed to begin to paint small-scale models, pieces of sky, walls, and so on. After a time I received higher pay, which not only helped me but my mother. When he asked me, however, to act as a messenger boy in his love affairs, I thanked him for what he had done for me, but refused to return. 

My father made me suffer for this, but my mother, always patient, then went with me to one of the foremost scene-painters of the Royal Opera House in Budapest. He had a higher position than Lehmann and had a number of good painters working under him. To my great delight he agreed to employ me, but there was one student who disliked me. One morning while I was busy drawing, he and his friends seized me and bullied me so heartlessly that I collapsed. When I recovered, I left the studio never to return. Nevertheless, this experience gave me strength and persistence and the will to hold out and go forward. I determined that nothing should prevent my becoming an artist. 

My father, who shunned any kind of responsibility, gave me up, and my uncle Philip introduced me to Vogel, an architectural sculptor. He took me into his workshop as an apprentice. I was then about eleven years old. The workshop was an hour's walk from my home, and I had to be at work by six o-clock every morning. My mother used to give me hot soup before I left, and pack my lunch - sausage and bread - for me to take in my pocket. 

Vogel worked himself and was always busy. He had about forty assistants and took very little notice of me. For five florins a month I had to light the fire in the stove, put everything in order and then, in a dark cellar, prepare the clay before the men came. Often I thought my hands would freeze. But on Sundays and Saturday afternoons, when the workshops were empty, I used to try my hand at modelling for my own pleasure. One Saturday afternoon I modelled a group of fruit, and as Vogel was passing through Monday morning he saw it and asked who had done it. From that time he let me do modelling only and paid me a small extra wage. I remained with Vogel for about three months. But once again I suffered from the jealousy of my comrades and became convinced that it would be better for me to leave."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip Alexius de László: Early Influences

"Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother of Great
Britain, nee Lady Elizabeth Angela Marguerite
Bowes Lyon; Consort of George VI" by
Philip de Laszlo

"'Has any one painter ever before painted so many interesting and historical personages?' wrote Lord Selborne to de Laszlo in 1927. It would be difficult to think of one. During the course of his career de Laszlo painted over 2,700 portraits. Not even Antony Van Dyck left so representative a collection of his time, and de Laszlo's was the momentous period of transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth century.

In his biography he begins by recalling his life as a child: 'It was in the year 1869, on 30 April, that my dear mother bore me in humble circumstances in Budapest. When I was born I already had two sisters, after me came my brother Marczi, then Pauline, then Arnold, who after a weary illness died a few years later. I think that after Arnold I had three more brothers, who all died during the first years of their lives.

As I grew older, drawing alone gave me pleasure. It was a hobby of mine to collect the rough coloured papers in which groceries were delivered to use them for drawing on. I kept the drawings in the divan which also was my bed. If my aunts came, my little brother would bring out my drawings, but my aunts showed little enthusiasm for my art, and my father even less than they.

My school days came to an abrupt end when I was nine and thrashed by the headmaster for kissing a girl. Needless to say I avoided seeing her again, and the school never saw me again either. When I left school I had an earnest desire to find work so that I could lighten my mother's burden.

Also at this time my great fellow countryman, Michael Munkacsy, had earned an international reputation with his picture 'Christ before Pilate,' and had come to Budapest. The picture was on exhibition and I wanted to see this great work which all the world admired, but I lacked the few kreuzers that were necessary. Therefore I went to my uncle, who was a doctor, and unlike my father, took a great interest in my love of art. He gave me a whole florin.

I went early next morning when there was hardly a soul in the room. I can find no words to describe my feelings as I stood there looking at the picture. I gazed at the Christ with his godlike expression undergoing his earthly fate. I trembled before the greatness of the work. Child as I was, I could not fully understand it, yet I felt its artistic worth with my whole being. I went away gripped by the resolution that I too would accomplish something great in art like this Michael Munkacsy, who had started life as poor as I was myself."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

William Merritt Chase: Final Days

"The Young Orphan" by William Merritt Chase

"The winter of 1915-16 William Merritt Chase continued with his private class, but he did less painting than usual. Although not aware that he had any serious ailment, he was conscious of not feeling himself.

In the spring he gave a talk to the students of the Art League - his last. In May he went to the meeting of the Federation of Arts in Washington, the last public function that he was to attend. In June the New York University conferred the degree of Doctor of Laws upon him. Though he grew steadily weaker through the summer, he continued to go to his studio. A portrait of Mr. Gwathmey was his last work.

In September he went with Mrs. Chase to Atlantic City. The first days of his stay there Chase was able to walk a short distance. He bought a few rings at a near-by shop, and strongly desired a Japanese hanging of dark blue and silver that he saw in a window, but didn't buy it. So Mrs. Chase had it sent to the hotel as a surprise for him. He took a great fancy to this decoration, and had it placed where he could see it from his bed.

To ill to read and not wanting to be read to, he cared only to talk of pictures and art, reviewing with his wife the art treasures of the European galleries - playing a sort of game of remembering each detail of a canvas, even its placing upon the gallery wall, and what other pictures were in that same room. 

At last as he only grew weaker, he was taken back to New York. A few days before his death, while he was still able to talk, his friend Irving Wiles came to see him. Although very weak and near the end, he had sent to his studio for some pictures to show his painter friend. An artist to his inner most soul, that last characteristic act had a touching significance to those who knew and loved him.

As his wife was leaving the room to tell Wiles to enter, he called her back. He wanted the Japanese hanging arranged so that it would show all its beauties to the other artist. Before he died he expressed the wish that Wiles should finish his unfinished portrait commissions.

The last two days of his life he was unconscious. On October 25th he died. He was interred in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn."

(Excerpts from "The Life and Art of William Morris Chase" by Katharine Metcalf Roof.)

William Merritt Chase, the Teacher

"Japanese Print" by William Merritt Chase

"William Merritt Chase once said: 'I believe I am the father of more art children than any other teacher.' He had classes in New York, Brooklyn, Philadelphia, Hartford and Chicago. He taught altogether twenty-one years at the Art League, twelve years at the New York School of Art, thirteen years in Philadelphia and five in Brooklyn, in addition to the classes held in his own studio. He had summer classes in California, England, Italy, Belgium, Holland and Spain, and taught for eleven summer at Shinnecock. Also while he was teaching in Philadelphia Chase had a free class for students who could not afford to pay for instruction.

'Association with my pupils has kept me young in my work,' he often said. 'Criticism of their work has kept my own point of view clear.' His criticism was always a painter's criticism, suggestive rather than explicit. To the honest young student in the museum who said she did not like the Manet 'Woman with the Parrot,' his kindly amused reply, 'No? Oh, but you will,' was always remembered. Concerning those things that can come only with the growth of perception, he did not instruct but left them to time. 

Other well known words of advice to his students were: 

'Don't try to make comparisons between your own pictures. Forget what you have done and think only of making the best of what you are doing.'

'Combine a certain amount of indifference with your ambition. Be carefully careless. If you don't succeed today, there is always tomorrow.'

'Do not try to paint the grandiose thing. Paint the commonplace so that it will be distinguished.'

'When you begin to wonder what to do, stop.'

Essential artist that he was, he was ever humble before the great spirit of art. In his mind there remained always the distance between his ideal and his achievement, a deep feeling expressed once when, after showing a number of his pictures to a guest, he pointed to a blank canvas. 'But that is my masterpiece,' he said, 'my unpainted picture.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Life and Art of William Merritt Chase" by Katharine Metcalf Roof.) 

William Merritt Chase: Self-Portrait for Richmond, Indiana, Pt. 3

"Self-Portrait in the 4th Avenue Studio" by William Merritt Chase

Ella Johnston wrote: "This was to be my last call on Mr. William Merritt Chase and I planned to be serious and severe. I wrote him several weeks before going, the date of my arrival and that I would expect to find the portrait finished as he had promised. I phoned him as soon as I was settled and was greeted warmly and told that the portrait was finished, that he had done an important canvas which he thought would please me. He asked me to bring Mr. Warner Leeds, who was giving $500 towards the work, and come to the studio the next morning. 

Mr. Chase met us at the door with beaming face and gave us a gracious welcome. He seemed that morning to be keyed up to an unusually high pitch. He led us across the the first studio and turning to the right we found ourselves immediately in front of a very large painting on an easel in the middle of the room.

A photo of Mr. Chase's portrait in his studio

With one swift glance I saw on the canvas not only a three-quarters portrait of the painter but all the still life I had asked for. For a full half minute, which can be a long time, I was absolutely dumb, then I stole a glance at Mr. Leeds to see the effect on him. He looked anything but pleased, and I knew instantly that he was thinking, 'They are about to hold me up for several thousand dollars.' Chase saw Mr. Leed's dilemma and said, 'No, no, I have not forgotten what you are to pay me.' 'But not this painting, Mr. Chase,' I said. 'Yes,' he replied, 'this is your picture!'

Then with the greatest enthusiasm and much stroking of his mustache he told Mr. Leeds what fun he had had in bringing into the composition all the still life I had suggested, and yet keep the picture the portrait of a painter. He was happy to have so much of his studio in the picture. I asked him what was on the empty canvas in the painting. 'That,' said Mr. Chase, 'is my masterpiece, the alluring, tantalizing great picture which I always hoped to paint and have never quite succeeded in creating.' He was in the white heat of accomplishment. It was a thrilling revelation that I shall never forget.

Finally Mr. Leeds, still a little mystified, said, 'But Mr. Chase why did you do this? Why did you paint such an important work when we only asked for a head?' The painter replied, 'Indeed, I could get more money for it than you are to pay me. A dealer this morning offered me a handsome price for it but I told him the painting was already sold.' 'Why did I paint it? I will tell you, I painted it for Mrs. Johnston here, I think she deserves it for all she has done for art in Indiana and the West.

It was a grand gesture, characteristic of Mr. Chase. He would have made it freely, magnificently though he had not a dollar left in his pocket. Such was the man. He lived well - beautifully, and, I am told, died poor."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Art Movement in Richmond, Indiana: A History" by Ella Bond Johnston. My thanks to Richmond Art Museum director, Shaun Dingwerth, for sending me a copy of this story.)

William Merritt Chase: Self-Portrait for Richmond, Indiana, Pt. 2

"Self-Portrait" by William Merritt Chase

"The next year when in New York I hurried to William Merritt Chase's studio, I found no portrait ready. He had only excuses. He had been too busy with his pupils, his portrait commissions, and summers in Italy to think of doing his own head - but he would get at it soon. He was so sorry to disappoint me and so gracious in showing me his latest works that I had to forget my disappointment and try to smile, but before leaving I said, 'Mr. Chase we have waited a year for our picture. I think you might put some of this interesting still life in the portrait, these twinkling new tubes of paint and this bowl on the table.' 'All right,' he said, 'I will. I'll make you something nice.'

The next year when I called at his studio he was busy getting ready for a sitter but asked me in and began profuse apologies for not having our portrait head ready but declared that he would soon do it. To avoid showing my extreme annoyance (I did want to get that portrait sometime) I resorted to the pleasantry of the year before and suggested that since we had waited two years, he should put in our picture that beautiful gold box and the blue vase with the brushes. He was amused and with a most enthusiastic bit of acting, declared he would put them in with their rich coloring and that he would make us a fine picture.

The third year I went to New York there was still no portrait. I had some difficulty in keeping a smiling face but I listened patiently to his earnest protestations that he could certainly soon paint a head for us. I made an effort at friendliness and said, 'Now we have waited three years. Please put in that brilliant pile of old brocades by the window that are so lovely in the afternoon sunlight.' He declared dramatically that he would put in everything I wanted and that he would make us something important, and he asked, 'Wouldn't you like a fish too?' 'No,' I replied, 'I fear there would not be room for your head which is what we want.' 

When I had given up all hope of ever getting a Chase head for our Richmond gallery and had gone in 1915 to San Francisco to serve as Senior Docent in the Fine Arts Palace of the World's Fair, I again met William Chase who was there serving on the Jury of Awards. We renewed our friendly acquaintance but I did not mention the portrait. He did, and assured me that it would be finished when I would be in New York early in 1916. But would it really?

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Art Movement in Richmond, Indiana: A History" by Ella Bond Johnston. My thanks to Richmond Art Museum director, Shaun Dingwerth, for sending me a copy of this story.)