Classic French Sculpture, American Style: Spotlighting the Work of Daniel Chester French (1850-1931)

Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC. Photo by Seth Arkin

I feel fairly certain that realistic, figural sculpting isn't a completely lost art.

Presuming that when work progresses on the Barack Obama Presidential Center in Chicago's Jackson Park, a sculpture of the 44th President of the United States is commissioned, there will undoubtedly be many talented artists bidding for the opportunity to carve it. 

A few years ago, at a friend's holiday party, I met a couple responsible for creating some pretty notable sculptures in Chicago, though I can't recall their names.

Yet I consider myself an art lover, who will notice and photograph sculptures--including abstract and interpretive ones, though here am referencing likenesses of military heroes, famed citizens, etc.--across Chicago and around the world, and I really can name but a few sculptors in this regard.

And most of these--Michelangelo, Auguste Rodin, Antonio Canova, Bertel Thorvaldsen--are more noted for artistic sculptures, rather than straightforward honorary ones.

Which basically leaves Gutzon Borglum--most known for carving four presidential heads into Mount Rushmore--Lorado Taft and the subject of this post, Daniel Chester French, as the only sculptors of this ilk I can cite.

The Chicago Public Art Guide is a nice resource, and informs that Augustus Saint-Gaudens merits inclusion among the names above. The guide is oddly quite light about statues in Lincoln Park, and though the Giants in the Park website shows many of these sculptures, it seems I need to buy a book to learn the sculptors names.

Photo by Seth Arkin

All of the sculptors I've named above--including Daniel Chester French--are long-deceased, but Google reveals that the Michael Jordan statue at the United Center, plus several other notable works, were created by Julie Rotblatt-Amrany and Omni Amrany, a married couple with a shared studio. (This is not the couple I met, but the work seems similar.)

While I obviously cannot claim to be an expert on fine art sculptors of the past or present, over the years I've repeatedly heard the name Daniel Chester French and come across several of his works.

French (1850-1931)--who grew up in Concord, Massachusetts as friends with Ralph Waldo Emerson and the Louisa May Alcott family--is probably most famed for his sculpture of President Abraham Lincoln that sits at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC.

Throughout his long career, he also created several other sculptures that I've seen (and in many cases photographed), as well as many more I haven't personally encountered.

But there were at least three French statues I came across on a recent trip to Boston, and so I decided to put together this blog post, depicting primarily--but not only--my photos of his sculptures.

Memory, the Marshall Field Memorial, Graceland Cemetery, Chicago. Photo by Seth Arkin

General Joseph Hooker, Massachusetts State House, Boston. Edward Potter sculpted the horse.
Photo by Seth Arkin

DuPont Circle Fountain, Washington, DC. Photo by Seth Arkin

Alma Mater, Columbia University, New York, NY

John Harvard, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA. Photo by Seth Arkin.
French sculpted this with no point of reference to what John Harvard actually looked like.

The Minuteman, Concord, MA

(Subject unknown by blog author), Massachusetts State House, Boston. Photo by Seth Arkin

Wendell Phillips, Boston Public Garden

Lady Wisconsin, Wisconsin State Capitol Dome, Madison, WI

Progress of the State, Minnesota State Capitol, St. Paul. Photo by Seth Arkin

Richard Morris Hunt Memorial, Central Park at 70th St., New York, NY

Roger Wolcott, Massachusetts State House, Boston. Photo by Seth Arkin

John Boyle O'Reilly Memorial, Boston

Statue of the Republic (reduced size from original at Columbian Exposition),
Jackson Park, Chicago. Photo by Seth Arkin

Appreciating Some "Rio" Artistry: Tarsila do Amaral and Modern Art in Brazil (including numerous examples from the MNBA in Rio de Janeiro)

Tarsila do Amaral. Abaporu, 1928.

Art Exploration
focusing on:

Tarsila do Amaral
Inventing Modern Art in Brazil
Exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago
Thru January 7, 2018
Exhibition website

Paintings in the collection of the
Museu Nacional de Belas Artes
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Visited March 2014
Museum website | Brazilian paintings

On an early December visit to the Art Institute of Chicago--I go at least a few times each year--I noted and perused an exhibition on the Brazilian painter Tarsila do Amaral, with whom I was not previously familiar.

Known primarily by just her first name, Tarsila lived from 1886-1973 and per the exhibit's subtitle--Inventing Modern Art in Brazil--she was among the first, and most influential, modern artists in Brazil.

I enjoyed the thorough but relatively compact exhibition within the AIC's Modern Wing, and appreciated Tarsila's vibrant use of color.

Tarsila do Amaral. Anthropology, 1929

Having opened in October, the exhibit is closing tomorrow, so this article doesn't provide much of a chance for you to go see it, even if you're in the Chicago area. (In my defense, I traveled to New York City soon after my Art Institute visit and then got caught up in my barrage of Best of 2017 posts.)

But while I found my brief exploration of some of Tarsila's art worthwhile, I spent less than 30 minutes in the exhibit space, as part of a membership visit (i.e. no direct cost), and a bit short of being blown away, I wouldn't advocate that the showcase is (or was) in itself a reason to rush down to the AIC. (Though do check it out if you get there tomorrow.)

Besides liking, if not quite loving, the paintings on an acute level, what intrigued me about the Tarsila do Amaral: Inventing Modern Art in Brazil exhibition are the memories it stoked of seeing and enjoying modern art on my trip to Rio de Janeiro in the spring of 2014.

Tarsila do Amaral. Postcard, 1929

Although I love exploring art museums almost anywhere I travel, I can't say visiting the Museu Nacional de Belas Artes was the highlight of my time in Rio, what with Copacabana and Ipanema beaches and boardwalks, Sugarloaf mountain, Christ the Redeemer statue upon Mount Corcovado, the Selarón Steps, soccer game at Maracana stadium, some fine food and more.

But though supposedly not even the most popular art museum in Rio de Janeiro, nor as good as some in São Paulo, the MNBA--the Portuguese translates to National Museum of Fine Arts--provided, along with the Confeitaria Colombo and some other sights, strong justification for venturing to downtown Rio.

And though the museum's collections don't represent many well-known French, Italian, Spanish and other international artists, much of what I saw was enticing...and surprisingly familiar.

Tarsila do Amaral. Carnaval em Madureira, 1924

Not familiar in terms of having seen those particular paintings previously--even as print or electronic reproductions--or other work by the same artists.

But stylistically.

Especially in terms of work dating from the 1880s to 1960s--roughly the delineation of "Modern Art" as I know it--there seemed to be high quality paintings rather analogous to many I well-knew and liked, but by Brazilian artists I never even knew existed.

Academically, this shouldn't be so shocking, as talented artists everywhere have long followed what was being created in Paris and later New York, and often even relocated there. (The Art Institute's exhibit on Tarsila do Amaral, "the first major museum exhibition in North America devoted to the artist, focuses on her work in the 1920s, when she traveled between São Paulo and Paris.")

But I recall that I was walking through the MNBA in Rio, it almost felt as if I'd entered a parallel universe, seeing paintings that could have fit into the fine Abstract Expressionist collection of the Milwaukee Art Museum, or hung near those by Mark Rothko in dozens of museums, or rivaled many fairly recognizable practitioners who followed in the wake of Monet, Manet, Picasso, Matisse, O'Keeffe, Rivera and Hopper--and yet were by Brazilian artists presumably unknown even to devoted art lovers in the United States.

Tarsila do Amaral. Workers, 1933

So with apologies for publicizing it in my small little corner of the world with just one day remaining, the Art Institute's Tarsila do Amaral exhibit--it will run at New York's Museum of Modern Art from Feb. 11-June 3--makes for a good excuse to now share images of "modern" Brazilian art seen in Rio back in 2014.

All of the paintings shown thus far in this post--click on any to see it larger--are of works in the AIC/MOMA exhibit.

Those from here on out--including another by Tarsila--are those I saw at the Museu Nacional de Belas Artes.

I do not mean this to be a comprehensive survey in the realms of modern art of Brazil, the MNBA collection or even what I saw of it. These are largely just some paintings I liked and photographed (permissibly). I didn't photograph all the placards, and regretfully in some cases am not able to provide the artist's name, painting title and/or year of creation.

Candido Portinari (1903-61), Our Lady of Mount Carmel, 1944

Belmiro de Almeida (1858-1935), Tiffs, 1887

José Ferraz de Almeida Júnior. The Model's Rest, 1882

Georgina de Albuquerque. Summer Day, circa 1928

Painter/Title unknown by author

Tarsila do Amaral. Self-Portrait, 1923

Alberto Guinard, Léa and Maura, 1940

João Fahrion, Interior with Figures, 1939

Seemingly signed by "Juima" or "Tuima" in 1950; other details unknown by author

Jose Borges da Costa, Beaten Harlequin, 1947

Artist, subject, title, date unknown by author

Firmino Saldanha, Composition

Loio-Persio, Composition No. 22, circa 1959

Emiliano di Cavalcanti, Slave Ship, 1961

Rubens Gerchman, La Television, 1967

Mediums, Well: Art Institute's Gauguin Exhibit Aptly Illustrates the Diverse Explorations of an Ever-Restless Artist -- Art Review

Art Exhibition Review

Gauguin: Artist as Alchemist
Art Institute of Chicago
Thru September 10
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How does one fairly assess an art exhibit?

Without pretending I have the wherewithal to offer a scholarly critique, my reviews of museum exhibitions--as with almost any other type of show, including live performances--aim to address whether attending is worth one's time, money and effort...and to what degree.

Regarding the Art Institute of Chicago's latest survey of a famous artist, the answer for me personally is a definitive, "Yes, very much so."

In fact, after feeling a bit rushed the first time I saw the exhibit, I decided to Gauguin.

That translates to "Go again" for those who lack punderstanding or aren't aware that the 19th century French painter--but not only, as the exhibit well-showcases--Paul Gauguin's surname is pronounced roughly "Go-gan."

But such an answer may be much easier and more decisive on an individual level than a universal one.

Paul Gauguin, Interior of the Painter's House, rue Carcel, 1881

I live an hourlong transit commute from the Art Institute, am happy to get there a good handful of times each year, will almost always see--and typically enjoy--their large-scale exhibitions about artists I know in idioms I like, am pretty familiar with the museum's outstanding permanent collection and freely attend each visit as part of a yearly membership. (Standard admission is up to $25, with an additional $7 for the Gauguin: Artist as Alchemist exhibit for non-members.)

Having visited over 150 major art museums worldwide, often as a focal point of my travels and occasionally up to four in a day, I'm well aware that the merits of seeing a special exhibit can vary by contexts.

In terms of the Gauguin exhibit--which features a relatively limited number of "Oh, wow!" paintings as it depicts the artist's fertile creative reach across sculpture, ceramics, wood carving, printmaking, etc.--this would be my advice for various potential audiences:

Paul Gauguin and Emile Bernard, Earthly Paradise, 1888

- If you are an Art Institute member,  Gauguin: Artist as Alchemist is by all means well-worth getting to.

- If you knowingly like Gauguin's painting style and/or appreciate artistic processes in an academic sense, the exhibit justifies the extra $7, a special trip to the museum or up to 2 hours of a longer Art Institute visit. (For ways to avoid General Admission, see the Free Admission Opportunities section on this page, as well as Bank of America's Museums on Us promotion.)

- If you visit the Art Institute as a tourist--particularly one with limited time to allot--unless the above applies to you I think you'd be better off focusing on the permanent collection, which still includes some Gauguin paintings as good as many in the exhibit.

- Unless you're a Gauguinologist, the exhibit in itself likely doesn't merit plane travel.

The exhibit is excellent in terms of being a well-curated, thoroughly-researched, scholarly exploration of a well-known post-Impressionist most famed for painting subjects in Tahiti, but who worked impressively many in mediums and venues. (It was interesting to note that when Gauguin went to Tahiti in the later years of his career, he was vexed to find it so colonialized and frequently painted people to look far more "native" than he actually encountered them.)

Even in a relatively casual walk through the numerous galleries, one should appreciate how Gauguin incorporated recurring subjects and themes across different idioms, locales and/or eras, such as seated women (as shown nearby), a motif he initially portrayed during his time in the Brittany region of France..

Simply at face value, much of Gauguin's non-painting work is quite beautiful, such as the Earthly Paradise cabinet shown above, which he carved and painted in conjunction with his contemporary Emile Bernard.

I'll include more pictures of various types of pieces below to provide a better sense of what you'll see in Artist as Alchemist, which per its introduction, "delves deeply into the artist's radical experiments in the applied arts."

I relished the illumination provided--twice--but in keeping with my general affinities, most embraced and best recall the large, colorful paintings, of which there are about 15. (Simply in this regard, there are nice insights about how Gauguin deviated from many of the Impressionists, even those who influenced him.)

If your abiding interest in art, as essentially is mine, is simply to see "pretty pictures," you'll certainly get that in this exhibit, but not really predominantly. Nor to the extent of mind-blowing wonder the Art Institute's astonishing Impressionism collection provides, along with fantastic holdings in many realms.

I don't think anyone who opts to view Gauguin: Artist as Alchemist--especially if understanding the multidisciplinary focus--should come away disappointed, but whether it's "worth seeing" can largely depend on one's own tastes, time, priorities and budget.

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