American Masters of Sculpture: Being Brief Appreciations of Some American Sculptors and of Some Phases of Sculpture in AmericaCaffin, Charles H. (Charles Henry)
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American Masters of Sculpture: Being Brief Appreciations of Some American Sculptors and of Some Phases of Sculpture in America
Caffin, Charles H. (Charles Henry)
Sculptors -- United States
important productions, were the Dickens Memorial and a statue of General
Hancock at Gettysburg.
These two, Grafly and Elwell, are the only American sculptors within my
knowledge who have been drawn toward symbolic mysticism; for the
mysticism that appears in Barnard’s work, and must have been present in
the colossal “Spirit” by John Donoghue, a work known to me only by
report, is of a grander, deeper character, growing out of and
penetrating the form itself. This statue of Donoghue’s, a seated, winged
figure thirty feet high, represented the Spirit, the “Thou” of Milton’s
apostrophe, who
“from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like, satst brooding on the vast abyss,
And madst it pregnant.”
Described as a work of great impressiveness, with suggestion of
sublimity, benignity and mysterious power, it was executed in the
artist’s studio on the Roman Campagna and sent to this country for
exhibition at the Chicago World’s Fair. But for some reason it never
reached its destination, and was allowed to crumble away in the
warehouse of a Brooklyn wharf. Other works of his also--“Sophocles,”
“Diana,” “Venus”--for lack of appreciation lie in storage.
Working fitfully and with painful hindrances from insufficient facility
in the handling of his medium, Theodore Bauer has produced some works
full of imagination. Nature gave him the gifts of music and of dreaming;
and, nursing these, he slipped on into middle life, without ceasing to
be a child. The grit of manhood, the practicality of the world and the
need of responding to it in kind, are outside his comprehension. He
lives within himself in a world of his own: a world of rosy lights and
purple shadows; soft, Æolian breezes, whose wailing arouses a rapture of
mild despair; distant mountains, whose inaccessible snows prompt sweet
imaginings of purity and high endeavour, while he meditates in his
valley of unlaborious delight and delicious, pleasurable pain. A world
of reverie, darkened, however, at times by storm-clouds and disturbed by
the deep moan of thunder along the distant heights.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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