From The Art and Popular Culture Encyclopedia

"WHAT is art? We do not know. The essential nature of that mysterious, intangible, indefinable something that we call art baffles us." --Gardner's Art Through the Ages (1926) by Helen Gardner "BAROQUE is an excellent example of the necessity for looking at the culture that is responsible for a style of art and the reasons for the character of that culture. The coming of the seventeenth century marked the decline of the Renaissance in Italy, as the sixteenth marked its maturity and the fifteenth its youth. Hence one expects to find complexity and contradiction, technical virtuosity, and theatrical realism. A secular life centered in display found its needed stimulation in a grandiloquence that surprised and overwhelmed the senses. A complacent, decadent Church, threatened with disintegration by the progress of the Reformation in northern Europe, aroused itself into reform through the Counter-Reformation, and saw in the pomp and circumstance of the rising baroque style a type of expression that could overawe with splendor. This trend was confirmed by the Jesuits, recently established in Spain, whose influence was powerful not only in missionary endeavor but also in holding adherents loyal in the face of powerful heresies. Hence the motivation of both secular and religious interests was to feed strained emotionalism with grandiloquent brilliance. One is not surprised to find Italian opera developing rapidly, and the aria, with much florid embroidery, the vogue of the day; or the rise of the viol family among instruments, culminating at Cremona in the creations of the Stradivarius family."--Gardner's Art Through the Ages (1926) by Helen Gardner "In a general way, most of the modern painters belong to one of two main lines of descent, with many border-line cases: Seurat-Cezanne-Picasso-the cubists; Van Gogh-Gauguin-Matisse-the fauves-the expressionists. These families are composed of intensely individual members, though they represent two fairly coherent, contrasting points of view— which may be illustrated roughly, one by Matisse and the fauves and the other by Picasso and the cubists."--Gardner's Art Through the Ages (1926) by Helen Gardner "With the growth of communities, social organization, and trade and industry, monumental stone structures appear. Dolmens (dol, table, and men, stone), tombs or monuments to the dead, consisted of several stones set on end with a covering slab, hence the name. Single megaliths, menhirs (men, stone, hir, long), at times seventy feet high, were set up on end individually, or were arranged in long rows, as at Carnac in Brittany. Their purpose, though not clear, may have had to do with a cult of the dead or the worship of the sun. Sometimes they were arranged in a circle known as a cromlech, the most imposing of which is Stonehenge. [...] Such a structure is not properly speaking architecture. But it is the nearest approach to it that we find in western Europe until Roman times." --Gardner's Art Through the Ages (1926) by Helen Gardner

Gardner's Art Through the Ages (1926) is an American textbook on the history of art written by Helen Gardner (1878–1946).

Attention is given to the high arts and the decorative arts.

Contents 1 See also 2 Full text[1] 2.1 Front matter 2.2 CONTENTS 2.3 PREFACE 2.4 INTRODUCTION: THE FORMS OF ART 2.4.1 The Nature of Art 2.4.2 The Nature of Form 2.4.3 Form in the Visual Arts 2.4.4 BIBLIOGRAPHY 2.5 ANCIENT ART 2.5.1 WORLD PANORAMA 2.5.2 PALEOLITHIC ART 2.5.3 MESOLITHIC AND NEOLITHIC ART 2.5.4 EGYPTIAN ART 2.5.5 ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 2.5.6 AEGEAN ART 2.5.7 GREEK ART 2.5.8 ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART 2.5.9 HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST 2.5.10 CHINESE ART 2.5.11 JAPANESE ART 2.5.12 MIDDLE AMERICAN ART 2.5.13 SOUTH AMERICAN ART 2.6 MEDIEVAL ART 2.6.1 EARLY CHRISTIAN AND BYZANTINE ART 2.6.2 ARCHITECTURE 2.6.3 PAINTING 2.6.4 STONE-CARVING AND IVORY-CARVING 2.6.5 ENAMELS AND TEXTILES 2.6.6 SUMMARY 2.6.7 BIBLIOGRAPHY 2.6.8 RUSSIAN ART 2.6.9 MUHAMMADAN ART 2.6.10 PERSIAN ART 2.6.11 ROMANESQUE ART 2.6.12 GOTHIC ART 2.6.13 HINDU ART: BRAHMANICAL AND MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 2.6.14 CHINESE ART 2.6.15 JAPANESE ART 2.6.16 PRIMITIVE ART 2.6.17 MIDDLE AMERICAN ART 2.6.18 SOUTH AMERICAN INCA ART 2.6.19 NORTH AMERICAN ART 2.7 RENAISSANCE ART 2.7.1 RENAISSANCE ART IN ITALY 2.7.2 BAROQUE ART 2.7.3 FLEMISH ART 2.7.4 GERMAN ART 2.7.5 SPANISH ART 2.7.6 DUTCH ART 2.7.7 ENGLISH ART 2.7.8 FRENCH ART 2.7.9 RUSSIAN ART 2.7.10 LATIN AMERICAN ART 2.7.11 FRENCH AMERICAN 2.7.12 ENGLISH AMERICAN 2.7.13 INDIAN ART 2.8 MODERN ART 2.8.1 NINETEENTH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE 2.8.2 NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING 2.8.2.1 English Painting 2.8.2.2 French Painting 2.8.2.3 Painting in the United States 2.8.2.4 Latin American Painting and Folk Arts 2.8.3 TWENTIETH-CENTURY 2.8.4 TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE 2.8.5 TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING 2.8.5.1 European Painting 2.8.5.2 Painting in the United States 2.8.5.3 Canadian Painting 2.8.5.4 Mexican Painting 2.8.6 TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE 2.8.7 THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE 2.9 General Bibliography 2.10 Glossary of Technical Terms 2.11 INDEX

See also

• Art history books

Full text[1]

Front matter

ART

THROUGH THE AGES

THIRD EDITION

NEW YORK

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1926, 1936, 1948, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.

All rights reserved, No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by mimeograph or any other means, without per- mission in writing from the publisher.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION: THE FORMS OF ART

The Nature of Art The Nature of Form The Elements of Form Form in the Visual Arts

PART ONE: ANCIENT ART

Prehistoric Art

1 PALEOLITHIC ART (earliest times to about 20,000 b.c.)

2 MESOLITHIC AND NEOLITHIC ART (about 20,000-2000 b.g.)

Near Eastern Art

3 EGYPTIAN ART

Early Egypt and the Old Kingdom (about 4500-2475 B.c.)

The Middle Kingdom and the Empire (2160-1090 b.g.)

4 ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY AND PERSIA Sumerian Art (about 4000-1925 B.c.)

Assyrian Art (about 1000-612 B.c.)

Chaldean or Neo-Babylonian Art (612-539 B * a )

Achaemenian Persian Art (539-331 b.g.)

Mediterranean Art

5 AEGEAN ART (about 3000-1 100 b.c.) 104

6 GREEK ART 118

Geometric, Archaic, and Fifth-Century Art (about 1 100-400 b.c.) 118

Fourth-Century and Hellenistic Art (400 b.c. to the first century b.c.) 156

7 ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART (about 1000 b.c.-a.d. 500) 168

liH

I \ / p ar Eastern Art

8 HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST

(about 3300 B.C. to A.D. 600)

9 CHINESE ART (about 3000 b.c. to a.d. 907)

10 JAPANESE ART (a.d. 552-900)

American Art

11 MIDDLE AMERICAN ART Mayan Art of the First Empire Toltec Art (about a.d. 500-1000)

1 2 SOUTH AMERICAN ART

Early Chimu and Nazca Art (first century b.c. to a.d. 600) Tiahuanaco Art (a.d. 600-900)

PART TWO: MEDIEVAL ART

European and Near Eastern Art

13 EARLY CHRISTIAN AND BYZANTINE ART

14 RUSSIAN ART (tenth to eighteenth century a.d.)

15 MUHAMMADAN ART (a.d. 622 to date)

16 PERSIAN ART

Sassanian Persian Art (a.d. 226-641)

Muhammadan Persian Art (a.d. 641-1736)

17 ROMANESQUE ART (about a.d. 500-1 1 50)

18 GOTHIC ART (about a.d. 1150-1550) Far Eastern Art

19 HINDU ART: BRAHMANICAL AND MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 362

20 CHINESE ART (a.d. 960 to date) 378

21 JAPANESE ART (a.d. 900 to date) 387

African and Oceanian Art

22 PRIMITIVE ART African Negro Art Oceanian Art

American Art

23

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

4°9

Mayan Art: The Second Empire

4°9

Zapotec and Mixtec Art

4 I 3

Toltec and Aztec Art

4 i 5

24

SOUTH AMERICAN INCA ART

418

25

NORTH AMERICAN ART

421

Pueblo Art

421

Hopewell Art

424

PART THREE : RENAISSANCE ART

Renaissance Art in Italy

26 ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE (about 1300-1600)

27 PAINTING *

Sienese and Florentine Painting Northern Italian Painting

28 METALWORK, CERAMICS, TEXTILES, AND BOOKS

29 BAROQUE ART (seventeenth century)

Renaissance Art in Northern , Western > and Eastern Europe

go FLEMISH ART (fourteenth to seventeenth century)

3 1 GERMAN ART (fourteenth to sixteenth century)

32 SPANISH ART (fifteenth to nineteenth century)

33 DUTCH ART (sixteenth to seventeenth century)

34 ENGLISH ART (sixteenth to nineteenth century)

35 FRENCH ART (fifteenth to nineteenth century)

36 RUSSIAN ART (sixteenth to nineteenth century)

Renaissance Art in the Americas

LATIN AMERICAN ART

617

Mexican

618

South American

621

North American

632

38

FRENCH AMERICAN ART

638

39

ENGLISH AMERICAN ART

642

40

INDIAN ART

651

Northwest Coast Indian Art

651

The Plains Indian Art

656

Navaho Art

657

CONTENTS

viii

PART FOUR: MODERN ART

Nineteenth-Century Art

41 NINETEENTH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

42 NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

English Painting

French Painting

Painting in the United States

Latin American Painting and Folk Arts

Twentieth-Century Art

43 TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

44 TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING European Painting

Painting In the United States Canadian Painting Mexican Painting

South American and Caribbean Painting

45 TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE

46 THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE

Appendix

GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY GLOSSARY OF TECHNICAL TERMS INDEX WITH PRONUNCIATION

PREFACE

BECAUSE today and only today, the concept of one total world in- escapably thrusts itself forward, I have been motivated, in preparing this third edition of Art Through the Ages, both in the incorporation of new material and in the reorganization of the old, by a desire to present a world panorama of art; to look at the world horizontally; to present a view of Ancient, Medieval, Renaissance, and Modern Art, each as a whole the world over; to show where contacts did or did not exist, and how the world of the relatively isolated cultures of antiquity has gradually become one world, with national barriers so breached that we are now talking of international styles in art.

History of art thus viewed does not organize with neat precision into the four chronological cross sections mentioned above. All cultures are not at the same stage of evolution at the same time; some are long-lived, while others are short; some are in the archaic stage, while others are at a climax. Yet whatever their relative state of evolution, the contacts which they make are highly important. Even though every scheme of organization contains inconsistencies and disadvantages, the panorama becomes particularly valu- able at a time when the world has shrunk to its present size; it helps to break down our Europocentric attitude toward art, to reorient our thinking, and to enlarge our horizons.

The Introduction I have enlarged along the same lines as in the second edi- tion, that is, I have isolated the problem of form, as a necessary preliminary for any discussion of the arts, historical or critical.

Part One presents a panorama of the arts in ancient times and shows how great cultures arose and evolved on all the continents, largely in isolation yet with some vital contacts that affected the forms of art expression.

Part Two continues the panorama through the Middle Ages when the con- tacts between Asia, Northern Africa, and Europe became more pronounced and a lively intercourse brought about mutual exchanges of ideas, motifs, and forms.

Part Three shows the Renaissance as the period when the world began to shrink at an ever accelerating rate. This was the age of discovery, explora- tion, and colonization. It witnessed the transplanting of European arts to large sections of the world, most important of which was the hitherto un- known western hemisphere, where the conflict or assimilation of European arts with the indigenous American arts transformed them into American- European styles.

PREFACE

Part Four reveals the world, through unbelievable advances in transporta- tion and communication, as one world in which the nations are becoming acquainted with each other, are learning from each other, and are to a con- siderable extent producing works of art which, despite national divergencies, come within an international framework.

After years of experience and experimentation in teaching history of art in the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, I am still of the opinion that the most effective presentation of the large amount of material involved is the chronological survey. In the first place, each culture takes its position in historical sequence. In the second place, the influences of one culture on another within an era can be clearly discerned. In the third place, the in- fluence of earlier periods on later ones can be seen; for example, the influ- ences which classical art exerted on the Renaissance and post-Renaissance periods, or the influences of the ancient Far East, of Egypt, and of the primi- tive peoples on modern art. Finally, each culture is analyzed for the charac- teristic art forms which give substance to its own individual essence in a manner known as its style.

I hardly need mention that in covering so wide a field in one volume, it has been necessary both to limit the material to the visual arts and to stress the significant movements. In general the objective has been to focus atten- tion upon works of art as art and to omit biographical and anecdotal matter, not because such material has no legitimate place, for it is frequently illu- minating, but because it is secondary and can be found easily in almost any library. Controversial questions of attribution and influence have been omitted as belonging properly to specialized books. The space thus gained has been used for analysis of the few works discussed, in the conviction that thorough study of a few works is more helpful than the recital of names and dates.

An indispensable part of the study of art is the illustration. Few works, therefore, are discussed for which there is no illustration for reference. The new system of numbering the illustrations according to the numbers of the pages on which they occur is expected to facilitate greatly ease of reference.

The bibliographies have been compiled with a well-equipped but not spe- cialized art library in mind. Hence, rare and costly books have usually been omitted, and among the works in foreign languages only a few which are particularly desirable for their illustrations have been included.

The writing of so comprehensive a book as well as the assembling and sifting of so large a mass of details make necessary the advice and coopera- tion of many individuals. Such cooperation has been given cordially and gen- erously on the part of individuals, museums, and publishers. For criticism on the manuscript of the first edition the author was indebted to Professors T. G. Allen, J. H. Breasted, W. E. Clark, Edith Rickert, Walter Sargent, and E. H. Wilkins of the University of Chicago; to Professor Grant Shower- man of the University of Wisconsin; and to Mr. R. B. Harshe and Mr. G. F. Kelley of the Art Institute of Chicago; for criticism of the second edition to Miss Kathleen Blackshear of the Art Institute of Chicago, Mr. James C.

PREFACE xl

Boudreau of Pratt Institute, Professor B. M. Donaldson of the University of Michigan, and Professor F. J. Roos, Jr. of the University of Illinois; for criticism of the third edition to Mr. C. F. Kelley of the Art Institute of Chicago, Professors G. G. Cameron and K. C. Seele of the University of Chicago, Professor Ralph Fanning of Ohio State University, and Professor James C. Boudreau of Pratt Institute.

The task of securing illustrations was largely the work of Harold Allen. This task was lightened appreciably by the generous assistance of individuals, libraries, museums, and publishers, acknowledgment of which is made with each cut. Especial help on the illustrations as well as in details of research was generously given by Miss Etheldred Abbot, Librarian Emeritus, and Miss Ruth E. Schoneman, Librarian, and their assistants of the Reference and Photograph Departments of the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries of the Art Institute of Chicago.

For the new analytical drawings of paintings and sculpture the author is indebted to Miss Kathleen Blackshear, Michaill Waskowsky, and Harold Allen; for other new drawings and maps to Harold Allen; for bibliographical research to Miss Edith Prior of the Ryerson Library and Harold Allen; for proof to Miss Kathleen Blackshear and Harold Allen.

H. G.

Publishers' Note

The text of Art Through the Ages: Third Edition was in galley proof at the time of Miss Gardner’s death. Thus the text in this edition, including the foregoing preface, is as Miss Gardner wrote it. Fortunately, her close co- workers, Miss Kathleen Blackshear and Harold Allen, were in a position to carry on and see the work through the press.

INTRODUCTION: THE FORMS OF ART

The Nature of Art

WHAT is art? We do not know. The essential nature of that mysterious, intangible, indefinable something that we call art baffles us. On the other hand, we do know definitely that from the earliest times until today hu- man beings the world over have given expression to human experience in con- crete tangible forms which we call works of art. And we know that art is essential to man’s well-being. Take away the finest of our buildings, our pottery, pic- tures, music, poetry, drama, and the dance. What kind of life would result?

Thus works of art exist and always have existed, and have been essential to man’s well-being. They are human ex- periences translated into forms that we apprehend through our senses. We see pictures and dances; we see and hear literature; we hear music; we feel the surfaces of a carving or a jar, and the texture of a piece of satin or velvet. But that is not all. Our sensory im- pressions and our perceptions lead to emotional reactions, and intelligence enters to rationalize. Sensation, emo- tion, and intelligence all enter into the process of understanding.

How, then, shall we go about under- standing? There can be no cut-and- dried formula. The very complexity of the art object requires many ap- proaches, no one of which has priority. Some people approach a painting from one angle, some from another, each ac-

cording to his temperament and habit of mind. All that matters is that a per- son shall eventually approach it from all angles, so that his understanding of it can be full and intelligent.

Hence in approaching a work of art, it is well to keep in mind its chief facets: that it is a form created by some artist; that it has a cultural or time context; a content or subject matter; and usually a function or use.

Let us examine these a little more closely. Every work of art is a form, a living structure possessed of an organic oneness that sets it apart from other ob- jects and marks it as a work of art. Who created this form? It was some artist. That is, a work of art is the objectifica- tion of a human experience. The artist is one who “selects and rearranges de- tails from life experience into concrete form.” (Thomas Munro) Thus his cre- ative activity is synthetic — that is, it consists of selecting parts and welding them into an integrated whole. The intangible quality of this oneness — - that is, whether it has an inner vitality or not — determines whether the artist has succeeded; “only that which is utterly intangible matters.” (D. H. Lawrence) A work of art may be above adverse criticism technically and at the same time be devoid of life. That statement is aptly illustrated by the Chinese saying that to paint a tiger successfully, the artist must have within himself the potentiality to be one.

The observer, the critic, on the other hand, approaches the work of art from

2

INTRODUCTION

the opposite direction, the analytical. He sees the completed work of art, the integrated form, and in trying to under- stand it he attempts to see how the art- ist put the parts together to attain the observable results. While it is impossible for one person to relive another’s ex- perience, the intelligent critic comes as close to that experience as is humanly possible, and by training he is able to feel the quality of its inner intangible essence.

A work of art, then, is a form created by the artist out of human experience. At the same time it has a cultural con- text. It exists in time, and its form re- flects the forces of that time — social, economic, political, and religious. From this angle the form reveals a style— -a mode of the time of its creation, a mode that colors all works of art of the time so that together they express the essence of the time. Buildings, paintings, sculpture, pottery, literature, music, drama — all the arts reflect the mode of their age. Each elucidates the others. A mode or style, however, like time, is never static. It evolves, attains its maturity, and declines. So a work of art may conform to the prevailing style; it may revert to a previous style; or it may be revolutionary in that it looks forward, experiments, and embodies new elements which foretell the ap- proach of a new style.

Again, works of art have content. Even such objects as masks, pottery, and textile designs that are abstract or geometric and seem merely decorative may actually contain profound human meaning. This content bears a direct relation to the time of their creation. It was not by accident that Renaissance painters painted Madonnas, that mod- ern painters produce still life, ab- stract, or nonobjective paintings, and that the Chinese developed the land- scape scroll. It was not by accident that the design on early Chinese bronzes

and on some American Indian pottery relates to clouds and rain, or that Mayan carvings so frequently repeat the motif of the plumed serpent and the jaguar.

Another approach to a work of art is to consider its function or purpose. Probably a large majority of works of art were created to serve a definite pur- pose in a definite place. This statement hardly seems valid to one walking through a museum. A museum, how- ever, is at best an artificial, though necessary, storehouse of objects taken away from their original place and time; but when each object is traced back to its origin, the reasons for its creation and for its form become clearer. Paintings and statues belonged to cer- tain buildings, and rugs to certain palaces; Indian jars were made to hold water carried to the top of the mesa, and the tall slender Chinese vase was used to pour the wine at the rites of ancestor worship. The function of buildings we usually take for granted. But equally functional are many pic- tures, statues, and textiles, as well as much pottery and metalwork.

The Nature of Form

O F these essential approaches to a work of art, we shall isolate for discussion the first - — that of form and the ability to see form. “Form” has many meanings. Here — in fact all through this book — it is used in its widest sense: that of a total organic structure, a synthesis of all the elements of which that structure is constructed, and the manner in which these elements are related and united to create its distinctive character. “Organic,” ac- cording to Webster, means “Possessed of a complete structure comparable to that of a human being; forming a

THE FORMS OF ART

totality, in which the relation of the parts involves relation to the whole.” “Structure,” according to the same authority, means “Something con- structed or built; the arrangement of the parts ... in a substance or body.” This is the meaning of the broadly in- clusive term “form.” The Chinese have a saying that we see with our ears. “Chesterton once observed shrewdly,” says J. B. Priestley, “that there was a great difference between an eager man who wanted to read a book and a tired man who wanted a book to read.” Reading a book, listening to music, or seeing a picture requires concentrated activity of both the emotions and the intelligence. Listen to a piece of music. You hear a succession of sounds, at times harmonious, at times discordant, which may produce a certain mood, somber or gay. But so far you have penetrated the music’s minimum sig- nificance only. It is so little in relation to what is there. You may be too in- capable, or perhaps too lazy, to pene- trate farther. If, on the other hand, you listen attentively enough to catch a melody, perhaps just a few bars, to hear it again in another key and again in its original form; or if you have noticed a second melody with which the first interweaves, and if you have dis- covered that the quality of each varies according to the instrument on which it is played — if you have heard all this and realize that these interweavings, repetitions, and variations cohere into a pattern of rhythmic movement, then you are on your way to understanding music.

So with a piece of literature. A writer uses words; he combines them into phrases, phrases into sentences, and sentences into paragraphs or verses; and by repetition, variation, and move- ment toward a climax he creates a pattern which not only conveys the content but, because of its inherent

capacity to arouse emotional response, vivifies the content, gives it a dynamic quality that is not inherent in the mere meaning of the words and the sentences. Thus music is not a mere succession of sounds, nor literature one of words alone, but a related and integrated suc- cession.

Try looking at a picture. If you see it only for its subject matter, as an illus- tration or as a historical document, or for its associational ideas or its general mood, then you have not grasped its maximum significance. Look again. Your curiosity might ask why it creates a certain mood, a certain reaction in you. Now you may see that a cer- tain color — blue for example — domi- nates; that it appears in a large area and is repeated in several small areas; that it is now light in tone, now darker. You also notice areas of yellow; and you observe that the blues and the yellows seem to play over against each other, and that each seems to enhance the brilliance of the other. Or you may notice a brightly lighted area, perhaps triangular in shape, and your eye moves from one part of the picture to another under the guidance of repeated triangu- lar areas. Each color and each light area appears and reappears in repetition and variation, like the themes in music, so related and interwoven that together they form the same kind of coherent whole that a musical composition does. Watch an artist who begins his picture by organizing his canvas into color areas with no visible representational content. Then see how a light area be- comes a house; a blue spot, a figure; and a dark-green mass, trees. But the basic color organization remains to vivify the content, to give it a life not secured by a mere imitation of nature. That is the difference between art and nature.

In these three arts — and it is equally true in all the arts — we find a basic

INTRODUCTION

4

structure that not only conveys and vitalizes the content, but of itself de- lights the eye or the ear. And if one is to understand art, he must be able to see this structure, to see it with the art- ist’s vision . 1 “In truth I have painted by opening my eyes day and night on the perceptible world, and also by closing them from time to time that I might better see the vision blossom and sub- mit itself to orderly arrangement.” 2

The Elements of Form

W HEN an artist creates a work of art, he gives substance to his concept in tangible visible material. For this purpose the world offers him in- numerable possibilities. His choice, however, is not left to chance. Each material has its own potentialities and limitations, and it is part of the artist’s creative activity to determine whether a certain material is suitable for the ex- pression of his concept and whether he has technical proficiency in handling this material. The character of the material, and the processes and tools with which it is worked, are vital de- terminants in the character of the form: the way in which hammer and chisel slowly carve a figure from unyielding stone, or the fingers swiftly build a form from yielding clay. Nor are materials interchangeable. A theme suitable for

1 From this point, because of lack of space, we shall discuss visual form only. But we sug- gest that the reader apply the method outlined to the arts of music, literature, drama, and the dance.

2 A statement by Rouault quoted by Monroe Wheeler in Painters and Sculptors of Modem America, Thomas Y. Crowell, 1942, p. viii. On he artist’s vision see Roger Fry, Vision and Design, “The Artist’s Vision”; Leo Stein, The A-B-C of /. Esthetics , “Pictorial Seeing” and “To Make Pictures by Seeing Them”; Thomas Munro, Scientific Method in Aesthetics, ‘ ‘The An alysis of Form”; Ralph Pearson, Experiencing Pictures.

pigment could hardly be successful if carried out in stone. To see materials as a contributing element in the total form is a prime prerequisite for under- standing.

Other elements or components that artists use to create forms and which one must train one’s eye to see are line, light and dark, color, texture, areas, mass and volume, space and movement (Fig. 5A) . If an artist is working in two dimensions — - width and height — and observing surface continuity, as in painting or tiles or textiles, he will chiefly use line, light and dark color, texture, and areas. Except as an illusion, actual depth does not occur. If he is working in three dimensions * — width, height, and depth ~~ as in building, sculpture, pottery, or basketry, he works basically with mass, volume, and space in addition to the elements of two- dimensional art. The fourth dimension — movement in space — so fundamen- tal in music, literature, the drama, and the dance, is only suggested in the visual arts, though it may actually exist in sculpture.

These components provide the artist with his means for creating forms which have coherence, unity with variety, balance, and emphasis. Each element, however, has an inherent character with its own potentialities and limita- tions; and the artist chooses for his use according to the nature of the project in hand, his own individuality, and the controlling forces of his environment.

LINE

This is an elastic term. A line may be an edge, a meeting of areas. In a building, the edge where planes or sur- faces meet is, for practical esthetic pur- poses, a line. Line may be a contour, in which case it delineates an object. It may be sculptural; that is, of such a quality that it suggests mass. Or it may

THE FORMS OF ART

be calligraphic, an element of enrich- ment of surface (Fig. 488A) 1 ; if it is, though it may serve also as an edge or a contour, its main emphasis is upon itself for its own sake, for movement or pattern. The character of line is de- pendent partly upon the implement with which it is made (brush, burin, chalk, silver-point) and partly upon the personality and the skill of the artist. It may be broad or thin, sharp or blurred, firm or wavering, tight or loose, delicate or bold, energetic or weak (Figs. 737A, 748A, 749A).

Whatever its function and character, line suggests movement in some direc- tion: vertical, horizontal, diagonal, or curved, each of which produces a cer- tain emotional reaction. We all know the uplift of the vertical (Fig. 71 3A), the tranquillity of the horizontal (Fig. 71 1 a), the dynamism of the diagonal (Fig. 760A), and the suavity of the curve (Fig. 674A). It is not only the effect of line direction of which the artist makes use, but also the relationships that he sets up among the various lines. They may repeat or parallel one another for a harmonious effect (Fig. 730A), or op- pose one another for needed contrast (Fig. 736A); they may radiate from a certain spot or converge upon it for emphasis (Fig. 407 a) . A diagonal may give the needed verve to a tranquil bal- ance of vertical and horizontal (Fig. 612A); a succession of diagonals con- stituting a zigzag may create a highly dramatic effect (Fig. 423A). Lines may be continuous or broken, and when they are broken one may still feel the continuity of the movement even though the actual line is invisible. It is seldom that only one kind of line is used in a design. More likely two or more interplay, with varying degrees of harmony and contrast, like themes in a musical composition.

1 The arabic number of a figure is that of the page on which it occurs.

6

INTRODUCTION

LIGHT AND DARK

These, known as “values” or by the Italian word chiaroscuro (light-dark), range from white to black, with an in- finite number of gradations between. Light may be the result of natural il- lumination, as in architecture and sculpture, where projections catch the light and depressions hold shadows, which shift according to the time of day and the weather. Artificial illumination or controlled lighting is an element of the highest importance to the sculptor and the photographer as an organizing element. The painter or the lithog- rapher may reproduce natural or arti- ficial lighting, and at the same time use it as a point of emphasis or in relation to other light areas as a means of securing movement through his picture. Values, like lines, produce an emotional effect. A diffused light with gradual transitions from light to dark evokes a tranquil or mysterious mood (Fig. 687A) ; con- trasted values suggest restlessness (Fig. 512A); highly concentrated or strongly contrasted values with abrupt transi- tions engender a dramatic mood (Fig. 566A). Again, as with the use of all the elements, what matters is the relation- ships of the areas, and the interplay of light and dark motifs.

COLOR

Color is probably the most emotive of the elements. It is both a scientific ele- ment and an element of organization. Scientifically, a color is a wave of light perceived by means of the sensation which it arouses in the eye. A ray of light consists of waves of different lengths and degrees of vibration. Send a ray of light through a prism and it breaks up into its parts and produces the spectrum. When light strikes a sur- face, that surface may reflect all the waves, or colors, equally, and the eye

registers a white surface. It may absorb all the waves except the green, which it reflects. Then the eye sees that surface as green. It may absorb all the rays ex- cept the blue and the red. The surface is then violet. Individuals vary widely in their sensory reaction to light, from hypersensitivity, which at times causes violent reactions, all the way to com- plete lack of sensation. A person may be blind to one color alone, or he may be totally blind to all colors and conse- quently see the world in terms of white, black, and the intermediate grays. Thus the nature of light and the sense of sight are both involved in the science of color.

As an element for the artist’s use, a knowledge — intuitive, if not scientific — of the spectrum, its composition, and the interrelationship of its components is essential. It is convenient to arrange the colors of the spectrum in a wheel ‘(Fig. 7A). Of these colors, three are in- divisible and so are known as the pri- maries: blue, red, and yellow. If the primaries are mixed, they produce the secondaries or binaries: blue plus yel- low equals green; red plus yellow, orange; red plus blue, violet. Further mixture makes possible an infinite num- ber of colors, depending upon the pro- portion of each component.

Notice on the color wheel that red is opposite green, and orange opposite blue. Opposites are called comple- ments. If they are mixed, they soften each other; if mixed in equal propor- tions, they produce a gray, a neutral which can be vibrating and elusive, as a gray compounded of black and white is not. If complementaries are juxta- posed, each intensifies the other and produces brilliance and sharp contrast. On the other hand, colors near each other on the wheel, called adjacents, (blue, blue-green, and green, for ex- ample) produce a harmonious effect. However, it is not only the relation- ships of the colors that concern the

7

THE FORMS OF ART

artist. Each color has three qualities: hue, value, and intensity. Hue is the name of the color: blue, red, blue- green, orange-red. Value is the amount of light in a hue according to a scale range varying from white to black: light greens, middle greens, dark greens. Intensity, also called chroma or satura- tion, is the color strength or brilliance: a brilliant yellow or a dull yellow.

Another attribute of color which con- cerns the artist is its warmth or coolness. Orange and its adjacents are warm; blue and its adjacents are cool; green is warm as it approaches yellow and cool as it approaches blue. Furthermore, colors appear to advance or retreat according as they are warm or cool. Red lettering on a poster looks as if it were in relief; the blue around Ce- zanne’s apples draws the eye back into space and gives the apple depth and solidity. Thus color in itself has the capacity to express depth — a capacity that is now being used in interior archi- tecture to increase spaciousness and height; for example, by the use of a re- treating color on walls and ceiling.

An additional attribute is the psychic effect of colors. We recall the cheer of yellow, if not too intense; the quieting effect of blue, the excitingness of red. Thus a dominant color alone can set the emotional quality, the mood, of a work of art.

But, as with line and with light and dark, what matters most is the rela- tionships among the colors. A design composed of adjacents will have a tran- quil harmonious effect; it may, in fact, seem weak unless a certain quality of the complementary hues contributes enough contrast to give the design virility. On the other hand, a design composed of complementaries fre- quently needs some areas of adjacents to soften the tension which results from the use of complementaries alone. Thus most color schemes present major and

minor themes, which interplay, like major and minor themes of volumes, lines, and lights and darks. The color scheme which an artist selects depends upon the idea to be expressed. For a tranquil theme he is not likely to use a dynamic color contrast, nor for a dra- matic subject, a quiet color harmony.

TEXTURE

Every material has a texture, or structural quality, that determines the character of its surface, which is appre- hended by our sense of touch. It may be hard or soft, rough or smooth, warm or cold, grained or pebbly. But the eye too seems to share in apprehending these qualities. A fabric looks, as well as feels, rough or smooth. A rough sur- face creates light and shadow; a smooth surface means the absence of shadow and often the presence of reflected light, as in satin. Color also varies according to the texture of the surface upon which it falls. Compare three pieces of cloth of exactly the same hue: a satin, a vel- vet, and a wool. The hue will vary both in quality and in value because the different textures have different degrees of reflective power. Thus we have a

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INTRODUCTION

[a] Geometric Solids and Buildings Based upon Them. a. cube. b. pyramid, c. cylinder. d. sphere, e. cone.

visual equivalent of the tactile sensa- tion, and with it an enlargement of the potentiality of line and color. A painter or an engraver may use lines or motifs to create a textural effect whose pur- pose is to enrich the surface (Figs. 211A and b) or to carry movement. Another way in which texture is used is in such imitations of actual textures as are found in some realistic paintings. Such illu- sionistic reproduction of texture often serves the same esthetic functions as the nonnaturalistic textures just mentioned. Again, the important factor is the re- lationships of the areas. The builder, the sculptor, the potter, the painter, in fact all artists, make effective use of texture in playing off contrasting smooth and rough surfaces (Fig. 71 8a). In interior architecture texture is a highly essen- tial element where several materials are combined for their textural effects as well as for their functions.

AREA, MASS, AND VOLUME

These we associate primarily with geometry. Areas are two-dimensional and in shape are most often square, circular, elliptical, triangular, or amoe- boid. At times the shapes are precise, at

times only suggestive. By means of line, light and dark, and color, the artist creates areas which serve as thematic material. For example, he may base his design upon the interplay of triangles, or of triangles and amoeboid areas. Mass, with its weight and solidity, exists in space. Volume is mass given definite shape, which may be solid or hollow. Volumes are rectangular, spherical, cylindrical, conoid, or pyramidal, and serve as thematic material for the three- dimensional arts. A building, for ex- ample, may consist basically of a group of rectangular volumes (Fig. 96 a), or a piece of pottery, of a combination of cylinders and a sphere (Fig. 241 a). In using volumes the architect is dealing with actual space — not with the illu- sion of space found in painting — so that space itself becomes a primary or- ganizing element. It may be interior space created by the surfaces of the volume; or it may be external space — that is, how the volume is related to surrounding space, as a building to its environment. It may be the space de- termined by a rectangular block of stone or by a cylindrical block of wood, each of which will affect differently the sculp- tor’s organization of a sculptural figure.

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9

[a] Architectural Construction, a. Lintel {Fig. u8a ); b. Corbeling [Fig. iioa); c. Round. Arch (Fig. 174D); d. Cantilever {Fig. 7054); e. Dome on Pendentives (Fig. 261 a); f. Dome on Squinches (Fig. sqoa); g. Concrete (Fig. 714A ); h. Steel (Fig. 7 12 a) .

Form in the Visual Arts

ARCHITECTURAL FORM

A building is a mass existing in space.

This mass consists of one or more volumes which, being hollow, create in- terior space, a Space for human activity. With the rarest exceptions, no building exists for its own sake. On the contrary, the human activity for which it was constructed is not only its reason for being, but a determinant of its plan and form. If, for example, it is to house large crowds — a temple, a transportation terminal, a factory — it will provide large unbroken spaces for these pur- poses. If it is to be a house, or a building filled with small business offices, it will divide the interior space into many small units.

Another determinant is its material, which prescribes the mode of its con- struction. Building materials are vari- ous: stone, brick, adobe, tile, wood,

glass, steel, concrete, plywood, plastics, to mention only the most important. Each of these has its own inherent qualities of strength, durability, elas- ticity, size, color, and texture.

A further determinant of architec- tural form is the site. It makes a great difference whether a building stands in a crowded city or in the open country; whether on flat land or in the hills; whether in a warm climate or a cool one.

Given the function, the material, and the site, how is a building constructed? Its creation begins with a plan, evolved from function, material, and site, and is the result of two activities: mechanical and esthetic. The mechanical activity is engineering, and its function is to give the structure stability by controlling and balancing the physical forces of weight, pressure, and resistance. From this mechanical angle, there are four kinds of construction: lintel, arch, con- crete, and steel (Fig. 9A).

In the lintel system courses are laid

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INTRODUCTION

horizontally, leaving openings for doors and windows which are covered by horizontal blocks known as lintels. As the size of the opening is limited by the size of the material — small in stone, larger in timber — and as the super- incumbent load is limited to the carry- ing capacity of the lintel, this system is generally found in buildings of modest proportions. The arch system, on the other hand, is more flexible, as it can utilize small material and make build- ing possible on a vast scale. The arch system consists of spanning an opening by means of wedge-shaped pieces of stone called voussoirs, built on a wooden supporting framework until the central wedge, the keystone, is set. The great advantage of the arch system is that the load or thrust of the superstructure does not bear down vertically only, but out- ward also, so that a much greater load can be carried than in the lintel sys- tem, provided the outward thrust is sufficiently balanced by buttressing.

In concrete construction a hollow framework is built, into which concrete in a semiliquid state is poured. When this has hardened, the framework is removed and the result is a solid, homo- geneous structure of great strength and durability.

Steel construction means erecting a framework of steel beams; this, because of the tensile strength of the material, is sufficient to hold floors, partitions, and roof, and thus has no need of supporting walls, but only of a protective sheathing. Steel is generally used with reinforced concrete - — concrete into which steel or iron bars have been imbedded in order to make strong foundations. An important extension of steel construc- tion is the cantilever — • a horizontal beam supported at one end only, yet sufficient in strength to support floors and walls. This method eliminates a multiplicity of supporting members which not only obstruct the view but

also mar the unity of the building with the external space.

Yet adequate construction alone, essential though it is, does not produce a fine building. Quality in architecture depends in no small degree upon how the artist deals with the volumes and spaces which engineering makes possible. How has he proportioned and related the volumes and the spaces? Propor- tion and relationships constitute the dominant note — breath-taking and ex- alting where the accent is upon vertical- ity, as in the RCA Building (Fig. 713A) and the Amiens Nave (Fig. 345 a); relax- ing when the stress is on the horizontal, as in the Robie House (Fig. 706 a) or Byo- doin ; tranquil and majestic where a cube and hemisphere combination, as in Santa Sophia (Fig. 259A) . The surfaces of these volumes, however, are not un- broken. For practical purposes a build- ing must have doors and windows; and as light envelops a building and pene- trates its interior, the light and shadow created by these openings play an im- portant role in breaking up surfaces into effective designs. Are these open- ings — collectively known as fenestra- tion —statically regular, or dynamically varied with arresting accents? Are they vertical or horizontal in pro- portion, and do they contain thematic material for repetition, such as a curve or a pointed arch? Is there any sculp- ture on the building to produce move- ment by its broken light and shade, and to inject additional line direction, such as the curve or the diagonal, into an otherwise rectilinear composition? Be- sides line direction, and light and dark, the color and the texture of the ma- terials contribute to the ensemble. A certain unity and solidity may result from the use of one material alone, and vivifying contrasts may result from such combinations as stone and brick, wood and stucco, marble and bronze, or steel, glass, and concrete.

THE FORMS OF ART

XI

SCULPTURAL FORM

Sculpture, like architecture, is an art of volume and space; but, unlike architecture, it aims at arrangements of volumes in space to be seen externally only, like the exterior of a building. In this respect a building may be sculp- tural. Most statues, on the other hand, notably those of stone or wood, are solid. Genetically, they are masses of material organized. Their organization, however, is subject to the space occu- pied by the original mass. A sculptor confronted by a block of stone or a piece of timber may retain much of the mass, and his statue will then be solid and weighty; or he may lighten the mass by taking away a considerable amount of material, even to the point of perforating the mass and thus se- curing more movement through space. The bronze-worker, on the other hand, starting with no mass at all, constructs a mass out of clay, and in the process creates both the space and the volumes organized within it.

All sculpture, whether of the stone or the clay type, is an art of mass, vol- ume, contour, and surface treatment. It is likewise an art that gains in power in proportion to its simplification, clar- ity, and monumentality. But in contrast to architecture, it is usually represen- tational, and strikingly limited to the human and animal figure, which afford the sculptor possibilities for complex arrangements.

The complexity of sculptural form admits many approaches. Its general forms, its materials and the processes of working them, its function, and its site are some of the more important. In general, sculpture falls into three classes: in the round, relief, and in- taglio. “In tire round’ 5 means a three- dimensional figure which you can walk around and see from numerous angles. Relief is sculpture in which the figures

or shapes are attached to a background from which they project. It is called high relief if they project boldly; low relief, or bas-relief, if they project slightly. The third, and less common, class is intaglio, in which the figures are sunk into the background.

Depending upon materials and proc- esses, sculpture can be carved out of hard material, or it can be modeled in soft material and then fired, glazed, or cast in metal. As for function, a vast mass of sculpture has been created as a coherent part of a building, often of the same material— -a fact that is de- terminant of its form. Again, much sculpture consists of isolated statues, though probably the majority of statues and reliefs have been made for some specific site — this again, whether out- side or inside, was a vital element in the total form. These classifications and approaches should not be taken too rigidly, for they tend to impede a com- prehensive grasp.

Let us look at sculpture in the round from various viewpoints • — first, carving and its materials. Stone is and always has been universal. It is a hard, weighty, unyielding material, and though break- able has strength and durability. It comes in many shapes of various pro- portions, which limit the final form. Its texture is variable: fine, coarse, crystalline, striated. The tools with which stone is worked suit an obdurate medium: a wooden mallet, different steel chisels and drills, and abrasives for smoothing and polishing. Carving stone is a slow, laborious process that taxes physical strength as well as judgment. A false step may ruin a work. The character of both the material and the process inevitably influences the sculp- tor toward simplification of mass and elimination of detail. Carving is a process of subtraction. “I mean by sculpture,” said Michelangelo, “that which is done by taking off. . . . The

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INTRODUCTION

finest artist has no concept which the marble alone does not contain within itself.”

To penetrate the block, and to ex- tricate the figure as it were, the sculp- tor draws an outline on the block and with a point cuts away large chunks of stone. He thus lays bare the main masses of the figure. Then, with chisels and drills, he defines the form more in detail; and finally he may smooth or even polish it, or certain parts of it only. Frequently he leaves the chisel marks on some of the surfaces, to se- cure contrast of texture. In carving a figure the sculptor may work in from the sides as if he were carving a relief on each side of the block. By this pro- cedure he creates a figure definitely rectangular in form, quiet, static, and monumental in effect (Fig. 13A). Or, disregarding the surfaces of the block, he may compose a figure whose parts move backward and forward or spirally through the mass of the material, and which create movement in space and a dynamic or restless effect (Fig. 13B).

Wood-carving corresponds to stone- carving, except that the material is softer and has a grain, which the carver must follow if he is to avoid splitting the wood, and which he can utilize effec- tively in his design. His chisels are sharper, though lighter, than those used in stone-carving. Because of the cylin- drical nature of wood, many wood carvings are basically cylindrical in form (Fig. 778 b).

Modeling, in distinction from the subtractive process of carving, is a process of addition, a building-up tech- nique. Clay, the usual material, is one of the most yielding mediums, is re- sponsive to a light touch, lends itself to improvisation, and invites fantasy as the fingers — the chief tool — are stim- ulated by its pliability. If the figure is of any considerable size, it must be built up on an armature. Otherwise the

soft material would collapse. A certain amount of subtractive activity is pos- sible when a sculptor, starting with a mass of clay, scoops out hollows and builds up projections, in this way pro- ducing movement inward and outward through the mass. Often one feels, if one does not actually see, traces of fin- ger marks indicative of the process by which the artist attained a certain effect and without which he could not have attained this effect — an illustration of the significance of the technical process in the total expression.

The sculptor in clay is confronted with the problem of how to make the soft clay permanent. If the figure is small, he can hollow it out enough for firing, like pottery. If it is too large for this process, he can cast it in plaster or metal, of which bronze is the most common. An almost universal method is the cire-perdue , or wax-lost, process, in which a core of clay or some crude material approximates the ultimate form. Over this a coating of wax is laid, in which the sculptor completes the form with all its details. The Wax is then covered with a coat of fine pipe clay of the consistency of cream, laid on with a brush very carefully so as to reproduce, when hardened, every mi- nute detail of the wax. Successive coats are added, and then layers of coarse plaster until a thick firm shell is formed. Vent holes are left so that the wax can be drawn off when the mass is heated. Thus a thin space is left between the core and the pipe-clay mold, into which molten bronze is poured — a process requiring expert skill, for the metal must run into every tiny detail of the mold. When the metal has cooled and hardened, the shell is broken away, the core is dug out, the surface is finished and polished, and sometimes details are added by chasing. Bronze is a rigid, tough material which enables the artist to compose open designs not practicable

THE FORMS OF ART

13

[b] Michelangelo , Moses. Marble. Height c. 100 in. 1513-16. Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome. The analysis illustrates an organization of backward and forward spiraling movements confined but not dom- inated by the planes of the original block.

[a] Khafre. Diorite. Life-sized. IV Dy- nasty (2300-2750 b.c.). Cairo Museum, (Metropolitan Museum ). The analysis il- lustrates the relation of the main planes of the figure to the planes of the original block of stone.

INTRODUCTION

14

in stone. Its somber color produces strong contours, and strong contrasts of light and dark result from its re- flective quality. It requires sharp edges in its details if they are to carry.

In creating a sculptural figure in any material, the artist is not imitating natural appearance, though nature is his starting-point. He is extracting from the figure certain arrangements of its parts — its head, torso, arms, and legs — -using sometimes only one or two of these parts, sometimes all. Like the architect, he is dealing first with re- lated volumes, chiefly cylindrical or spherical. In establishing relationships he makes use of light and dark, and line. Hollows hold shadow, like win- dows in a building; projections catch the light, and their alternation creates movement. If the surfaces are treated simply with but slight nuances, they accentuate the volume. If they are treated with naturalistic detail which results in a rapid shift of light and dark, they tend to accentuate the surface at the expense of the volume. Line, we may argue, does not exist on a round- ing surface. Yet as we walk around a statue we notice that to the eye it ap- pears to have contours, and that these contours change as we shift our posi- tion, so that there is a definitely linear quality which guides the movement of the masses. Another aspect of linear quality appears in an uplifted or out- stretched arm, for example, in that it introduces into the design, as in archi- tecture, the emotional effect of line direction.

Another element of sculptural or- ganization is texture. In all sculpture the character of the surface of the material contributes to the effect: rough granular granite, translucent striated alabaster, grained wood, rough irregu- lar clay, reflecting bronze. An infinite number of effects are inherent in the nature of the material and in the man-

ner in which the surfaces are treated. En- livening contrasts result from a combi- nation of surface treatments, such as the juxtaposition of rough and smooth areas.

Thus sculpture is an organic struc- ture — not however, as an end in it- self, but to convey some aspect of life experience. Michelangelo’s statement, “Life seems to move within the stone,” has perhaps a more profound meaning than is at first apparent. For great sculpture, far from trying to imitate visual perception, impregnates mate- rial with vitality, with a living quality which no words can define but which is emotionally appealing. It may be the living quality of representation which is heightened and vivified by the quality of the organic structure.

In relief, the third dimension of sculp- ture in the round is suggested, but not actual. Starting with the plane, or sur- face, of the material, the sculptor’s problem is to cut away enough of the mass to leave the figures projecting in such a way that they give an illusion of depth. Having drawn his design on the stone, the carver begins cutting into the material, sometimes sharply at right angles, leaving clean-cut edges; some- times with a rounding-off of the edges which softens the contours; or perhaps undercutting considerably to secure deeper shadow. The depressions made by the subtraction of material tend to hold shadow; the remaining projections catch the light. Thus line, and light and shade, are important organizing ele- ments in relief. Movement tends to be lateral and the planes, which indicate depth, to be parallel.

Intaglio is the opposite of relief. It is what one might call negative relief, in that the design is cut into the ground so that it appears in dark against the orig- inal surface of the stone. Sumerian cyl- inder seals (Fig. 8 7 a) and Egyptian mural reliefs (Fig. 68a) are examples of this kind of carving.

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15

[a] Building a Ceramic Piece by the Coil Method . From the flat base the sides are built up of successive, ropelike coils of clay , which are then joined by the fingers. ( Harold Allen)

[b] Throwing a Clay Piece on the Potter's Wheel. As the wheel turns the lump of wedged clay is centered , hollowed , and shaped by pressure of the hands. ( Harold Alien )

CERAMIC FORM

Pottery (ceramics), exclusive of tiles, is akin to sculpture in the round in that it is an art of three dimensions, and to sculpture in clay in that it consists of a building-up process in the same plastic material. Being a nonrepresentational art (except for ceramic sculpture), it is close to architecture as an almost purely geometric* art. Ceramic sculpture is a border-line art between ceramics and sculpture, for it uses the materials and the processes of the one, and partakes of the representational character of the other.

Pottery is clay shaped and hardened by heat. It is one of the oldest and most universal of the arts because of its utili- tarian character: that of a container. Much pottery is utilitarian only, but much of it has also an esthetic quality so high that it sometimes constitutes one of the major art expressions of a culture — as with the Chinese, the Iranians, and the American Indians.

According to the character of the clay and the degree of firing, pottery is earthenware, porcelain, or stoneware. Earthenware, the most common, has a relatively coarse base, and is fired at low heat. Being porous, it requires treatment to render it impervious. Sometimes porosity is an advantage, as when evaporation is desired for cooling purposes. Porcelain is made of a fine clay, kaolin, to which feldspathic rock is added. Fired at a high temperature, it becomes vitreous throughout and thus is impermeable. Porcelain can be shaped thin enough to be translucent, and when struck it produces a musical tone. Stoneware is of the same nature as porcelain, but of a coarser texture, partially vitrified, and with relatively thick walls.

Whatever the character of the base, a general four-step process is applicable to all: the preparation of the clay, the shaping, the decorating, and the firing. First the potter washes and wedges the clay to give it a smooth texture and to

1 6

INTRODUCTION

free it of air particles, after which he adds any other ingredient, such as the feldspar in porcelain. He is then ready to shape it. Several methods are pos- sible. If the piece is small, he may shape it with his fingers; or he may build the walls of ropelike coils of clay (Fig. 15A), which he can smooth with his fingers or some implement, or leave unsmoothed. Another method is to throw the clay on a wheel, shaping it with the hands as the mass revolves (Fig. 1 5B) . Still another method is to press or pour the clay into a mold — the process suitable for mass production. One needs to remember, however, that the original piece from which the mold is made was built up by hand-shaping, coiling, or throwing. The third step is drying to a leather-hard condition - — hard enough to handle without injur- ing the shape - — and decorating, usu- ally with glaze. Polishing produces a texture which has a decorative quality of its own.

Glazing is one of the most universal methods for securing color, other deco- rative effects, and imperviousness. Glaze is melted glass, which may be transparent or opaque, glossy or mat; and it may be colored by the addition of metallic oxide. The glaze can be poured over the surface of the vessel, painted or sprayed on; or if the vessel is small, it can be dipped into the glaze. If the base is coarse, it is sometimes necessary to cover it with slip (clay thinned to a fluid consistency), to fur- nish a base for a transparent glaze. Painting is another common method of decoration. The design may be painted on the slip and covered with the trans- parent glaze; or it may be painted over a glaze or done by the wax-painting process. In the latter method the de- sign is painted in wax, and the object is then entirely covered with pigment and heated. As the wax melts off it leaves the parts it covered in the orig-

inal white against the color. Other decorative methods consist of relief, incising, stamping, or sgraffito — that is, covering the vessel with two coatings of slip or glaze of different colors and then, by cutting a design through the outer coat, producing a two-color pattern.

The final step in pottery-making is the firing. Sometimes an extra firing is necessary at the decorative stage; often only one firing is sufficient. Much of the world’s finest pottery has been fired out of doors by primitive methods which entailed great skill in controlling the heat. Today most firing is a matter of mechanical control. A further means of decoration added after firing is lus- ter - — a thin, transparent, metallic film, which requires another firing at low temperature, and which produces an evanescent, iridescent effect.

Ceramic form must take into con- sideration three factors; first, the vol- umes of which it is composed; second, the materials and the manner of their use; and third, the function. The na- ture of the ceramic process — coiling or throwing — predicates a form based upon sphere, egg, cylinder, or cone; and such additions as handles, covers, or spouts are subordinate to the basic shape (Fig. 17A). The majority of vessels are based not upon one shape, but on a com- bination of two or more shapes (Fig. 17B); and the quality of any ceramic product is a matter of the proportions of these basic shapes and the interrela- tions of part to part — of the neck to the body, for example, or of the lip to the body and the base. Contour, as in sculpture, and color and texture also, whether uniform or in contrasting areas, are important elements in stressing the relationships of parts.

The use of materials is a source of pleasure in the enjoyment of pottery: evidence of fingers and tools shaping yielding clay, and leaving contrasting

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17

[a] Basic Geometric Volumes Most Suit- able to the Ceramic Processes: cylinder, ovoid, sphere, cone. (, Harold Allen)

rough and smooth surfaces; the flow of glaze over the surface, frequently stop- ping before reaching the base; or coils left unsmoothed to provide a decorative element.

Pure form alone frequently is the sole source of our pleasure in pottery. In the majority of cases, however, function and the relation of function to forms — as in a building — is a determinant of quality. In general, the function of pottery is to transport, store, prepare, and serve food and drink. Thus a storage jar must have a large opening; a water bottle needs a long neck to facilitate the flow of the liquid; a shallow bowl or plate is suitable for serving, and a vessel with a handle and a spout for pouring. Size and weight also are related to function. A Chinese ceremonial tea bowl of porcelain should be small and of eggshell thinness to be satisfactory, whereas a storage jar for grain needs large size and thick walls to hold the heavy weight and to withstand rough usage. Vessels intended to hold liquids must acquire imperviousness, and this quality, which usually implies the use of glaze, has a direct effect upon the texture and color of the ceramic piece.

[b] Combinations of the Basic Geometric Volumes in Ceramic Design. (. Harold Allen)

PICTORIAL FORM: Painting

In contrast to architecture, sculpture in the round, and pottery — which em- ploy the third dimension — painting is constructed as a flat surface with no actual depth. Though it frequently ex- presses depth and space, it does so only through illusion. A painting always re- mains one continuous surface. The ma- terials of the painter are this surface and pigment. The surface may be al- most any material, though plaster or stone, wood, canvas, paper, and silk are the most common. Pigment is color- ing matter secured from earth, mineral, and vegetable matter; or it can be made synthetically. Ground into a pow- der, it is mixed with some vehicle to reduce it to a liquid or pliant state suitable for use with brush, palette knife, finger, or spray. According to the kind of surface and vehicle, most paint- ing falls into four classes: fresco, tem- pera, oil, and water color. Encaustic, casein, and duco paintings are also met not infrequently. Each of these mediums, with its individual brush strokes, texture, and quality of color, produces an effect peculiar to itself, so that the medium and the process by

i8

INTRODUCTION

which it is worked constitute a vital element in the construction, and also in the understanding, of a picture.

Fresco is painting on damp plaster with water color. This becomes chemi- cally incorporated with the surface, and thus a part of its actual texture. The wall requires special preparation, usu- ally several coats of plaster, before the final thin coat, about one to two inches thick, is laid on. A preliminary drawing, known as a cartoon, is worked up in de- tail and is then transferred to the moist surface. The colors which a fresco painter can use are limited to those not affected by the lime in the plaster — chiefly the earth colors. The technique requires clear thinking and unfaltering workmanship, for once the color is laid on, it cannot be altered except by changes or additions made after the painting is dry. Alteration of this sort, called “dry” painting, is subject to the danger of subsequent peeling. Fresco is the most architectural of the painting techniques. Far from being an enlarged easel picture, it is subject to severe archi- tectural requirements. It is part of an interior space and hence controlled by location in the building, by scale, and by the fact that it must be seen — at both long and short range — from many angles. All this requires simpli- fication and clarity of composition carried out in bold brush strokes (Figs. 1 89 a and b, 473A-477A, 757A-761A).

Tempera is painting on an especially prepared wooden panel in pigment mixed with egg. The panel is first covered with linen, on which are laid layers of gesso (plaster of paris) which are smoothed and polished to an ivory- like finish. On this surface the painter draws his design in detail; he then puts on an underpainting, usually of green for the figures and red for any areas to be covered with gold; finally he adds the local colors in pigments mixed with egg yolk. As this pigment dries

quickly, he works with small brushes in fine strokes, a painstaking technique. The result is a smooth hard surface with luminous depth and a linear decorative quality (Fig. 484A).

Oil as a vehicle for pigment is slow in drying and allows the painter to use broader, looser strokes than tem- pera and to make subtler transitions from light to dark. Some painters have begun with a tempera panel as a base (tempera-oil; Fig. 536A) . The majority have used a canvas surface, which they cover with a ground as in tempera (in- direct oil; Fig. 5 1 oa); or they brush the pigment directly on the canvas (direct oil; Fig. 727A). A painter may use his pigment thin or thick and rely both on the canvas and on the pigment for his textures. The various oil techniques make possible a freer expression, richer color and atmospheric effects, greater solidity, and more complex spatial or- ganization. Direct oil is peculiarly adaptable, like clay in the hands of the sculptor, to spontaneous expression and improvisation.

Water color is painting on paper or silk with pigment mixed with water and some binding medium, such as gum. There are several kinds of water- color painting, of which transparent, gouache, and Chinese-ink are perhaps the most important. Transparent water color is a most evanescent medium, adaptable for spontaneous expression. The pigment is applied in thin washes, and areas of the paper — Usually white or of a light tint — are left to provide the lightest areas, a method which pro- duces a luminous or sparkling effect. The character or grain of the paper also plays no little part in the general effect.

Gouache is water color rendered opaque by the addition of some filler, such as zinc white. It has more body than the transparent water color and lends itself to richer color effects and to meticulous detail, as in Persian mini-

THR T?rU5A/TC i~\ T7

d e f

[a] Some Spatial Arrangements Possible in Painting, a. Flat plane with no depth (Fig. i 50 a); b. Depth in three parallel planes (Fig. 489 a); c. Planes receding at an angle to the picture plane (Fig. 52JA); d. Planes receding on a curved diagonal (Fig. 499A ); e. Intersecting S-curve planes (Fig. 51 3 a); f. Complex backward and forward movement of planes (Fig. 761 a).

atures. The painters of these miniatures prepared the paper by rubbing it with a crystal egg until it was smooth and glossy — a process reminiscent of tem- pera painting. Interesting effects can be obtained by a combination of the transparent and the gouache methods.

Chinese ink is a medium peculiar to the Far East. The water-color materials are Chinese ink and sized silk or paper (that made of bamboo pulp is pref- erable) sized or unsized. Chinese ink is not the ink with which we are familiar, but a solid made of carbon and glue and molded into a cake. If a particular kind of texture is desired, other ingredients are added — - pulverized oyster shells, for example, to obtain a dead finish. The Cake of ink is rubbed in water on a slab to secure a semifluid — a process requiring great skill. It is then applied to silk or paper with a brush. Like fresco, when once applied Chinese ink admits no alteration. Hence the artist must be very sure of what he wants to do and of his technical ability to do

it. Extraordinarily various effects can be secured in this medium, from bold richly black strokes, through varied tones, to a hairline of the utmost del- icacy (Fig, 380A).

The medium and the process by which it is used, it is clear, are vital elements in making a picture. Some painters limit themselves to perfecting one technique alone, some use several. Tradition, training, and the whole cultural background may determine which process a painter shall use. This is illustrated by the almost universal use of fresco and tempera in fifteenth- century Florence; of Chinese ink in Sung China; of gouache in medieval Persia; and of indirect oil in recent times, as well as of a whole galaxy of revivals and experimentations today.

Whatever the vehicle for his pigment, whatever the surface on which he works, and whatever his subject matter, the painter composes his material — that is, he builds an organic structure — out of line, color, light and dark, and

20

INTRODUCTION

texture. Some compose in a two-di- mensional style; that is, with lines and areas of color, with light and dark, and with texture. Thus they retain the two- dimensional character of the surface. Others organize in spots of color with blurred edges and with gradual transi- tions, the emphasis being upon rela- tionships in space. This space may be shallow, with movement largely lateral, as in relief, and with the receding planes parallel to the plane of the original sur- face. Or it may be deep space with planes receding at an angle to the orig- inal surface, with movement backward and forward, often complex and inter- locking (Fig. 543A).

Thus painting is potentially one of the richest of the arts, in that it offers the artist the broadest scope in the use of elements. He may use them all if he chooses, and with infinite variety, even though his use of volume, space, and movement is illusory only, not actual. To see how he builds an organic struc- ture out of certain materials by means of certain elements and how he relates the structure to the subject matter is fundamental to understanding painting.

PICTORIAL FORM:

Drawings and Prints

In no one of the pictorial arts is the Chinese conception of expression so true as in drawing. Expression, accord- ing to the Chinese “is the result of the action of the mind traveling unhesi- tatingly through the brush.” (Tomita) So direct and spontaneous is the connec- tion between the concept in the artist’s mind and his hand that a drawing re- veals more of his personality than a so- called finished work. The fact that so many drawings are made as prelimi- nary sketches and not meant for exhibi- tion makes them even more revealing.

A drawing can be made on any sur- face, though paper is most frequently

used. The medium varies, just as in painting, and each medium has its own capacities and limitations. Pencils, crayons of various kinds, and pen- and-ink are perhaps the most usual; silver-point, though rare, has a unique character. Pencils (graphite) are of varying degrees of hardness or softness and for this reason are versatile; they are adaptable for modeling the figure or for meticulous detail. Charcoal (carbon), a soft material which perishes with wear, lends itself to broad, bold, general effects. Red crayon, also soft, has the advantage of color. These two mediums are often used for drawings by sculp- tors, to express mass and volume. Pen- and-ink is also versatile, partly because of the element of color provided by the ink, and partly because of the varying effects due to the material out of which the pens are made: quill, reed, or steel. Quill pens tend to make a soft, often very delicate, line, reed pens, a some- what harder line. Steel pens can create a multitude of effects, from a hard steely line to one of the utmost delicacy and subtlety.

Prints are impressions made from plates, and vary in kind according to the process by which the plate is made. Though the finished print is usually on paper (and the selection of the paper is important), the work of the artist is concentrated chiefly on making the plate — always, however, with the ef- fect of the print in mind. His materials are a plate of metal, or a block of wood, or a slab of stone; tools suitable for each material; paper and ink; and a press or hand tools for printing. The great ad- vantage of prints is that since many impressions can be made from one plate, they lend themselves to mass pro- duction. There are three important ways of making the plate: relief, intaglio, and planography.

The woodcut is the best example of relief. On a block of wood the artist

the forms of art

draws his design and then with knives and gouges cuts the wood away, leaving in relief the lines and surfaces he wishes to have take the ink. The block is then inked and covered with a sheet of moist paper which, subjected to pressure, takes the ink from the parts of the plate it touches — the areas in relief — leaving the untouched parts — the areas cut back — in white. In cutting the wood the carver is restricted, be- cause of the grain, to a simple direct expression in which the lines and areas are strong and bold, and transitions from black to white are abrupt Prints in several colors can be made by cutting a block for each color.

In intaglio, the second important method, the design is sunk into a plate, usually copper. Engraving, etching, and dry point are the chief examples. In engraving, the artist works with a steel graver, the burin, set in a wooden handle. Holding the tool so that its handle rests in the palm of his hand, he pushes it into the plate with enough force to cut the metal; and according to the pressure and the angle at which he holds the tool, he can make his furrow narrow or broad, deep or shallow. In cutting the metal his burin raises ridges of metal, called burr, along the sides of the furrow; this he usually scrapes away so as to make his line clean-cut. The hardness of the metal and its re- sistance to the tool tend to produce a precise, crisp line, somewhat inflexible. Graduations of line can be secured by manipulation of the burin, graduations of tone by hatchings — that is, by en- graving lines across those already en- graved.

, In etching, the copper plate is cov- ered with a protective ground of wax or varnish. In this the design is drawn with an etching needle, or any pointed tool which moves easily and lightly through the ground, exposing the metal below but not cutting into its surface.

The plate is then immersed in an acid which etches, or bites, the exposed parts of the metal, acting in the same capac- ity as the burin in engraving. But the fact that the artist can make his design in a soft material frees him from the restrictions forced on the woodcutter and the engraver by their mediums and thus makes etching the most facile of the graphic arts in its process and the most capable of subtleties of line and tone.

In both engraving and etching the printing process is the same. The ink is thoroughly worked into the engraved or bitten furrows and the surface is cleaned. A sheet of moist paper is passed over the plate, and together the two are put through a press, where the ink is absorbed from the furrows and thus transferred to the paper.

Dry point is a process that lies be- tween etching and engravings It is similar to engraving in that the design is cut upon a metal plate by a steel needle; but it differs from engraving in that the burr is left on the plate. The rough surfaces, holding the ink, pro- duce soft, furry lines, richly black. As the needle cuts but lightly into the plate, it can produce a much more deli- cate and flexible line than the burin in engraving.

The planographic process differs from relief and intaglio in that the printing surface is not cut or bitten, but retains its original surface or plane; a chemical action is utilized to make the plate. Lithography is such a process. On a special kind of stone (hence the name), which has been cut and polished, the design is drawn with a greasy crayon, or with a brush and specially prepared ink. The stone is then given a chemical treatment which does not affect the drawing but which prepares the rest of the surface to take up moisture. This surface is then moistened. An inked roller is now passed over the stone. The

22

INTRODUCTION

moistened surface repels the greasy ink, which only the lines of the drawing re- tain, just as the relief lines retain the ink in the process of printing woodcuts. Then paper is pressed against the inked stone. Linear and tonal values of great range and subtlety characterize litho- graphs, because of the freedom possible in making the original drawing and the nature of the materials used.

TEXTILE FORM

A textile is anything woven. Like pottery, textiles are ancient and uni- versal because of their function — that of a covering. The materials of the weaver are fibers: vegetable (cotton, linen, jute, and hemp) ;' animal (wool, hair, silk) ; mineral (gold, silver, as- bestos),* glass; synthetic (nylon, rayon, celanese). These fibers differ greatly. Linen fibers are long, cotton fibers are short; hemp fibers are coarse and tough; silk fibers are fine and lustrous. The first step in processing fibers is spinning them into threads. Here again they vary in capacity, from those, such as linen and silk, that can be spun into the finest threads through the cottons and wools to the coarsest, such as hemp. Now the fiber is ready for the weaver. His tool is the loom. A loom may be vertical or horizontal, and consists fundamentally of two parallel beams, held firmly apart. On these is strung the warp, through which is interlaced the weft (woof, filling) . This weaving proc- ess involves three fundamental steps: (i) shedding -— raising the warp threads to make a shed, through which (2) the weft is thrown or shot, and (3) batten- ing — beating down the weft threads against the woven fabric. A great variety of weaves results from the man- ner in which the weft is inserted; for example, plain cloth, tapestry, tWill, satin, and damask. Any weave can be enriched with additional weft, as is

found in embroidery, brocades, and pile fabrics.

Textiles are primarily functional, and function determines what fibers shall be used and how. One kind of fiber and process of weaving will be used when a fabric, such as a blanket or a carpet, is to provide warmth or is to have hard usage — to be walked on, for example. Another kind of fiber and another weave will be used to make a light delicate fabric for coolness, or for hanging in soft folds.

Textile form is two-dimensional. In the weaving process, the artist makes and organizes his surface at the same time; and in doing this he uses the or- ganizing elements that are two-dimen- sional: line, areas of color and texture, and light and dark. Texture is one of the most important elements — the actual “feel” of a fabric as well as its visual quality. The smooth lustrous character of satin or linen, for example, appeals equally to the senses of touch and of sight. Even color, as we have seen, is somewhat dependent upon tex- ture, for one hue will have different values in different weaves. Intricate patterns, sensed by both the touch and the eye, can be woven in one color alone; and richly complex designs re- sult from combining several weaves and colors. The artist can also produce patterns by painting or stamping a design upon a piece already woven, a process used largely today in machine- made fabrics.

Batik is a painting process in which the artist draws his design on cloth — usually white cotton cloth — and covers with wax the areas that he wishes to have remain white. He then dips the cloth into a pigment, which the un- painted areas absorb. Then the wax is melted off, leaving the areas it covered white. A similar process has already been noted in the decoration of ce- ramics.

THE FORMS OF ART

FORM IN METALWORK

Metalwork consists of a very large group of objects made of gold, silver, copper, bronze, brass, pewter, iron or steel, aluminum, chromium — to men- tion the more important metals. All metals share, each to a varying degree, hardness, tenacity, and thus durability; elasticity for manipulation; opaque and reflecting surfaces. They also share, in varying degrees, capacities upon which depends their use as materials for the artist: capacities for fusibility, ductil- ity, and malleability. Being fusible, a metal can be molded, and cast. Being ductile, it can be drawn into wires or threads. Being malleable, it can be beaten or hammered into sheets, at times of incredible thinness — gold, for example. These sheets can be beaten into shape over molds; or can be cut into flat patterns and shaped; or can be perforated into patterns. The malle- ability and ductility when heated, es- pecially of iron, give the artist a very plastic material, which he can hammer, weld, turn and twist into innumerable shapes, and thus provide a light, open design, such as a gate or a grille, which affords visibility and at the same time protection because of its strength. For ornamentation, chasing or engraving is perhaps the simplest method; repousse is also common. Repousse consists of beating a sheet of metal into a mold of resistant material in such a way as not to break the metal, and thus leave a pattern in relief on one side and in intaglio on the other (Fig. 1 1 7a). An- other decorative process is damascening — inlaying in a metal base shapes or figures of other metals of different color and texture (Fig. 306A). Another is plating — covering one metal wholly or in part with another metal. Still another is enameling, for the purpose of introducing a wider range of hue and texture.

23

Two important enameling processes are cloisonnd and champleve. In cloi- sonne enamels the design is outlined by soldering strips of thin gold about a thirtieth of an inch wide, called cloisons, to a metal base, usually gold. The cells formed by the cloisons are then filled with enamel, a vitreous com- pound, colored or uncolored, trans- lucent or opaque, which when subjected to heat fuses with the metal base. A second coat of enamel is sometimes added to fill any concavities, frequently covering the cloisons. This must be ground away until the surface becomes perfectly smooth, showing all the cloisons and polished to a glasslike finish — a laborious process, yet one upon which depends much of the rich ef- fect (Fig. 271A). In champlev6 enamels the design is drawn on a metal plate in a fine line and the metal is cut away to a depth of from one-sixteenth to one-thirty-second of an inch, leaving a narrow raised metal ridge to indicate the outline of the design. The de- pressions are usually roughened (to hold the enamel more securely) and then filled with enamel, usually opaque 3 which is fused and polished as in the cloisonne method (Fig. 359A) . In gen- eral, there is more boldness and vigor in the champlev6 process, more deli- cacy and elegance in the cloisonne, for greater facility is possible when work- ing with cloisons than with the more rigid lines left by cutting away the metal field.

Metalwork, because of the nature of the medium, is adaptable both for ir- regular hand-wrought shapes and also for the meticulously precise shapes made by the machine. In both, the visual evidence of the manner of work- ing the raw material is a part of the pleasure derived — the strokes of the hammer in wrought silver, the slight irregularities of the tractable iron, and the machinelike precision of the steel

INTRODUCTION

24

implement. With, its rigid form and hard, precise edges, whether hand- wrought or machine-made, metalwork stands in direct opposition to ceramic objects made of the most pliant of medi- ums and shaped, even on the wheel, by the slightest pressure of hands or fingers. As in ceramics, texture is an important visual element in all metalwork, and frequently a maximum of effect is due to an opposition of a smooth, highly re- flective surface to one worked in re- pousse or chased. In addition, the strong contrasts of light and dark due to this reflective quality, and emphatic lines and edges, are visual elements used by the artist for the expression of proportion and relationships of parts, and of the movement of repeated and contrasted shapes. Color too is an im- portant element, as one can see in a gold object, which, by its power to re- flect, shows many other hues besides the orange-yellow that we ordinarily associate with it.

SUMMARY

If in this Introduction we have isolated and stressed the observation of form as an organic structure, it is be- cause most of us are prone to disregard actual seeing. “We understand and be- lieve what we are told in print, but we see very little directly with our eyes .” 1 Yet seeing form is a sine qua non of understanding. Form may be simple, easily observable, or it may be subtly complex. As Alfred H. Barr says of painting (though his statement is appli- cable to all the arts): “Some of them [pictures] may take a good deal of study, for although we have seen a million pictures in our lives we may never have learned to look at painting as an art. For the art of painting, though it has little to do with words, is

1 W. R. Lethaby, Form in Civilization, Oxford University Press, 1922, p. 17.

like a language which you have to learn to read. Some pictures are easy, like a primer, and some are hard with long words and complex ideas; and some are prose, others are poetry, and oth- ers still are like algebra or geometry. But one thing is easy, there are no foreign languages in painting as there are in speech; there are only local dialects which can be understood in- ternationally, for painting is a kind of visual Esperanto .” 2 Although under- standing involves the use of the artist’s vision, it is well to recall again what was said at the beginning of this Intro- duction: that a work of art is more than an observable form. For form rises out of its environment. Every age has its attitudes and modes of thinking which, together with the contemporary social, economic, political, and religious forces, are factors which determine to a large degree both subject matter and style. Every artist belongs to a social unit. How the members of that unit live and work, how they are governed, how they think, what they believe, and how they give outward expression to that belief — in all this the artist, like every other individual of the group, is rooted; and even though he be a rebel against it, he cannot entirely escape it. Both the content and the form of his expression are largely determined by it. This environment, however, is not static. Every age, in fact every work of art, exists in time, takes its place in a sequence that is always growing, chang- ing, evolving. Furthermore, most works of art were and are created with a definite function to perform, often in a definite location. Hence if we are to grasp the total, the maximum, signifi- cance of a work of art, it is necessary to relate and synthesize all approaches. But we must always realize that in the last analysis it is that intangible, un-

2 Alfred H. Barr, What is Modem Painting? Museum of Modem Art, 1943, p, 3.

THE FORMS OF ART

provable, but felt element of quality as a living force that is the final basis for judgment.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abell, Walter, Representation and Form, Scribner, 1936

Barnes, Albert C., The Art in Painting, 3rd ed.

rev., Harcourt, Brace, 1937 Blossfeldt, Karl, Art Forms in Mature, Weyhe, 1929 Brooklyn Museum, The Art and Technique of Ceramics, Museum, 1937 Casson, Stanley, The Technique of Early Greek Sculpture, Oxford University Press, 1933 Doerner, Max, The Materials of the Artist, trans.

by EugenNeiihaus, Harcourt, Brace, 1934 Durst, Alan L., Wood Carving, Studio, 1938 Focillon, Henri, The Life of Forms in Art, Yale University Press, 1942

Franklin, Christine Ladd, Colour and Colour Theories, Harcourt, Brace, 1929 Fry, Roger Eliot, Vision and Design, Brentano’s, 1924

Gardner, Helen, Understanding the Arts, Harcourt, Brace, 1932

Gill, Eric, Sculpture, Saint Dominic’s Press, Ditchling, Sussex, Eng., 1924 Guillaume, Paul, and Munro, Thomas, Primi- tive Negro Sculpture, Harcourt, Brace, 1926 Hildebrand, Adolf, The Problem of Form in Painting and Sculpture, Stechert, 1945 Hooper, Luther, Hand-Loom Weaving, Pitman, 1920

Kepes, Gyorgy, Language of Vision, Theobald, Chicago, 1944

Kronquist, Emil, and Pelikan, A. G., Simple Metalwork , Studio, 1940

Laurie, A, P., The Painter's Methods and Materials, Lippincott, 1926

Le Corbusier, Charles (pseud, of Charles E. Jeanneret-Gris), Towards a New Architec- ture, Harcourt, Brace, 1927 McMahon, Ames P., The Art of Enjoying Art, McGraw-Hill, 1938

Moreau-Vauthier, Gharles, The Technique of Painting, Putnam, 1912

Munro, Thomas, Scientific Method in Aesthetics, Norton, 1928

Opdyke, George H., Art and Nature Appreciation ^ Macmillan, 1932

Pearson, Ralph M., Experiencing Pictures, Har- court, Brace, 1932

— How to See Modem Pictures, Dial

Press, 1925

Read, Herbert E., The Anatomy of Art, Dodd, Mead, 1932

■ — — Art and Industry, Plarcourt, Brace,

1935

Reath, Nancy A., The Weaves of Hand-Iwom Fabrics, Pennsylvania Museum, Phila- delphia, 1927

Rindge, Agnes M., Sculpture, Plarcourt, Brace,

' " 1929

Robins, William P., Etching Craft, Dodd, Mead, 1923

Sargent, Walter, The Enjoyment and Use of Color, Scribner, 1923

Stein, Leo, The A-B-C of Aesthetics, Liveright, 1 927 Thurston, Carl H. P., The Structure of Art, Uni- versity of Chicago Press, 1 940 Venturi, Lionello, Painting and Painters, Scribner, 1945

Weitenkampf, Frank, How to Appreciate Prints, rev. ed., Scribner, 1932

Wengenroth, Stow, Making a Lithograph, Studio,

1936

Youtz, Philip N., Sounding Stones of Architecture, Norton, 1929

[a] The Acropolis. Athens. This rocky hill stands about 200 feet above the plain. In the background are the slopes of Mt. Hymettus. ( E . L. Highbarger , Evanston, Illinois)

ANCIENT ART

ancient art

WORLD PANORAMA

OUT of an apparently world-wide, prehistoric, Neolithic base arose the great civilizations of ancient times. These we see in the Near East (in Egypt, the valley of the Tigris-Euphrates, and Persia); around the Mediterranean (in Crete, Greece, and westward to the Pillars of Hercules); in the Far East (in India, China, and Japan); and in the Americas (in Middle, South, and North America).

Within each area there were many regional contacts and exchanges of ideas, motifs, and modes of expression. In the Near East and Mediterranean areas, Egyptian motifs and forms appear in the Tigris-Euphrates Valley and in Persia; and among the cultures of this valley and Persia forms were inter- changed in toto. Egypt reached out to Crete and vice versa. Cretan art is basic in Greek art, and motifs from the Tigris-Euphrates Valley appear in Greek ornament. Greek art, in turn, spread both east and west; and the Romans carried the Greco-Roman forms all the way around the Mediter- ranean and northwest into Spain and France. In the Far Eastern area, the independent civilizations which arose in India and China were brought to- gether by the rise and spread of Buddhism, which was later transmitted to Japan. In Middle America, the Maya and the Toltecs exerted mutual influ- ences on each other and on their neighbors; in South America, the coastal Chimu and Nazca and the highland Tiahuanaco compromised their differing art forms.

Over and above these regional interactions were injected those from afar, the most notable of which were those between the Near and the Far East. A direct contact appeared in Sumeria and India; bronze and glazed-tile techniques in China quite clearly derive from Persia; the silk trade flourished between China and the Roman Empire; Hellenic forms spread, in the wake of the conquests of Alexander the Great, into India and influenced Buddhist sculpture; and the nomads of central Eurasia spread the so-called animal style from China to western Europe. In the Americas, habits of mind and visualization, not to mention definite motifs, similar to those of the Far East point at least to a common ancestry in prehistoric times. But because there was relatively little exchange of goods, the assimilation of outside influences played only a minor role in the development of these great civilizations of antiquity. For the most part they evolved indigenously — each dependent on the materials at hand, each expressing its own culture in its own idiom.

PALEOLITHIC ART

(earliest TIMES TO ABOUT 30,000 B.C.)

1 yi THEN in the long development of VY human life did art first appear, and why? What was its character? Was it childishly crude, or was it in any way comparable to those accomplishments which the world has looked upon as its greatest? Did it reveal any grasp of those fundamentals which underlie all great art expression?

Until recently the life story of man was thought to have been brief, perhaps a few thousand years at most. The re- searches of the past half-century, how- ever, have shown that, instead of a few thousand years, vastly remote ages — a million years or more — and an amaz- ingly slow evolution lie behind man of today. This growth we can read only in human remains and in extant objects made by man until we reach the inven- tion of writing, only four or five thou- sand years ago. From that point we are guided by the written document as well.

In 1879 a Spaniard who was inter- ested in the problem of the antiquity of man was exploring a cave on his estate at Altamira in northern Spain, search-

ing for further examples of flint and carved bone, for he had already found such relics in this cavern. With him was his little daughter. Since the cave was dark, he was working by the light of a lamp. The child was scrambling over the rough rocks. Suddenly she called out, “Bulls! Bulls!” pointing to the ceiling, so low that he could touch it with his hand. To satisfy the child, he lifted his lamp and there saw on the uneven surface numbers of bison and other animals naturalistically painted in bright colors. When the discovery was published and the painting de- clared to be the work of men who lived long ages before, people shook their heads. And, for a time, the skeptics had their way. “Impossible,” they said. “The work is too good and the color too fresh; some erratic person of recent years has done this for some unknown purpose.” Slowly, however, the belief began to grow among a few that all these things were revealing ages of far greater antiquity than man had ever dreamed of. Slowly skepticism broke down, and further great discoveries

ANCIENT ART

3o

have yielded enough evidence for us to catch a glimpse of man and his activities in this remote age.

When, then, in this long evolution of human activities did art first appear? And under what phase of art ex- pression?

[a] Flint Fist Hatchet. L. 7^ in. British Museum, London.

[b] Solutrean and Early Magdalenian Flints, a. Laurel-Leaf Point; b. Willow- Leaf Knife; c. Point or Graver.

FLINTS, CARVINGS, ENGRAVINGS

Europe at the time of earliest man 1 offered a physical environment greatly different from that today. Already three glacial epochs had passed, and the warm moist climate of the third inter- glacial age provided man a comfortable habitation. We see him, a hairy, rugged, strong-jawed man, without clothing, possessing a small stone hand ax and fire, living a life of self-defense against the wild elephant, the hippopotamus, the wolf, and the rhinoceros . 2 His pred- ecessors during long millenniums had made two vital discoveries: the control of fire and the use of stone for tools. The former, man had first observed,

1 For the earliest human remains, see G. G. MacGurcly, The Coming of Man, University Society, 1932, Chaps. V-VI.

2 Eight vivid life-sized dioramas of prehis- toric men and their environment are on ex- hibition in the Chicago Natural History Museum. For reproductions and descriptions see the pamphlet Prehistoric Man by Henry Field, Chicago Natural History Museum, Chicago, 1933. See also Henry F. Osborn, Men of the Old Stone Age, 3d ed., Scribner, 1924, for reconstructions of both human and animal types.

perhaps, as lightning cleft a tree and started flames in the dry leaves or as red- hot lava burst from the crater of a vol- cano; the latter, he gradually adopted to replace his wooden implements so that he could protect himself better, obtain his food more easily, and com- bat animals larger than hare and rab- bit. The early stone implements, such as the scraper and the hand ax, or fist hatchet (Fig. 30A), which evolved after ages of experiment in chipping stone, seem purely utilitarian. They are not hafted, but are grasped by the hand for clubbing or for crude cutting. Grad- ually there appears in these tools some- thing more than a capacity for better striking and a sharper cutting edge — a feeling for proportion and symmetry. Here we can recognize that of two flints which cut equally well one is more pleasing than the other because of a quality in the form that has nothing to do with the utility of the tool yet un- mistakably enhances the object to the eye. Such a feeling for form, for a balance between the what and the how , we recognize as a fundamental art im- pulse.

PALEOLITHIC ART

3 *

This sensitivity to form reveals itself increasingly in the late Chellean and the Mousterian ages , 1 the ages of the Neandertal hunter. The climate was becoming cool as the fourth glacial age approached. The animals migrated or adapted themselves to the changing conditions. Now the mammoth and the woolly rhinoceros, the reindeer and the arctic fox, became abundant. Man sought shelter in overhanging cliffs, and while contending with the beasts for cave shelters discovered that fire at the mouth of his cavern protected him not only from marauding animals but

1 By "prehistory” is meant human history before the invention of writing. It includes the Stone Age and in some localities the Bronze and Iron ages, for the discovery or introduction of metals and the invention of writing vary widely in different localities. The following table outlines the main epochs:

A. Eolithic (Dawn of the Stone Age)

X ,000,000-500,000 B.G.

Java and Peking men

B. Paleolithic (Old Stone Age)

500,000-20,000 B.C.

x. Chellean (Chelles, a town near Paris)

Piltdown and Heidelberg men

2. Mousterian (Le Moustier, a site in the Dordogne Valley)

■ Neandertal man

3. Aurignacian (Aurignac, a small village in the French Pyrenees)

Cro-Magnon man (a small cave in the Dor- dogne Valley)

4. Solutrean (Solutrd, a site in east-central France)

5. Magdalenian (La Made- leine, near Les Eyzies in the Dordogne)

C. Mesolithic (Middle or Transi- tional Stone Age) 20,000-12,000

B.C.

Warm , third inter- glacial

Cold ,

^ fourth glacial

D. Neolithic (New or Late Stone Age) 12,000-3000 b.c.

E. Bronze 3000-1000 B.c.

F. Iron 1000 B.C.-A.D.

Temperate

of

today

from the damp cold as well. The increasing variety and quality of his implements — axes, knives, scrapers, points — aided him not only in pro- curing and preparing food but also in skinning and dressing pelts for clothing for himself and, with the appearance of family life, for his family.

In addition to his growing sensitive- ness to the form of his tools is a re- sponse to the quality of his material, evidence for which Dr. MacCurdy finds in tools made from rock crystal and topaz . 2 Color has made its appeal, and our hunter appears to have decked his body and his skin clothing with ornament. Even in the face of an energy-consuming climate, then, latent impulses that are fundamental in the arts were finding expression.

In the meantime a great migration, probably from Asia, brought a new race, the Cro-Magnon , 3 up the Danube, or along the northern coast of Africa into the habitable parts of Europe, for Africa and Europe were still land-con- nected. Though the glaciers were rela- tively small in extent, the climate was extremely cold, yet dry and not so tax- ing as the damp cold of the Mousterian times. Game was abundant and extraor- dinarily varied — -mammoth, reindeer, bison and wild cattle, horse, ibex, bear and rabbit, ducks, geese, and ptarmi- gan. The newcomers were hunters, and lived, like their predecessors, under shelving rocks and in the entrances to caves. They clothed themselves with skins, which they had learned to sew together with bone needles. To the comfort thus secured they added the note of embellishment, as we infer from a necklace (Fig. 32D) made by some

2 See MacCurdy, op. cit., p. 108 and Frontis- piece.

3 The cultures known as Aurignadan, Solu- trean, and Magdalenian belong to the larger unit known as Cro-Magnon, whose people stand in marked contrast to Neandertal man and dose to the modem human type.

32

ANCIENT ART

[a] Harpoons. Of reindeer horn. L. c. 6 in. Magdalenian. [b] Dart- Thrower. Of rein- deer horn. L. 10% in. ( Piette ) [c] Baton with Fox’s Head. Of staghorn. L. c. 14 in. Magdalenian.

hunter who had a decided feeling for the relationship of the parts. With ameliorated climatic conditions and a better physical and mental endowment than Neandertal man, Cro-Magnon man made rapid and marked advances Culturally, and particularly in the arts — reaching in the Magdalenian culture a climax of prehistoric art.

The old tools carried on, but were far in advance of the Mousterian in quality of form and in precision and

laurel-leaf points and willow-leaf knives of the Solutreans (Fig. 30B), most skillful of the Cro-Magnon stoneworkers, we find a refinement in shape, proportion, and character of the curve, and a rhyth- mic movement over the surface made by the flakings. A new process in stone- working, pressure against the flint with a small piece of bone, enabled the craftsman to produce a tool that was as effective for use as it was pleasing to the eye. New materials were derived from

beauty of cutting. In the thin, sharp

[d] Necklace of Stag Teeth , Fish Verte- brae, and Shells. Paleolithic.

the hunt — bone, ivory, reindeer, or staghorn. From these, with his sharp stone points, the craftsman not only fashioned bone javelin points, needles, harpoons (Fig. 32 a), arrow-straight- eners, batons, and dart-throwers or throw sticks but decorated them, some- times with lines and conventional pat- terns, sometimes with the animal form (Fig. 32B). Around a reindeer horn

PALEOLITHIC ART

33

[a] Bison with Turned Head. Carved in reindeer horn. From the rock shelter La Madeleine , Dordogne. Magdalenian. As the figure is broken , its function is uncertain.

an ibex has been carved in such a way that the figure is not “applied” to the surface but is an integral part of a cylindrical object and in no way inter- feres with the javelin resting firmly against the crotch. Note, for example, how the horns snugly encircling the stick emphasize this cylindrical shape. To feel such a relationship between the cylindrical core and the animal form requires no mean intelligence and Sensitivity. Likewise the baton in Figure 320 reveals a highly imaginative quality in the relationship between the piece of horn and the head of a fox, while the cross markings not only enable the hand to hold the baton more securely but furnish a rhythmic move- ment over the surface.

On stone, ivory, and horn, on both flat and curving surfaces the hunter-

[b] Charging Mammoth. Engraved on a piece of ivory tusk. (De Mor tilled)

artist engraved many figures — some, linear or geometric ornament; a great many, animals, 1 In the Bison with Turned Head (Fig. 33 a), one is impressed partly by its striking vitality and partly by the formal beauty expressed by the simplest means. The head is so turned that it is entirely framed by the mas- sive bulk of the body, and its pattern involves a vivid play of curve and countercurve and a surface contrast obtained by the use of incised lines as a decorative convention to indicate the mane. Figure 33B shows an infuriated mammoth charging forward. There is a largeness, a strikingly direct statement of a few essentials, expressed by a line so sure that it is convincing and so economical that it incorporates all de- tails without specifically stating them. The animal is in profile, with only two

1 Many of these engraved pieces are frag- ments and thus their purpose is unknown.

34

ANCIENT ART

legs showing, and there is no shading, no background. The whole figure is sensitively adjusted to the space which it fills. In the Grazing Reindeer (Fig. 34A) a momentary pose is expressed with great naturalism. This keen- visioned hunter had observed the action of every part of the animal as it bent its head to browse, and with phenomenal memory he transferred the vision, with a sharp flint point, to the piece of horn. If the scratches beneath the reindeer are in- tended to suggest landscape, it is a unique example of such representation. In the Deer and Salmon (Fig. 35A) we have what is rare: a conscious grouping of several figures. The movements of each animal and the forward move- ment of the group are portrayed with a few essential lines. Even the back- ward turn of one head, which may represent the animal calling to the herd,

[b] Woolly Rhinoceros. Drawing at FonU de-Gaume. L. c. 25 in. Aurignacian ,

helps the artist to integrate the head and the antlers with the other figures without overlapping — which seems definitely to have been avoided, as one notes in the placing of the salmon. These fish may symbolize a stream, and the two lozenges above the stag may be the engraver’s signature. In the Herd of Reindeer (Fig. 33c), a visual impression is forcibly expressed by em- phasizing, through distortion and repe- tition, the most characteristic feature, the antlers.

PAINTING

So far the manifestations of the art impulse in early man appear in his tools, weapons, and small personal be- longings. To see his more monumental expression in painting and sculpture let us penetrate several caverns of France and Spain, subterranean water channels varying in length from a few hundred to some four thousand feet and now choked, at places almost impass- ably, 1 by deposits, stalactites, and

1 For an interesting account of a recent dis- covery of sculpture and also a vivid picture of the perils incident to the exploration of subter- ranean caves, see Norbert Casteret, “Discover- ing the Oldest Statues in the World,” National Geographic Magazine , August, 1924, p. 123.

PALEOLITHIC ART

35

stalagmites. Far inside these caverns, far beyond the sheltering entrance where the Cro-Magnon hunter lived, the hunter-artist, in utter quiet and darkness, with the help of artificial light engraved and painted on the walls many pictures, chiefly of animals. 1 For light he used a tiny stone lamp, filled with marrow or fat and supplied with a wick, perhaps of moss. For drawing he used chunks of red and yellow ocher, and for painting he ground these same ochers into powder and mixed them with some medium, perhaps animal fat. With a large flat bone for a palette, with brushes which he could make from reeds or bristles, and with scrapers for smoothing the wall and sharp flint points for en- graving, his tools were complete. The chalk drawing of a Bison (Fig. 35®) is a simple complete statement based upon a keen vision of the peculiar charac- teristics of the specific animal, the essen- tials of which are expressed by a bold continuous line. The horns are in front view, perhaps because the memory pic- ture triumphed over the visual illusion, or perhaps because of the formal rela- tionship thus made possible between

1 For a picture of the Cro-Magnon artist at ’■work see Charles Knight’s reconstruction in Osborn, op. cit Pl. VII.

the horns and the hump — that same feeling for shapes and their interrela- tions which we have been noting in flints, dart-throwers, and engravings.

In the Woolly Rhinoceros (Fig. 34B) is the same visual grasp of the animal form, equally convincing and monu- mental. Here the contour is broken and more varied, and is accented at points as if to suggest the mass of the figure, while short lines indicate hair and serve as rudimentary shading.

The Reindeer of Figure 36 a has been completely painted and modeled nat- uralistically in light and dark. It

[b] Bison. Incised and drawn on a cave wall. Aurignacian. (After a drawing by Breuil)

36

ANCIENT ART

[a] Reindeer. Cave f Font-de-Gaume, France, c. 15,000 B.c. ( Cartaillac and Breuil)

was first incised on the wall, which had been somewhat smoothed by the scraper, and outlined in paint; then the details were added, and the figure was modeled in various tones. It seems natural, almost realistic. Yet note the character of the line of the back, and the beauty of line as line in the horns. Through the painted figure, as through the chalk drawings, there runs an in- explicable something, whether the fig- ure is at rest or in movement, a life rhythm (for lack of a more precise term), which makes it not a stuffed animal but a vitally living creature. In the Bellowing Bison (Fig. 3 7 a), for in- stance, how the painting makes one realize that single measured movement which controls every part of the body I Noteworthy also is a rudimentary at- tempt, in the hind legs, at three- dimensional drawing.

There is great variety in these pri- meval paintings, variety both of kind and of pose — mammoth, bison, rein- deer, horse, boar, wolf; standing, walk- ing, browsing, running, crouching. The majority are isolated figures, often su- perimposed, inexplicably, one on an- other, and with no relationship to each other or to the wall space, such as was

evident in the engravings and carvings. A notable exception is the Procession of Mammoth at Font-de-Gaume. Each painting reflects the keen observation of the hunter-artist, and especially an extraordinary memory for instantane- ous poses, whose accuracy has been proved and hardly surpassed by the motion-picture camera of today. Yet this observation was of the selective type. It saw and recorded only those essential aspects which interpret the appearance and the character of the animal, its grace or awkwardness, its cunning or dignity.

But why were these paintings hidden in dark caverns in the heart of the mountain? And why do they represent almost entirely the game animals? Some scholars explain them as ex- pression only, an outlet of the art im- pulse for its own sake in terms of the artist’s own environment as a hunter. Others, with more probability and by analogy with practices of primitive peoples of today, see in them a magic purpose. These obscure isolated caverns may have been sacred places, and the bison painted on the wall may have been intended to bring success in the hunt, as the ibex carved on the dart-

PALEOLITHIC ART

37

thrower may have been believed to make the arm more sure and powerful in bringing down the game. At the same time, admitting the magic pur- pose, has not the art impulse found its outlet? Is there not combined in these paintings the same dual attainment of effective function and satisfying form that we noted even in the early flints?

In southeastern Spain Paleolithic paintings of an entirely different, and not yet entirely explicable, nature have been discovered. They are but a few inches in size and consist of a whole group of figures, both human and ani- mal. Hunting, fighting, and dancing scenes are expressed with great vigor and With an exaggeration of movement that is in distinct contrast to the im- posing dignity and serenity of the paint- ings at which we have been looking. They give evidence of an entirely oppo- site point of view toward form, for now it is not the visual perception of the ob- ject that the hand records, but a mental concept of it. These painters put to- gether, quite unnaturalistically, symbols for the different parts of the body, symbols which convey the artist’s idea with great conviction; for example, the contrasts of dynamic movement in Figure 38A.

SCULPTURE

The animal carvings on the throw sticks (Figs. 32B and c) foreshadow the capacity of the Paleolithic artist as a true sculptor. In the Cap-Blanc Frieze of Animals life-sized horses in procession, carved in relief ten or twelve inches deep, testify to the same sureness of vision as the paintings, and present the same naturalistic rendering. So also do the Clay Bisons modeled on the floor of the cavern of Tuc d’Audoubert. In the few extant examples of the human figure, however, a different approach appears. The Willendorf Statuette (so called from the cave in Austria where it was found) shows a concentration upon the repetition of bulbous shapes, with which the arms are integrated. In the small Head of a Woman , carved from bone, details are subordinated to the basic oval. Thus in sculpture, as well as painting, two divergent views 1 of representation are presented. Both of these basic but paradoxical concepts have occurred with varying degrees of dominance in the art expressions of all peoples.

1 See Roger E. Fry, Vision and Design, Coward- McCann, 1924, “The Art of the Bushmen,” for a discussion of these two contrasting attitudes.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Hunters . H. c. 4 in. Caves of Eastern Spain. ( Obermaier and Wernert)

SUMMART

The art of the hunter-artists is the art of a roaming hunter culture in which men first gave expression to their emotions as artists by infusing pro- portion, symmetry, quality of line, and decorative fitness into their objects of the hunt, of daily life, and of personal adornment. In their cave paintings of animals they proved themselves men

of sure eye, able to grasp essentials and express them with an economical and forceful naturalism. In some of the paintings and carvings, however, es- pecially those of the human figure (which, as far as we can tell, had no magical significance), the artist’s feeling tends away from the visual impression toward a mental conception and thus toward a more abstract kind of repre- sentation.

2

MESOLITHIC AND NEOLITHIC ART

(ABOUT 20,000-2000 B.C.)

AS the ice of the Paleolithic Age melted in the increasing warmth, the reindeer migrated north, the mammoth and the woolly rhinoceros disappeared, and the hunter-artists vanished. Why and where? These are still, unanswered questions. What we do know is that the ice age gave way to a transition period known as the Mesolithic. Europe became geographi- cally, climatically, and biologically the Europe of today. Man still roamed as a hunter but seemed entirely devoid of the art impulse that manifested itself so vigorously in the Paleolithic Age. His tools were crude. The only art ob-

MESOLITHIC AND NEOLITHIC ART

39

[a] Scandinavian Daggers. Of [b] Ground and Polished Stone Axe Heads. American stone flaked by pressure. L. n\ in. Museum of Natural History , New York City. ( Ameri - Neolithic. {After Muller ) can Museum of Natural History )

jects to warrant attention in a brief sur- vey are the painted pebbles of the Azilians, which are of interest chiefly, perhaps, as possible examples of an early form of writing.

Cultural evolution seemed to mark time. Then, about 10,000 b.c., there appeared changes which profoundly affected life — the domestication of animals and the cultivation of grain; the appearance of pottery and textiles and, late in the period, of metal. With grain, and the appearance of the farmer, permanent homes and village life re- placed the nomad and his cave dwell- ing, and abodes developed into the comfortable homes of the Swiss lake villages. ' . - ' ....

STONEWARE, POTTERY, TEXTILES

New industries required new tools, which continued to be made chiefly of stone. Some of these, fashioned by the old method of chipping and flak-

ing by pressure, attained a climax of stonecutting in their beauty of shape and proportions, in the precision and rhythm of their flaking (Fig. 39A), But a new method of toolmaking, that of grinding and polishing, appeared, by means of which man could obtain a smooth surface and a fine cutting edge, and by attaching a wooden handle supply himself with a tool comparable to those of modern times (Fig. 39®) .

Some of the demands made by per- manent, more secure, and better- equipped homes were met by pottery and textiles. The idea of clay fashioned into a shape and hardened by fire may have been suggested by the attempt to protect a basket from fire by smearing clay on it before placing it over the flames. Neolithic pottery was made by hand, for the potter’s wheel was ap- parently unknown. It was simple and rugged, sometimes pleasing in shape and proportion, with decoration — concentric lines, spirals, zigzags, dots, chevrons, the basic universal motifs —

well adapted to the shape and often strengthening the structural lines and surfaces (Fig. 40A) . Only a few pieces of textiles Have survived, but many ob- jects, such as spinning whorls, loom weights, and bundles of fibers, are evi- dence of the weaving of cloth and of baskets. These latter articles, together with tools and implements, not only supplied the home but constituted ob- jects of trade. For commerce had arisen, and with the interchange of goods came interchange of ideas, more definite social groupings, and a great accelera- tion in man’s development in compari- son with the long eons of time consumed in his early advances.

BUILDING

With the growth of communities, social organization, and trade and in- dustry, monumental stone structures appear. Dolmens ( dol , table, and men , stone), tombs or monuments to the dead, consisted of several stones set on end with a covering slab, hence the name. Single megaliths, menhirs (men, stone, hir, long), at times seventy feet high, were set up on end individually, or were arranged in long rows, as at Carnac in Brittany. Their purpose, though not clear, may have had to do with a cult of the dead or the worship of the sun. Sometimes they were ar- ranged in a circle known as a cromlech , the most imposing of which is Stone- henge (Fig. 41 a). This circle consists of

an outer ring of huge monoliths capped with lintels roughly cut just as they came from the quarry and laid without mortar. Inside this is a line of smaller stones; then a broken ring of five pairs of huge monoliths, each pair with its lintel; and again an inner broken circle of smaller stones, inside of which is a large slab that may have served as an altar. In the arrangement there is a feeling for order and symmetry, and a rhythm that is varied by alternating the large and small concentric circles. Such a structure is not properly speak- ing architecture. But it is the nearest approach to it that we find in western Europe until Roman times. 1

GENERAL

Europe gives us the best picture of prehistoric art because it is there that excavation and research have been most intensively pursued. In other geo- graphical areas, however, evidences of Paleolithic and especially of Neolithic culture are coming to light, as in China, Africa, and America. And though these studies are too recent and too incomplete to warrant conclusive findings, it seems fairly certain that we can see spread over large areas of the world in prehistoric times a culture in which are evident many of the charac-

1 For recent studies and excavations of Stone- henge, based upon air photography, see “Stone- henge” article, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 14th ed.

MESOLITHIC AND NEOLITHIC ART

teristics seen in Europe. Neolithic cul- ture, varying widely in extent of time in different areas, seems, as has been said, to have been a world-wide base from which evolved the great cultures of antiquity, each conditioned by all the varying geographical, social, eco- nomic, and religious forces peculiar to itself.

SUMMARY

Neolithic life was the result of great changes. Though man still hunted, he adopted a more settled kind of life be- cause of the development of agricul- ture. He began to build a home, to make pottery and textiles, and to erect monumental structures of stone. He learned new methods of making stone tools, so efficient that they have been used down to the present time. His esthetic impulse seems feeble, in con- trast to the brilliant, vital expressions of his Paleolithic predecessors, though his pottery shows interesting adapta- tions of simple motifs to ceramic deco- ration, and his stone structures give evidence of a feeling for orderly rela- tionships. He perhaps was marking time, slowly assimilating and evolving ideas and methods that were to produce great art in succeeding ages.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Avebury, John Lubbock, Baron, Pre-Historic Times, 7th ed., Holt, 1914

Boyle, Mary E., In Search of Our Ancestors* Little, Brown, 1928

Breasted, James H , Ancient Times, 2d ed. rev., Ginn, 1935

Brown, Gerard B., The Art of the Cave Dweller, R. V. Coleman, 1928

Burkitt, Miles C., Our Early Ancestors, Macmillan, 1929

Ghilde, Vere G., The Dawn of European Civiliza- tion, Knopf, 1925

The Most Ancient East, Knopf, 1929

[a] Stonehenge . Triliihans, pairs of up- right monoliths carrying stone lintels . Salis- bury Plain, England . ( Harold Allen )

Frobenius, Leo, and Fox, D. C., Prehistoric Rock Pictures in Europe and Africa, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, c. 1 937 Kuhn, Herbert, Die Malerei der Eiszeit, Munich, 1922 (Particularly valuable for tire illus- trations)

MacCurdy, George G., Human Origins, a vols,, Appleton, 1924

Osborn, Henry Fairfield, Men of the Old Stone Age, 3d ed., Scribner, 1918 Parkyn, Ernest A., An Introduction to the Study of Prehistoric Art, Longmans, Green, 1915 Peake, Harold J. E., and Fleure, H. J., Hunters and Artists, Yale University Press, 1927 (The Corridors of Time, Vol. II)

Piette, Edouard, Hart pendant Pflge du renne,

. ■■■ Paris, 1907

Raphael, Max, Prehistoric Cave Paintings, tr. by Norbert Guterman, Pantheon Books, 1945 Sawtell, Ruth O., and Treat, Ida, Primitive Hearths in the Pyrenees, Appleton, 1927 Sollas, William J., Ancient Hunters and Their Modem Representatives, 3d cd. rev., Mac- millan, 1924

Spearing, Herbert G., The Childhood of Art ; or, The Ascent of Man, rev. ed., Holt, 1930 Swindler, Mary H., Ancient Painting, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1929

3

EGYPTIAN ART

Early Egypt and the Old Kingdom

(ABOUT 45OO-2475 B.C. 1 )

F ROM the top of the Great Pyramid we look out over the undulating floor of a vast desert plateau through which cuts a narrow valley of luxuriant green, of fields and palms fringing a winding river. Above blazes a glorious sun in a cloudless sky. This is Egypt (Figs. 43A, 44A, 49A).

Of this environment several facts persistently confronted the Egyptian: the brilliant sun, the Nile River, and the great geographical contrasts of his land — the barrenness and stem majesty of illimitable deserts; the rich fertility and delights of the valley with its trees, grains, flowers, and birds, all gifts of the sun and the river. So insist- ently did these facts of environment impress themselves on his mind that

1 There is considerable difference of opinion among scholars on the question of Egyptian chro- nology and of the spelling of Egyptian names. In Chapter 3 of this book, the chronology is that of J. H. Breasted; the spelling follows that of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago

they early became dominating forces in his attempt to account for his inex- plicable world. Evil and beneficent spirits animated all things. In the daily spectacle of the sun he envisaged a mighty god Re (Ra), or Amun-Re, sailing across the sky each day in his bark, and back to the east by night along a river of the nether world. In the annual rise of the Nile he saw the resurrection of Osiris, who after a tragic earthly life and death became god of the dead. Just as Osiris entered upon a new existence in another world and just as nature with the rise of the Nile burst into new life, so to every Egyptian lay open the opportunity for a similar experience of revived life after death. This hope constituted one of the most powerful influences in Egyptian civi- lization and Egyptian art.

While Paleolithic man of western Europe was coping with the rigors of a glacial age his relative in North Africa was enjoying a more leisurely life in a land of abundant rain and luxuriant vegetation. Then, with a change of climate in northern Africa which brought about desert conditions, Stone Age man with his animals gath- ered about the oases or migrated to the abundant waters of the Nile Valley.

[a] Egypt and the Ancient Near East

Along the river he built his hamlets, tamed the animals, and began to plant grain. Before 3000 b.c. he had evolved a system of picture writing, invented a calendar, worked out a system of irri- gation, and had discovered metal — perhaps accidentally as the molten drops of copper separated from the rock in his campfire in Sinai.

Tiny states began to emerge along the river and slowly coalesced into two kingdoms, Upper and Lower Egypt, which were finally united about 3400 b.c. by a king called Menes. At the head of the political and social system we see a supreme pharaoh, who prob- ably owned all the land; a group of suppressed nobles received their ap- pointments from him. The mass of the people were (with possible exceptions) slaves. The chief economic basis was agriculture, though commerce was

carried on with the Beduins of Sinai and with the Aegean lands. Toward the end of the Old Kingdom the highly efficient government of the pharaoh weakened. The landed nobles, who were gaining power, began to lay the foundations of a feudal state.

A vivid picture of Egyptian life comes from the tombs, for the pro- vision for life hereafter was one of the chief concerns of existence in this world. The Egyptian believed that there was a force called the ka which was the counterpart of the body. It came into being with the body, continued through life with it, was in all features like it, though invisible, and at death accom- panied it into the next world. As the ka and the body were coexistent, the body must be carefully preserved through mummification, and the ka through offerings of all kinds. Thus to

44

ANCIENT ART

[a] Egypt at Low Nile. At the top of the steep bank is the cultivated area with palm trees; in the background rise the cliffs of the desert plateau. ( Author )

secure necessities and luxuries for the spirit land, which was but a reflection of this world, it was necessary to paint or carve them upon the tomb walls, or to place in the burial chambers small models, each of which, with the proper incantation, would function normally in the hereafter. It is these beliefs that motivate most of Egyptian art — its pyramids, sculpture, painting, and fine goldwork.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Recall for a moment the Egyptian landscape: stern, vast, and of generally horizontal lines, both in the valley floor and in the strata and crests of the cliffs. No gently curving hills or jagged picturesque mountains relieve the mo- notony. A contrastingly luxuriant val- ley, a thread of an oasis, twists through

the rocky desert plateau. Considering this setting, the social organization within it, the importance to himself of the Egyptian’s religious ideas, and the abundant supply of stone, what forms and purposes would one expect his architecture to embody? Apart from the palaces and houses, temporary and flimsy though comfortable enough in the warm climate, it is not surprising to find massive enduring tombs and temples of stone as the dominant archi- tectural expression.

In the Old Kingdom, the desire to create a permanent safe abiding-place for the dead led to the erection of tombs, of which the pyramids , 1 or royal tombs,

1 The pyramid field extends for about 50 miles an the western bank of the Nile south from the Delta, in the vicinity of the Old King- dom capital, Memphis (Fig. 4.3A); for Lower Egypt was the center of civilization in the Old Kingdom.

EGYPTIAN ART

45

[a] Pyramids of Khafre and Khufu. Giza. IV Dynasty (5900-2750 b.c.). (Hoyningen- Huenefrom Sieindorjf’s Egypt, J. J. Augustin^ Publishers)

are the climax. A distant view of the Pyramids of Giza (Fig. 49A) reveals their position on the desert plateau safe above the highest level of the Nile. They rise with unbroken line and sur- face from the plateau base to an apex, comprising a form of great simplicity and dignity. Contrast for a moment the fagade of a Gothic cathedral (Fig. 349B) with its multiplicity of verti- cal lines, each pointed arch, statue, pinnacle, buttress, and tower contribut- ing to the soaring quality and to the broken light and shade. Notice how different is the feeling of unrest and exaltation there experienced from the quiet repose that comes from the unity of the unbroken line and surface of the pyramid.

Such a structure, simple geometric form though it is, was not conceived in a moment, but was the result of a long evolution. As far back as we can trace the Egyptian, he buried his dead in a pit over which he heaped up the sand, holding it in place with stones and twigs. By slow process this pit and sand heap grew; the actual chamber below the ground became rectangular and was faced with wood, brick, and finally stone. At the same time the mound above was covered with brick or stone, which followed in a general way the lines of a sand heap and thus attained a shape that looks like a low truncated pyramid, called a mastaba (Fig. 46A). Finally, some king who was ambitious to erect a still mightier tomb began to

46

ANCIENT ART

[a] Typical Mastaba. a. entrance; b. chapel; c.. false door; d. shaft down which the sarcophagus was let into the burial chamber below; e. serdab for the statue. L. 40-50 ft. Mastaba is an Arabic word mean- ing a bench or terrace.

body. The chapel became complex, as time went on, with additional rooms and corridors which were covered with reliefs that vividly picture the everyday life of the Egyptian, for the benefit, as has been said, of the ka.

These reliefs represent the production of grain; the raising of cattle; the mak- ing of jewelry, vases, and pottery; hunting on the desert or in the papyrus swamp; processions of offering-bearers; and banquet scenes. Thus they provide the dead with both the necessities and the pleasures of life. The scenes are arranged in horizontal zones and the figures are carved in very low relief and painted in flat colors which are partly naturalistic and partly governed by a color scheme that creates a pleasing wall decoration apart from the subject interest.

Figure 47 a represents a harvesting scene. In the upper rows the harvesters are cutting the grain, leaving a high stubble just as they do in Egypt today; below, men with staves are driving the donkeys back and forth oyer the threshing-floor, tying the grain in great bags, and loading it on the don- keys 5 backs or tossing the bundles into the granaries. The figures are drawn with very little overlapping except in the case of the animals, where depth is

pile mastaba upon mastaba, forming a step pyramid; and then, by filling in the steps, attained the pure pyramidal form. 1 * *

The mastaba was a solid mass except for the chapel, a reception room for the ka where offerings were made, and the serdab or cellar, a tiny secret cham- ber built in the heart of the structure to contain a statue of the deceased that could represent him in the spirit world if anything should happen to the actual

1 For a graphic illustration of this develop-

ment, see James H. Breasted, Ancient Times, new

ed., Ginn, 1935, P- 74 *

suggested by repeating the silhouette. The figures of the men, so full of life and movement, are drawn according to an Egyptian formula — the head and legs in profile, the torso and the eye in front view.

This conventional method of treat- ing the figure, which persists in both reliefs and painting throughout the entire course of Egyptian art, we can see more clearly in a rare wooden panel from a mastaba, that of Hesire (Fig. 48A). Though a single figure is represented, it is not placed in the cen- ter of the panel; yet the balance is maintained by the staff and the writing

EGYPTIAN ART

47

[a] Work in the Fields. Reaping , threshing, and stacking. From the mastaha of Ti, Saqqara.

utensils • — which Hesire holds in his left hand; the horizontals of feet, baton, girdle, and shoulders happily balance the otherwise insistent verticals. Look more closely at the figure itself. To appreciate its high quality we must frankly accept the conventional way in which different parts of the body are drawn from different points of view. This was not because the Egyptian could not execute a profile, as we shall see, but simply because this conven- tional method of drawing the figure, established early in Egypt, held a more powerful grip upon the artist than did a naturalistic rendering. Possibly, ac- tual rather than visual truth appealed more strongly. The artist knew that a man had two arms, although in a pro- file he could see but one, and his in-

stinct bade him indicate the fact rather than record the visual image. In the case of Hesire , the feeling of distortion is not disconcerting, so skillfully has the artist united the parts and so deco- ratively compelling is the entire panel. In this relief we feel the proud bearing of a noble and also the strength of a man of determination. Note the in- dividualized face with its high cheek- bones and firm mouth, the careful modeling about neck, shoulders, and knees; the firmness and strength of the carving, especially in the kilt and the wig, which produce a broken texture to contrast with the relatively smooth surfaces of the rest of the figure.

How the artist went about his work we have learned from some of the tombs w 7 here the walls have been left

unfinished. He planned his decoration with the help of guide lines to pro- portion both the spaces and the figures; then he sketched the latter in, made an incision along the lines of the pre- liminary sketch with a chisel, and cut away the background, leaving his de- sign in relief. If the stone was too uneven to offer a good foundation for

ANCIENT ART

[a] Panel of Hesire. Wood. H. c. 4 ft. c. 2800 b.g. Cairo Museum.

painting, he covered it with a thin coating of fine plaster. His pigment he mixed with some binding medium, probably a gum, and applied it to the dry stone or plaster, with brushes made of reeds, in flat even tones, using no light and shade. Whatever modeling was done was done by the contour line made in the preliminary sketch and by the chisel. Proportions were not a mat- ter of the artist’s individual preference but were determined for him by tra- ditional canons, as were the forms of both men and animals. Sculptors’ models he copied and mastered, too often with mechanical hardness. All Egyptian art was determined by con- vention; and when great art appeared it was because the artist’s ability and personality were so superior that they transcended the restrictive traditional influences.

We wonder that painting rather than painted reliefs was not used more fre- quently in these finely decorated mas- taba chapels. It is as though the Egyptian scorned the brush as in- ferior to the chisel. What he could do in the field of painting is illustrated by one rare example, the Geese of Meidum (Fig. 50 a). On a border are painted two pairs of waddling ducks and feeding geese. The birds fill the panel with a symmetrically balanced composition that is both naturalistic and abstract: naturalistic in that the painter has ob- served the birds and their character- istic movements keenly; abstract in that he has filtered these observations into a decorative pattern without loss of the essentials of the form and move- ments of the birds. There is no back- ground, except for some sparse herbage, and no natural illumination which would give rise to the use of light and shadow to indicate volume in the fig- ures. On the contrary, the painter has seen in the fowl flat areas of light and dark color which he has marked off

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49

[a] Pyramids of Khufu and Khafre . Restored . Giza . (Hoelscher)

with firm lines and repeated with effec- tive variation — all of which contrib- utes to the decorative quality of the panel.

However, the pyramid and not the mastaba is the most characteristic structure of the Old Kingdom. Most important are the great Pyramids of Giza , of which that of Khufu, or Cheops (Fig. 45 a), is the largest. With the ex- ception of the galleries and burial chamber (Fig. 52B) it is solid masonry of limestone which was roughly cut in the quarries in the eastern Nile cliffs directly across the river and floated over at high Nile to the base of the plateau where the tomb was to be built. There the masons finished cutting the stones and marked them with red ink to in- dicate the place of each in the struc- ture. Then they were laid course upon course by great gangs of slaves who dragged them by sheer human labor up the temporary ramps. 1 The angles

1 An unfinished pyramid in the foreground of

Figure 49A shows these ramps.

left by the decreasing courses were filled with casing stones of a pearly- white limestone, cut with such nicety that the eye can scarcely detect the joinings. Thus the pyramid presented a perfectly smooth surface from founda- tion to tip. 2

Nicety of engineering is also apparent in the fact that — without modern sur- veying instruments and machinery, and with only a knotted rope for laying out the huge base and only human labor to drag stones of two-and-one-half tons into place — so accurate is the work that the most delicate modern instru- ment can detect only about one-half inch of error in the measurement of one side. Yet it is not alone huge size, successful mechanical engineering, and skill in stonecutting that constitute the art of such a structure, but its formal engineering as well — the proportions, and the simple dignity of the form, so

2 A few of these casing stones can still be seen at the base. The ragged condition of the pyra- mid is due to the depredations of the Muslim builders of Cairo.

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ANCIENT ART

[a] Geese of Meidum. So called because the panel was found in a tomb

consistent with its function and so adapted to its geographical setting. 1

On the east side of the Great Pyra- mid are three small pyramids belong- ing to members of the royal family, while clustered about are rows of mas- tabas of the great nobles who, having been associated with the pharaoh in life, wished to continue in this place of honor even in the tomb. The pyramid of the pharaoh, however, is the domi- nating structure of the whole cemetery (Fig. 49A) , just as he himself had been the dominating power of Egyptian life.

The middle pyramid of the triple group at Giza, the Pyramid of Khafre, is somewhat smaller than that of Khufu, indicating an economic and political waning in the power of the pharaoh. This pyramid is important, however, because from the remains surrounding it we can study all the additional struc- tures, which, together with the pyramid itself, comprise the pyramid complex. To do this let us look first at the

1 The massiveness, solidity, and weight of the Pyramid of Khufu is better realized when one recalls some dimensions (in round numbers): base, 775 ft., covering 13 acres; height, 450 ft. (originally 480 ft.) ; the flat space now on the top, 30 ft. square. According to Petrie the structure contains about 2,300,000 blocks of stone, each of which averages in weight 2$- tons. These stones are chiefly limestone except about the burial chambers, where very finely cut granite is used.

mastaba-shaped structure in the right foreground of Figure 49 a. This building is near the town in the valley, at the base of the plateau on which the pyra- mid stands. In order to provide for the spirit of the dead, offerings must be placed at the tomb frequently. The hot climb up over the sandy hill led to the erection of a covered causeway from the valley up to the little chapel ad- joining the eastern side of the pyramid. For as the spirit land lay in the west, the spirit must come toward the east to receive the offerings. Hence tombs were built on the western bank, and the chapel was on the eastern side of the pyramid. The beginning of the cause- way presupposed some kind of entrance or vestibule. To provide that is the function of the building in the valley.

Thus we have seen that a pyramid complex consists of (1 ) the pyramid itself, within or below which was the burial chamber; (2) the chapel adjoining the pyramid on the eastern side, where the offerings were made and ceremonies performed, and where were kept in store chambers the linen, grain, honey, oil, and other offerings of food and drink, together with the rich ceremonial vessels (Fig. 55B) for use in the daily rites; (3) the covered causeway leading over the cliffs; and (4) the valley tem- ple, or vestibule of the causeway, down in the valley.

EGYPTIAN ART

chapel near Meidum. IV Dynasty {2goo~2yyo b.c.). Cairo Museum.

The valley temple of the Pyramid of Khafre is built on the lintel system; that is, the upright supports are bridged over with horizontal beams, or lintels. Here supports and lintels are huge red- granite monoliths, finely proportioned, skillfully cut and polished, and entirely devoid of decoration. Alabaster slabs cover the floor, and seated statues, the only embellishment, are ranged along- side. This interior, protected from the hot sun by the great blocks, must have been cool and dim. It is lighted by a few rays filtering in from above, slant- wise, This is because the pillars of the central aisle are higher than the side walls, and the roof over the central part is therefore at a higher level than that over the sides. In the vertical space left between these two levels are slits in the stone, through which the light comes, forming an embryonic clerestory (Fig, 52c), a structural feature that became characteristic of early Chris- tian churches. With its plain, simple dignity, it is a remarkably impressive room, harmonizing with the simple massive tomb to which it led.

Leaving Giza and traveling up the river to Abusir, let us look at the chapel and valley temple of the Pyramid of Sahure (Figs. 52A, 53A), much smaller in size and built about a hundred years after that of Khafre. Here we see some- thing not found at Giza — columns,

in place of rectangular pillars, and wall paintings. From the natural forms of his environment the Egyptian found in the palm tree, with its tall trunk and spreading leaves, an inspiration for the design of his columns. The elegance of this design, in no way hampering the column’s function of support, together with the bright colors on the walls, lends an air of splendor which con- trasts sharply with the austere sim- plicity of the Valley Temple of Khafre.

As we have seen in the case of the latter and of the mastabas, sculpture in the round also played its part in the tomb architecture of the Old Kingdom. Its function was bound up with the de- sire either to perpetuate or to serve the dead. Should a carefully mummified body by any chance perish, then a statue as nearly like the original as possible could represent the body in the world to come. Hence we are not surprised to find portraiture early developed, 1 As for its form, both material and style are in complete harmony with the simple, geometric, grandly monumental structures of which it is an integral part. Though wood, clay, and bronze were used, stone was the primary material — the

1 As with the pyramids, a long evolution in carving must be presupposed for the high ac- complishment of the Old Kingdom sculpture, though we have only incomplete evidence of it

ANCIENT ART

[a] Pyramid of Sakure. Restored. Abusir. c. 2735 b.c. a. pyramid, chapel, and upper end of causeway; b. valley- temple.

[b] Section of the Pyramid of Khufu. a. entrance; b. grand gallery ; c. King’s chamber; d. Queen’s chamber.

[g] Valley-Temple of Khafre. Section showing the clerestory. {After Hoelscher)

limestone and sandstone of the Nile cliffs, the granite from the dikes at the cataracts, and diorite from the desert.

The statue of Khafre (Fig. 13 a) illus- trates the style. Located in the valley temple of the pyramid, it is one of the row of statues which served as hostages for the real body. The rectangular masses of the statues, in complete har- mony with the surrounding rectangular space, served to break the severe sim- plicity of unadorned surfaces. We see the pharaoh seated on his throne, on which is the intertwined lotus and papyrus, symbol of united Egypt. He faces directly forward, with no turn in any part of the figure. About his head are the protecting wings of the hawk, symbol of his semidivine station as son of the sun god. He wears the simple kilt of the Old Kingdom and a linen headdress which covers his forehead smoothly and falls in plaited folds over the breast. The false ceremonial beard is partly broken off.

As a portrait the statue is charac- terized by aliveness, yet it is permeated with a feeling of imperturbable calm

EGYPTIAN ART

53

[a] Pyramid of Sahure. Restored. Abusir. Colonnaded hall of the chapel, c. 2735 b.c. ( Bor char dt )

that conveys the impression not of an individual but of something greater — the enduring power of the pharaoh, the abstract conception of the dignity of kingship. This impression derives from several contributing factors: the charac- ter of the form, the summary nature of its carving, and the distinctive quality of its material. The figure is carved from diorite, a stone so hard that it will turn a steel tool. The large planes are cut generally parallel to the planes of the block of stone, and there is no movement from side to side. Further- more, the figure, the bird, and the throne compose, with a feeling of in- evitability, into a unity of architectural quality.

Standing figures present the same for- mal qualities, even in a group such as the Menkaure ( Mycerinus ) and His Queen in the Boston Museum. In Ranofer (Fig. 54A) we see a figure facing directly forward with left foot advanced and arms held dose to the side. By simplifying the

contour, the wig adds to the compact- ness of the figure, which is massive and rather angular. The firmly placed erect head, in fact the whole figure, is per- meated with an intense vitality. As in the Khafre , the individual traits of the man are submerged in the generalized features. The erect head and the whole bearing denote a person of the noble classes.

The vivacity of many of the Old Kingdom statues is enhanced by the use of rock crystal for the eyes, and of color, which not only covers the entire surface but adds details not carved in the stone, such as hair, brows, and jewelry. In the case of female figures the flesh is of a yellowish tone because the Egyptian woman led a more se- cluded life than the man, whose tanned skin is usually painted a dark reddish color. Thus while the color is partly naturalistic it is, even more, decora- tive, for it is laid on flat and strongly differentiates the parts of the figure.

54

ANCIENT ART

[a] Ranofer. H. c Of limestone , painted nasty {2750-2625 Cairo Museum.

painted ; with rock crystal. Found in a tomb at Saqqara, b.c.) Louvre , Paris.

In the Sheikh el-Beled Scribe (Fig. 54B) we find lively expres- sions of the lower classes whose function was to serve the king in the spirit world. Both are more highly individualized than the kings and nobles. The Sheikh is a self-satisfied fellow, perhaps a middle-class overseer. He stands erect and in frontal pose, but lifts one arm to hold his staff. Here the sculptor is working in wood and by making the arms of separate pieces, which he appar- ently did not dare to do in stone, he could use a freer pose. Again, because of the cylindrical character of wood, we note a basic cylindrical form in the figure. Originally, the wood was cov- ered with linen tightly glued on, to furnish a surface for painting.

As we turn to the Scribe } which is carved from stone, we see the same four-sided organization as in Khafre. Here is a keen alert servant with a spare face, square jaw, and thin lips — a shrewd man with a sense of humor. He sits cross-legged, Eastern fashion, with his pen in his hand (as is indicated by the position of the fingers) ready to take down what his master will dictate. Legs, back, and arms are blocked out in large masses only; chest, shoulders, and head alone are individualized. Yet the expression of momentary expec- tancy — an abstract idea — which fills the entire figure has been caught and transformed into the permanency of stone in a manner that is large, and truly sculptural.

EGYPTIAN ART

[a] Head of a Hawk. Gold. H. 4 in. Cairo Museum. (Fechheimer)

55

[b] Ceremonial Vase. Restored. Of gold and lapis lazuli. H. c. 2 ft. c. 2750 b.c. ( Stoedtner )

STONEWORK AND GOLDWORK

The dignity and the vitality of Old Kingdom building, carving, and paint- ing repeats itself in the creations of the various craftsmen. This was particularly true in the work of the stonecutters, who furnished vessels for household use, in the products of the goldsmiths, who provided the jewelry so necessary in Egyptian costume, and in the fine cer- emonial objects for the tomb ritual.

The stonecutter had inherited a tra- dition dating far back into prehistoric times. With the invention, before 3000 b.c., of the stone-pointed drill with shaft, fly wheel, and crank for turning and, somewhat after 3000 b.c., of the tubular drill of metal, he was enabled to produce vessels of astonishing qual- ity. Such hard stones as porphyry, diorite, and hematite were used where

the variegated color of the stone adds a decorative quality. Among the softer stones alabaster was widely used, not only for its attractive ivory color but also because its veining could be uti- lized as a decorative element, and the stone could be worked to a transparent thinness. The vessels are generally sim- ple and rugged in shape, and they vary in size from a tiny jar for unguent to great storage jars, bowls, and plates a foot in diameter. Ornament is rarely found, for the craftsman depended for his effects upon shape and proportions, and upon the material for its own in- trinsic weight, color, and texture. It is an indication of the craftsman’s sensi- tivity that we find a small unguent jar made from delicate alabaster and a large storage jar from heavy porphyry.

56

ANCIENT ART

[a] Map of Thebes, showing the most im- portant temples and tombs. The dwellings have dis-

The goldsmith, with an abundant supply of material, developed many ways of working it. He could cast, chase, solder, hammer, or plait it with amazing technical skill. A hawk’s head (Fig. 55A) was originally attached to a bronze body by rivets still left just be- low the neck. Here the goldsmith has hammered the metal into shape, prob- ably over a mold, soldered the parts together, and inserted eyes cut from red jasper. Like the painter of the Geese of Meidum (Fig. 504) , he had observed his bird form well, and with an amazing economy of modeling has given ex- pression to the essential form and char- acter of the hawk.

SUMMARY

By the beginning of the Old Kingdom those conventions had been established which controlled, with but one impor- tant break at the time of the Empire, the long course of Egyptian art. The builders of the Old Kingdom were primarily tomb-builders, and their stone mastabas and pyramids are still massive, static, and enduring, thor- oughly in harmony with their site and function. Into them fitted the imposing portrait sculpture that was required by religious belief, conventional in

form and conception, but filled with an intense vitality. Paintings and painted reliefs, chiefly in the chapels of the tombs, were based upon conven- tions which evolved from mental rather than visual concepts of the world. They were finely chiseled, gaily decorative, and teeming with eager life. The stone- cutter and the goldsmith provided additional evidence of sensitivity to material and effective design in cre- ating objects of daily use and personal adornment, objects which partake of the sobriety and dignity of the pyra- mids and the statue of Khafre.

The Middle Kingdom and the Empire

(2160-IO9O B.G.)

T HE tendency toward the decline of the pharaoh’s power, with the corresponding gain in the power of the nobles, had plunged the country into a period of struggle and disorder. Out of this eventually arose a feudal state, at the head of which still stood the pharaoh; but he maintained his power by balancing the nobles one against another. Economically it was a period

EGYPTIAN ART

of great prosperity. Agriculture was developed by building canals and re- claiming the land; commerce was car- ried on not only in the south but also with Asia and the Aegean Islands. And now Egypt became a military power. Athirst for conquests, it ex- tended its boundaries not only far south into Nubia but east to the Euphrates. Thus on the monuments we see military subjects: weapons, chariots, and the horse, which, coming with the pre-Indo-Europeans from the grasslands of central Asia, finally reached the Nile Valley about 1700 b.g. The wealth that came from the booty taken in these wars made possible the development of the capital city, Thebes, into a great metropolis with magnificent palaces, tombs, and tem- ples ranged along both banks of the river (Figs. 43 a, 56A).

A considerable change had taken place in thought and religion. The Egyptian could now look back over his own history for centuries. In the light of the futility of man’s greatest efforts the fresh and vital faith of the Pyra- mid age gave way to pessimism, which is reflected in the portraits of the age (Fig. 70A) and in its literature.

“Follow thy desire while thou livest,

Celebrate the glad day!

Rest not therein!

For lo, none taketh his goods with him,

Yea, no man retumeth again, that is gone thither.” 1

A broadening horizon of thought and the growth of the idea of world empire fired the imagination of a young king ( I 375~ 1 35^ b.c.), who, applying the

1 James H. Breasted, A History of Egypt from the Earliest Times to the Persian Conquest, Scrib- ner, 1909, p. 206.

principle of political power to the realm of religion, conceived the idea of one god and creator, whom he called Aton, an old name of the sun god Re. He then broke both politically and re- ligiously with the powerful though cor- rupt priesthood at Thebes, took for himself the name Akhnaton, which means “spirit of Aton,” and set up a new capital at a place that he called Akhetaton, meaning “Horizon of Aton” (now known as Amarna). Something of the spirit of the new faith we feel in the hymns that Akhnaton wrote:

The Splendor of Aton

“Thy dawning is beautiful in the hori- zon of heaven,

O living Aton, Beginning of life!

When thou risest in the eastern hori-

. zon of heaven,

Thou fillest every land with thy beauty;

For thou art beautiful, great, glitter- ing, high over the earth;

Thy rays, they encompass the lands, even all thou hast made.

How manifold are all thy works!

They are hidden from before us,

O thou sole god, whose powers no other possesseth.

Thou didst create the earth according to thy desire,

While thou wast alone:

Men, all cattle large and small,

All that are upon the earth.

That fly with their wings,

The countries of Syria and Nubia, The land of Egypt.

Thou settest every man in his place, Thou supplies! their necessities.” 1

Egypt by this time, however, was too crystallized by the traditions of thou-

1 Ibid., pp. 371 ff., where a complete transla- tion is given in parallel arrangement with one of the Hebrew Psalms, which it approximates to an amazing degree.

58

ANCIENT ART

[a] Tomb of Seti I. Section and Plan. Thebes, Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. XIX Dynasty \i%o-i 205 b.c.). (Benoit)

sands of years, too enthralled by its nobles, military leaders, and particu- larly by the powerful priesthood of Amun, to accept an idea so contrary to tradition. Akhnaton, by nature not a practical man of affairs, became en- tirely absorbed in the religion of Aton. The result was that, through upheavals at home and invasions from without, the Empire dwindled while its ruler pursued his monotheistic ideals. At his death the power at Thebes was restored and after a period of decline the Em- pire was reorganized by Seti I (1313- 1292 b.c.) and Ramesses II, the Great (1292-1225 b.c.), but it was never firmly re-established.

Life in “Hundred-Gated Thebes” and at Amarna, too, was luxurious and magnificent. The enormous wealth of the pharaoh enabled him to erect a palace with decorations that repro- duced for him the outdoor world in which he delighted. On the floors and walls, which were painted or decorated in glazed tiles, were represented ducks swimming in the water and the animal life of the marshes (Fig. 75A); across

the deep-blue background of the ceiling flew flocks of birds, and butterflies. The furniture was superbly designed and skillfully constructed (Fig. 76B) . Mag- nificent gold and silver vessels, blue faience lotus cups, glass vases of vari- ous colors, rich jewelry (Figs. 76A, 78A and b, 79A) • — all these tell of a mag- nificence quite in contrast to the sterner dignity of the Pyramid age.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

As the Old Kingdom was pre- eminently the period of the pyramid- builder, so the Middle Kingdom and the Empire were that of the temple- builder. This was not because burial no longer demanded the elaborate care shown earlier. An even more scrupulous attention was given to the protection of the body, but in a different way. Rob- beries and neglect had shown the futility of the pyramid for perfect preservation; and while pyramids continued to be built by the earlier pharaohs of the period, they were small, and made of

EGYPTIAN ART

59

[a] Temple of Queen Hatshepsut. Deir el-Bahri. XV III Dynasty (1580-1350 b.c.) (Hoy- ningen-Huene from Steindorjf’s Egypt, J, J. Augustin, Publishers)

brick. Today they are little more than mounds, though their substructures have yielded rich finds of jewelry and other mortuary equipment.

The nobles no longer sought a locality for burial near that of the king, but hollowed out their tombs and chapels in the cliffs bordering the Nile. The pharaohs themselves, perhaps following the example of their retainers, chose for their burial site a wild, desolate valley west of the cliffs at Thebes now known as the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings (Fig. 56 a ), where deep in the rocky hills they carved burial chambers which were reached by long corridors, some- times extending five hundred feet into the hillside 1 (Fig. 58A) . The entrances were carefully concealed; and because of the impracticability of making offer- ings at the actual tombs, the mortuary

1 The Tomb of Tutankhamun, discovered in the valley in 1922, is a rock-cut tomb of this type.

temples, which correspond to the chapel abutting the eastern side of the pyra- mid, were separated from the tombs and built on the eastern side of the cliffs along the bank of the river. In each case the temple was on the axis of the tomb, and hence in the same rela- tive position as the pyramid chapel. These temples were dedicated to the gods, and each provided the king who built it with a place for worshiping his patron god during his lifetime, and then served as his mortuary chapel after death. Hence they became elab- orate and sumptuous, befitting both the kings and the gods of a mighty em- pire.

The noblest of these royal mortpary temples is Deir el-Bahri , 2 the temple of Queen Hatshepsut (Fig. 59A). The site

• Deir el-Bahri, meaning “The North Monas-

tery,” is the modern Arab name of the locality, from a monastery, now destroyed, that was built on the site.

6o

ANCIENT ART

[a] Frankincense Frees Deir el-Bahri. ( Naville )

is a sloping bay in the western cliffs (Fig. 56 a), above which tower rocks weathered into columnar shapes, the vertical lines of which contrast happily with the long horizontals of the plateau edge; the rough surfaces afford deep shadows and a more broken mass of light and shade than is usual in Egypt. The temple rises from the valley floor in a series of colonnaded terraces con- nected by ramps to the cliffs in which were cut the sanctuary and the shrines. Notice in the distant view how effec-

tively the long horizontals and verticals of the colonnades and their rhythm of light and dark repeat the pattern of the cliffs above — • an intentional rela- tionship between the architectural de- sign and its natural setting.

Consistency and a reserved taste, both in the general plan and in every part, give this temple striking unity and quiet dignity. In the colonnades, for example, the pillars are either sim- ply rectangular or chamfered off into sixteen sides rather than of the more

EGYPTIAN ART

61

elaborate lotus or papyrus form, and are sensitively proportioned and spaced. The great amount of sculpture that adorned the temple is very definitely an integral part of the entire design. The statues in the round, perhaps two hundred in number — sphinxes guard- ing the approach, statues of the queen flanking the doorways and the pillars or kneeling along the procession path — are purely architectural in their sim- ple masses, as are the painted low reliefs (Figs. 6oa and b) which cover all the walls. The bright color and the gardens, however, added a vivacious note for in Hatshepsut’s day the terraces were not the barren places they now are, but luxuriant gardens filled with frankincense trees and strange rare plants brought here from the faraway land of Punt. “It was a gorgeous way up which the procession of Amun passed. ... In its brilliancy of color under the Egyptian skies the long vista must have been a magnificent reiteration of a claim to almost superhuman power.” 1

1 “The Egyptian Expedition 1930-1931,” Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin , March, 1932, Sec. II, p. 14.

[a] Temple of Amun. Karnak. Central aisle of the hypostyle hall. The columns are 66 ft. high , and the capitals 22 ft. wide at the top. XIX Dynasty [1350-1205 b.c.). See Figs. 64A and b for an idea of the original appearance and the plan.

[b] Two Types of Col- umn Derived from the Papyrus Plant, a. Pa- pyrus; b. Papyrus Cluster Bud Column; c. Papyrus Flower Column. (Bor- chardt)

62

ANCIENT ART

[a] Temple of Horus. Edfu. View from the side showing the pylon and the open court. Though later in date, it preserves all the characteristics of the typical pylon temple. {Gaddis and Seif )

The Egyptian temple to the gods we shall illustrate by a small temple at Edfu (Figs. 62 a, 63A), because it is in an ex- cellent state of preservation and, though later in date than the Theban age, illus- trates clearly the fundamental plan of a pylon temple, which did not change es- sentially over many centuries. To one approaching, the dominating feature is the great fa§ade, or pylon, which is simple, massive, with sloping walls and generally unbroken lines. The broad surface too is unbroken, except for the doorway with its overshadowing cor- nice, the four grooves to hold the great fiagstaffs, and the low reliefs. A round molding finishes both the top and the sides. Passing through the doorway, we . enter an open court surrounded on three sides by a colonnade. Beyond rises a roofed hall, the hypostyle hall, where the cool dimness contrasting with the bright sunshine of the open court, together with the rhythm of the

massive shafts, inspires a feeling of solemnity. Still farther on lies the sanctuary, low, dark, mysterious, and secluded. A girdle wall, beginning at the pylon, surrounds the structure. This temple at Edfu shows us the general arrangement of a typical pylon temple (Fig. 63B), which always includes a pylon, an open colonnaded court, a hypostyle hall, a sanctuary — sometimes surrounded by smaller chambers for the storage of the temple treasures and for the use of the priests — and a girdle wall.

This plan clearly evolved from ritu- alistic requirements. Egyptian religious practices were not congregational, as were the Greek, the Buddhist, and the Christian. Only the pharaoh and the priest could enter or view the sanctuary; a chosen few were admitted to the hypostyle hall; the masses, only into the open court; and the girdle wall shut off the entire site from the outside

■

EGYPTIAN ART

[a] Temple of Horns. Edfu. View from the top of the pylon showing part of the open court , the hypostyle hall , the sanctuary , and the girdle wall. [Gaddis and Seif)

world. The passage, which became pro- and the Romans brought other ideas gressively mysterious, from the large into the Nile Valley, sunlit court to the small secret unseen It is not surprising to find that the sanctuary, naturally inspired a feeling Egyptian temple, like the pyramid, is of solemnity and awe. From this essen- simple and massive when we recall tial plan, once evolved, the conserva- again the geographical conditions of

tive Egyptian did not deviate for the country — that narrow strip of

hundreds of years, even after the Greeks luxuriant river valley bordered on both

[b] Plan of a Typical Pylon Temple, a. pylon; b. court; c. hypostyle hall; d. sanctuary; e. girdle wall; f. colossal statues of the pharaoh; g. obelisks; h. avenue of recumbent animals.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Temple of Amun. Kamak. Section of the hypostyle hall , central part. From a model in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (. Metropolitan Museum)

lil Wpl« 

[b] Temple of Amun. Kamak. In process of building for c. 2000 years to the 1st cent. b.c. Ramesses I, Seti I, and Ramesses II, all of the XIX Dynasty ( 1350 - 1205 b.c.), built the great hypostyle hall. {Bae- deker)

EGYPTIAN ART

[a] Temple of Amun. Luxor. Right: central colonnade of an unfinished hypostyle hall. Center and left: double colonnaded court. XVIII Dynasty {1580-1350 b.c.). ( Gaddis and Seif)

sides by vast sterile deserts; a land- scape of predominantly horizontal lines; and over all a continuously clear sky and overwhelming sunshine. Protection from the heat demanded thick walls with few apertures, and covered colon- nades. Thus the temple in its outline presents a group of simple geometric volumes — pyramidal and rectangular — with great areas of unbroken wall space. The approach is along a broad avenue bordered on both sides by statues of recumbent animals with metal disks between their horns. In front of the massive pylon stand two obelisks (Fig. 63a) nearly a hundred feet high, covered with hieroglyphs, their glittering metal tips catching and re- flecting the sunshine. On each side of the doorway stands a colossal statue of the pharaoh, harmonizing in its simple

massiveness with the massive pylon; in the grooves rest the huge wooden staffs that carry the flags floating above the cornice. The walls are covered with low reliefs, painted in bright colors, en- riching the surface but not destroying the solidity of the walls. The great door of cedar of Lebanon is inlaid with shin- ing metal. Surrounding and framing the whole structure are the rich green masses of palms and the brilliant sky. A magnificent and awe-inspiring sight.

The two most famous temples of the Empire are Luxor and Karnak (Fig. 64B) . If we look at these closely, we shall see that they are merely complex arrange- ments of the simple plan of Edfu; for it became the custom for each succeed- ing pharaoh to add to his glory by building on an additional hypostyle hall or pylon to what was already a

66

ANCIENT ART

[a] Temple of Amun. Luxor. Colossal statues of Ramesses II in the great court. H. c. 23 ft. c. 1230 b.c. (Steindorjf and Seele)

complete temple. One fact only, which Edfu does not illustrate, needs to be mentioned. In the hypostyle hall of Karnak (Fig. 64A) the central rows of columns are higher than the side rows, which means that the roof over the center is higher than that on the sides. The wall space connecting these two levels is filled with perforated stone windows. Here is a fully developed clerestory, the beginning of which we saw in the valley temple of the Pyramid of Khafre (Fig. 52c).

The decorative motifs that the Egyp- tian used in the embellishment of his temples were taken chiefly from the lotus, the papyrus, and the palm. The palm we saw used in the colonnade of the Pyramid of Sahure (Fig. 53A). The lotus was popular with the Egyptians, who used it as a decorative motif in all their arts — not so successfully, how- ever, in the capitals, for its spreading

petals militate against the needed feel- ing of solidity in an architectural sup- porting member.

The papyrus plant (Fig. 6 ib), now extinct in Egypt but in early days plen- tiful, produced a flower whose feathery petals formed a bell-shaped mass. The columns forming the central row of the hypostyle hall of Luxor (Fig. 65A) have capitals the shape of which has been suggested by the papyrus flower, and the columns of the colonnade in the background are based on a cluster of papyrus buds. The stems of this cluster are tied tightly below the buds, whose swelling contours form the capi- tal. Were it not for this broad band to hold the stems firmly together, the shaft would give one a feeling of inse- curity by seeming incapable of per- forming its function of support. The shafts of both the flower and the bud type contract at the base, as does the

EGYPTIAN ART

67 ‘

[a] Rock-cut Temple of Ramesses II. Abu Simbel, Seated statues of Ramesses 66 ft. high, ( 1 Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

stem of the plant; for when conven- tionalizing his plant forms, the Egyp- tian closely observed nature. In design, proportions, and workmanship, these colonnades at Luxor are among the noblest to be found in the pylon temples.

This becomes more apparent when we turn to the hypostyle hall of Karnak (Fig. 6 1 a). Here, according to the usual convention, the columns of the central aisle are of the papyrus-flower type; those of the side aisles are of the pa- pyrus-bud type. But compare the latter with the bud type at Luxor. At Karnak , only the general contour of the cluster has been retained, producing a heavy, ungainly shaft. It is as if the architects, in haste to complete this mighty hall, were depending upon bulk and scale to create an effect. And indeed they were partly successful in their attempt, for notwithstanding the shabby workman- ship, a certain overwhelming impres-

siveness results from the mere number and size of these mighty shafts . 1

Equally impressive, and architec- turally fitting, is the colossal sculpture used at the entrance and in various parts of the temple — masses of stone as simply geometric as the pylon itself but at the same time portraits, imper- sonal to be sure, of the pharaoh (Figs. 66a, 67A).

The tombs of the nobles as well as the temples were decorated with reliefs which related to the life of the deceased. The zonal arrangement, characteristic of the Old Kingdom, con- tinued; but the grouping became more

1 It is interesting to note that the Egyptian did not use cement in these gigantic structures, but depended upon the huge weight of the stones to hold them in place. For the technical methods of lifting these stones to such heights, see Somers Clarke and Reginald Engelbach, Ancient Egyptian Masonry , Oxford University Press, 1930.

68

ANCIENT ART’

[a] Wild Bull Hunt. On the pylon of the Temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu, Thebes. XX Dynasty ( 1198-1167 b.c.). ( Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

complex, with more overlapping. The figures not only are expressive of emo- tion but are more curvilinear, in con- trast to the angularity of the Old Kingdom reliefs. This is partly due to the elaborate pleated linen garments which supplanted the simple kilt and straight garment of earlier ages. All these changes are indicative of a turn toward nature on the part of the sculp- tors, instead of implicit following of traditional modes of representation.

The naturalistic tendency seen in these reliefs received powerful impetus from Akhnaton’s revolution. The new faith, with its conception of a sole creator of all life, turned men’s atten- tion to nature and lifted art expression above traditional convention. But re- action in art as well as in religion set in after the failure of the revolution.

The priests of Amun had triumphed. Not only did they attempt to eradicate the heresy by destroying the works of art created by the Amarna artists, or at least by removing from them all references to the hated Aton, they also shackled the artists even more securely than before. For it was the priests who controlled both subjects and methods of representation. Even under these restrictions, a brief period of high at- tainment was reached by the Egyptians before their art was strangled by crys- tallizing conventions, as we see in the Wild Bull Hunt (Fig. 68a), in which the king is spearing bulls in the swamps along the river (indicated by fish in the corner). Above a base of spearmen and archers moving with vigorous rhythmic swing, the zonal arrangement gives way to the large panel of the

EGYPTIAN ART

69

[a] Osiris and Goddesses. XIX Dynasty (1350-1205 b.c.). Temple of Seti , Abydos.

pharaoh in his chariot and three ani- mals carved with bold vigor, the chariot group in terms of the old convention, the animals with extraordinary visual reality, and all tied together in a com- positional unity. Note here that the ground is not cut away, leaving the figures in relief, but a deep groove is chiseled along the contours, giving the effect of a heavy line.

The wall decorations in the Temple of Seti I at Abydos (Fig. 69A), on die other hand, illustrate the crystallized convention. The figures are highly con- ventional in form, but the carving is very sure, with graceful sweep of con- tour and softly rounded relief which casts delicate shadows. With no in-

terior modeling and no feeling for structure (note that both hands are the right one), the figure has become a highly stylized convention — affected, stilted, entirely lacking in the vivacity of the Old Kingdom reliefs. Yet the entire wall space, with the sensitively related panels, the beauty of the carv- ing, and the color laid on flat in large areas, stands as a superb piece of mural decoration.

The portraits of the pharaohs and the nobles reveal a naturalizing tend- ency; the individual, with his idio- syncrasies and emotions, is emerging from the Old Kingdom generalizations and abstractions. In Amenemhet III (Fig. 7 Ga) we see not only the warrior

70

ANCIENT ART

[a] Amenemhet III. Obsidian, H. c. 5 in. XII Dynasty ( 2000-1788 b.c.). MacGregor Collection, Tamworth. (Journal of Egyp- tian Archaeology)

and the ruler, but the individual man who lived and thought intensely. In the strong mouth, the drooping lines about the nose and the eyes, and the shadowing brows, we discern ' a man who, though still powerful, has lost faith. The head is carved in obsidian (note its reflective quality), a stone so obdurate that it must have put to the test the most accomplished skill in cut- ting, grinding, and polishing,' yet so large and powerful is the characteriza- tion that the diminutive size becomes colossal in its impressiveness. :

This trend toward naturalism was accelerated by the Amarna sculptors, as one sees in the numerous -portraits and reliefs of king, queen, and princesses. In the portraits of Akhnaton (Fig.’ 70B) we do not feel primarily the ruler "or even the official class to which this man be- longs. What is significant is a thoroughly human characterization which em- phasizes, in the pose of the head, the

Akhnaton. Painted sandstone. H. c. 8 in. 1375-1358 b.c. Staatliche Museum , Berlin. ( Grantz )

long neck, the drooping mouth and lids, and in the air of almost effeminate delicacy, the essential elements of his character, which was primarily that of the dreamer and idealist.

For the expression of individual charm, the head of Jfofretete (Staatliche Museum, Berlin), wife of Akhna- ton, stands pre-eminent. In the long slender neck, the sensitive mouth, and the delicate modeling one feels an aris- tocratic, queenly bearing combined with a simple, unaffected grace. A use of color that is more conventional than naturalistic differentiates and relates the parts, and places emphasis upon the recurrent themes of cylindrical masses and curves.

When we compare these heads with those of Khafre (Fig. 1 3A) and Ranofer (Fig. 54A) , we observe a striking differ- ence. We miss the vivacity, the alert- ness, and the serene grandeur of the earlier work, in which individuality is

EGYPTIAN ART

71

[a] Reconstructed Town Houses at Amama. The conical objects in front of the houses are corncribs with steps for filling from the top. (Journal of Egyptian Archaeology)

subordinated to generalization. In its place we find that the chief aim of the artist has been to express the significant characteristics of the individual, his emotions, and his inner life.

The domestic architecture of the Em- pire, 1 though but scantily preserved because of the perishable materials of which most of it was constructed, ap- pears to have presented to the eye as simple geometric masses and unbroken lines as the temples (Fig. 7 IA )* Because the windows were few and small, a central hall rising above the other rooms afforded a clerestory for lighting. The flat roof was utilized for an open loggia,

1 For domestic architecture see “The Town House in Ancient Egypt” by N. de G. Davies, Metropolitan Museum Studies, Vol. I, Pt II,

19528-29; Henri Frankfort on private houses in Amama, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology , Novem- ber, 1922, pp. 144-49; and the Medinet Habu publications of the Oriental Institute of the Uni- versity of Chicago relating to the palace of Ramesses III.

or for a garden when the houses were packed close together in the crowded city. In a royal palace such as that at Medinet Habu there was every comfort and luxury, including a private bath with each room, as well as a grandly impressive audience hall reminiscent of the temple hypostyle hall. In this audi- ence hall an important note is the roof, which is vaulted rather than made of lintels as in the temple hall. 2 The walls, largely unbroken because of few win- dows, the ceilings, and the floors were elaborately painted and must have been very gay.

PAINTING

The wall paintings of the palaces and the tombs were the chief field of the painter, and in this respect his work was tied up with that of the builder and the

2 The Egyptian understood the arch, but used it chiefly in substructures.

72

ANCIENT ART

[a] Wall Decoration in the Tomb of the Noble Khnumhotep. Beni Hasan. Detail of the right side showing the noble harpooning fish in the papyrus swamps, c. igoo b.c.

[b] Tomb ofNakht. Thebes. XVIII Dy- nasty (1580-1350 b.c.). ( Metropolitan Museum , New York City)

sculptor. In the Old Kingdom painting functioned more as an accessory to re- lief than as an independent art. In the Middle Kingdom and the Empire, how- ever, the painters began to omit the relief and to paint directly on the wall, partly because the walls of the tombs excavated in the cliffs were too coarse and rough for carving and partly be- cause of the greater ease and freedom of the brush in comparison with the chisel. The rough walls were covered with stucco and plaster, on which the figures were drawn in firm outline with the help of squaring for propor- tioning, and the enclosed space was filled in with flat color. This was not true fresco, for the pigments were mixed with some binding medium, such as gum, and applied to a dry surface. The purpose of this painting was tomb and palace decoration, and in the tomb it served a magic purpose also.

There were many stock subjects, such as hunting and banqueting scenes. In Figure 72 A, for instance, the noble- man is out in the papyrus marsh in his reed boat, harpooning fish. His figure is expressed in the conventional way, as was proper for one of his station. In the river scene below, however, there is a freedom of action that reveals the capacity of a conventional figure to express all kinds of movement. Notice the wave line, a convention to express water, and the oval- topped area in which are shown the two speared fish. This represents a side channel of the main stream flowing into the distance through papyrus plants. To express distance or depth, the painter places the distant part above the near, as if he were laying out a ground plan.

This combination of several aspects of a figure or a scene without regard to visual appearance is an early example of the same attitude toward visual ap- pearance found in the work of many other peoples: the Maya, the North-

EGYPTIAN ART

(Fig. 72B). ( Metropolitan Museum, New

west Coast Indians, the Chinese bronze- workers, and some modern painters, notably Picasso.

Figure 72B gives us a glimpse into a tomb 1 the decorative scheme of which is based on a system of a dado, four zones, and a border, with a zigzag ceil- ing pattern which copies the ceiling decoration of an Egyptian house (see also Figure 77A) . The zonal arrangement is ordered into a symmetrical balance about the false door, which was pro- vided for the spirit to pass through in order to receive the offerings presented by the kneeling figures and heaped up in the lower zone (Fig. 73 a). Like that of the human figure, the drawing of the objects is not based upon visual per- ception from a consistent point of view but upon traditional conventions. Of these objects — loaves of bread, onions, grapes, fowl, quarters of meat, lotus,

1 For fine color reproductions of this tomb, see N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Nakht at Thebes, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1917.

papyrus — some are seen in profile, some in front view, some from above; but all are combined into a pattern of subtly varied symmetry and great esthetic power through the repetition with variation of shape, motif, color, value, and texture.

On one of the side walls the zonal arrangement is broken by the large figures of the noble and his wife and by the vivacious scenes of agriculture and stock-raising. On the opposite wall (not seen in the illustration) is a Banquet Scene (Fig. 74B), where six guests are seated upon mats near a blind harper. They wear long thin garments, wigs held by fillets, and on the crown of the head a conical object containing perfumed unguent; they have wreathed lotus flowers about their heads or hold the flowers in their hands; all wear elaborate collar-necklaces and large disk earrings, one of which a little serving-maid is adjusting. There is greater freedom of pose and variety of

74

'ANCIENT ART

[a] Fowling Scene. From, a Theban tomb. XVIII Dynasty {1580-1350 B.c.). British Museum, London. {Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

[b] Banquet Scene. From the tomb of Nakht, Thebes. XVIII Dynasty {1580-1350 b.c.),

EGYPTIAN ART

75

[a] Painted Floor Decoration. Detail. From the palace of Akhnaton. Amama. (Petrie)

ikmm

movement here than in Old Kingdom work, and a suavely flowing line that has a beauty of its own. The figures overlap and are related composition- ally — line, shape, and color repeating, varying, and contrasting. This is also true in a Fowling Scene (Fig. 74A) in which the noble is standing in his boat and driving the birds from a papyrus swamp with his boomerang. In his right hand he holds three birds he has caught; his hunting cat, on a papyrus stem just in front of him, has caught two more in her claws and is holding the wings of a third with her teeth. His two companions, perhaps his wife and

little daughter, are enjoying the lotus they have gathered. The water and the figures are represented by the usual Conventions, but cat, fish, and birds show a; trend toward a naturalism based upon visual perception.

As in sculpture, this tendency toward naturalism received great impetus from Akhnaton. In his own palace at Amarna the floor decoration of one room repre- sented a. pool of water surrounded by the appropriate zones of life and vege- tation (Fig. 75 a) . In the center was the pool, with birds, fish, and aquatic plants; bordering this was the marsh- land, with birds flying about; beyond,

76 ANCIENT ART

[a] “Perfume Spoon.” Wood. Louvre , Paris.

[b] Cedarwood Chair. Decorated in em- bossed golf claws of ivory. Cairo Museum. {Howard Carter)

the meadowland with tall grasses through which calves were running. AH the forms, both plant and animal, were painted with a new freedom. An illu- sion of nature, however, did not domi- nate; for the Egyptian’s never-failing sense of design grouped the scenes into an orderly arrangement by enclosing

them with firm lines and a conventional outer border, so that representation and decoration were happily blended. Here at Amarna we see the painter, like the sculptor, reaching out spontaneously into a new field of visual exploration, but he was still too deeply imbedded in traditional forms to break the shackles permanently.

WOODWORK, METALWORK, GLASS, CERAMICS

The magnificence and ostentation of the Empire was bound to be reflected in the furnishings of the palace and in the adornment of the king and the nobles, and all of it is seen in the mor- tuary equipment from which the ex- tant examples have come. Magnificent furniture, which probably had been used in the palace before it served the tomb, was found in the tomb of Tut- ankhamun. 1 A relatively simple chair (Fig. 76B) illustrates particularly well die functional, structural, and esthetic excellence of the design. It is made of cedarwood with carvings and orna- ments of gold which combine such in-

1 The discovery of this tomb in 1922, one of the most startling archaeological discoveries of modem times, revealed for the first time the almost unbelievable magnificence of royal burial equipment in the Empire. For the his- tory of the discovery, and illustrations and de- scriptions of the equipment, see Howard Garter and A. C. Mace, The Tomb of Tut-ankh-amen, London, 1927-33, Vols. I— III.

EGYPTIAN ART

77

[a] Painted Decoration of a Tomb Ceiling , which probably copies that of some palace.

scriptions and symbols as the sun disk, the uraeus, royal birds with the two crowns, the symbol of millions of years, the life sign, and the names of the pharaoh into a design of architectural quality.

In addition to furniture, there was a demand for great quantities of smaller articles for household equipment and personal use which employed many craftsmen working in various materials — stone, wood, ivory, glazed terra cotta, glass, metal, and semiprecious stones. The stoneworker brought the Old Kingdom traditions of his craft to a point of technical virtuosity, as is seen in the elegant alabaster vases from Tutankhamun’s tomb. The design in- corporates elaborate seminaturalistic handles, though the object is all cut from one piece of stone. The body of the vase is worked to a translucent thinness. Wood was particularly de-

sirable for carving such small toilet articles as the cosmetic receptacles of a cosmetic-loving people. In these re- ceptacles one sees how the Egyptian relied for his designs upon the human, plant, and animal life with which he was familiar. The “Perfume Spoon” of Figure 76A combines into a functional and esthetic unity a duck and a girl swimming. The duck forms the recep- tacle, with the opening between the wings, and the girl, the handle, both forms being united by the girl’s arms and by the repetition of the heads.

Glazing had been known by the Egyptian from prehistoric times and had early been used to cover tiles for wall decoration. It had then been ap- plied to various objects, but in the Em- pire period it reached a climax both in its technical development and in the variety of its uses — beads, pendants, scarabs, amulets, vases, figurines, and

7 8

ANCIENT ART

[a] Glass Vase. Dark blue with dragged pattern in light blue, yellow, and white. H. 3^ in. Metropolitan Museum of Art , Mew fork City. {.Metropolitan Museum)

architectural decorations. The blue color, particularly deep and pure, the craftsmen obtained from copper by a long process that required great skill in

the preparation of the material and patience in tending the furnaces during the long even roasting, for no mechan- ical devices were known to regulate the

[b] Necklace with Pectoral. XII Dynasty {2000-1 y 88 b.c.). Metropolitan Museum of Art, Mew York City. {Metropolitan Museum)

heat.

body and dragged back and forth by a

Glass was not the common, inexpen- sive medium among the Egyptians that it is at present, for the blowpipe was not invented until about the first century b.c. It was therefore necessary to mold the hot glass over a copper and paste core that could later be removed — a slow, laborious process. Such a vase as that illustrated in Figure 78A was made in this way. It is deep-blue in color. For decoration, threads of light-blue, yellow, and white glass were Wound about the still hot neck and

hooked instrument, forming the zigzag that is known as the “dragged pattern.”

Metalworkers and lapidaries were in demand because of the great amount of gold used in furniture and in many small articles, and particularly because of the importance of jewelry in the Egyptian costume — crowns, collar- necklaces, necklaces with pendants, armlets, bracelets, ornaments and clasps for all parts of the clothing. The lavish use of gold became especially evident upon the discovery of the Tutankhamun

[a] Effigy of Tutankhamm upon the First Coffin . Gold over wood inlaid with glass, faience, and lapis lazuli. Cairo Museum. ( Howard Carter)

tomb, notably in the concentric gold coffins (Fig. 79A), which are magnifi- cent examples of the goldsmith’s craft. Such too are the diadem found on the head of the king, and the collar-neck- laces. The latter are elaborate examples of a popular form of jewelry. The chain and pectoral, or pendant, was also popular. The chain in Figure 78B con- sists of drop beads arranged in pairs in a fourfold unit of blue-green feldspar, lapis lazuli, carnelian, and gold, with a gold clasp ingeniously designed with a dovetail groove and a tongue. The pectoral is an openwork gold plate en- graved on the underside and inlaid on the upper side with turquoise, lapis lazuli, and carnelian. In the center die kneeling figure of a man is holding palm branches on which rests the royal cartouche, flanked on each side by a royal falcon; the intermediate space is filled with the uraeus and the sun disk, from which hangs the sign of life. The

birds are united skillfully to the central design by the uraeus, the life sign, and the claws braced against the palm branches, and all parts are held to- gether by the firm base. The blues of lapis and turquoise are well balanced, and the whole design is unified by the careful distribution of the red carnelian.

SUMMARY

The Egyptian Middle Kingdom and the Empire were ages of great produc- tivity and accomplishment in all the arts. Wealth fostered magnificence and display on a colossal scale. Great tem- ples were the symbols of the age, in particular the pylon temple, grandly simple in mass and contour, gigantic in size, a solid and enduring mass of stone decorated with sculpture which, whether as colossal statue or low painted relief, was supremely archi- tectural. This impressive manifesta-

8o

ANCIENT ART

tion, in. its plan, its elevation — in fact in every respect — was a form de- termined by ritualistic requirements and royal pride, by stone, and by the local setting. Portrait sculpture, still important, became more individual- istic than in the Old Kingdom, and less freshly vivacious. Painting contin- ued to function as decoration for tombs and palaces.

The wider outlook upon life that characterized the Empire, and notably the influence of Akhnaton’s religious revolution, led the artists along a path that a few had already begun to dis- cover— the path of nature. For a brief time visual perception gained on mental concepts, and the fresh point of view inspired artists with new cre- ative power. Freedom of pose, variety of movement, and freely flowing curves supplanted stiffness and angularity.

But the Egyptian, by nature con- servative, soon fell back upon the con- ventions, which now had become empty forms — highly decorative, but arti- ficial rather than vital. Craftsmen in wood and stone, gold, glass, and ceram- ics contributed to the magnificence of tomb, temple, and palace furnishings and to personal adornment. When not flamboyantly elaborate, the furniture, jewelry, and alabaster and ceramic ob- jects reveal great technical skill, fertile imagination, and an innate sense of design that adapted the forms of na- ture admirably to utilitarian or decora- tive ends.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baikie, James, The Life of the Arunent East , Mac- millan, 1923

Breasted, James H., Ancient Times , 2d ed. rev., Ginn, 1935

Development of Religion and Thought

in Ancient Egypt , Scribner, 1912 A History of Egypt from the Earliest

Times to the Persian Conquest , 2d ed. rev., Scribner, 1909

Gapart, Jean, Egyptian Art, tr. by W. R. Dawson, Stokes, 1923

r Lectures on Egyptian Art, Uni- versity of North Carolina Press, 1928

— - Primitive Art in Egypt, tr. by A. S.

Griffith, Lippincott, 1905 Childe, Vere G., The Most Ancient East, Knopf,

1929

Clarke, Somers, and Engelbach, Reginald, Ancient Egyptian Masonry, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1930

Cossfo, Manuel Bartolomd, and Pijodn, Jos6, Summa Artis, Vols. I-X, Madrid, 1931-46, V61. Ill

Davies, Nina M. Cummings, Ancient Egyptian Paintings, University of Chicago Press, 1936 Davies, Norman de G., The Tomb of Nakht at Thebes, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1917

Frankfort, Henri, ed., The Mural Painting of El-Amameh, London, 1929 Laurie, Arthur P., The Materials of the Painter's Craft in Europe and Egypt, Lippincott, 1911

Maspero, Sir Gaston C. C., Art in Egypt, Scrib- ner, 1912

— Manual of Egyptian Archeology, tr.

by A. S. Johns, 6th ed., Putnam, 1926

— ■ — — — Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt, tr.

by Mrs. G. H. W. Johns, Putnam, 1914 Murray, Margaret A., Egyptian Sculpture, Scrib- ner, 1930

Petrie, Sir William M. Flinders, Arts and Crafts of Ancient Egypt, McClurg, 1910

— — Decorative Patterns of the Ancient

World, London, 1931

- — — : — Social Life in Ancient Egypt,

London, 1932

Ranke, Hermann, The Art of Ancient Egypt, Vienna, 1936

Ross, Sir Edward Denison, ed., The Art of Egypt through the Ages, Studio, 1931 Schafer, Heinrich, and Andrae, Walter, Die Kunst des alien Orients, Berlin, 1925 Smith, Earl B., Egyptian Architecture as Cultural Expression, Appleton-Century, 1938 Steindorff, George, and Hoyningen-Huene, George, Egypt, 2d ed. rev., Augustin, 1945 Swindler, Mary H. Ancient Painting, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1929

Weigall, Arthur E. P. B., The Life and Times of Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt, rev. ed., Putnam, 1923

Winlock, Herbert E., The Treasure of El-Lahm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1934

Worringer, Wilhelm, Egyptian Art, tr. by Bernard Rackham, Putnam, 1928

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA

[a] Copper Relief from the Temple of Ninkhursag. British Museum, London. (British Museum)

4

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY AND PERSIA

Sumerian Art

(ABOUT 4OOO-I925 B.C.)

AS we leave the Nile Valley and travel eastward into Asia to the Valley of the Two Rivers (Fig. 43A), in which arose another civilization con- temporary with the Egyptian, we look in vain for tombs, temples, or palaces. “Standing on the summit of this mound one can distinguish along the eastern skyline the dark tasselled fringe of the palm-gardens on the river’s bank, but to north and west and south as far as the eye can see stretches a waste of unprofitable sand. To the south-west the flat line of the horizon

is broken by a gray upstanding pin- nacle, the ruins of the staged tower of the sacred city of Eridu . . . and to the north-west a shadow thrown by the low sun may tell the whereabouts of the low mound of al ‘Ubaid; but otherwise nothing relieves the monot- ony of the vast plain over which the shimmering heat-waves dance and the mirage spreads its mockery of placid waters. It seems incredible that such a wilderness should ever have been habitable for man, and yet the weath- ered hillocks at one’s feet cover the temples and houses of a very great city,” 1

1 C, L. Woolley, Ur of the Chaldees, Scribner, 1930* P- 13 -

82

ANCIENT ART

Why this condition of complete ruin? Of the two rivers that form this valley, the western, the Euphrates, is quiet and majestic, but it is almost unnavigable because of cataracts in the north and sandbars in the south. The eastern river, the Tigris, rising in the moun- tains to the northeast, is more rapid, and forms the highway of commerce for the valley. Like the Nile in Egypt, both rivers, flooded during the season of heavy rains, bring down vast quan- tities of rich alluvium, forming an amaz- ingly productive soil. But these floods prove equally destructive, for they not only change the courses of the rivers but soon reduce buildings made of nonresist- ing material, such as the Babylonians used, to heaps which the sands blowing in from the desert convert into rather natural-looking mounds.

The valley divides naturally into two parts, the lower of which is gen- erally called Babylonia. 1 It is an ex- traordinarily fertile region of flat river bottoms. The upper part, Assyria, is more barren, and stretches up into the plateau country along the higher reaches of the Tigris. Taken as a whole, this valley, in contrast to Egypt with its secure isolation and its peaceful and strangely uniform civilization, is open on the west to the Arabian Desert and on the east, north, and northwest to highland plateaus, and is thus ex- posed alike to peaceful wanderers and warring invaders. The story of the val- ley is one of conflicting groups, racially differentiated; of infiltration, conquest, absorption. Out of this shifting com- plexity arose four 2 outstanding cultures:

Strictly speaking, “Babylonia” is not ap- plicable until Babylon became the capital under Hammurabi about 2100 b . c .

2 Probably also the Hittite (at its climax about 1500 b.c.), at present obscure though emerging through the work of archaeological expeditions in Anatolia and through the recent partial decipherment of the Hittite writing.

the Sumerian (with Semite elements), the Assyrian, the Chaldean, and the Achaemenian Persian.

Our earliest glimpses of the peoples of the Valley of the Two Rivers take us into the Neolithic age, perhaps into the same cultural stratum that we find in Egypt. In that age metal was dis- covered and a system of writing de- vised, at a time roughly contemporary with the same developments in the Nile Valley. By what people or peoples these advances were made, we do not know. At the dawn of historical times we find in the lower Tigris-Euphrates Valley the Sumerians, who may have migrated into the valley from the eastern plateaus. They were an agricultural peo- ple, and eventually built strong walled towns, such as Ur and Lagash. Then in from the western deserts drifted Semite nomads, who turned from grazing to agriculture, absorbed much of the Su- merian culture, and built their own cities farther north — Kish, Akkad, Babylon. Though the Sumerian culture largely prevailed, the ruling power swung back and forth between the two peoples, the Semites producing two of the mightiest kings, Sargon (active 2750 b.c.) and Hammurabi (2123-2081 b.g.), under whom Babylon became the capital of the first Babylonian Empire.

Owing to control of the floods by irrigation, this lower part of the Valley of the Two Rivers was now a rich agri- cultural land. Next to adventure, trading was the major activity of the com- munity. Religious beliefs and practices centered about great nature gods; Anu, god of the sky; Enlil, creator and ruler of the earth and “lord of the storm,” who sent both beneficent and destruc- tive floods; Ea, lord of the depths and as lord of waters a healing, benevo- lent god; Nannar or Sin, the moon god; Shamash, the sun god; and Ishtar (Venus), goddess of love and fertility. In contrast to the Egyptian, the Su-

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 83

[a] %iggurat at Ur. Reconstructed. H. 32 ft. 2300-2180 b.c. (Joint Expedition of the British Museum and the University Museum , University of Pennsylvania )

merian took too gloomy a view of a future world, “the place whence none return, 95 to give elaborate attention to burial. Though personal burial equip- ment, especially that of royalty, was sumptuous, the tomb and its decoration provide neither monumental architec- ture nor an intimate picture of life. It was the present life that mattered ~— the palace for its enjoyment, and the temple to propitiate the gods for material prosperity. The god was an earthly ruler and a great landowner; Nannar, for example, was king of Ur and as such had a court with a huge organization covering every activity from that of high priest and minister of war to that of director of donkey trans- port. Thus the temple and its adjuncts were a huge mundane establishment, and the priesthood became an impor- tant factor in the business life of the country, the priests rented land and bartered in wool, cattle, herds, fruits, perfumes, and the products of the craftsmen.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Poverty in building materials faced the Sumerian. His country provided him with little wood and no stone — only the mud of the river bottoms. Brick, both baked and unbaked, had to supply his need, except for a small amount of imported stone. Thus when building on a large scale with this small material — - too small to span any con- siderable distance as could the stone lintels of the Egyptian — * the Sumerian was compelled to adopt the arch as his basic structural principle.

An early example of building is a small temple to tne mother goddess (Ninkursag, near Ur) . It stood on a spacious platform and was gaily color- ful. It was built of brick with wood lintels sheathed in copper. Stone steps led to the doorway, which was guarded by lions to ward off malevolent spirits, and was flanked by friezes of animals, birds, and men carved in white shell or

ANCIENT ART

[a] Standard. Detail. 3500-3200 b.c. Baghdad Museum. (Joint Expedition of the British Museum and the University Museum) University of Pennsylvania)

stone set in black. The platform, the guardian figures, the friezes, the vivid color — these we shall meet constantly in Babylonia, Assyria, and Persia.

Above the doorway of this temple was a large copper panel decorated with a design composed of a lion- headed eagle with outstretched wings clutching the backs of two stags (Fig. 81 a). The significance of this design, found frequently in the valley, is not known. The heads of the animals are in the round, the bodies in high relief, the wings in low relief. The stags are treated naturalistically, in contrast to the conventional treatment of the wings; thus a variation in texture is added. Copper was a material in the use of which the Sumerians showed great skill.

The use of figures of engraved shell set in a dark ground is well illustrated by a Standard (Fig. 84A), a triangular box on a pole, probably used cere- monially. Here the figures are laid in

lapis lazuli with an occasional dash of red, and vividly picture Peace and War. In the upper zone the king and his chariots are seen; in the middle and lower zones, his attendants and cap- tives. In general, the design forecasts the great series of narrative reliefs of Assyria and Persia.

The most characteristic structure of the Valley of the Two Rivers is the ziggurat, a tower of several stories be- longing to a temple, and undoubtedly the dominating feature of every Su- merian city of any consequence. The Ziggurat at Ur (Fig. 83A) may be taken to illustrate the type. It consists of four stages decreasing in size and height upward, the lowest, fifty feet high, forming a massive base. This stage is broken on one side by a triple stair- way of one hundred steps each branch of which converges upon an entrance leading directly to the shrine, thus cen- tering interest upon the focal point, both architectural and religious, and

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EGPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 85

[a] Stele of Urnammu. 2300 b.c. University Museum , Philadelphia. {Joint Expedition of the British Museum and the University Museum , Uni- versity of Pennsylvania )

also providing a fine setting for the elaborate pageantry connected with the ceremonial rites. The structure is a solid mass of earth and crude brick with a thick facing of baked brick laid in bitumen, with pitch-dipped reed mats laid between every few courses. 1 The walls have a decided batter (an inward slope) and all the surfaces and lines are slightly curved, giving the mass compactness and relieving it of the illusion of sag found in long un- broken lines. 2 The stages were differ- entiated not only in size and propor-

1 The mound made by the ruin of this zig- gurat is known locally as A 1 Mughair, “Mound of Pitch.”

2 See remarks on the Parthenon (pages 126-27), in which these variations from regularity were first scientifically studied.

tion but also in color, which seems to have been used symbolically. Above the white court rose the black lower stage suggesting the underworld; a red middle story, the earth; and the blue shrine with gilded dome, the heavens and the sun. 3 Added to these large, strongly contrasted areas of color was the greenery of the trees and gardens, which seem to have been planted on all the terraces. 4 Thus a ziggurat must have been colorful and imposing.

8 The color is very problematical. That color was used is not questioned. But the actual hues found may have been ancient restoration, and the symbolism, is uncertain. The statements above follow Mr. Woolley’s suggestions.

4 Such were the famous Hanging Gardens of Babylon; the Tower of Babel at Babylon was a ziggurat similar to that at Ur, only larger,

86

ANCIENT ART

[a] Gudea. Diorite. H. 3% ft. c. 2430 b.c. Louvre , Paris.

The %iggurat at Ur belonged to the Temple of Nannar, the moon god, god and king of Ur. The temple occupied one side of the Sacred Area and about it were grouped, rather irregularly, temples of Ningal, the moon goddess, and those of minor related deities, to- gether with various secular structures belonging to the court of the god . 1 A large court, on a terrace ten feet above the Sacred Area level, surrounded by storerooms and chambers, leads to a spacious upper terrace, where rises the massive ziggurat. Platforms and ter- races, so characteristic of buildings in this valley, are easily explained as pro-

1 For an air view see Frontispiece to C, J. Gadd, History and Monuments of Ur, Dutton, 1929, and the National Geographic Magazine, August, 1928.

tection from recurring floods. Not so evident is the origin of the ziggurat. If the Sumerians migrated from the hill country, the tower with an altar on its summit may well be the “Mountain of God,” or the “High Places” where they were wont to worship, created artifi- cially in their new homes on the plains.

With a few exceptions, the sculpture of the Sumerians consists of reliefs which served a decorative and narrative pur- pose in a building, or of reliefs on monu- ments, such as the Stele of Urnammu, one zone of which (Fig. 85A) shows a group of figures crisply cut in fairly high re- lief and simply organized into a bal- anced group. The scene represents King Urnammu pouring a libation into a vase containing date-palm leaves. The god Nannar, seated on the right, holds a pickax, a measuring rod, and a build- er’s line, symbolizing his order to the king to build him a temple. In the frag- mentary zone below, the king is seen with the builder’s tools carrying out the divine orders. The figures are clothed in the heavy woolen garments charac- teristic of the costume of the valley. Al- though there appear here some of the conventions noted in Egypt, as in the shoulders, there is an extraordinary vitality in these figures — vigor and largeness in the modeling, and tech- nical excellence in the stonecutting. The fact that the objects and the seated and standing figures just fill the space adds to the decorative effect.

Sculpture in the round, which is com- paratively rare — probably because of the lack of stone — is best illustrated by the statues from Tello (Lagash). Figure 86 a, carved from diorite which must have been imported from a considerable dis- tance, represents' Gudea, priest-king of Lagash. He is seated in frontal position, with hands tightly clasped in the atti- tude of devotion, He wears a woolen cap, the fleece kilt of the priest-king, here covered with inscriptions, and a

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EJJPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 87

[a] A Cylinder Seal and the Impression Made When It Is Rolled over Soft Clay. H. c. 1 in. The impression shows a hero fighting a bull , and a being, half man half bull, fighting a lion . The inscription names the owner, the scribe Lugal-Lam. Reign of Sargon of Akkad. 2341- 2300 b.c. Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. (Oriental Institute)

long woolen mantle which falls away from the right shoulder, leaving the arm exposed. The squat proportions, pos- sibly due to the proportions of the block of stone, add to the compact massiveness of the figure. The parts are like reliefs carved on the four-sided matrix, and so closely knit together that one is always aware of its control. Details are cut with sharp precision, as in cap, eyebrows, eyes and mouth, and fingers, and thus introduce a broken texture to contrast with the subtly modeled surfaces in the face and the exposed arm. An interme- diate texture motif is seen in the folds of the drapery, the fingers, and the feet. Taken as a whole, the statue is permeated with a tense vitality, like the statues of the Old Kingdom in Egypt. Like them, it reveals a capacity to in- fuse stone with a living quality and at the same time retain the intrinsic qual- ities of stone.

Great skill in stone carving in minia- ture size we see in the cylinder seals. The seal consisted of a cylindrical piece of stone, usually about an inch and a half high, pierced for the attachment of a cord (Fig. 8 7 a). They were made of various colored stones, both hard and soft, such as obsidian, agate, carnelian and jasper, lapis lazuli, and alabaster.

and were decorated with a design in in- taglio, so that when the seal was rolled over the soft clay a raised impression was made, as in the use of sealing wax today. With this impression the Su- merian sealed, signed, and identified his letters and documents, widely were written on clay tablets. In a Seal of King Sargon (Fig. 88a), on each side of the central group is a mythological figure, perhaps Gilgamesh, one knee bent upon the ground, holding a vase from which issue two streams of water. In the center, back to back, are two bulls that lift up their heads to drink and with their horns ingeniously hold the inscrip- tion containing the name of Sargon; below is the conventional wavelike representation of a stream. The scene refers to water as the gift of the gods. In this seal we perceive the organi- zation of the figures into a carefully related balanced group, tied firmly together by the wave lines of the river, with pleasing contrasts of texture in both smooth and rough areas. The mod- eling, particularly in the bulls, shows a powerful naturalism and at the same time no hesitation on the part of the engraver to use conventional forms in horns, hair, and water. Upon recalling the very small curved surface upon

88

ANCIENT ART

[a] Seal of King Sargon I. 2750 b.c. Red jasper. H. in. Collection de Clercq, Paris.

[b] Harp. Reconstructed. Bull's head of gold foil and lapis lazuli with inlaid eyes. 3500-3200 b.c. University Museum, Phila- delphia:.

which the design is engraved in intaglio, we realize the extraordinary skill in carving, every line of which, strong and unfaltering, was graved by hand. Later importation of the drill brought deteri- oration in the quality of seal-cutting.

METALWORK

This amazing technical skill is also apparent in the products of the metal- workers and other craftsmen. Thanks to sumptuous royal burial equipment, al- though it involves the ghastly rite of human sacrifice, we glimpse the gor- geousness of personal adornment* the richness and at times impeccable taste in furniture, implements, and utensils.

Among the metals, copper seems to have been especially prized, and the craftsmen reveal an understanding of various processes of working it: casting, repousse, and engraving. Such figures as those in Figure 81 a were made by building up a wooden core, covering it with bitumen, in which the modeling was done, and then hammering thin plates of copper over it.

With gold the Sumerians were lavish, if we are to judge from the equipment of the Royal Tombs at Ur. Here is a Cup (Fig. 89A) of masterly proportions and

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 89

[b] Gold Helmet. 3500-3200 b.c. Baghdad Museum . (Figs. 88B-89B, Joint Expedition of British Museum and University Museum , University of Pennsylvania )

[a] Gold Cup. 3500-3200 B.c. University Museum, Phila- delphia.

strong contour, its surface hammered into flutings which emphasize both the surface direction and the contour; a delicately engraved herringbone pattern and double zigzag finish both the lip and the base. In a gold helmet (Fig. 89s) are found repoussd and en- graving of a quality hardly to be sur- passed either in technical excellence or in design. The hair is treated conven- tionally, making a beautifully varied pattern of wave lines, spiraling, and sharply angular braiding which covers the entire surface.

The combination of gold with other materials is illustrated in a harp (Fig. 88b) of wood inlaid with a geometric pattern of shell, lapis lazuli, and red stone. The sounding box terminates in a bull’s head of gold, the eyes, beard, and horn tips of which are of lapis, giv- ing a dashingly bold effect. The sloping end of the box is filled with four zones containing figures of engraved shell set in a dark ground, which represent ani- mals playing human roles.

SUMMART

The Sumerian-Semite age, culminat- ing in the first Babylonian Empire, 1 was a heroic age that is summed up in the Babylonian Gilgamesh epic. The people were farmers and traders, interested in the here and now, and they worshiped great nature gods who dwelt in their cities as god-kings. With only one plenti- ful material — ■ brick — - they built gay colorful palaces and temples, with the monumental ziggurat towering over all. Their sculpture, not abundant because of lack of stone, has great vitality. Both their statues in the round and their carved cylinder seals show a combina- tion of naturalism and convention. They were lavish in their use of gold and were expert technically in using gold, copper, lapis lazuli, and shell. Vitality perme- ates all their products, whatever the material used.

1 There is a great dearth of works of art from Babylon of the first empire, the Stele of Ham- murabi (Louvre) being the chief monument.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Palace of Sargon II. Restored. Dur-Skarrukin ( Khorsabad ). 722-705 b.c. [Place)

Assyrian Art

(ABOUT 1 000-6 12 B . C.)

T URNING to the upper Tigris- Euphrates Valley (Fig. 43 a), we find the Semite settlements of Ashur dominated by the kings of Sumer and Akkad and harassed by the tribes of the surrounding highlands, especially by the Kassites, a pre-Indo-European people from the northeastern plateaus who were drifting into the valley, bringing with them the horse (about 2000 b.c.); and by the Hittites of Anatolia, who in- vaded the valley about 1925 b.c. This latter people, but little known until re- cent times, comprised a loosely united federation of mountaineers who wor- shiped the great mother goddess. At their capital Hatti (the modern Boghaz Keui), at Carchemish, Tell Halaf, and other sites, they built massive fortress- palaces with bold architectural sculp-

ture at the entrances. 1 We see gigantic ponderous basalt statues of deities stand- ing on the backs of animals; the “Great Mother” seated on a pedestal adorned with monsters as elemental as the rock itself; reliefs of ceremonial processions and hunting scenes filled with move- ment; and over the surfaces of some of the figures, though entirely subservient to the dominating planes, plays a wealth of decorative detail. 2

At the hands of these invaders the Babylonian Empire of Hammurabi de- clined and fell. But the people of Ashur, toughened by the buffetings, gradually pushed outward to subdue, incorporate, and organize into a powerful empire,

1 Sec the Frontispiece to Max, Freiherr von Oppenheira, Der Tell Halaf, Leipzig, 1931, for a reconstruction of the palace entrance.

2 There seems to be a definite and important influence of Hittite art upon the Assyrian, in its vitality, its uses of architectural sculpture, and its composition and subject matter, the details of which are still to be worked out.

[a] Palace of Sargon II. Facade ( detail of Fig. goA ) . [Place)

centered at Nineveh, not only western Asia to the Mediterranean Sea but Baby- lonia and Egypt as well. Very quickly this empire flowered (885-6x2 b.c.), and with equal rapidity it fell in turn to new invaders, the Semitic Chaldeans from the western desert and the Ira- nians from the northeastern plateau.

The Assyrian state was essentially military. Its ferocity is reflected in the purely Assyrian sun god from whom it took its name, Ashur, a savage, aloof deity rather than a royal city dweller like the nature gods of Sumeria. There is a tingling energy about the Assyrian and a grim cruelty, whether he is fight- ing, hunting, or indulging in luxurious indolence. Tense, forceful movement, in marked constrast with the calm, re- fined monumentality of Egyptian art, characterizes the expression of the alert and warlike Assyrian.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Sumerian forms are basic in Assyria, but are adapted to meet the demands of a different type of civilization. This is clear in the buildings and their sculp- tural decorations, As for materials, stone, though near at hand, was not easily procured and hence was limited in its constructional use to foundations and substructures, but it was lavishly employed for reliefs; brick served for the superstructure. The temples follow the Sumerian type seen at Ur, with platform, open courts, and dominating ziggurat. The palace is more charac- teristically Assyrian — the here and now on a grand scale.

Sargon’s palace at Dur-Sharrukin (Khorsabad), for example, is a vast rambling structure of stone and brick

92

ANCIENT ART

[a] A Guardian of the Gate. From the palace of Ashurnasirpal II. Metro- politan Museum of Art , New York City. ( Metro- politan Museum)

covering about twenty-five acres of ground, palace and temple combined (Fig. qoa) . There are two entrances to the platform, one by a ramp for vehicles, the other by a monumental double stairway leading directly to the main entrance. A great many small rooms are grouped about two open courts: one, reached by the main entrance, a center for the affairs of state and the royal living-quarters; the other, toward the rear, for the domestic service. At the left is the temple, at the back of which rises the ziggurat.

The palace facade (Fig. 91 a) shows a massive crenelated wall broken by huge rectangular towers flanking an arched doorway, about which stand, like guardian sentinels, colossal winged bulls with human heads. Around the arch and on the towers are friezes

of brilliantly colored glazed tiles. The whole effect is sumptuous and grandly impressive. Dazzling brilliance seems to have been an objective, to judge from the words of an Assyrian king: “The splendid temple, a brilliant and mag- nificent dwelling . . . I made its interior brilliant like the dome of the heavens; decorated its walls, like the splendour of the rising stars, and made it grand with resplendent brilliancy.” 1

The colossal bulls, or lions, at the entrance (Fig. 92A) serve both to ward off enemies, visible and invisible, and to provide an impressive and fitting archi- tectural decoration. They are partly in the round and partly in high relief, and combine the front view at rest with the

• Inscription of Tiglath-Pileser I (1100 b . c .)

quoted in P. S. P. Handcock, Mesopotamian Archaeology, Putnam, 1912, p. 142.

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 93

[a] A Winged Being and the King’s Arms-bearer. From the palace of Ashurnasirpal II, Nimrud ( Kalhu ) .gthcent. b.c.

Metropolitan Museum of Art , New York City. (. Metropolitan Museum)

... ;

[b] A Median Bring- ing Horses to King Sar- gon II. 722-705 B.G. Metropolitan Museum of Art , New York City. (Metropolitan Museum)

with, lotus motifs (an influence from Egypt) and with the more characteris- tically Mesopotamian rosette and palm- ette. The brick walls were sheathed below with limestone and alabaster reliefs — literally miles of ceremonial, military, and hunting scenes arranged in zones. Above were brightly colored paintings. The reliefs of Ashurnasirpal (Fig. 93A) contain large firmly planted

side view in movement, contriving the latter by the addition of a fifth leg. Thp gigantic size, the bold vigorous carving, the fine sweep of wings, and the pattern- ing of the surface by the conventional treatment of details — all these contrib- ute to their impressiveness and archi- tectural fitness.

On the interior these palaces were paved with stone slabs (Fig. 94A) carved

94

ANCIENT ART

[a] Paving Slab from, the Palace at Nineveh. Alabaster, c. joo b.g. British Museum , London. ( Mansell )

figures which just fill the space) single figures endlessly repeated, often without defined relationships, though at times they are balanced about a tree of life. The thickset figures with carefully curled hair and beard are sheathed in heavy fringed robes and bedecked with jewelry. They stand in profile, though both shoulders are seen and the eye is front view. They are cut clearly and firmly in parallel planes with little mod- eling except in the exposed limbs, where the exaggerated muscles form a vigorous pattern. Details are engraved rather than modeled, and inscriptions are cut across both background and figure. Something clear, definite, and majestic imbues these quiet colossal figures.

In the age of Sargon II and Sennach- erib the relief is higher (Fig. 93B), more rounding, with a tendency toward nat- uralism. (Contrast the servant’s hand with those in Fig. 93A.) In this design the

figures overlap, are composed into a unit, become pictorial with landscape setting and movement, and reveal a greater interest in narration than in decoration. There is more modeling, especially in the horses’ heads, and a beautifully varied patterning of the sur- face through differing conventions used for mane, trappings, hair, and cloak.

In Ashurbanipal’s palace are many banquet and hunting scenes, and though the wall as a whole suggests episodes rather than decorations, there are some magnificent expressions of animal life. Hunting was one of the chief pastimes of the Assyrian. On horseback, in char- iot, and with hunting dogs, he sought the wild asses on the plateau, or — the most-prized prey — the lion. In Figure 95B the king, mounted, is spearing one lion; another lion, wounded, fiercely attacks a riderless horse. These friezes express movement and intense vitality.

art IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA

a] Bronze Bowl. 8th

ml. B.G. British Mu -

mm, London.

most contains gazelles moving to the right; the middle, various animals with the direction of movement uncertain; the outer, bulls moving toward the left. The figures are naturalistically con- ceived, and have conventional details such as manes and wings. The effect is highly decorative, and in no small meas- ure reminiscent of the Sumerian animal friezes.

METALWORK

Among the craftsmen of Nineveh, the metalworker had skill in handling and designing his material, if we are to judge from a shallow bronze bowl decorated in repoussd with concentric rows of ani- mals about a central rosette (Fig. 95 a). One notes here a pleasing gradation in scale in the three borders. The inner-

King Ashurbanipal Hunting Lions. 668-626 b.c. British Museum , London. I m Museum, Mew York City) r , .. .

[a] Ishtar Gate. Restored. Babylon. 0o6-jjg b.c. ( Koldewey )

ANCIENT ART

SUMMARY

In Assyria we find an architecture of worldly magnificence — huge palaces of innumerable rooms around open courts. They are built of stone and brick with flashing surfaces of brilliantly colored tile, and have colossal, grandly impres- sive sculpture at the doorways. On the interior walls are seen an endless suc- cession of reliefs picturing incidents of war, the hunt, and a luxurious life — a grandiloquent repetition of scenes to satisfy the vanity of the monarch. It is a grimly realistic, though stylized, art, teeming with movement and vitality, as forceful as its creators were ener- getic, especially in the depiction of ani- mal life. Here are not the static ele- gance, the abstractions, the sensitivity to relationships, found in Egyptian art, but a brusque power in expressing . everyday events, many of them violent, lived and perceived intensely; and often in a form that is architecturally fitting.

Chaldean

or Neo-Babylonian Art

(612-539 B.C.)

AT the fall of Nineveh, two kingdoms jL~\ were established, the Chaldean in tire south, and the Medo-Persian on the eastern plateaus. Nebuchadnezzar, the Chaldean, built Babylon anew so that it surpassed Nineveh in the splendor of its palaces, temples, and Hanging Gar- dens. This is the Babylon of which the Greek traveler Herodotus wrote, and the city of the Hebrew captivity. Com- merce and business flourished. The sci- ence of astronomy made advances. The Chaldeans divided the circle into 360 degrees, laid out the signs of the zodiac, and knew at least five planets. But the power and magnificence of Chaldean Babylon was short-lived, for in 539 b.c. it opened its gates to Cyrus the Persian.

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 97

[a] Lion of Procession Street. Restored. Glazed tile. Babylon. L. 7 ft. 606-539 b.c. (Stoedtner)

ARCHITECTURE

Until recently nothing but a mound marked the traditional site of Babylon. Among the buildings since excavated the Ishtar Gate (Fig. 96A) illustrates best the chief contribution of the Chaldean builder — ceramic architectural decora- tion. The general design of the gate, which is double, conforms to the types we have found in Sumeria and Assyria. Glazed tile we found in the shrine on the summit of the ziggurat at Ur. At Khorsabad its use had been extended widely, but the surface of the bricks, even when figure work was used, was flat. The Chaldean builders added re- lief. On the Ishtar Gate> for example, rose, forty feet above the pavement, tier after tier of animals in relief in brilliant enameled tile. From the Ishtar Gate to the Temple of Mar duk led the Procession Street, along which processions passed on festal days. The walls bordering this street were decorated with sixty huge

lions (sacred to Ishtar) molded in relief and glazed in white and yellow or yellow and red against a ground of turquoise or dark-blue, with the usual rosette motif in the border (Fig. 97 a).

Near the Ishtar Gate rose the huge Palace of Nebuchadnezzar with its terraced gardens, and at no great distance the great ziggurat of the Temple of Mar duk (the “Tower of Babel”) with its Hang- ing Gardens. Indeed this main gateway of Chaldean Babylon, together with the adjacent palaces and temples with their brilliant gleaming surfaces flashing in the sunshine of rich tropical gardens, must have impressed those who saw it with their gorgeous magnificence . 1

1 The process of making enameled reliefs is not known. The enamels used by the Chaldeans are opaque and hard, and indicate great ability on the part of the craftsmen to keep the colors from flowing into each other. Probably each brick was molded and enameled separately ac- cording to its place in the design. See Koldewey and Andrae on this (bibliography at the end of this chapter).

ANCIEN r J

T

[a] Stairway to the Royal Audience Hall, Persepolis. ( Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

Achaemenian Persian Art

(539-331 B.C.)

T HE end of the Assyrian power and the establishment of the Chaldean had been brought about by the com- bined efforts of the Semitic Chaldeans and the Medo-Persians — Iranian (a branch of the Indo-European) peoples who had migrated from the northern grasslands and gradually built up an empire on the mountainous plateaus 1

1 We know almost nothing of the peoples of this plateau before the Persian flowering in the sixth and fifth centuries b.c. From the time of the Stone Age village of about 4000 b.c., with its remarkable painted pottery, recently discovered by the Oriental Institute of the Uni- versity of Chicago, to the time of the Achae- menidae there is almost a complete gap, which current expeditions hope to fill.

east of the Tigris-Euphrates Valley. The Medo-Persians appear to have brought with them a conception of re- ligion formulated by their great prophet Zoroaster (Zarathustra), which recog- nized the conflict of Good (Ahura- mazda, Ormazd) and Evil (Ahriman), the ethical value of right conduct, and the final triumph of good.

About 550 b.c. Cyrus, a Persian vassal of the Median Empire, threw off the yoke and with his powerful archers and daring horsemen swept over western Asia, swiftly conquering from the Per- sian Gulf to the Mediterranean Sea. Before his armies Babylon fell in 539 b.c. Still further conquest added Egypt to the Persian Empire, which was thor- oughly organized and enjoyed a re- markable period of prosperity under Darius. It was a humane, intelligent rule, though no rights of citizenship

art IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 99

[a] Subjects Bringing Gifts of Animals, Spears, and Vessels to the King. Detail from the stairway to the royal Audience Hall, Persepolis. ( Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

were extended to the people. The king’s word was the one law. Though the earlier emperors were rulers with a con- science and a feeling of responsibility for their rule, their followers became luxurious Oriental despots. Decline set in, and the decadent state fell before the armies of Alexander the Great in 33 1 B - G -

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

The present chief source of our knowl- edge of Achaemenian building is Per- sepolis 1 (Fig. 43 a), apparently a royal

1 Persepolis is now being excavated and restored by the Oriental Institute of the Uni- versity of Chicago. See Asia, September-Octo- ber, 1933 and National Geographic Magazine, October, 1933, for excellent illustrations.

suburb of the Persian capital, built chiefly by Darius and Xerxes. Upon a huge platform stood a group of palaces and audience halls approached by a great double stairway, with an entrance flanked by colossal human-headed bulls. Stone was plentiful in this mountainous country. Hence the platform, the great monumental stairways with their thou- sands of feet of carvings, the gateways, and the columns of the great audience halls were of stone, though brick was used in walls and wooden lintels for roofing. The most noticeable thing — not found in the architecture of the val- ley and sharply differentiating Persepo- lis from Khorsabad — is the use of the column on a grand scale. The audience hall {apadana) is a characteristic build- ing, a vast hall filled with columns to hold the roof, built on a terrace, and

100

ANCIENT ART

[a] Capital from the Palace of Artaxerxes at Susa. H. of column c. 6 y ft. Louvre, Paris.

( Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago)

approached, as was the entire Persepolis group, by a broad monumental stair- way (Fig. 98 a) . In the hall the king held audience, surrounded by his bodyguard and court, receiving both local subjects and representatives from the vast Per- sian Empire, who are pictured in the reliefs on the stairway (Figs. 98A, 99A). The total impression is one of magnifi- cent, stately ceremonial. The slender fluted columns are peculiarly Achae- menian; the Iranian love of the animal figure, in whole or in part, as a decora- tive motif, is illustrated in the capitals, which are composed of the foreparts of two bulls placed back to back above a group of volutes (Fig. 1 ooa) . The wooden lintels were covered with brilliant color and gold, and the walls sheathed with enameled tiles.

How many of these forms the Persian possessed before the building of Per- sepolis we do not now know. He seems

to have appropriated motifs and forms from the various peoples with whom his conquests brought him in contact: from Babylonia and Assyria, from Ionia and Egypt. Yet so thoroughly adapted are these forms that the Hall of One Hundred Columns of Xerxes, for example, is an entirely different entity from the Hypo- style Hall at Karnak.

Sculptured friezes play an important part at Persepolis for both decorative and narrative purposes. The spacious double stairways which formed so im- pressive an approach to the audience halls were decorated with friezes and panels in low relief, separated by mold- ings and finished with crenelations. Figure 99 a shows a detail of the great procession of royal guards and repre- sentatives of various parts of the empire bringing tribute and gifts to the king. The evenly spaced single figures, broken into groups by conventionalized trees and varied by the occasional use of ani- mal forms, have the decorative quality of the Sumerian (Fig. 84A) and the early Assyrian (Fig. 93A). Tire accomplished cutting of the stone, both in the suavely rounding surfaces and in the crisply chiseled details, is in itself an element of beauty. About all these sculptures, aside from their decorative and narra- tive elements, there is a serenity, a something apart from reality, quite dis- tinct in feeling from the dynamic natu- ralism of the Assyrian, which may be, as M. Grousset has suggested, a reflec- tion of the “abstract spiritualism” of the Iranian faith.

METALWORK

The Iranians, like other members of this group of civilizations, were skilled metalworkers. They excelled in gold, to judge from an armlet (Fig. 102 a) whose decoration consists of two winged monsters, the bodies and hind legs of which are indicated in relief; the wings,

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA ioi

[a] Bronze Rod-holder. From Luristan. L.

in. yth to 5th cent. b.c. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. {Boston Museum)

[b] Winged Ibex Vase Handle , Silver. Achaemenid Persian. PI. c. io in. Berlin. {Iranian Institute , New York City)

breasts, and necks are covered with cloisons that were once filled with col- ored stones cut to fit the depressions. The animal forms are highly conven- tionalized, so that their simplified out- line forms a bold, vigorous design peculiarly fitted to the medium.

In some of the Luristan bronzes 1 also we find a vivid grasp of the essentials of an object expressed by means of con-

1 A great number of small objects made of several kinds of bronze have been excavated recently in the mountains of Luristan, a province of western Persia near Kermanshah. Though they include objects of personal adornment such as long pins, weapons, and ceremonial objects, a great number are from harnesses and chariots. Scholars differ widely as to their dates.

ventions that are extraordinarily dec- orative. In Figure ioia notice how a rhythmic movement is carried by the circle motif. The small circles in the terminals of the tails expand into those formed by the wings, and then into the. slightly elliptical shape made by the long necks, which terminate in serpent heads. Other examples of Iranian metal- work display a vivid naturalism, as in the Winged Ibex Handle (Fig. ioib).

At this point it may be well at least to mention the highly important metal- work of such nomadic peoples as the Sarmatians and the Scythians, who roamed the steppes of central Eurasia. It shows an affinity with Sumerian and Persian art, and may have a common

102

ANCIENT ART

[a] Armlet. Gold. H. 5 in. c. 400 b.c. British Museum, London. [Dalton)

dance. Interlocking fighting animals (Fig. 1 02B), objects terminating in ani- mal heads, and fantastic figures com- posed of parts of different animals were used repeatedly. Color was sometimes added by the use of enamel or cut stones. “Their art,” says Roger Fry, “is the exact antithesis to a descriptive art. Itwas not by cataloguing the observable facts about an animal that they pro- ceeded, but by some intimate intuition of what might be called the dominant rhythmic character of the beast.” No other people “has had so intimate a feeling for the rhythms of the living animal; none has known as they did how to reduce the complexity of natural form to so simple and yet vital a state- ment .” 1

[b] Sarmatian Gold Ornament , Lion- griffin killing a horse. From Siberia. Her- mitage, Leningrad. (M. I. Rostovtzeff, The Animal Style in South Russia and China, Princeton University Press )

origin with them. Over this vast area extended, after Neolithic times, a cul- ture whose great vitality found expres- sion in a style of equal vitality and of extraordinary esthetic excellence. It was an art confined to the making and em- bellishing of objects of everyday life among nomadic hunters, and its chief theme was the animal figure. The ma- terials were mostly bronze and gold, which local mines provided in abun-

SUMMART

Achaemenian art was a kingly art of great splendor — splendor of scale, of materials, and particularly of color. Its most important buildings of stone, brick, and tile were built to house in befitting magnificence a thoroughly human — though absolute — monarch. Spacious stone stairways with elaborate carvings and forests of decorative stone columns combined to give this regal impression. The sculptured friezes of Persepolis re- veal accomplished stonecutting and great decorative beauty and are per- meated with a feeling of serenity in contrast to the greater intensity of the Assyrian. The Iranians were also skill- ful in gold, silver, and bronze metal- work, in which they made great use of the animal form, at times rendering it

1 The Arts of Painting and Sculpture, London, 1932, p. 66. This art — its origin and its re- lationship with Sumerian, Persian, Greek, Far Eastern, and west-European art — has recently been the subject of much scholarly research, and the term Urasian animal art is now being ap- plied to it. See Michael Ivanovich Rostovtzeff, The Animal Style in South Russia and China , Prince- ton University Press, 1929, pp. 100-06.

ART IN THE TIGRIS-EUPHRATES VALLEY, PERSIA 103

quite naturalistically and at times, es- pecially in the Luristan bronzes, giving

it a highly conventional form.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Andrae, Walter, Coloured Ceramics from Ashur, and Earlier Ancient Assyrian Wall-Paintings , London, 1925

Baikie, James, The Glamour of Near East Excava- tion, Lippincott, 1928

— The Life of the Ancient East, Mac- millan, 1923

Breasted, James H., Ancient Times, 2d ed. rev., Ginn, 1935

Childe, Vere G., The Most Ancient East, Knopf,

1929

Cossfo, Manuel Bartolome, and Pijoetn, Jose,, Summa Artis , Vols. I-X, Madrid, 1931-46, Vol. II

Encyclopedic photographique de Pari, Vols. I— III, Paris, Edition “Tel,” 1935-38: Vols. I— II

Gadd, Cyril J., History and Monuments of Ur, Dutton, 1929

Garstang, John, The Hittite Empire, Long & Smith, 1929

Grousset, Rene, The Civilizations of the East, tr. by C. A. Phillips, 4 vols., Knopf, 1 931-34: Vol. I

Hall, Harry R. H., The Ancient History of the Near East, 8th ed. rev., Macmillan, 1932

— La sculpture babylonienne et assyrienne

au British museum, Paris, 1 928 Handcock, Perry S. P,, Mesopotamian Archaeology, Putnam, 1912

Harcourt-Smith, Simon, Babylonian Art , London, 1928

Jastrow, Morris, The Civilization of Babylonia and Assyria, Lippincott, 1915 Koldewey, Robert, The Excavations at Babylon , Macmillan, 1914

Martin, Richard A., Ancient Seals of the Near East, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1940 Pottier, Edmond, Tart hittite, 2 pts. in 1 vol., Paris, 1926-31

RostovtzefF, Michael Ivanovich, The Animal Style in South Russia and China, Princeton Uni- versity Press, 1929

Sarre, Friedrich P. T. a Lie Kunst des alien Persian, Berlin, 1922

Schafer, Heinrich, and Andrae, Walter, Die Kunst des alien Orients, Berlin, 1925 Woolley, Sir Charles Leonard, Dead Towns and Living Men, rev. ed., Oxford University Press, 1929

— The Development of Sumerian Art,

Scribner, 1935

- — : — — ; The Sumerians, Oxford University Press, 1928

Ur of the Chaldees, Scribner, 1930

Zervos, Christian, L'art de la Mesopotamia, Weyhe, 1935

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92

5

AEGEAN ART

(ABOUT 3OOO-HOO B.C.)

O NE of the important legends of the Greek peoples was that of King Mirtos. So important was it that, like many legends, it seems to be based on a kernel of historical truth. Before the year 1900, however, nothing had been found to substantiate the story. Al- ready Heinrich Schliemann had proved that the Homeric tales of Troy were based on historical fact. As a child Schliemann had been told the story of the Trojan War and of the great walls that protected the ancient city; and in spite of opposition he strongly main- tained his belief that those walls must still be standing. Not until middle life, however, when he had finally amassed a fortune, was he free to follow his dream. He then went to the locality which his knowledge of the Iliad led him to believe was the site of Troy, and there found nine cities built one on the remains of another. There were ancient walls and signs of a great conflagration, and Schliemann proclaimed that he had found the actual city. Subsequent exca- vations proved that the site was correct. He continued his excavating at My- cenae, whence sailed the proud chief- tains to avenge the capture of Helen, and his success was even more star-

tling. Massive fortress-palaces, elabo- rate tombs, great quantities of gold jewelry and ornaments, cups, and in- laid weapons — all revealed a pre-Hel- lenic civilization of high culture and wide extent that is now called My- cenaean.

But Mycenae, after all, did not prove to have been its center. Sir Arthur Evans had long considered Crete a po- tentially fertile field for investigation. Under Turkish rule excavation was im- possible, but when in 1898 Crete was free from the Turkish regime the oppor- tunity came, and about 1900 work be- gan. In a short time, Evans’s faith was rewarded far beyond his expectations. His spade did not dig very deep before it uncovered the palaces of the old kings. Sea kings they were. No fortified walls protected their palaces, for the broad reaches of water around their island served in the place of walls. Their ships plied to the three continents to which their island was gateway (Figs. 43 a, 1 2 1 a ) . Of these sea kings, whose power extended over the islands of the Aegean and over parts of the mainland, the greatest was Minos.

It was a proud people who ruled from these luxurious palaces, to judge from

AEGEAN ART

105

[a] Palace of Minos. Knossos. Colonnaded hall . Restored, c. 1500 b.c. (Evans)

The Prince (Fig. 107B), an alertly alive athletic figure. It was also a gay people, fond of festivals and the circus (Fig. x 09A) . All their art is permeated with an aliveness quite distinct from the grave sobriety of Egyptian art — except for the work of the Amarna artists, with which it has an affinity of style.

Who were the people who developed this civilization, 1 * * * the first on the north- ern side of the Mediterranean Sea? We do not know their origin. In Neolithic times they were there. Early they had

1 Several names are used for this civilization, “Aegean” being the most inclusive. It is fre- quently called “Minoan,” after its most famous king and most brilliant age, though strictly speaking the term is anachronistic if used before

1500 b.c. At present there seems to be a tendency

to apply “Cretan” or “Minoan” to that aspect

of the civilization which definitely belongs to the island of Crete, “Helladic” to that of the

mainland, and “Cycladic” to that of the islands.

bronze and a system of writing, not yet deciphered. The climate of Crete is mild and sunny but, though the winter rains make production easy in the fertile places, the land is not primarily agri- cultural. Its location in the Mediter- ranean makes it the gateway to three continents. Thus the Cretans became a seafaring people, traders and colonizers, bartering their own wares, notably their pottery and metalwork, around the Aegean, in Asia, and in Egypt, where — to judge from the number of representa- tions of it in Egyptian tomb paintings — their pottery seems to have been popu- lar. Their religion consisted of nature worship with rites performed not in great temples but, though sometimes be- fore little shrines in the palaces, chiefly in caves, gorges, and groves. “Spiritual devotion in such surroundings, 5 ’ Mr. Forsdyke suggests, “must have led . . .

io6 ANCIENT ART

[a] Palace of Minos. Knossos. Plan of the domestic quarter , with dotted lines to indicate the drainage system, ( British School Annual )

to an intimate and emotional under- standing of life and beauty in all the works of nature.” 1

At the time of its climax, under King Minos, the Cretan civilization had spread to neighboring islands and to the mainland, to Mycenae, Tiryns, and Troy, where, however, conditions were somewhat different from those on the island. Warlike Achaean Greek nomads were beginning to filter in, which neces- sitated fortifications. As the invaders be- came more numerous and more power- ful, there was a restless shifting about, with frequent conflicts between the bar- barian invaders and the inhabitants. Such a conflict we see in the Homeric tale of the siege of Troy. Finally, the last great wave of invaders, known as the Doric Greeks, swept across to Crete, burned Minos’s palace at Knossos, and

1 E. J. Forsdyke, Minoan Art, Oxford Univer-

sity Press, 1931, p. 29.

by 1 100 b.g. had taken possession of the Aegean world. The Cretan culture, already giving evidence of decay, con- tinued for some time, and made definite and valuable contributions to the second civilization to arise in historical times in Europe — the Hellenic. 2

ARCHITECTURE AND PAINTING

The demands for building were simple and limited. There was no de- mand in Crete for tombs, temples, halls of justice, nor even for fortresses. Only a palace for the king and his retainers was necessary — one that was large, comfortable, gay, with ample staircases and courtyards for pageants and shows. Such was the Palace at Knossos (Fig. 1 o 6 a) , a large rambling structure built around open courts. There were gaily decorated living-rooms of all kinds; bathrooms, and a drainage system; audience halls with finely paved floors; workshops and long corridors which led to magazines where, in huge jars, were stored wine, oil, grain, and honey. Everything spoke of luxury, wealth, and splendor : gold cups and ornaments; pottery cups of eggshell thinness; a gaming-board glit- tering with gold, silver, ivory, and blue enamel.

At several points in the palace fine broad stairways led to upper stories; for the building was set on a hillside and in some places was several stories high. In the colonnaded hall (Fig. 105 a) we see one of these stairways. The foundation and the lower parts of the building were

2 The history of Crete falls into three divi- sions: Early Minoan (about 3500 to 2200 b.c.), Middle Minoan (2200-1600 b.g.), and Late Minoan (1600-1100 b.c.). In the early part of the Late Minoan occurred the reign of King Minos (about 1500 b.c.). The Homeric age, so called because it is described in the Homeric poems, which were written much later, includes the period of the great migrations and conflicts from about 1350 to 1100 b.c.

AEGEAN ART

[ b ] A Prince or Priest-King. Painted relief . Restored. From Palace at Knoss os. c. 1500 b.g. Candia Museum. (Figs, io'ja and B, Metropolitan Museum , Mew York)

[aJ Cupbearer. Fresco from Knossos. H. c. 5 ft. c. 1500 b.g. Candia Museum.

built of huge, finely cut blocks of stone, but the columns were of wood. Each column has a small circular base, Carries a cushionlike capital with a square block to support the lintel, and tapers toward the base — a curious fact, not yet satisfactorily explained, but charac- teristic of Aegean column construction (Figs. io8a, 1 1 2 b ) . Both columns and walls were painted brightly.

Painting was mural decoration, and the chief decorative element of the pal-

aces. Its subject matter was Cretan life: bullfights, processionals and ceremoni- als, many scenes from nature, birds, animals, flowers, fish and sea life. Tech- nically these paintings are fresco. A tall slender Cupbearer (Fig. 107A), one of a procession of youths, is holding a gold- mounted silver vase. He has long curly hair, wears an elaborately embroidered loincloth with a silver-mounted girdle, and has silver ornaments on his arms, neck, and ankles; on his wrist is an

ANCIENT ART

[a] Temple Fresco. Restored. From a small sanctuary in the Palace at Knossos. c. 1600 b.g.

agate seal. The pinched waist, the rea- son for which we do not know, is char- acteristic of both the men and the women of Crete. The effect of the pro- cession must have been highly dec- orative, as the dark figures 1 moved rhythmically against the flat ground broken into wavy bands. Although, as in Egyptian painting, the flat tones serve the purpose of decoration, still the youth standing so erect, with shoul- ders thrown far back, is not cold, formal, and conventional, but full of life and keenly conscious of the pride of his race and the nobility of the ceremony that he is performing. In The Prince (Fig. 1 07B) there is more movement, and the ground is broken by areas with lilies, now dark against light, now light against dark. This figure is partly modeled in relief,

1 As in Egypt, male figures are painted red and female figures yellow.

and the drawing, while resembling the Egyptian, is filled with elasticity and individuality, which one sees also in the Head of a Young Girl, jaunty and piquant with her large eye, individual profile, rouged lips, and gay, beribboned dress.

This vivacity and spontaneity are seen also in the Temple Frescoes 2 (Fig. 1 o8a) , in which crowds are massed about a shrine as if attending some ceremonial or show. Over large washes of red, in- dicating men, heads are outlined in black with white collars and white eyes, producing a very convincing impression of a crowd. In contrast to the crowd rep- resented by this “shorthand” method, on each side of the shrine are groups of

2 Also called Miniature Frescoes because of their small scale, which was necessitated by the size of the room, about 6 by 15 feet. A dado fills the lower part of the wall, with the frescoes above on the eye level.

[a] Toreador Scene. Fresco, c. 1500 b.c. Candia Museum. (Metropolitan Museum, New fork City)

ladies, with the entire figure painted in detail. Their elaborate dresses with flounced skirts and tight bodices are painted in bright colors, and the effect of their holding a spirited conversation is heightened by gestures.

The Toreador Scene (Fig. 1 oqa) shows how well these painters could represent a dramatic moment, fill it with spirit, with instantaneous poses, and still, as it were, keep it on the wall. Here the re- markable vivacity and the decorative quality are both made effective by the long sweeping curves in the body of

the bull combined with the S-curves in the horns and tail and in the vaulting youth, and by the vivid patterning of the surface.

In the nature scenes one finds not only understanding but a profound love of nature and a high degree of imagina- tion and spontaneity in representing it. In the Flying Fish Fresco (Fig. 109B) the impression is of an easy swinging move- ment and countermovement combined with a short quick rhythm in the rocks and the edges of the fins, like surging waves which break in light crests: an

AEGEAN ART

[b] Flying Fish Fresco. Candia Museum. (Metro- politan Museum, New Fork City)

no

ANCIENT ART

impression of blues, yellows, browns, definitely and happily distributed over a flat surface.

As we pass from Crete to the main- land, we notice that the gay, open pal- ace has given way to a more somber, compact, massive fortress-palace, often

built on a hilltop. At Tiryns, for ex- ample, the walls are twenty feet thick, built of unhewn or roughly dressed stone, called “Cyclopean walls by the later Greeks. Through them, at inter- vals, run corbeled galleries (Fig. iioa). The nucleus of the palace, a hall of state

AEGEAN ART

hi

[a] Frieze. Of alabaster with blue glass inlay. Tiryns. Thought to be a prototype of the Doric frieze of triglyphs and metopes (Fig. 125 A a). (See note 7, page 126.)

known as a me gar on, was a rectangular room with a hearth in the center, around which were four columns to support the roof; at the entrance were a vestibule and a porch. In all these changes from the Cretan palace are re- flected a colder climate and another race, the invaders from the North.

The sternness of these fortress-palaces is relieved by frescoes similar to the Cretan, by carvings (Figs. 1 1 ia and b), and, at Mycenae at least, by monu- mental architectural sculpture. At this fortress-palace the stone in the walls about the entrance is more finely cut than elsewhere in the structure. The door itself is formed of two great pillars capped with a huge lintel, above which the layers of stone are not solid, but by forming a corbeled arch leave a tri- angular opening to relieve the weight on the lintel. This space is filled with a slab on which are carved in high relief the two lions from which the gate is named (Fig. i i 2 b). The lions stand in a balanced position on either side of a shaft on the base of which they rest their forepaws. Holes near the top in- dicate that the heads, now lost, were made of separate pieces of stone or metal. Groups similar to this are seen on Cretan seals and probably constitute a heraldic device. The lions are carved with breadth and vigor, and the whole design admirably fills the triangular space in which it is placed, harmonizing

in dignity, strength, and scale with the massive stones that form the walls and the gate. In its visual as well as its func- tional effectiveness it seems to partake of the spirit of the warring Agamemnon and Menelaus.

Another type of building found on the mainland was the so-called beehive tomb. When first discovered, it was thought these structures were store-

[b] Fragment of a Tomb Ceiling. Carved green schist. Orchomenos. (Journal Hellenic Studies ) Compare, for decorative motifs , Figs. 77a and 94.A.

1 12

ANCIENT ART

[a] Head of a Bull. Painted clay relief. L. 26 in. Candia Museum. (. Metropolitan Museum , New Turk City )

houses for treasure; hence the most important is known as the Treasury of Aireus (Fig. 1 iob) . Probably for the sake of protection, it was built into the hill and approached by a long passage cut through the side. Its beehive shape is formed by corbeling courses of stone laid on a circular base. The small rec- tangular chamber at the side is hewn from the rock. Frequent holes in the in-

terior seem to indicate that decorations, such as bronze rosettes, were affixed. In the monumental entrance we find the same combination of lintel and cor- beled-arch construction as in the Lion Gate. Among the motifs of decoration, we see on the column the chevron; on the bands above, the spiral, rosette, and palmette. The columns here, as at Knos- sos, taper toward the base.

[b] Lion Gate. My- cenae. Probably late Mi - noan.

AEGEAN ART

JI 3

[a] Girl in a Swing. Clay painted. H. 5^ in. c. 1600 b.g. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (. Metropolitan Museum)

SCULPTURE

Sculpture in the round, judging from the small amount extant, seems not to have interested the Aegean peoples. Per-

haps the chief examples are the figur- [ B ] Snake Goddess. Gold and ivory. H.

ines of ivory, usually combined with 6k in. c. 1500 b.g. Museum of Fine Arts ,

gold, best illustrated by the Snake Goddess 1 Boston. ( Boston Museum)

(Fig. 1 1 3B) . On her head is an elaborate

coronet, the holes in which indicate gold attachments — probably ornaments and the usual curls. The flounces of her skirt are banded with gold and her out- stretched hands hold two gold snakes that coil about her arms. Like the Cup- bearer, she stands proudly erect with shoulders thrown back, firmly grasping the snakes, a forceful figure based upon

1 A possible companion figure, the Divine Boy, has many parallel characteristics, and may in- dicate that both figures belonged to a shrine group. For this see Sir A. J. Evans, The Palace of Minos, Vols. I-IV, Macmillan, 1921-35, Vol. Ill, pp. 436 ff.

a strong curve in the back and the vig- orous diagonals in the arms. Mention should be made of the clay figurines of Cretan ladies, simply and sketchily molded and gaily glazed, which show such an intelligent feeling for material; and of the Girl in a Swing (Fig. 1 1 3A) , in which one discerns a peculiar sensitivity for clay as the medium for a summary momentary expression.

Sculpture in relief appears frequently in stone, clay, and various metals. The Head of a Bull (Fig. 112A), probably a fragment from a bullfighting scene,

ANCIENT ART

114

[a] Kamares Vase. From Knossos. H. c. 9 in. 2000-1800 b.c. Candia Museum. (. Metropolitan Museum, New York City )

gives one a vital impression of an en- raged animal; a small steatite vase, the Harvester Vase (Fig. 11 6 a), furnishes an equally vital impression of a riotous crowd and one perfectly in unison with a curving surface of stone. A crowd of harvesters singing and shouting follow a figure carrying a rattle. Their forward movement and lusty exuberance are ex- pressed with direct forcefulness. Pitch- forks — long, straight, and carved in low relief — fill the upper part of the band; the figures, in higher relief, fill the lower. Thus is created a variation in texture and in design that is pleasing to the touch as well as to the eye, and the entire design hugs the surface so tightly that it seems to be an integral part of the wall of the vase.

The same kind of virtuoso miniature carving is found in the Cretan seals, which are not of the cylinder type like the Babylonian, but are settings in rings and bracelets with the design cut in in- taglio. A variety of hard stones of vari- ous colors were used and a variety of subject matter — often with heraldic significance. The animal subjects are noteworthy for their vivacious life and beauty of composition and carving.

[b] Octopus Jar. H. c. 8 in. 1600-1900 b.c. Candia Museum. ( Metropolitan Mu- seum, New York City)

POTTERY, METALWORK

Among the craftsmen of Crete the potter was of special consequence, and his wares were important articles of commerce. In the early Kamares Ware 1 (Fig. 1 1 4 a) we find a robust shape with a lustrous black ground on which is a quasi-geometric pattern of creamy white interspersed with yellow and red, forming a brilliant and harmonious piece of decoration. As time went on, the tendency of the potters was away from geometric and conventional de- sign toward the naturalistic, with dec- orative motifs taken from their own immediate world of nature. Sea life, for example, furnished decorative mo- tifs: dolphins and seaweed, fish nets, or the octopus. On ajar decorated with an octopus (Fig. ii 4 b), the tentacles reaching out over the curving surfaces make one particularly aware of the volume of the vase. From the land, crocuses, irises, lilies, reeds, and grasses present to the artist’s seeing eye patterns which have all the reality of nature and

1 1 So called from the cave on Mt. Ida where a large number of examples have been found.

AEGEAN ART

[a] Palace Style Vase. H. c. 30 in. 1300- [b] Palace Style Vase. 1600-1300 b.c.

1330 b.c. National Museum, Athens. {Metro- ( Seager )

politan Museum, New York City)

at the same time maintain the surface continuity of the wall of ajar.

Among the large jars called Palace Style , because many have been found at Knossos and appear to belong to the period of its most splendid development, that represented in Figure 1 15A has an interesting design of skillfully interlaced birds combined with concentric bands and spirals, painted with a bold sweep of line. Areas of light and dark are broken here and there by a patterning of dots and wave lines, every part mov- ing in unison with the curving surface. In Figure 11 5B, the double-ax motive plays through the design — in the shape of the handles, in the spaces between the handles and between the horns of the ox, on the rim, and on the foot. It probably has some religious signifi- cance, and the vase may have been used for ceremonial purposes. Notice the nat-

uralistic sprays of olive in the midst of an otherwise conventional design.

Another craftsman of great impor- tance was the goldsmith, who fashioned jewelry of gold leaf which exhibits the charming naturalness of all Minoan work. Among his creations were orna- mental disks with sensitively fitted spi- rals and with patterns derived from the butterfly and the octopus; masks, whose function is uncertain; and, particularly, a variety of cups decorated in repousse with designs of sea plants, octopuses, arid human and animal figures.

The Vaphio Cups 1 (Fig. 1 1 7 a ) are nota- ble examples of this type of cup . They are a pair of teacup shape, each made of two plates of gold, one of which was worked in repousse to decorate the outside, the

1 So called because they were found in a grave at Vaphio in Laconia.

ANCIENT ART

116

[a] Harvester Vase. Restored. Black stea- tite. W. c. 4 in. c. 1500 b.c. Candia Mu- seum. {Metropolitan Museum^ New York City)

other left plain to make a smooth finish on the inside. The plates were then fas- tened together and the handles riveted on; some of the details were engraved. On one cup is a bull-hunting scene filled with the greatest movement. In the center is a bull caught in the meshes of a net. A second bull, charging furi- ously, impales with his horns a hunter whose companion falls to one side. A third bull dashes madly from the fracas. On the other cup is a quiet scene, possibly representing bull-hunting by means of a decoy cow. At the right a peaceful bull has been attracted, and moves toward the cow; in the center he stands beside her; at the left the same bull, captured and hobbled by the trapper, is bellowing in anger. The

three scenes are well united by the trees and the trapper, and the whole design is admirably composed to fit the space. In both cups, the spaces not filled by the animal and human figures contain landscape details of trees and rocks in the same style as is seen in the paint- ings. Depth is indicated by placing the farther object above the nearer, as in the trees holding the net. The lowness of the relief and the conventional treat- ment of the trees produce a rich play of light and shade, together with vary- ing areas of smooth and rough textures.

Skill in a different kind of metalwork- ing is seen in Cretan damascened dagger blades, in which the figures are inlaid on the bronze in gold, electrum, and some black substance. On one blade is repre- sented a lion hunt, in which the bodies of the fleeing animals, elongated as if to accentuate their rapid movement, fit marvelously into the tapering shape.

SUMMARY

In Aegean art, notably in that of Crete, we find nothing of the quiet, somber dignity found in Egyptian art or of the dim mysteriousness of the Egyptian temple, but a style directly expressive of a democratic people in- timate with nature. It is a refreshing, sprightly art, imaginative and natural- istic rather than abstract. Its restlessness and movement reflect an exuberance of body and mind. The adventures of the Cretans on the sea were equaled by the love of pleasure at home to which their palaces bear witness. These palaces with their equipment and articles of personal adornment constitute practically the en- tire Cretan art expression, except for similar articles made for trading. They were equipped comfortably, even lux- uriously, and their walls were gay with frescoes which picture life on land and on sea, and decorate as well. The un- ceasing variety in Aegean pottery and

AEGEAN ART

117

[a] Vaphio Cups. Gold. H. 3% in. 1600-1300 b.c. {National Museum, Athens)

paintings (contrast the unceasing repe- titions in Egypt and Assyria), the vi- vacity and oddity of their color relations, reflect the eagerness, restlessness, and adventuresomeness of the Cretan sea kings; and the magnificence of their metalwork is witness that the.^descrip- tions in Homer of the shield of Achilles and the house of Alcinoiis were based not upon imagination, but upon the actual appearance of the civilization which they reflect.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baikie, James, The Sea-Kings of Crete, 3d ed., Macmillan, 1920

Bell, Edward, Prehellenic Architecture in the Aegean, London, 1926

Bossert, Helmuth T., Altkreta, 3d ed. enl., Berlin, 1937

Breasted, James H., Ancient Times, 2d ed. rev., Ginn, 1935 . . ■ ■ . .

Burrows, Ronald M., The Discoveries m Crete, 2d ed., Dutton, 1908

Buschor, Ernst, Greek Vase-Painting, tr. by G. G. Richards, Dutton, 1922

Evans, Sir Arthur John, The Palace of Minos, 4 vols. in 6, Macmillan, 1921-35 Forsdyke, Edgar J. Minoan Art, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1932

Fowler, Harold N., Wheeler, J. R., and Stevens, G.P., A Handbook of Greek Archaeology, Amer- ican Book Company, 1909 Glasgow, George, The Minoans, London, 1923 Hall, Harry R. H., JEgean Archaeology , London, 1913

— — — - — -- — The Ancient History of the Hear East, 8th ed. rev., Macmillan, 1932

t — The Civilization of Greece in the

Bronze Age, London, 1 928 Hawes, Charles H., and Hawes, Harriet A. B., Crete, the Forerunner of Greece, Harper, 1909 Mackenzie, Donald A., Myths of Crete and Pre- Hellenic Europe, London, 1917 Mosso, Angelo, The Palaces of Crete and Their Builders, Putnam, 1907

Pendlebury, John S., Archaeology of Crete, Lon- don, 1939

— — — — A Handbook to the Palace of Minos at

Knossos, Macmillan, 1933 Rodenwaldt, Gerhart, Die Kunst der Antike, 2d ed., Berlin, 1927

Sheppard, John T., The Pattern of the Iliad, Lon- don, 1922

Swindler, Mary H., Ancient Painting, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1929

Tsountas, Ghrestos, and Manatt, J. I., The My- cenaean Age, Houghton Mifflin, 1 897 See also the General Bibliography, pp. .79.1-92.

ANCIENT ART

118

[a] Parthenon. Athens. Of Pentelic marble. Ictinus and Callicrates , architects. 447-432 b.g.

6

GREEK ART

Geometric, Archaic, and Fifth-Century Art

(ABOUT 1 100-400 B.G.)

I N marked contrast to Egypt, a land monotonous with the long horizon- tals of alluvial plain between desert pla- teaus and under invariable sunshine, Greece is a country of diversified geog- raphy and climate (Fig. 121A). The

deeply indented bays of its rugged coast line make the country half land and half sea; mountain ridges divide it into many small units. The semitropical cli- mate, though marked by alternations of wet and dry seasons, is free from ex- tremes of heat and cold. The unusually crystalline atmosphere is softened by a haze. Both sky and sea are brilliant in color. Little wonder is it that the Greeks, who were by nature sensitive to beauty and gifted with imagination, in their joy in nature should people mountains, woods, streams, sky, and sea with divinities; that they should picture Zeus, the king of this realm of gods, as reign- ing from their loftiest peak, Olympus; the Muses, as dwelling in the deep, cool groves on the long slopes of Parnassus and Cithaeron; and Apollo, the god of wisdom, as speaking from the awe-in- spiring clefts of Delphi. These geograph- ical and climatic conditions probably had something to do with the eager individualistic strain in the race.

Who were the Greeks? 1 They appear to be the product of a racial and cultural intermingling, with at least three com- ponents: the Mediterranean race, the Cretan culture, the Indo-European in- vaders. About 2000 b.g. these nomads began drifting in and mingling with the native inhabitants. About 1500 b.c. the Dorians, cruder, more militant Indo- Europeans, began to penetrate the Aegean lands. To this period belongs the siege of Troy, which is typical of the numerous conflicts between the Aegean strongholds, such as Troy or Mycenae, and the invaders. Those of the con- quered peoples who had the means fled; the remainder mingled with the con- . querors. Slowly they amalgamated, the invaders taking over certain elements of the gifted Cretan civilization. It was the Indo-European, however, whose re- ligion, language, and fresh energizing power triumphed.

The enterprising Hellenes early be- came a trading and colonizing people, and thus not only enlarged the geo- graphic and cultural boundaries of Hel- las but made contacts with the older civilizations — Egypt, Babylonia-As- syria, Phoenicia — from which they acquired ideas, motifs, conventions, processes. Tribal organizations evolved into city-states, each an individual unit,

1 In using the ward “Greek” one needs to remember that the Greeks called themselves “Hellenes” and their country “Hellas.”

ART 119

ruled first by kings, then by nobles, then by tyrants or benevolent despots; and finally came the extraordinary ex- periment of democracy. To govern, however, was not an accomplishment of the Greeks.

In religion, nature worship evolved into nature personification. The gods assumed human forms of grandeur and nobility, though not free from human frailty. Man, in other words, became “the measure of all things”; to create the perfect individual became an ideal. Hence the interest in athletics and the characteristic Olympic games, athletic, literary, and musical contests celebrated every four years in honor of Zeus.

Athens, in many ways, stands as the symbol of Greek culture, though one must not forget the contributions in science, philosophy, and the arts of Asia Minor and Magna Graecia. Should one have visited Athens at the time of its brief flowering after the Persian wars, what would one see? An enterprising business city of about a hundred thou- sand people, situated on a fertile plain about a lone hill some five miles inland from a bustling harbor. In appearance the city was rather mean, an unplanned mass of small sun-dried-brick houses along winding lanelike streets with no sidewalks and no drainage system. The chief open place was the agora, or market place, with its plane trees for shade; it was surrounded by public offices and covered colonnades called stoas. Though the market always served its primary purpose as a central place for the sale of vegetables, cheese, honey, and flowers, its use was much wider; for here the citizens congregated to lounge in the cool of the stoa, to discuss the latest political development or a new philosophical idea. Outside the walls were olive groves, and the gymnasiums where the men went daily, primarily for the bodily exercise that played so large a part in the education and the

120

ANCIENT ART

daily life of the Athenian, but also, again, for discussion. And above both the olive groves and the roof tops towered the Acropolis, or higher city, formerly a fortress but in this age crowned with temples rising in bright colors against an intensely blue sky.

Since an important part of tire con- duct of business, at times even the entire responsibility, was assumed by slaves, the Athenian had a great deal of leisure to spend in the open and to devote largely to the commonwealth — the world’s first important experiment in democracy. This democracy manifested itself in the great religious festivals, such as the Panathenaic procession, in which all the citizens, men and women, old and young, were represented; or at the dramatic performances of Aeschy- lus and Sophocles, where the audience of citizens approved with silence or ap- plause, or condemned with a shower of figs and olives. The comedies of Aris- tophanes were enjoyed to the utmost when they satirized the great figures of the day with a daring that would be tolerated in no city not truly demo- cratic. Quality was demanded in these plays by an audience that was composed of a people who were not art critics or theorizing esthetes but who could be depended upon, more often than not, to judge between good drama and bad.

Among the Greeks, then, we see a hu- manistic culture, with individual free- dom for the members of the free classes. Neither theocracy nor absolutism domi- nated this democratic spirit — a spirit already evidenced in the Cretan civili- zation and possibly a gift of the Cretan to the Greek. Compared to the life spans of some of the other ancient cultures its duration was short. It was homogene- ous and relatively unimpeded by out- side influences.

The remains of the Greek civilization are abundant enough for us to discern clearly in them the normal evolution of

the art of a culture, the cycle of its style. Such an evolution exists in every style and consists of three stages observable in all animate life: youth, maturity, Re- cline. The first stage, usually called the archaic, is one of energetic growth, in which the artist, striving to give sub- stance to his concepts, is daring in his experimentation with his material. In this struggle for expression he uses simple abstract or geometric forms, usually massive and monumental, with each part a conventional device, a concept of the mind rather than of visual per- ception. These parts are built into an organic structure, to which the con- stantly repeated conventions lend a dec- orative quality and in which is never lost either a recognition of the material or a fine craftsmanship in the handling of it. As time passes, a trend toward visual perception becomes discernible, and a more naturalistic outlook. This brings the style to its maturity. In this period, known as the classic stage, the artist has mastered the early problems, and is soberly confident and vigorous. While retaining something of the ruggedness and monumentality of the archaic age, he has refined its propor- tions, has tempered conventional forms with naturalism of a broadly general- ized type, and has produced an art of restraint and placid rhythms.

But the very forces that brought the style to its classic stage now operate to lead it into excesses. At first its classic sturdiness and tranquillity evolve into elegance, delicacy, and emotionalism. Then naturalism degenerates into real- istic imitation, and tranquillity into exaggerated movement and grandiose scale. Individual freedom delimits space, disregarding the limitations of material. Such is the last stage of a style, the flam- boyant, or baroque. And the artist, faced by its excesses, often reveals in his work an archaistic tendency — that is, a nostalgia for earlier times.

GREEK ART

12 1

ARCHITECTURE

With no use for the home except as an unpretentious place in which to eat and sleep, with no monarch to house royally, with religious rites performed in the open, what reason did the Greek have to build greatly? Far earlier than we can trace the practice by monu- ments, the Greek carved statues of his gods, statues that were very sacred. To

carve the statue and to protect it, then, was a motivation for both sculpture and architecture. The idea of simple protec- tion, however, soon developed into that of beautiful protection, with additional sculpture, partly to embellish the pro- tective building, partly to tell something of the deity symbolized within, and partly as votive offerings. In addition to those purely religious in purpose, statues were erected to commemorate impor-

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ANCIENT ART

[a] Construction Techniques, a. Cramps and Dowels. Iron or bronze cramps hold the stones of the same course; iron dowels , packed with lead poured in through channels left for that purpose, hold the stones of different courses; b. Two Drums , showing the cuttings left in the center for the bronze or wooden pivot which held the stones in place, correctly centered, and about which they were ground to secure a perfect joining.

tant events, and particularly the victors at the great national games. It was a very simple and limited range of pur- pose, but a key to Greek art.

Materials in abundance were at hand, plenty of timber, and literally moun- tains of marble: Hymettus, just east of Athens, with its bluish-white stone; Pen- telicus, north of the city, with its glit- tering white, peculiarly adapted for carving. The islands of the Aegean, Paros in particular, supplied varying quantities and qualities. Ivory and met- als, especially bronze, of which great quantities were used, it was necessary to import. In building, cement was not used; the stones were held firmly by a series of cramps and dowels (Fig. 1 22Aa) .

There is a great gap between Aegean art and the emergence of the truly Greek expression about 600 b.c. Cretan culture was already in decadence when the Dorians arrested all cultural growth until they had assimilated the vastly superior civilization with which they had come in contact, and had evolved along individual lines. Probably very early they carved statues and built wooden structures to protect them, which by 600 b.c. they had translated into less-perishable stone. The temple discloses in its plan a close affinity with

the Mycenaean megaron, and even in its most elaborate form retains the ut- most simplicity: a single or double room (the cella) with no windows and one door (or two for a double cella), and with either (x) a portico with two col- umns, between the extended walls, or (2) a colonnade across the entire front, or (3) a colonnade across both front and back; or (4) any of these plans sur- rounded by a single or a double colon- nade (Fig. 123A).

In elevation the temple consists of three parts: a base, columnar supports, and a superstructure of lintels and slop- ing roof with gable ends. Such an eleva- tion is known as an order. Three orders evolved in the course of the Greek style and are differentiated, partly by details but chiefly by the relative proportions of the parts.

The earliest of the Greek architec- tural orders to be formulated was the Doric. We might expect that as time went on an adventurous people would develop a new style. Not so the Greek. His adventurousness was of an intellec- tual kind: though all the elements of the style were present in definite rela- tionships early, there remained the re- fining of these relationships. The process covered about two centuries (Fig. 1 24A) .

GREEK ART

123

[a] Plans of Greek Temples, a. Treasury of the Athenians at Delphi , a temple in antis, so called because the portico is formed by the projecting side walls, antae, and two columns set between them; b. Temple of Artemis atEleusis, a temple in antis at both ends; c. Temple B at Selims , Sicily, a prostyle temple , so called because the columns stand in front of the cella and extend the width of it. Sometimes an additional colonnade is placed at the back of the temple, and it is then called amphiprostyle as in d; d. Temple of Nike Apteros (Wingless Victory) on the Acropolis at Athens; e. Temple of Aphaia at Aegina, a peripteral temple, so called because a colonnade completely surrounds the cella, which in this case is in antis at both ends; f. Parthenon (Fig. ii8a), a peripteral temple; to the prostyle cella an ad- ditional room for treasure has been added. Sometimes the peripteral plan is embellished by doubling the surrounding colonnade, and it is then called dipteral as in g; g. Temple of the Olympian Zeus at Athens (Fig. 159A).

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ANCIENT ART

[a] The Evolution of Proportion in the Doric Order, d is the Par- thenon) which appears to have attained the subtlest proportions.

In this habit of mind lies the key to an understanding of Greek art as well as of its extraordinary limitations.

The early Doric temples, such as the Heraeum at Olympia (about 620 b.c.), the Basilica (540 b.c.) and the Temple of Demeter (520 b.c.) at Paestum in Italy, and the Temple of Apollo (540 b.c.) at Corinth, show a clear distribution of parts: a base; fluted columns, with cushionlike capitals which support an entablature consisting of an architrave and a frieze composed of alternating triglyphs and metopes 1 ; and a crowning pediment, which is the natural gable end formed by a sloping roof. Such a temple is a simple type of lintel con-

1 Triglyph: a rectangular stone with three groovings (two whole and two halves); metope: the space between (the triglyphs).

struction, on a scale small enough for stone lintels to bridge the span between the columns.

Ornament plays a large part in the design, and is concentrated on the upper part of the building — in the metopes and the pediments. This ornament is basically sculpture, but it is not sculp- ture in the natural color of the stone but gaily painted in red and blue, with touches of green, yellow, black, and per- haps a little gold. The unpainted parts may have been rubbed with wax. By the use of color the artist could bring out more clearly the relationships of the parts, could soften the glitter of the stone, and could provide a background to set off the figures.

Unlike Egyptian temples, Greek tem- ples faced outward. Rites were per-

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GREEK ART

formed in the open, and the building itself served only to house the cult statue. Mass, volume, and interior space did not concern the Greek. It was on the exterior, on the outside surfaces, | that he concentrated his attention, in t order to make the temple a suitable f monument, like a piece of sculpture, to the deity. The deeply broken light and shade, the quiet movement in the colon- nade, and the lighter, more rapid move- ment in the gay superstructure result from a relief concept — as if reliefs were carved on an inner rectangular volume whose mass and solidity are not felt, as | they are in the Egyptian temple with § its solid walls and clearly defined vol- umes (Fig. 62A).

The culmination of the Doric order is the Parthenon (Fig. 118a). 1 It stands on the crest of the Acropolis, harmonizing with the contours of the hill; its broken light and shade play into the varying tones of the mountain landscape (Fig.

27A) . The general impression is one of repose, of a sensitive balance between the supporting members and the load between the vertical line and the hori- zontal line, both largely unbroken. Everything contributes to calm. Con- trast for a moment the restless move- ment of a Gothic cathedral (Figs. 348B, 349A and b) and the serenity of the Parthenon becomes even more apparent.

The plan of the temple (Fig. i23Af) shows a double cella, one room serving to house the cult statue, the other, the temple treasure. In elevation the Par-

1 The Parthenon was the temple of Athena Parthenos, meaning “Athena the Maiden,” who Was the patron goddess of Athens. Its ruined condition is due to the fact that at the time of the war between the Turks and the Venetians in 1687, the building was used as a powder mag- azine and exploded when hit by a well-aimed shot. A large part of the remaining sculpture was obtained by Lord Elgin, with the per- mission of the Turkish Government, in 1801- 03, and became the property of the British Museum in 1816.

[a] A Comparison of Greek Orders, a. The Doric Order; b. The Ionic Order.

thenon reveals the highest refinements of the Doric order. From the stylobate, the upper member of the triple base, the columns rise directly without indi- vidual bases, like trees from the ground. The shaft diminishes in diameter as it rises, and its contour is a very subtle curve, barely perceptible and known as the entasis. The grooves, or flutings, of the shafts with their soft shadows and repeated vertical lines both strengthen the rhythm and emphasize the feeling of support in the shaft, and finally in- dividualize the columns by contrasting them with the plain wall of the cella against which they are seen. The shafts are not monoliths but consist of separate drums bonded together by dowels of wood and metal (Fig. 1 22 Ab) with such

ANCIENT ART

[a] The Upper Part of a Column from the Eastern Porch of the Erechlheum. British Museum , London .

nicety that the joinings were originally scarcely visible.

The capital consists of three parts — the necking, the echinus, and the aba- cus. The purpose of a capital is to form the transition from the shaft to the lintel; that is, from the vertical mem- ber, the load-carrying element, to the horizontal member, the load. An es- thetically successful capital will not make this transition too abruptly. In the Doric capital we get our first sug- gestion of the horizontal in the necking; yet the vertical flutings continue up into the capital to the point at which we feel more insistently the horizontal; that is, at the row of concentric ridges that separate the necking and the echinus. The simple vigorous curve of the echi- nus then carries the line up to the square abacus — not directly, however, for it turns inward as it meets the block, thus

avoiding abruptness. The strength of this curve, rising so vigorously and then turning inward so gracefully, was not worked out by the Greek in a short time, but only after a long series of ex- periments dealing with the angle and the proportions. In the rectangular aba- cus we are carried easily into the hori- zontal architrave. Thus by a carefully thought-out design based upon skillful interplay of direction, we pass gradually from vertical to horizontal, from support- ing elements to supported (Fig. 1 35Aa) .

The architrave is severely plain and the frieze is composed of alternating triglyphs and metopes. If the wood- construction theory of the origin of the Doric temple is valid, out of a discarded function the Greek has made an esthetic asset. 1 For the triglyphs repeat the ver- ticals of the columns in a more rapid tempo. The architrave and the frieze are separated by a simple stringcourse and united by the molding with bead- like ornaments beneath each triglyph. The deeply projecting cornice finishes the design and protects the frieze from rain. Unity of design between the frieze and the cornice is obtained by under- cutting the cornice to correspond with the triglyphs and the metopes, and by the use of color. A second cornice, known as the raking cornice, finishes the pediment.

The curve, or entasis, found in the column has been noted. This variation from the straight line is characteristic of all parts of the building. The stylo- bate has a slight upward curve (a rise of three and three-fifths inches for a length of two hundr ed and twenty-eight feet); the columns incline inward, and are placed not at equal intervals, but closer together toward the corners, lend-

1 According to the wood-construction theory triglyphs and metopes originated in the beam ends and the spaces between ; and the under- cuttings of the cornice, in the ends of the roof rafters.

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127

[a] Erechthenm. Athens, c. 420-409 b.c. ( Clarence Kennedy)

ing a feeling of stability at those points. In fact, there is not a straight line in the building. While the purpose of the Greek in avoiding straight lines and complete regularity was undoubtedly to correct optical illusions, it also seems probable “that the builders of the Par- thenon (whether by intelligent imita- tion or by intuitive artistic taste) had applied to architecture the same secret of beauty which governs natural forms - — the tempering of geometric accuracy by minute deviations.” 1

In the Ionic Erechtheum 2 (Figs. i25Ab,

1 Rhys Carpenter, The Esthetic Basis of Greek Art, Longmans, 1921, p. 195. For a sensitive analysis of the Parthenon by a modern architect, see C. E. Le Corbusier, Towards a New Architec- ture, Harcourt, Brace, 1927.

2 The Erechtheum, so named after Erechtheus, to whom it was dedicated in part, conforms in plan (Fig. 127B) to Figure 123AC, but has several unusual features, which may have been due partly to the irregular character of the ground on which the temple stands and partly to the number of shrines that it contained. For it was said to mark the site of the contest between Poseidon and Athena for the possession of Athens, and to shelter within its area the mark made by the trident and the salt spring of the former and the olive tree of the latter.

[b] The Erechtheum Plan. The temple probably contained more than one shrine.

127A and b) we note, in comparison with the Parthenon, more slender propor- tions, greater elegance and grace, richer embellishment. In detail, the columns have individual bases, one member of which is delicately carved; on the neck- ing is a honeysuckle band; the echinus is decorated with bead and reel, egg and dart, and the double guilloche (Fig. 1 26a) . Perhaps the most conspicuous part of the Ionic capital is the double scroll or volute inserted between the

128

ANCIENT ART

I , f? a*

t/ ! *i ll ij <l, j il * /'•^J!'<fJ l '?ff^l'^/^ l ^|l , 9/lC//!^

[a] Carving from the Erechtheum, with Honeysuckle , Bead and Reel , Egg and Dart, and Leaf and Dart Motifs. Acropolis Museum, Athens. ( Alinari )

narrow echinus and the abacus. The ar- chitrave is divided into three horizon- tal faces and the frieze was originally covered by a continuous band of low relief, in place of the Doric triglyphs and metopes. Stringcourses and cornices, doorway, and wall bands are delicately carved with dentils, egg and dart, bead and reel, honeysuckle, and braid pat- terns (Figs, i 28 a, 129A). This orna- ment, though rich, is confined to certain places and is strictly subordinated to the design of the whole. The Greek marble was particularly adaptable to the carv- ing of moldings, which show not only beauty of chisel work but of profile, and reveal a sensitive and intelligent choice of the particular decorative motif that is adapted to a concave, convex, or angular type of molding. The value of these moldings to the Greek may be judged from the fact that he paid, ac- cording to the building inscriptions of the Erechtheum , the same price for carv- ing one foot of egg and dart as for one human figure.

The Temple of Nike Apieros (the Wing- less Victory, Fig. i23Ad), a small am- phiprostyle Ionic temple set precipi- tously on the top of the cliff at the side

cf the Propylaea or Gateway to the Acropolis, is an example of the bold placement for effective clarity often found in the loca- tion of Greek temples.

SCULPTURE

Architectural decoration, both in re- lief and in the round, was the purpose of much of Hellenic sculpture, though many independent statues were made for cult, votive, and commemorative purposes. Much of it was carved from the same material as the building and was painted not naturalistically but conventionally, to harmonize with a polychrome structure. If this use of color appears strange, one needs only to recall- the tradition of color in archi- tecture and sculpture in the eastern Mediterranean and western Asiatic countries — Egypt, Babylonia, Assyria, Persia, Asia Minor, Crete.

As for technical processes , 1 the sculp-

1 For technical processes and tools see Stanley Gasson, The Technique of Early Greek Sculpture , Oxford University Press, 1933; G. M. A. Richter, The Sculpture and Sculptors of the Greeks, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1930; and Rhys Carpenter, The Sculpture of the Nike Temple Parapet, Harvard University Press, 1929.

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129

[a] Fragment of a Cornice from the Siphnian Treasury. Delphi, Delphi Museum , ( Clarence Kennedy)

tor carved the stone directly and used clay only when his conception required the use of clay as a medium. Bronze was popular, worked by solid casting, by hammering over a wooden core, or by the cire-perdue process.

Geometric and archaic sculpture is the expression of a vigorously growing people. The artist in his struggle* for expression uses simple forms tending to the geometric, with each part a con- ventional device, a symbol created by mind and memory 1 rather than a natu- ralistic rendering based directly upon visual experience. These parts are com- bined architecturally; that is, are built into a perfectly articulated entity.

These qualities we recognize in the Hera of Samos (Fig. 130A). 2 The Hera is basically a cylinder, possibly reflecting a wooden prototype translated into

1 For this explanation see Emanuel Loewy, The Rendering of Mature in Early Greek Art, Lon- don, 1907.

2 One should at least mention among the earliest expressions in the Greek cycle the polychrome wood statues which have inevitably disappeared and the early stone statues, such as the Artemis found at Delos (Athens, National Museum), in which is a timid approach to a rectangular block of stone and an overshadow- ing of the representation by the material.

stone. The goddess stands in frontal pose, feet together, the right arm held tightly to the side, the left bent to the breast, probably holding some attribute.

[b] Head of the Statue of the “ Apollo ” type (Fig. 13 1 a ). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (Metropolitan Museum)

ANCIENT ART

[a] Hera of Samos. Marble . H. 6 ft. c. 550 b.c. Louvre , Paris.

[b] Seated Man. From the Sacred Way of the Templt of Apollo near Miletus. 550-530 b.c. British Museum^ London. (British Museum)

The statue is compact, with fine strong contours, particularly as it sweeps out to join the base. There is an indication of the simple planes of the figure in the upper part. Linear conventions carved on the stone indicate linen in the long undergarment and wool in the mantle; and the two are united by a strong curve that repeats the contour curve. The simple quiet harmony of all parts, the long unbroken lines and quiet sur- faces, imbue the Hera with a reposeful majesty. This feeling permeates the seated figures from a temple near Mi-

letus (Fig. 1 30B) . An impression of power derives from the sheer massiveness and weight of the stone, and one of dignity from the simple four-sided organiza- tion, as in the Khafre (Fig. 13A) . Conven- tional devices, breaking up the surfaces, not only represent different kinds of cloth but set up movement over the sur- faces and create varying textures.

Again we are vaguely reminded of Egyptian statues by one of the so-called Apollo figures — in the pose with left foot advanced, in the broad square shoulders, and in the four-sided organi-

GREEK ART

[a] Statue of the “ Apollo ” type. H. 6 ft. 4 in. c. 600 b.c. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (. Metropolitan Museum )

zation (Fig. 131A). Here is a solid figure constructed of a few broad planes defi- nitely related to the block of stone. On these planes anatomical details are in- dicated by shallow groovings or ridges, not obvious, but clearly enough seen to show that each is related to the other in a pattern. The boldly conceived de- vice for the hair, 1 which falls on the back in an angular mass (repeated in the angular fingers), with the half an- gular, half curved knot of the fillet, furnishes a decorative note which com- plements the patternings of the torso

1 This is to be distinguished from the Egyp- tian wig. Greek men wore the hair long until sometime in the fifth century b.c.

and limbs. Notice how the conventional ear (Fig. 129B), in line a continuation of the line of the jaw and in grooving a repetition of the eyelid, is the unifying element of the hair and the face. Al- most any archaic head shows protrud- ing eyes; abrupt transitions between the planes of the face, giving the impression of prominent cheekbones; mouth with upturned corners 2 ; and stylized hair. All the conventions of this statue are cut firmly, and with their repeating

2 Causing the “archaic smile,” which appears to result from the difficulty in making the transi- tion between the lips and the cheeks. For archaic heads of other civilizations see Figs.

■ 225A and b, 227A, 234A.

132

ANCIENT ART

[a] Votive Figure Found on the Acropolis. [b] Figure Found on the Acropolis. Marble ,

Marble, painted. H. c. 4 ft. Early 5th cent. painted. H. c. 3 ft. Early 3th cent. b.c. b.g. Acropolis Museum, Athens. ( Alinari ) Acropolis Museum, Athens. ( Alinari )

lines and motifs create a formal pattern of great esthetic power.

In time the trend sets in the direction of naturalism, both in pose and in de- tails. The protruding eyes are taking their natural place within the eye socket; the “archaic smile” is disap- pearing; the hair hints at the thickness of its mass; and the drapery at actual deep folds. All this we see in the female figures, probably votive, found on the Acropolis at Athens (Figs. 132A and

b). All of them stand in the same frontal position, left foot advanced, right hand holding up the mantle, left arm bent at the elbow and extended as if holding something. The ladies here represented wear linen chitons, indi- cated by ripple marks, and woolen mantles that fall in broad conventional folds from the right shoulder. The marble is undercut along the edge of the folds, giving a feeling of depth, and is painted to represent the decorative

[b] Temple of Aphaia at Aegina, Eastern Pediment. Incident from the Trojan War. Con- jectural restoration by Furtwangler . c. 500 b.c. Glyptothek , Munich .

GREEK ART

border and the allovcr pattern of the goods. The elaborately dressed hair falls down behind in conventional waves, and a few locks, separating, fall over the breast. Notwithstanding the vigorous, half-abstract, decorative beauty in these statues, one feels, pos- sibly, an overelaboration and a lack of

that perfect unity of all details found in the Apollo.

The early reliefs have the same sty- listic character as the early sculpture in the round, and in addition solve the problem peculiar to relief: the sug- gestion of a greater depth than is meas- urably present.

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ANCIENT ART

[a] Horses from a Frieze on the Treasury of the Siphnians, Delphi, c. 525 b.c. ( Clarence Kennedy) The analyses show: a., the dominating organization of rhythmically related curves: b } a subordinate and more rapid rhythm of straight lines: c, repeated line patterns: d, the arrangement of the figures in depth on planes parallel with the plane of the background, an organization especially appropriate for a decorative relief Compare the strong but controlled rhythms in this and in the Parthenon frieze (Figs. 142 a, 144 a) with the more violent rhythms found in the reliefs of the Hellenistic period (Figs. 160 A, 162 a).

[a] Temple of fern at Olympia, Western Pediment. Battle of Centaurs and Lapiths. Re- stored by Treu. c. 460 B.c.

GREEK ART

A solution of this problem we find in the friezes on the Siphnian Treasury 1 (Fig. 134A), where the horses give a sense of vivid life, a feeling of the figure in space, and a decorative effectiveness. Space is indicated by a series of shallow parallel planes, with sharp edges which give em- phasis to the contours of the horses’ necks, bodies, and tails. The broad carv- ing of the bodies seems to insist upon the chief planes, while the conventions for the manes and the tails break these planes in certain areas to add move- ment and texture to the design.

We have already begun to see the path of evolution which the cycle is taking. Starting with simple, almost geometric forms, with conventional de- vices for details, all of which are brought into a harmonious unit possessing deco- rative beauty, the sculptor begins to temper these forms by observing nature and making his statue represent a little more of what the eye actually sees.

The pedimental figures of the Tem- ple of Aegina (Fig. 133B) illustrate this change. The scene probably represents some episode from the Trojan War. Athena, with aegis and spear, stands in the center, with fighting groups ar- ranged in a balanced position on either side. In each group a warrior with hel- met, shield, and drawn sword attacks his falling opponent, to whose help a friend rushes with outstretched arms. Behind him an archer, with bent knee, takes aim at the warrior; a fallen

wounded soldier occupies the corner. The most noticeable thing in the group is the freedom of movement and variety of pose. The figures are modeled with a vigor and an understanding of the human physique that reflect a careful observation of nature. The Archer (Fig.

1 33 a), for example, is complicated in pose in comparison with the statues that we have studied; but the form is so compact and so simple in outline as to be almost geometrical. It is the con- trasting direction of line seen in the vertical of the back, the horizontal of the arm, and the diagonal of the firmly braced leg that gives one so strong an impression of the powerful draw upon the bow, and at the same time a feeling of the perfect equilibrium of the whole figure. Many of the conventions are still present; the angular motifs in the cuirass, for example, strike a harmoni- ous note in the total angularity of the figure.

The use of figures in the round to decorate the pediment of the temple posed the Greek a problem with which he struggled from the earliest temples of which we have evidence to the Par- thenon. A gable is a space difficult to fill without being too obvious in treating the central axis and the narrow corners. On the old Temple of Athena at Athens the Three-bodied Monster (Acropolis Mu- seum), with coiling tail and bold con- ventional coloring, in its simple direct- ness must have been peculiarly deco-

136

ANCIENT ART

[a] Three-sided Relief Sometimes called the il Ludovisi Throne.” Subject unknown. Marble. H. 40 in. c. 480 b.c. Terme (National) Museum, Rome. (Alinari)

[b] Figure from the Eastern Pediment of the Temple of Z^) Olympia. Marble. H. c. 3 ft. c. 460 B.G.

rative. At Aegina , while any judgment is hazardous because of the uncertainty in the arrangement of the fragments, the figures seem somewhat forced in pose and unrelated. At Olympia, how- ever, in the Temple of Zeus, despite the fragmentary remains, unity is discerni- ble, together with unobtrusive move- ment from corner to apex.

On the western pediment is repre- sented the Battle of the Centaurs and Lap- iths (Fig. 135A). In the center stands Apollo, calmly majestic as if witnessing the scene but not of it. On each side are the Combatants, in balanced group- ings of twos and threes, with reclining figures in the corners. In comparison with the pediment of Aegina the design is complicated, and the unity among the figures and their relation to the space are more subtle. Apollo (Fig. 137A) stands austerely erect, the outstretched arm and turn of the head balancing the vertical of the body, and producing an

effect that is architecturally fitting and monumental. There is simple modeling without detail in both the figure and the drapery, which is arranged in broad folds that enhance the majestic effect. The figure has great vitality and at the same time poise and restraint, so that both the conception and the expression harmonize in their forceful directness. In a detail from the eastern pediment (Fig. 1 36B), the clear, definite relation- ship of parts is evident. This sculpture at Olympia, simple, direct, of monu- mental breadth and animating power, constitutes for many the climax of Greek sculpture, and has served as a stimula- tion to and a point of affinity with some modern sculptors — Maillol, for ex- ample (Fig. 776A). The same qualities are equally apparent in the metopes of this temple.

This balance between the ideal of thought form (conventions, symbols) and the ideal of seen form (visual ap- pearance), which manifests itself in a restrained naturalism and in a feeling for material, we see again in the so- called Ludovisi Throne (Fig. 136A), neither the purpose nor the subject of which is definitely known. As decorative design we have a composition of single curves and S-curves about the central head, with stabilizing verticals in the folds of drapery. The beautiful texture of the Stone, the feeling of order and logic in the inseparable unity of stone and fig- ure, the skilled, sensitive cutting of the varied conventions for hair and textiles, conventions which are quite under the control of the firm organization yet lend to it a living quality through their un- obtrusive variations — these attributes

ANCIENT ART

[a] Myron. Discobolus. Reconstructed copy of the bronze original. Ter me ( National ) Museum , Rome.

make this relief of outstanding value. 1

As an example of the bronze work of the late archaic age, the Charioteer of Delphi (Fig. 139 a) will serve. The dark color with reflections and sharp contours, the crisp edges of the details necessitated by the darkness of the ma- terial, are characteristic of work in bronze. The statue belonged to a group with chariot and horses, and was prob- ably erected to commemorate a victory at the races. It represents a youthful aristocrat who stands firmly on both feet, holding the reins in his outstretched 1 This late archaic art from about 480 to 450 b.c. is usually known as the transitional age. It is well to recall that this is the generation fol- lowing the Persian Wars.

hand. He is dressed in the customary garment of a driver, girdled high and held in at the shoulders and the back to keep it from flapping. The hair is confined by a band tied behind. The eyes, which are made of glass paste and shaded by lashes of hairlike strips of bronze (a curiously inconsistent detail, an example of virtuosity in attempted naturalism but fortunately inconspicu- ous), and the slightly parted lips add vivacity to the face. We feel the auster- ity of archaic work in the figure, espe- cially in the lower part, where the folds of the dress have almost the architec- tural quality of a fluted column; in the sharp lines of the brow; and in the con- ventional way in which the hair is worked above the band. But we notice also the naturalistic curls below the band; the masterly modeling in the hand and in the feet, the toes of which are clutching the floor of the chariot; the slight twist of the torso that gives one the feeling of an organic structure beneath the dress. The statue is a por- trait, yet there are but few individual- istic traits about it. Broad generalization characterizes it so far as representation is concerned. As in the sculptures at Olympia, monumental conception com- bines with directness and dignity of ex- pression.

Another bronze of this age, the Discob- olus (Discus-thrower) of Myron 2 (Fig. 138A), contrasts with the Charioteer in its movement, unusual for the fifth century b.c. Here an instantaneous pose has been caught between the backward and the forward thrust of the arm in hurling the quoit, and out of it, by means of formal qualities, has been made an ab- stract expression of concentrated force. For although the human figure has been used to convey the idea, we are primar-

2 The original of this statue is lost. A con- siderable number of copies exist, from which Figure 138A is constructed. For the question of copies in Greek sculpture see Richter, op. tit.

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39

ily aware of the great sweep of an arc beginning with the quoit, moving along the right arm, the curve of the shoul- ders, down the left arm, taken up in the right leg, and so strongly felt that its very momentum easily carries the eye over the space back to the quoit. Gutting across and finally uniting with this arc is a great S-curve, and a sta- bilizing vertical, the axis, from shoulder to weight-holding leg. The face, con- trary to what we should expect at such an intense moment, is impassive and broadly generalized. Such a free, non- compact pose, suitable for bronze, again shows the artist’s complete understand- ing of the capacity of his material. This sensitivity to bronze is seen in two horses (Figs. 140A and b) which show

[a] Charioteer of Delphi. Bronze. H. 6 ft. Part of a chariot group. Delphi Museum. (Alinari)

the same feeling for material and also, by comparison, the same trend toward naturalism in the animal as in the hu- man figure. This new naturalism, how- ever, is used with great discretion, and the impression of energetic spirit results largely from the use of archaic conven- tions, moderately tempered.

A statue that brings us to the end of the transitional age is the Athena Lemnia of Phidias 1 (Fig. 1 41 a), which stood on the Acropolis at the left side of the

1 While it cannot be proved conclusively that tliis statue is a copy of the original bronze by Phidias, it is generally thought to be so. The body is now in Dresden, the head in Bologna — a fact easily explained, since Greek statues were often ; made of several pieces of marble, a finer quality being used for the head.

I 4 ,Q

ANCIENT ART

[a] Statuette of a Horse. Bronze. H. c. 7 in. 8th cent. b.g. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. {Metro- politan Museum )

road that leads from the great gate- way to the Parthenon. She stands erect, though with more freedom of pose than the Charioteer. She wears the woolen Doric chiton, which falls in rich folds, somewhat severe, and over this the aegis. The head is turned to the right and slightly lowered. Contrary to the usual representations, she does not wear her helmet, but carries it in her hand. Thus Phidias has emphasized her more gracious aspect — “the thoughtful Athena with the delicate cheeks,” ac- cording to a Latin writer. One here dis- cerns a sculptor governed by what his eye sees, yet by no means absolutely. The figure is an organic structure with capacity for movement; the drapery, undercut to suggest depth, begins to look like cloth and falls in more casual folds; the mass of hair has volume, though the details are conventionally treated; the features, though general- ized and broadly carved, take their natural places as part of the structure of the head.

[b] Statuette of a Horse. Bronze. H. c. 14, in. c. 470 b.g. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. [Metropolitan Museum)

Some, as has been said, see in the sculpture of the late archaic age the climax of the Greek cycle. Others see it in the Parthenon sculpture. It is a moot point whether the sculpture of the Par- thenon, even in parts, is the work of Phidias. His most famous statues, the Athena of the Parthenon and the Zeus of the temple at Olympia, were made of gold and ivory, and hence have long since disappeared, and our knowledge of his art can best be gained through the sculptural decorations of the Parthenon, which we know were made under his supervision, and which may be, in parts, actually by his hand.

The sculptural decorations of the Par- thenon are found at three points: the pediments, the metopes, and an addi- tional continuous frieze 1 which ran around the top of the cella wall and thus inside the colonnade. The metopes provide movement by compositions of

1 Not to be confused with the regular Doric frieze of triglyphs and metopes. This continuous frieze, an Ionic feature, is unusual.

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141

[a] Phidias {?). Athena Lemnia. {See note 1, p. 139)

two struggling interlocking figures in high relief — Centaurs and Lapiths, gods and giants, Greeks and Amazons.

The subject of the eastern pediment (Fig. 14.4c), the ancient writers tell us, was the birth of Athena, who sprang full-armed from the head of Zeus. Again, the remains are fragmentary, but from a drawing made by a Frenchman trav- eling in Athens in 1674 we can get a glimpse of part of the composition. In the left corner, the sun god Helios in his chariot is rising out of the sea. Only the head, the shoulders, and the arms of Helios and the heads of the horses are shown. The horses approach a seated male figure turned toward them, which may personify Mt. Olympus, though it

is usually identified as Dionysus. Closely connected are two seated figures, prob- ably Demeter and Persephone, ap- proached by a standing figure. The center is entirely gone. On the right are three seated female figures closely grouped, one turned toward the center. In the corner projecting over the cornice is seen the head of one. of the horses of Selene, the moon goddess, who is sink- ing into the west as Helios rises in the east. In the Three Fates, as the group of three seated female figures is called (Fig. 143B), there is a quiet majesty, a highly generalized form with all the elements of the human structure ex- pressed in their essential aspects only, and a balance between the material and

142

ANCIENT ART

[a] Parthenon Frieze, Northern Side. Cavalcade of Mounted Youths, metal and affixed by rivets, the holes for which are seen in the horses'

the subject matter. The single figure at the left is in the frontal position, is four-sided, and quite one with the block of marble, although there is consider- able movement in the limbs and head. The drapery, though by comparison with the archaic it is decidedly natural- istic, upon close observation is seen to create a definite undulating pattern. So, notwithstanding the advance of nat- uralism, we find sculpture that still recognizes the integrity of the material and which is monumental in its breadth and serene majesty.

The frieze along the top of the cella wall, in very low relief, was seen in half- light against a colored ground between the columns, enriching the plain wall and bringing movement into a static composition. It represents the Panaihe- naic procession, which took place every four years when the citizens of Athens gathered in the market place and car- ried to the Parthenon the peplos or robe for the statue of Athena. In the part of the frieze that decorated the western side of the building the procession is forming — youths are lacing their san- dals, holding their horses or mounting, guided by marshals who stand at inter- vals, and particularly at the corners, to

slow down the movement and guide the horsemen at the turn. In the friezes of the two long sides the procession moves in parallel lines, a cavalcade of spirited youths, chariots, elders, jar-carriers, and animals for sacrifice. The movement becomes slower and more solemn as it nears the eastern side, when after turn- ing the corner it approaches the seated divinities, who appear to be guests of Athena at her great festival. 1 The caval- cade of mounted youths (Fig. 142 a) is filled with rhythmic movement and spirited action. The backward glance of some of the youths gives a balance to the general forward movement of the procession; and the infinite variety in the poses of the youths and the horses frees it from any feeling of monotony. There is a flat background with no dis- tance and no unnecessary details. We have, in fact, all the essential elements of a procession of spirited youths ex- pressed with a naturalism tempered by decorative fitness. Notice how the fig- ures just fill the space; how the heads,

1 A convenient and inexpensive reproduction of the entire frieze, which is necessary for a realization of the unity of composition and the rhythmic flow of line, is published by the Uni- versity Prints, Newton, Massachusetts.

I

Accessories, such as the bridles and reins , were painted on or made of heads. Marble. H. 40 in. British Museum , London. {Mansell)

GREEK ART

whether the figures are standing or mounted, are on a level 1 ; how the flanks of the horses form a central band of largely unbroken surface, and their legs beat a rapid rhythm in the lower third of the panel. Originally details and ac-

1 This particular practice of distorting natural proportions for decorative purpose is known as isocephaly (heads equal, or on a level). It is a practice by no means limited to Greece. Indeed i* is universal.

cents were stressed by color and even by bronze reins added - — a disconcert- ingly realistic detail. In the slab repre- senting the jar-carriers (Fig. 144A) the insistent motif of a youth carrying a jar upon his right shoulder is repeated, making a design of decorative quality, ease, and grace of rhythm that is readily felt but only understood when one ob- serves the subtle variations that occur in the pose of the head, the arms, and

[b] Parthenon , Eastern Pediment . Three Female Figures , called the “ Three Fates.” British Museum , London. (. British Museum )

144

ANCIENT ART

[a] Parthenon Frieze , Northern Side. Jar-Carriers. Acropolis Museum , Athens. [Mansell)

[b] School of Poly- clitus. Maiden. Bronze. H. 10 in. yth cent, b.c, Antiquarium Munich. ( Clarence Kennedy)

[g] Birth of Athena. Parthenon , Eastern Pedi- ment. c. 438 b.c. Draw- ing by Jacques Carrey , a.d. 1674. Bibliotheque Nalionale , Paris.

the hands, and in the arrangement of the drapery.

A contemporary of Phidias was Poly- clitus, whose well-known interest in working out an ideal set of proportions

for the human figure 1 is illuminating

1 Illustrated in his Doryphorus, the statue of an athlete called the Canon. It exists only in hard dry Roman copies found in the museum at Naples and elsewhere.

GREEK ART

because it enables us to co-ordinate the interests of sculptor and of builder and to realize that they are identical; namely, the refinement of proportions. Something of the Polyclitan style we see in a bronze statuette of a Maiden with turbanlike headdress (Fig. 144B). The weight rests on the right foot; the left foot is slightly raised, so that the figure is thrown into an easy pose. The little statue is simply constructed, with suavely flowing planes causing high lights on the reflecting surfaces to set up a quiet rhythm — a design well suited to the bronze medium.

The style of Phidias and of Polyclitus dominated Greek sculpture during the late fifth century b.c. when the Greek’s objective became, more definitely, nat- ural appearance. A fragment from the balustrade of the Temple of Athena Mike (Fig. 1 45 a) has a little flavor, perhaps, of virtuosity in the extraordinary skill shown in revealing the figure beneath the drapery, and in the slight turning- away from a perfect balance between stone and cloth to a slight overbalance on the side of an illusion of cloth. At the same time there is a masterly expres- sion of movement, quite abstract, in the folds which hang between the arm and the leg, a rhythmic flow of concentric curves, to secure which seems to have been the reason for the uplifted leg — an excellent example of the use of pose or gesture to obtain an effect of lyric charm.

PAINTING

That schools of painting existed, and paralleled sculpture in an evolution from geometric and conventional to naturalistic, we know from literary evi- dence, from the powerful influence they exerted on pottery decoration, and from Roman copies, But the actual paintings are entirely gone, the mural paintings in the stoas and other public build-

[a] Nike Fixing Her Sandal. From the Temple of Athena Mike. 421-4.15 b.c. Acropolis Museum , Athens.

ings as well as the panel pictures. As shadowy to us as ghosts are these fa- mous painters so far as our visual knowl- edge of their work is concerned. There was Polygnotus, contemporary of Phid- ias, who was a painter as well as a sculptor. Polygnotus attempted, by placing figures one above another, to suggest depth. He used a very limited range of color, and appears to have created, with others, as grandly monu- mental a style in painting as the sculp- tors attained in the temple at Olympia and in the Parthenon. Then there was Apollodorus the “Shadow-Maker” (fifth century), who seems to have experi- mented with the use of shadow to make his figures appear round, in conformity with, the general naturalistic trend of the day.

[a] The Amphora (; meaning to carry on both sides, referring to the two handles) was a vessel for storing provisions — wine , corn , oil, honey. It had an opening large enough to admit a ladle and usually a cover to protect the contents, [b] The Cylix {from the Greek root “to roll,” referring to the vases being turned onthe wheel) was the chief form of the drinking cup. [c] The Oinochoe ( from the Greek verb “to pour out wine”) was the wine jug. The lip is pinched into a trefoil shape, which facilitates pouring. Vase painting showing a youth pouring wine from a slender, high-handled oinochoe into a cylix held by his companion while another youth approaches carrying an amphora.

POTTERY, METALWORK,

INTAGLIO, ENGRAVING

Among the elements of the Aegean culture that the Greek appears to have taken over and expanded was the pot- tery trade. In the course of time, as in- creasing exports created a demand for containers for such substances as oil and honey in addition to articles for general household use, the potters’ quarters at

Athens, known as the Ceramicus , 1 came to be no inconsiderable part of the city.

While the Mycenaean was fashioning his stately Palace Style jars (Figs. 115A and b), among the Greeks a new kind of pottery was appearing, of simple, rug- ged shape, with geometric decoration and occasional abstract natural forms.

1 Situated both inside and outside the Dipy- lon Gate. The name is derived from the Greek word for “potter,” whence our “ceramics.”

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[a] The Hydria ( from the Greek word for “water”) was the water jar, used chiefly to bring water from the spring. It has three handles , two for lifting and one for carrying. Vase painting showing two youths filling their hydriae at a fountain, [b] The Lecythos {oil flask ) has a long, narrow neck adapted to pouring oil slowly. It was used chiefly in funeral rites. Vase paint- ing showing two men at a tomb; on the plinth are lecythi, oinochoe, a crater , a lyre, and a wreath. [c] The Grater (from the Greek verb “to mix”) was the bowl for mixing the wine and water, the usual beverage of the Greek; hence it had a wide mouth. Vase painting showing a youth filling his cylix from a crater.

In comparison with the Cretan, the decorative scheme and its relation to the shape seem to have been intellectu- ally considered rather than spontane- ously felt. This Geometric pottery, made from about 1 100 to 800 b.c., culminated in the Dipylon ware, 1 of which a large funerary amphora (Figs. 148A, 146 a) is

1 So called because these vases have been found in great numbers in the cemetery near the Dipylon Gate of Athens.

an example. Its vigorous shape and small handles, none too sensitively pro- portioned, are decorated in a rich brown glaze on light clay, with bands contain- ing geometric motifs and human figures. The latter occur with extreme rarity in Aegean pottery. Here we see the Greek concentrating upon his chief concern, man. The subject is a funeral proces- sion. Though the drawing is primitive and the figures are symbolical, the deco-

[a] Detail from a Dipylon Vase.

[b] Geometric Amphora. Dipylon Style. Colossal size. 8 ih cent. b.g. National Museum, Athens. Such vases were erected as monuments over tombs. The scene in the band between the handles represents a funeral with the deceased lying on a bier surrounded by mourners. yf yy

rative quality is far more effective than in later, more naturalistic drawing (Fig. 164A). As we stand by these huge Dipy- lon jars we feel something of the maj- esty of the Hera of Samos (Fig. 130A), whose prototypes were probably being carved in wood when the Dipylon pe- riod was at its height.

Considering the extent of his pottery- making, the number of shapes which the Greek used is surprisingly small. Having worked out a few, each according to its functional requirements, he devoted himself to refining proportions, con- tours, placement of the handles, and decoration. Here again is the same in- terest in refinements within narrow lim- itations that we saw was a dominant interest in architecture and sculpture. Of these shapes those most frequently found are: the amphora, the general stor- age jar (Fig. 146 a); the hydria, the water jar (Fig. 147A); the crater, the bowl for mixing wine (Fig. 1470); the cylix, the drinking-cup (Fig. 146B); the oinochoe, the wine pitcher (Fig. 146c); and the lecythos, the oil flask (Fig. 147B). In determining the uses of these vases 1 we are guided by the paintings on the pottery; for in these paintings the Greeks have given us an amazing revelation of their everyday life (Fig. 153A),

1 The common, though misleading, term generally used in speaking of Greek pottery. One needs to remember that these “vases” were largely the pots and pans of everyday life and the containers used by the trader, though some were used for religious and funereal purposes.

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[a] Corinthian Oinochoe. Black and purple figures on a yellowish-brown clay base. H. #§ in. First quarter 6 th cent. b.c. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Mew York City, ( Metropolitan Museum )

As the Greek expanded his trade and colonization, we see evidences in his pot- tery of closer contact with the older civilizations of the Near East. Rows of animals (Fig. 149 a); winged beasts, and rosettes recall Assyria (Fig. 95A); the lotus, Egypt. With the passing of the seventh century b.c. the Greek drew in upon his chief concern — himself and his immediate interests, secular and re- ligious. The animal friezes and geo- metric motifs, often so decorative and suitable as motifs on a curving surface, disappeared before the frankly human- istic attitude. Probably no other people have used the human figure so pre- ponderantly in ceramic decoration as did the Greeks.

The Frangois Vase (Fig. 149B) is a crater with volute handles, of extraor- dinary vigor both in its shape and in its proportion, and decorated with concen- tric bands filled with human and ani- mal figures. These are painted in a

[b] Frangois Crater. H. c. 2 ft. First half 6 th cent. b.c. Named after the man who found it in a grave in Italy. Archeological Museum , Florence. (Furtwangler-Reichhold)

brownish-black glaze with touches of white or purple on the natural reddish clay, which is left as a background. On the foot, in the battle of the cranes and pigmies, is animated movement and decorative patterning. The rays above happily suggest the spreading move- ment of the surface of the crater, but this is halted abruptly by the horizontal bands, in some of which one feels the preponderance of the narrative interest over the decorative. Here are pictured various mythological scenes, the Caly- donian hunt, the funeral games of Pa- troclus, the procession of the gods to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis.

Soon the touches of white and purple tended to disappear, leaving the figure in black alone against the reddish clay (known as the black-figured style). The glaze had now, after centuries of experi- ment, become a velvety jet-black color. In this glaze the figures were painted on the natural red clay and the details

ANCIENT ART

[a] Amphora , Painted hy Exekias. Ajax and Achilles Playing Draughts. Black- figured. 550-525 b.c. Vati- can, Pome. ( Furtwangler - Reichhold) The analysis re- veals a basic egg shape and a subtle relationship of part to part. The jar probably had a cover which contributed to the shape and proportions.

incised with some hard pointed instru- ment, exposing the red beneath. Occa- sionally a little white and purple were added. The zonal arrangement disap- peared and in its place a few larger figures furnished the decoration, some- times grouped in a reserved panel, as in an amphora of Exekias (Fig. 150A). This is a strong compact shape in which the handles not only harmonize with the curve as an integral part of the de- sign, but are attached in such a way

that they appear to fulfill their function of supporting the weight. The surface is painted solid black, except for the band with rays just above the base, the decorated panel on the body, and the handles. In the large panel we see Ajax and Achilles seated on stools, bend- ing intently over their game of draughts. Ajax, on the right, as the inscription tells us, calls out “Three”; Achilles, on the left, “Four.” It is a close game. All the elements make for a design that is

GREEK ART

I 5'

[a] Cylix Painted by Euphronios. Cattle of Geryon. Red-figured. D.ij in. c.500 b.c. Munich. (Furtwangler-Reichhold)

balanced, yet subtly .varied: one hero is helmeted, the other not; r slight differ- ences occur in the position of the limbs and the spears and the decoration of the shields. There is much greater natural- ism than formerly in the pose and the proportion of the figures, and greater

freedom in drawing. The skill and sure- handedness seen in the profusion and the delicacy of the incised lines of the hair, and in the very elaborate cloaks, are a delight in themselves. We recog- nize a kinship, stylistically but without infringement of medium, between this

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work and archaic sculpture in the for- mal and decorative beauty of the figures and of the schematic devices used for details. A cylix of Exekias (Fig. 154A), with a representation of Dionysus sail- ing over the sea carrying his gifts to mankind, is even more decorative in its adaptation of the figures to the circular shape.

In Figure 15 1 A, we notice a change from black figures on red to red figures on black (known as the red-figured style) . The natural reddish clay was covered with a red slip and polished. The decorator then incised his design on the clay, next painted it, frequently in a slightly raised line, and finally filled in the background with black glaze. The advantage of the red-figured proc- ess over the black-figured was that a line painted by a brush was more free and facile than one incised by a metal tool. The school of painting that was rapidly developing at this time in Athens was probably a primary influence on the style of pottery decoration. And the pop- ularity of the cylix at this time may be due to the fact that its broad flatfish surfaces offered a large enough area for groups of figures. Yet, paradoxically, the potter was concentrating, as were the builders and the carvers, upon the ni- ceties of form — proportion, thinness of walls, character of profile, integration of handle with body. Nor did he en- large his limited color scheme: the pol- ished coppery red against a velvety black that creates such an effect of reserved elegance. Yet one feels creep- ing into the craft a conflict between ceramics — the art of clay shapes with suitable decoration — and painting; be- tween clinging to the limitation of the medium and vying with the painter. In fact, some of the inscriptions on the pottery say that So-and-So “made me” So-and-So “painted me.” This shows an attempt to combine the two arts — to the advantage of neither. And yet

another art seems to have influenced the craft, that of the metalworker. Greek pottery was thrown on the wheel and turned until it was highly refined. As a result, in its rigidly perfect walls and contours and in the exceptional thin- ness of its walls, it participates in quali- ties peculiar to metalwork.

In the cylix of Euphronios (Fig. 151 a) are represented scenes from one of the labors of Heracles, the cattle of Geryon — on one side the fight over the cattle, on the other side the animals being driven away by four youths. Though the narrative element is lively, the"effect is still primarily decorative. In the herd of cattle the flat silhouettes of the bodies are shaped to the space, and in the cen- tral disk the figures of the youth and the horse form a compact pattern that seems to partake of the rotary motion of the circle and at the same time to restrain that movement by the severely angular lines of the cloak. To compose the figures pictorially also concerned the decorator. All the figures are drawn with fine firm lines that have a decora- tive quality of their own.

From the point of view of drawing the human figure, as a problem isolated from ceramics, it is interesting to note a gradual progression toward visual ap- pearance, a problem which occupied the Greek from the time of the Dipylon ware. In proportion as he neared his objective he seemed to lose his feeling for ceramic decoration, to allow the painter’s objectives to triumph over ceramic requirements, even though he kept the figure flat, drew and modeled with line alone, and included no details of background except a few hints in ab- stract form. This is true on some of the amphoras, in which the human figure is bent over the shoulder of the jar, thus marring the effect of figure drawing and adding nothing to decorative fitness.

The metalworker occupied a position as important as the potter’s, and his

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r 53

[a] Scene in a School. From a cylix painted by Duns. Red-figured. On the left the Athenian boy is taking a lesson on the lyre; in the center he is reciting before a master who is following with his scroll; at the right sits the boy's slave, who accompanies him to school; on the wall hang cylixes and lyres. (Furtwangler-Reichhold)

wares reflect the general style of his day. Bronze was always a favorite me- dium with the Greeks, who used it widely, not only for sculpture but also for various kinds of utensils — pots and pans, dishes for the table, sacrificial ves- sels, tools, weapons.

Another art, involving both metal- work and intaglio engraving, is seen in the coins. Strange though it may seem, the finest Greek coins were struck not at Athens nor even anywhere in con- tinental Greece, but in Magna Graecia, particularly at Syracuse in Sicily. In the Demareteion 1 (Fig. 1543a), on the ob- verse is a four-horse chariot, with a Vic- tory flying above; in the segment below, a running lion; and about the edge, a row of dots. On the reverse a profile head, perhaps of the nymph Arethusa,

1 These coins are named after Demarete, wife of the tyrant Gelon. According to one story, after their defeat at Himera the Carthaginians obtained very favorable terms from Gelon through the influence of Demarete, to whom

they gave a large amount of silver from which these coins were struck.

in a faint circle, is surrounded by four dolphins with a Greek inscription which reads in translation “of the Syracusans.” The coin is thicker and less even in shape than modern coins, and the metal runs up around the edge on one side of the reverse. This is because Greek coins were struck by hand on an anvil that held the die, 2 without a circular frame to keep the metal .from running over the edge. The relief, too, is higher than in modern coins, for the Greek was not hampered by the modern necessity for “stacking.” Though the object is small, there is a quiet orderliness and a feeling of amplitude. The circle of the disk is repeated by the dolphins and the inner ring, until the eye inevitably reaches the head in the center. The design is clear and effective, particu- larly when it is compared with that of later coins decorated with the same motif, in which the naturalistic tend- ency has entailed decorative loss. Fig-

2 Of course the skill of the engraver lay in the cutting of the die in intaglio, of which the finished coin is an impression.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Inside of a Cylix Painted by Exekias. Di- onysus Sailing over the Sea. Black-figured. D. 142 in. 550-525 b.c. Munich. ( Furtwangler - Reichhold)

[b] Silver Coins of Syracuse . a. Dema- reteion. c. 475 b.c. b. “ Medallion ” signed by Euaenetus. Late 5th cent. b.c. British Mu- seum, London.

GREEK ART

[a] Gem. Stag. Intaglio. Rock Crystal. W. i ~6 i n - 5& 1 cent ‘ B - G - Museum of Fine Arts , Boston. ( Boston Museum)

[b] Gem. Flying Heron. Engraved by Dexamenos. Bluish chalcedony. L. s in. 450-440 b.g. Hermitage, Leningrad.

ure i54Bb is an example. Here the relief is still higher, casting considerable shadow; the hair is arranged natural- istically, with ringlets to soften the contours; the dolphins are subordinate because of the larger size of the head; a circle of dots encloses the design. On the reverse is the victorious four-horse chariot, seen three-quarters view, dash- ing forward under the lash of the driver, toward whom a Victory is flying with the crown; in the segment below is a suit of armor, the prize of the race . 1

Another activity of the engraver lay in the carving of gems that were mounted in rings and used as seals. Perhaps an inheritance from the Cretan was the love of animal and bird forms and their frequent use on the seals (Fig. 155A). In the Flying Heron (Fig. 155B) we see a sympathetic observation of nature in the erect head, the legs thrust back, and the position of the wings. The oval shape of the body, repeating the oval shape of the seal, combines with the sharp angles of the beak and the wings, cut with firm crisp lines, to create a design admirably adapted to the shape of the gem. Like the coins, the gems are relief sculpture in miniature. In carving them

1 This coin, type is indicative of the popu- larity of chariot-racing in Syracuse.

the craftsman probably used a metal drill with powdered emery and oil, so that the process required not only keen eyesight but- a very sensitively trained touch and a patience that considered neither time nor money.

SUMMART

Greek art from its earliest days to the late fifth century passed through two stages of the evolution of the Greek style: the archaic, and the climax or classic. In all its manifestations it dis- played niceties of relationship within extraordinary limitations.

The temple was the chief type of building. It was small in size and simple in plan, and during these centuries ad- mitted little variation. But its propor- tions and the interrelationships of its details were increasingly refined, until it reached a climax in the Doric Par- thenon and the Ionic Erechtheum.

Sculpture served two functions: to add color, movement, and enrichment to the exterior surfaces of the temple, and to supply votive and commemora- tive statues. Bronze and polychromed stone were the chief materials, The style, by a Series of experiments and by tem- pering conventional devices with natu-

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156

[a] Demeter. From the temple of Demeter at Cnidus. Marble, c. 350 b.g. British Museum , London. [Clarence Kennedy )

ralism, evolved from the geometric and early archaic to the climax stage of its cycle either in the late archaic, as at Olympia, or in the work of the Periclean age. All this sculpture shows a broadly generalized, impersonal aspect of the figure, with attention upon proportions and increasing movement.

Pottery and metalwork followed the same trend. Shapes remained the same but submitted to refinement of propor- tions and precision of contour. And though probably in the fifth century decorators were too much under the influence of the contemporary school of painting, still they revealed ability in composing figures within areas diffi- cult to fill.

Fourth-Century and Hellenistic Art

(4OO B.G. TO THE FIRST CENTURY B.C.)

T HE disastrous Peloponnesian War left Greece drained of its strength and reduced Athens politically to a sec- ondary place. Sparta and then Thebes took the leadership, both unsuccessfully, until Philip of Macedon, shrewdly play- ing upon mutual jealousies, brought the country into subjection and a semblance of unity. The work of his son Alexander was to spread Hellenic culture over large areas of the East by his conquests. Athens was no longer the center of this civilization, but only a provincial city- state in comparison with the magnifi- cent cosmopolitan metropolises of Asia Minor and Egypt — Ephesus, Rhodes, Pergamon, Alexandria (Fig. 121A).

Another result of the Peloponnesian War was to turn the Greek from his ideal of the state to that of the in- dividual. “Know thyself/ 5 Socrates had taught as he went about daily among the people in the streets, the agora, and the gymnasium and by questioning en- deavored to help them to gain “wis- dom” empirically, to weigh and judge out of their own experience rather than to consult an oracle. The serene ideal- ism of the fifth century that was born of a simple robust faith and had pro- duced the Parthenon and Sophocles gave way to the unrest of skepticism, to real- ism, and to the intellectual independ- ence of Plato and Aristotle. The spirit of eager inquiry, inherited from the earlier Ionian philosophers and mathe- maticians, became a truly scientific mentality in such thinkers as Aristotle and Archimedes, and made valuable contributions to science, measuring with fair accuracy the circumference and the

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• 57

[a] Corinthian Capital. From the Temple of the Olympian %eus, Athens. W. 8% ft. National Museum, Athens.

diameter of the earth, long since known to be spherical, and discovering many facts about astronomy, geometry, the natural sciences, and medicine.

While Greece had been passing through the cycle of growth, flower- ing, and decay, Rome, in the Italian peninsula, had been slowly developing. Gradually it had conquered Italy, Sicily, and Carthage, and then, partly through circumstance and partly through desire for expansion, it came eastward, de- feated the Macedonian power, and made Greece a Roman province. While this was a political victory, it was not a cultural one. Hellenic ideas continued to dominate both in the East and in the West, though deeply modified by the taste of the victors, and under new con- ditions even furnished many of the fun- damentals of medieval culture.

ARCHITECTURE

The result of the Peloponnesian War was a cessation of building in the coun- tries immediately affected. But in Asia Minor there was great activity, and the Ionic temple reached a climax of gran- deur, if not of refinement, in the Temple

of Artemis {Diana) at Ephesus, a perip- teral temple with a double colonnade and elaborately sculptured bases for many of the columns 1 — an illustration of the emphasis upon ornament for its own sake at the expense of the clarity, unity, and proportion of the fifth-cen- tury temples.

The more varied, complex, and cos- mopolitan culture, especially of the Hel- lenistic age, created a demand for a greater variety of buildings — choralgic and sepulchral monuments {Monument of Lysicrates and Mausoleum of Halicarnas- sus), sumptuous open-air altars {Per- gamon), theaters (at Epidaurus, of Dionysus at Athens), civic structures (stoas), and even for towns and cities as a whole {Priene and Ephesus). For the conception of town-planning in the modern sense had been heretofore largely lacking. Athens, Delphi, Olympia, were groups of buildings set down hit or miss, whereas Priene was laid out on a plan definitely related to the topography of the site and to the activities of the com' munity.

1 For a restoration of this temple see W. J. Anderson and R. P. Spiers, The Architecture of Ancient Greece, Scribner, 1927, PI. L.

158

ANCIENT ART

[a] Praxiteles. • Hermes with the Infant Dionysus. Marble. H. 7 ft. c. 330 b. c. Olympia.

The Doric order practically disap- peared with the ascendancy of the Ionic and its variant, the Corinthian. It is chiefly the capital (Fig. 157A) that dif- ferentiates the latter two. The Corin- thian capital has a bell-shaped core decorated with two rows' of conven- tionalized acanthus leaves from which rise volutes, the longer ones reaching out to support the corners of the abacus, the shorter uniting with a floral orna-

ment to decorate the core, the whole design successfully effecting the transi- tion from the circular column to the rectangular abacus. The Corinthian or- der was a favorite with the Romans and appears in the Greco-Roman buildings erected after the Romans appeared in the East, such as the Temple of the Olympian ifeus (Figs. 1 59A, 1 23 Ag) , which, though built by Greeks on the plan of the Parthenon (except for the double colonnade), in scale at least and hence in grandiose impressiveness represents a different age and a different ideal from those of the Parthenon on the Acropolis near by.

SCULPTURE

Changing ideals also made themselves manifest in sculpture, though its func- tion remained much the same as in the sixth and fifth centuries. Skepticism as to the old faith, the enhancement of the individual, reliance upon reason — changes such as these foretokened that the generalization and the impersonal- ity of the fifth century would give way to something individual and personal, to an expression of personal emotions and idiosyncrasies .In the Hermes of Praxiteles (Fig. 1 58A) , for example, one is inclined to feel a definite personal charm more insistently than one feels marble. The god is represented stand- ing, resting his weight on the left arm, a pose that gives an easy curve to the body. On this arm he holds the infant Dionysus, who reaches for something (probably a bunch of grapes) that the god is holding in his right hand. There is a languid ease and grace throughout ' the figure. Hermes is looking not at the child, but off into space, with a dreamy expression in his eyes and a half-smile playing about his mouth; the whole figure, particularly the head, is deep in the mood of reverie. The modeling is exquisite. Soft shadows follow the planes

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159

as they flow imperceptibly one into an- other. The marble is finished with the utmost delicacy, so that over the fea- tures a fleeting expression seems to glide; and the delicacy is enhanced by the contrastingly rough way in which the hair is indicated, and by the deep

[a] Temple of the Olympian Zeus. Athens . 1J4 b.g.-a.d. 131. Columns: H. 56 ft., D. 6 ft. 4 in. For plan see Fig. i2$Ag. {Dmitri Kessel, Life Magazine)

folds of the realistic drapery, whose [ B ] Aphrodite. Found at Cyrene in North

broken masses, again by contrast, stress Africa. Marble, c. 100 b.c. after 4th cent.

the flowing surfaces of the figure. type. Terme ( National ) Museum, Rome. Aphrodites were popular. Something

of their style we may see in the Aphrodite These fourth-century sculptors, how-

of Cyrene (Fig. 159B), and in a Head from ever, did not entirely abandon the tra-

Chios (Boston Museum) in which the features seem veiled, so imperceptibly do the planes merge. Such effects as these can be obtained only by brilliant technical skill in stone-carving. The work of Scopas — to judge from a few rather battered heads — shows inten-

ditions of the fifth century, as we see in the Demeter of Cnidus (Fig. 1 56A) , in which the generalized majesty of Phidias is com- bined with the individual humanness of Scopas and Praxiteles. The goddess is heavily draped in her cloak, one corner of which is drawn up over the back of

sity of feeling, conveyed especially by the head, throwing into relief the qui- means of the upturned head and the etly tragic face. But compare the drap- deep-set eyes shadowed by heavy brows. ery of the Demeter with that of the

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160

[a] Frieze of the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, c. 35a b.g. British Museum, London. (. British Museum)

single Fate (Fig. 143B). In the former, the casualness of the folds of actual doth, copying the accidents of natural appearance, has taken the place of a carefully considered design based upon natural appearance. Therein lies one difference between the fourth century and the fifth: The fourth-century (and later) sculptors were motivated by a desire to present in their statues an illusion of natural appearance,* the fifth- century sculptors were motivated by a desire to control their presentations by the limitations imposed by the nature of stone; that is, to reconcile content and medium. This is again illustrated in one of the friezes on the Mausoleum (Fig. i6oa) depicting a fight between Greeks and Amazons. The figures are thin and lithe, somewhat strained in pose; their faces have the same expres- sion of human passion as their bodies; and the restless drapery intensifies the impetuosity that sweeps through the group — all at the expense of those pre- cise formal relationships which made for the decorative beauty of fifth-cen- tury friezes.

An important sculptor of the genera- tion following Praxiteles and Scopas

was Lysippus, court sculptor of Alex- ander the Great. No work of his is known to be extant, but two important innovations of this time may possibly be credited to him. One was the change in taste, noticeable in all the arts, in the matter of proportions. The new canon of taste required a more slender, supple figure. This may, indeed, have been influenced by the second innova- tion (foreshadowed to be sure in earlier work), the realization of the figure in space, truly three-dimensional carving (Fig. i6ia). Volume always exists in a statue in the round, but by no means is there always a visual grasp of space. The earliest figures were in a stiff frontal position, with the planes closely related to the four sides of the stone block, and could be seen best from only one or two positions. Even when the figure was loosened up, especially in the limbs, and then was thrown into a curve, it was still more or less four-sided and seen satisfactorily only from some one or two points of view. In this respect the Apollo (Fig. 1 31 a) and the Hermes (Fig. 158A) are more closely related than the Hermes and the Apoxyomenos (Fig. i6ia). This statue is still limited by the ideal space

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161

[a] Lysippus (?). Copy of the Apoxyome- nos. Marble . Late 4th cent. b.c. Vatican, Rome.

[b] Nike of Samothrace. To commemorate a naval victory in 306 b.c. Louvre, Paris.

determined by the block of stone, but within it the planes swing backward and forward, and from any point of view the eye is carried easily and inevitably through this space. 1

Such a movement of planes is found in the Nike of Samothrace (Fig. i6ib), as is clearly seen if the statue is compared with the Nike of Paeonius, or the Nike

1 Comparisons for three-dimensional quality- can be made intelligently only by seeing the figures from several points of view. Series to illustrate this evolution can be found in Richter, op, cit.

on the east pediment of the Parthenon. The turn in the torso not only guides into depth but produces a feeling of movement that is strongly supplemented by the clinging wind-swept drapery, whose restless curves and minute folds are so complicated that they almost be- come a tour de force. As it is, the sculp- tor just saved himself by bringing their main lines into harmony with the planes of the figure.

The tendency toward restlessness and the expression of intense feeling reached a climax in the Altar at Pergamon, on the

ANCIENT ART

frieze of which is represented the battle pia , and on the Parthenon. It is a matter between the gods and the giants (Fig. of taste.

1 62 a). Athena, moving rapidly toward Realism reached a climax in such the right, clutches one of the winged statues as the Aphrodite of Syracuse, in

giants by the hair, forcing him to the which the feeling for stone as stone has

ground; on the right Earth, mother of quite surrendered to the ambition of

the giants, a half-length figure, looks to making stone look like soft warm flesh.

Athena appealingly; above her, Victory It again reveals itself in the modeling

approaches to crown the goddess. Force of the Pergamon figures; in the Laocoon

is there, powerfully displayed. The (Vatican), in which intensity of emo-

artist obtained it by using- violent con- tion and of movement is seen not only

trasts, such as those in the lines of direc- in the modeling but in the faces and in

tion in the bodies of Athena and the the writhing serpents, which however

giant; by extravagant modeling; and tie the three figures into a compact

by the agonized expression of the faces. group; and in the Hellenistic pictorial

The restless base reflects the baroque reliefs such as the Peasant Going to Mar -

taste of Hellenistic culture, just as the ket (Vienna) . The subject matter be-

austere Olympian and Phidian sculp- came more varied and included genre

tures reflect that of the fifth century. If (Fig. 163A), now trivial or frivolous, now

one wishes violent movement with real- charming, now repulsive — the work

istic details, one finds it at Pergamon; if frequently of high technical excellence,

one wishes quiet movement with con- but hardly of significance,

ventional details clearly related, one In the midst of unconvincing, insig- finds it on the Siphnian Treasury, at Olym- nificant expressions, however brilliant

GREEK ART

[a] Old Market Woman. Marble. 2d cent. b.c. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. ( Metropolitan Museum)

[b] Lady with a Fan. Tanagra figurine. Terra cotta, painted. H. 8 in. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

they may be technically, one usually finds archaistic tendencies, as has been noted. For in an age of decline, as the seeds of a new era are being sown, the most sensitive artists are likely to turn for stimulation to more robust works, to primitive and archaic art. This prob- ably explains the simple dignity and calm of the Aphrodite (Venus) of Melos (Louvre), which seems to share the fifth- century largeness of expression without sharing its vitality. Other examples ac-

tually copy the earlier forms, especially the conventions for the drapery and the hair.

One group in the field of late sculp- ture stands alone, the Tanagra Figurines, perhaps the most charming examples of Greek genre (Fig. 1 63B) . Thousands have been found, chiefly in graves, and their purpose is unknown. They represent all kinds of everyday scenes, trivial in sub- ject but. dainty in execution and bright in color. The robes are usually rose or

164

ANCIENT ART

[a] Vase Painting. British Museum, London. {Gardner, The Principles of Greek Art, Macmillan)

blue, the hair a reddish brown, the shoes red; and the fans or other acces- sories have touches of gilding. In all of them there is a natural grace and charm. These figurines frequently re- veal a spontaneous momentary pose suitable for expression in clay, and in them we see true clay technique. Great quantities of these figurines were made in molds, a single subject often being constructed out of several parts, so that by changing the head or the arms a considerable amount of variety could be obtained.

PAINTING

In the fourth century and the Hellen- istic age we find the same situation as in the fifth century. While we know that a flourishing school of painting existed, no paintings are extant. Zeuxis and Parrhasius (fifth and fourth centuries), Apelles and Protogenes (of the time of Alexander the Great) are characters in famous stories which stress technical

skill and realism, the same characteris- tics that we find in sculpture. A basis for actual knowledge or judgment of their painting is quite lacking.

While the Greek painters experi- mented in perspective, light and shade, and color, line seems to have been their pre-eminent means of expression, used both to model and express volume and also calligraphically (Fig. 164A). In the Alexander Mosaic (Fig. 165A), which is probably a Roman copy based on a Greek painting, we perhaps catch a glimpse of a Greek composition on a large scale, though allowance should be made for the mosaic technique. It is a battle scene, usually thought to rep- resent the Battle of the Issus. The center of interest is the wounded horseman in the foreground falling from his steed. Darius is fleeing in his chariot, but he looks back at the wounded man with anguish in his face and arm outstretched as if in helpless appeal. Another horse- man in the foreground has dismounted, and while attempting to hold his horse

GREEK ART

[a] Battle Scene between Alexander and Darius. Faun , Pompeii. L. iy ft. c. ioo b.c. Naples Museum.

From the floor of the House of the

looks toward his wounded companion as if to offer his mount. Here, then, is a well-defined center of interest toward which all the main lines of the composi- tion lead. The group occupies a shallow space terminated by the flat background toward which the eye is led by the fore- shortened horses. Thus there is move- ment in space as well as laterally. The background is flat, with no indication of landscape except a gnarled tree. The upper part of the panel is unbroken ex- cept for the tree and the spears, which unite the upper and lower parts of the picture and provide an interesting con- trast to the vigor and movement of the lower part as well as a contrast of diag- onal to curvilinear line direction.

METALWORK

In the fifth century b.c. the ceramic industry was already declining, for un- known reasons, and by the fourth had almost disappeared. But the work of the goldsmith was much in demand, not only about the Aegean but among

the Scythians and the Sarmatians of southern Russia . 1 From the earliest days jewelry -— necklaces, earrings, pins, bracelets, rings — was important in the costume of Greek women (though not of the men, as it was in Egypt, As- syria, and Crete), and the art of the goldsmith may have been an inherit- ance from the Aegean. Before the Hel- lenistic age gold was used chiefly for its own sake, for its color and texture, and for the shimmer of surface which re- sulted from the various processes of working it — casting, repousse, engrav- ing, soldering, granulation, filigree— in which high quality of workmanship con- tinued through the fourth century. Vari- ations of color were achieved through a sparing use of enamel, In the Hel- lenistic age the quality of craftsmanship declined and the introduction of semi- precious stones added a more obvious richness.

1 See pages 101-02. Note particularly the mu- tual interactions of racial art traditions, the Ira- nian tending toward conventional treatment, the Greek toward naturalistic.

i66

ANCIENT ART

SUMMARY

After the fifth century, Greek build- ing activity centered outside the Greek mainland, particularly in Asia Minor, and because of the more cosmopolitan character of late Greek civilization, broadened its scope to include secular structures. Buildings became grandiose in scale, with elaborated Ionic or Co- rinthian orders predominating.

In sculpture, easy grace and human emotions replaced the more rugged and impersonal sculpture of the fifth cen- tury, with a concentration on delicate surface treatment. As sculptural form became truly three-dimensional — or- ganized in space with movement through the space — details became realistic, and technical virtuosity led to giving the stone the appearance of flesh, in complete disregard of the limi- tations of the material. Thus much late Greek sculpture lacked truly sculptural quality.

Painting, all examples of which are now lost, appears to have functioned as mural decoration in public buildings and as panels; and to have sought to express volume in the figures and to place them in space, a spatial concept analogous to that seen in sculpture. Thus its trend was in the direction of an imitation of visual perception.

In its spread over the Near East, Hel- lenistic art mingled with Eastern forces, and the fusion was to result in the flow- ering, centuries later, of Byzantine art.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Alexander, Christine, Jewelry, the Art of the Goldsmith in Classical Times, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1928 Anderson, William J., and Spiers, R. P., The Architecture of Ancient Greece, rev. by W. B. Dinsmoor, Vol. I of The Architecture of Greece and Rome, 2 vols., London, 1927

Beazley, John D., Attic Black-Figure, Oxford University Press, 1928

and Ashmole, Bernard, Greek

Sculpture and Painting to the End of the Hellen- istic Period, Macmillan, 1932 Bell, Edward, Hellenic Architecture, Harcourt, Brace, 1920

Boas, George, ed., The Greek Tradition, Johns Hopkins Press, 1939

Borovka, Gregory, Scythian Art, tr. by V. G. Childe, Stokes, 1928

British Museum, A Catalogue of Sculpture in the Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, Pts. I— II, Museum, London, 1928-31

■ — — A Guide to the Principal Coins of

the Greeks from about yoo B.c. to A.D. syo. Museum, London, 1932

Budde, Erich G., Helladic Greece, Rhode Island School of Design, Bulletin of the Museum of Art, December 1939, pp. 1— 17 Buschor, Ernst, Greek Vase-Painting, tr. by G. G. Richards, Dutton, 1922

Carpenter, Rhys, The Esthetic Basis of Greek Art of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries b.c., Long- mans, Green, 1921

Casson, Stanley, The Technique of Early Greek Sculpture , Oxford University Press, 1933 Charbonneaux, Jean, La sculpture grecque ar- chaique, Paris, 1938

La sculpture grecque classique, Paris,

1943

Collignon, Maxime, ed., Le Parthenon, 8 pts., Paris, 1910-12

Cossio, Manuel Bartolomd, and Pijo&n, Jose, Summa Artis, Vols. I-X, Madrid, 1931-46: Vol. IV

Encyclopedic photographique de I’art, Vols. I— III, Paris, Edition “Tel,” 1935-38: Vols. II— III Fowler, Harold N., Wheeler, J. R., and Stevens, G. P ., A Handbook of Greek Archaeology, American Book Company, 1909 Fyfe, David Theodore, Hellenistic Architecture, Macmillan, 1936

Gardiner, Edward N., Olympia: Its History & Remains, Oxford University Press, 1925 Gardner, Ernest A., Ancient Athens, new ed., Macmillan, 1907

The Art of Greece, Studio, 1925

Greece and the Mgean, McBride,

1934

A Handbook of Greek Sculpture,

2d ed., Macmillan, 1929 Gardner, Percy, The Principles of Greek Art, Macmillan, 1914

and Blomfield, Sir Reginald,

Greek Art and Architecture, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1922

Goodyear, William H., Greek Refinements, Studies in Temperamental Architecture, Yale Univer- sity Press, 1912

GREEK ART

Grinnell, Isabel H., Greek Temples, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1943

Hege, Walter, and Rodenwaldt, Gerhart, Olympia, Berlin, 1936

Hoyningen-Huene, George, and Davis, George, and others, eds., Hellas, 2d rev. ed., Augustin, 1944

Johansen, Peter, Phidias and the Parthenon Sculp- tures, tr. by Ingeborg Andersen, Copen- hagen, 1925

Lamb, Winifred, Greek and Roman Bronzes, Dial Press, 1929

Laurie, Arthur P., Greek and Roman Methods of Painting, Putnam, 1910

Lawrence, Arnold W., Classical Sculpture, Peter Smith, 1929

— — — — - Later Greek Sculpture, Harcourt,

Brace, 1927

Livingstone, Sir Richard Winn, The Greek Genius and Its Meaning to Us, 2d ed., Ox- ford University Press, 1915

■ — — — ed., The Legacy of Greece, Oxford

University Press, 1921

Loewy, Emanuel, The Rendering of Nature in Early Greek Art, tr. by John Fothergill, London, 1907

Marquand, Allan, Greek Architecture , Macmillan,

1909

Metropolitan Museum, Greek Painting, Museum, New York City, 1944

Minns, Ellis H., Scythians and Greeks , Putnam, 1914

Paton, James M., ed., The Erechtheum, restored by G. P. Stevens, text by L. D. Caskey and others, Harvard University Press,

1927

Payne, Humfry, and Young, G. M., Archaic Marble Sculpture from the Acropolis, London, 1936

Pfuhl, Ernst, Masterpieces of Greek Drawing and Painting, tr. by J. D. Beazley, Macmillan, 1926

Pottier, Edmond, Douris and the Painters of Greek Vases, tr. by Bettina Kahnweiler, 2d ed., Dutton, 19x7

167

Poulsen, Frederik, Delphi, tr. by G. C. Richards, Bonnier, 1922

Richter, Gisela M. A., Ancient Furniture; A His- tory of Greek , Etruscan and Roman Furniture, Oxford University Press, 1926

— Animals in Greek Sculpture, Oxford

University Press, 1 930

The Craft of Athenian Pottery, Yale

University Press, 1923

Handbook of the Classical Collection,

6th ed., Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1930

— The Sculpture and Sculptors of the

Greeks, 2d ed., Yale University Press, 1930 Ridder, Andre H. P. de, and Deonna, Walde- mar, Art in Greece, tr. by V. C. C. Collum, Knopf, 1927

Robertson, Donald S., A Handbook of Greek and Roman Architecture, Macmillan, 1929 Rodenwaldt, Gerhart, Die Kunst der Antike, Berlin, 1927

— — and Hege, Walter, Die Akropolis,

2d ed., Berlin, 1930

Roes, Anna, Greek Geometric Art; Its Symbolism and Its Origin , Oxford University Press, 1 933 Rostovtzeff, Michael Ivanovich, The Animal Style in South Russia and China, Princeton Uni- versity Press, 1929

Iranians and Greeks in South Russia ,

Oxford University Press, 1922

— — — Out of the Past of Greece and Rome,

Yale University Press, 1932 Schrader, Hans, Die Archaischen Marrriorbild- iverke der Akropolis, Frankfurt-am-Main, 1939

Smith, A. H., The Sculptures of the Parthenon, British Museum, London, 1910 Solon, L6on V., Polychromy, Architectural Record, 1924

Swindler, Mary H., Ancient Painting, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1929

Warren, Herbert L., The Foundations of Classic Architecture, Macmillan, 1919 Zervos, Christian, Dart en Grece, Paris, 1934

1 68

ANCIENT ART

[a] Sarcophagus from Cervetri. Terra cotta , painted. 6th— 5th cent. b.c. Villa Papa Giulio, Rome. {Anderson)

A LTHOUGH the early histories of l Greece and Italy run nearly paral- lel chronologically, the former reached a climax in the fifth and fourth cen- turies b.c., a period during which the latter was still slowly developing. The story of early Rome is a story of struggle for existence, particularly against the Etruscans, who came to Italy probably from Asia Minor and were closely allied

culturally to the Greeks. In the sixth century b.c. they were in control of all Italy from their heavily fortified cities — Corneto, Cervetri, Veii, Perugia, Or- vieto, Praeneste, and other sites in what is now Tuscany. They were farmers, traders on sea as well as on land, cruel warriors, and pirates. At home they lived luxuriously in gaily decorated houses, feasted and danced unrestrain-

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

[b] Archer. Bronze, c. Jth cent. b.c. British Museum , London.

[a] Apollo of Veii. Terra cotta, painted, c. 500 b.c. Villa Papa Giulio, Rome. {Anderson)

edly. They were adept in working metal and clay. They constructed their forti- fications, city gates, bridges, aqueducts, and sewers of heavy stone masonry on the arch principle; small buildings they made of wood gaily painted or faced with colored terra-cotta tiles. Their tem- ple was based upon the Greek prostyle plan (Fig. 123AC), rested on a high base with a flight of steps, and was probably made of brick with wooden columns and a heavy wooden superstructure brightly painted . 1 With an emphasis upon a fu- ture life not unlike that of the Egyp-

1 There is no even fairly well preserved Etrus- can temple extant. For a reconstruction see Anderson and Spiers, The Architecture of Ancient Rome, PI. VIII; or S. F. Kimball and G.. Hi Edgell, A History of Architecture, Harper, 1918, Fig. 37,

tian, they paid much attention to burial, so that the tombs, which were built or carved in the hillside, and which imi- tated the interior of Etruscan houses, furnish us in their wall paintings a pic- ture of Etruscan life. The sarcophagi, with their recumbent figures, supply some of the best examples of sculpture.

The Etruscans showed a peculiar preference for clay — a local material both excellent in quality and abun- dant. For architectural decoration they made terra-cotta tiles which are highly decorative in their pattern and gay col- ors, notably so the masklike roof tiles. Likewise their sculpture in the round, the Apollo of Veii (Fig. 169A), for example, is clay rather than stone, though one feels the archaic Greek stone prototype. But in the awkward vigor of the stride,

ANCIENT ART

[a] Tomb of the Leopards . Corneto. 5th cent . B.c.

in the boldly conceived form, and in the striking, conventional use of color there is the crude vigor of the Etruscan. In the recumbent figures of the sarcoph- agi is a similar eager vitality. Even if the later clumsy cinerary urns show lack of sensitiveness, the early life-sized mortuary figures, such as the examples in the British Museum, the Louvre, and in Rome (Fig. i68a), reveal a definite relationship between the figures and the sarcophagus. With the flowing surfaces painted in conventional color, with the patternlike archaic features and expres- sive hands, they are direct and convinc- ing both in form and in the expression of an inner vitality and significance.

Another favorite medium was bronze" 1 (Fig. 169B). In the head of the so- called Orator (Fig. 173A) is a forceful personality, realistically portrayed; in the Chimera (Florence) a more conven- tional treatment, very vital and deco-

rative; in both, a fine technical com- mand of the material. Bronze was used also for many smaller objects — ciner- ary urns, toilet boxes, and mirrors, which were engraved with mytholog- ical and genre scenes imitative of the Greek products which were imported in great quantity by wealthy Etruscans. We feel in them a provincial Greek art with a stamp of verve and boldness and with an unusual decorative beauty — qualities that are repeated in Etruscan jewelry.

The same qualities impress one look- ing at an Etruscan tomb (Fig. 170A) fashioned after an actual Etruscan room with sloping roof. Both the roof and the walls are gaily painted, the roof chiefly with conventional, geometric de- signs, the walls with scenes of funeral banquets, dancing, athletic contests, hunting. These paintings, thoroughly decorative, are usually in fresco, though

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

at times painted directly on the stone. The bright color is used conventionally in flat tones within outlines, with no re- gard for the hues of nature, for one horse may have a red and a yellow leg or a blue coat and a red mane. In this Tomb of the Leopards (so called from the two hunting leopards in the gable) is a banquet scene perhaps too convention- ally imitative to be interesting except for the truly decorative quality of the lines and the lights and darks that fill the wall area. On the side wall, how- ever, are dancing figures filled with ac- tion and rhythmic movement that make charming decorative motifs. In like man- ner the Flute-Player (Fig. 171 a) of the Tomb of the Triclinium expresses the feel- ing of joyous movement, of the rhythm of inner vitality translated into objec- tive form by simple direct conventions.

What the art of Rome would have been had Roman civilization remained within the boundaries of Italy it is futile to ask. In its early days Rome employed

Etruscan builders and ceramic workers; and later it did not forget the high temple platform nor, eventually, Etrus- can realistic portraiture. But the fact is that its conquest of Etruria was fol- lowed by the subjugation of the entire peninsula; and thence, with an imperial policy well defined, Rome was forced to enlarge its boundaries until they in- cluded the entire Mediterranean basin and most of western Europe. Rome early came in contact with Greece and became aware of Greek art. But only in the late republican and Augustan ages came the terrific impact of Hellenism. “Conquered Greece led the conqueror captive,” conceded Horace, a poet of the Augustan age. Shiploads of Greek marbles and bronzes were brought to Rome by generals and provincial gov- ernors to adorn their palaces, and when the supply was exhausted, copies were made or Greek artists were em- ployed to create new ones. Art became to a large extent mere copying of Greek

172

ANCIENT ART

[a] Rome. A map to indicate the general location of important classical and medieval sites.

works. Finally assimilation took place, the spread of its civilization. Roman

and imperial Rome emerged as a prod- cities sprang up especially in what is

uct of Etruscan, Roman, and Greek now Spain, France, and England, each

elements. Possibly it was still strongly a center for the propagation of Roman

enough Greek for its art to be called government, language, and customs, and

a continuation of the Hellenic tradition closely connected with Rome by a well- working according to Roman tastes and planned system of roads and harbors,

ideals. In portrait sculpture and in ar- Both by force of circumstance and by

chitecture especially, however, Rome temperament the Roman was warlike,

made definite, individual contributions. practical, fond of pleasure. His life, in

In the main, the energy of Rome was comparison with the simplicity of the

utilized in conquest and administration, Athenian, was complex, for the de-

and its conquests opened the way for mands of life were much greater. Rome

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

[a] Orator. Bronze . 4th or 3d cent. b.c. Archaeological Museum, Florence.

about a.d. 200 was the magnificent capital of the greatest empire the world had yet known, an empire that was efficiently organized, with fifty thou- sand miles of magnificent highways and sea routes safe for travel and commerce. The city itself (Fig. 172A), of more than a million people, was both cosmopolitan and magnificent. The scale, power, and complexity of the Empire called for im- pressive scale in the structure and ap- pearance of its capital. And while the practical demands arising from the ad- ministration of a great empire required the building of roads, bridges, sewers, and aqueducts, the imperial ideal called for public buildings that would express adequately the dignity, power, and di- versified interests of the state. To build practically and grandly required skill in engineering. Thus- arose ■ Rome’s con- tribution to architecture, though its

chief gift to world civilization lay in the field of law and organization.

With the wealth that came with con- quest, there crept in pleasure-loving ideals, luxuriousness, and decay. In time the great Roman Empire became a hollow shell, and the frontiers gave way on all sides. By a.d. 500 Rome it- self had fallen before the Northern tribes that had been harassing its boundaries ever since Julius Caesar had driven them back in the first century b.c.

ARCHITECTURE

In Greek architecture we discerned a concentration upon the temple. In Rome, on the contrary, as the capital of a complex world empire, practical as well as esthetic needs led to the erec- tion of many kinds of buildings, secular as well as religious, and frequently on

174

ANCIENT ART

[a] Barrel Vault, [b] Groin Vault seen from above, [c] Groin Vault seen from below.

a scale hitherto untried. Ample ma- terial was at hand — abundant wood, stone (marble, travertine, tufa), good clays for brick, lava and pozzolana (sandy earth) for concrete. Those ma- terials not at hand could be imported easily by the Roman fleets — rare col- ored marbles, nearly fifty varieties of which were used for their color and texture. But ample as this material was, the quantity and scale of Roman build- ing precluded extensive use of solid stone masonry and of the lintel system. Brick and concrete covered with stucco or faced with stone or marble veneer supplanted solid stone construction,

with the arch rather than the lintel system as the structural principle.

The chief engineering problem in- volved in Roman architecture was how to enclose and roof over a vast space, to give it proper illumination and still keep the space open and free of the columns that would be necessary were a flat roof used, as in the hypostyle halls of Egypt (Fig. 64A). Given the problem of roofing over a rectangular room by the simplest arch system, the result will be a barrel vault (Fig, 1 74A), which is, in essence, a succession of arches joined together, resting directly upon the side walls, which must either be thick enough

[d] Pont du Gard. Mimes. Augustan Age.

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

[a] Temple of Fortum Virilis. Rome. c. 100 b.c. (Anderson)

to support the weight or be reinforced by buttresses. This vault can be made of stone or brick masonry, or it can be made of concrete by building up a tem- porary wooden framework (known as centering) the exact size and shape of the finished vault, to hold the mass until it is set. The vaulting that we see in Figure 1 74B and c and Figure 179 a has been made by cutting the barrel vault at right angles at regular intervals by other barrel vaults, securing what is known as the cross or groin vault, be- cause the line of intersection is called the groin. A barrel vault over so large an area not only would have been heavy in appearance but would have allowed no space for windows. The advantage of the groin vault is not only that it is lighter in appearance because of its broken surface but also that it admits of clerestory windows. The use of the groin vault secures another advantage. In the barrel vault the thrust — that is,i the downward and outward forces ex- erted by the vault — is felt along the entire length of the wall; in the groin

vault it is felt only at the points at which the groins converge. Hence it is at these points only that heavy buttress- ing is needed, and the interior is thus kept free of load-carrying walls. Proper support is secured by heavy walls built at right angles, which are pierced by arches and thus form side aisles to the main hall (Fig. 1 78A) .

Their public-service structures roads, bridges, aqueducts, sewers — the Romans, like the Etruscans, built sol- idly and well. Their stone bridges com- bine utilitarian requirements and fine sweep of line. The aqueducts, which still swing across the Campagna to bring the mountain water to Rome or span streams in several tiers as in the Pont du Gard (Fig. 174D), have a stark beauty of adequate function united to the rhyth- mic movement of well-spaced arches.

Among religious buildings, the Tem- ple of Fortum Virilis (Yxg. 175A) illustrates one type of temple derived obviously from the Greek peripteral style, but differing in the high base with project- ing moldings and a flight of steps ex-

176

ANCIENT ART

[a] Pantheon. D . and H. 142 ft. From an en- graving by Piranesi.

tending across the front. Its cella is larger than the Greek and becomes in- corporated with the colonnade part way along the sides and across the back. 1

The circular temple was also a popu- lar type. Sometimes it was peripteral, as in the temple near the Tiber in Rome and in that at Tivoli. Of all circular temples the most imposing is the Pan- theon (Fig. 177A), which consists of a cir- cular wall with but one opening, the doorway. On this wall rests a dome, low and rather inconspicuous on the exterior; at the entrance is a colonnaded portico of Greek design. As one steps within (Fig. 1 76A) one is surprised. For the dull unpromising exterior gives little hint of the wonderful spaciousness and light within. This impression results from a very simple space-design carried out on a large scale — a dome set on a circular wall and lighted by an aper- ture in the crown. The builder’s pur- pose seems to have been to make his dome impressive from the interior. The walls are covered with rich marble fac- ing; the dome is deeply coffered and was originally decorated with bronze

1 A column thus incorporated with the wall is known as an engaged column.

rosettes. Domes had been constructed before, but never on such a scale. The Roman’s ideal of great scale made him daring, while his practical nature and his engineering skill kept him within the bounds of structural possibilities. The walls, twenty feet thick, are made of brick and concrete and are solid ex- cept for the niches, about which are im- bedded in the masonry relieving arches of brick that extend the entire thickness of the wall and carry the thrust of the dome to the solid masonry. 2 The dome is constructed of horizontal layers of brick laid in thick cement, the load of Which is carried by a series of ribs con- verging on the crown. Between these ribs are the typical Roman coffers, which both diminish the weight and ornament the dome.

Civic buildings were important in an imperial capital, and together with im- portant temples were grouped about the forums. The Roman Forum was origi- nally the market place where the peas- ants brought their produce for sale; booths and shops ran along the sides. But religious and civic activities be-

2 For illustration see Anderson and Spiers, op. cit., p. 78, Fig. 19.

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

177

[a] Pantheon. Origi- nally the walls were faced with marble and stucco and the dome was covered with bronze plates, a.d. 120-124.

gan to encroach early; the shops were crowded out to the side streets and the Forum became primarily the center of the city’s civic life. In the open space were commemorative statues of emper- ors and generals, and the great platform from which public speeches were made; entirely surrounding it and crowning the surrounding hills were imposing buildings. The Imperial Forums, built by various emperors from Augustus on, reach a culmination in the Forum of Trajan (Fig. 177B), where all the units of the vast group are definitely related to one another and to a unified design, instead of being merely set down wher- ever there was space and the topog- raphy permitted, as in the old Roman Forum. It is perhaps illuminating to re- call that the Forum of Trajan was de- signed by an architect from the East, Apollodorus of Damascus. Hills were leveled to make space for this enormous forum, which in plan strikingly re- sembles, as scholars have pointed out, the Egyptian temple. Through a monu- mental archway one passed into an open court with colonnades on three sides and great circular wings with shops, thence into the basilica with its many

columns, and beyond into the temple of the deified emperor.

An important civic building was the basilica, a covered hall used for various purposes, particularly for a law court. It was an oblong structure with a semi-

TTTT

n

[b] Plan of the Forum of Trajan.

i 7 8

ANCIENT ART

[a] Basilica of Maxentius or Constantine. Rome. a.d. 306-312. Plan and section of recon * struction.

circular tribunal (or apse) at one end, where the judge sat, and was divided by rows of columns or piers into a cen- tral and side aisles. The roof of the central aisle was higher than that of the side aisles, thus permitting a clere- story. The structural principle was not the lintel system of the Fortuna Virilis (Fig. 175A) but the arcade; that is, a series of arches. Between the arches, however, are engaged columns that sup- port an entablature running the entire length of the building. In this arrange- ment we find one of the most charac- teristic features of Roman architecture: a combination of the arch and lintel systems. Structurally, it is the arch that is the vital part of the construction; the column and the entablature serve only as decoration. The Colosseum (Fig. i8oa) and the Arch of Titus (Fig. i8ia) illus- trate the principle. In the early basil- icas, the arcades supported a wooden roof. In a late example, the Basilica of Maxentius (Fig. 178A), fully developed vaulting was used, barrel over the aisles and groin over the nave, thus enabling the builder to make use of isolated sup-

ports and huge arches, overpowering even in the ruins today.

The places of amusement — the cir- cus, the theater, and the amphitheater — and the great baths {thermae) so essen- tial to imperial Rome challenged the engineering ability of the builders. Here huge crowds must be accommodated, sometimes out of doors, sometimes within, with an appearance of luxury and display commensurate with the taste of the day. The Colosseum{ Fig. 1 8 oa) was one of these places of amusement. The vast size of the structure prevented extensive use of stone and led to the use of concrete faced with brick on the in- terior, with hard stone at points of stress, and an exterior of travertine masonry set with no mortar but clamped by iron dowels. The design consists of a system of arches both parallel with and at right angles to the outer circumference. The exterior consists of three stories of arches and a solid attic. Between the arches of each story are engaged columns that support a continuous entablature. The engaged columns add to the rhythm, and the entablature not only unifies the

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

arched openings and binds them into a firmly felt unity but also forms a fine single sweep of curve which, repeated on each story, accents the basic cylin- drical form. The effect of the building without this decoration can be seen on the right side of the illustration, where a bare monotony results from the loss of the rhythm and the accent of the vigor- ous curves. The combination of struc- tural solidity and effective decoration has created a building imposing in dig- nity and magnificence. On the ground story the columns are of the Doric order; on the second, of the Ionic; and on the third, of the Corinthian — an arrangement known as superimposed orders. The fourth story is ornamented by flat Corinthian pilasters. The Colos- seum is a conspicuous example and a possible justification of the Roman prac- tice of using a structural member for a nonstructural and purely esthetic pur- pose. 1 For, constructionally, the col- umns do not carry the load.

The impression of material power, at times grandiose, is felt in high degree in the thermae that provided the Roman not only with his daily bath, hot, warm, or cold, but with his library and loung- ing-place, for the numerous recreation rooms had the same function as the modern athletic club. A ground plan (Fig. 1 79B) gives us some conception of the great extent of these baths and also of the orderly planning that character- izes the organization of multitudinous parts into a single whole. Figure 179A reconstructs one hall of the Baths of Caracalla. The impression is of vast spa- ciousness and, in the rich marble fac- ings, carvings, and coffered ceilings, of magnificence and splendor. Here, as in the Pantheon , the Roman builder con- quered space; that is, he so enclosed a great volume of unbroken space as to

1 A point which leads to infinite debate and no absolute conclusion. “De gustibus non est dis- putandum.”

[a] Baths oj Caracalla. Central Hall, re- stored by Spiers, a.d. 211-217. Rome. {Anderson and Spiers)

[b] Baths of Caracalla. Rome. a.d. 211- 217. The central building is 750 by 380 ft. 1. tepidarium, or warm lounge; 2. cali- darium, or hot room; 3. frigidarium, or cooling room with a swimming pool open to the air; 4. open peristyles; 5. lecture rooms and libraries; 6. promenade; 7. gar- den; 8, stadium; 9. aqueduct and reservoirs.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Colosseum or Flavian Amphitheater. Rome . a.d. 70-82. ( Anderson )

make one standing within it conscious of it. And this he accomplished, as we have described, by the use of the vault and the dome. Impressive today are even the ruins of these huge vaults; in- deed they are probably even more im- pressive than they were when they were decked out with marble and gilded coffers. As in the aqueducts, the sheer engineering, the great simple moving masses and surfaces, are some of the most powerful expressions of the Ro- mans.

Commemorative monuments — al- tars, tombs, rostra, columns, arches — are peculiarly characteristic of the real- istic Roman, who established, in the triumphal arch in particular, a type that has survived for centuries. In the Arch of Titus (Fig. 1 8 1 a) the great central opening is flanked by solid masses of masonry with engaged columns that rise from a plain base to support the entablature, which has a sculptured frieze uniting the three parts. The deco- ration is restrained, and confined chiefly

to the arch. The Arch of Constantine illus- trates the more elaborate triple arch with more sumptuous sculptural deco- rations.

Ornament the Roman used lavishly; frequently, in the attempt to obtain magnificence, he overloaded his build- ings and concealed the structure. The restraint of the Greek in the use of moldings and decoration was too severe to suit the Roman taste, which loved display, and preferred the Corinthian capital to the more austere Doric and Ionic. In his best work, however, the Roman proved himself a master of a certain kind of decoration. This we can see best in a section of the Ara Pads (Fig. 182B). From a central group of acanthus rises a vertical foliate form and curving stems that branch off so as to cover the surface with spiral forms that terminate now in a leaf, now in a flower or rosette; near the top a swan with outspread wings has alighted. While naturalistic representation has formed the basis of the decoration, the

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

181

[a] Arch of Titus. Re- stored on the sides. A bronze four-horse chariot surmounted the arch. Rome. a.d. 81 . ( Alinari )

ultimate effect is dependent partiy upon the delicacy and the precision of the carving and partly upon the carver’s restraint in keeping his design a clear decorative pattern.

The motif of the foliate spiral rising from a bed of acanthus, known as the rinceau (Fig. 182A), became one of the most popular in Roman decorative art, especially as applied to pilasters and borders, and later formed the basis of much Renaissance ornament. With the Flavian emperors, this naturalistic or- nament sacrificed decorative quality to a greater illusion of actual appearance. Details of plant and bird forms were copied from nature, and the cutting of the marble followed the irregularities of nature instead of retaining definite planes of stone; an almost atmospheric

effect was produced, as in the rose col- umns on the Tomb of the Haterii (Lat- eran).

The same tendency is discernible in figure reliefs. In the procession of men, women, and children on the Ara Pads (Fig. 1 83 a) the relief is higher in the foreground figures and lower in the background, giving one a distinct sense of depth and atmosphere. Details are worked out to a greater extent, and there is a considerable amount of por- traiture in the faces; in fact, we feel the individual figures here quite forcibly. The purpose has been to give an illusion rather than an organized expression of a procession, as in the Parthenon Frieze (Fig. 144A). This realistic tendency is carried still further in the reliefs on the inner side of the Arch of Titus , in which

ANCIENT ART

[a] Roman Rinceau. Lateran Museum , Rome.

was stucco applied as a finish to the rough concrete vaults and walls. The surface was divided by moldings into geometric patterns that frequently en- closed figures, or was filled with natural- istic spirals or other motifs and dainty 1 *' figures. The addition of marble dust made the stucco both durable and fine in texture. The moldings and the fig- ures were worked in the wet stucco partly by stamps, noticeably in the moldings, and partly freehand. As in the fresco technique, the rapidity with which plaster dries requires rapid work- manship; and the figures depend for their effect not so much upon careful modeling as upon spontaneity, ease of workmanship, and freely flowing line.

An additional note of magnificence as well as comfort in imperial Rome was supplied by the system of parks and gardens, including perhaps thirty great parks around the city, with lawns, trees, gardens, and fountains, made possible by the unparalleled water supply . Every Roman of sufficient means had a villa set in a park, perhaps on the outskirts of the city or in the Alban or Sabine hills near by.

Domestic architecture figured promi- nently. The palaces and villas of the emperors, now in fragmentary ruins, rivaled the thermae in size and sumptm ousnoss: huge groups of rooms abouf

architectural details contribute a pic- torial quality. And the tendency reaches a climax in the Column of Trajan , in which a detailed pictorial record of mili- tary campaigns spirals around the shaft from the base to the summit.

The ornamentation discussed so far was carved in stone. Another medium used most effectively by the Romans

oj reace) . Erected in b.c. to commemorate, the victories of o ... Spain and Gaul. Detail of dec-

oration. Terme {National) Museum , Rome.

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART 183

[a] Ara Pads , Detail of Procession. Uffizi , Florence.

courts, rooms of state and private apart- ments, gardens and baths. Sometimes, as in the Palace of Domiiian, the units of the establishment were related to a central axis — a plan we have seen used in the thermae and the Forum of Trajan. Sometimes, as in the Villa of Hadrian , the units were irregularly placed be- cause of the character of the topog- raphy. 1

Probably the average person lived, in the crowded city, in an apartment house (insula) , which was several stories

1 The Palace of Domitian on the Palatine in Rome, the Villa of Hadrian near Tivoli, and the Palace of Diocletian at Spalato are examples of Roman imperial palaces. See Anderson and

Spiers, op. cit., Chap. VIII, for descriptions and reconstructions.

high, a habitation to each story, with windows and loggias on the street and on the courtyard, about which several insulae were sometimes grouped. 2 As the Roman lived largely in the open, about the public buildings, in the places of amusement, and in the porticoes and parks, he may have been content with his crowded living-quarters if only they provided him a comer for sleeping and a protection for his lares and penates.

The homes of the well-to-do away from the congested metropolitan areas

2 On the analogy of houses found at Ostia, Rome’s seaport. The Casa di Diana is a typical insula. For a reconstruction see Anderson and Spiers, op. cit., Pl.XC; D. S. Robertson, A Handbook of Greek and Roman Architecture, Mac- millan, 1929, pp. 308-09..

184

ANCIENT ART

[a] Vista of a Pompeian House from the Atrium.

are of the atrium type found at Pompeii and Herculaneum. Many of these, pro- tected by the volcanic ash and lava in which they were buried, are extraor- dinarily well preserved, with their mural decorations still fresh and sometimes with their equipment and household utensils undisturbed. Such a house stood flush with the sidewalk. Through a nar- row entrance, one entered a vestibule (Fig. 185A) that led to a court known as the (1) atrium , roofed over along the four sides so as to leave an opening in the center, with a corresponding sunken place in the floor to collect rain water; along the sides were small rooms, ex- cept at the end, where the atrium ex- tended the full width of the building, forming two wings, (2) alae. Behind the atrium was the (3) tablinum, in which the family archives and statues were kept, and which could be shut off or could afford a passage to the (4) peri- style , a large colonnaded court with fountains and garden, about which

were grouped the private apartments of the family, the atrium serving more as a reception room or a room of state. At the back there was sometimes a (5) garden; the (6) small rooms along the outer sides opening on the street were shops. It is clear that the house faced inward, depending upon its courts for light and air, and when opened its entire length (Fig. 184A) afforded a charming vista of open court with col- ored marbles, gardens, fountains and statues, and brightly painted walls.

This type of house, with its small number of doors and windows, offered considerable stretches of wall space for decoration. The type of decoration com- monly used was a realistic represen- tation of architectural openings and resulted in an originally plain, almost cell-like room not only becoming gaily brilliant in color but appearing to open on vistas of garden, architecture, or land- scape, thus lending an air of spacious- ness to the room (Figs. i88a, 189B).

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

[a] House of Pansa. Pompeii, i. atrium; 2. alae; 3. tablinum; 4. peristyle; 5. gar- den; S. shops.

[b] The Emperor Augustus Addressing His Army. Marble, originally painted. Found in the Villa of Livia, wife of Augustus, at Prima Porta. Vatican, Rome.

In the late Greek period, the generaliza- tion that distinguished the earlier por- traits had given way to some surprisingly individualistic work. The Roman’s de-

SCULPTURE

Statues in great profusion stood in the forums, and in both public and private buildings. Villas and huge baths were perfect museums of Greek sculp- ture, originals, 1 copies, or adaptations to suit Roman taste. Such, however, are not Roman art. Authentic Roman sculp- ture is best represented in the portraits.

1 We read of 285 bronze and 30 marble statues brought from Corinth in 145 b.c.; of 500 bronzes brought from Delphi by Nero — two illustrations only of the ransacking of Greece to deck Rome.

sire for literal facts, together with his custom of keeping in his house, always before his eye, the imagines (wax masks) of his ancestors, influenced the sculptor still further to accentuate this individu- ality. In addition, one must not disre- gard the Etruscan influence. In the head of an Unknown Roman (Fig. i86a), for example, one is struck by the in- tensely alive quality. The bony struc- ture of the head, the keen eye, the sparse hair, the sagging skin beneath the chin, all the lines and wrinkles that designate the peculiar characteristics of an indi- vidual — all these qualities combine to

1 86

ANCIENT ART

[a] Unknown Roman. Terra cotta with traces of color, ist cent. b.c. Museum of Fine Arts , Boston. (. Boston Museum)

give us a realistic portrait of one of those rugged men of dominant will who helped, in the days of the Republic, to lay the foundations of Rome’s greatness.

But when we turn to the statue of Augustus (Fig. 185B), the feeling is dif- ferent. The emperor stands easily. He wears an elaborately decorated metal cuirass with leather fringe over his linen tunic and carries his military cloak thrown over his left arm. In every part of the costume is seen skill in the ren- dering of texture: the soft and heavy quality of the cloths, the rigidity of the metal, and the tough nature of the leather. In his left hand he holds the scepter; his right is lifted in the direction of his glance .as if he were addressing his troops; for Augustus himself had led the army on his conquests. But the face does not characterize Augustus in de-

[b] Portrait of a Child. Marble, ist cent. a.d. Museum of Fine Arts , Boston. (. Boston Museum)

tail, as does the head of the Unknown Roman. There are no individual lines to indicate personal idiosyncrasies. It is rather a generalized type distinctly rem- iniscent of Greek work. If we recall that the Augustan age was a period when the acquisition of Greek statues and the influence of Greek art was at its height, we can easily see why Roman realism had given way.

The sympathetic understanding of youth and childhood is frequently to be seen in Roman sculpture. In many por- traits of children the soft flesh and the rounding features that distinguish the child are well indicated; but even more remarkable is the artist’s ability to un- derstand the workings of the child mind and to depict that characteristic mo- ment of hesitation between laughter and tears that reveals itself so clearly in the

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART 187

[a] Vespasian. Marble a.d. 6g-jg. Terme {National) Mu- seum, Rome

[b] Caracalla. Marble, a.d. 211-217. Museum )

{Berlin

quiver about the mouth. In these por- traits of the youthful aristocrats of Rome we discern the real feeling of the child, now bashful, now eager and alert (Fig, 1 86b).

The generalizing tendency of the Augustan age did not maintain itself long against the Roman love for literal fact. Thus the spirited portrait of Ves- pasian (Fig. 187A) is an individualistic expression of the rugged soldier that we know Vespasian to have been, an ex- pression not so detailed as the Repub- lican portraits, nor so trenchant. The in- cisiveness and the linear quality of the latter have softened to a gradual blend- ing of detail, producing the same at- mospheric quality that is to be found in the Flavian reliefs. When we come to such a portrait as that of Caracalla (Fig. 1 87B) , certain elements have been added to achieve a greater illusion of

life. The large bust that includes shoul- ders and arms, the turn in the head that greatly heightens the vivacity, the rough mass of hair that contrasts with the smoothly finished face, the naturalistic treatment of the eyes, deep-set in the shadow of heavy brows — all these means have combined to create an illu- sion of natural appearance in conjunc- tion with convincing characterization.

PAINTING

Painting functioned chiefly in col- laboration with building — as wall dec- oration. These murals are now to be found, as has already been said, chiefly at Pompeii and Herculaneum. They are executed in fresco. The plaster at Pom- peii was laid very thick, and keeping it moist for a considerable length of time enabled the painter to work leisurely.

1 88

ANCIENT ART

[a] Frescoes from the Villa of Livia. Prima Porta. ( Stoedtner )

The colors were bright — red and black to throw the panels or figures into re- lief, with rich creamy white in the bor- ders. A certain brilliance of surface that enlivened the effect the Roman ob- tained by a careful preparation of the wall surface,* the plaster, which was specially compounded with a mixture of marble dust and laid on layer after layer, was beaten with a smooth trowel until it became very dense, and then was polished until it assumed an almost marblelike finish.

Sometimes the wall space assumed an architectural appearance (Fig. 189B). Columns and windows were painted on the surface in perspective, to give them an appearance of relief. This framework often enclosed a large painting in the center. On the sides, architectural de- tails were so portrayed that they pro- duced an illusion of depth and distant landscape.

In the frescoes of the Villa Item ( Villa of the Mysteries ) near Pompeii (Fig. 189 a)

the feeling of the wall is much more definitely retained and the figures move within a very shallow space, as in a re- lief. The figures are constructed in light against a darker ground, and with an extraordinary grasp of the structure of the figure and of its place within the shallow space in relation to the adjoin- ing figures. Expressive drawing and a slight use of shadow suggest both vol- ume and structure, with much the same result as that accomplished by line alone in Figure 164A. In the Villa of Livia , on the other hand, the surface of the wall has been composed to create the illu- sion of a garden, as if the side of the room opened out upon the garden rep- resented (Fig. i88a). A low fence sepa- rates the spectator from the scene and also gives solidity and unity to the com- position, where trees, plants, and vines in cool green-grays stand out against a blue sky, with bits of bright color in the flowers, fruits, and brightly plumaged birds flying about or enjoying the fresh

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

[a] Frescoes in the Villa Item ( Villa of the Mysteries) near Pompeii. Augustan Age.

[b] Wall Decoration of a Pompeian House . Architectural style , creating an illusion of depth. {Anderson)

water of the fountains. It is a charming bit of nature brought in from the out- of-doors to delight the life lived inside; in Spirit it is closely akin to the natural- istic carvings of which the Roman was so fond.

Besides these mural paintings, inde- pendent or panel painting was prac- ticed for a variety of purposes — votive pictures for temples, portraits for li- braries and for private houses — and great quantities of Greek paintings as well as statues were taken to Rome from Greece. Yet practically nothing remains except the mural paintings, a few in Rome, the great majority in Pompeii and Herculaneum, Probably many of the panel pictures in these murals were copies of famous Greek works. Even when not copying, the painters, many of whom were Greeks, were working in the Hellenic tradition. In the best of these we see, besides their largeness of design and a certain meas- ured reposefulness, a knowledge of per- spective, a consistent use of light and

shade and of the cast shadow, and a unity of the figure with the landscape or architecture — - all fundamental prin- ciples that had been worked out by the Greek.

METALWORK, POTTERY,

GLASS

The skill of the Romans in the use of metal we see not only in the casting of large sculpture but also in such small . bronzes as the candelabra stands, fur- niture supports, and household utensils in great variety that have been found at Pompeii. But the wealth and splendor of life made demands upon the gold- smith and the silversmith as well, to furnish fine plate for luxurious tables. Much of this was looted by thieves at

ANCIENT ART

[a] Silver Crater from the Hildesheim Treasure. Probably Augustan Age. Berlin. ( Giraudon )

[b] Portland Vase. Blue and white glass. H. c. 10 in. ist cent. a.d. British Museum , London. ( Mansell )

the time of the destruction of Pompeii or by the barbarians in later ages, but a few finds of such treasure, hidden away, have come to light to give us a glimpse of the lavishness displayed at the famous Roman feasts . 1 The silver crater from Hildesheim (Fig. 190A) for mixing wine is finely shaped, with han- dles so adjusted that one feels their unity With the structural lines of the vase. Low reliefs, done in repousse, give a play of delicate light and shade over the surface, adding richness without overloading. At the base the relief is higher, more elaborate, and more com- pact, thus strengthening the support. The design here consists of two griffins back to back in balanced position, from which rises a conventional plant form;

1 One of the rich finds of silverware was at Hildesheim, Germany; this is now in the mu- seum at Berlin and is known as the Hildesheim Treasure. Another, the Boscoreale Treasure, most of which is in the Louvre, was discovered at Boscoreale near Pompeii.

from this and from the sweeping wings of the griffins delicate spirals rise and spread over the surface, terminating in naturalistic forms. Clinging to the stems and tendrils are tiny children attacking with tridents the sea animals that twine among the spirals. In a two-handled silver cup from Boscoreale we see the Roman love of realism; for here sprays of fruiting olive have been wreathed about the cup, a charming idea and one conveying an illusion of natural appearance, since the fruit is molded in the round. This ornamentation, how- ever, not only obscures the structural lines of the cup but by attracting in- terest to itself destroys the harmony that results when decoration is kept subor- dinate.

In surviving Roman pottery the most conspicuous accomplishment is the Ar- retine bowl, made of a fine reddish clay, with the decoration stamped in relief on the outside by means of molds in which the design was cut in intaglio.

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ART

Then a reddish glaze was added. A sacrificial scene is represented in Figure 1 91 a; winged figures are decorating an altar to which women clad in diaph- anous drapery are bringing offerings. These figures remind one of the stucco reliefs in their dainty charm and, being in very low relief, are unobtrusively decorative.

' The Roman lapidaries of the Augus- tan age were skilled in cameo-cutting, which consists of carving a design in re- lief from a striated stone, such as sar- donyx, in such a way that each layer — the layers usually are alternately light and dark, and number from two to nine — will be utilized in working out the design.

The cameo technique was carried by the Roman into the craft of the glass- worker, as we see in the Portland Vase (Fig. 190B). Up to the second or first century b.c. glass had been molded, a laborious process. About that time the blowpipe was invented, causing a rapid growth of the glass industry, and glass supplanted, to a large extent, the more usual pottery for everyday use. In mak- ing such a vase as the Portland , the glass- worker shaped the deep-blue vase with his blowpipe and then dipped it into opaque white liquid glass. The handles were molded separately and added. When thoroughly hard, the white layer was cut away, leaving the raised white figures in relief against the deep-blue ground. The subject is not understood. At the left a young woman is reclining on some rocks beneath a fig tree, in the usual attitude of sleep; at the right an- other young woman is seated on a pile of rocks, holding a scepter. The figures are carved with characteristic natural- ism. The mask beneath the handle is more decorative.

A very effective use of glass we find in the Millefiori or “thousand-flower” bowls, which when held up to the light give an impression of rich mosaic and

[a] Arretine Bowl. Red clay. 40 b.c.- a.d. 60. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. {Metropolitan Museum)

hence are sometimes called mosaic glass. The process was as follows: Threads of different-colored glass were fused to- gether into a larger thread, drawn out, and then cut into small pieces that were fitted into a mold and fused into a solid mass. By carefully regulating his color and pattern, the glassworker could cre- ate a color harmony of surpassing rich- ness.

SUMMARY

The tonic effect of the vital Etruscan art persisted in Rome notwithstanding its Hellenization. The bold vigor of Etruscan stone construction on the arch principle in the hands of Roman en- gineers in urban, cosmopolitan Rome, and under the stimulation of an impe- rial ideal, produced structures of large conception and daring engineering — bridges, temples, palaces, theaters, baths, basilicas, triumphal arches. En- gineering in fact was only another mani- festation of that Roman impulse toward order which found expression also in law and governmental organization, By means of vaulting the Romans solved the problem of enclosing great space without intermediate support, though they usually concealed the construction with lavish ornament to suit the taste

ANCIENT ART

192

of the day. Thus the great baths are characteristically Roman in their com- bination of mechanical and esthetic en- gineering with glittering sumptuousness.

Again it may have been the Etruscan inheritance, combined with the Roman passion for literal fact rather than for abstractions, that led to a realistic por- traiture of great vitality. In the wall paintings, too, the practical Roman sought his objective directly: if the room is small and stuffy, enliven it and open it to the outside in imagination if not in actuality! If these wall paintings are debatable as mural decoration, they at least have a clear raison d’etre.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Alexander, Christine, Jewelry, the Art of the Goldsmith in Classical Times, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1928

Anderson, William J., and Spiers, R. P., The Architecture of Ancient Rome, rev. by Thomas Ashby, Vol. II of The Architecture of Greece and Rome, 2 vols., Scribner, 1927

Bailey, Cyril, ed., The Legacy of Rome, Oxford University Press, 1923

Breasted, James H., Ancient Times, 2d ed. rev., Ginn, 1935

Chase, George H., Greek and Roman Sculpture in American Collections, Harvard University Press, 1924

Goldscheider, Ludwig, Etruscan Sculpture, Ox- ford University Press (Phaidon Edition), 1941

Roman Portraits, Oxford University

Press (Phaidon Edition), 1940

Grenier, Albert, The Roman Spirit in Religion, Thought, and Art, tr. by M. R. Dobie, Knopf, 1926

Gusman, Pierre, L’art decoratif de Rome, 3 vols., Paris, 1908-14

Hanfmann, George M. A., The Etruscans and Their Art (Reprint of the Bulletin of the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, July, 1940), Rhode Island Museum Press, Providence, 1940

Lamb, Winifred, Greek and Roman Bronzes, Dial Press, 1929

Lanciani, Rodolfo Amadeo, Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries, Houghton Mifflin, 1888

Laurie, Arthur P., Greek and Roman Methods of Painting, Putnam, 1910

Lukomskii, Georgii Kreskentevich, Dart etrusque, Paris, 1930

McClees, Helen, The Daily Life of the Greeks and Romans, 6th ed., Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1941 Mau, August, Pompeii: Its Life and Art, tr. by F. W. Kelsey, new ed. rev., Macmillan, 1902

Platner, Samuel B., A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome, completed and rev. by Thomas Ashby, Oxford University Press, 1929

Poulsen, Fredrik, Etruscan Tomb Paintings: Their Subjects and Significance, tr. by Ingeborg Andersen, Oxford University Press, 1922 Richter, Gisela M. A., Handbook of the Classical Collection, 6th ed.. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1930 Rivoira, Giovanni Teresio, Roman Architecture, Oxford University Press, 1925 Robertson, Donald S'., A Handbook of Greek and Roman Architecture, Macmillan, 1929 Rodenwaldt, Gerhart, Die Kunst der Antike, Berlin, 1927

Showerman, Grant, Eternal Rome, new ed., Yale University Press, 1925

Rome and the Romans, Macmillan,

• 93 *

Strong, Eug&tie Sellers, Art in Ancient Rome, 2 vols., Scribner, 1928

Roman Sculpture from Augustus to

Constantine, Scribner, 1907 Swindler, Mary H., Ancient Painting, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1929

Weege, Fritz, Etruskische Malerei, Halle, 1921 Wickhoff, Franz, Roman Art, tr. by Mrs. S. A. Strong, Macmillan, 1900 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST

(ABOUT 33OO B.C.-A.D. 600)

ONTEMPORARY with the great cultures of the Near East and the Mediterranean (the Egyptian, the Sumerian- Assyrian- Chaldean- Persian, and the Classical), and actually in direct contact with them at certain points, were the equally great cultures of the Far East and of the Americas (see Fig. 195A). First we shall look at those of the Far East: the Hindu, the Chinese, and the Japanese.

India comprises the substance of a continent within itself. It is surrounded by water except on the northern bound- aries, the only gateway for invaders until recent times. The country divides geographically into three units: first, the wall of the Himalayas, a barrier and also a source of vital river systems, and the traditional home of the gods; sec- ond, the northern river valleys, gen- erally known as Hindustan, including the basins of the Ganges and the Indus, very fertile, densely populated, the home of the Aryan invaders and the seat of the strongest political powers; third, peninsular India, comprising the Deccan and the Tamil states, tropical tablelands south of the northern river basins and naturally separated from

them by mountains and forests, the home of the Dravidian races (Fig. 193A), Among these divisions are great ex- tremes of climate and of geography, from tropical heat to perpetual snow and glaciers; from desert conditions to the heaviest rainfall in the world. The

ANCIENT ART

i94

northern river basins have a wonder- fully productive soil and the mountain- ous regions are rich in stone, woods, ivory, gold, and precious stones. Eco- nomically, greatest poverty stands op- posed to greatest wealth — wealth still kept in the form of the family treasure, gold and jewels.

Likewise, among the people, num- bering over three hundred million, there is great diversity of race, language, and custom. Politically, India has always been divided into many minor princi- palities and only rarely in its long his- tory has any considerable area been unified for more than a brief time.

Unity is not lacking, however; that is, a deeper and more fundamental unity than that manifested in political co-operation and in uniformity of dia- lect and custom. This is evident in the religious and cultural life of India — in the Brahman faith, the national sacred literature, the caste system, and the Hindu attitude toward fundamental spiritual truths. For perhaps no other people have felt so profoundly and pon- dered so deeply over the fundamental problems of life; and with no other people have spirituality and spiritual significance taken greater precedence.

India shared the common heritage of Eurasia — • a Neolithic culture which gradually evolved into an age of metal. In the fourth or third millennium b.c. a distinctive civilization, recently dis- covered at Mohenjo-daro, Harappa, and other sites, existed in the Indus valley . 1 This has been known as “Indo- Sumerian” or more recently as “Indus.” Mohenjo-daro appears to have been a wealthy city, the center of an agricul- tural and commercial people with a

1 For an account of these discoveries, see Sir John G. Cumming, Revealing India’s Past , India Society, London, 1939. They have been too recent and too incomplete to admit of more than tentative conclusions as to the origin and the nature of the culture and its relation to others in the peninsula.

high level of craftsmanship and design. To judge from the similarity of their stone and clay figures of men and animals, and of their animal-figured seals, to those produced in Sumeria, their city seems to have maintained com- mercial relations with the Near East.

In the meantime the Dravidians, a dark-skinned people who may have de- scended from the Neolithic peoples, spread over the peninsula. They seem already to have reached a highly devel- oped state when nomad Aryans began to penetrate the valley of the Ganges. Driving the Dravidians to the highlands south of the Ganges, the Aryans settled down as an agricultural people. They lived in villages, possessed domesticated horses, rode in chariots, and knew the use of metal. They were organized into a tribal state, with the family as a unit. They worshiped and gradually personi- fied the powers of nature. The sky be- came Varuna, god of right and justice; the rain, Indra, in addition assumed the role of war god. This we see in the most ancient Hindu hymns, con- tained in the Vedas, which are lyrical expressions of nature worship. The rit- ual connected with this worship was first performed by the father as head of the family; but soon it became the prerogative of the priests, called the Brahmans, who crystallized it into a system with elaborate rites and sacri- fices and infused into it philosophical speculations about the meaning of exist- ence and the nature of the world soul. “The ‘troubled intensity’ of man’s search after the soul and its moral earnestness ” 2 constitutes the theme of the treatises known as the Upanishads, which are considered, even today, the Bible of the Hindu.

2 Lin Yutang, The Wisdom of China and India, Random House, 1942, p. 33. This volume gives translations of much from the Vedas and the Upanishads. See also Sir Monier Monier- Williams, Indian Wisdom , 4th ed., London, 1893.

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195

[a] The Ancient Cultures.

While religious conceptions were crys- tallizing into a theological system, social and economic conditions were evolving into a social order, the caste system, which divides the .Hindu people into four main classes: (1) the priests, who conduct the ritual and preserve the sacred texts; (2) the warriors, who are rulers and public administrators; (3) the agriculturalists, who till the soil and produce the wealth; and (4) the sudras, the laborers. The first three comprise the Aryans, the fourth probably origi- nated in conquered peoples. These main

divisions have become subdivided into more than twenty-five hundred groups. A Hindu belongs to a caste by birth, and to change from it is practically impossible, though he is permitted in- dividual freedom within its limits. Ac- cording to him, this system, which seems to have evolved naturally in an- cient times, is a part of the order of nature.

The world soul concept of the Upani- shads, the universal spiritual principle — the impersonal absolute from which all individual souls emanate and to

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which, theoretically, they return — pos- tulates a concept of an endless succession of lives (known as the transmigration of souls) in which the acts of each life de- termine the status of the next — higher for the good or lower for the wicked. Few attain the goal: absorption into Nirvana. Though the Hindu believes that everyone, each according to his ability, might catch some gleam of this ultimate, yet for most men both the lofty conceptions of the Upanishads and the mystic insight required for their realization were too difficult. Hence we see the love and worship of the old gods bringing about a compromise with the metaphysical speculations of the Brah- mans in the form of the Trimurti, a triple aspect of the one supreme reality: Brahma, the creative aspect, cognition, wisdom; Vishnu, the sustaining aspect, love, emotion; Shiva, the destructive aspect, will, power. Of the three, Vishnu and Shiva were the more popular, and their worship developed into powerful cults.

As religious ideas were evolving, the great epics were also taking shape. The Ramayana tells of the deeds of the prince Rama during his exile, brought about by court intrigue, and the recovery of his lost bride Sita. The Mahabharata, like the Iliad, deals with a war between two clans, here the Kurus and the Bharatas. But inserted, frequently at a later date than the first collecting of the legends, are such religious treatises as the Bhagavad-gita, the Lord's Song , which is probably the highest expression of Hindu faith. 1

1 For translations of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, see Frederika Macdonald, Iliad of the East , Lane, 1908; Sister Nivedita (M. E. Noble) and A. K. Coomaraswamy, Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists, Holt, 1914; and Lin Yutang, The Wisdom of China and India. For the Bhagavad-gita, see the translations by A, W. Rider, University of Chicago Press, 1929; L. D. Barnett, Macmillan, 1905; and Lin Yutang, op. cit.

The concept of one universal reality permeating the cosmos the writer of the Bhagavad-gita expresses when he says:

“There is naught higher than I, O W ealth- W inner ; all this universe is strung upon Me, as rows of gems upon a thread.

“I am the taste in water, O son of Kunti; I am the light in moon and sun, the Om in all the Vedas, sound in the ether, manhood in men.

“The pure scent in earth am I, and the light in fire; the life in all born beings am I, and the mortification of them that mortify the flesh.

“Know Me to be the ancient Seed of all born beings, O son of Pritha; I am the understanding of them that un- derstand, the splendor of the splen- did.”*

The young Prince Siddhartha (died about 543 b.c.), brought up in this tra- ditional Brahman faith, looking about him, became impressed with the suffer- ing that he saw everywhere. To attain Nirvana one must pass through an al- most endless succession of reincarna- tions, each with its own suffering. So he applied himself to the problem of seek- ing relief from this distress. Leaving his family and his luxurious surroundings, he gave himself up to the life of an as- cetic and through meditation obtained the knowledge that enabled him to bring a means of salvation to his people. Hence he became a Buddha, that is, an enlightened one. His solution was to recognize that the individual was an illusion only and that suffering was due to self-interest — to the assertion of the interests of the individual rather than the submersion of the individual in the larger universal life that embraces all nature in its fellowship and is the only reality. The means of escape from the

2 Bhagavad-gita, tr. by L. D. Barnett, p. 119, by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company.

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIG, AND BUDDHIST

fetters of the individual into this su- preme universal life lay not in the elaborate sacrifices prescribed by the Brahman priests, but partly in medita- tion, in order to bring the soul through retirement and concentration into union with the divine, and partly through moral actions done in a spirit of com- plete selflessness. This was the path that led to the conquest of self, to peace of mind, to wisdom, and to release from bondage.

For forty-five years Gautama (Sid- dhartha’s name as a Buddha) taught the Eightfold Path, the Wheel of the Law, as he wandered, a mendicant, through the Ganges Valley winning dis- ciples and building up a society of the faith which was not only to dominate India for centuries but to reach out into large areas of eastern Asia as a power- fully energizing influence.

In a culture based upon these con- cepts of religion, sociology, and eco- nomics, how does the artist function? What are his aims? Hindu art, whether Brahmanical or Buddhist — and one must remember that Buddhism re- tained many of the fundamental tenets of Brahmanism — is primarily a re- ligious art. Even secular objects are imbued with religious significance. As the Hindu always tended to be specu- lative, the artist was motivated by the need to objectify the ultimate reality that lay behind visible appearance. His was “the sacred task of rendering ex- plicit the implications of the Cosmic life ” 1 -—- which closely approximates the early-Christian ideal, “to render visible the mysteries of the supra-natural world. 2 ”

The Hindu artist considered himself

1 Mulk Raj Anand, The Hindu View of Art , London, 1933, p. 1 72. For the close relationship of Hindu and early Christian ideals, see A. K. Coomaraswamy, The Transformation of Nature in Art, Harvard University Press, 1934.

2 See note 1, p. 250.

a pious craftsman, a servant in the tem- ple or the palace, and, as a descendant of Visvakarma, lord of the arts, the heir of an ideal above the idiosyncrasies of individual expression. He must have the capacity to learn his craft. “One who knows amiss his craft, after his death will fall into hell and suffer. . . . Vision without technique is as unfortunate as skill without vision .” 3 To attain vision, the artist practiced yoga — that is, through meditation he attuned his mind to and identified himself with that which he was to objectify . 4 He visualized the concept in every detail before the work of his hands began. His visualization, however, was not dictated by his individual preferences, but in terms of a canon which stipulated pro- portion, pose of body, and gestures of limbs and hands, and which constituted for the artist a kind of language, as words do for the writer, or mathematical formulas for the engineer. The positions of the hands known as mudras (lives of the hands) are vibrant symbols of char- acteristic activities — teaching, medi- tating, not-fearing — and epitomize the essential significance of the painting, statue, or dance. No image can be beautiful, according to Hindu theory, which is not created according to the- canon. Thus the artist’s visualization de- rived from what the canon prescribed, not from what his eye saw. Whether carving or drawing a figure, he never worked from a living model. His work is based on conception, not perception; and it reflects an attitude toward nature and a habit of mind that are in strong contrast to the freer, more individual- istic viewpoint of the Occident, yet which have nevertheless produced some of the most profound art of the world.

3 Mulk Raj Anand, op. cit., p. 177.

+ Dr. Coomaraswamy refers to a similar point of view in Dante: “Who paints a figure, if he cannot be it, cannot paint it.” The Chinese and Japanese also possess this habit of mind.

ANCIENT ART

[a] Sanchi Stupa. Restored. D. 121 ft. 3d cent. b.c. (Archaeological Survey of India)

During the evolution of this civiliza- tion foreign influences from the West penetrated India several times; for the Greeks under Alexander had reached northwestern India and later came in- vasions of the Sassanian Persians. Evi- dences of these influences are somewhat apparent in Indian art. But in a.d. 320 a native dynasty was restored and this, the Gupta period, forms the Golden Age of Hindu culture (about a.d. 300- 600.) A Chinese pilgrim (Fa-heen or Fa-hsien) in writing of his travels in India in the fifth century describes the rich and prosperous condition of the country. He tells of charitable institu- tions and hospitals, institutions of learn- ing, great monasteries, rich palaces with carved and painted ornamentation; of a mild, adequate government, and re- ligious toleration. Fine buildings were erected, only to be destroyed later by the Muhammadans. Sculpture and painting reached a climax of attain- ment, as did music, science, and San- skrit literature. For this was the period of the most famous poets, of whom Kalidasa was the greatest. Europe was being plunged into chaos by the fall of the Roman Empire and the inroads of the barbarians; and although the By- zantine Empire was flourishing under

Justinian at Constantinople and the Sassanian power was at a climax under Chosroes I and Chosroes II at Ctesi- phon, at this time India in the sum total of its broad culture was probably the most enlightened nation in the world. 1

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE Of the early cities of India of which we read in Hindu literature nothing is left. The earliest type of structure that has survived is the Buddhist stupa, a mound of solid brick or stone to mark some sacred place or to hold some relic. Most representative is the great Sanchi Stupa (Fig. 198A). It is hemispherical, with a flattened top, and rests upon a high circular terrace; a massive balus- trade surrounds the mounds, the usual method in India of protecting a sacred 1 The broad divisions of Hindu history are: 3300-2000 b.c. Indus Age

2000-700 b.c. Vedic Age

500 b.c.-a.d. 300 Age of Buddhism

a.d. 300-600 Gupta dynasty, Hinduism;

Buddhism absorbed by renascent Brahmanism A.D. 600-800 Classic Age; Rajputs

a.d. 800-1818 Medieval Age; Muham-

madan invasion; Mughal Empire

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIG, AND BUDDHIST

199

[a] Gate at Sanchi. Upper part. {India Office)

place; at the four cardinal points are ornamental gateways, lavishly carved (Fig. 1 99A) . Originally a balustrade sur- rounded the terrace, and served to guide the pilgrims in their procession, or circumambulation, about the shrine, an early practice common in Hindu re- ligious ceremony. A double stairway with balustrades afforded an entrance

to the terrace. On the flattened top of the mound was another balustrade sur- rounding the reliquary, which was sur- mounted by an umbrella, the symbol of royalty. Both the balustrades and the gateways appear from the construction to be stone copies of wooden rail fences and gates. They are, in fact, the work of the carpenter executed in stone. This

200

ANCIENT ART

[a] Dryad. Pier of Sanchi Gate (Fig. iggX) . {India Office)

gives us a clue to why earlier examples of architecture have not survived: they were of wooden construction and could not withstand the destructive climate of India. The richly carved gates are strong accents against the unbroken sur- face of the stupa, and illustrate the exuberance and never-ending rhythmic movement found in Hindu ornament. Piers, crossbars, and brackets are filled to overflowing with carvings which in content combine Buddhist symbols, such as the stupa, the sacred tree, or the wheel, with narrations of the former in- carnations of Gautama Buddha when he was a bird or an elephant . 1 For in early Buddhism the Buddha was repre-

1 These stories, a constantly recurring theme in Buddhist art, are known as the Jataka tales. For these tales see the edition by H. T. Francis and E. J. Thomas, Cambridge University Press, 1916; and E. W. Burlingame, tr., Buddhist Parables, Yale University Press, 1922.

sented only by symbol or by reference to these earlier lives. In the upper bar of the gate illustrated, for example, people are worshiping stupas and sacred trees. Whatever is represented in the Sanchi reliefs — man, animal, or plant — tends to be of the same height, ex- pressive of the unity and the equality of all animate life; and all are sur- charged with vitality. The figures are placed one above another to fill the space, and are carved in high enough relief to enable their simplified planes to be seen clearly against the dark ground. As decoration, the carving fills every inch of the surface with ceaseless movement brought to a halt by firm edges and spiraling terminals. One lower bracket is filled with a Dryad (Fig. 2 ooa) clinging to a tree, and their association is expressed by their formal relationship. For the figure and the tree interpenetrate inseparably by a flow of movement. The limbs of the figure and the branches of the tree are sinuous interweaving cylinders; the masses of the body rise and fall in the full breasts, the slim waist, and the bulbous hips. The tree is highly conventional, and the figure follows the canon in its propor- tions: broad shoulders, narrow waist, large breasts and hips. The carving on the Sanchi Gates is not primitive but, like the architecture, seems to be a transla- tion into stone of an earlier, fully de- veloped art of perishable material, per- haps wood, and an expression of the Vedic animistic faith — an art which the Buddhists took over as part of their tradition but molded to new purposes.

Another important type of Buddhist building was the assembly hall for con- gregational worship . 2 Probably many of these halls were of wooden construc- tion; those that are now extant are rock-cut — hollowed out from the side

2 Sometimes called a chaitya hall; that is, a temple or hall containing a chaitya (a monu- ment).

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST 201

[a] Buddhist Assembly Hall. Karle. c. 1st cent. b.c. (India Office)

of a cliff. Rock-cut churches, monas- teries, and temples were popular in In- dia, as they afforded excellent shelter both from the heavy rain and from the glaring heat. Though chiseled from the solid rock, they imitated the form of the wood or masonry structures. Such a hall we find in Karle (Fig. 201 a). The hall consists of a nave with a semicir- cular end, and aisles from which the nave is separated by a row of columns. At the circular end within ; the nave stands the shrine in the form of a stupa, which was the symbol of the faith in the early days of Buddhism before statues of Buddha were made. The roof is in the form of a great barrel vault with ribs which reproduce the bamboo con- struction of its prototype. Originally there were fresco mural decorations, and painted banners hung from the roof. One large leaf-shaped window was placed above the entrance in such away that the light fell directly upon the stupa and brought out the rich colors of the

decorations before it was lost in the dim shadows of the high vaulting.

It was not until several hundred years after the death of Gautama that statues of the Buddha began to supplant the symbolic stupa . 1 Frequently he is repre- sented in meditation - — a yoga practice — as one sees in the Great Buddha of Anuradhapura (Fig. 2 02 a). The Buddha is seated with legs crossed, one hand

1 Owing partly to the influence of Greece that had penetrated to northwestern India through the conquests of Alexander the Great and had strongly influenced the sculptors of Gandhara, who combined tire Indian concep- tion with the Greek method of expression. The result is interesting historically, for it penetrated to China also. But it is curiously exotic, and typical neither of Greece nor of India. In the sculpture of India, China, and Japan, the at- tributes of Buddha are the protuberance of wisdom on the top of the head; the split and elongated ear lobes (symbolizing the renuncia- tion of riches, in the form of jewelry so heavy that it lengthened the lobes); and the mark on the forehead, often a jewel, that symbolizes the third eye of spiritual vision.

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ANCIENT ART

[a] The Great Buddha of Anuradhapura , Ceylon. Of domolite. Colossal size. 5th or 6th cent. a.d.

resting on the other in his lap in the mudra of meditation; the back is erect, but the eyelids are lowered as if to turn the mind and the sense organs inward. A thin drapery falls from the left shoulder, indicated by a diagonal line across the breast. The figure rises from its broad base to a height equal to that of the base (a proportion of quietude) and is carved with geometric simplicity — simple, massive, rounding forms that flow into each other, producing a monu- mental effect. For the aim of the sculp- tor was not to tell what the Buddha looked like physically, but to make the observer realize the spiritual realm which he attained — inner serenity. “As a lamp in a windless spot flickers not, such is the likeness that is told of the strict-minded man . . . when the mind, held in check, comes to stillness . . . and when he knows the boundless happiness that lies beyond sense- instruments and

is grasped by understanding, and in steadfastness swerves not from Verity, than which, once gotten, he deems no other boon better .” 1 This stillness is not the negation of power, but denotes the acquisition of the greatest spiritual values; and the “moral grandeur” of the concept equals the esthetic grandeur of the form.

Thus Buddhist art in its early stages, as illustrated by the Sanchi Stupa, was “popular, sensuous, and animistic In- dian art adapted to the purposes of the illustration of Buddhist anecdote and the decoration of Buddhist monu- ments .” 2 Later it produced the Bud- dhas of southern India and Ceylon— - the Buddha of Anuradhapura (Fig. 202A) for example — which constitute a truly Buddhist art of great vitality and mon- umentality, significant in content for its expression of spiritual values, and in style for its austere massiveness and con- ventional treatment of details.

As we enter the Gupta age, however, when Buddhism was waning under the impact of a renascent Brahmanism, the trend was toward ease, grace, and hu- manism. A popular subject was the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara ? A bronze statuette of this divinity represents the Bodhisattva seated in an easy pose, the weight borne by the left arm, and the right hand, supported by the raised leg, held in the traditional mudra of teach- ing. The shoulders are broad and strong, the waist narrow, the limbs rounded,

1 Bhagavad-gita, tr. by Barnett, p. 114, by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company.

2 A. K. Coomaraswamy, The Dance of Siva, Sunwise Turn, 1924, p. 54.

3 A Bodhisattva is a being who is destined at some time to become a Budclha; even at present he is an active force for salvation and his wor- ship is the center of a cult. Avalokiteshvara, “the lord who looketh down in great compas- sion,” is one of the most important Bodhisattvas not only in India but, under a different form, in China and Japan also.

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST

[a] Buddha Expounding the Law to His Mother , Maya. Borobudur. c. gth cent. a.d.

and the skin smooth; on the head is the protuberance of wisdom, here covered by a crown, and the ears are elon- gated— all traditional characteristics and conventions. Through the figure flows a suave rhythm which emphasizes serene youthfulness and tender compas- sion. Its material, bronze, is highly suit- able for both the character and the small size of the figure.

Buddhism was a strongly missionary religion. An important point to Which it penetrated was Java, where the Bud- dhist priests erected the great Stupa of Borobudur (Fig. 204A). This shrine was an elaborated stupa. About it wound five procession paths, along which were sculptured, in relief in the coarse na- tive stone of which the stupa was built, stories of the Buddhist faith, for the in- struction and stimulation of pilgrims. In Figure 203A the Buddha, seated in a temple, with hand uplifted in the mudra of teaching, is expounding the law to bis mother, Maya, and her attendants.

The conventional trees, which fill the space above the seated figures, and the elaborate costumes contribute to the richly decorative character of the relief.

PAINTING

The early painting of India, of which we read in the ancient literature, is lost. The earliest extant work reveals a highly developed art serving the same function as sculpture — a didactic and decora- tive purpose in religious places. Note- worthy among early works are the paintings in the Ajanta Caves. These cave temples formed a Buddhist monastic retreat in an isolated ravine in central India. Here the artists covered walls and ceilings with paintings usually re- ferred to as frescoes but which are closer to a tempera technique. The pigments are mineral, not the earth colors char- acteristic of fresco. The walls were first coated with rough plaster (often mixed with some binding material, such as

2°4

ANCIENT ART

[a] Stupa of Bor obudur. Java . c. gth cent. a.d.

rice husks) and then covered with a coat of smooth white plaster, on which the figures were drawn in red and cov- vered with a transparent underpainting, usually green. The local colors were then added, and finally the contours were repainted in brown or black. In the earlier examples — the Ajanta Fres- coes cover several centuries — the fig- ures are large and imposing, as in the scenes which tell of the life of the Bud- dha when he was a great white elephant in the Himalayas; or in the Adoration, in which a woman and child, perhaps the wife and child of Gautama, stand in fervid devotion before the majestic figure of the Buddha with his begging bowl, clad in a yellow robe, his feet on a lotus — all against a deep-blue ground. In the later paintings, in Cave i, a vast drama is spread on the walls with all the exuberance and overflowing quality of the Sanchi Gates. Scene crowds upon scene in a panorama of aristocratic life used in the service of religious themes. The figures are smaller than in the earlier paintings, are more consciously grouped, and are more closely related to an architectural setting. In Figure 205A, for example, a Rajah, a former in- carnation of the Buddha, is represented with his hands in the mudra of exposi-

tion, explaining the doctrines to his wife and a group of court attendants. Perhaps the first impression is that of a scene lived intensely. How has the painter been able to produce this effect? Very little by facial expression, but largely by the highly expressive pose of body and gesture of hands, and by the dynamic use of line, light, and color. The drawing is according to the canon (compare the Dryad, Fig. 200 a) . The line itself is full of vitality. At times it models the figure as in sculptural drawing; or it may combine with a slight shadow to give an effect of roundness and so- lidity. This shadow is not the result of natural or artificial illumination, but is an abstract means of expressing round- ness by using a high light on the parts nearest the observer. Notwithstanding, the strong contours, combined with the sharply linear quality in the details, tend to flatten the scene as a whole. To this effect the broad bands of the saris contribute, with their slow wavelike movement above the dark almost unbroken base. Despite this flat decora- tive quality, there is a sinuous move- ment back and forth in the shallow depth between the foreground and the angular framework of the pavilion.

A superb example of Buddhist paint-

HINDU ART: INDUS, VEDIC, AND BUDDHIST 205

[a] Rajah in the Mudra of Exposition. Ajanta. 5 th-6th cent. a.d. ( Art Institute of Chicago)

ing is the great figure of a Bodhisativa same means that are employed in the

(or so it is thought to be), which stands Rajah group.

out with particular force against a wa- These paintings at Ajanta are more vering background of smaller figures and than accomplished drawings and paint-

contrasting color. The saint is richly ings per se. To the Hindu they are

garbed and adorned with a rope of above all a vehicle for the expression of

I pearls and other jewels, and he wears a an inner life. They are saturated with

high headdress ornamented with sap- an intense vitality which reflects an phires; in his right hand he holds a blue equally intense feeling on the part of lotus. The pose, it has been suggested, the painter. “The theme is all in all.”

may derive from a dancing pose. For This inner significance of the subject so

dancing was an important element in motivates the artist and permeates his I Hindu ritual. Whatever the interpreta- being that, using the language of the

I tion, the figure is filled with a feeling of canon merely as a means to an end, he

intense compassion, expressed by the never loses sight of the end.

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ANCIENT ART

SUMMARY

The art of India was primarily reli- gious and symbolic. The earliest surviv- ing buildings are the Buddhist stupas, with elaborately carved gates' the cave assembly halls, in which a stupa symbolized the Buddha; and the monas- tic caves, which contained both carvings and paintings, Sculpture and painting functioned both decoratively and didac- tically: to ornament entrances, to dec- orate walls, and at the same time to narrate incidents in the life of the Bud- dha and his worshipers.

In form the art of India was strictly obedient to accepted canons of tech-

9

CHINESE ART

Chinese art

(ABOUT 3OOO B.C.- )

IN studying Chinese art we are dealing with a people whose native conservatism has preserved their fundamental traditions for more than four thousand years — a unique instance in the history of civilizations. To be sure, foreign influences have entered China and become powerful, but eventually they have been absorbed or assimilated by truly Chinese thought and action.

China is vast both in population and in geographical extent, a land of more than four hundred million people, with an area, including Tibet, Chinese Tur- kestan (Sinlciang), Mongolia, and Man- churia, of more than twice the size of the United States, though China proper includes a little less than half this area (Fig. 207A) . The fertile eastern plains are traversed by two great river systems

nique and representation. The artist was a pious craftsman highly trained in these canons and motivated by a need for expressing, within or by means of the canons, inner significance. Thus he was not concerned with visible appear- ances; nor was he an individual free to follow his own idiosyncrasies, but an instrument of something behind and greater than the individual — the con- sciousness of his race. Thus in both painting and sculpture the figure was not an imitation of natural appearance, but an expression, in terms of an under- stood language of form, of spiritual values.

See the Bibliography on page 377.

-A.D. 907)

that have their rise in the mountains of the west. The Hwang Ho, or Yellow River, with swift current brings down great quantities of silt that is still build- ing up the alluvial plains — now pro- viding rich agricultural lands, now de- stroying farms and people with its floods and erratic changes of course. The Yangtze Kiang, or Blue River, through its navigability serves as a great artery of commerce. As one would expect in so large a country, there is great variety of climate, vegetation, language, and custom. North China, centering about Peiping, has a cool, dry climate and many stretches of plain; South China, centering about Canton, is moist and tropical, with mountains near by to afford a summer refuge from the ener- vating heat. To west and north are vast

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207

areas of desert plateau. Agriculture forms the economic basis of life; even in the mountainous regions small patches of tillable land are intensively culti- vated. The natural resources are great — mines of gold and other metals, quar- ries, “jade mountains . 55 Formerly there were great forests, now destroyed.

' The earliest beginnings of Chinese culture appeared in Paleolithic times with the Peking man, who lived in the valley of the Yellow River somewhat

earlier than Neandertal man lived in Europe, and who had weapons similar to those found in Paleolithic Europe. Then followed a great gap in time — probably it will be filled by further ex- cavations — - until a Neolithic culture appeared in the same valley, an agri- cultural people who cultivated rice and made textiles and a fine painted pot- tery. The earliest historical culture was the Shang, centered in the Honan province and comprising perhaps one-

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ANCIENT ART

fifth of present China. 1 The people, when not at war, were primarily agricultural, and for this reason interested in the powers of nature — sky, stars, wind, and rain. About these powers their religion centered. The dragon — in varying forms one of the most important motifs in Chinese art, and the emblem of the emperor — possibly had its origin in the great alligators that infested the rivers and early became objects of wor- ship, symbolizing the coming of spring and rain. Likewise the phoenix, because of its fabulous renewal of life from its own ashes, symbolized the sun and the warmth that brings about the ever re- current life in nature.

Two other fundamentals of this early civilization have persisted as basic ele- ments of Chinese culture. First, the so- cial basis, the unit of which was the family and not the individual. The cus- toms of one’s ancestors constituted the established law, and the perpetuation of the family was the vital necessity. To these the rights and freedom of the in- dividual were sacrificed. He was but one link in the social chain, and the chain unbroken was paramount. Such an attitude fostered the second funda- mental, which was a pious reverence for the dead, a continual looking to the past rather than to the future, and an

1 Chinese civilization may be traced back to about 3000 b.c. The important periods are:

Shang dynasty Chou dynasty Ts'in dynasty Han dynasty Wei and the Six dy- nasties T'ang dynasty Sung dynasty Yuan or Mongol dynasty Ming dynasty Ts'ing or Manchu dynasty

1766-1122 1 1122-255 255-206

206 B.C.-A.D. 221 A.D. 22I-6l8

618-907 960-1280 1280-1368 I368-X644 1644-I9II

The spelling and the dates used in this chapter are those of H. A. Giles. For maps illustrating the geographic extent of China in the various dynasties, and the old trade routes, see E. H. Parker, China, 2d ed. rev., Dutton, 1924.

acceptance of the past as the ultimate authority. The result of such a culture was unity and harmony, and in art an expression that was racial rather than individual.

These peculiarly Chinese ideas and institutions, which have continued with little fundamental change to the present time, were established by the Shang and formulated by the Chou, a people of great vitality. This formulation was largely the work of Confucius (551- 479 b.c.), philosopher, historian, and statesman. The early climax of Chinese culture reached in the Chou dynasty, it is interesting to note, was roughly contemporary with cultural climaxes in Persia, Greece, and India. While Con- fucianism is frequently classed as a re- ligion, it is neither a religion nor a philosophy, but a social and ethical system that aims to secure a stable so- ciety by regulating human relation- ships. “Chinese Humanism,” says Lin Yutang, “in its essence is the study of human relations through a correct ap- preciation of human values by the psy- chology of human motives to the end that we may behave as reasonable hu- man beings.” 2

Meanwhile, in the valley of the Yang- tze Kiang, the “land of thorns,” lived the “jungle barbarians,” of a different race and a different conception of life. Among them grew up a sect known as the Taoists — followers of the Tao, the impersonal force or principle identified with nature. These dwellers by the Blue River had an intense love of nature — of the mountains, rivers, mists, and clouds that are characteristic of that part of China. They claimed as their founder Lao-tzu (Lao-tse) (570?-490 B.c.), a contemporary of Confucius but a teacher who recognized the individual to a far greater extent, for he taught that the self must be recognized in order to be brought into harmony with the 2 The Wisdom of India and China , p. 571.

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CHINESE ART

great impersonal force permeating the universe that was the ultimate good.

Toward the end of the Chou dynasty the Ts'in, a Tatar people who were living on the western boundaries and serving the Chou as horseherds and charioteers, finally became the domi- nating power, and the king of Ts'in be- came the first emperor of China (246 b .c.) . The T s £ in consolidated the empire, set up a strongly centralized govern- ment, built the Great Wall as a pro- tection against the Mongolian nomads, and in order to abolish local patriotism burned the written books. They also gave to the country the name by which we know it: China — Ts'in, or Chin, land. They, in turn, were overcome by the Han, who by dividing the land set up a feudal state. The Han were the great supporters of Confucian ideals, and established Confucian writings as the exclusive classical literature of China. Under the Han, China ex- panded westward to protect itself against the barbarous tribes of central Asia and also to keep open the great trade routes over which its silks and other products were carried west even to the Roman Empire.

These highways were most important in the history of Chinese civilization. Along them traders, pilgrims, and ar- mies traveled between eastern and west- ern Asia. While in China proper the native culture had been developing un- til it had formed established traditions, over these highways the Buddhist faith was slowly making its way as the Buddhist monks and missionaries estab- lished their monasteries farther and farther eastward, especially in eastern Turkestan, which had become a Chi- nese protectorate. Here in the oases that formed a chain of cities across the desert plateaus the religion of India met the culture of China, and the fu- sion of the two formed the basis of the later great art of China.

Buddhism, during the thousand years since its founding, had developed into something much more comprehensive than the simple teaching of Prince Siddhartha. As a strongly missionary religion, its conception of salvation in- cluded the whole universe; and in this aspect perhaps even more important than the Buddha were the Bodhisatt- vas. Avalokiteshvara, the lord of pity, under the name Kuan-yin was to be- come (in female form) one of the most important of the Chinese and Japanese Buddhist deities. With well-established traditions, China was ready for the stimulation that the emotionalism and the mysticism of Buddhism could give it. The ground had been prepared by the Taoists, whose ideas were somewhat akin to those of the Buddhists. We read of pilgrims such as Fa-heen (or Fa-hsien) 1 traveling through India (a.d. 399-414) visiting sacred places, learning of the faith, and collecting literature about it. The translation of the Indian idea into a Chinese mode of expression we see developing in Tur- kestan. But its full assimilation and ulti- mate expression took place in China proper in the Tang dynasty (618-907), a golden age in all the aits — painting, sculpture, metalwork, poetry, music. Toward the end of the Tang period, a conservative reaction set in against Bud- dhism and other religions that had se- cured a foothold; it soon developed into a revolution that demanded a return to the Confucian system. The success of the revolutionists (845) brought about the destruction of temples and mon- asteries with their great series of fres- coes, and a general ruin of all works of art. This is why so little real Tang art has survived. Another reaction in favor of Buddhism restored many of the tem- ples and monasteries in the tenth cen- tury, but by that time most of the paintings were irretrievably lost.

1 See page 198.

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ANCIENT ART

[a] Wine Vessel, Ku. Bronze . H. 12% in. Shang Dynasty. Buckingham Collection, Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

METALWORK

In the writings of the Chou period — and they are plentiful — we read of temples, palaces, sculpture, and paint- ings, almost all of which have been lost because of the perishable materials of which they were made and the devas- tating character of the climate. One of the greatest expressions of the age, however, and one that is peculiarly Chinese, has survived — the bronzes. Their full significance is seen only in re- lation to their users, a people organized socially on the unit of the family, whose reverence for ancestors was equal to

that which they felt for winds, rains, and clouds, those manifestations of na- ture about which centers the worship of an agricultural people. These basic cultural factors suggest the origins of the uses, shapes, and decorative motifs of the vessels and throw light upon the impression of deep significance and hieratic character that we feel in them . 1

Something of this spirit we discern in the frequent inscriptions found on the bronzes, as on one of the bells that were used to summon the spirits of the departed, or the guests to the banquet, or to serve as one of the instruments of the orchestra: “I, Kuo-Shu Lu, say: Grandly distinguished was my illus- trious father Hui Shu, with profound reverence he maintained a surpassingly bright virtue. He excelled alike in the rule of his own domain and in his liberal treatment of strangers from afar. When I, Lu, presumed to assume the leader- ship of the people and to take as my model the dignified demeanor of my illustrious father, a memorial of the event was presented at the Court of the Son of Heaven, and the Son of Heaven graciously honoured me with abundant gifts. I, Lu, humbly acknowledge the timely gifts of the Son of Heaven and proclaim their use in the fabrication for my illustrious father Hui Shu of this great sacrificial tuneful bell. Oh, illus- trious father seated in majesty above, protect with sheltering wings us who are left here below. Peaceful and glorious, extend to me, Lu, abundant happiness! I, Lii, and my sons and grandsons for ten thousand years to come, will ever- lastingly prize this bell and use it in our ritual worship .” 2

1 There is but little accurate knowledge con- cerning these bronzes, for though the Chinese themselves have great reverence for them, and early began to collect them, compile catalogues of them, and write treatises about them, these studies are lacking in scientific accuracy.

2 S. W. Bushell, Chinese Art, 2 vols., Brentano, 1924, Vol. I, p. 73.

CHINESE ART

[a] Food Vessel, Ting. Bronze. H. in. [b] Wine Vessel , Tsun. Bronze. H. dj in. Shang Dynasty. Buckingham Collection, Art Shang Dynasty. Buckingham Collection, Art Institute of Chicago . {Art Institute) Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

The purpose of these vessels seems to conventionalized animal head that has have been in some instances ritual (to been cleft into two halves and spread be used in the sacrificial rites of ancestor out laterally on each side of the nose, worship), in some, to record important Another motif almost always found, es- events or favors from the king; and in pecially as a ground pattern, is the

others, for eating and drinking on espe- fret which is usually interpreted as the

cial occasions. Whatever their purpose, cloud or thunder pattern. The Chinese

they were considered one of the greatest adapted these motifs, with great ingenu-

family possessions, and by invaders, ity and variation, to the surfaces to be

most desirable loot. Their shapes seem decorated, and displayed particular sen-

to be dictated by function. Figure 210A sitivity for the relation of the motif in

shows a tall slender drinking vessel hold- scale to its function in the total design,

ing about a pint and probably used in In Figure 210A the lanceolate pattern

religious ceremonies; Figure 2 ha, a accents the slender proportions of the

food vessel; and Figure 2 1 ib, a wine cup. In Figure 21 1 a the bold ogre mask

vessel of a shape derived from an owl. occupies the heaviest part of the jar and

The decorative motifs are similar on all is set off by the wavering pattern of the

the bronzes: highly conventionalized more delicate fret of the background,

representations of dragons, cicadas, In Figure 21 ib the decorative scheme is

snakes, birds, or animals connected built upon a bold curve with a strong

with an agricultural people and un- pattern and upon the interplay of

doubtedly symbolic in their formative countercurves in the feet and the tail;

period. A common motif is the so-called by this framework the minor allover

ogre mask, which consists of a highly pattern is controlled.

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ANCIENT ART

[a] Stone Relief. From a tomb . L. c. 5 ft. Han Dynasty. ( Chavannes ) Under a tree full of nesting birds before a two-story house stand an unhitched horse and an empty chariot. In- side the house four men, two of whom are kneeling, bow before a personage whose importance is indicated by both his size and his position under a canopy. On the upper floor servants attend a lady seated in the middle. The tiled roofs are covered with monkeys and peacocks. On the left at a distance an archer shoots at the birds. Beyond him a scribe writes down the names <tf four kneeling men. In the lower zone on the right the principal chariot of a procession is preceded by two men on foot carrying batons, two horsemen carrying banners, and two other chariots.

Technically, these bronzes illustrate a pinnacle in bronze-working. The cast- ing, by the cire-perdue process, shows a perfection of skill not only in molding and casting tiny details so that very little if any finishing was necessary, but in the ability to cast a piece with handles and even with the base in one piece — a skill not surpassed by modern mechani- cal methods. One element of charm in these bronzes today is accidental, for the beautiful blue, green, and irides- cent color was not intentional on the part of the artist but is due to the patina subsequently accreted. 1

1 A patina is a crust that forms on a bronze (as on some other materials) during a long period of time because of the chemical action of the alloys that compose the bronze, and the atmosphere or material in which the article is buried. It may be thin or thick, rough or smooth, and variously colored.

ARCHITECTURE

Chinese architecture in its uniformity through the ages well illustrates the con- servatism of the race. When once the Chinese had evolved a type of building elastic enough to fulfill various func- tions, he saw no reason for changing what had become a satisfactory tradi- tion. This uniformity is a matter both of material and of design. For some in- explicable reason the Chinese has used timber as his chief building material, despite a plentiful supply of stone and of clay for brick. The harder materials were used only for substructures, for bridges and military defenses, and for the tiles which served universally as roofing. Such a heavy roof resting upon wooden supports made none too stable a building, one that was subject to col-

CHINESE ART

213

[a] Temple of Heaven. Peiping. 18th cent.

lapse from earthquake or fire. So it is that no buildings from any period be- fore the T‘ang have survived; our knowledge of ancient Chinese archi- tecture is garnered from descriptions in Chinese literature and from recent buildings which appear to continue the old traditions comparatively faith- fully.

The type seems to have been set as early as the Chou period, and we read of Han palaces huge enough to accommodate thousands of people and resplendent with bronze columns, mural paintings, silk hangings, fine rugs, and lacquer work. The most striking feature of the design as it is used in recent buildings is the broadly projecting curved roof , 1 whose expanse, conspicuous because the entrance is on the long side, repeats the broad earth to which the building clings. Some- times this roof is single; frequently it is double — that is, on two levels, the

1 The origin of the curved roof, often with upturned corners, is a moot question. Of many explanations suggested, none is satisfactory.

upper level supported by interior col- umns not visible from the outside. The construction consists of columns, tie beams, and brackets, and an open tim- ber roof covered with tiles laid in beds of mortar. The walls are not functional as supports, but merely fill in the space between the columns. Horizontality is the dominant note in the design, and any extensions consist of horizontal pro- jections.

Ornament and color are especially stressed and are of great splendor. The approaches and the balustrades of the terrace are elaborately carved. The roof tiles of royal buildings are yellow, the imperial color in China. On other buildings the tiles are sometimes blue or green; and the choice, determined by strict laws, is indicative of the rank of the owner and symbolic in meaning. The ridgepoles are decorated with dragons, phoenixes, and grotesques, as if to break the long lines as well as to ward off evil spirits. The columns, the beams, and the undersides of the projecting roofs and the interior are elaborately ornamented with gold and vermilion, carvings, lacquer, and inlay.

The Temple of Heaven (Fig. 213A) well illustrates symbolism in Chinese archi- tecture. Its Chinese name means “Tem- ple of Prayer for the Year,” for here each spring the emperor went to offer sacrifices and prayer for a propitious year, not only to heaven but to the im- perial forefathers, to sun, moon, and stars, and to the spirits of nature in winds, clouds, and rain. Here again color and form are determined by sym- bolism. As blue is the color of heaven, so the tiles of the temple are a deep cobalt. And during the ceremonies of the spring sacrifice blue dominates the interior, for the ceremonial vessels are of blue porcelain, the worshipers are

clad in blue; a blue tone is cast over everything by the Venetian blinds made of blue glass which cover all the doors and windows. Likewise, the unusual circular shape of the temple is sym- bolic of the spherical appearance of the heavens. The temple is an imposing structure, its triple roof with gilded ball pointing with assurance toward the heav- ens. This impressiveness is increased particularly by the location of the build- ing; for it stands upon an elevation, sur- rounded by encircling marble terraces, and approached by broad stairways set at the cardinal points of the compass, which have ornamental balustrades.

A characteristic feature of Chinese landscape is the Buddhist pagoda, Which originated in the umbrella, that symbol of royalty in India which usually ter- minated the stupa, often in a multiple form (Fig. 198A). Some of these pagodas are of a vigorous, massive type, with as many as thirteen stories. Others are more slender (Fig. 214A), with elegance of proportion, interesting variety in the shape of the stories, and elaborate orna- mentation. One of the famous “porce- lain” 1 pagodas is faced with glazed tiles in five colors — deep purplish-blue, rich green, yellow, red, and turquoise-blue — so that the effect as it stands in an open place surrounded with greenery is most charming.

The function of the pagoda is not clear, though it often formed a part of a temple group. But it is always so placed that it stands out prominently against the surrounding landscape. It has been compared to the Gothic spire. “Perhaps after all,” says Mr. Silcock, “there is something in the notion that in periods of religious fervor the soul of

1 “Porcelain” is a misnomer. These pagodas are faced with glazed tile, a method of ornamen- tation carried out effectively in Babylonia- Assyria; and it is quite probable that the Chinese of the Han dynasty, as they pushed their bound- aries westward, learned of its use from these Western peoples.

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CHINESE ART

man expresses aspiration by building towers pointing to the skies, whether he is a follower of Christ or Buddha ” 1 — or indeed a worshiper of Quetzalcoatl, for whose worship the Maya placed his temples upon lofty pyramidal bases.

Another characteristic architectural form in China is the gateway, the pailou made of wood with tile roofs, or of stone imitating the wooden structure. These gateways appear to be derived from the gates of the stupas in India, but the sil- houette of the upper part has been de- termined by the typical curved line of Chinese roof. Unlike the Indian stupa gate, these arches are not necessarily entrances but are often independent structures, erected as memorials to dis- tinguished Chinese, both dead and liv- ing, and may be compared with the triumphal arches of Rome, which were erected for the same purpose.

SCULPTURE

Sculpture in ancient China before the advent of Buddhism seems to have func- tioned to serve the dead. There were tomb figurines of clay gaily painted — - spontaneous and freely characteristic representations of people and animals. Stone sculpture decorated the tomb, the pillars that formed a gateway to the path leading to it, and the stone slabs set up along the walls of the anteroom of the burial chamber. At royal and princely tombs, massive stone lions or chimeral figures stood guard. In addi- tion to the spirited figurines, the highly decorative Han reliefs are notable. Be- cause of their strongly lineal character, they seem less like reliefs and more like drawings or engravings, with the back- ground slightly cut back. The proces- sion of mounted riders and carriages, which may represent the journey of the

1 Introduction to Chinese Art and History, Lon- don, 1936, p. 134.

[a] Buddhist Votive Stele. Erected in a.d. 554, “as a means of securing the happiness and welfare of the donors, their ancestors, their posterity, their relations, and friends, the Emperor in particular and the Chinese people in general” H. c. 7 ft. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. ( Boston Museum ) Note the two types of relief: flat with incised lines in the two lower zones and high relief model- ing in the upper zones.

2X6

ANCIENT ART

[a] Maitreya. Limestone. H. £§• ft. Northern [b] Kuan-yin. T'ang Dynasty. Me-

Wei Dynasty. Early 5th cent. a.d. Museum of morial Art Gallery , Rochester , New Tork. Fine Arts , Boston. (. Boston Museum ) (. Memorial Art Gallery)

dead to the spirit world, is filled with a vi- ponderous stone and as an expression

vacious pattern and swift linear rhythms of power and energy.

(Fig. 2 1 2 a) . The curves of the wheels The influence exerted by Buddhism and the bodies of the horses are brought upon sculpture was a fusing of the new

into sharp interplay with the angles ideas with the traditional native art,

and diagonals of the horses’ legs; the creating a product that was inherently

vertical-horizontal arrangement of the Chinese. The preliminary stages are

umbrellas adds a quieting note. Among seen in colossal figures of Buddha and

the guardian winged lions and chimeras, the Bodhisattvas carved in the caves

Figure 2 1 7A, with its full rounding forms, along the routes over which Buddhists

striding pose, strong curve of the head, worked their way eastward. Associated

open mouth, and long tongue, is equally with these purely Buddhist themes are

imposing as related, rounded masses of non-Hindu details, ornaments, and

CHINESE ART

217

themes. The fusion of these styles ap- pears in a richly decorative votive stele of the Wei dynasty (Fig. 215A). Above the inscriptions that make a broad, firm base are four seals forming a square that is surmounted by a reliquary; four do- nors with their horses; worshipers; and lions. In the middle zone Buddha, with the uplifted hand symbolic of his teach- ing, is seated in a canopied niche with two disciples, Bodhisattvas, and guard- ians. The upper zone contains Buddhas and Bodhisattvas under a canopy, and scenes connected with the life of Bud- dha. The figures of the donors and the reliquary in the two lower zones are in- cised and the ground is cut back for contrast, the traditional Han style of decoration. The Buddhist subjects in the middle and upper zones are carved in high relief, modeled; they show strong Indian influence.

A single figure of the Wei dynasty which expresses the Hindu theme in a style strongly Chinese is a Maitreya (Fig. 2 1 6 a ), the Bodhisattva who is destined to become the next Buddha. He is seated in an austerely frontal pose with legs crossed and hand uplifted in the

traditional Indian pose of the teacher. The features are conventionally treated with planes sharply cut. Except for the head and the arms, the figure is so flat that it gives one more the impression of relief than of the round. The drapery, plaited and girdled high, and the streamers of the cloak that cross in front in an almost geometrical pattern, fall over the pedestal in a conventional way, with feeling for sweeping, rhyth- mic pattern. Here is an archaic art which by the use of symbols and con- ventions, with no attempt to create an illusion of natural appearance, makes all the more emphatic the spiritual fer- vor of the conception.

The evolution of these archaic forms into a classic climax took place in early T‘ang. But even though the forms be- came full and rounding and the deco- rative details richly elegant, and though the poses relaxed from austere frontality into elegant and dignified grace (Fig. 2 1 6 b ), the sculptors never surrendered their traditional ideal of conventions and abstract form to an attempt to copy nature. The cutting of the stone is ex- pert, though it may lack the energy of

ANCIENT ART

[a] Ku K‘ai-chih. Lady Feng and the Bear. Detail of the Admonitions of the Instructress. Probably a Tang copy. Late fth or early yth cent. a.d. British Museum , London. ( British Museum) The seal impressions were added by later connoisseurs ( see note 2, p. 219).

the crisp carving of Wei art; the folds tend toward naturalism, and although they still form a rhythmic pattern, it is a pattern that is not so tingling with life and meaning as in Wei.

CALLIGRAPHY AND PAINTING

The Chinese early began to develop one of his greatest expressions: callig- raphy, poetry, and painting. We say “one” of his expressions, because the three are inextricably connected. Chi- nese writing evolved from pictographs; that is, it presented an image of the idea directly to the eye, in contrast with most systems of writing, which are based on sounds that are symbols of the idea. In time, the pictographs became more conventionalized and highly complex, yet they never lost their pictographic character. The abstract form of the character and the quality of the strokes that make it are of great beauty in them- selves; and when they are joined with a poetic idea the result is a combina-

tion of form and content which makes one realize why the Chinese consider calligraphy one of their finest arts.

The painter used the same materials as the calligrapher: Chinese ink and especially prepared silk or paper. The process of making the finest ink was a secret, often a carefully guarded herit- age. The characters were made with a brush, not a pen, and required a skill attained only through long years of practice. The brush was not held as we hold a pen, but vertically in the hand; its movement was sometimes controlled by the wrist, as in executing a delicate detail, and sometimes by the whole arm from the shoulder, as in making a broad sweeping stroke. Whatever their charac- ter, one quality permeates the line of all fine writing and painting in China — a living force. Whether functioning as an edge, a contour, or calligraphically, line has a life of its own which makes the writing or the painting dynamic.

As the same materials, technique, and habits of mind control the work of

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CHINESE ART

the painter and the writer, we may ex- pect to find in painting the same sim- plification, suggestion, and abstraction as in poetry. Of the poet-painter Wang Wei a Chinese writer said: “I can taste in the poem something of the picture’s flavor; and in the picture I see some- thing of the poem.” 1

The chief forms of Chinese painting are frescoes, hanging scrolls (kakemonos), long scrolls ( makimonos ), and album leaves. The frescoes, which formed great series of wall decoration, majestic and hieratic like the Ajanta Frescoes and the early Christian mosaics, have disap- peared from China proper, and we can judge of them only through the wall paintings of Turkestan and Japan, which reflect something of their nature.

One important difference between Eastern and Western painting lies in the method of exhibiting it. The framed picture, with which we are so familiar, is practically unknown in the Orient. The Chinese panel or scroll was not kept on view continuously, but formed a part of the family treasure, to be ex- hibited for a short time in a place of honor, or to be brought out for a brief period of enjoyment or for some con- noisseur to examine and to affix his seal. 2 3 It was then rolled up and returned to a place of safety.

Of early Chinese painting only a Few fragments remain. Something of its na- ture we learn from a makimono in the British Museum attributed to Ku K f ai- chih (c. a.d. 400), 3 whom the Chinese writers consider one of their great painters. The subject of the scroll was

1 Arthur Waley, An Introduction to the Study of Chinese Painting, London, 1923, p. 144.

2 There are seals of about fifty former owners or famous connoisseurs, for example, on the scroll in the British Museum attributed to Ku K'ai-chih.

3 For interesting stories of this painter see H. A. Giles, An Introduction to the History of Chinese Pictorial Art, 2d ed. rev., London, 1918, p. l8j and Arthur Waley, op, cit., p. 45.

taken from a Chinese writer, who ex- plains the principles that an instructress in the royal palace would teach to the princesses under her care. The detail reproduced in Figure 2 1 8 a represents the lady Feng interposing herself between the Emperor and a bear that had bro- ken loose from the circus ring. At the right sits the emperor, perfectly calm, surrounded by his courtiers; at the left two men are attacking the bear, in front of which the lady Feng stands fearlessly, her lithe figure, with its draperies bil- lowing about her feet, an epitome of courageous self-sacrifice. The secular subject is interesting, but perhaps the most striking characteristic is the great amount of expression created almost alone by line. The line is delicate but firm and is used to model the figures and at the same time calligraphically, as in the draperies, to create pattern and movement. Light washes of color laid on flat within the contours create a pattern of light and dark to differen- tiate the areas. '

220

ANCIENT ART

[a] Burial Girdle Or- nament. Brown jade. L. 6 in. Han Dynasty. Chi- cago Natural History Museum. ( Chicago Nat- ural History Museum )

Spirited rhythmic movement, so prominent in the Ku K‘ai-chih scroll and in the Han reliefs, expresses an inner vitality, a spiritual quality, uni- versal in Chinese painting. When, a century after Ku K £ ai-chih, a painter formulated critical principles in paint- ing in the Six Canons, he made “Rhythmic Vitality 55 the first canon. 1

An accomplished school of painting, then, had developed in China before the coming of Buddhism. The earliest evidences of the infiltration of the new faith we see in the paintings of Paradise from the monastery caves of Turkestan. These paintings represent the paradise where Amida Buddha lived in gorgeous surroundings, attended by Bodhisatt- vas and believers. 2 Paradise and its pleasures were pictured in terms of an earthly court of great splendor and joy. Yet a lofty mood permeates all the fig- ures, a mood of spiritual attainment and peace.

It was in the T'ang dynasty that there

1 See Laurence Binyon, The Flight of the Dragon, Dutton, 1922, for the Six Canons.

2 Amida, or Amitabha, Buddha means “Buddha of Boundless Light.” This worship may have originated among the sun worshipers of Parthia, for Buddhism, as it penetrated north- western India, there received some Greek and Iranian influences (seepages 198, 201), which it

carried along into Turkestan. In Turkestan we see a mixed culture: Manichaeans, Buddhists, and Christians lived together peaceably. Yet Buddhism was the dominating element.

came about an amalgamation of the powerful native Chinese tradition and the energizing spirit of Buddhism, for Buddhism had brought to China a new conception of deity. Buddha in his con- templative aspect, with his conquest over self and his universal love and pity for suffering mankind as expressed in the Bodhisattva Kuan-yin, was partic- ularly appealing, and inspired an art concerned not with the visual facts of natural appearance but with those highly simplified, essential aspects of form that could express an inner life of calm intensity.

Greatest of the T'ang painters, the Chinese tell us, was Wu Tao-tzu (born about a.d. 700), and his greatest paint- ings were the series of frescoes in the Buddhist temples, destroyed in the revo- lution that ended the T'ang dynasty. Many are the stories told of him. 3 What stands out clearly in these tales is the great vitality of Wu’s art. His brush strokes were so intense that they gave a sense not of realism, but of a reality so powerful that it far surpassed any visual copy.

Another aspect of Buddhism that in- fluenced Chinese painting profoundly was its attitude toward nature. We saw in India how Buddhism recognized all life as a unit. Some of the poets and philosophers of South China had al-

3 See Giles, op. cit., pp. 47 ff.j and Waley, op. cit., pp. 1x2 ff.

CHINESE ART

221

[a] Chimera. Brown- ish-green jade. L. in. Han Dynasty. This mon- ster, called p'i-sieh (“ warding off evil influ- ences ”), was buried in the grave to dispel demons and protect its master from evil. Chicago Natural History Museum. ( Chi- cago Natural History Museum)

ready realized something of this kinship with nature, and their spirit, intensely augmented by the powerful Buddhist belief in the universal brotherhood of all forms of life, laid the foundation of those schools of landscape-painting which culminated in the Sung period in one of the great accomplishments of Chinese art.

JADES

Jade-carving is a very old art in China and may possibly be traced to the work of the lapidary in Babylonia. Jade is a relatively rare, tough, hard stone, usually greenish in color. It was obtained by the Chinese from the moun- tains of West China and from the rivers that had their rise near the quarries and washed the jade pebbles and boulders for some distance down their courses. In early days, particularly fine boulders were kept in the temples as precious relics, and some of these were carved in the eighteenth century into bells, vases, and bowls. Because of the numer- ous unusual qualities of jade, its appeals are many. Its reserved color, like di- luted emerald, and its soft, waxy luster,

at times slightly translucent, appeal to the eye; and its resonancy when it is struck, to the ear, thus making it valued for musical instruments. But the quality which the Chinese prize most highly is its texture, a highly pleasurable waxy texture which they liken to mutton fat. Because of its toughness, jade-carving requires great technical skill. This was especially true for the Chinese, who was equipped with only a few simple tools — saws for cutting and shaping; iron disks and drills, worked by treadles, for carving; and for polishing, several kinds of abrasives, such as quartz, garnet, emery, and, hardest of all, ruby dust. These abrasives were applied with wood, leather, or gourd skin, because the en- tire surface, even in the deepest crevices, must be free from all irregularities and from all tool marks.

The uses of jade were varied. Some- times unadorned boulders were prized for themselves, almost reverentially; more often they were fashioned into arti- cles of personal adornment or into vases, cups, bowls, or various charms and symbolic figures. For the early jades, like the bronzes, were influenced by re- ligious and emotional symbolism. This

222

ANCIENT ART

is seen in the personal ornaments, per- haps the most interesting of which are the girdle pendants (Fig. 219A). Seven pieces of jade formed this pendant, which tinkled as the bearer walked. Each was a token of love and friend- ship, as an old song says: “Who will give me a quince, T shall return to him a central side-ornament of fine jade for the girdle-pendant. It is not meant as an act of thanks, but I want to render our friendship everlasting. Who will give me a peach, I shall return to him the red jade yao . . .” (with the same re- frain). 1 Such ornaments were some- times buried with the dead, as emblems of the parting caused by death and also of an eternal love. Such a burial-girdle ornament is seen in Figure 22OA. On the right is a phoenix on a cloud form, look- ing down toward the long slender hy- dra, with a bird’s head, on the lower left side; above, along the upper edge, are cloud bands carved in long firm curves. To the eye the pendant pre- sents a design of curves, repeated and opposed, built into the elliptical shape, with a pleasing angularity in the hatch- ings on the wings of the phoenix. Part of -the design is in relief, part incised, and it is so strong and so lucid that one can follow it as easily with one’s fingers as with one’s eyes. This is true also of the monster of Figure 221 a. What a pleasing alternation here between the smooth and broken surfaces and in the repetition of the large spirals of the haunches in the smaller spirals of the hair!

The symbolic and ritualistic jades from the Shang and Chou periods — rings, disks, axes, knives, etc. — ap- proach pure geometry in the abstract simplicity of their shapes. They are often subtly modeled and always highly polished.

1 Berthold Laufer, Jade, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1912, p. 198, by permission of the publishers.

SUMMARY

The arts of China were the arts of a sober, patient, conservative people whose law was the custom of their an- cestors. Art and education therefore looked to the past. Training consisted in copying the masters. The attitude of the Chinese on the matter of copying Dr. Laufer explains thus: “Where and what is the original, after all? Of these Chinese copies and copies of copies, the word of Holmes (The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table) holds good: ‘A thought is often original though you have uttered it a hundred times.’ ... As everything Chinese is pervaded by an atmosphere different from our own, so also a Chi- nese copyist is framed of a different mould; his work is creative invention, not purely receptive, but partaking of the spirit permeating the soul of the master.” 2

The Chinese people early developed native arts of power and skill, notably their hieratic bronzes, and also their sculpture and painting. When Bud- dhism, coming from India, became a stimulating factor, it brought sculpture and painting to a lofty attainment. Sculpture in the Wei period was con- ventional and austere, but compelling in its spiritual significance; in the Tang period, though it became more natu- ralistic, it still retained a conventional treatment. Painting and calligraphy, in- separable arts, early showed sureness of hand and spirited movement in the use of Chinese ink, and during the Tang dynasty reached a mastery that was used to express surcharged reality — reality based not upon visual percep- tion but upon a vital inner meaning objectified in a distinctively linear style by traditionally accepted conventions.

See the Bibliography on page 385.

2 Laufer, op. cit., p. 326, by permission of the Chicago Natural History Museum.

JAPANESE ART

[a] Horyuji. Near JVara. a.d. 586-607. In the center is the kondo containing the shrine and behind it the pagoda. At the right is the entrance , and at the left the preaching hall.

JAPANESE ART

(a.d. 552-900)

TT^HE origin of the race of Yamato JL (the native name of Japan) is problematical. As far back as we can trace the Japanese, they are an ener- getic, warlike people, yet “gentle in the arts of peace”; possessed of a primitive religion, known as Shinto, which in- cluded the worship of the powers of nature, especially the sun goddess, and of ancestors.

Their country is one of great natural beauty. “The waters of the waving rice-

fields, the variegated contour of the archipelago, so conducive to individu- ality, the constant play of its soft-tinted seasons, the shimmer of its silver air, the verdure of its cascaded hills, and the voice of the ocean echoing about its pine-girt shores — of all these was born that tender simplicity, that romantic purity, which so tempers the soul of Japanese art, differentiating it at once from the leaning to monotonous breadth of the Chinese and from the tendency to overburdened richness of Indian art. That innate love of cleanness which, though sometimes detrimental to gran- deur, gives its exquisite finish to our in- dustrial and decorative art, is probably nowhere to be found in Continental work .” 1

But profound as were the influences of the varied topography of the land, the chief energizing power in Japanese culture came from Buddhism. The im- pulse of Buddhism had already flooded and transformed Chinese thought, and then in the sixth century, under a Chi- nese rather than an Indian mode of ex- pression, passed on with undiminished power of stimulation to Japan. With the religion came echoes of the art of India, and not only a strong influence but at first a close imitation of Chinese art by way of Korea. Korean artists came to Japan to execute works.

The story of Japanese art is a story of successive waves of influence from China, followed by periods of retire- ment. At no time, however, has Japan been a mere imitator. Just as China assimilated and molded to its own mode of thought and expression the ideas of India, so the native culture of Yamato, though a heavy debtor to both India and China, still is an individual prod- uct.

Buddhism first came in the Suiko period 2 from China of the Six Dy- nasties, especially the Wei, and mani- fested itself as something spiritual and mysterious, conceived in terms of ab- stract form. The second wave came from T‘ang China, bringing with it a spirit of grandeur and exaltation that we discern in majestic, contemplative Buddhas and gracious and all-merciful Bodhisattvas.

1 Kakuzo Okalcura, The Ideals of the East, 1920, p. 16, by permission of E. P. Dutton & Company.

2 The chief periods of early Japanese art are:

Suiko, a.d. 552-645; Hakuho, 645-709; Tem- pyo, 709-793; Jogan, 793-900.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Love of nature, and love and under- standing of wood, nature’s chief ma- terial in this land, are fundamental in the building art in Japan. Very little stone is to be found, but an abundance of timber. To make a building harmoni- ous with nature and to construct it of the materials at hand constituted the builder’s problem, whether the struc- ture was a temple or a home.

Though Shinto temples are to be found in Japan , 3 the Buddhist temple and monastery are the highest expres- sion of Japanese religious architecture. Many monasteries were built under the patronage of the court, and one of these, Horyuji (near Nara, the capital and center of Buddhist faith and learning) in its buildings, paintings, carvings, and equipment is an epitome of early Bud- dhist art (Fig. 223A). Here vermilion buildings rising from a white sanded ground are set in a spacious walled area in the midst of a mountainous, heavily wooded landscape. They are grouped along an axis leading from the gate to the preaching hall; the kondo or golden hall, containing the chief shrine, and the pagoda stand in balanced position on each side of the axis; and the entire group is surrounded by a walled cor- ridor. Outside this wall are grouped subsidiary structures, such as adminis- trative buildings, treasure houses, and cloisters, for the monastery served sev- eral purposes. Like the medieval monas- tery of Europe, it was a temple, a chari- table institution, a hospital, and a center of learning where philosophy and music were taught as well as religious subjects.

The general style shows its Chinese

3 Notably the Temple of Ise, the sun goddess, in central Japan, which has been replaced every twenty years by an exact copy and hence, though built entirely of wood, preserves in excellent condition the original form.

[a] Tumedono Kwannon . Wood, originally covered with gold. H. y ft. Early yth cent. ajd. Horyuji.

[b] Maitreya. Wood. Suiko. Chuguji Nunnery , Nara‘. (Figs. 225 a and B reprinted by permission of the Cleveland Museum of Art from Japanese Sculpture of the Suiko Period by Langdon Warner, Yale University Press)

origin. There is the same massiveness, especially in the dominating roofs, the same somber dignity despite the bril- liant color. Yet one feels here, especially in the pagoda, a more subtle feeling for proportion and a delicacy in the sweep- ing curves of the eaves that indicate the Japanese influence. The details and the restrained decoration are refined, with careful spacing and proportioning of the members and an entasis in the col- umns. The construction is essentially of wood. Wooden columns from two to three feet in diameter support heavy beams, the angle of joining being filled with a simple bracket. On these rests the open timber roof covered with tiles. The wall space is filled partly by plaster

and partly by sliding screens. Such a structure is not only suitable to the cli- mate of Japan but is loosely yet firmly enough constructed to withstand the frequent earthquakes to which the coun- try is subject.

The interior is splendid. On a plat- form is a gilded statue of the Buddha with attendant Bodhisattvas, above which hangs an elaborate canopy with angels carrying musical instruments. The timbers are decorated with ver- milion, blue, and green, and with gild- ing and lacquer; the walls are covered with frescoes representing the paradise of Amida Buddha. The rich color har- mony adds to the mystic calm of the Buddha, so that the whole effect sug-

[a] Kwannon. Bronze . H. 8^ ft Hakuho period. Takushiji.

gests a plastic representation of the paradise seen in the T‘ang paintings.

The cult statues and the decorative figures of the shrine are chiefly of wood or bronze, as the scarcity of stone in Japan militated against its use as a me- dium for sculpture. The abundant tim- ber of the country furnished several native woods suitable for carving, no- tably cypress and camphor wood. Many of the statues were originally covered with gold foil or painted, and thus har- monized with the colorful interior.

Sculpture, like architecture,, had its rise in the coming of Buddhism from

China by way of Korea, and its highest expressions were created under the stim- ulus of that faith. Thus its subject mat- ter, objectives, and forms were similar to those of Chinese sculpture. A popular subject was the Bodhisattva Kwannon, the Japanese equivalent of the Kuan- yin of China and the Avalokiteshvara of India. The Tumedono Kwannon (Fig. 225A) 1 is a tall, slender figure, which seen from the side is thin and flat, producing an effect of noncorporeality. The figure is clad in a long garment with conven- tional folds and ribbons hanging in loops from the arms. A lofty delicate crown of copper rests on the»head, be- hind which rises a lotus-leaf halo dec- orated with flamelike motifs that swirl up to the apex, their movement and rough texture acting as a foil to the quiet surfaces and long unbroken lines in the figure. The features are carved crisply on the oval face, conventionally, as in all archaic art. The folds of the drapery, sweeping outward in long un- broken curves, form a broad base, and by terminating in a wavelike motif cre- ate a pattern of contrasting unbroken and broken lines, of slow and rapid movement. The aim of the sculptor has been an impersonal objectification of dignity and beneficence by means of a symmetrical organization of conven- tional motifs, many of which are sym- bolic - — for example, the lotus pedestal, the position of the hands and the attri- butes, and particularly the large promi- nent halo so characteristic of Japanese Buddhist sculpture because of the spe- cial emphasis in Japan upon the light that radiated from the Buddha (an em- phasis seen in the popularity of the Amida Buddha ) . Thus the placid rhythms in the figure move upward — in an

1 The Tumedono, or Hall of Dreams, is a sanctu- ary at Horyuji where Prince Shotoku, founder of the monastery, practiced Buddhistic medita- tion. The statue has been held in great veneration in Japan even up to the present time.

[a] Amida Trinity of Tachibana Fujin. Bronze . Early 8th cent. a.d. Horyuji. Named for the original owner, Tachibana Fujin ( died a.d. 733), mother of Komyo Kogo, Empress of Shomu Tenno.

accelerated tempo, a rapid crescendo tions became more naturalistic, with

that is symbolic as well as esthetic — details partly conventional and partly

to the tiny stupa at the apex, symbol naturalistic, these changes were not

of the Buddha. made at the expense of the dominant

The trend of Japanese sculpture was theme. As in the art of India and China,

in the direction of naturalism, toward the pre-eminence of the theme is ines-

an approximation of visual perception. capable. The theme may be abstract

But in the Bodhisattvas of the Suiko age and expressed in an abstract form. But

one does not think of the human form form for its own sake lies outside the

first. Most appealing is a mysterious, OrientaPs conceptions of art.

ethereal quality, suggesting perfect poise A seated Maitreya, for example (Fig. and gracious beneficence. Though the 225 b )j is an expression of inner peace, figure acquired solidity and its propor- the consciousness of self-conquest, combined with great tenderness. The Bo- dhisattva is seated upon a high lotus pedestal; the left foot rests on a lotus, the right is crossed over the knee and lightly held by the hand; the chin rests meditatively upon the uplifted right hand. The figure has solidity and natural proportions, modified by such conven- tional requirements as broad shoulders, narrow waist, smooth round limbs — all reminiscent of the Gupta statues of India. The drapery is undercut rather than engraved, as it is in the Yumedono Kwannon. The whole figure is based upon the interplay of cylinders: the large cylinder of the base and the seat, smaller cylinders in the torso and the limbs. Note the vertical unity of the left arm and leg at right angles with the horizontal leg. This quiet balance is opposed by the angularity and the diagonal line of the left arm and of the upper part of the drapery: the rest of the folds fall in quiet vertical lines. These relationships of volume and line contribute to the calm, the tenderness, and the vitality of the representation. The statue is carved from one piece of wood and shows traces of gold.

This Suiko sculpture derived from that of the Wei dynasty and the Six Dynasties of China. In the Hakuho and Tempyo periods (also together known as the Nara period), another wave of influence appeared from T'ang China, a Buddhistic art centering about Amida Buddha. In the cult statues Buddha was usually represented as seated upon the lotus in the posture of meditation or with one hand uplifted signifying his preaching, and accompanied by stand- ing Bodhisattvas. Behind the figures rise the elaborate lofty halos shaped like leaves of the bodhi tree 1 and decorated with flame motifs and small seated Bud- dhas. Aims and conventions are dis-

1 The tree under which Gautama sat when he attained enlightenment; hence it was called the tree of enlightenment (bodhi).

cernible here similar to those in early T‘ang — the same elaborations of cos- tume, jewelry, and ribbons. The design (Fig. 226 a ) is eminently suited to bronze, and the sharp contours and linear rhythms enabled the sculptor to tie the figure, the great halo, and the finely designed pedestal into an extraordinary unity. There is a slight sway to the figure, and there is vigor in the crisp curves of ribbon, folds, and features, with a contrasting delicacy of texture in the necklace.

Most of the great Trinity groups are of bronze and reveal the masterly skill of the Japanese founders. An outstand- ing example is a small shrine (Fig. 22 7 a) in which the base represents the surface of a lotus pool from which rise on curv- ing stems three lotus flowers as pedestals for the Buddha and two attendants, all with the hands lifted in the “fear-not” mudra. Behind the figures is a screen with figures in relief and the halo for the Buddha. Rotund forms and suavely flowing lines dominate. The figure of the Buddha, although in frontal po- sition, is an outstanding example of rounding masses and flowing surfaces accented by crisp curving lines. On the screen behind the figures are angels on inverted lotuses, with ribbons floating above them as if they had just alighted; the intervening space is filled with lotus flowers and stems in very low relief, which produces a gentle movement over the surface. In contrast to this easy flow is the virile pattern of the halo, which consists of a central lotus motif framing the head of the Buddha, surrounded by an open border of radiating lines and an outer border with a floral design; along the rim are flames which rise to a point directly above the head of the Buddha and symbolize man’s aspira- tion from the lower life to the higher. The rapid movement in the screen en- hances the more placid rhythms of the central figure.

PAINTING

Like architecture and sculpture, much of the painting of Japan shows a direct influence from China. Buddhism fur- nished the stimulation for the earliest paintings now known, the frescoes in the Kondo of Horyuji, which are as typi- cally early T‘ang as the building itself and thus, like the latter, strongly Hindu. In theme, execution, scale, and com- position they appear to be closely re- lated to the Ajanta Frescoes. A popular subject was one of those celestial scenes in which Amida Buddha is seated upon a lotus, wrapped in meditation and sur- rounded by saints, deities, and disciples representative of the “vast community” of the Buddhist faith. There is the same stateliness and tenderness, the same vi- tality born of religious conviction, the same dynamic line, as in the Ajanta Frescoes.

SUMMARY

Japanese art, though derivative from Indian Buddhist forms through recur- ring waves of Chinese influence, in- fused into the derived forms a flavor of its own. Japanese Buddhist architecture was close to that of China in material, construction, and form. But it showed subtler feelings for proportion, for qual- ity of roof curves, and for decoration.

Early Buddhist sculpture, based on Chinese Wei and T £ ang styles, expressed, by means of symbolism and archaic conventions, an intense fervor, tranquil- lity, and otherworldliness, a clarity of formal relationships, and a command of materials — wood and bronze.

Contributing rich color to the splen- dor of temple interiors, painting con- sisted largely of Buddhist frescoes much in the style of the Atjana Frescoes.

See the Bibliography on page 397.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

W HILE the early cultures of India and China were slowly evolving from the Neolithic stage, the same proc- ess was going on in the Americas. The outlines of development are equally dim. What is clear is that about the close of the last glacial age (from 25,000 to 10,000 b.c.) there began a long-con- tinued series of migrations from Asia by way of the Aleutians (then probably a land passage) and Alaska. The migrants were Mongoloid nomads of the Stone Age, with no knowledge of agriculture but possibly some of basketry. Over the centuries they spread out, partly be- cause of pressure from oncoming immi- grants and partly because of the more favorable climate and living-conditions farther south, until they occupied the two continents. So widely and sparsely were they scattered over these great areas that, because of the differences of geography and climate and of lack of contact, there evolved from the same stem a great diversity of cultures. At some time (possibly about 3,000 b.c.) and at some place (some say on the Mexican highlands; others, on the An- dean) some of these nomads learned to cultivate wild grasses and thus began the maize culture which is basic in aboriginal America. As agriculturalists

they became a settled people, learned to make pottery and figurines of clay with a lively realism, and probably tex- tiles. On this base, which is known as the Archaic Cultures, there arose through long periods of time a large number of cultures, several of which reached a high level of attainment by the early centuries of the Christian era. 1 These are the Mayan and Toltec cultures in Middle America, the Chimu, Nazca, and Tiahuanaco cultures in South America.

Mayan Art of the First Empire

I N Middle America the (term fre- quendy used by archaeologists to designate what is now Mexico and Cen- tral America) we find a great variety of geographical and climatic conditions. The country lies in the belt of dry and rainy seasons. Great reaches of arid plateau land, fertile for raising maize and wheat wherever water can be se- cured, rise to heavily forested mountain

1 American chronology is in its infancy, and authorities differ widely. Hence all dates are tentative.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

231

slopes and thence, at some places, to riculturally if man can only clear the

perpetual snow; or they descend to the land and steadily pursue his battle

moist tropical jungles of the coastal against the rank luxuriousness of na-

plains, which are marvelously rich ag- ture. The country is a volcanic region;

ANCIENT ART

[a] Section of a Typical Mayan Building. {Holmes)

the volcanic rock, now coarse and now fine-grained, together with plentiful limestone furnished abundant material both for building and for carving.

In the Maya we find a people who early attained one of the highest levels of aboriginal American culture. In the early centuries of the Christian era they were in possession of the moist low- lands of Guatemala, northern Hon- duras, and southern Mexico, and had already reached a stage of civilization that presupposes a development of cen- turies. Their first and greatest climax, known as the First (or Old) Empire, came between a.d. 450 and 700 at such centers as Copan, Tikal, Palenque, and Quirigua. Then followed a period of chaos, for reasons not yet understood, and a migration of the tribe into the peninsula of Yucatan. The cities of the First Empire began to revert to the jungle.

Though the Maya were an agricul- tural people, their activities were mo- tivated by religious practices. Priests, astronomer-priests, and nobles com- prised an upper class; the mass of the

people were either farmers scattered over the country, visiting the cities only for the festivals and for the markets, or formed a servile class, which must have existed in large numbers to carry out the extensive building projects and to serve the gorgeous ritual. The govern- ment was in fact a theocracy, and the cities were great religious centers where gorgeous ceremonies and the display of magic power overawed the people. The gods, such as the sun god, the wind god, the maize god, and the death god, per- sonified the processes of nature. Some of these gods represented the powers of evil and some the powers of good; they were constantly at war with one an- other. In form these gods combined human, bird, and animal features.

It seems to have been largely in the service of religion that the Maya, in the first centuries of the Christian era, origi- nated a method of reckoning time which became one of the most accurate calen- dars known. They predicted eclipses, measured the solstices and the equi- noxes; and so accurate was their as- tronomical knowledge that they could orient a building in such a fashion that at a certain hour on a certain day the sun’s rays would strike a certain spot. The purpose of this calendar, besides its use for agricultural needs, was to assist the priests in their elaborate sys- tems of religious observance and festi- vals. The invention of the calendar necessitated a system of writing, only the numerical parts of which have been deciphered. Its characters, because of their decorative beauty, are an impor- tant motif in Mayan ornament. One of the astonishing facts about the Maya is that they could carry a Stone Age tech- nique to such levels. Copper was so rare that metal tools, if they existed at all, were negligible. Only stone tools, the hardest made of obsidian or flint, were used for the expert and intricate stone- carving.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART 233

[a] Temple of the Cross. Palenque. Dedicated a.d, 6gs. From a model in the Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn, N.T. {Brooklyn Museum)

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

In a theocratic culture, temple-build- ing is destined to be paramount. So it was with the Maya, though there re- main so-called palaces, which seem to have been used for habitation, perhaps by the priests or the nobles. As for the people, their houses were thatched huts. An abundance of excellent building ma- terial favored the Maya. They had quarries of evenly grained limestone; plenty of weathered stone suitable for making cement and concrete; and huge forests to furnish timber and firewood for the preparation of lime.

The most characteristic building was the pyramid temple (Figs. 233A, 41 ia), a temple standing upon a high pyram-

idal base and approached by a broad flight of steps. The base was a solid mass of concrete faced with stone; the thick walls were concrete faced with stone blocks smoothed on the outer face but left roughly pointed on the inner, to hold more tenaciously in the concrete. On the interior the courses projected inward, forming two corbeled arches that sprang from wooden lintels (Fig. 232A). Rooms so constructed could not be more than about twelve feet wide, but might be of unlimited length. Hence the temples consisted of one or two long, narrow compartments. Where there was one only, it served as the sanctuary; where there were two, the inner served this function and was sometimes di- vided into smaller units. In some build- ings, above the flat roof rose a false

234

ANCIENT ART

[a] Toung Maize God. From Copan. Rhyolite. H. 18 in. c. a.d, 5/5. Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge. {Peabody Museum )

front or a pierced roof crest for deco- ration. The construction of such a build- ing — the quarrying of the stone, the transporting and lifting cf it to its high position — represents a prodigious amount of labor. The stone tools were primitive, and there were no transporta- tion facilities, not even beasts of burden.

A small temple at Palenque illustrates the type (Fig. 233A) . As the First Empire cities were located in a moist, devastating climate where the jungle encroaches overnight, the buildings are in such ruin that models serve best for an understand- ing of the temple. The base consisted of a series of receding terraces, with a stair- way leading to the temple itself. The building was rectangular, with a roof that sloped inward, and was surmounted

by an ornate roof comb. Elaborately costumed figures in relief flanked the doorway; carvings ornamented the slop- ing roof and the roof comb. Instead of being carved in stone, these figures were built up in stucco, the stone at Palenque being too difficult to carve with stone tools. The rough wall was covered with plaster, in which small stones were set to form a framework for the figure. Holes were cut in the wall at intervals, to give a firm hold for this stone skele- ton. On this the plaster was molded; and the final coat of fine stucco was polished and painted so that the sur- face was brilliant and shining. Color, undoubtedly determined by symbolic as well as artistic criteria, was used lavishly, so that the temple must have produced a jewel-like effect against the jungle green.

The temple did not stand alone, but was one of a group of other temples and palaces built about a court. For the Maya appear always to have placed and related their buildings in an orderly system.

Wealth of ornament is already evi- dent in the architecture of the First Empire. Where suitable stone was avail- able, as at Copan and Piedras Negras, it was carved with exuberance and vitality, but with a tendency to fill the space to overflowing. This is seen in the peculiarly Mayan stelae, commemora- tive or calendrical stone shafts, from five to twenty-five feet high, erected in the plazas. Most of them are crowded with carvings — - usually a figure in cere- monial dress, probably some important personage, in high relief, surrounded by hieroglyphs and other motifs in lower relief. The reliefs cover the four sides of the shaft. Sometimes each side is a unit in itself; sometimes the carving is continued from side to side — a device facilitated by the fact that the corners are rounded off. Curvature rather than angularity is inherent in Mayan art.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

235

is all the more profound because of the

monumental simplicity of the form. The [a] Corn Stele. From Vieiras Negras. Lime-

head is a sensitively proportioned oval stone. H. 13 ft. 8th cent. a.d. University volume whose contour is clearly defined Museum, Philadelphia. ( University Mtiseum)

ANCIENT ART

236

[a] Great Dragon or Turtle of Quirigua. Top view. W. 11 % ft. a.d. 795. ( Courtesy of the Ar- chaeological Institute of America)

by the framing hair that sweeps back in repeated curves and falls down by the ear plugs. The delicate play of light and shadow afforded by the broad plane of the forehead and the softly blended features is accentuated by the deeply cut curves of the hair and the counter- curves of the lofty headdress. The eyes are downcast, owing to the fact that the head was meant to be seen from below.

This intensity of inner life combined with an imperturbable aspect is even more dynamically seen in a half-length figure of the Maize God (formerly known as The Singing Girl). The features are more sharply cut into a masklike pat- tern, especially the eyes and the mouth, and the hair is more brusquely treated in comparison with the suavely curving locks of the Maize God of Figure 234A. This treatment of the face, the pose of the body, and the vital intensity of the figure are strongly reminiscent of Far Eastern sculpture, such as the Chinese Kuan-yins and Japanese Kwannons.

[b] Mayan Vase. From Copan. Peabody Museum, Harvard University , Cambridge. {Peabody Museum)

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART 237

[a] Great Dragon or Turtle of Quirigua. Carved stone monolith. Front view. H. 7^ ft. a.e>. 7,95. {Courtesy of the Archaeological Institute of America)

The Mayan potter, like all aboriginal American potters, had no knowledge of the wheel but constructed his pottery by hand»shaping, by coiling, or by the use of a mold. Nor did he know of glaz- ing, but obtained a polish and a certain degree of imperviousness by rubbing. The cylindrical vases of the Maya are

boldly vigorous and richly warm in color: black against a yellow or orange ground, with details of red, brown, and white. Borders of hieroglyphs are fre- quent, as in Figure 236B, in which the chief decorative motif is derived from the quetzal. Again the decoration may be representational and narrative as in Figure 237B, which illustrates the visit of an inferior to his chief.

[b] Drawing from a Mayan Vase, (Joyce, Mexican Archaeology, G. P. Putnam's Sons)

238

ANCIENT ART

[a] Temple of Quetzalcoatl. Teotiltuacan. Detail of sculptured mosaics.

Toltec Art

(about a.e>. 500-1000)

R OUGHLY contemporary with the » First Empire of the Maya was the Toltec civilization on the plateau of the Valley of Mexico, which developed a refined esthetic sensibility and skilled craftsmanship in all the arts. The Tol- tecs were an agricultural people who seem to have attained a cultural climax after a long series of archaic levels that are not as yet understood. They wor- shiped many nature gods, important among whom were the maize god and Quetzalcoatl , 1 a benevolent deity, in form a combination of the quetzal and the coatl, a serpent. In his bird mani-

1 Quetzalcoatl seems to have been a his- torical and legendary personage, a great Toltec king who introduced many useful arts, sciences, and industries, and finally went away, promis- ing to return. ■ ■

festation he appeared to typify the winds and thus had to do with the sky and the four directions; in his serpent manifesta- tion he was connected with water and rain. Sometimes he had the teeth of the jaguar and in his mouth a man’s head.

In the worship of their gods the Tol- tecs practiced human sacrifice. This was practiced by all the tribes of Mexico, for their religion called for it as an obli- gation to the gods, who had sacrificed themselves to create man. The sacri- ficial ceremonies were carried out with elaborate pageantry, to which the great pyramidal temples with their vast courts lent themselves magnificently.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

The great center of the Toltecs was Teotihuacan (“Place of the Gods”), founded about the fifth or sixth cen- tury a.d. and reaching a climax from about the seventh to the tenth century. This great sacred city was carefully laid out in such a way that its pyramid tem- ples, each oriented for ritual by the ac- curate astronomical knowledge of the Toltecs, were all related and united by broad avenues. The largest and most imposing of the group is the Temple of the Sun. Though the temple itself is en- tirely gone, its pyramidal base, made in five tiers with one broad stairway, alter- nately single and double, leading from the base to the temple, must have pro- vided, in its simple monumentality, a contrasting setting for the elaborate pag- eantry of the rites. A smaller temple, the Temple of Quetzalcoatl (Fig. 238A), furnishes the one remaining example of Toltec architectural sculpture. Its ex- cellent preservation is due to burial by subsequent building. The pyramid con- sists of six terraces, each decorated with boldly projecting heads of the feathered serpent surrounded by leaves; these heads alternate with a masklike motif; and the

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

two are connected by highly convention- alized plumes, rattles, and shells carved in much lower relief (Fig. 238A). Traces of color indicate that the parts of the design must have been clearly differ- entiated by this means and that in the brilliant sunshine of this valley the total effect must have been gorgeous indeed.

SUMMARY

Of the ancient American cultures, the Mayan was the first to reach a high level, probably the highest reached in the Americas before the coming of the Europeans. The Maya were a theo- cratic people and, in the service of ritual and agriculture, scientific in that they succeeded in evolving one of the most accurate of calendars and a system of writing. Their cities were chiefly eccle- siastical centers, and though they built some secular buildings, their principal

239

concern was the erection of temples raised on lofty pyramidal bases and dec- orated luxuriantly in reliefs and color — fit settings for their elaborate ritual. Wealth of ornament one discerns also in the commemorative stele and boul- ders, highly conventional in style, dom- inated by curving lines and intricate movement. Sculpture in the round is rare, but when found is infused with an intensity of inner life.

Another Middle American cultural climax was the Toltec. Here also was an agricultural people whose life was dominated by a theocratic government and whose ecclesiastical centers were carefully laid out, and dominated by pyramid temples; but these were less luxuriantly adorned than the Mayan. According to legend, from their plumed- serpent god Quetzalcoatl, they learned to become skilled and refined craftsmen.

See the Bibliography on page 417.

12

SOUTH AMERICAN ART

IN South America, high cultures de- veloped in the Andean region, chiefly in the area from Ecuador to northern Chile. This area, like that of Middle America, presents great con- trasts of geography and climate. Three well-defined belts run north and south, roughly parallel to one another: (1) a narrow coastal plain, where, as in Egypt, a hot desert is intersected by rivers from the highlands that create habitable and prolifically fertile oases; (2) the great Cordillera of the Andes, whose high peaks hem in plateau val- leys with a temperate climate; and (3)

the eastern slopes of the Andes, a hot, humid jungle. Both on the coast and in the highlands, cultures evolved, prob- ably from an archaic base as in Middle America, and perhaps with migrations from the latter. 1 From before the Chris- tian era to about a.d. 600 there floux- ished on the northern coast of Peru the Early Chimu (Muchik or Mochica); on the southern coast, tire Early Nazca;

1 The origin of the South American cultures is a question on which authorities differ widely. For opinions, see George C. Vaillant and Samuel K. Lothrop, The Maya and Their Neighbors, Ap- pleton-Century, 1940.

240

ANCIENT ART

[a] Duck Jar. Early Chimu. Larco Herrera Museum , Trujillo, Peru. ( Larco Herrera Museum)

on the highlands around Lake Titicaca, the Tiahuanaco. About a.d, 600 the Tiahuanaco culture fused with the coastal to form the Tiahuanacan Em- pire, which spread over the Andean and coastal regions and flourished until about a.d. 900.

Early Chimu and Nazca Art

(FIRST CENTURY B.C. TO A.D. 600)

I N South America, on the Peruvian coast lived the Early Chimu (Mo- chica) and the Nazca, the former mak- ers of a lively realistic pottery with strong sculptural feeling, the latter pro- ducing ceramic products of a more col- orful conventional style and textiles of an extraordinary quality both estheti- cally and technically. On the highlands lived the austere Tiahuanaco peoples, great workers in stone and architectural stone sculpture. A mingling of the coastal and highland peoples, brought about by the Tiahuanaeans, produced an art combining elements of both.

[b] Portrait Jar. Early Chimu. H. u\ in. Henna and brick-reds on tan. American Mu- seum of Natural History, New Tor k City. (. American Museum of Natural History)

The Early Chimu, living in one of the fertile valleys, were agriculturalists, but their proximity to the sea made them fishermen also, as the sea motifs on their pottery reveal. Hunters and warriors they were too. Their proud chieftains lived in fine houses in large fortified towns. But as stone was not available, they built of adobe so that only mounds of ruin remain, many of which have not yet been excavated. They seem to have been a vigorous people, dramatic, with a lively interest in the daily activities of life and in the world of nature, which they translated,

SOUTH AMERICAN ART with high imagination and strong sculp-

tural feeling, into clay forms which con- stitute the chief source of our knowledge of the Chimu and their art. As the wheel was unknown to them, this pottery was either coiled or hand-shaped. In fact much of it gives a strong impression of the hand shaping the clay. Figure work predominates. Parrots, owls, ducks, frogs, fish and crabs, a fruiting branch of a plant, the head of a llama, people singly or in groups pursuing various activities — all this wealth of material is adjusted to the needs of a jar. One constant element, almost a mark of Chimu style, is the stirrup handle. The adaptation of animate life — that is, its conventionalization to a globular shape — • is particularly successful with the bird and animal figures, as in the Duck Jar of Figure 240A.

Probably the highest attainment of these sculptor-potters was the portrait jars (Fig. 240B), highly individualized portraits of haughty chieftains or nobles, modeled not only from the angle of rep- resentation but also from that of a fine feeling for clay, and then painted to vivify the impression. The Chimu did not appear to be interested in color as such, for their pottery is rather dull in that respect. All their lively imagination found expression in sculptural form.

The Nazca, on the contrary, though related to the Chimu and perhaps de- rived from them, reveal a very different habit of mind and therefore a different style. The drab pottery of the Chimu, imaginative and highly realistic in its content, gives way to Nazcan simple geometric shapes, decorated in colorful, highly conventional motifs. The globu- lar shape is popular, as is the double spout connected by a bridge. Flat, linear designs derived from plant, animal, and sea life and from gods and demons fol- low the curving surfaces in a freely ex- uberant manner and with a wide range of color: white, yellow, black, violet,

[a] Nazca Jar. Black, white, red, orange, yellow, pink, and brown. Gajfron Collection, Berlin. ( Lehmann )

blue-gray, and intermediate tones on a ground of white, red, or black. (Fig. 241 A)

TEXTILES

In the field of textiles, too, the Nazca reached one of the highest achievements of the aboriginal American. Many ex- amples have been found in graves, pre- served by the dry climate. The women were the weavers, and their materials consisted of cotton for the warp and the wool of the llama and the vicuna for the weft and for embroidery. The articles woven were not objets d’art, but articles of everyday use — pouches, girdles, mantles, tunics. Since their looms were of the most primitive type, they de- pended largely upon skilled fingers to produce an astonishing variety of weaves — tapestry, pile, gauze, minute em- broidery — all worked with an incred- ible fineness which has never been surpassed. The range of hues was rather narrow — red, brown, blue, and green;

ANCIENT ART

242

[A] Peruvian Textile. Slit tapestry weave. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. ( Boston Museum)

but these were used with the greatest subtlety of relationship and variation. Figure 242 a is a border of slit tapestry of extraordinarily fine weave, in which the chief motif is a zoomorphic figure repeated at equal intervals but infinitely varied in its details, as in the arrange- ment of the light and dark strips form- ing the body of the zoomorph. The fine slits not only help to define the color areas clearly but also give the fabric a vibrating texture. Embroidery in wool on a cotton base reached an astonishing quality, both in its rare color harmonies and in its technical accomplishments. This is particularly true of the textiles found at Paracas, north of the Nazca area. As embroidery technique admits the use of the curved line, the motifs are more curvilinear and the variations of tone extraordinary. In a Mantle (Ameri- can Museum of Natural History) the light border strongly contrasts with the dark ground; the repeat pattern of the ground, equally spaced in even rows.

carries the lighter colors into the dark area. This repeat motif, based on a hu- man figure, is never exactly repeated, but filled with such variation in color and tone that the effect is one of ex- ceeding richness. In chromatic richness, the Paracas textiles are among the world’s most notable.

Tiahuanaco Art

(a.d. 600-900)

HPHE starkness of the bleak highland A country around Lake Titicaca presents a different picture from the warm, luxuriant valleys of the coast. Isolated in these mountains, a people were paralleling the development of the coastal cultures until about a.d. 600, when they forced their rule upon the coastal as well as the highland areas from Ecuador to northern Chile. The

i '

- - '• '

JITSI®

SOUTH AMERICAN ART

[a] Monolithic Gateway . Tiahuanaco. L. c. if ft. H. c. 11ft. c a d. Coo-goo. {Chi- cago Natural History Museum and Archive of Hispanic Culture , Library of Congress)

center of this culture was Tiahuanaco, on Lake Titicaca. Though the Tiahua- nacans dominated politically, they fused culturally, and produced an art that partakes of both the starkness of the mountain culture and the warmth and imagination of the coastal culture.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

As the highlands furnished an abun- dance of stone, fine and hard, there de- veloped a race of masons highly skilled in cutting and joining these hard stones. The Gateway at Tiahuanaco (Fig. 243A)

is monolithic, with a doorway cut through it and a sculptured frieze across the top. In the center of the frieze, above the doorway, is the image of Viracocha, the sky god, a short, squat figure standing on a pyramid, facing directly forward and holding spears and weapons in both hands. From his angu-

ANCIENT ART

A similar style of carving in two shal- low planes is found at Chavin in the high- lands of central Peru. The Greater Chavin Stone (Fig. 245A) (several others have been found) gives one the impression of an elaborate conventional pattern. This consists of a central vertical motif, from which radiate diagonal lines terminat- in spirals and serpent a bilateral de-

ing alternately heads, the whole forming sign. Closer study reveals that at the base is a figure in frontal view, short, and built on rectangular forms except for the arms and the legs, which are slightly modeled; the features are so highly conventionalized that it is diffi- cult to identify them; each hand holds a bunch of staves. The panel above this figure is occupied by three masks with decorated protruding tongue and fangs. To see them it is necessary to reverse the illustration. This carving impresses one with its severe symmetry, its angu- larity, and its highly abstract decora- tive quality — decorative, though so much in contrast to the asymmetrical, curving, luxuriant carving of the Maya.

[a] Gold Cylinder . From Lambayeque, Peru. H in. Museum of the American Indian , Heye Foundation , New Fork City. (Museum of the American Indian , Heye Foundation )

POTTERY AND METALWORK

lar face project rays terminating in circles and puma heads. This figure of the god is in high relief and thus stands out prominently against the low-relief border, which consists of rows of figures of condors and winged men, with weapons, running toward the center. A border of frets interspersed with masklike heads ties the design together. Each of the running figures with his weapons forms a square motif that is repeated with precision. Yet the move- ment within the square contributes ac- tion to what would otherwise prove static. Thus a combination of high re- lief and low, of static and dynamic ele- ments, produces, a decorative element that is in keeping with an austere gate- way in an austere setting.

Tiahuanaco pottery presents a com- bination of highland and coastal ele- ments. Large flaring cups show how the luxuriant curvilinear designs of Nazcan ceramics and the realism of the Mochican were affected by the sterner style of the highlands. This is evident in a dish in which is seated a figure whose simplified modeling and conventional decorative motifs produce an effect of startling vividness.

Gold, the lure of later conquerors, was known by these early Peruvians (being found plentifully in the streams or in surface veins) and was used for cups as well as for articles of adornment. On a cylindrical object (Fig. 244A) we see again the motif of the Ckavin Stom, worked in repousse.

SOUTH AMERICAN ART

245

SUMMARY

During the first six centuries of the Christian era three civilizations arose in the Andean region.

The Early Chimu of the northern coastal valleys modeled stirrup-handled pottery jars of great vitality in the form of highly realistic representations of the life around them: animals, birds, human figures and groups, perhaps the finest being the expressive, individualized portrait heads of warriors. Though drably painted the jars often show in- genious adaptations of the subject to the shape and an understanding of clay as a medium.

The Nazca in the coastal valleys to the south produced less realistic, more geometric and decorative pottery, often globular with twin spouts joined by a handle. The colorful painted designs are stylized, fanciful representations of plant, animal, and human forms. Tex- tiles, though produced by primitive means, were their supreme accomplish- ment, and have never been excelled either in the fineness of the weaving or in the rich, imaginative coloring of the embroidered designs.

The highland people of Tiahuanaco are notable for the austere, monumen- tal grandeur of their stone sculpture and architecture. After 600 the Tia- huanacans extended their power till they dom i nated the whole Andean region with the result that their cul- ture fused with the arts of the coast to produce an expression combining elements of both. About 900, when the Tiahuanacan power declined, the coastal peoples re-established their own political and artistic forms.

See the Bibliography on page 420.

[a] Greater Chavin Stone. Carved greenish diorite monolith, H. 6 ft. N ational Museum of Archaeology, Lima.

%

UM>

[a] Ch‘en Jung. Wave and Dragon. Detail of the 36 ft. bamboo-paper Mine Dragon Scroll. Sung Dynasty. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. ( Boston Museum)

MEDIEVAL ART

medieval art

WORLD PANORAMA

IN Europe and the Near East some of the ancient civilizations had run their course — the Egyptian and those of the Tigris-Euphrates Valley. Others • — such as the Greco-Roman and the Iranian - — though they had likewise completed their cycles, lay submerged, but later were to contribute ingredients to new cultures evolving under the energizing forces of the new religions: Christianity and Muhammadanism. After the recognition of Christianity as the state religion of the Roman Empire, Christian art spread its forms over most of the Roman Empire and into Russia, more widely in the Eastern areas than the Western because of the breakdown of the Empire in the West at the hands of the marauding Eurasian invaders. With the rise of Muham- madanism, and the advance of this military missionary faith from Arabia and Egypt as far as India in the East and Spain in the West, a new style of art arose alongside the Christian; and though predominantly assimilative, it spread over this vast area its own characteristic forms. Contacts between Christian and Muhammadan areas were frequent, and motifs, techniques, constructional methods, and stylistic qualities passed between them.

In the Far East, Gupta and Classic India and Sung China were probably the most highly civilized areas in the world. China, under the stimulus of Zen Buddhism, reached a Golden Age in all the arts as it expanded geo- graphically south and west. India also attained one of its highest levels with the renascence of Brahmanism, and expanded into Indo-China and the East Indies. In the thirteenth century the rise and spread of the Mongol Empire from the Pacific to central Europe brought close intercourse between the khans and the Western peoples. This not only broadened the horizon of the Europeans as they learned of the magnificence and the luxuries of the East, but also led to a demand for those luxuries and hence to an increase in trade by land and sea, and of travel to those fabulous countries by such intrepid travelers as Marco Polo. Iran continued, as in ancient times, to be a cross- roads by which Eastern forms came to Europe to find a place in European art. This movement was intensified by the activities of the Crusades.

Still completely isolated, and unknown to Eurasia, were the Americas. In Middle America the second empire of the Maya spread its influence to neighboring areas until it fell under the domination of the Toltecs, who in turn succumbed to the warlike strength of the Aztecs. In South America the Incas absorbed both highlands and coastal areas into an empire that marked a high level of civilization. Between these two areas the Isthmus of Panama seems to have been a link for interchange of influence. North of the Rio Grande, the Pueblos evolved the highest level of culture, though the Hopewell people of the Eastern United States created noteworthy works of art, in some of which appear motifs clearly derived from Middle America.

Two other isolated areas, Africa (except for the northern coast and Egypt) and Oceania, were to influence the modern world profoundly when contacts between them and the Eurasian and American peoples were established.

EARLY CHRISTIAN AND BYZANTINE ART

ABOUT the year a.d. 300 we see l \ Rome still outwardly splendid — a highly organized despotism, inter- nally decayed and externally hard- pressed by foreign barbarians or by cultivated indigenous peoples struggling for self-expression. Meanwhile the Chris- tian Church, growing at first in se- cret, and strengthened by persecution, emerged victorious as the real successor of Rome. Constantine, by changing the capital in a.d. 330 to Byzantium, which he renamed Constantinople, cut the Empire into two rather sharply divided parts, the East and the West. Let us note a few of the important movements in each.

The lands about the eastern Mediter- ranean had always been Hellenic rather than Roman at heart. In many places the traditions of the older civilizations — those of Egypt and of Babylonia- Assyria, for example — were still dom- inant. Long before Christianity became officially the Roman state religion, vig- orous Christian communities began to

flourish in Persia, Egypt, Asia Minor, and in Syria, that great highway of war, commerce, and ideas. Under the stimu- lus of the new faith, brilliant creative work began in church-building and was Unhampered by the weakening Roman power. But Constantinople, because of its wealth and prestige, became the point at which the various Eastern in- fluences coalesced with the Hellenic and the Roman to form what is known as Byzantine art, or, as it has well been called, the Christian art of the East. In the reign of Justinian (a.d. 527-565) this art reached its first climax under the patronage of the Church and the court. But some of the forces that were shaping it — the prejudice of the early Christian against everything pagan and of the Semitic peoples against the repre- sentation of sacred personages; the in- fluence of Islam 1 ; and the impersonal, mystic attitude of the East — these forces inevitably led to the iconoclastic (image-destroying) controversy (a.d.

1 See Chapter 15.

726-824), which in denouncing the use of images guided creative impulses into the channels of rich ornamentation based upon floral and geometric motifs, and into a dependence upon richness of color and texture. But a compromise led, under Basil I and his successors, to a second climax of Byzantine art, whose purpose was “to render vis- ible the mysteries of the supra-natural world. ... If God might be painted after all, not only in innocence and majesty but in the commonplace and degradation of earthly life, then paint- ing should be worthy and attempt the highest.” 1 Hence arose “a mystical re- nunciation of the transient phenomena of earth for the universal in-being Real- ity — enshrined in a fixed iconography whose rigid apportionment of subject and space alone could put intelligible bounds to so immeasureable an aim.” 2

The Western half of the Roman Em- pire presented a different picture. For centuries the barbarians had been threatening the Rhine and Danube frontiers, and the decaying government could no longer hold out against the Strong vitality of the North. On all sides the uncouth barbarians poured in, fi- nally reaching Rome; and though they may have had some reverence for the magnificence they saw, with no capac- ity for appreciation they cared little about maintaining it. The Colosseum was merely a mine from the stones of which could be drilled out the iron clamp to tip the spear of a Goth. The one power to hold firm was the Church, the ear- nestness and zeal of whose leaders, such as Saint Augustine and Saint Gregory, laid the foundations, for its supremacy in the Middle Ages.

Although the history of the two halves of the Roman Empire continued so dif-

1 Brdiier, Mart chrMkn; quoted by Robert Byron and David Talbot Rice, The Birth of Western Painting> Knopf, 1931, p. 15.

2 Ibid.

ferently, there were close relations be- tween them. The establishment of the exarchate at Ravenna brought a flow of Byzantine work westward. Byzantine builders came to Italy at the summons of patrons whose own country was no longer producing trained artists. The iconoclastic outbreak drove artists to Italy to seek employment; and pilgrims and traders brought with them such portable objects as enamels, ivories, manuscripts, and textiles.

ARCHITECTURE

Rome, notwithstanding its pitiable condition, 3 offered ample incentive for building. Here were the sacred places, the sites of martyrdom and burial of saints. Hither came pilgrims from all Christendom, despite hazardous travel — throngs so great that men and women were trodden under foot. Ample build- ing material was at hand, to be had for the taking - — the finely cut stones, columns, and marble veneers of the huge Roman structures. With the emergence of Christianity from secrecy we ob- serve a type of church established — the basilica — which, though known in the East, 4 became predominant in Italy.

Figure 251 a illustrates the plan of the basilica, a rectangular building en- tered through an open colonnaded court, the atrium (f), one side of which forms the narthex or vestibule (e); the body of the church consists of a nave (a), aisles (b), an apse (d), and a trans- verse aisle or transept (c) inserted be- tween the nave and the apse and slightly projecting beyond the walls, making the plan T-shaped. Figure 338AI is simpler, with single aisles and no transept, but shows the place of

3 See Grant Showerman, Eternal Rome, ne-w ed., Yale University Press, 1925, for a good description.

4 Particularly in Syria. See PI. C. Butler and E. B. Smith, Early Churches in Syria, Princeton University Press, 1929.

[a] Plan and Section of Section of Old St. Peter’s , Rome. Restored. W. c. 2x5 ft. a.d. 336. Destroyed to make way for the present cathedral, a. nave; b. aisles; c. transverse aisle; d. apse; e. narthex; f. atrium.

the altar immediately in front of the dows. Both the nave and the aisles of apse, and the choir with two pulpits such a basilica carried wooden roofs, occupying about half of the nave. The but the apse was usually vaulted. The nave walls rest on columns (Fig. 251 a) origin of the basilica is difficult to deter-

and rise higher than the side walls, mine. In many respects it is close to the

forming a clerestory for lighting (Figs. classical basilica, the name of which it

252 a, 2 55 a) and leaving wall space bears; yet certain elements, such as the

between the colonnade and the win- atrium and the transverse aisle, seem

[a] Santa Maria in Cosmedin. Rome, Late 8 th cent. ( Anderson )

to be derived from the Roman private house, where the early Christian con- gregations met in secret and whose whole arrangement suited the liturgical needs of the service.

Santa Maria in Cosmedin well illustrates a modest basilica. 1 Its plain exterior shows an unadorned narthex, above

1 Built in the sixth century a.d.; enlarged in the eighth century; restored in the twelfth. The bell tower (campanile) is Romanesque. The church has frequently been remodeled, notably in the late .Renaissance, when a Renaissance facade was added; it was restored in 1894-99 to its eighth- and twelfth-century form. This continuous remodeling of churches, especially in Rome, each in the style of the period of the remodeling, makes many churches a confus- ing composite of early Christian, Romanesque, Renaissance, and Baroque, and leaves but few in the style in which they were originally built.

For a sensitive understanding of the formal relationships in Santa Maria in Cosmedin see Lc Corbusier, Towards a New Architecture, pp. 160 ff.

which rises the clerestory of the nave. The interior (Fig. 252A) is a rectangular space, so designed that interest focuses on the altar standing in high relief against the rich mosaics of the apse. The columns supporting the walls are of different sizes and designs, and well illustrate the practice of securing ma- terial from the structures of pagan Rome. Should one ruin fail to supply enough columns for a basilica, another would be stripped of its material, ap- parently with little concern for the matching of the columns. It was even the practice to prop up short columns to the required height with additional bases. Thence also were procured the fine marbles of the choir rail, pulpits, and floor for this church. The choir (for the clergy who participated in the serv- ice), with its two flanking pulpits, one for the reading of the Gospels and one

EARLY CHRISTIAN AND BYZANTINE ART

[a] St. Paul’s Outside the Walls. Rome. Founded a.d. 386; rebuilt after the fire of 1823, which destroyed almost all except the transept. {Anderson)

for the Epistles, occupied a considerable part of the nave (see also Fig. 338A1), The walls were originally covered with frescoes and the simple wooden roof was brightly painted. A large and elab- orate basilica is that of St. Paul’s Outside the Walls (Fig. 253A) , built over the tomb of Saint Paul, very resplendent in col- ored marbles, gilded coffered ceiling, and mosaics.

The interior of a basilica was colorful. Of the many mediums used to obtain color, mosaic transcended all others. By means of mosaic the Byzantine builders clothed the surfaces of the apse and often of the walls too, if funds permitted, with mural decoration of unsurpassed splendor, equally satisfactory for deco- rating a dim interior and for conveying the ideas of the Christian faith. Its forms are conventional because of the nature of the medium, and symbolic be- cause of die nature of the ideas ex-

pressed. By mosaic is meant a design worked out by means of small pieces of colored glass or stone, called tesserae , set in cement. It is clear that to carry out a design in this medium, the artist must make the drawing so simple that the form becomes almost a flat pattern, with sharp contours and little light and shade. It affords ample opportunity, however, for broad massing of color and for deep glowing tones, especially when gold is used liberally either as a background for the figures or as a back- ing for the tesserae (Figs. 255 a and b, 256A, 257A, 258A).

As the basilicas in Rome have been so repaired and remodeled that few give an adequate picture of their original appearance, those at Ravenna will serve to illustrate how relatively barren, yet impressively frank and rugged, was the exterior of the early basilica (Fig. 254A) ; relatively, in contrast to the interior

[a] Sant’ Apollinare in Classe. Ravenna, a.d. 534-538. ( Alinari )

(Fig, 255A and b), where the half-light from translucent marble panels and per- forated marble windows discloses rich colors, gold, carvings, and stately hier- atic figures. Here is the atmosphere of another world, of enfolding peaceful- ness and mystic calm. With symbolism prominent in the mental outlook of the age, one wonders whether the early Christian thus symbolized the contrast between the hard externals of his life and the beauty of the inner spirit.

Early Christian art, both in the East and in the West, was an art of symbols. Prominent among Christian symbols are: the fish, not only an acrostic but a symbol of water, baptism, and in general of the faith; the ship (Latin navis, whence “nave”), symbol of the Church in which the faithful were car- ried over the sea of life; the vine, sym- bol of Christ; sheep, especially with the shepherd; the stag, the soul thirst- ing for baptism; and the peacock, em- blem of immortality — an illustration of how the early Christians infused pagan symbols (the peacock was the bird of Juno) with new meaning. Thus symbols constitute a language; and as they tend to isolate and emphasize some dominant element of the person or thing symbolized, they tend in their form toward the highly generalized and the abstract, and thus are more than likely to be peculiarly decorative as well as expressive of intense inner sig- nificance.

The iconography of early Christian art — that is, what is represented and how and where — was strictly regulated by the Church. Old Testament person- ages and scenes were plentiful: the patriarchs and the kings, the Genesis stories, the prophets. New Testament scenes focused on the childhood and the atoning life and death of Christ: the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Flight into Egypt, the Adoration of the Magi, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, the Ascension, episodes which were cele* brated in the festivals of the Church: Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter.

[a] Sant’ Apollinare in Classe. Ravenna. (Ande

The Transfiguration. Mosaic of the apse of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe , Ravenna.

Scenes from the public life of Christ were also used — • among others, the Baptism, the Temptation, the Last Supper — as well as stories from the lives of the saints. For example, in the apse of San? Apollinare in Classe is a representation of the Transfiguration (Fig. 255B). The purpose is to tell the story symbolically in the language of conventions established by the Church and at the same time to decorate the surface of the apse. Against a gold ground is a large blue medallion with a jeweled cross, symbol of Christ. Just above, the hand of God and the dove issue from the clouds on an axis with the cross (the three together symbol- izing the Trinity). On each side in the clouds appear the figures of Moses and Elias; below are three sheep, the three

Disciples who accompanied Christ to the foot of the mountain. Beneath, in the midst of green fields with trees, flowers, and birds, stands Saint Apolli- naris with uplifted arms, accompanied by twelve sheep symbolizing the twelve Apostles and forming, as they march in regular file across the apse, a wonderfully decorative base. Thus in a language that was understood by all Christians the story is told, and the saint to whom the church is dedicated is brought before the observer. And at the same time the resplendence of the wall as abstract design intensifies the emotional reaction to the scene and hence its significance.

In Sant" Apollinare JVuovo (Fig. 25 7A) the side walls above the columns glow with mosaic. Here a procession of

[a] Sant’ Apollinare Mom, Nave wall with mosaic decorations. Ravenna. 6 th cent. {Alinan)

saints, stately and hieratic, moves in quiet rhythm toward the altar. Each saint, richly dressed and carrying a crown, stands isolated, separated from the next by a palm tree. Thus two themes interweave to carry the move- ment. Note that though the figures and the trees at first glance seem identical, they contain an infinite number of vari- ations on the main theme. Here is an art of line and subdued mellow color which is highly successful not only as mural decoration but as an evocation of a mystic mood.

At Ravenna we meet the other im- portant type of church building, — the type commonly called central — which, though not unknown in Rome, 1 seemed

1 Santa Costanza and San Stefano Rotondo are examples.

less at home there than it did m Ravenna, which had direct connections with the East, where this type of build- ing reached its highest development. A simple form we find in the Mausoleum ofGallaPlacidia (Figs. 258Aand b, which is built in the form of a Greek cross, with a dome over the intersection of the two arms that is enclosed and con- cealed from the exterior view by a low rectangular tower. The building is of the plainest brick construction and unadorned except for the blind cades and dentils along the cornices. But stepping within, we find our- selves enveloped in mellow light and quietly rich color. Above the yellow- marble paneling blue-ground mosaics sheathe the entire surface, deep-toned blues with accents here and there of

[b] San Vitale {in the middle background) and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia (in the fore- ground) . Ravenna . (Alin nari)

other hues and with a restrained use of gold. The same incredibly rich interior we find in a church of the central type, San Vitale (Figs. 256A, 258B). The brick construction, presenting an almost barnlike appearance on the outside, is entirely concealed on the in- side by marbles and glowing mosaics.

This central type reaches a climax in the East, specifically in Santa Sophia , or Hagia Sophia, Church of the Holy Wisdom, in Constantinople (Fig. 259A). The ground plan (Fig. 262A), however, re- veals some features of the basilica. Though almost square, it contains a nave, with side aisles separated from it by columns, and is roofed with a combination of dome and half-domes. An apse, a double narthex, and an atrium complete the plan. 1 * 3 - The ex-

1 The minarets and heterogeneous buildings about the base were added by the Muslims when

they converted the church into a mosque after the capture of Constantinople hi 1453. The

atrium no longer exists.

[a] Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ra- venna, c. a.d. 450. Floors and walls of marble; vaults , lunettes, drum , and cupola covered with blue ground mosaic . (Anderson)

[a] Santa ( Hagia ) Sophia. Istanbul a.d. 532-537. ( Publishers ’ Photo Service)

terior view shows a compact mass of brick, of great solidity at the corners, covered with a low lead-covered dome and half-domes. But entering (Fig. 26 1 a), one stands amazed at the won- derful spaciousness, obtained through the simple but daring design of the building, which consists of an arrange- ment of arches and half-domes moving rhythmically, with increasing size and volume until they unite in the all- embracing dome, which seems to rest easily and lightly over the great space. Space is the first impression, then sump- tuousness. The richest materials 1 of all kinds were used — rare marbles of all

1 The mosaics, which were largely painted over by the Muslims, are how being uncovered. See Thomas Whittemore, The Mosaics of St. Sophia at Istanbul, Oxford University Press, 1933.

colors and literally acres of gold-ground mosaics — yet every detail is subordi- nate to the powerful space-organization. Listen to the poem of Paulus Silentiarius, court poet of Justinian, written to commemorate the dedication of the church, “About the center of the church, by the eastern and wes- tern half-circles, stand four mighty piers of stone, and from them spring great arches like the bow of Iris, four in all; and, as they rise slowly in the air, each separates from the other to which it was at first joined, and the spaces between them are filled with wondrous skill, for curved walls touch the arches on either side and spread over until they all unite above them. ... The base of the dome is strongly fixed upon the great arches . . . while

[a] Two methods of erecting a dome over a square area. a. a dome on pendentives; b. a dome on squinches. In pendentive construction , the Byzantine solution of the problem, the dome rests upon what is in effect a second and larger dome from which segments have been sliced , to form the four arches bounding the square and to receive the base of the upper dome. By transferring the weight to piers rather than to the wall itself pendentive construction enabled the builder to secure a lofty , unobstructed interior space (Fig. 261 a). In squinch construction , the solution favored by the Muhammadan builders, the dome rests upon an octagon formed by building arches (or corbeling or lintels) across the four corners of the square. Squinches were frequently ornamented with stalactites and colored tiles (Fig. 303A).

above, the dome covers the church like the radiant heavens. . . .

“Who shall describe the fields of marble gathered on the pavement and lofty walls of the church? Fresh green from Carystus, and many-colored Phrygian stone of rose and white, or deep red and silver; porphyry pow- dered with bright spots; emerald-green from Sparta, and I assian marble with waving veins of blood-red and white; streaked red stone from Lydia, and crocus-colored marble from the hills of the Moors, and Celtic stone, like milk poured out on glittering black; the precious onyx like as if gold were shin- ing through it, and the fresh green from the land of Atrax, in mingled contrast of shining surfaces.

“The mason also has fitted together thin pieces of marble figuring inter- twining tendrils bearing fruit and flow- ers, with here and there a bird sitting on the twigs. Such ornament as this surrounds the church above the col- umns. The capitals are carved with the barbed points of graceful acanthus all gilt; but the vaulting is covered over with many a little square of gold, from which the rays stream down and strike the eyes so that men can scarcely bear to look.” 1

The decoration of Santa Sophia, how- ever, is by no means merely abstract. It is filled with meaning. Tb^e charac- ters or episodes move in hieratic suc-

1 W. R. Lethaby, “Santa Sophia, Constanti- nople,” Architectural Review, April, 1905, p. 122.

[a] Santa ( Hagia ) So- phia. {Drawing by J. B. Fulton in the Architec- tural Review)

masonry that we noticed at the ex- terior corners. For the dome of Sa?ila Sophia differs from that of the Pantheon structurally in that its load is concen- trated at four piers rather than dis- tributed along a circular wall. The triangular segments that carry the load to the piers are known as pendentives and a dome so constructed is called a dome on pendentives (Figs. s>6oa, gAe). This structural method solved the problem of erecting a perfect dome over a square area and of keeping the space free of load-carrying walls; or, in other words, of concentrating the load at the fewest possible points, thus creating a largely unbroken interior space. Though the origin of this solution of the structural

cession from the more human scenes on earth, scenes relating to the life of the Virgin and of Christ, through the fig- ures of angels, saints, and prophets on the walls, to the four cherubim in the pendentives, and finally to the Panto- crator, the Ruler of the Universe, in the crown of the dome: “Know and behold that I am.” Thus the movement of lines and volumes is paralleled by a literary movement of ever-increasing sanctity and awe culminating in the symbol of the heart and mystery of the Christian faith.

The dome, as has been said, appears to rest lightly and without effort, yet we know that it exerts a tremendous weight, which is met by the massive

[a] Santa ( Hagia ) So- phia, Istanbul. Section and plan. The atrium, origi- nally built in front of the church , no longer exists and is not shown in this draw- ing.

problem is of uncertain date and place, it appears to have been the result of many experiments in vaulting by the builders of the Near East and to have been passed on by them to the West, where we meet it in St. Mark's in Venice, in the Romanesque churches of southern France, In the domed cathedrals of the Renaissance, such as St. Peter's, and in many domed build- ings of modern times.

The stone carvings in Santa Sophia though often based upon the acanthus and other classical motifs (Fig. 263 a), differ from the classical in their insist- ence upon the surface which they decorate (contrast Figure 157A). This type of carving is obviously of Eastern origin, as is apparent in the Mshatta Frieze (Fig. 263B). Richly carved mold-

ings finish the edges of a long border that is decorated with a zigzag and rosettes, which, together with the en- tire background, are luxuriantly carved with acanthus and vine scrolls in which are interwoven vases, animals, centaurs, and other fantastic beings. Here, as in Santa Sophia , the carving is done by drilling into the background, and leav- ing the original surface cut into a flat pattern, rather than by modeling with the chisel, leaving an uneven relief sur- face, as did the Greeks and the Romans. Zigzag and rosettes add vitality and rhythm to the delicate allover pattern.

Stone-carving played a large part in early Christian and Byzantine orna- ment, and was applied to capitals, screens, railings, and pulpits. Byzantine capitals (Figs.. 264A* 256A) appear to be derived from the classical Corinthian type, though they afford a great variety of detail. From the square abacus, the carver gradually merged his stone into the circular shape of the column and covered the surface with carvings — the basket type, so called because of its basketlike interlacings; the melon type, in which the stone is cut in ridges like those of a melon; or that with the inter- laced-circle motif which is so frequently found in medieval ornament. An en- tirely new feature, however, is the im- post block, of much the same shape as the capital itself, inserted between the abacus and the springing of the arch. The purpose of this is not quite clear. It may have been to obtain greater height, or to bring the weight of the arches directly upon the shaft rather than on the outer edge of the abacus. Sometimes the impost block was richly carved; sometimes it simply bore a monogram (Fig. 264A) ; and sometimes it was omitted, as in Santa Sophia (Fig. 263A) . The stone railings afforded a large area for decoration. They were carved with patterns very much like those on the capitals; or with animals and birds in a balanced bilateral arrangement — a scheme of decoration that probably originated in the Near East and found great favor in all the arts.

The central type of church on the Gi'eek-cross plan continued, modified, in the second Golden Age of Byzantine art (Fig. 264B). The angles of the arms

[b] Frieze from Mshatta , a Palace in the Syrian Desert. H. 15 ft. 4th~6th cent. a.d. Berlin. {Berlin Museum )

[a] Byzantine Capitals. San Vitale , Ravenna. ( Alinari )

[b] Plan of a Byzantine Church of the Second Golden Age. North Church, S. Saviour Pantocrator i Istanbul. Early XII cent. Com- pare with Fig. 274Aa.

were filled in and frequently covered with domes; the domes themselves be- came more conspicuous by being lifted up on high drums (Fig. 265A) . External decoration found a place, in the form of patterned brickwork, sometimes polychrome, as well as in carvings. On the interior, colored marbles and mo- saics or frescoes covered the walls (Fig. 266a). Even more strict now was the control over the monographic scheme, the guides or manuals prescribing in detail the place of each subject, the composition, and the forms, even to the detail of the color of the Virgin’s hair. Hence arose the similarity of type and composition seen in all Byzantine painting. Such a procedure precluded any study of nature and insisted upon continual copying and recopying until the figures were so fixed in the mind that they could easily be reproduced from memory. In other words, the painters were using a language under- stood by all and at the same time ex- traordinarily effective in its austere splendor.

[a] Church at Daphne , Greece. Late nth cent. ( Alinari )

Besides the colored marbles, mosaics, and frescoes, many other features con- tributed to the richness of a Byzantine church interior: the iconostasis 1 with its elaborate decoration and colorful icons, the gold, ivory, and enameled vessels, and the rich stuffs of the vest- ments. When we see all these in the dim light of candles and through clouds of incense, we feel that the Byzantine artists did not fall short of their ob- jective: “to render visible the mysteries of the supra-natural world.”

St. Mark's in Venice, with its many domes, is an example of this type in Italy, for there was a close connection between Venice and the Near East, From Alexandria the body of Saint Mark, patron saint of Venice, was

1 The panel or partition with doors and tiers of icons (whence the name) found in Eastern (Orthodox) Catholic Churches, which separates the sanctuary from the nave. Only the clergy may enter the sanctuary.

brought secretly to the city, and the church was founded to house the relic. Marbles, mosaics, carvings, and the famous Pala d’Oro (Altar of Gold) ■ the retable of the high altar, a magnifi- cent example of Byzantine gold work rich with enamels and jewels - — make the interior one of great splendor. Many of the materials for the church were brought from the East, including the four bronze horses above the main portal.

PAINTING

The function of the painter in the early Christian and the Byzantine world was to decorate the walls of the churches with mosaics and frescoes, to paint panels for the iconostases of private chapels and miniatures to illus- trate books. The early paintings are strongly Hellenistic or Roman. Before the emergence of the Church from

[A] Church of the Monastery of Xeno - phontos, Mt. Athos, showing frescoes, i ith cent. {Millet, Monuments de P Athos)

secrecy, the early Christians decorated the walls of the catacombs with fres- coes such as the vine, which is an echo of the carved floral pattern so common in Roman ornamentation and was a favorite Christian theme because of the frequent symbolic use of the vine in the New Testament. They also used figures, such as those representing brotherly love that are close to the Pompeian frescoes of Cupids and Psyches in the House of the Vetiii. Thus there was no break with the classical tradition bn the part of those who forsook the pagan faith; the early Christian painter merely gave the traditional forms new meaning. Among the mosaics, the apse of Santa Pudenziana (Rome) of the late fourth century well illustrates the Hellenistic phase. Among the paint-

ings, the Joshua Roll 1 (Fig. 267a) re- produces a detail in which Joshua, near the walls of Jericho, is prostr ating himself before the angel; in the lower right-hand corner is a female figure crowned with a tower, the personifica- tion of the city. Though the subject is Christian, the method of expression is Hellenic — the personification of the city, the naturalism of the figures, the way in which they fit into the land- scape, and the perspective in the archi- tecture. But soon a change occurred, a trend away from Greco-Roman nat- uralism toward a conventional, highly abstract expression. In the Good Shep- herd mosaic in the Tomb of Galla Placidia the landscape is flattening out, though there is still some depth and some use of shadow in the rocks and the sheep to indicate volume. The complete reduction into one plane and to ab- stract form we find in the mosaics of the apse of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe (Fig. 255B), and in the Theodora and Justinian portrait groups in San Vitale. In these mosaics the figures are thor- oughly noncorporeal, are gorgeous symbols of bodies, and are highly decorative because of their very flat- ness.

The effect of the iconoclastic con- troversy and the compromise that fol- lowed it has already been noted. A rigid iconography; materials rich in color, texture, and gold; impersonal forms far removed from an illusion of

1 This manuscript was originally a continu- ous roll 32 feet long and 1 foot wide, with pen- and-ink and color illustrations of the Hebrew conquest of the Promised Land, which occupy most of the space, interspersed with the text in Greek. It has now been cut into sections and mounted for preservation. The manuscript be- longs to the period when the long roll used by Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans was being superseded by the codex — a book made of separate pages bound together, the usual modem method. The change was probably due to prac- tical considerations, since passages can be found much more readily in this form.

[a] Joshua before the Walls of Jericho. Detail from the Joshua RolL fh~6th cent. a.d. Vatican, Rome. (Munoz)

the actual world; abstract representa- tions of this world and symbols of an- other world — all these combined to produce mosaics and frescoes which were monumentally austere but quite definite in their objective. “The pic- tures have the same object as the liturgy; they possess the same sacra- mental character and form the requi- site setting for the mystery of the Eucharist.” 1

Mosaic 2 met perfectly the Byzantine requirements of splendor of effect, but was costly. Fresco, it is often suggested, was used when economic conditions demanded a less expensive substitute.

1 Br6hier, Dart chretien, quoted by Byron and Talbot Rice, op. cit.

2 Daphnes in Greece (eleventh century), Palermo in Sicily (twelfth century), Kahrie Djami in Istanbul (fifteenth century) are ex-

amples of mosaics.

Whatever the reason, there developed a great school of Byzantine painting that paralleled the mosaics, both of which were strongly affected by a re- vival of the study of Plato and of Greek humanism in general. Forms became less austere, more human; otherworld- liness partook somewhat of this earth. For three centuries, from the thirteenth to the fifteenth, the Byzantine painters covered the walls of the churches and monasteries of Greece with frescoes in which the forms, though humanized, are still abstract, built up of light and color. 3 In the Lamentation over the Body of Christ (Fig. 268a) a dramatic subject is expressed with emotional in- tensity through “a tempestuous rhythm of light and dark.” The faces, the gar-

3 For a detailed exposition see Byron and Talbot Rice, op. cit.

[a] Pieta {Lamentation over the Body of Christ ) . Fresco . Xenophontos, Mt. Athos. 1544. {Millet)

ments, the body of Christ, and the rocks are constructed into various patterns of light and dark, sharply darting areas of light against dark, a contrast em- phasized by the juxtaposition of com- plementary hues; and these individual patterns are organized into long sweep- ing curves and sharp angles.

STONE-CARVING AND IVORY-CARVING

Monumental sculpture was produced only to a very limited extent in early Christian art, because the statue in the round was even more closely akin than painting to the graven images of the pagan. In a rare example, the Good Shepherd of the Lateran Mu- seum (Rome), we recognize an archaic Greek motif, imbued with a new sig-

[b] Christ Crowning Romanics and Eu- docia, Rulers at Constantinople. 1068-71, Ivory. Bibliotheque Rationale, Paris.

nificance. This again is a striking ex- ample of the continuity of the old tradition.

One of the chief expressions of sculp- ture we find in the sarcophagi. In some the surface is entirely covered with reliefs representing scenes from the Old and New Testaments, crowded together one upon another for the pur- pose of narration, with little regard for design, a continuity again of Roman third-century style, and the use of clas- sical figures, to express Christian ideas.

Another style is represented by the Sarcophagus of Theodore (Fig. 269A) . Here there is no crowded relief, in fact no figures, but a piece of beautiful decora- tion composed of symbols, each of which by itself and in conjunction with the others carries a clear, definite mes- sage. In the center of the side is the

[a] Sarcophagus of Theodore, yth cent. a.d. Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna. (Alinari)

sacred monogram 1 in a circle, facing which are two peacocks, symbols of eternity. Behind them are scrolls of fruiting vines and birds; on the lid are the inscription and three wreaths enclos- ing sacred monograms; carved mold- ings frame the design.

The ivory-carver was important, not only for the intrinsic quality of his work but also because his craft carried on the tradition of sculpture until its emergence as a major art, hundreds of years later, about the portals of the churches. The carved figure followed at first the general idiom of the Hel- lenic style. But Hellenic naturalism soon yielded to Eastern influence. This is very pronounced in the so-called Throne of Maximian (Fig, 2 70 a), an epis- copal chair covered with panels of

1 This monogram consists of the first two letters in the Greek name of Christ, chi and rho; in the side angles formed by the chi are the Greek letters alpha and omega, frequently used to symbolize the divinity of Christ.

richly carved ivory. On the front are five niches, containing figures of Saint John the Baptist and four Apostles which have markedly individual char- acteristics, vary in pose and drapery, and appear to have been studied from nature. The borders above and below, however — with the monogram, the spiraling vines which enclose figures of peacocks and various animals, and (in the lower panel) the rampant lions flanking a central vase from which issue vines interspersed with animals — recall in their flat patternlike forms against a dark ground the stone carv- ings of Mskatta (Fig. 2631?) and of Santa Sophia (Fig. 263 a).

The iconoclastic controversy affected ivory-carving much as it did the other branches of art. The trend was from naturalism to austere conventionaliza- tion, then to a modified naturalism. The last stage we see in Christ Crowning Romanus arid Eudocia (Fig. 268 b ), In the center, Christ, with the halo of

[a] Bishop's Chair , Called the “ Throne of MaximianT Wood , inlaid with ivory panels and borders. 6 th cent. a.d. Archiepiscopal Palace , Ravenna. {Anderson)

divinity, elevated on a dome-shaped pedestal fringed with windows like the dome of Santa Sophia , is placing crowns upon the heads of the emperor and the empress, who by their gestures ac- knowledge His sovereignty. The royal pair are dressed in garments of rich stuff, which form a flat pattern in con- trast to the simple unadorned robe of Christ that falls in seminaturalistic folds with long unbroken lines. The group is fitted with acute sensitiveness into the shape with its oval top, a theme repeated insistently along the vertical axis in the halo and the circles of the pedestal, and in the pedestal and in the lower border

interweaving with the square theme seen in the garments. Insistent verticals balance equally insistent horizontals; roughly textured areas act as a foil to smooth. Everywhere is a balance of components, viewed with even greater clarity when seen in the original color. For ivories could not remain uncolored in a total cultural expression that was so colorful. In this ivory, then, one finds a particular flavor of style com- pounded of the austerity of the early Byzantine and the naturalism of the Hellenic,

ENAMELS AND TEXTILES

Great demands were made upon craftsmen in this period by the lux- urious courts of the East and by the Church. Both needed fine fabrics for costumes and for hangings; jeweled ornaments; books, which, to suit cur- rent tastes, might be written in gold letters upon purple-tinted vellum or decorated with bright miniatures on gold grounds, and bound in gold, ivory, enamel, and jewels; vessels for the service, 1 which must be of the finest material and workmanship to be worthy of the Church.

A craft to contribute color and sumptuousness was that of the enam- eler. Most of the Byzantine enamels are of the cloisonne type. Because of the precious material used and the long, tedious process, the enamels were small and were used chiefly to adorn larger objects (Fig. 27 ib). To an even greater extent than the mosaic-worker, the enameler must reduce his design to its simplest terms, for the beauty of the finished product is dependent upon its line, pattern, color, and texture. To

1 See W. R. Lethaby and Harold Swainson, The Church of Sancta Sophia, at Constantinople, Macmillan, 1894, for a description of the great quantities of sumptuous vessels used in this church.

[a] Saint Peter. Enamel and gold plaque. JD. 4. in. 10th cent. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New Tork City. (. Metropolitan Mu- seum)

attempt to represent the human figure in so difficult a medium is daring; for the technique requires not only the utmost economy of line but, even within that, the greatest precision in placing the cloisons — a slight deviation in the face, for example, would bring about a ludicrous expression. Yet the Byzan- tine craftsman did net hesitate, as is seen in the plaque representing Saint Peter (Fig. 271 a), in which a surprising amount of character has been ex- pressed in the face framed by the white hair and beard. Geometric or more abstract design, however, emphasizing as it does the massing of color and tex- ture, was usually found more suitable to this medium. These enamels are so satisfactory because the Byzantine craftsman in enamel, as in mosaic, never overstepped the severe laws that govern the technique.

The application of enamel plaques to larger objects is illustrated by a chalice (Fig. 27 ib) made of sardonyx, mounted in silver and decorated with enamels, gilt, and pearls — an illus-

[b] Chalice, nth cent. Treasury of St. Mark’s , Venice. {Alinari)

(ration of the sumptuousness of the age.

Weaving also was an important art in early Christian times, both for the quality of its products and for its in- fluence on the arts of western Europe. In the early centuries of the Christian era, the Coptic textiles of Egypt show patterns in wool upon linen, sometimes woven directly in the garment or hang- ing, and sometimes on borders or medallions to be appliqued. In Figure 2 72 a, the design is made up of a vine scroll with leaves and fruit — - at which birds are pecking — on a black ground. In both plant and bird forms there is a fine underlying observation of nature; yet all the forms have been subordi- nated to the decorative scheme, so that the birds, the leaves, and the grapes have been flattened out, simplified, and so massed that they are splendidly adapted to fill without crowding the spaces made by the undulating wave line of the stem.

[a] Coptic Textile. Linen , with tapestry weaving in colored wools on black. W. in. 4th or yth cent. a.d. Victoria and Albert Museum , London. ( Victoria and Albert Museum )

Silk fabrics, however, were the most important textile product of the East and were used for garments, hangings, vestments, and furnishings; and as wrappings for the dead and for the bones and other relics of numerous saints, which must be shrouded in the finest material procurable. For several centuries before the time of Justinian, Persia had held a monopoly of the silk industry, controlling not only the manu- facture of these fabrics but their sale as well. Because of this monopoly in the trade of an article much desired by the wealthy Byzantines, Justinian intro- duced the industry into the Empire, with the help of two monks, so the story goes, who smuggled the eggs of the silkworm out of China in hollow staves. A hunting scene is frequently found on these stuffs and is evidently of Persian origin (Fig. 2 73 a). The de- sign is a medallion repeat pattern within which hunters and game offer materials for a symmetrical composi- tion of flat decorative units. In all the surviving textiles of the Byzantine period the pattern reveals its salutary dependence upon the basic technique of any textile — the creation of a sur- face by interlacing fibers at right angles.

SUMMARY

Early Christian and Byzantine art was a natural consequence of the fusion of the East and the West: the impersonal, mystic East whose ideal was transcendental and whose forms were abstract; the individual, anthropocen- tric West, whose ideal Was humanistic and whose forms were naturalistic. In this fusion originated an art based upon nature yet with no intention of producing an illusion of natural appearance. It consisted of a con- vincing formalism free from the acci- dents of actuality and in perfect accord with the ideals of the Church: “to ren- der visible the mysteries of the supra- natural world. 55 It was a hieratic and aristocratic art, in the service of the Church and of the courts. To carry out its aims, two types of church evolved, the basilican and the central, the latter of which, with its domical construction, displayed an extraordinary feeling for interior space organization. Both types, austerely plain on the exterior, on the interior concentrated a lavish use of low-keyed mosaics, colored marbles, carvings, and gold and silver vessels set with jewels and enamels — all of which through symbols and conventions

[a] Byzantine Textile. Silk. Detail showing one of a series of circular medallions, interspersed with floral motifs, which covered the fabric. D. in. Syria. Jth cent. Met- ropolitan Museum of Art , New fork City. (. Metro- politan Museum)

were intended not only to decorate sumptuously but also to teach clearly the lives of sacred personages and the tenets of the faith. At its best, under the spiritual power and driving force of a new faith all forms of this art expression were remarkably successful in evoking an ineffable mood of otherworldliness.

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Frothingham, Arthur L., The Monuments of Christian Roms from Constantine to the Renais- sance, Macmillan, 1908

Gluck, Heinrich, Die christliehe kunst des ostens, Berlin, 1923

Hamilton, John A., Byzantine Architecture and Decoration, Scribner, 1934

Jackson, Sir Thomas Graham, Byzantine and Romanesque Architecture, 2d ed., 2 vols.. Uni- versity of Chicago Press, 1920

Jacobus de Varagine, The Golden Legend, tr. and adapted from the Latin by Granger Ryan and Helmut Ripperger, 2 vols., Longmans, Green, 1941

Jameson, Anna B. Murphy, Sacred and Legendary Art, 2 vols., Houghton Mifflin, c. 1911

Lanciani, Rodolfo Amadeo, Pagan and Christian Rome, Houghton Mifflin, 1893

Lethaby, William R., Mediaeval Art, new ed., Scribner, 19x3

— — — — and Swainson, Harold, The Church

of Sancta Sophia, Constantinople, Macmillan, 1894

Lowrie, Walter, Monuments of the Early Church, Macmillan, 1901

Maskell, Alfred O., Ivories, Putnam, 1905

Millet, Gabriel, Le monastire de Daphni, Paris, 1899

Morey, Charles R., Christian Art, Longmans, Green, 1935

— — ■ — - — — Early Christian Art , Princeton University Press, 1942

Mediaeval Art , Norton, 1942

Muratov, Pavel Pavlovich, La peinture byzantine, Paris, 1935

Peirce, Hay ford, and Tyler, Royall, Byzantine Art , Stokes, 1926

Porter, Arthur K., Medieval Architecture, 2 vols., Baker and Taylor, 1909

Rivoira, Giovanni Teresio, Roman Architecture, Oxford University Press, 1925

Schultz, Robert W., and Barnsley, S. H., The Monastery of Saint Luke of Stiris, in Phocis, London, 1901

Sherrill, Charles H., Mosaics in Italy, Palestine , Syria, Turkey and Greece, London, 1933

Showerman, Grant, Eternal Rome, rev. ed., Yale University Press, 1925

Strzygowski, Josef, Origin of Christian Church Art, tr. by O. M. Dalton and H. J. Braunholtz, Oxford University Press, 1 923

Swift, Emerson H., Hagia Sophia, Columbia University Press, 1940

Talbot Rice, David, Byzantine Art, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1935

Van Millingen, Alexander, and Traquair, Ram- say, Byzantine Churches in Constantinople, Mac- millan, 1912

— Byzantine Constantinople, London,

1899

Victoria and Albert Museum, Catalogue of Tex*, tiles from Burying-Grounds in Egypt, 3 vols., Museum, London, 1920-22

Warner, George F., Illuminated Manuscripts in the British Museum, ser. 1-3, Museum, Lon- don, 1910

Whittemore, Thomas, The Mosaics of St. Sophia at Istanbul, Nos. 1-3, Oxford University Press, 1933-42 (Report of the Byzantine Institute)

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92

[a] Plans of Russian Churches, a. Church of the type qf St. Dmitri, Vladimir (Fig. 277 A); b. Church of the Transfiguration, Kizhi (Fig. 278 a); c. Church of St. John the Baptist, Taroslav (Fig. 280 a).

[a] Iconostasis, Uspenski Cathedral , Moscow, iyth cent.

RUSSIAN ART

(tenth to eighteenth century a.d.)

T A THENCE came the original Slavic in Kiev and other cities along the

V V peoples of Russia? This is a moot western rivers when Vladimir I (about

question. The peoples who early col- 956-1015), through close relations with

onized along the Black Sea and who Constantinople, accepted Eastern Or-

roamed the great steppes were Hellenic thodox (or Greek) Catholicism as the

or Iranian. Whatever their origin, state religion and imposed this faith

these early pagan Russians were settled upon his subjects.

276

MEDIEVAL ART

Russia at this time consisted of a group of loosely federated cities situ- ated on the great water trade route between the Baltic and the Black seas. This route lay along the Dnieper and northern lakes and rivers, with Kiev the chief city of the south and Novgorod that of the north (Fig. 276A). In this land of sweeping areas — vast steppes in the south and unmeasured swamps and woodlands in the north — the natural trade routes of long navigable river systems connected by short por- tages determined the city sites. These great distances, as well as differences of climate and geography, on the one hand militated against unity, political and cultural, but on the other, enabled the northern cities to remain compara- tively independent and out of reach of

the Asiatic invaders who were surging west over the great steppes.

At first Byzantine influence was strong. But inevitable expansion east- ward (eleventh and twelfth centuries) into the valley of the Volga, another great trade route, and the change of the capital from Kiev to Vladimir (nog) brought the Russians into rela- tions with Caucasia and Transcaucasia. In the thirteenth century the great cultural development at Vladimir was halted by the invasion of the Mongols (1238) ,* who held sway over Russia until the rising principality of Muscovy at first defied and then defeated the in-

1 The same westward movement of the Mon- gols under Jenghiz Khan which captured and destroyed Baghdad in 1258 and set up the Mongol dynasties in Persia. See Chapter 16.

277

RUSSIAN ART

vaders (1480) and finally, under Ivan the Terrible, expelled the last of them (i552)-

In the meanwhile northwestern Russia, centering at Novgorod and free from the Tatar domination, developed its native arts, into conformity with which it brought the imported Byzan- tine traditions. Though Novgorod was a member of the Hanseatic League and was on the direct trade routes to the East, it was in a comparative isolation, so far as cultural influences were con- cerned, that the arts evolved. In the fifteenth century, with the eviction of the Tatars, Russia again established close relations with the Byzantine Empire. Byzantine painters came to Novgorod and Moscow, and Novgorod painters and Pskov builders helped build the new Moscow. So that as Mos- cow became a cultural as well as a political center, here was consolidated a truly Russian style, which translated borrowed forms into its own modes of expression.

ARCHITECTURE

The architecture of medieval Russia was chiefly ecclesiastical, at first strongly under the influence of Con- stantinople, if not actually produced by Greeks. 1 * Examples are Santa Sophia at Kiev and a similar though less pre- tentious Santa Sophia at Novgorod. Both are built on the posticonoclastic plan of the Byzantine church (Fig. 264B)

that at Kiev with five apses and some

1 The only book in English which adequately treats medieval Russian architecture is D. R. Buxton, Russian Mediaeval Architecture, Mac- millan, 1934, to which the author is largely in- debted for the material in this section. The basic authority on Russian art is the history by

I. E. Grabar, which unfortunately has not been translated from the Russian but which is in- valuable for its illustrations and to which the

author is indebted for many of the illustrations in this chapter.

[a] Church of St. Dmitri. Vladimir. View showing the three apses, ngp-gy. (Buxton)

very fine Byzantine mosaics?; that at Novgorod with three apses, bulbous domes, and frescoes instead of mosaics ~~ for Novgorod was not so affluent as Kiev, not being the seat of royalty. At Novgorod and at near-by Pskov the bulbous dome vividly colored had al- ready appeared, 3 as had external gal- leries, covered stairways, and separate bell towers — all characteristic fea- tures of Russian churches.

Two churches at or near Vladimir, St. Dmitri (Fig. 2 77 a) and the Church of the Intercession , are built on the typical plan of a square enclosing a Greek cross and crowned with a dome (Fig. 274Aa), in these churches a single dome on a high drum. They are built of stone,

2 Only the central part of the present church at Kiev, with apses, belongs to the original church of 1037.

3 Apparently a native Russian form. Its origin is uncertain, though a plausible explana- tion is that it sheds the snow.

278

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Church of the Transfiguration. Kizhi , Lake Onega. Early 18th cent. For plan see Fig. 2J4Ab. ( Grabar )

which is rare in Russia, where brick, stucco, and wood are the usual mate- rials. With very few openings, the wall spaces are decorated effectively with moldings, some of which, rising un- broken from the ground to the roof, divide the wall into panels; others, much shorter, form blind arcadings. At St. Dmitri the surface within the arcadings is elaborately carved in low re- liefs peculiarly adapted to stone, and in subject matter and form close to Sas- sanian and other west- Asiatic carvings.

A truly native style 1 of church build- ing originated in the north in the vast

1 Though these timber churches all date after 1600, Mr. Buxton feels that they are the cul- mination of a long tradition, the earlier expres- sions of which have been lost through the perishable nature of the material, and particu- larly through fire.

rural districts dotted with villages, where timber was abundant. Free from Byzantine and Eastern influences and undisturbed by Mongol invaders, the Russian evolved out of his simple domestic buildings constructed of tree trunks laid horizontally the type of church seen in the octagon “tent- roofed” church of St. Mcholas (Fig. 279A), of which the Church of the Trans- figuration at Kizhi (on an island in Lake Onega) is an elaboration (Fig. 2 78a) . In the latter the octagon plan has been converted into a cross by extending four of its sides (Fig. 274Ab), and the mass of the church is as compact as its plan, notwithstanding the fantastic covering of roofs, which look like hori- zontally extended bulbous domes. Each roof carries a dome, and together they mount vivaciously to the crowning

RUSSIAN ART

379

members — an extraordinary group- ing of twenty-two domes into a com- pact conical mass.

So deeply traditional was this native wooden type that when requirements of greater permanency demanded brick or stone, the type was translated quite literally into the new medium, as we see in the Church of the Ascension (Fig. 280s) at Kolomenskoe (near Mos- cow). This practice reaches a fantastic expression in St. Basil at Moscow, in which all the elements noted above are used in excess, in exaggerated form and with intense color. Yet “a rare beauty of proportion emerges from apparent confusion — an impression of tranquility, not chaos,” especially when the building is "seen from the distance in some happy play of sun or moonshine.” 1

The fusion of Byzantine, Eastern, and native timber styles 2 took place in Muscovy, where at Moscow and Yaro- slav one finds, from the fifteenth to the seventeenth century, the climax of the national style. In Moscow, the Cathedral of the Annunciation (Fig. 281 a) is an example. It is built on a square plan with eastern apses and is covered with bulbous domes. Around three sides run external galleries approached by covered stairways; on the roof, leading up to the domes, are "encor- beled” arches. 3 In this cathedral there is also evidence of the fact that as early as the late fifteenth century Italian

1 Buxton, op. tit., p. 44.

2 The relation of the timber style to that of Moscow, like the origin of the bulbous dome, is controversial, as are, in fact, many points of origin and influence connected with this art, which has received but little attention up to the present time.

3 This extraordinary external decorative feature originated in a structural device, on the part of builders in Pskov, of superposing cor- beled arches above the four great arches of the crossing in order to make the transition from the square base to the dome a problem solved by the Byzantine builders with pendentives.

[a] Church of St. Nicholas the Wonder - Worker. Panilowo, Gov. Archangel, 1600, (Grabar)

architects were arriving in Moscow and were introducing into the native style Western elements — classical moldings, for example.

In Yaroslav, however, a great trade center still free from foreign influence, these Italian elements are lacking, and the church of St. John the Baptist (Fig. 2 80 a) is consistently Russian, following closely the standardized plan which, according to an edict issued in 1650 by the Patriarch of Russia, required all churches to use the square plan with five domes — a central one over the crossing and one over each angle be- tween the arms of the cross (Fig. 274AC). Notable in this church are the ex- ternal brickwork, the glazed tile deco- ration around the windows, the fine porches, and the general magnificence of the church as a whole.

28 o

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Church of St. John slav. 1687. See plan , Fig. 274AC.

[b] Church of the Ascension. Kolomenskoe (near Moscow). 1532. ( Grabar ) This brick church derives from its wooden prototypes a conical tower , superposed arches , and a high >ered stairways and galleries.

Only the exteriors of these Russian churches have been described. As the window openings are few and small, the interiors are dim. However, the great wall spaces lend themselves to mural decoration, as did those of their prototypes, the later Byzantine churches (Fig. 266 a ). A few wealthy churches used mosaics, the others fresco, but in either case according to a strict iconography. An important feature was the iconostasis (Fig. 2 75 a) , the many-tiered screen that separates the sanctuary from the main body of the church, with three doors, the central one — the royal door — reserved for the priests only. The iconostasis contains the sacred images, arranged according to rigid regulation. It is deco-

rated elaborately with carvings, gild- ing, and metalwork, and before it hang magnificent candelabra. Very resplend- ent is such an interior, its very dimness adding to the effect. The congregation stands, the liturgy contains long chants and a cappella music, with frequent censing. In flickering candlelight and through clouds of incense the rich vest- ments of the clergy combine with the brilliant color and ornament of the iconostasis to create a focal point, which is surrounded by dim walls covered with figures that rise in hieratic succession to the Pantocrator of the dome. Thus every element contributes to produce the effect of otherworldli- ness, the aim of the Byzantine artists.

i

RUSSIAN ART

281

PAINTING

To decorate the walls of churches, to paint icons for private shrines and for iconostases and miniatures for the sacred books, were the functions of the painter. Again, it was an ecclesiastical art. Like the buildings, the early mo- saics, frescoes, and icons are Byzantine in style. Some icons were probably im- ported from Constantinople or Greece. This was probably the case with the Vladimir Madonna (Fig. 283A), one of the icons held most sacred because it was believed to protect the Russians against the Mongols. For this reason it held a place of honor in the lowest tier of the iconostasis of the church at Vladimir. It is a typical Byzantine painting , 1 in

1 There are at least six layers of repainting; only the faces show the original surface. As the icons were quickly blackened by the incense, it was a usual practice to repaint them, which was often done, unfortunately, by an inferior painter. For the cleaning of this and other icons by the Central National Restoration Workshops of the Soviet Government, see M, S. Farbman, ed., Masterpieces of Russian Painting, London, 1930.

which two figures are compactly united into a majestic group that fills the panel with its flat pattern, a silhouette with unbroken sweep of virile contour within which the figures are tied together both as to form and as to sensitive feeling.

The development of the iconostasis into the elaborate screen with more than five tiers had an important effect on icon-painting. For the purpose of these paintings was to enable the worshiper to read pictorially. Clear pictorial legibility in wavering candle- light and through clouds of incense required strong pattern, firm lines, and intense color. For this reason the rela- tively sober hues of the early Byzan- tine paintings gave way to the more characteristically Russian colors, in- tense and contrasting.

This style we find in the work of the Novgorod and Pskov painters, in the Saint Basil (Fig. 283B), for example, which is dynamic in feeling, and star- tling in its angularity and contrasts. The sharp angles and strong curves re- peated in every detail, the precise out-

- 1 . : ' . ‘ !

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Rublev. Old Testa- ment Trinity. Trinity Cathedral in the Mon- astery of Sergievo. c. 1410. (A. H. Ban , Jr.)

lining of the parts of the head and of the features, the sharp color-contrasts, the elongated proportions — each of these elements contributes to an abstract pattern of brusque forcefulness and vigorous movement that is little con- cerned ■with a representation of visual perception.

As in architecture, it was the assim- ilation of outside influences with this native dynamism that produced a Russian style. As in architecture, again, with the waning of the Mongol dom- ination, during which Byzantine in- fluence was cut off, Greek painters again appeared at Novgorod and Mos- cow, among them Theophanes of Mistra. Under this renewed Byzantine

influence and through the requirements of the iconostasis, which was just at that time reaching its highest develop- ment, a climax of Russian painting was reached in the work of Andrei Rublev (about 1370-1430) whose monumental Old Testament Trinity (Fig. 282A) is a masterly design in line and color. About a table are seated the three angels who appeared to Abraham near the oaks of Mamre. The figures, each framed with a halo and sweeping wings, almost fill the panel, and are clearly and definitely related to each other and to the space by a design of horizontals and peculiarly suave curves, free from clashing oppositions, which produces a tranquillity like that of the Vladimir

mm

RUSSIAN ART

[b] St. Basil the Great. Right half of a pair of royal doors. 14th cent. Museum of Tver. (Figs. 283A and b, A. H. Barr , Jr.)

Vladimir Madonna, nth cent. Historical Mu- Moscow. Formerly in the Cathedral of the iption at Vladimir but removed to Moscow in 1395 ted the city from a Tatar invasion.

green: “one is amazed at a recurrent gamme of color different from any that Western art has produced or attempted to produce until recent years, in the extraordinary copy of Rublev’s Trin- ity, the unforgettable Saint Demetrius robed in vermilion with a vermilion shield, the black-winged archangels, Michael and Gabriel. The dominant scale of color is distinctly Oriental — parchment white, golden buff, tur- quoise, blue, vermilion, malachite green, an occasional note of plum

Madonna. Yet sufficient angularity in the table, the chairs, and the folds of the garments provides contrasting mo- tifs. These forms are constructed of color, each detail an area of color, which is frequently intensified by the juxtaposition of a complementary hue. The intense blue and green folds of the cloak of the central figure stand out starkly against the deep-red robe and gilded orange wings. In the figure on the left the high lights of the orange cloak are a pattern of opalescent blue-

MEDIEVAL ART

284

heightened by the uncompromising accent of unrelieved black. It could be matched by grouping Chinese, Korean, and Persian ceramics. The enamel- like purity and brilliance of the pig- ment constitute an almost unparalleled triumph in the technique of painting.” 1 We should not forget in considering this rich ecclesiastical art of medieval Russia the indispensable part played in the entire ensemble of a church in- terior by other arts: the carvings and rich metalwork of the iconostasis and the finely wrought jeweled halos and other ornaments on the icons; the can- dlesticks and candelabra; the miters and ecclesiastical robes stiff with gold, embroidery, and jewels; the illuminated books bound in gold or ivory inlaid with jewels and enamels; the crosses, croziers, sacred vessels, and processional banners. Each contributed with its amazing richness of texture and color to the total effect.

SUMMARY

The common objective of Russian art in the Middle Ages — to create visibly and emotionally an effect of transcendent otherworldliness — pro- duced one of the loftiest expressions of Eastern Christianity, It was an art that took much from other cultures, yet by adapting these borrowings to its own vernacular produced something strangely individual. In the quiet, if not monotonous, landscape a vivid, picturesque mass of domes and steeple-

1 Lee Simonson, Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, January, 1931, p. 6.

like tent roofs “gleams like a jeweled clasp on a sober robe.” The dim, re- splendent interior, to whose effective- ness builder, painter, and craftsman contributed, is perhaps the most com- prehensive expression of the common objective.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bunt, Cyril G. E., A History of Russian Art, Studio, 1946

Buxton, David R., Russian Mediaeval Architec- ture, Macmillan, 1934

Eliasberg, Alexander, Russische Baukunst, Mu- nich, 1922

Farbman, Michael S., ed., Masterpieces of Russian Painting, London, 1930

Halle, Fannina W., Alt-russische Kunst, Berlin,

192°

Kondakov, Nikodim Pavlovich, The Russian Icon, tr. by E. H. Minns, Oxford University Press, 1927

Lukomskii, Georgi; Kreskentevich, History of Modem Russian Painting, Hutchinson, 1945

Maskell, Alfred O., Russian Art and Art Objects in Russia, London, 1884

Metropolitan Museum of Art, A Catalogue of Russian Icons, with introduction by I, E. Grabar, Museum, New York City, 1931

Miliukov, Paul N., Outlines of Russian Culture, 3 pts., University of Pennsylvania Press, 1942: Pt. Ill, Architecture, Painting and Music

Muratov, Pavel Pavlovich, Les icones russes Paris, 1927

— - — • — — — La peinture byzantine, Paris, 1935

Newmarch, Rosa J., The Russian Arts, Dutton, 1916

Olsufiev, Yoori A., ‘ ‘The Development of Russian Icon Painting from the Twelfth to the Nineteenth Century,” Art Bulletin, Decem- ber 1930

Talbot Rice, David, ed., Russian Art: An Intro- duction, London, 1935

Voyce, Arthur, Russian Architecture, Philosophical Library, 1948

See also General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

MUHAMMADAN ART

MUHAMMADAN ART (A.D. 622 TO DATE)

WHILE the early Christian and Byzantine culture was evolving from a fusion of Greco-Roman, Near Eastern, and Northern elements, another culture, energized by an extremely dynamic religious force, was also rising. This was destined to meet the Christian religion at certain points and to fuse some of its forms, especially in Spain and Hispanic America, with those of Christian medieval art; in the Far East it met and fused with the arts of Far Asia. This was the Muhammadan religion.

When we think of the Muhammadans, we think not of a nation in the modern sense of the word, with sharply defined geographical boundaries, but of groups of people of varying cultures, widespread geographically but bound together by a burning and at times fanatical religious faith. The Muhammadans call this faith Islam, which means obedience to the will of Allah (God); and their creed is embodied in the prayer chanted by the muezzin from the minaret as he calls the faithful to worship: “God is great, God is great, God is great. I bear witness that there is no god but God. I bear witness that there is no god but God. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of God, I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of God. Come to prayer. Come to prayer. Come to security. Come to security. God is great. God is great. There is no god but God.” This religion, originating in Arabia, spread both east and west with amazing rapidity, chiefly by means of the sword; for the Muslim became an invincible soldier because of his fatalistic belief in the will of Allah, and because he was lured by the promise of immediate entrance into the Garden of Paradise if he died upon the field of battle fighting for the Islamic faith.

Because of geographical extent and lack of traditional unity, Muhammadan art has manifested itself in diverse ways, strongly affected by local tra- ditions, sometimes merely grafting upon the native art a few of its requirements. At first the Muslim conquerors, Arab nomads with no arts of their own, 1 did just what the Persians under Cyrus did when they conquered the older civilizations borrowed or adapted what they found at hand. For example, when they conquered Constantinople they converted the church of Santa Sophia into a mosque merely by in- serting a niche, whitewashing the mosaics containing figure work, and erecting the minarets. Soon, however, they so transformed their adaptations by their own means of expression that Muhammadan art became a strikingly individual thing. Because of this di-

1 No visual arts. Pre-Muhammadan Arabic poetry is of a high order.

versity, our discussion will be confined chiefly to Egypt 2 and to noting some of the characteristic features of Islamic art.

Egypt was a province of the Byzan- tine Empire at the time of its conquest by the Muslims in 641, and already the early Christians of Egypt, the Copts, had evolved from the strongly en- trenched Hellenistic art centered at Alexandria a very vital nonmaterialistic expression much more consistent with their own traditions. It was an expres- sion augmented by influences from the East, as we saw in their textile de- signs (Fig. 2 72 a). Ruled first by gov- ernors appointed by the caliphs of Damascus or Baghdad, Egypt finally set up an independent government under the Tulunids (868-904), which continued under the Fatimids (969- 11 71), who founded a new capital at Kahira (Cairo) in 969 and in their art expression reached a climax of refine- ment and dynamic vitality. Succeeding them as rulers were the Mamelukes (1252-1517) — Tatar slaves of the sultan who rose from servitude to become for nearly three hundred years independent Muslim sovereigns of Egypt. Politically it was an age of intrigue and murder. The Mamelukes were still barbarians and merciless cutthroats; rarely did a Mameluke reign more than a few years, and very few died a natural death. Yet the arts flourished with an amazing vigor and displayed a rare and refined taste — one of the startling contrasts of history, as Mr. Lane- Poole suggests.

Against sumptuousness and license of all kinds the Koran decreed puritan- ically. Yet the Muhammadans, par- ticularly the Mamelukes, with their Oriental love of color, fine silks, jewels, and richly inlaid vessels, managed in var-

2 Although possibly the finest early mosques and fortified palaces important for their stone construction are to be found in Damascus and Aleppo. For Muslim art in Persia see Chapter 16, and for Indian Art, Chapter 19.

MUHAMMADAN ART

287

[a] Plans of Mosques. 1. Mosque of Ibn Tutun (Fig. 285A ); 2. Tomb-mosque of Sultan Hassan (Figs. 288a, 289 a); 3. Tomb-mosque of Sultan Kait Bey (Figs. 290A, 291 a). Al- though apparently diverse in plan they have several features in common: a. court; b. fountain ; c. niche (mihrab) indicating the direction of Mecca; d, pulpit (mimbar); e. tribune (dikkeh) ; f. tomb; g. recess (liwan); h. minaret. In (1) covered arcades instead of recesses surround the court , which is 300 ft. square; in (2) the angles formed by the recesses of the court are filled with rooms for schools, offices, and apartments for the attendants.

ious ways to circumvent these decrees. With great wealth at their command, they adorned their homes, and even their traveling tents of gold-shot silk, with rich hangings, fine rugs, and ex- quisite utensils; and they clothed them- selves in the most splendid apparel. In

spite of many fastings, prayers, and pilgrimages demanded by the Koran, life was gay with festivals, feasts, and sports. 1

1 For a picture of Muhammadan life, see Stanley Lane-Poole, The Art of the Saracens in Egypt, London, 1886, Chap. I.

MEDIEVAL ART

ARCHITECTURE

Since the Muhammadan was fa- natical in religious belief and at the same time zealous in the pursuit of pleasure, it is natural to find his archi- tecture devoted chiefly to the mosque and the palace. As far as worship was concerned, his needs were simple: a se- cluded place, away from the noise of the streets, where a fountain provided water for ablution (for he must bathe before going to worship), and a place protected from the hot sun where, with face turned toward Mecca, he could pray. This direction was indicated to him by a niche in the wall of the mosque, beside which was a pulpit from which the Friday (the Muham- madan Sunday) sermon was preached; a little in front of these stood the raised platform from which the Koran was recited and prayers were chanted. These simple but universal features con- stitute the sanctuary of a mosque (Figs. 287A, 29 1 a).

[a] Mosque of Sultan Hassan. Cairo. 1356-59. The dome indicates a tomb-mosque. Of stone taken from the Pyramids of Giza.

MUHAMMADAN ART

[a] Mosque of Sultan Hassan. Court, looking toward the sanctuary .

The early cloistered mosque of Ibn Tulun (Figs. 285A, 287 ai) adequately supplies these needs. It consists of a great open court with a fountain in the center, surrounded by covered arcades two deep on three sides but five deep on the sanctuary side (the end facing to- ward Mecca), the special place of prayer; and a girdle wall standing fifty feet out- side the mosque walls on three sides, which gives the building added se- clusion. The exterior presents a plain, massive wall with a row of small win- dows and simple unadorned doorways, the only decoration being a crenelated parapet. At one side rises the minaret, the tower from which the muezzin calls to prayer; it is rectangular, partaking of the same simple boldness and massive-

ness as the rest of the mosque. An ex- ternal ramp provides a means of ascent which carries the mind back to the ramp towers of Babylonia (Fig. 83A).

The mosque of Sultan Hassan (Fig. 288a) is more complex in plan (Fig. 287 A2). On each side of the court is a barrel-vaulted recess (liwan) with pointed arch, the largest constituting the sanctuary, behind which is the dome- covered tomb. The angles of the re- cesses are filled with rooms for schools, offices, and apartments, for Muslim educational institutions are usually con- nected with the mosque. This mosque is an austere mass of stone (appropri- ated from the Pyramids of Gizeh, just as the early Christians appropriated stone and marbles from the classical Roman

290

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Tomb-mosque of Sultan Kait Bey. In the environs of Cairo. 1472-76. Of red and white freestone. ( Photoglob )

buildings to build their churches), with decoration concentrated at the lofty portals and in a frieze beneath the crenelation. The interior (Fig. 2 89A), ex- cept the great arches, is made of brick

stuccoed with decorative carvings and [b] Pulpit of Kait Bey. Door. Wood and

a particularly fine border (Fig. 288b) at ivory. H. 7 ft. Late 15th cent, Victoria and

the spring of the vault.

Smaller mosques enabled the builders to decorate more lavishly; as we see in the mosque of Kait Bey (Fig. 290A), the small size, lightness, and elegance of which contrast with the grandeur and unadorned simplicity of Ibn Tulun and Sultan Hassan. The mosque with its minaret and the tomb with its dome are massed asymmetrically, as is indi- cated in the nonaxial plan (Fig. 287A3). The tall arched portal, a character- istic feature of the mosque, is elabo- rately ornamented with carvings and

Albert Museum^ London, {Victoria and Al- bert Museum)

stalactites. 1 Shallow recesses enclosing the windows break up the wall surface. The slender, graceful minaret, with projecting galleries from which stalac- tites depend, is ornamented with niches and carvings; the contrasting dome with its virile sweep of line is covered

1 Pendent architectural ornaments resem- bling the icicle-like deposits (stalactites) found in caverns.

[a] Tomb-mosque of Sultan Kait Bey (Figs. 290A, 28ja$). Sanctuary showing the pulpit (mimbar), the niche (mihrab), and the richly colored glass windows ; at the upper left is a segment of the horseshoe arch.

with arabesque carvings. The usual crenelation finishes the walls, for the overshadowing cornice rarely finds a place in Muhammadan architecture. In this mosque the place of ablution is a small room at the left of the entrance. The court is roofed with a hexagonal lantern rich in color and gold, and on it opens the sanctuary, with a pointed horseshoe arch of alternating light and dark stone (Fig. 291 a). The floor is paved with marble slabs, and the lower part of the walls is faced with variously colored marbles through which gleams mother-of-pearl. The niche is orna- mented sumptuously with marble and mosaic, and the pulpit with carvings. Above, the wall is pierced with small windows of brilliantly colored glass. From the ceiling are suspended chains

that originally held inlaid metal or enameled-glass lamps. The impression of such a sanctuary with its subdued light is one of great richness of material and splendor of color.

Even a superficial glance at Islamic art — not building only but all the arts — discloses its love of an orna- mentation which impresses one with its dynamic vitality and decorative beauty. Its motifs were very limited. Islam for- bade the representation of human and animal figures, and though the decree was not followed except by the ortho- dox and except in the case of objects used in the mosque, still it turned the eye of the artist to geometry and the world of plant life for subject matter.

From plant life — no one has dis- covered just where or when — was

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MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Carved Wood Panel. From the mosque- hospital of Sultan Kalaun , Cairo. 1284. (After Prisse <P Avenues)

derived the arabesque, that universal Muslim motif which is one of the most characteristic marks of the style. The arabesque is a flowing, spiraling, inter- lacing pattern with palmette- or half- palmette-like motifs, suggestive but not at all imitative of leaf forms (Fig. 293A). It was adaptable to almost every material, and with its capacity for spiraling with infinite variations well satisfied the Muslim’s Strong impulse to cover surfaces. For a horror vacui

possessed him. Another universal mo- tif in Islamic ornament was Arabic calligraphy. Writing was a fine art and both styles, Kufic and Neskhi, 1 re- vealed decorative possibilities, the Kufic (Figs. 288B, 297B) providing con- trasting angularity, the Neskhi flowing into the curves of the arabesques (Fig. 295 a). A third Islamic motif found from Spain to India was the stalactite used with such effectiveness in the mosque portal.

Plaster, used wet, was a particularly adaptable medium for the freely flow- ing line that distinguishes Muhamma- dan ornament, for here the hand could move easily and spontaneously. It appears in the earlier buildings — for example, about the arches in the mosque of Ibn Tulun — but was largely replaced by stone or marble about the fourteenth century. The Kufic frieze (Fig. 288b) that decorates the sanctuary of the mosque of Sultan Hassan well illustrates stucco ornament. The bold, angular letters are particularly monu- mental, and contrast effectively with the delicate floral arabesques from which they emerge.

Though plaster and stone were used largely in architectural ornament and even occasionally for a pulpit, wood was the material most favored for deco- rating the furnishings of both mosques and palaces. It was not only carved but frequently inlaid with ivory and ebony. This is well illustrated by a mosque pulpit, which stands at the right of the niche as one faces the sanctuary (Fig. 291 a). Approached by a high door, it consists of a stairway that leads to a small covered platform surmounted by a cupola. Elaborate decoration, geo-.

1 Kufic: the older, formal, angular style, so called from the city of Kufa in Mesopotamia, where the best calligraphers lived. Neskhi: a cursive script, Kufic was used for inscriptions and for copying the Koran, though later Neskhi was used for the latter purpose, with Kufic reserved for chapter headings.

MUHAMMADAN ART

metric, floral, and stalactite, covers the surface. A door from one of these pul- pits (Fig. 290B) illustrates the abundance of the carving. Arabesques, with panels inserted for the inscriptions, cover all the surfaces except the panels of the doors, which are filled with geometric patterns whose incisive angularity af- fords a happy contrast to the gliding lines of the rest of the carving. The geo- metric patterns are made up of many small polygons, each framing a floral motif and finished with a molding. The polygons are ingeniously fitted to- gether so as to allow for warping, which is expected in the Egyptian climate. In these geometric designs we see the same fertility of invention as in the ara- besque. 1

In an example of Fatimid wood- carving which is notable for the virility of its design (Fig. 293A) the wood is undercut so as to create a light pattern on a dark ground, thus bringing into prominence the strong central motif terminating in the horses’ heads, and its integration, carried out with such inevitability, into the lighter rapid arabesques. Another panel (Fig. 292A), from the Hospital of Kalaun , makes greater use of human and animal fig- ures, some of which are suggestive of Eastern textiles. Broad sweeping bands form a heart-shaped motif repeated with variations and playing into the narrower spirals. Thus two systems of movement interplay throughout the panel. Broadly sweeping lines inter- twine and knot, now terminating in floral forms that fill the ground and now forming geometric areas that con- tain human, bird, animal, and griffin forms. In the large central medallion is a kneeling man carrying a slain deer on his shoulders; above him are two eagles in balanced position, and at the sides two cockatoos whose long sweep- ing tails repeat the curves of the scrolls; the four circular medallions are filled

[a] Wood Door Panel, Carved with ara- besques and the heads of two horses. W. c. gin. nth cent. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New fork City . (Metropolitan Museum)

with griffin or deer on whose backs are eagles with outspread wings. Details are omitted, and the forms are flattened out, simplified, and pleasingly adapted to the curving lines of the geometric areas.

Color and gilding played an impor- tant part in Muhammadan ornament. Both stucco and wood-carvings were vividly painted. Another method of ob- taining color was by marble inlay and stained glass. Panels of variously col- ored marbles — red, yellow, black, green — perhaps combined with blue tile, or bordered with a geometric pat- tern of colored glass and mother-of- pearl, faced the sanctuary of the mosque or formed a dado around the palace room. A most brilliant effect of color came from the windows, which were

294

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Window . Stucco and glass. H. 30 in. Victoria and Albert Museum , London. (Vic- toria and Albert Museum)

made by filling a wooden frame with plaster about an inch thick, scooping out a pattern in the plaster while it was still soft, and then filling in the perfora- tions with bits of colored glass. In Fig- ure 294A the design consists of a palm tree with spreading branches that curve to fit into the arch in which it stands; below are plane trees and flowers. The process is very simple and crude in comparison with the leaded windows of the Gothic period (Fig. 354A); but the masses of color when penetrated by the Egyptian sunshine are rich and jewel- like in their effect.

The Cairene house was, and is today, a flat- topped structure of several stories built about an open court — the typi- cal Mediterranean house plan — with one part reserved for the women, who live in seclusion. It stands flush with the narrow street and often has a

carved, metal-studded wooden door and overhanging windows with infi- nitely varied wooden lattice. Although provided with these windows, the house faces the court, which in the better homes is a garden with fountains. The furnishings are extremely simple, but the carpets and cushions, inlaid metal, and carvings produce the same rich- ness of effect that we have observed in the mosque.

The palaces of the Muslims, from India to Spain, are magnificent houses for luxurious living. In Spain the Moors established themselves in the southern part of the country, though their in- fluence penetrated the entire penin- sula. Cordova in the tenth century was one of the most enlightened cities of Europe and, with its great libraries, a center for learning. Its astronomers, mathematicians, musicians, and sur- geons were famous, and in the Great Mosque its architects had worked out a system of ribbed vaulting two cen- turies before the Gothic builders. Here in Iberia was firmly implanted a style that was to continue after the expul- sion of the Moors and was to be influ- ential in the Hispanic colonies in America. Marks of this style are: the horseshoe arch; geometric ornament with an insistent surface character; carved and polychromed wood ceilings and doors. The Alhambra illustrates the Moorish version of the Muhammadan palace. It is built about several courts, with tiled fountains and shaded por- ticoes along the sides. The lower part of the walls is covered by tiles deco- rated with geometric designs in sub- dued tones harmonizing with the shady part of the court. Slender columns sup- port arches and walls, the surfaces of which are richly covered with stalac- tites, intricate geometric ornament, and inscriptions, molded in stucco and painted and gilded. This decoration, though profuse, is orderly, and each

MUHAMMADAN ART

motif is sensitively related to the area — wall space, soffit of an arch, spandrel, or capital — and held to that area, and its delicacy is brought out clearly by color.

METALWORK, GLASS,

TEXTILES

The furnishings of the palaces as well as of the mosques satisfied the Muslim’s love of rich and sumptuous effects. With both painting and sculpture banned, he must needs depend upon the carvers in stone and wood, the mo- saicists, the workers in various metals, the glassmaker, and the weaver to satisfy his needs. The same motifs — the arabesque, floral, and geometric de- signs and interlacings, calligraphy — appear in all the crafts, and are a rev- elation of the flexibility of this narrow range of ornament, for rarely does one find exact duplication.

Islamic metalwork maintains the high quality that has characterized this art in the Near Eastern lands through- out the ages. Basins, often huge in size, ewers, candlesticks, trays, perfume- burners, jewel cases, writing-boxes — many objects for use in the mosque and the home — were made of wrought copper or brass, engraved and inlaid with silver, with the base sometimes covered with a black substance to set forth the silver inlay more sharply and

[a] Brass Bowl , Inlaid with silver. The inscrip- tion reads: “ His Excel- lency , generous , exalted , lordly, great Amir, wise, ruler, leonine, fighter for the Faith, warden of Islam (liegeman) of El-Melih En-Nasir” (a Mame- luke ruler of 14th cent.).

British Museum, London.

295

thus create a resplendent effect. In Figure 295A, for example, effective use is made of the Arabic calligraphy; the chief band of decoration consists of an inscription in large letters, broken by rosettes which are made of a central whorl surrounded by a ring of flying ducks. A narrower band of scroll pat- tern, broken at intervals by whorls, separates the broad band from the diaper pattern of flowers and birds on the bottom.

Very brilliant was the enameled glass, particularly effective in the mosque lamps. The glass of these lamps is blown, with many bubbles and streak- ings, and is usually slightly yellow or green. In Figure 2 96 a, the broad, tall neck tapers toward the rather squat body, which carries six loops or handles for the silver chains by which it was suspended to the beam or ceiling of the mosque. The surface is covered with bands of arabesques and arabesque- entwined inscriptions worked in enamel — blue, white, yellow, green, red — with a liberal use of gold. Inside the lamp a small glass vessel, with oil and wick, is hooked to the rim, so that the light brings out the decorations with a rich soft glow. The effect of a con- siderable number of these lamps in such a sanctuary as that of Kait Bey must have been magnificent.

Woven fabrics and leather were of great value for their contribution of

296

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Mosque Lamp. Enameled glass. H. 13 in. The inscription on the neck from the Koran reads , li In the house that God hath permitted to be raised for His name to be commemorated therein, men celebrate his praises morning {and evening).” 14th cent. Victoria and Albert Museum , London. {Vic- toria and Albert Museum)

texture and color. When the Arabs came into Egypt, the weaving craft had already reached a high level of attain- ment among the Copts, as it also had in Sassanian Persia , 1 whose fine silks not only were highly prized but domi- nated textile design throughout the Near East . 2 At first the Arabs employed the Copts to work for them, and from these expert weavers they learned the craft. By the time of the Fatimids Arab fabrics were famous (Fig. 297A) .

1 See Chapter 16.

2 It is interesting to note how many of our names for textiles originate in Near East weav- ing centers — damask, muslin, and taffeta are examples — indicating tire fame of these centers for producing fabrics.

The fabrics were made usually with a fine linen warp and silk weft, and the patterns were based upon the usual Islamic motifs — the arabesque and calligraphy — and upon Coptic and Sassanian designs of interlaced circles containing birds and animals or two bilaterally balanced figures.

CALLIGRAPHY

Two peoples, at least, practiced the art of writing as a major art: the Chi- nese and the Muhammadans. With the latter, fine writing was used not only for books — for at this period all books were written by hand — but also, as we have seen, as one of the peculiarly Islamic decorative motifs. Perhaps the highest point of achievement was the Koran (Qur’an), the sacred book of Islam. The calligrapher’s work con- sisted not only in the shaping of the letters but also in illumination as rich as the decoration of the mosque sanc- tuary (Fig. 297B). The first and last two or three pages generally contain a richly decorated panel with the usual inscription — “Let none touch it save the purified” —-in Kufic letters, and a margined medallion. Frequently the text is written in gold letters. Vivid blue predominates in the decoration, with a little red and white, black or green, and a great deal of gold. The splendor of the effect is perhaps equaled by the delicacy of the infinite detail, even more intricate than the carvings and engravings, for the brush is more facile than the carver’s tools.

SUMMARY

Among the Muhammadans we find an art with unusually narrow restric- tions. The mosque and the palace with their sparse furnishings illustrate the range of art expression. There is a con- spicuous absence of pictures and sculp-

MUHAMMADAN ART

297

ture and few representations of the human or animal figure except for secular use, and then infrequently. In their stead are delicate carvings of stone, stucco, wood, and ivory or marble inlay’ rich stuffs, brilliantly colored glass,’ and resplendent metal. Every- where is line, pattern, color. All the arts are inextricably interwoven, not only in creating the ensemble but in interchange of ideas and motifs; for the geometric inlay on the helmet finds its way to the carvings of the dome; the stone or stucco carved band on the mosque, to the pages of a Koran; and the textile design, to the silver inky of a bowl. The very restrictions of this art, however, seem to be responsible for its particular bent. For with concentration upon decoration, and with that, too, dependent upon a few fundamental geometric and floral motifs, the Muslim created an endless variety of carvings, now the angular geometric pattern, now the smoothly flowing, intricate

[a] Fatimid Silk T 'extile. 13th cent. Met- ropolitan Museum of Art , Mew York City. ( Metropolitan Museum )

arabesque. But each work, no matter what the medium, was apparently a fresh and vital creation, displaying, in spite of narrow bounds, great inven- tiveness and amazing exuberance.

[b] Illuminated Page from a Koran. 1368- 88. Khedivial Library , Cairo. ( Moritz )

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298

Gliick, Heinrich, and Diez, Ernst, Die Kunsi des Islam, Berlin, ig25

Grousset, Rene, The Civilizations of the East, tr. by G. A. Phillips, 4vols., Knopf, 1931-34, Vol. I

Hobson, Robert L., A Guide to the Islamic Pottery of the Near East, British Museum, London, 1939

Kendrick, Albert F,, Catalogue of Muhammadan Textiles of the Medieval Period, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1924

Kcechlin, Raymond, Vart de ITslam: Les ce- ramiques, Paris, 1928

and Alfassa, Paul, Vart de ITslam ,

Paris, 1928

16

PERSIAN ART

Sassanian Persian Art

(a.d. 226-641)

I N the third century a.d. a new power had arisen in Persia, the Sassanian, so called From a priestly Iranian family who lived in a secluded part of southern Persia and there maintained the old traditions and religion of their race. Having conquered the Parthians, the Sassanians, notwithstanding the welter of Hellenistic, Roman, Parthian, and early Christian influences in the Valley of the Two Rivers, brought about a revival of Iranian culture, especially of the ancestral faith of Zoroaster. This Sassanian empire, with capitals at Istakhr (near Persepolis) and at Ctesi- phon (near Baghdad), reached a cli- max under Chosroes (Khosrau) I (a.d. 531-579) and Chosroes (Khosrau) II (590-628), when Ctesiphon became

Lane, Edward W., An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, 3d ed., Dutton, 1908

Lane-Poole, Stanley, The Art of the Saracens in Egypt, London, 1886

Migeon, Gaston, Les arts musulmans, Paris, 1926

Nicholson, Reynold A., Translations of Eastern Poetry and Prose, Macmillan, 1922

Rivoira, Giovanni Teresio , Moslem Architecture, tr. by G. McN. Rushforth, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1919

Ross, Sir Edward Denison, ed., The Art of Egypt through the Ages, Studio, 1931 See also General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

a fabulously rich city and one of the most influential centers of the Near East. These rulers were great patrons of the arts and encouraged all workers in the crafts, particularly the weavers of fine silk textiles, which were in de- mand by the luxurious Byzantine court and which, through their intro- duction into the West, became a strong influence in the evolution of European ornament. When Justinian, in his zeal to propagate the Christian faith, closed the pagan schools of Athens, the art- ists and scholars fled to the court of Chosroes I, carrying with them the classical traditions and learning, with the result that the Sassanian court was one of the broadest and most en- lightened of the Near East. But, not- withstanding its power and vigor, this empire was short-lived, for it was one of the first to fall before the fanatical invincibility of the Muslim invaders (a.d. 641).

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299

[a] Palace at Ctesiphon. Sassanian. {Sane and Herzfeld)

ARCHITECTURE

Sassanian art is an example of the great assimilative capacity of the Iranian. Whatever he took he trans- lated into his own idiom and infused with his own dynamic vitality. As with the Achaemenids, the palace is the type building, of which the Palace at Ctesiphon (Fig. 2 99 a ) is the outstanding example. Though the columnar Hel- lenic style had penetrated the East through the conquests of Alexander the Great and had continued under Roman and Parthian rule, the Sas- sanian revived the native tradition of vaulted construction, though Western influence is seen in details. What little is left of the Palace at Ctesiphon is elo- quent of monumental grandeur, and when one recalls the stucco decorations and — upon reading of the booty taken by the Muslim — the marvelous car- pets and furnishings, one can easily be- lieve in its fabulous magnificence. An imposing elliptical barrel vault of brick which roofs the throne room dwarfs human beings by the magnitude of its

scale. It is buttressed by a solid facade, and decorated with engaged columns and blind arcadings, which do not fol- low the superimposed system of the Roman style, but show a striking variety of arrangement in the stories that re- veals an unhampered versatility . 1

SCULPTURE

Monumental vigor through largeness of design distinguishes Sassanian rock- cut sculpture: the colossal equestrian re- liefs of Ardashir I and Shapur I at Naksh-i-Rustum near Persepolis, and of Chosroes II at Tak-i-Bostan, a villa near the modern Kermanshah that was a famous park in Sassanian times. Here, in an arched recess cut in a rock at the base of a cliff which borders a small lake, is the statue of Chosroes II. His char-

1 Excavations at Ctesiphon have brought to light a large number of fragments of stone and stucco ornament and other objects. See the Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, August, 1932. See also reports of excavations by the Uni- versity Museum at Damghan and by the Oxford- Field Expedition at Kish.

300

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Stone Carving with Winged Griffin . Detail from a relief of Chosroes II, (Sane)

ger Shabdiz (a name meaning “Black as Night”) is heavily caparisoned, and the rider is clothed in armor. Though the statue has been badly mutilated by the Muslim, it still impresses with its monumentality, with its feeling for stone, and with the virility of every line and detail, which are so carved that they imbue the entire figure with an intense vitality as well as surface decora- tive beauty — qualities that are evi- dent also in the recently discovered stucco fragments of horses and decora- tive panels.

SILVERWORK AND TEXTILES

This same pulsating vitality, com- bined with a sensitive relationship of forms, controls the work of the silversmiths and weavers. Behind the Sassanian metalworker lay a long tra- dition of extraordinary quality, which his own cups and plates maintain. The winged griffin is a popular motif, in early examples expressed with all the vigor of the carvings (Fig. 300 a). Later this acquires more elaboration, elegance, and ease of line, as in the shallow cup with a plumed griffin in

the Victoria and Albert Museum. An easy facility of line combined with a vigor of conventional form is seen in a Silver Plate (Fig. 30 ib), which is deco- rated with a lithe animal walking along the banks of a river, indicated by swirl- ing lines, from which rise lotus flowers to fill the vacant spaces. Another popu- lar motif is the hunter. In Figure 301 a six figures are composed into a unit determined by a circular space. Dy- namic curves and countercurves, now flowing together, now meeting at sharp angles, create a forceful pattern through which conventional motifs for drapery, muscles, manes, and fur carry rapid minor rhythms.

Weaving reached a high stage of ac- complishment. The silk-weaving craft had made its way westward from China and became a flourishing industry in Persia, where the craftsmen wove fabrics not only for home use but for Byzantium and western Europe as well. An all-over pattern based upon large medallions connected by small ones is a distinctive feature of these stuffs. In Figure 301c the hunter motif appears. Two kings on winged horses, arranged with perfect bilateral balancing, are

PERSIAN ART

301

[a] Silver Plate, Partially gilt. Chosroes I hunting ibexes . D. < 9 § in. 6th cent. Metro- politan Museum of Art , Mew Tork City. (. Metropolitan Museum )

[b] Silver Plate. Partially gilt. Carved and engraved with a fantastic animal and lotuses. D. id in. glh-xoth cent. Biblio- Mque Maiionale, Paris. (Giraudon)

[c] Silk Textile with the Hunter Motif Sassanian. c, 600. Kunsigewerbe Museum, Berlin, (Lessing) Compare this with the more naturalistic rendering of the same motif on a Byzantine textile [Fig, 273 a).

holding aloft the cubs of the lioness they have been hunting. The forms of all the figures are so highly generalized that they have become decorative pat- terns splendidly adapted to the circular space. The astounding amount of vigor in the forms, and the highly simplified drawing necessary for a successful textile pattern, are harmonized with extraor- dinary skill in the Sassanian fabrics.

Muhammadan Persian Art

(a.d. 641-1736)

r lPHE kingdom of the Sassanids was X short-lived because of the invin- cible fighting power of the Muslims, who swept eastward in their conquests in the seventh century a.d. and in 762 established Baghdad as the seat of the caliphate, a final blow to the life of Gtesiphon. Baghdad became the cen- ter not only of a gorgeous and pleasure-

302

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Royal Mosque . Isfahan. 1612. ( Arthur Upham Pope )

loving court, the famed city of the Thousand and One Nights, but also of a culture and art that was ostensibly Islamic but at heart Iranian. For it was the age of the Iranian Abbasids, of that famed ruler Harun-al-Rashid (786-809) ; the age of Firdausi (940- 1020), the great epic poet who gathered together the heroic legends of the Ira- nian people into the Shah-nama , or Book of Kings; of Nizami (1141-1203), the famous romantic poet of Persia; of Omar Khayyam (died 1123), who took for the setting of his quatrains the luxu- rious, pleasure-seeking aspect of life; and of the Sufi mystics, who provided the poets a complete contrast to the sensuous element in Omar Khayyam in their concepts of a joyful, ecstatic ap- prehension of divinity permeating all animate life.

Meantime the Mongols, or Tatars, moving westward under Jenghiz Khan ( 1 162-1 227), captured Baghdad in 1258, and came to rulership, bring- ing with them the traditions of China.

Thus Persia has been the melting-pot of many influences: the Babylonian, the Assyrian, and the Achaemenian, with an admixture of Egyptian; through the conquests of Alexander and the Romans, the Hellenic influence, the Roman, and their successor the Byzantine; after the revival of the Iranian by the Sassanids, the Islamic influence; and with the Mongol invasion, the Chinese. But despite these converging influences, one feels the constancy and the tenacity of the Iranian tradition. The Mongol rulers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, with their capital at Samar- kand, accepted Islam. The dynasty of the Timurids (1396-1500), founded by Tim.hr (Tamerlane), was a period of prosperity and wealth, and under their patronage were produced some of the finest books, carpets, and metal. The Safavids (1 502-1 736) at the time of Shah Abbas I (1587-1628) reached an- other climax. But already overelegahce, easy grace, and a naturalistic trend were foretelling the decline.

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303

[a] Recess Decorated with Stalactites of Colored Tile. Royal Mosque , Is- fahan (Fig. 30 2 a ). (Arthur Upham Pope )

ARCHITECTURE

In Islamic Persia it is the mosque as well as the palace that engages the builder. And the garden assumes ex- traordinary importance in this semi- desert land, an importance that finds expression in poetry as well as in paint- ing and in the garden carpets. For Persian art “is inseparable from the very land of Persia, where, against an ever-present background of mauve and golden desert, set in a frame of rosy mountains, a few dead mountains standing out against the horizon like some landscape in the moon, a slender stream of water, a few poplars, and an old crumbling wayside inn suddenly assume a totally unexpected artistic value.

“And in addition to this incessant re- minder of the desert there is the light air of the high plateaux with its incom- parable purity, which adds an unvary- ing delicacy to every tone. Against this sky of a tender blue the favorite colons of the Persian architects acquire an extraordinary value — the mellow tone of the brick of the ancient mosques of

Hamadan and Varamin or the fairy- like blue of the great domes of Isfahan or the gold of the dome of Qum, brood- ing and solitary in the infinite space of the desert. A profound harmony exists between this country and its art, an intimate relation which transcends human factors and will survive them, for here ruin assumes the aspect of the very soil of the country, while the desert itself possesses the tones and ap- pearance of its ruins.” 1

The Royal Mosque (Masjid-i-shah) of Isfahan (Fig. 302AI reflects this descrip- tion. It faces a great open square about which are located the imperial palace, mosques, and markets. Rising from a group of subsidiary cloisterlike build- ings and courtyards with gardens and fountains, it presents a composition of pointed, bulbous dome, pointed arches framed by rectangles, and cylindrical minarets — all sheathed in brilliantly colored glazed tile. There are evident here several traditions of the Valley of the Two Rivers: brick, with a limited use of stone, for material; the arch sys-

1 Rene Grousset, The Civilizations of the Bast, 3 vols., Knopf, 1931, Vol. I, p. 393.

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Mirak. Laila and Majnun. 16th cent. Metropolitan Museum of Art , New Tork City. (, Metropolitan Museum )

tem of construction; and intensely color- ful ceramic decoration. Structurally, the erection of a dome on a rectangular or polygonal plan brings the problem of the transition from angular to spher- ical volumes, a problem met by the Byzantine builders with the pendentive (Fig. 26 1 a), by the Persian with the squinch (Figs, 260A, 290A) .

The ceramic decoration at Isfahan (Fig. 303 a) is a continuation of the tra- dition we have followed in the Valley of the Two Rivers from the blue tile of the sanctuary of the % iggurat at Ur (Fig. 83 a) by way of Khorsabad (Fig. 91 a) and the Ishtar Gate (Figs. 96A, 97A) to Susa and Persepolis. The motifs are geometric patterns, arabesques, or in- scriptions, sometimes slightly in relief, and the colors are rich blues of many

tones, green and yellow, black and white-— now used with strong con- trast, such as a white arabesque on the deepest blue or black ground, now more nearly in the same key. Yet whatever the color combination and however in- tricate the design, the surfaces are never broken. The clear, definite or- ganization of a few simple masses, with the help of the shadows in the arched recesses, keeps the rich surface decora- tion entirely subordinate, just as in Santa Sophia (Fig. 261 a), where the rhythmic movement of arches and domes holds under control the sump- tuous detail.

PAINTING

Although frescoes are by no means unknown, 1 our chief criterion of Per- sian painting and probably its greatest expression is found in the miniatures. The shahs were great lovers of fine books. They spared neither time nor money to obtain them and maintained trained calligraphers at court; often these included the most famous artists of the day. Among the early books, in addition to splendid copies of the Koran, are copies of the Manaji al- Hayawan (or Bestiary). In the Bullock (Fig. 305A) the bulky figure, with its firm lines and its strong dark stripes and horn balanced by dark areas in the hoofs and the tail, stands massively against the lighter wavering movement of the foliage, which is painted in the style of Chinese ink painting (which came to Persia with the Mongols).

The truly Persian style and some of the greatest triumphs of Persian paint- ing are found in the secular books of the Timurids and the Safavids, such as the poems of Firdausi and Nizami

1 For the recently discovered frescoes at Isfahan, see Persian Fresco Paintings, American Institute for Persian Art and Archaeology, New York, 1932. ...■

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305

[a] Bullock . From a Manafi al-Hayawan ( Bestiary ) . Late 13th cent. Pierpont Morgan Li- brary, Mew York City. ( Metropolitan Museum )

illustrated by a whole galaxy of paint- ers, famous among whom were Bihzad (about 1440-1553) and Mirak and Sul- tan Muhammad, court painters of Shah Tahmasp (1524-1576), a great art patron. Although the shahs were Muslims, orthodox Islamic restrictions regarding the figure did not affect their secular arts, so that the gay scenes of their life of pleasure — the hunt, the feast, flowers, music, and romance — and battle scenes fill the pages of their books. One looking at them feels the luxury, the splendor, and the fleeting happiness of Omar. The cool gardens with fruit trees always blossoming and tall slender palm trees waving gently against the blue sky; the palace or mosque that gleams with enamel- like walls of lustrous faience; or the rocky hillsides where the hunters or warriors dash by on slender horses — these form the setting for the tales.

From one of Nizami’s romantic poems is the Laila and Majnun (Fig. 304A). The scene represents a school, apparently in a mosque. Seated on a rug is the turbaned priest, the teacher, lash

in hand, listening to a youth reading; round him are other youths studying, all seated on their knees and heels or with one knee raised, the customary sit- ting postures in the East. Here and there are the cross-legged bookrests. In the foreground one boy is pulling his companion’s ear, and at the left, near the large water jar, two are playing ball. In the middle distance are the lovers Laila and Majnun, each obvi- ously aware of the other’s presence. There is a good deal of vivacity in the narrative element. The figures are drawn expressively with delicate, flow- ing lines; but they are flat, with no chiaroscuro and with but a hint of perspective; the tiles in the court and the rugs on the floor appear to be hang- ing vertically. The painting is con- ceived from the point of view not of natural appearance but of pattern and vivid color. To this end the tones are kept bright and clear. The decorative quality of the miniature is emphasized by the broad margins of the page, which is tinted pale-blue and flecked all over with gold. The opposite page of the

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MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Ewer. Brass inlaid with silver and ornamented with inscriptions and festal scenes. H. n in. 1232. British Museum , London. (. British Museum )

book is designed to harmonize with the illustrated page, for the area containing the writing is equal to that of the minia- ture and the margins are of the same gold-flecked pale-blue. The writing, a beautiful example of the Arabic script, is the work of a famous calligrapher who says in the colophon that the book was “finished with God’s help by the hand of the poor and obscure Sultan Muhammad Nur.” The binding of brown leather, embossed and gilded, gives an impression of quiet richness and elegance and is an example of the rare skill of the craftsman in gold- tooled leather. 1

1 Sec H. A. Gardner, Understanding the Arts, Harcourt, Brace, 1932, pp. 253 ff., for a de- scription and illustrations of this book.

METALWORK, POTTERY,

TEXTILES

The tradition of the metalworker, as has been said, is very old in the Valley of the Two Rivers and seems never to have ceased in spite of the rise and fall of dynasties and the influence of foreign invaders. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, after a period of suppression at the hands of orthodox Muslims, there appears to have been a revival of this work, probably due to the coming of the Tatars, who though converted to Islam still held but slight regard for its decrees. The center of the craft was near great copper mines at Mosul, from which it spread to other localities, ap- pearing in Egypt in such a work as a brass bowl (Fig. 295A), in which in- scriptions and arabesques furnished the motifs of decoration. In the Mosul products, however, figure work is an important element, as we see in a ewer (Fig. 306A) in which the figures of men, animals, and birds in hunting, fighting, and feasting scenes are inlaid in silver on an engraved brass ground. On the silver also were engraved details such as features, drapery, plumage of the birds, and manes of the horses, so that the effect of the contrasting metals and the delicate chasing is one of rich splen- dor.

Behind the products of the ceramist, as of the metalworker, lay a long tra- dition, including ceramic wall decora- tion on a large scale as well as the more usual smaller products. And as the former made the walls of mosques and palaces glow with color, so the latter provided accents of texture and color to the interior. For shape and color were the potter’s objective, and to its realization he brought a spontaneity and an ease of expression based upon an innate sensitivity and a technical ability handed down from generations. In short, these Persian potters were

PERSIAN ART

307

[a] Rhages {Ray or Rayy ) Bowl Showing a Court Scene. 13th cent. Metropolitan Mu- seum of Art , New York City. {Metropolitan Museum)

[b] Lustered Rhages {Ray or Rayy). c. 1200. Metropolitan Museum of Art , New York City). {Metropolitan Museum)

master ceramic designers. Their shapes — bowls, cups, bottles, pitchers, plates, jars — are usually true clay shapes, not sharply precise like metal, and their decorations in every detail relate to the shape. The vital lines and contours are in perfect harmony with and in purposeful contrast to the rim of a plate (Fig. 307B) or to the curving surface of a pitcher; and all appear to be dashed on the surface spontaneously and with great ease, yet with a perfect conviction of their exact rightness.

The coarse base of most of this pot- tery required a slip or coat of opaque enamel to provide a surface for the painting. In the Rhages (Ray ) 1 bowl (Fig. 307A) the ground is turquoise- blue, on which are painted in many colors, with dull red and blue pre- dominating, and a little gold, a sultan, on his throne with courtiers on each side and seated figures in the surround-

1 So called from the city of Rhages, near Teheran, a great center of pottery-making, and one of the most splendid cities of Persia before its destruction by Jenghiz Khan in the thirteenth century.

ing compartments. About the rim runs a Kufic inscription, and on the outside, in cursive hand: “Glory, triumph, power and happiness, generosity and safety, to the owner.” Many of the jars and plates have a creamy glaze with decorations in a soft brown that has a peculiarly fleeting charm when covered, as it often is, by a transparent luster. For then, viewed at a certain angle, there appears an iridescence of violet, dull gold, and copper. Move slightly, and the sparkling color disappears. Thus is produced a subtle, evanescent form of decoration highly suggestive of the joy of the passing hour. There is none of the sobriety of Egypt or China, or of the intellectuality of Greece, but rather the restless joy of Minoan art. Delight in the happiness of the present hour expresses itself in the sparkling, fleeting beauty of the luster vases.

In the Rhages bowl (Fig. 307A) one notes that the faces are Chinese in type; and in other examples we find motifs (phoenixes, peonies, and scrolls) and color schemes of Chinese origin. Persian shahs and nobles imported

3°8

MEDIEVAL ART

Chinese porcelain, which their cera- mists succeeded in imitating. Yet the Persian potter, like other Persian artists, was able to assimilate these influences from the Far East and to produce a unique fabi'ic that ranks among the world’s finest.

This pottery was an aristocratic art, and like the books and many of the fine carpets was produced under royal pa- tronage. Carpets, however, were pecul- iarly expressive of the people as a whole. The land itself produced all the necessary materials, and the need of

[a] Ardebil Carpet. Detail. Wool. 34^ x iyi ft.

mosaue of his familv at ArdehiL Victoria and Albert Museum. London. ( Victoria

museum) ± ne inscription at me oouom oj me jieta reads:

“/ have no refuge in the world other than thy threshold;

There is no place of protection for my head other than this door.

The work of the slave of the threshold, Maqsud of ' Kashan in the year gg6 (a.d. 1540).”

PERSIAN ART

309

[a] Wool Animal Rug . Detail c. 1520-30. Metropolitan Museum of Art. New fork City. ( Metropolitan Museum )

protection against the winter cold made them indispensable both in the nomad shepherd’s tent and in the shah’s palace. And in each case the intimate relation of the carpet to its makers and to its function determined its design, as we realize in comparing a small shepherd rug of bold primitive pattern with the huge royal carpets of subtle richness. In the houses and palaces of Persia, built of brick, stone, plaster, and glazed

tile, the carpets contributed a contrast- ing texture as floor and divan coverings and wall hangings.

Carpet-weaving was an inherited craft among the Persians, attained through generations of effort. Many a pattern, or perhaps the secret of making a particularly fine dye, was handed down from father to son. The wool was obtained from the sheep which grazed on the mountainsides of this rugged

MEDIEVAL ART

310

country; and the dyes, few in number, from plants.

The success of a Persian carpet re- sults from color massing and texture. The royal Ar debit Carpet (Fig. 308A), a large example of the medallion type, depends for its effectiveness upon a simple massing of large elements of design enhanced by a wealth of sub- ordinated detail. These main elements are the single unifying tone of the field, the central and corner medallions, and the finishing borders. The field is a rich blue and is covered with leaves and flowers (chiefly peonies, a Chinese influence) attached to a framework of delicate stems which weave a spiral de- sign over the whole field. The central medallion is of yellow, surrounded by small oval panels of yellow, red, and green, from one of which is suspended a mosque lamp; quarter-sections of this medallion group fill the corners. The broad border has alternating medallions of red and yellow on a deep-purple ground; the narrow borders make a happy transition from field to border.

In the Ardebil Carpet there are no human or animal figures, since it was made for a mosque; but another car- pet (Fig. 309A) from Ardebil illustrates how the Persian weavers used the ani- mal form. Lions and other animals are attacking spotted gazelles while boars are running rapidly away; other ani- mals and various flowers fill the field; and Chinese cloud banks carry a rapid movement in the border. All these forms, whether flora or fauna, show an extraordinary combination of simpli- fication with naturalism, for each can be clearly identified. The decorative pattern enabled the weaver to mass shapes and colors into an underlying abstract design whose movement is confined by the borders, each of which contains in its motifs rhythmic move- ments of varying tempo around the central field.

Technically, these great royal car- pets represent the work of a group of weavers, probably a group belonging to the court. Pile weaving is a slow process at best, and since a carpet like the Ardebil often has more than three hundred knots to the square inch, it would have taken one skilled weaver (ac- cording to an estimate) about twenty- four years to weave such a carpet — an unthinkable length of time for a shah to wait.

SUMMARY

Scale and monumentally mark the buildings of the Sassanian Persians; dynamic vitality, their sculpture; and virile strength, their fine textile designs. Islamic Persian art in all its manifesta- tions — the mosque, the carpet, the illuminated page, the Rhages bowl, in- laid metal — reveals its delight in the massing of color to obtain brilliant ef- fects. It delights in the flat pattern sug- gested by human, animal, or plant form as an element of decorative power, as is evident in the hastily sketched figures on the pottery, in the silhouettes of the slender-legged horses that dash across the pages of the manuscripts, in the flat swaying palm trees, in the in- finitely varied flowers of the rugs, and in the inscriptions of silver that shine forth from a dark metal ground. Nor are there, in this art, profound abstract expressions. It is rather a frank re- flection of a life of luxury, splendor, and romance, delighting in the pleas- ures of the present — lively, joyous, worldly, and transitory. It is the spirit of Omar Khayyam expressed by the potter, the weaver, and the metal- worker. Influences from all directions converged upon Persia, where great highways crossed. But the Iranians, always successful in assimilating foreign elements, preserved their identity and traditions. Though they accepted the

PERSIAN ART

mosque from the Muslims, they used their traditional materials and con- structional methods, and made it color- ful by sheathing all its surfaces with their traditional glazed tile. For their palaces they produced equally colorful pottery and. carpets; and to lighten their leisure, some of the most beauti- fully written and illustrated books ever made. The meeting of the Far East and the Near East is evident in the Chinese motifs found in the carpets and in the Mongolian types and motifs seen in the pottery and miniatures. These influ- ences, however, were absorbed into a truly Muhammadan Persian type of expression.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Arnold, Sir Thomas Walker, Painting in Islam , Oxford University Press, 1938 Binyon, Laurence, Wilkinson, J. V, S., and Gray, Basil, Persian Miniature Painting , Ox- ford University Press, 1933 Blochet, Edgar, Musulman Painting, Xlllh-XVIIth Century , tr. by G. M. Binyon, London, 1939 Bode, Wilhelm von, Antique Rugs from the Near East, tr. by R. M. Riefstahl, 3d ed. rev., Weyhe, 192a

Dimand, Maurice S., A Guide to an Exhibition of Islamic Miniature Painting and Book Illumina- tion, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1933

Firdausi, The Shah-namah, described by J. V. S.

Wilkinson, Oxford University Press, 1931 Gray, Basil, Persian Painting, London, 1930 Hannover, Emil, Pottery & Porcelain, 3 vols., Scribner, 1925

Hawley, Walter A., Oriental Rugs, Antique and Modern, new ed., Tudor, 1937

311

Jackson, Abraham V. W., Persia Past and Present, Macmillan, 1906

Kendrick, Albert F., Catalogue of Muhammadan Textiles of the Medieval Period, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1924

— — and Tattersall, C. E. G., Fine

Carpets in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1924

KcEchlin, Raymond, and Migeon, Gaston, Oriental Art: Ceramics , Fabrics, Carpets , tr. by Florence Heywood, Macmillan, 1928 Martin, Fredrik R., The Miniature Painting and Painters of Persia , India, and Turkey, 2 vols., London, 1912

Mayer, Leo A., Saracenic Heraldry, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1933

Mumford, John K., Oriental Rugs, rev. ed., Scribner, 1915

Nizami, Ganjavi, The Poems of Nizami, described by Laurence Binyon, Studio, 1928 Persian Fresco Paintings, American Institute for Persian Art and Archaeology, 1932 Pope, Arthur U., An Introduction to Persian Art since the Seventh Century A.D., Scribner, 1931

— : — Masterpieces of Persian Art, Dryden

Press, 1945

— - — and Ackerman, Phyllis, eds., A Survey of Persian Art from Prehistoric Times to the Present, 6 vols., Oxford University Press, 1938-39

Ross, Sir Edward Denison, ed., and others, Per • sian Art, London, 1930

Sarre, Friedrich P. T., and Trenkwald, Her- mann, Old Oriental Carpets, tr. by A. F. Kendrick, a vols., Vienna, 1926-29 Tattersall, Greassey E. C., Notes on Carpet- Knotting and Weaving, rev. ed., Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1933 Victoria and Albert Museum, Brief Guide to the Persian Woven Fabrics, Museum, London,

1922

Guide to the Collection of Carpets,

with an introduction by A. F. Kendrick, 3d ed. rev., Museum, London, 1931 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

MEDIEVAL ART

’ry^m

[a] Church at Moissac. Tympanum of the south portal, c. uoo. Contrast , in style, with the tympanum of Fig. 321A. (Giraudon)

17

ROMANESQUE ART

(ABOUT A.D. 500-1150)

"I A 7 HILE the long-continued Byzan- chaos the elements that were to form

V V tine tradition was following a the foundation of western Europe were

more or less unbroken course in the meeting and mingling — Roman, bar-

Near East, chaos ruled in the West from barian, and Christian. Rome, through

about a.d. 500 to 1000. Through the its provincial system, had built cities

close relations of Constantinople with over a large part of western Europe,

Venice and Ravenna, and through connecting them by magnificent roads,

trade and pilgrimages, especially the and there had established its customs

Crusades, interchange was constantly and culture. In swept waves of bar- bringing Byzantine and Far Eastern barians, illiterate but of the fresh, vig-

ideas westward. During this period of orous blood of the North. In their new

ROMANESQUE ART

environment they continued to govern by tribal methods instead of accepting Roman law; and when this law ceased, and with it order — for their kings were usually powerless — a natural outcome was feudalism, because people of neces- sity bound themselves to anyone who could provide some measure of safety from the dangers and outrages of the times.

The one power to remain strong was the Christian Church. It was steadily perfecting its organization and increas- ing both its spiritual and its temporal power. At the head of each unit of its organization stood the bishop, who lived in the largest city of his diocese. In the church of this city was the bishop’s chair, called the cathedra. Hence his church was known as the cathedral. As feudalism was the dominant system, the bishop became practically a feudal baron. With the increase of its power and wealth, the Church was weakened by elements of decay, and in protest against its degradation arose the monas- tery. This institution, with its triple vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience, had originated in. the East; it was intro- duced into Italy by Saint Benedict in 526, and thence spread rapidly over western Europe. At the head stood the abbot, and his church was known as the abbey church.

In Figure 315A we see the plan of a typical monastery of the period. Near the center, dominating the group, is the abbey church, of basilican type with an apse at either end and a cloister at one side. About it arc grouped the living-quarters, the bakehouse, store- rooms, shops for the goldsmith, the blacksmith, the fuller, and other crafts- men, gardens and cattle yards, hospitals and schools — • a complete commu- nity in itself where daily needs were supplied without communication with the outside world. As a protection against robbers and feudal barons, some

monasteries were surrounded by a for- tified wall. Thus the monastery was much more than a church. In it cen- tered most of the learning of these centuries, for it was the industrious monks who kept alive whatever ancient culture had survived. It was, in fact, church, school, library, and hospital all in one; furthermore, it was the steady- ing hand throughout this whole forma- tive period.

With the exception of the large cities, which could withstand the attacks of the barbarians, there were few towns up to about the year 1000. The people lived in rural communities, and were attached, practically as serfs, to the es- tate of some feudal lord, abbot, or bishop. Because of the dangers of travel, there was little intercommunication or commerce. But the members of feudal society — the lord, the bishop, and the abbot — were far from secure in their positions. There was constant warfare. The strife between the bishops and the abbots, who were jealous of each other’s power, added to the turmoil.

The one brilliant spot in the early part of this period was the reign of Charlemagne, when for a short time order was restored, education and learning were revived, and the arts were stimulated. But after his death Europe descended to its lowest level, and even the Church sank to deepest degradation, from which it was ulti- mately rescued through the influence of such monasteries as that of Cluny, which was established in 909 and for two hundred years served as the spir- itual guide of Europe.

About the year 1000 a new spirit be- gan to infuse Europe. We hear of up- risings against the feudal barons, the establishment of towns, the opening- up of communication, the organization of trade guilds, and the growth of commerce. Religious faith developed into a religious enthusiasm of great

MEDIEVAL ART

3i4

vitality. This culminated in the First Crusade, which, though participated in by many for the sake of adventure, was nevertheless an indication of the religious faith of the age. This new spirit caused a vigorous artistic ac- tivity which swept all Europe. 1

Universities and schools of learning were founded. The various vernaculars were becoming mediums of literary ex- pression. The troubadours were sing- ing their songs at the gay feudal courts of southern France, while the Song of Roland and the legends of the Grail were stirring men with the ideal of chivalry.

Thus while five centuries were years of chaos, during which the different basic, elements were fusing, the eleventh and twelfth centuries were the early flowering of this fusion, a powerful archaic age with institutions and art forms centered in the monastery and the feudal court, peculiarly expressive of the entire outlook of the age as well as a prelude to the full flowering of medieval culture in the Gothic age.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

As the monastery was the predomi- nating power during the Romanesque period, it is chiefly the abbey church that furnishes examples of building and sculpture. In fact, with its furnishings and equipment, it illustrates the entire range of the arts, as does the mosque in Islamic art. Before the year 1000 there was little building, as the barba- rians were incapable of it and the Latins inactive in it because of the dis- order. But the new spirit discernible about that year was an incentive to church-building.

1 Note that this synchronizes with the second Byzantine Golden Age; and it now seems prob- able that not only the stimulation but also many of the forms in building, sculpture, and other arts are directly attributable to the East.

In studying the architecture of the Romanesque period, one important fact must always be kept in mind: Very little remains in its original con- dition; there are few structures with no additions or restorations of a later period. Another important fact is that the architecture is not homogeneous, but manifests itself differently in dif- ferent parts of Europe. Hence we shall look at a few examples in several coun- tries, beginning with Italy.

In the sixth century the Po Valley had been occupied by the Lombards, whose name to this day designates this part of Italy. Of the buildings that they erected in the eleventh century, the most important is San? Ambrogio (Fig. 3 1 6a) . It is a plain building, with an un- broken sloping roof which shows that there is no clerestory. The facade, which is approached through an atrium, consists of a two-storied arcade flanked on either side by a sturdy square tower. The decoration consists of a corbel table along the cornices and on the tower. The whole design is one of dignity, with no suggestion of elabo- ration, and is saved from heaviness by its reserved decoration.

The plan (Fig. 338A2) shows a Chris- tian basilica without a transverse aisle. Now the early Christian basilica had a wooden roof, which the builders real- ized was neither permanent nor fire- proof. Hence a central problem of the Middle Ages was to roof over the basil- ica with a vault. This means two things — • to construct the vault and to sup- port it adequately. The Romans had constructed great barrel and groin vaults (Figs. 174A, 1 79 a) that rested upon massive walls heavy enough to withstand the thrust of the vault. The Byzantine builders preferred a domi- cal vault on pendentives (Figs. 26oAa, 26 1 a) and the Persians, a domical vault on squinches (Fig. 26oAb) . The Byzan- tine type, though found in western Eu-

[a] Monastery of St, Gall. Switzerland. Plan , drawn from a manuscript. The various ac- tivities indicated here constitute a complete social unit. {Porter, Medieval Architecture, Tale University Press)

rope , 1 did not appeal to the medieval builders so much as did the basilica.

Let us see how this problem is met in Sant 9 Ambrogio. As we look at the nave (Fig. 317A) we see that instead of carrying a long barrel vault it is divided into sections, or bays, by trans- verse arches or ribs; and that each bay is covered by a groin vault with four diagonal ribs built along the lines of the groins. Why are these ribs here, and of what value are they in the construc- tion of the building?

In building a barrel or a groin vault, a large amount of centering — wooden scaffolding to hold the vault during its erection — is necessary. Soon the builders discovered that by separating the long barrel vault into bays by trans-

1 St, Mark's, Venice, and Angoulem and Pirigueux, France are examples.

verse arches, they could vault one sec- tion at a time, thus economizing on the centering. Next they noticed that these arches offered a convenient ledge on which to rest the vaulting; and then it occurred to them that it would be equally convenient to build ribs diag- onally across each bay, following the lines of the groins and intersecting at the crown, on which to rest the four sections of the vault. Thus they dis- covered that they could erect a skele- ton of ribs to support the vaulting which could be made of much lighter material than that used in a barrel or a groin vault without ribs, and hence afford much greater freedom in con- struction. In fact, the application of the rib vault to the roofing of a basilica was the greatest constructional discovery of the Middle Ages. The builders now had

316

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] San? Ambrogio. Milan. Early 12th cent. A rare example of the sur- vival of the atrium. ( Ali - nari)

the means of lightening and raising the skeleton framework; two hundred years later, it reached the majestic height of the nave of the Gothic cathedral (Fig. 345 a). But they were not guided by the structural problem alone. With a sen- sitiveness to design, they appreciated the rhythm and the decorative effect of the ribs. Compare, for example, the heaviness and barrenness of the barrel vault with the lightness, rhythm, and emotional uplift of the Gothic nave.

We have now studied the principles on which the vault in San? Ambrogio was constructed. Let us see how it is sup- ported. In Figure 31 7 a, it will be noticed that the transverse arch springs from a pilaster rising from the floor; the diagonal rib, from an engaged column also rising from the floor; the longitu- dinal rib that encloses the double arcade separating the nave and aisle, from a thin pilaster; and the smaller arches; of the arcade, from pilasters or engaged columns. That is, each rib of the skele- ton frame of the vault is supported by a member rising either from the floor or from the second story, all of which

unite to form a compound or clustered pier.

These piers, however, are not ade- quate of themselves to support the weight of the roof. Gross walls are built over the transverse arches of the aisles at right angles to the clustered pier, where the thrust of the vault is con- centrated (Fig. 340A2). These, together with the vaulted aisles, carry the thrust to the outer thick walls, which in turn are reinforced by pier buttresses at the points where the cross walls meet them. Thus while we have in San? Ambrogio a structural principle worked out for constructing the vaults, we still have the heavy walls for buttressing them. How this latter problem was met, we shall see later in France.

San? Ambrogio is important, therefore, because it is an early example of rib vaulting and clustered pier. These in- novations, however, did not appear at once. The rib was known to the Ro- man and to builders in the Near East, and possibly its use was a rediscovery rather than a discovery. First these principles were tried out timidly in the

ROMANESQUE ART

[a] San? Ambrogio. Nave. ( Alinari )

aisles, then finally some courageous builder ventured to apply them in the nave. Even here at San? Ambrogio timidity is seen in the fact that there is no clerestory, as if the builder did not dare raise the ribs high enough to allow for that. Hence the interior is low and dark.

These important structural innova- tions, however, did not develop further in Italy. The Lombards themselves were perhaps too much embroiled in political strife to continue a develop- ment so splendidly begun, and builders in general seemed to be more interested in mitigating the rugged austerity of the basilica by means of decorative ele- ments. These elements were: porches with sculptured decorations; open ar- cadings; brickwork and contrasting light and dark stone; and marble inlays. It Was chiefly in northern Italy, in the Cathedral of Modena , for example, that

we see a successful attempt to enliven the plain fa5ade by open arcades and by the addition of a porch, with sculp- ture about the doorways. All of this not only accents the entrance but, with its projections and recessions and broken surfaces, creates a pattern of light and dark and infuses movement into the design. Recumbent lions serve as bases for the columns (a common motif in medieval art), and reliefs representing scenes and characters as various as those in actual life — Biblical and legendary scenes, romantic and military, imagina- tive monsters, and everyday people in- tertwined with foliate spiralings — are carved on pilasters and arches and on the capitals of the interior. AH this orna- ment is filled with a spirit of great energy and vitality and is carved in a consistently clear manner in rather low relief. In these portals, sculpture as a major art began to revive.

318

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] San Miniato. Flor- ence. Fagade of marble inlay and mosaic. Begun 1013. ( Alinari )

[b] St. PauVs Outside the Walls . Rome. Detail of the cloister. (Anderson)

Arcadings as a decorative element were used more elaborately in the Cathedral of Pisa, a basilica with vault- ing over the aisles and a small dome over the crossing, but with a wooden roof over the nave. The group as a whole — cathedral, campanile, and baptistery (chiefly Gothic) — impresses one with its splendor when compared with the more rugged Sand Ambrogio. Blind arcades with colored marbles fill the ground story, and open arcadings, subtly irregular in height and spacing, the stories above. 1 It is not surprising to find arcading on many of the Italian churches, for this was one of the most characteristic elements of Roman archi- tecture, and the numerous examples of it in Italy could hardly fail to impress the Northerners and to suggest to them its use as a means of impressive decora- tion. The campanile (the famous

1 See Ruskin’s detailed analysis in his Seven Lamps of Architecture.

ROMANESQUE ART

[a] Marble Inlay on the Fagade of San Michele. Lucca.

“Leaning Tower”) repeats the decora- tive scheme of the cathedral.

This external embellishment and at- tention to proportions transformed the campanile from the almost unbroken cylinder at Sant Apollinare in Classe (Fig. 254A) into the generally rectangular (at Pisa, round) towers, still free-stand- ing, lightened by openings, and en- livened by moldings and colored inlays which are one of the most stirring forms in Italy in their fine balance between solidity and grace.

In central Italy, notably in Tuscany, open arcadings and sculptured door- ways tend to disappear in favor of a one-plane facade encrusted with marble inlays of a severely geometric sym- metrical pattern, chiefly angular even when enclosed by arches, as we see in SanMiniato (Fig. 3 1 8a) and the Baptistery of Florence. In the Cathedral of San Michele at Lucca (Fig. 319A), however, we find a combination of Romanesque decorative elements : contrasting courses of light and dark stone; and open ar- cadings, whose shadows effectively set forth the rhythmic movement of the arches, which holds together the almost

fantastic richness of minor elements in columns, capitals, and inlays. Each column and each capital is different in design, and the spandrels are filled in a lively fashion with geometric, animal, and imaginative figures.

Marble inlay was carried into the in- terior of these buildings also, and forms a contrasting note to the gaily colored wooden-beamed ceilings above. Floors as well as walls were Covered with marble, but with a greater variety of design than that found on the exterior, including both animal and geometric forms. Some of these — especially the bird or animal figures enclosed in cir- cles-— closely resemble the textiles of the Near East. The spiral flutings found in the colonnettes of such a cloister as that of St. John Lateran or St. Paul's Outside the Walls { Fig. 3 1 8b), repeating the inlaid surfaces above, lend a note of shimmering richness to the court. These cloisters constitute one of the most charming elements of the Roman- esque building.

Farther south, especially in Rome, interior marble inlays take the more elaborate and more colorful patterns

320

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Pulpit Decorated in Cosmati Work . ■Ravelin, 13th cent. ( Alinari )

that are known as Cosmati work. 1 Altar fronts, pulpits (Fig. 320A), and candela- bra are sumptuously decorated with a design composed of squares or circles of red porphyry or green serpentine sur- rounded by borders, frequently inter- lacing, made up of small pieces of marble and glass cut into various shapes.

The richly colorful quality of Cos- mati work rises to greater resplendence in Sicily. This island, at the crossroads of conquerors, had been Occupied by Greeks, Romans, Lombards, Muslims, and Normans. The last-named accom- plished the remarkable feat of assimi- lating these various cultural elements, so that Sicily, like Spain, became a great center of learning, with Islamic scientists and Greek scholars, Christian and Muslim, equally patronized by the court. The Cathedral of Monreale in- corporates these diversified elements.

1 So called from the Cosmati family in Rome, Who were particularly skillful in this technique.

In the nave, the floor and lower part of the walls are covered with marbles, above which the walls are entirely in- crusted with Byzantine mosaics which culminate in the magnificent Pan- tocrator in the apse. Columns with Corinthian capitals support Islamic stilted and pointed arches. Yet all these diversified elements are blended into a resplendent unity. On the exterior of the apse the interlacing arcades sound a note of Normandy.

In France, the southern part of the country had been thoroughly Latin- ized by the Romans. Flourishing cities existed at Nimes, Arles, and Orange, whose theaters, arches, temples, and baths could not but influence the medi- eval builders. We see their influence in the churches of St. Gilles (Card) and St. Trophime (Arles). In plan St. Trophime is basilican with a cloister, as is usual in abbey churches. It is roofed with a barrel vault, as are the covered passages of the cloister. This plan and construc- tional system, with variations, is com- mon in southern and central France as in the Madeleine (Vezelay), which has transverse arches with groin vaulting. Other plans and constructional sys- tems are illustrated by St. Front (Peri- gueux), the central type with the Greek cross roofed with domes on pendentives; and by St. Pierre (Angouleme), basilican in plan, and roofed with a series of domes.

To return to St. Trophime, the faqade (Fig. 321 a) reveals the basilica type with nave, clerestory, and lower side aisles, and is quite barren except for the richly carved portal. Above the plain base runs a broad band of decoration, with columns resting on the backs of lions or grotesques, and with statues of saints in niches tied together by a continuous frieze. Above the door a sculptured tympanum surrounded by concentric, slightly pointed arches breaks the upper part and accents the

ROMANESQUE ART

321

[a] St. Trophime. Arles. Portal. 12th cent.

entrance; a bracketed cornice parallel to the roof finishes the design. Thus the builder divided his space effectively, concentrating his ornament on the central band like a piece of embroidery on a plain garment, and setting it off by the contrasting plain surfaces about it and by the vigorous arches above the door. A closer inspection of the de- tails shows that the brackets of the cor- nice, the Corinthian capitals, the fluted pilasters, the acanthus, and the fret are classical; the figures in the niches, the tympanum, and the friezes are related stylistically to Byzantine ivories and

■ miniatures.

In the tympanum is the seated figure of Christ, surrounded by an aureole, one hand holding a book, the other raised in blessing. About him are grouped the four beasts of the Apocalypse,

which symbolize the four Evangelists — the winged man, Saint Matthew; the winged lion, Saint Mark; the winged ox, Saint Luke; and the eagle, Saint John. On the lintel below are the twelve Apostles, seated; to the left are the blessed going to heaven; to the right, the damned, chained together and being led to hell. The representation of Christ surrounded by the symbolic beasts had already become a con- ventional representation in Christian art and is found very frequently, not only over the doorways of the churches but in the illuminated manuscripts, the ivories, and the enamels. For art in the Middle Ages was subject to the author- ity of the Church. As in Byzantine art, certain subjects must be represented in a certain way and placed in a certain position on the building, and the au-

322

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] St. Peter. On the jamb of the south portal of the church at Moissac (Fig. 31 2 a). Contrast with the static figures of Fig. 321 a.

thorized use of symbols and attributes must be strictly followed. Yet while the medieval sculptor or painter was limited by convention, he could use his individual imagination to a surprising extent.

To illustrate this let us look at the south portal at Moissac (Fig. 31 2 a), which consists of a vestibule covered by a barrel vault, with both doorway and sides richly carved. In the tympanum we find the same subject and the same general arrangement as at St. Trophime, except for the addition of angels and of the twenty-four elders arranged in zones below and on each side of the central group. But at Moissac the figures are filled with life and movement; they are even twisting and writhing; the draperies flutter, and the elders strain their necks toward the figure of Christ. Thus, while the subject matter, the

arrangement of the figures, and such details as the attributes are the same in both, yet the feeling is diametrically opposed. St. Trophime is tranquil and static, with all parts harmoniously re- lated and balanced. Moissac is energetic and dynamic, with forceful oppositions in the movement surging through; the lower relief has a lineal quality (a mark of Northern art) peculiarly fitted in its dynamic rhythms to express the fervor of the Northerners, and for the sake of which the figures are twisted and distorted. A comparison of the St. Peter (Fig. 322A) on the doorjamb with one of the saints of Si. Trophime will illustrate the difference, though in both styles the forms are archaic, and the drapery, clouds, hair, and other details are expressed by conventions with a linear beauty which adds to their deco- , rativeness. 1

At Angouleme (Fig. 323A) the sculp- ture, instead of being concentrated at the portal, is more widely spread over the surfaces and, with the blind arcadings, enriches the broad unbroken surfaces and at the same time, because it is carved in the actual masonry, retains a unity with it. Angoulime , like most Romanesque churches, is solid, firmly rooted, and presents a picturesque mass- ing of volumes — a rectangular basilica, domes, and a bell tower which is in- corporated into the structure rather than free-standing, as in Italy.

Romanesque ornament (Figs. 319A, 325A, 326B) is always spirited, in- finitely varied, and highly decorative. On the lintel of the doorway of Moissac (Fig. 312A) we see, at each end of the lintel, a chimeralike creature from the East, out of Whose mouth issue cords that enclose finely carved rosettes, all slightly different and unequally spaced. Fantasy manifests itself particularly in

1 See Jurgis BaltruSaitis, La Stylistique Orna- mentale dans la Sculpture Romane, Paris, 1931, for analyses of Romanesque tympani.

ROMANESQUE ART 323

the ‘‘storied capitals,” where characters from the Bible, and creatures of the imagination, centaurs, and hunters — many of Eastern origin — find a place, often intertwined with scrolls and foliage. Strikingly effective are many of the Romanesque recessed portals, about which was concentrated much of the decorative carving. We note in par- ticular that all this carving is an inte- gral part of the stone capital or the stone masonry. In fact it is the stone, with its original surface retained but enlivened by the vigorous carving of conventional motifs of a calligraphic character organized into a highly deco- rative pattern.

Romanesque architecture and sculp- ture in Spain are similar to those of southern France, largely because of the famous pilgrimage route to the shrine of Saint James the Great at Santiago de Compos tella, along which art concep- tions and forms, if not actual copies, were conveyed by the pilgrims and by the traveling builders and craftsmen. 1 But the style was first modified by climatic conditions. Roofs were flatter and windows fewer, even to the sup- pression of the clerestory to dim the strong light of the Southlands. In the second place, the presence of the Moors and the rich exuberance of their orna- ment influenced the carvers toward a more abundant, complex expression. This is evident in Santiago (Compostella) and in San Isidoro (Leon) .

Turning to northern France, we re- call that this part of the country had been occupied by the Normans, who, like the other barbarians, had no no- table arts of their own. Furthermore, the dwellers in northern France, unlike those in the southern part of the coun-

1 See A. K. Porter, Romanesque Sculpture of the Pilgrimage Roads, 10 vols., Marshall Jones, 1923, pp. 1 71 fif., for a discussion of the pil- grimage as one of the most vivid and influential institutions of the Middle Ages.

[a] St. Pierre. Angouleme. 1105-28. Note the domical vaulting. See p. 3 15, note 1.

try, had no large Roman cities to teach them. Their own accomplishment, in which they were probably aided by builders from Lombardy who settled there, is illustrated by the Abbaye-aux- Hommes (Fig. 324A). The first impression of the church, as we think of St. Tro- phime and Angouleme, is its plainness and its rugged vigor. We notice that the fagade with its two flanking square towers is divided into three vertical sections separated by pilaster buttresses and emphasized by a triple doorway, indicating a triple division of the in- terior — a nave and two side aisles; the doorways and two rows of windows indicate that the structure is three stories high. We notice also the almost entire lack of decoration except the arcading in the upper stories of the towers. There is no monumental por- tal; no figure sculpture.

As we look at the interior (Fig. 324B) we realize that here is something that

MEDIEVAL ART

[b] A bbaye-aux-Hommes (St. Etienne). Nave. Vaulting constructed c. 1135.

[a] Abbaye-aux-Hommes (St. Etienne ) . Caen. 1064-77. The spires were added in the 12 th and 13th cent.

we have not seen since we left Sant * Ambrogio in Milan (Fig. 317A). There is a similarity in the principles of struc- ture, such as the ribbed vaulting, the division of the nave into bays, and the clustered pier. On the other hand, there is a distinctive difference in the height of the vaults. At Sant ’ Ambrogio , in his timidity the builder omitted the clere- story; in the Abbaye-aux-Hommes the dar- ing Norman had the courage to add it and thus to obtain both height and light . 1

Let us see how the Norman buttressed his vaults. A cross section of this abbey

1 The present vaults of the Abbaye-aux- Hommes are later than the original roof, but the arrangement of the piers indicates that the original plan must have been on the Lombard principle.

(Fig. 340A3) shows us that the principle adopted was similar to that of Sand Ambrogio (Fig. 340A2) ; that is, the heavy vaults and cross walls of the aisles are strong enough to hold the nave vault- ing. But in the Abbaye-aux-Hommes > in- stead of a complete barrel vault over the aisle, a half-barrel vault springs from the outer wall to abut on the nave wall. Here it is evident that the builders realized that the thrust from the nave vaults was not equally distributed along the entire length of the nave wall, but concentrated at the points where the ribs converged; that is, at the clustered piers. Hence it followed in their understand- ing that much of the half-barrel but- tressing vault was unnecessary; so when they built a neighboring church, the Abbaye-aux-Dames , they cut away, as it

ROMANESQUE ART

325

were, the unnecessary parts, leaving those sections only that abutted on the nave wall where the piers stood, and thus created a rudimentary flying but- tress. But it was still concealed under the sloping roof of the aisle.

Thus in Normandy we find further development of the principles estab- lished at Sanf Ambrogio. The nave vaults have been lifted higher, admit- ting the clerestory as a means of light- ing; the principle of the flying buttress has been applied, making the whole structure much lighter; the triple facade, with its two flanking towers and triple portal, has become an acknowledgment of the internal structure. These prin- ciples, we shall see, reach their culmi- nation in the Gothic cathedral.

The Norman builders carried with them to England the principles evolved in northern France and there, usually in a picturesque setting, built massive, sturdy structures characterized by a heavy rectangular tower over the cross- ing, such as Durham Cathedral. Norman ornament, originating away from the highways of trade — which, as we have said, are always highways of ideas — was used at first very sparingly, and consisted of conventional motifs, among which the zigzag, with variants, was important. In England, the Norman builders produced some very delightful doorways, such as those at Iffley and Kilpeck (Fig. 325A). The thick Norman wall permitted a deeply recessed door- way, with a series of decorated shafts in the jambs and several orders of deco- rated arches surrounding the semi- circular tympanum.

In Germany, the Rhine Valley be- came an active center of building as well as of other arts, for the German has always been pre-eminent as a thorough craftsman. An abundance of excellent building stone led him early toward vaulted structures, although the great forests of Germany tempted him to

[a] Doorway of the Church at Kilpeck. 12th cent. ( The County Studio , Monmouth)

wooden roofs. The cities of the valley were strongly organized politically and economically, and had rapidly become a firm stronghold of Christianity, with many abbey churches, such as the Church of the Holy Apostles at Cologne (twelfth to thirteenth century), and cathedrals, such as Speyer (eleventh to twelfth century), Mainz (chiefly thir- teenth century), and Bamberg (Fig. 327A). As the Rhine Valley was one of the great trade routes between northern and southern Europe, close relations with Italy, especially Lombardy, are reflected in the fine vaultings based upon the Lombard system, and also in the exterior arcadings reminiscent of Pisa. These cathedrals show not only structural excellence, but a massive, picturesque appearance that results from the multiplicity of structural ele-

326

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Stave Church of Gal. 1000-1500. Now in the Bygdoe open air museum near Oslo.

ments boldly and interestingly grouped. For the apse and the towers are fre- quently used at both ends of the nave 1 ; a polygonal tower rises over the cross- ing and also at the west end of the nave. But when the apse is repeated, it de- prives the building of the spacious portals that so distinguish the facade designs of the French cathedrals.

Mention at least should be made of an individual variant of the Roman- esque basilica in another material, the stave churches of Norway (Fig. 326A). The wealth of timber in the forest- covered mountains of this land led to its almost exclusive, in fact prodigal, use in both secular and ecclesiastical

1 The reason for the double apsidal plan of the German Romanesque churches has not been satisfactorily explained.

building. With the coming of Chris- tianity about 1000 the basilica plan was adopted, a low enclosing passage, like an extended narthex, being added. The church was of solid timber con- struction, strong posts providing sup- port, with upright planks (staves) be- tween — a vertical timber construction in contrast to the horizontal used in secular buildings and in the wood architecture of northern Russia (Fig. 279A). Externally, the building empha- sizes verticality in its proportions and in its steep-pitched roofs. The additional passage affords not only ample gather- ing-space and protection for the sup- ports of the building against rain and snow, but also repeats the roofs above, and makes the building more compact and the base broader and more solid.

ROMANESQUE ART

327

About the portals the heavy timber is carved into low relief of great decora- tive beauty and of a peculiarly ' archi- tectural quality, for it is carved in practically two planes and retains an extraordinary feeling of identity with the doorpost (Fig. 326B). The designs are frequently very intricate, and combine natural, geometric, and zoomorphic motifs into linear patterns. The roof lines were made fantastic by affixing conventionalized dragon heads and tails — the same motifs that the Viking builders and carvers attached to the prows and the sterns of their ships.

PAINTING

Although great series of frescoes deco- rated the stretches of wall space in the Romanesque churches, they have al- most all disappeared , 1 2 so that very little can be determined concerning them, except that they show the same type of work that we see in the manu- scripts of the period, which therefore serve as the best criterion of Roman- esque painting.

The manuscripts, largely religious in subject — copies of the Bible, in whole or in part, prayer books, and liturgical books — were written in Latin.

A highly individual kind of illumination was that of the Celtic monks of Ireland and Britain, who had a preference for intricate initial letters that sometimes cover an entire page, as we see in the Quoniam page of the Book of Lindisfarne 2 (Fig. 3 28a). The circular

1 A considerable number of Romanesque paintings have been recovered from overpaint- ing and whitewash, especially in Italy and Spain. Easily accessible are the frescoes from the apse of Santa Maria de Mur, Catalonia, now in- stalled in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.

2 This page contains the Latin word Quoniam, with which the Gospel of Saint Luke begins. The Book of Lindisfarne is also known as Saint Cuth- bert's Gospels, because it was written in honor

of Saint Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne,

[a] Cathedral. Bamberg. 1185-1274. For the plan of a church with two apses see Fig. 315A. Compare with Figs. 323 A, 324A.

part of the Q,is decorated with particu- larly fine spirals; the motif of the all- over pattern filling the irregular space below is made by interlacing four birds. The stems of the letters and the borders are filled with spirals, interlacing birds, and elongated dogs, with dottings and delicate diaper patterns as a back- ground for the letters.

Perhaps the most famous of the Celtic books was the Book of Kells. 3 Some of its pages contain textual material with interlaced zoomorphs along the borders. Others are elaborately decorated With letters filled with various motifs —

3 The Book of Kells is a book of Gospels and miscellaneous matter that came from the monas- tery of Kells in Ireland. Records tell of a gold cover now lost.

328

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Qitoniam Page from, the Book of Lin- disfarne (St. CuthberPs Gospels) . H. 13% in. c. 700. British Museum , London. (British Museum)

some geometric, such as interlaced bands and knots, spiral and quatre- foil; others naturalistic, such as foliage, birds, reptiles, grotesques, and occa- sionally a human form. All are inter- woven with a facility, an intricacy, and a fine sweep of line that leave us as- tounded at the possibility of such exe- cution, and also at the vigor, the fancy, and the infinite variety found in one initial. Comparable with Celtic illu- mination in intricacy of design and delicacy of brush work are some of the Korans (Fig. 297B). But in compari- son with the latter, the Celtic work is more varied, more sweeping in its linealism, and more restrained in ef- fect because it employs almost no gold. And one should mention the fact that, like the Korans, these Celtic manu- scripts, in particular the Book of Kells , contain some of the most beautiful cal- ligraphy of the Middle Ages. The mo-

tive for the incredible patience and utter disregard of time which must have characterized these artist-monks is well epitomized in the colophon of the Book of Lindisfarne — “For the love of God and Saint Cuthbert.”

Important work was produced also at Canterbury, and particularly at Winchester, then the capital of Eng- land. Some of the illuminations are close to Byzantine models and some show an art of vigorous penwork with light washes of color, in which the fig- ures have the same twisting movements, elongations, energy, and linear decora- tiveness as those in the carvings at Moissac (Fig. 312A).

METALWORK, IVORY- CARVING, TEXTILES

As we looked at the ground plan of the monastery of St. Gall (Fig. 3 1 5 a) , we noticed that rooms or separate build- ings were provided for the various craftsmen, so that while some of the workers were clearing the land, plant- ing the gardens, and tending the cattle, others were carving ivory crosiers, shaping gold chalices and reliquaries, and decorating them with jewels and enamels; others were copying and illu- minating manuscripts, painting minia- tures to illustrate the text, and fashion- ing splendid covers for them of gold and silver, ivory, jewels, and enamel. The point of view of these monks, and the relation of their art to their religion, are seen in a treatise on painting, enam- eling, metalworking, and other crafts written by a monk named Theophilus in the eleventh or twelfth century. The prologue to the third book reads:

“David, that most excellent of proph- ets . . . collecting himself with all the attention of his mind to the love of his Creator, uttered this saying among others: ‘Lord I have loved the beauty of Thine house.’ And — albeit a man

ROMANESQUE ART

329

[a] Gospel Cover. Of oak covered with plates of gold set with enamels and \ stones . H. 10 in. 12th cent. Victoria and Albert Museum , London. {Vic- toria and Albert Museum)

l/AT t M ~ * H-‘ « !

xQL&Ul&j tH&A]

of so great authority and of so deep an understanding called this house the habitation of the court of 'heaven... yet it is certain that he desired the adornment of the material house of God, which is the house of prayer. ... Wherefore, most beloved son, make thou no long delay, but believe in full faith that the Spirit of God hath filled thine heart when thou hast adorned His house with so great beauty. . . . Work therefore now, good man, happy in this life before God’s face and man’s, and happier still in the life to come. . . . Kindle thyself to a still ampler art, and set thyself with all the might of thy soul to complete that which is yet lacking in the gear of the Lord’s house, without which the divine mysteries and the ministries of God’s service may not stand; such as chalices, candelabra,

thuribles, chrism-vases, crewets, shrines for holy relics, crosses, missals and such like, which the necessary use of the ecclesiastical order requireth. Which if thou wouldst fashion, begin after the manner thus following.” 1 This spirit of devotion and reverence not only per- meated the monastery but was basic in the social solidarity of the commu- nity as a whole.

It was “the adornment of the mate- rial house of God” that motivated the metalworkers and ivory-carvers also. Liturgical books were as sacrosanct as the vessels on the altar, and their covers equally sumptuous. In Figure 329A, the rich effect is obtained through the com-

1 Quoted by G. G. Coulton, A Medieval Garner , London, 191 0, p. x 66. See also A. P. Laurie, The Materials of the Painter's Craft in Europe and Egypt, Lippincott, 1911, p. 152.

330

MEDIEVAL ART

[ a ] Ardagh Chalice. Of silver, brass, and gilt bronze, with decoration in gold and silver filigree with enamels, blue glass, and amber. D. gb in. c. yoo. Royal Irish Acad- emy, Dublin. ( Royal Irish Academy)

bination of many materials. In the cen- ter panel is the figure of Christ, done in gold repousse, surrounded by a narrow border containing an inscrip- tion in cloisonne enamel in opaque white on a luminous blue ground. The wider border is decorated with a con- ventionalized floral pattern, and both borders are set with stones irregular in size, shape, and color. The broad outer border is made up of gold plaques deco- rated alternately with various jewels and with filagree and enamel. The shimmering gold, enhanced by the massing of color, the luminous blue of the enamel that is all the deeper be- cause of the opaque white and the rich color of the other stones, produce a richly decorative effect. Other covers were made entirely of carved ivory or of ivory surrounded by a gold and jeweled border.

Among the metalworkers — and they were many and important — the Celtic craftsman again produced individual work, in style akin to the illuminations, with regard for difference of medium. Brooches, staffs, and ecclesiastical ves- sels of all kinds were constructed of var- ious materials and decorated with

enamels, jewels, repousse, and filigree. The Ardagh Chalice (Fig. 330 a ), for ex- ample, is of a round bowl shape, with two handles, a short stem, and a broad base — a design of strength rather than of elegance. The rich ornamentation neither overloads nor interferes with the structural lines, being concentrated about the handles, on the two disks on the body of the chalice, and in the bor- ders that decorate the top and the foot. In the details we discern the spirals and the interlaced animal forms of the Book of Kells executed in gold and silver, worked both in repousse and in filigree of almost incredible finesse.

The bronzesmiths and ironworkers of Hildesheim in Germany were another group of great craftsmen. Their bronze church doors and candlesticks were famous for both their spirited designs and their masterly execution. 1

Fine textiles were in great demand for reliquaries and vestments, and those of the East were highly prized. The Mus- lims, always skilled weavers, had made Palermo famous as a weaving center

1 See the doors of St. Michael at Hildesheim, and the large Paschal candelabra at South Kensington, London, and in Milan.

ROMANESQUE ART

and thus not only introduced into West- ern manufacture Eastern design, but built up a lively traffic in fabrics to meet the demands of a West awakening to the luxuries of the East. This traffic was much accelerated by the Crusaders, who returned with whatever was port- able from their pilferings of Santa Sophia and other Eastern buildings.

SUMMARY

In every aspect of the Romanesque period we have observed enthusiasm, experimentation, accomplishment. Out of the chaos that marked the early part of the period order was emerging, largely through the steadying hand of the monastery. The barbarians, Chris- tianized, were going to school to the old traditions of the Mediterranean civilizations, but were transforming them with the fresh vitality of the North. North, South, and East were mingling.

^Romanesque was an ecclesiastical art and manifested itself differently in different countries. In architecture, in Italy it contributed to the revival and the advance of vaulting, and added decorative elements — arcadings, mar- ble inlays, and sculptured portals — to soften the austerity of the basilica. In southern France and in Spain, the builders erected solid, massive struc- tures, but laid still greater stress upon the sculpture at the portals, upon carvings about doors, windows, and on capitals. All of these were conven- tional in style, and of great decorative beauty as well as profound symbolic meaning. | In northern France, Ger- many, mid England interest again centered, as in Lombardy, on construc- tion. The need to furnish the “House of God” with worthy equipment led to making books with the finest callig- raphy, illustrations, and covers; and

vessels of gold, silver, ivory, and jewels. All this Northern expression is per- meated with a characteristic dynamic, highly decorative linealism.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

• Adams, Henry, Mont-Saint-Michel and Chartres, Houghton Mifflin, 1913
• Allen, John R., Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian Times, Jacobs, 1908
• Baltrusaitis, Jurgis, La stylistique ornementale dans la sculpture romane, Paris, 1931
• Baum, Julius, ed., Romanesque Architecture in France , 2d ed., Westermann, 1928
• Belloc, Hilaire, The Book of the Bayeux Tapestry, Putnam, 1914
• Clapham, Alfred W., English Romanesque Architecture after the Conquest, Oxford University Press, 1934
• English Romanesque Architecture before the Conquest, Oxford University Press, 1930
• Romanesque Architecture in Western Europe, Oxford University Press, 1936
• Coffey, George, Guide to the Celtic Antiquities of the Christian Period, Royal Irish Academy, ‘ Dublin, igio
• Coulton, George G., ed. and tr., A Medieval Garner, London, igio
• Cunynghame, Henry H. S., European Enamels, London, 1906
• Dawson, Edith B. (Mrs. Nelson), Enamels, McClurg, 1 91 1
• Focillon, Henri, L’art des sculpteurs romans, Paris, 1931

Hammett, Ralph W., The Romanesque Architec- ture of Western Europe, Architectural Book Publishing Company, 1927 Jackson, Sir Thomas Graham, Byzantine and Romanesque Architecture, 2d ed., 2 vols., University of Chicago Press, 1913. Jameson, Anna B. Murphy, Sacred and Legendary Art, 2 vols., Houghton Mifflin, c. 1911 Lethaby, William R., Mediteval Art, rev. ed,, Scribner, 1913

Maritain, Jacques, Art and Scholasticism, Scribner,

• 93 °

Markham, Violet R. (Mrs. James Carruthers), Romanesque France, Dutton, 1929 Maskell, Alfred O., Ivories, Putnam, 1905 Millar, Eric G., English Illuminaiea Manuscripts from the Xth to the XHIth Century, Paris, 1 926

English Illuminated Manuscripts of

the XIVth and XV th Centuries, Paris, 1928

— ed., The Lindisfarne Gospels, Oxford

University Pressi 1924

MEDIEVAL ART

332

Porter, Arthur K., Medieval Architecture, 2 vols., Yale University Press, 1915 Romanesque Sculpture of the Pil- grimage Roads, 10 vols., Marshall Jones,

1923

Ricci, Gorrado, Romanesque Architecture in Italy, Brentano, 1925

Robinson, Stanford F. H., Celtic Illuminative Art, Dublin, 1908

Saunders, O, Elfrida, A History of English Art in the Middle Ages, Oxford University Press,

1932

Strzygowski, Josef, Early Church Art in Northern

18

GOTHIC ART

(about a.d. 1150

T HE word "Gothic,” in the sense of "barbarian,” was a term of re- proach applied to medieval buildings by the architects of the Renaissance, who found their ideal in the architec- ture of Greece and Rome. The Gothic cathedral, however, is the highest ex- pression of an age that was vigorous in its civic life, intensely religious, and pro- foundly intellectual. Rising in the midst of the houses that huddled closely about it (Fig. 333 a), not only did it dominate the town, but it stood as a center for the activities of the people — all of whom it was large enough to hold when the whole town gathered for the Christ- mas or Easter celebration, or to see a mystery play. The market place, the shop, and the home were situated lit- erally in the shadow of the great church; and so interwoven were religious and secular activities that life presented a unified whole rather than the segrega- tions of modem times. Let us look at

Europe; with Special Reference to Timber Construction and Decoration, Harper, 1929

Sullivan, Sir Edward, The Book of Kells, Studio, 1914

Swartwout, Robert E., The Monastic Craftsman, Cambridge, Eng., 1932

Warner, Sir George Frederic, Illuminated Manu- scripts in the British Museum, ser. 1-3, Mu- seum, London, 1910

Whitehill, Walter M., Spanish Romanesque Archi- tecture, Oxford University Press, 1941

Zervos, Christian, V Art de la Catalogue, Paris, 1 937 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

1550)

some of the factors in the civilization which thus manifested itself.

Politically stronger kings, such as Philip Augustus (1180-1223) and Louis IX (Saint Louis; 1226-70) , were holding in check the feudal lords, though here and there such a baron as the Sieur de Coucy, protected by moat, thick walls, and a great donjon, could support his boast — "I am not king, nor prince, nor duke, nor even count; I am the lord of Coucy.” In distinction from the Romanesque period, when life was chiefly rural and monastic, the Gothic age was one of towns, with their merchant guilds, growing in number and power. Revolting from the feudal domination of the baron or the bishop, one by one they became independent communes, robust and vigorous with a growing sense of freedom and expansion resulting from the opening-up of inter- course with neighboring countries and the Near East through the Crusades.

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333

[a] Chartres , the Town and the Cathedral. (JV. D. Photo)

Economically, this intercourse stimu- lated commercial activity and brought wealth.

Religiously, the thirteenth century saw the culmination of enthusiasm that had been developing since the year 1000. Under a strong line of Popes the Church reached a pinnacle of tem- poral as well as of spiritual power. The existing monasteries, having fulfilled their purpose of reforming the Church from within, declined in power, while attention was focused upon the churches of the towns where the bishops lived. Hence we see the rise of the great cathe- drals. The higher clergy had developed the creeds and the ritual until they had become subtle and complex, far above the comprehension of the mass of the

people, whose religion nevertheless was intense, manifesting itself in the mystery and miracle plays and in the venera- tion of relics. Many of the latter were believed to be miracle-working and, carefully protected in reliquaries (Fig. 359A) of gold and silver inlaid with precious stones and enamels, were car- ried through the land, curing the sick and stimulating the contribution of large sums of money for the erection of a church to house the relic. So intense was the enthusiasm that at Chartres, for example , 1 all the people, old and young, prince and peasant, hitched

1 For a full account, see the letter of Haymo, an eyewitness, as translated in A. K. Porter, Medieval Architecture, z vols., Yale University Press, 1912, Vol. II, pp. 151 ff.

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themselves to carts and dragged great loads of stone to build the cathedral.

But a new far-reaching element was altering religious ideas — the Francis- can movement. In 1210 Saint Francis of Assisi, in protest against the grow- ing internal degradation of the Church, clad in a rough peasant’s cloak, bare- foot, with no money, began traveling about with his small band of followers, preaching the creed of poverty, chas- tity, and obedience and inspiring the people with his own gentleness and ra- diant love for all life. The birds, the animals, the insects, the trees, and the sun — everything in nature was a part of God’s great universe, a brother, to be loved and respected. Gradually there came about a change in point of view — a change from the medieval ideal of focusing upon the life to come, for which this life was but a preparation, to a realization of the value of this life for itself, for the beauty to be seen all about and for a legitimate joy in na- ture. Such a realization turned men’s eyes toward an observation of nature that revealed itself in the Gothic age, and found its culmination in the indi- vidualism and secularization of the Renaissance.

Another aspect of medieval life re- vealed itself in the cathedral — the in- tellectual. It was a period of great learning. Universities were springing up, and the passion of the age for ency- clopedic knowledge we observe in the work of Vincent of Beauvais, who at- tempted to classify all knowledge under four headings, which he called The Four Mirrors; first, the mirror of nature, which included scenes of creation, vegetable and animal ornament, mon- sters, and grotesques; second, the mir- ror of science or instruction, which included human labor, the handicrafts, and the seven arts; third, the mirror of morals, which revealed the vices and virtues; and, fourth, the mirror of his-

tory, which related the stories of the Old and New Testaments, the tales of the apocryphal books, and the lives of the saints. And the age, not content with gathering this knowledge into a book, carved it all in stone on the por- tals of the cathedral, on the capitals, and high up on the buttresses and towers, and pictured it in vivid colors in the windows . 1

Everyday life in the towns was vig- orous and democratic, each person contributing to the life of the commu- nity. To be sure, the streets were narrow and dark; and there was little sanitation, so that plagues, once started, easily wiped out great masses of man- kind. At the feudal courts life was fes- tive and gay, and from hall to hall the troubadours and the trouveres trav- eled, singing their songs of love and adventure . 2

This thirteenth century was the clas- sic period of Gothic art, as the twelfth had been its archaic period. Though the style continued into the sixteenth century and even longer in some coun- tries, after the thirteenth the trend was toward greater engineering achieve- ment, elegance, and overelaboration.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

As has been said, the highest achieve- ment of the age was the cathedral, which is an epitome in stone of medieval life. Unlike Romanesque architecture,

1 For a fuller description and symbolic mean- ing, see fimile Male, Religious Art in France , XIII Century, Dutton, 1913.

2 Vivid pictures of life in this period arfe found in the manuscripts, especially the calen- dars, in which the activity typical of the month is illustrated — the feast and the hawking party; sowing and reaping; and hunting the wild boar for the Christmas feast. Henry Adams, Mont- Saint-Michel and Chartres, Houghton Mifflin, 1930, is especially recommended for its sym- pathetic insight into the spirit of the age.

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[a] Cathedral of Notre Dame. Chartres. Chiefly i2th~i 3th cent.

which was diverse and widely scattered, Gothic architecture is distinctly French and in its purest form narrowly re- stricted to the lie de France, though it manifested itself in varying forms in other localities.

To understand the cathedral, let us travel about fifty-five miles southwest of Paris to Chartres and there study in detail, as a typical example, the cathe- dral of Notre Dame de Chartres. 1 As we approach (Fig. 333A), we notice how it

1 The present cathedral dates from the fire .of 1134, which destroyed the old basilica on the site. The west fagade was built by 1 150. To gain space in the nave (Fig. 337A), this fagade, which had been built behind the towers, was moved forward until flush with the west end of the towers, its present position. The south tower was completed between 1180 and 1194, when a great fire destroyed all the church except parts of the western end. Rebuilding proceeded rapidly and the new cathedral, the present one, was dedicated in 1260. The northern and southern portals were added during the thir- teenth century, and the northern spire between 1506 and 15x2.

looms above the compact town, a bulky mass culminating in two spires. An air view (Fig. 3 35 a) shows that this mass consists of two lofty, narrow rectangular volumes, the longer one terminating in a semicircular end, the shorter inter- penetrating the longer at right angles, somewhat nearer the circular end. These volumes organize an interior space, just as the dome and the drum of the Pantheon (Fig. 1 76A.) and the domes, half-domes, and walls of Santa Sophia (Fig. 26 1 a) organize the interior space of these buildings. But the space is of a different character. As we enter Char- tres, it is too dim for us to see at first. Then we become aware of a narrow lofty space, in which the eye is carried upward by swiftly rising verticals into mysterious shadows, and down the deep vista of the nave to a high light near its end. The surfaces of the walls glow with the rich colors of glass, which spreads its radiant luminosity over the gray stone. Proportions, emphasis of line di-

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[a] The Value of the Pointed Arch, (i) abed is an oblong bay to be vaulted; bd is the diagonal rib; dc, the transverse; and be, the longitudinal. If circular ribs are erected , their heights will be ef, gh , and ij. The result will be a domical vaulting (2) irregular in shape because of the unequal height of the ribs; and with the longitudinal arch too low to admit of a clerestory. A building so vaulted is low and dark , like San? Ambrogio {Fig. 317 a). The problem , then , is to bring the crowns of all the ribs to the same height as the crown of the di- agonal rib e. This can be done by pointing the lower ribs. The result is a lighter , more flexible system (3), affording ample space for a clerestory.

rection, thematic repetitions, such as the pointed arch and compound pier — these are components of an interior space organization that overwhelms the onlooker with a feeling of mystery and exaltation.

The plan (Fig. 339A4) generated this spatial organization and it, in turn, was determined by utilitarian considera- tions. It is an elaborated basilica, in which liturgical considerations so lengthened the choir that the transept is near the center of the nave, thus transforming the T-shape of the early basilica into a cross shape. The apse has developed into a complicated form called the chevet, 1 which includes not only the apse itself but the surrounding aisles, known as ambulatories, or apsidal aisles, and the chapels opening from them (Fig. 335 a). The constructional principles which enabled the builders to create such a structure are clearly evi- dent on both the exterior and the inte- rior, As we think back to San? Ambrogio

1 Note that the apse is the full height of the nave, but the ambulatories and chapels, though vaulted, are but one story high, and over them spring the flying buttresses. See also Figure 35OA.

(Fig. 31 7a), low, dark, and heavy, and even to St. Etienne (Fig. 324B), where advance over San? Ambrogio came about through the daring of the Nor- mans, we ask ourselves what enabled the Gothic builders to erect their lofty naves. It was three things primarily — ribbed vaulting, the pointed arch, and the flying buttress — • by means of which they produced buildings that were not only uplifting in their emotional appeal, but highly intellectual in their engi- neering.

Let us look at Chartres from the en- gineering angle. In the nave, we recog- nize the ribbed vaulting, but we see that the arches are pointed rather than round. By studying Figure 336A we un- derstand why the pointed arch could give height and light where the round one could not; and that was what these builders were trying to secure — height for expression, and light because of the dull Northern climate.

Given, then, a method of securing these two essentials, how is the vault- ing stably supported in its lofty posi- tion? In Figure 33 7A we see that the great piers at the crossing are of the

[a] Chartres. Nave , looking east. L. 236 ft.; with choir, 367 ft. W. 54 ft.; with aisles, ioj ft. H. 112 ft. ( Clarence Ward)

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clustered or compound type such as we saw in San? Ambrogio — ’ each rib of the vaulting, diagonal, transverse, and longitudinal, has its individual support- ing member in the clustered pier. The consistent application of this principle makes a massive pier necessary at the crossing, to support the tower over the crossing that the original plans called for but which was never built. Such a pier also affords an effective accent at this part of the cathedral. Along the nave and transept, however, the build- ers used a single shaft with four engaged columns (Fig. 337 a) — quite adequate to carry the load. Three of these rise one story only to support the arches of the ground-story arcade and the trans-

verse arches of the aisle; the fourth — that facing the nave or the transept — rises from the base to the vaulting, in- terrupted by stringcourses only, and at that point meets the downward thrust of the great transverse ribs of the nave. Smaller shafts, which carry the diag- onal and longitudinal ribs, rise from the capitals of the ground-story arcade. 1 The same deviations from regularity that are found in the buildings of many peoples — in the Ziggurat of Ur; the Parthenon, the arcades of Pisa, to cite a

1 A comparison of the piers of several of the great cathedrals, such as St. Denis, Senlis, Sens, Paris, Amiens, and Reims, will reveal an interest- ing variety of methods of treating the problem of the compound pier.

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1 2 3

[a] Steps in the Development of the Gothic Plan, (i) San Clemente , Rome. An early Christian basilica. A timber roof light in weight and with no side thrust , is carried on slender , uncomplicated supports. The development of liturgy has resulted in a low-walled choir occupying about half the nave. (2) Sant* Ambrogio, Milan {Fig. 316 a ) . Italian Roman- esque. While the plan closely follows that of the early Christian basilica {with atrium , de- tached towers, and no transepts ), the stone roof vault necessitates heavier walls and columns for support , and the concentration of buttressing to support the rib vaulting divides the interior into bays. (3) Abbaye-aux-Dames, Caen. French Romanesque. While round-arched rib vault- ing results in a plan of square bays similar to that of Sant' 1 Ambrogio, the larger window openings, obtained by further concentration of buttressing, indicate the requirements of a north- ern climate. The atrium has disappeared; the towers have become part of the building and a

few — appear in Gothic in the un- equally spaced piers, and in the curved stringcourses.

A study of one bay in detail indicates a clearly marked division into three stories; (1) the ground-story arcade that separates the aisle from the nave; (2) the triforium, a low second story pierced with four arched openings separated by

colonnettes; 1 and (3) the clerestory, which consists of tracery filled with glass, reaching to the crown of the vault- ing (Fig. 337A). An obvious character- istic of the system is the relatively small

1 As this story frequently had three openings, it became known as the triforium, meaning three- pierced. Sometimes a gallery is built here over the aisles.

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dominating feature of the facade; a transept with exterior projections separates the nave from the choir and gives the plan the shape of a cross, (4) Chartres Cathedral (Figs. 333 a, 335A). French Gothic. Enlargement of the choir leaves the transept in the middle of the church. The once separate towers are integrated. Deep triple doorways front the transepts. Gothic but- tressing makes possible the complexities of the chevet and double aisle and, by removing all weight from the walls, converts them into window areas. Pointed arches permit an oblong bay ( Fig.336A ) and thus widen the nave. (5) Salisbury Cathedral (Fig. 35s a). English Gothic. A long narrow plan, deep, double transepts, single aisles, a square instead of apsidal east end; shallow portals, and a dominating tower over the crossing are characteristic English features.

a. nave; b. aisles; c. apse; d. transept; e. crossing; f. choir; g. chevet; h. ambulatory; j. apsidal chapel; k. tower; m. porch; n. atrium; p. narthex.

amount of wall space in comparison with the openings. The long reaches of uninterrupted surface in the basilica have given way to this light, open ar- rangement, with the clerestory entirely filled with apertures for admitting light. But this suppression of wall also elim- inated any space for such mural deco- ration as the frescoes or mosaic that

enriched the interiors of the early Chris- tian churches. Compensation for this the Gothic builders found in stained glass, which was just reaching a climax in its development. Eagerly seizing upon its possibilities, they substituted great areas of glass for stone, producing a decoration of deep, glowing color, even richer than the Byzantine mosaics.

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[a] Steps in the Development of Gothic Vaulting, (x) Sant y Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna (Fig. 255 a). Early Christian. Slender arcades easily support a high clerestory and the light, vertical pressure of a timber roof (2) Sant’ Ambrogio, Milan (Fig. 317 a) . Italian Romanesque. Here rib vaulting concentrates the weight and thrust of the stone roof on piers rather than on the entire wall, but the pier buttressing does not permit the nave vault to rise high above the triforium vaults. Thus a clerestory was impossible, and the nave is low and dark. The use of round arches in the ribs makes the vault of unequal height (Figs . 317 a, 336A2) and by pre- scribing a square bay limits the width of the nave. (3) Abbaye-aux-Hommes, Caen (Fig. 324B ) . French Romanesque. A concealed half barrel vault over the loftier triforium acts as a flying buttress and props the nave vault high enough to permit a small clerestory. (4) Chartres

We now have the explanation of the pointed arch, the ribbed vaulting, and the clustered pier from which the latter springs. The third vital element in- volved, if the vault is to stand, is effi- cient buttressing; otherwise the thin walls will be pushed out by the great weight and the whole structure will col- lapse like a house of cards. We have already learned that buttressing is needed only at the points where the thrust of the vault is concentrated. This thrust, which exerts pressure both downward and outward, is concen- trated partly on the piers and partly at a point about a third of the way up the curve of the rib, a point called the

haunch , so that here the thrust must be met by a counterthrust. This is the function of the flying buttress.

With this in mind, let us study the buttresses (Figs. 335A, 341 A4). From the ground rise massive buttresses, each on the axis of a clustered pier, in line with the transverse arches of both the nave and the aisle (Fig. 339A4). They diminish in thickness as they rise, and from each spring two half-arches — the flying but- tresses — which abut on the nave wall, one at and slightly above the capital of the pier and the other at the crown of the ribs. The lower arch is double, with an open arcade between — - an un- usual feature. Furthermore, the nave

Cathedral {Fig. 337 a). French Gothic. Pointed arches permit a vault of even height and a high clerestory. Flying buttresses, frankly revealed, permit the nave vault to rise high above, the aisle vaults and, by providing support only at the points of greatest stress (where the ribs con* verge), eliminate the necessity for support from a vault over the triforium or from the walls below , thus making it possible to fill the walls with windows and to reduce the triforium to a low, mural gallery. (5) Reims Cathedral {Figs. 343 a, 330 a) . French Gothic. Flying but- tresses here transfer the weight and thrust of the high nave vaulting across two aisles to the pier buttresses. Mote the use of pinnacles at the tops of the piers to provide stabilizing weight to balance the outward thrust of the flying buttresses. In this drawing all the naves are repre- sented as the same width in order to show the effect of construction upon proportion.

wall between is stiffened by engaged col- umns. The buttresses of the Abbaye-aux- Hommes (Fig. 340 A3), hidden beneath the roof with their place of abutment too low, have here come out into the open, frankly revealed and efficiently constructed. Thus the thrusts of the vaults are counterbalanced and the whole structure is dynamically stable.!

1 As in the case of the clustered pier, no two cathedrals show the same treatment of tire flying buttress, though the underlying structural principle is the same. Sant ’ Ambrogio, Abbaye~ aux-Hommes, Abbaye~aux-Dames, St. Germer de Fly, Soissons, Chartres, Amiens, Moire Dame de Paris, Reims, sad Beauvais illustrate the general evolution. The trend is toward lightness without sacrifice of structural stability.

Engineering alone, however, though fundamental, deals with but one aspect of Gothic architectural form. The treat- ment of the surfaces that bound the volumes, and the decorative elements, contribute equally to the unity. Two kinds of ornament were used: stone sculpture and stained glass, the former to enrich the portals and the latter to provide luminous color for the interior. The local gray stone, which was used for both the masonry and the sculpture, integrates the surfaces of the construc- tional walls and the carvings into a compact unity. This is particularly evident in the western fagade, whose dominant note is a quiet strength that

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[a] Chartres, Western Portal: Kings and Queens. (. Monuments Piot )

results from large areas of unbroken masonry (evidence of its Romanesque ancestry) , from the thematic repetition of the rounding arch in the fenestration, and, with the exception of the northern tower, from its restrained decoration, which breaks the surface only enough for vivifying contrasts. The facade is divided vertically into three parts. A central division contains the portal, three lancet windows, a rose window, and an arcade; and on either side a flank- ing tower that reaches up into a tall spire. The design, however, is not sym- metrical, the most striking irregularity being in the towers, one of which is sturdy and plain, the other higher, more Slender, and ornate; and the division into stories is not uniform. These ir- regularities, however, which are due to different periods of building, do not

disturb the balance of the composition.

Of the towers, the south, or Old Tower , is much the simpler and sturdier of the two, harmonizing better with the general composition than does the slenderer, more ornate north tower built in the style of three hundred years later. The effect of the Old Tower is marred by the arcading and the rose window, which bring the central part of the facade higher than was originally planned; for the tower was intended to rise freely from the third story and now is “hunched up by half a rose and a row of kings.” 1 But we instinctively feel its sober strength, quiet harmony, and reposeful lines and proportions. It rises from a firm, square base and is decorated with blind arcades, splayed windows, and pilasters. At the point of transition from the square tower to the octagonal spire (the builder’s most difficult problem), the work becomes lighter, with more frequent openings and small pinnacles that lead directly to the towering spire; but so skillfully is this transition made that one is quite unaware how gradually and subtly it has taken place.

On the triple portal (Fig. 343A), which is confined to the central division of the facade, is concentrated the elabo- rate sculpture, carved of the same ma- terial, which enlivens the stone masonry and accents the entrance. The first im- pression is that of perfect architectural unity. In the central tympanum is the figure of Christ surrounded by the four beasts of the Apocalypse, in every re- spect very close to St. Trophime (Fig. 32 1 a) . The linealism of the conventional forms contributes to the decorative value, and the austerity of the central figure, combining benevolence and pity for humanity (expressed by the gesture of benediction) conveys to one entering the church the innermost meaning of that for which the Church stood. In 1 Adams, op. cit.

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[a] Chartres . Western, or Royal, Portal. So called because on the central tympanum is represented Christ as King of Kings, c. 1145, ( Houvet )

the rows of kings and queens on either side of the doorway (Fig. 342A) we see elongated figures standing rigidly erect, compact, with arms close to the body, never projecting beyond the contour . 1 The long lines of the drapery are pre- dominantly vertical, reminiscent of flut- ings, so that the whole effect is that of a column. And this is what the artist was striving for — to use the human figure to adorn a column and yet not lose: the feeling of the column. This effect is still further enhanced by the background of rich carvings on the pedestals and the intermediate shafts. As representations of kings and queens,

1 The unequal height of the figures is prob- ably due to the fact that after the fire they were assembled from different parts of the building. The plain shafts indicate repair.

they are richly clad in embroidered robes, befitting royalty; each carries a scepter, a book, or a scroll, and many wear crowns. In the heads are ex- pressed great variety and marked indi- viduality. At the same time these figures are primarily of stone, of the same ma- terial and texture as that of the build- ing itself and carved in a manner that is suitable to a rather coarse stone. The sculptors have consistently carved this stone to serve a definite function and not to produce a realistic representation of kings and queens.

Throughout the portal, then, first, there is a feeling for function, as seen in the restraint and the conventionali- zation of each figure which adapted it to the place that it was to occupy; second, there runs through the figures

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a living quality of marked individuality, with a serene emotionalism born of sin- cere religious conviction.

The details of the left and right door- ways deserve notice. On the arches about the left tympanum is carved a calendar. Why should such a subject be represented on a cathedral? Recalling the Four Mirrors of Vincent of Beauvais, we read in the Mirror of Instruction that while man can be saved only through a Redeemer, still he can prepare him- self for redemption by labor and knowl- edge. Hence the sculptor pictures man’s typical occupation for each month, to- gether with the appropriate sign of the zodiac. In all these little pictures there is a mingling of the fanciful and the simple homely scenes of everyday life, very spontaneous, and very close to the heart of the people.

Another glance at the ground plan of Chartres (Fig. 339A4) shows that the transepts terminate in deep porches approached by a broad flight of steps. In Figure 344A we see the north porch, a large open portico, each of its triple divisions vaulted over and capped with a pediment. As on the western portal, rows of figures flank the doorways; the tympani are filled with sculptured re- liefs; all the arches are carved with fig- ures and the intervening spaces are decorated with trefoil ornament. The south porch is similar in general design. Both form effective entrances, rich in detail and harmonious in design with the whole facade.

The subject matter of the sculpture of the north porch is taken from the Old Testament and the life of the Vir- gin, fitting subjects for the portal which

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looks to the cold and dark of the North, forming a prelude to the life of Christ that finds its place on the portal which faces the warmth and sunshine of the South. On both porches are found rep- resentations of scenes from the creation, the Vices and Virtues, and the lives of saints and martyrs, thus continuing the illustrations from the Four Mirrors.

As we look at some of the figures from these north and south portals (Fig. 344A), we realize that this is a different art from that of the western portal. The figures are well proportioned; they ap- pear to stand upon their feet and turn their bodies and heads, so that we feel that a bodily structure exists beneath the drapery, which falls in naturalistic

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[a] Pinnacle. St. Etienne , Chdlons-sur- Mame. 13th cent. a. pinnacle; b. crockets; c. finial; d. pier buttress; e. flying but- tress; f. gargoyle. Although utilized as an ornament, the pinnacle originated as a con- structional necessity — to provide stabilizing weight at the top of the pier buttress where it receives the thrust of the flying buttress.

folds. So, too, the carvings on the capi- tals and the bases reveal a tendency away from, the conventional to the naturalistic. During the century that intervened between the building of the western and the side portals, the Gothic sculptor had been turning to nature, and in his eagerness to imitate it had sacrificed that complete subordi-

nation to architectural needs which characterized the western portal. He has not lost his sense of design, however. The beautiful long sweeping lines of the drapery give the figures something of an architectural feeling; but they are not so impressive or so essentially a part of the building as are the kings and queens at the western doorway. In the Visitation particularly we notice the sweep of line in the delicate, almost clinging drapery.

Beneath each statue, or underneath the bracket upon which it stands, are small figures which not only are deco- rative but also bear some symbolical or historical relation to the statue above. Beneath the feet of Christ, for example, are the lion and the dragon — “The young lion and the serpent shalt thou trample under foot.” These little fig- ures are added to symbolize Christ’s conquest over evil. Thus we see on these portals not only stories from the Bible and the legends and the illustra- tions from the Four Mirrors, but also, in- terwoven with them all, a whole world of figures and attributes which are sym- bolic . 1

Sculpture, we have seen, was used chiefly on the exterior, to adorn the portals. The second factor in decora- tion, the stained glass, ornamented the interior. As we stand in the nave of Chartres and look up at the three lancets and the rose window of the western fagade, we are aware of a mass of the richest color imaginable, glowing like a cluster of brilliant gems. The Tree of Jesse window (one of the western lan- cets), for example, or La Belle Verriere (“The Beautiful Window”) in the am- bulatory gives us the impression of an area of radiant vibrating blue, stabi- lized by the adjacent opaque stone. Closer inspection shows that other col- ors — deep red and green relieved by

1 For the symbolic interpretation of Gothic sculpture, see Male, op. cit.

GOTHIC ART

lighter tones of the same hue or by a little white — contribute equally to the design. Why then the effect of blue tonality? The art of working in colored glass involves a knowledge of the ac- tion of light upon color. Red areas, for example, tend to present ragged edges, whereas blue spreads out over adjacent differently colored areas. Thus the win- dow at a distance presents an over-all blue tonality . 1

A detail of these twelfth- and thir- teenth-century windows reveals a two- dimensional design, based upon line and color areas and upon the transparency of glass and the opacity of lead and iron, each a foil to the other. There is no land- scape, no feeling of depth, and the figures are quite Byzantine in style. The purpose of the glassmaker was not to produce a naturalistic representation, but to keep his design flat with all parts subordi- nated to color organization.

Let us follow a glassworker as he makes such a window. With the dimen- sions of the window in hand, he draws his design in full size on the whitened bench upon which he is building up his window, indicating with heavy black lines the iron bars that are necessary to hold the window firmly; for a large area of glass and lead is too pliable to withstand the force of storms. These bars must play into the design and not obstruct it; hence they determine the main lines of the composition. Having drawn in the figures, he begins putting in the glass. At hand he has sheets of glass which have been colored, not by being painted, but by having coloring matter, chiefly metal, added while the glass was in a molten state. From these sheets he cuts tiny pieces, often not more than an inch long, to fit his de- signs, a separate piece for each color or shade of color. He pieces them together

1 For an explanation of this action of light upon color see C. J. Connick, Adventures in Light and Color, Random House, 1937.

[a] Grotesques. Notre Dame , Paris.

with strips of lead, because this metal is pliable, and solders the strips where they join. Thus he builds up his de- sign, piece by piece, mindful first, as he works in his reds and blues with whites, yellows, and greens, of color relationships. Hence when his design calls for an illustration of the Prodigal Son feeding the swine, he does not hesi- tate to make one pig green, two blue, and one red, because it is more impor- tant for the final effect to have those colors at certain spots than to follow the color of nature. And again, with the final effect in mind, when he wants a rich purple, instead of making purple glass, he places side by side bits of red and blue, allowing the eye to mix them at a distance, and so obtains a much richer hue than he could get by color-

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[a] Notre Dame. Paris. 1163-1235. {Clar- ence Ward)

ing the glass purple. Thus the twelfth- century glassmakers used the same prin- ciple as the French Impressionists of the nineteenth century, who juxtaposed their red and blue pigment cn the can- vas for the eye to mingle into purple from afar. Here and there in the de- signs he needs somewhat larger pieces of glass, on which must be painted a face, a hand, or a bit of drapery. With a brownish enamel, in fine, firm strokes he draws these details and fires the pieces (thus fusing the enamel with the glass) and then leads them into the de- sign. Thus the glassworker is guided by the same principle as the sculptor; namely, decorative value determined by architectural needs. At the same time, a vital content coheres with visual ef- fectiveness. The windows were contrib- uted partly by the royal house and the Church, and partly by the guilds, each

[b] Notre Dame. Amiens. 1220-88. [N. D. Photo )

of which had its patron saint, who, naturally, would figure in the design. In fact, the windows of Chartres furnish a gorgeously illustrated Golden Legend for all the people to read.

While sculpture and stained glass formed the chief decorative elements of the cathedral, polychromy and certain accessories also played an important part. Color and gilding were applied, apparently, to any available wall space, to capitals, to ornamental details, and to statues. Of this, because of time and the destructive Northern climate, nothing but faint traces now remains. The accessories of the service, too — the rich robes of the clergy, the gold and silver jeweled crosses, reliquaries, and chalices, the carved ivory crosiers, and the great tapestries — contribute to the magnificence expressive of the religious exaltation of the times.

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349

[a] Noire Dame. Reims. 1211-go. Restored after extensive damage during World War I.

Many other great Gothic cathedrals were built, particularly in the thirteenth century in France, noteworthy among which were Notre Dame in Paris (Fig, 348 a), Amiens (Fig. 348B), and Reims (Fig. 349 a ). 1 Each was constructed on the same basic principles as Chartres. Only in detail and ornamentation do they differ. All are incomplete, and the im- pression of squatness noted by some observers would have been eliminated had the towers been carried up by spires to the intended height. In facade composition, the tendency is toward elaboration, Notre Dame has sobriety and repose, due to the almost classic balance of line and the quiet unadorned

1 As each of these cathedrals bears the name Notre Dane, it has become the habit to designate them, by the towns in which they are located, with the exception of the Paris cathedral, which has always retained its original name.

[b] Notre Dame. Rouen. From c. 1200; facade, 1507-30. The tower on the right is the Tour de Beurre (. Butter Tower), so called because it was built with funds secured in return for permission to eat butter during Lent , 1485-1507. Badly damaged during World War II. (N. D. Photo)

spaces of wall and buttress; at Amiens there is richness of detail, effective inter- play of line, and richness of light and shade; at Reims decoration has become excessive and the vertical line is stressed. We notice in all of these fagades the decorative effectiveness and the sug- gestion of welcome in the deeply re- cessed portals that extend the width of the fagade. The flying buttress also developed from the simple, robust type of Chartres (Fig. 341A4) into the lighter and more elaborate type of Reims (Fig. 341 A5) , which, with its niches, pinnacles, crockets, and finials (Figs. 346 a, 349A, 350A.), contributes to the soaring quality of the cathedral.

MEDIEVAL ART

Reims. North side. Reims , as planned , would have carried seven spires , two at each he portals and one , the highest , over the crossing. (N. D. Photo j

[b] An Ogee Arch with Flamboyant Detail

The sculpture of these great thir- | teenth-century cathedrals, while: akin I

to that of the north and south portals of I Chartres, still shows marked differences. J

The Vierge Dork (Amiens), a gracious I virgin, stands holding the child and . ■ j playfully smiling; three angels, two in f rapid movement, hold the shell-adorned nimbus. She stands so that the figure is I built on a great sweeping curve; the drapery, girded high, falls in broad folds. The delicate naturalistic carvings and the fluttering angels enhance the graciousness of this gentle, smiling f

queen. In his tendency toward natural- ism, the sculptor has altered his type, and for the symbolic austerity and dig- nity of the Queen of Heaven of the eleventh and twelfth centuries has sub- stituted elegance and the serene joy of the more human type of mother and child.

t-mtf

♦iff*

m.

GOTHIC ART

[a] Church of Notre Dame. Louviers. South porch, 1404. [b] Smiling Angel . Reims.

A highly characteristic example is the Smiling Angel of Reims (Fig. 351B). The tall, slender figure stands in an attitude of ease and grace; the swing of the body is accentuated by the long sweeping curves of the drapery. The tilt of the head, the movement of the uplifted hand, the sweep of the wings that frame the head — all these lend charm to this angel who is so tender and so joy- ful. While the statue is not as impres- sively architectural as the kings and queens of the western portal of Chartres, it still retains with its naturalism a sense of decorative fi tness; with the exception of the wings, it stands within the space bounded by the two engaged columns, the straight verticality of which, re- peated in the fold of the cloak, acts as

Detail of the Western Portal. 13th cent. Practically destroyed during World War I. Contrast with Fig. 342 a. ( Levasseur )

a foil to the dominant curves of the de- sign.

Although, as has been noted in the preceding chapter in regard to mon- asteries, the subject matter, general treatment, and location of the major sculpture of the cathedrals were dictated by the Church , 1 the imagination of the carvers found free play in the carvings on the capitals, on pedestals, up on the towers — in all the nooks and corners. This decorative carving, as well as the statues of the portals, reveals a return to nature. The capitals of the clustered

1 See MMc, op. cit., for a full exposition of this.

352

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Salisbury Cathedral. 1220-58. ( Aerqfilms Ltd., London )

piers of Reims are covered with foliage in which animals and fantastic figures are intertwined; the leaves, deeply under- cut or standing out in the round, appear to have been just fastened up on the stone. Naturalism has destroyed the sur- face of the stone and has supplanted the organization of stone as stone with an illusion of natural appearance. The grotesques (Fig. 347A) that live high up on the balustrades of the towers, peer- ing out over the city — half man, half beast, crow, elephant, the three-headed Cerberus — were born probably of pure fancy, and show that the fantastic and chimerical forms of the world of imagination also belonged to the mirror of nature, and thus are found tucked away in corners all over the cathedral.

The Gothic cathedral reached its culmination in the thirteenth century, continuing in the fourteenth without great change. The fifteenth-century cathedrals, however, such as Rouen (Fig. 349B), reveal quite a different aspect. The feeling of structural significance has given way to lightness and elegance and an overemphasis upon decoration for its own sake. In the lacelike carving of the portal of Louviers (Fig. 351 a), the restless line finds recurrent expression in the ogee arch (Fig. 350B), which is not structurally an arch but is formed by two moldings with l-eversed curves that unite and terminate in a finial. So too the foliage, departing from the natural- ism of Reims, now twists and turns in wavy, flamelike lines, so that the work

GOTHIC ART

353

[a] Gloucester Cathedral. Transept, Choir, and Lady Chapel. 1331-37.

of the late Gothic period became known as flamelike or Flamboyant,

Although Gothic architecture was primarily French, its influence spread to England, the Low Countries, Ger- many, Spain, and Italy, with variations according to local conditions. The Eng- lish. Church was long monastic, and thus, in contrast with the French, Was Originally situated apart from the town in the open country (Fig. 352 A) and in- cluded a close and a cloister, forms so ingrained in the English tradition that they were used with the secular cathe- drals as well. The plan(Fig. 339A5) shows a long nave, a square end — probably a Saxon inheritance — and deep, usu- ally double transepts, which provide

opportunity for a complex massing of volumes that culminate in the rectangu- lar tower over the crossing (Fig. 353 a), sometimes, as at Salisbury (Fig. 352A), crowned with a spire. One misses in the English church that characteristic French feature, the flying buttress. For; the English is not so consistent a style as the French, because many of the English churches were rebuilt Norman (Romanesque) structures whose solid walls and pier buttresses were sufficient support for the vaultings. Where the flying buttress was used, it was insig- nificant and often concealed beneath the roof. Thus the English cathedral retains much of the Romanesque sturdy solidity and seldom shares the French

354

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Winchester Cathedral. Nave, looking west from choir. Remodeled {1346-1486) hy encasing the nth cent. Norman walls and columns with a Perpendicular veneer and add- ing a vaulted roof L. 230 ft. W. 40 ft.; with aisles, 88ft. H. 78ft. {Jerry Hennigar ) Compare the large window, the lierne vault- ing, and the unbroken piers here with the smaller windows, the simple rib vaulting , arid the use of stringcourses in Fig. 345A.

restless, emotional, aspiring quality . 1 But the need for light tended to increase the size of the openings and to stimu- late the development of tracery to hold huge areas of glass (Figs. 353A, 354A).

In window tracery and vaulting the English builders went beyond structural requirements in the direction of decora- tive elegance. In the nave of Winchester (Fig. 354A), for example, the compound piers rise in one sheer sweep, without a break by stringcourses — compare Amiens (Fig. 345 a)— to the vaulting where the ribs spread out in great sweeping lines, and with the help of in- termediate ribs weave an elaborate de- sign' — a system known as lierne vaulting. A few of these ribs are structural, but most of them are decorative only. A climax of multiplying nonfunctional ribs, as in the Oxford Divinity School, is reached in the fan vaulting of the Chapel of Henry VII { Fig. 355A).

In the Low Countries, particularly Flanders, although typical Gothic churches were built, the most individual expression was the secular building, es- pecially the town halls and the cloth halls of Flanders . 2

In Germany, Gothic building was generally imitative of the French. In the Romanesque period the builders in the Rhenish cities had developed a par- ticularly virile, original style of church architecture. The Gothic was arbi- trarily accepted rather than naturally

1 Most English cathedrals show various periods of building and rebuilding and thus are seldom homogenous in style. Canterbury and Winchester are excellent examples of all styles, which are: Late Norman or Romanesque (twelfth century), Durham; Early English (thirteenth century), Lincoln nave and chapter house, Canterbury choir, Salisbury; Decorated (fourteenth century), Lincoln Angel Choir; Per- pendicular (fifteenth to sixteenth century), Winchester nave, Gloucester Lady Chapel, Oxford Divinity School, Westminster Abbey Chapel of Hemy VII, Cambridge Chapel of King’s College, Windsor Chapel of St. George.

2 See Chapter 30 and Figures 532A, 533A.

GOTHIC ART

355

[a] Chapel of Henry VII. Westminster Abbey , London. Detail of the ceiling. 1503-19.

evolved. Hence Cologne Cathedral (1*248- 1880) imitates A miens quite consistently. The most original accomplishment of Gothic Germany was the Hallenkirchen or Hall Churches yin which the vaults of the aisles equaled in height those of the nave, giving the building a simple out- line and mass.

In Spain, the Gothic style — Burgos (founded 1226, spires begun 1442) and Seville (begun 1401) may be taken as typical — shows distinct contrasts with the French, due partly to different cli- matic conditions. The hot, dry climate did not require steeply pitched, pro- tecting roofs; hence the vaults were either left exposed or covered with tiles, giving a flat or low-sloping shape to the roof. Because of the hot, brilliant sunshine, the large number of openings needed in the North was diminished, thus increasing the plain wall space. Frequently the clerestory was omitted or the windows blinded, making the interior gloomy. Decoration, especially in the late period, shows characteristic

Spanish exuberance and love of over- loading, especially about the choir and the altar, and, because of the employ- ment of Moorish craftsmen, frequently combines Moorish and Christian motifs.

In Italy the essentially Northern Gothic was still less at home than in Spain. In the hill towns of Assisi, Or- vieto, and Siena are found character- istic examples which in some respects seem more Romanesque than Gothic. Possibly more successful adaptations of the style were the secular Gothic build- ings, the town halls of Florence and Siena, and the polychrome Venetian palaces. 1

PAINTING

Because of the great reduction of wall space, the Gothic style offered but little opportunity for mural painting. Hence book illustration was the chief function of the painter. The craft of bookmaking no longer centered in the

1 See pages 433-442.

356 MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Chapter House . Westminster Abbey, London . Begun 1250. (From an engraving )

monastery. A flourishing school had developed in thirteenth-century Paris, where the university was attracting men of learning. Although such secular books as treatises on medicine, ro- mances, and histories were appearing, the most usual volumes were still li- turgical and theological, such as the psalter, and the book of hours — a varied collection of calendars, lessons, prayers, and psalms for private devo- tional use.

A culmination of bookmaking was reached in France in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In looking at the manuscripts of the time (Fig. 357A), one is impressed with the vivid color (probably influenced by the stained- glass workers), the shimmer of gold over

the page, the fine spacing, and the ex- quisite delicacy and refinement of every part. The ivy was a popular form of border decoration. The foliated sprays were seminaturalistic, spreading out in delicate curves to form a flat pattern. Occasionally a single leaf was covered with gold slightly raised, giving a deli- cate richness to the page. In among the sprays one frequently finds tiny figures of animals, birds, and grotesques that are another evidence of the fancy of the medieval artist that revealed itself in the cathedral grotesque.

The tendency toward naturalism that we saw in sculpture appeared in paint- ing also. The miniature representing December from the Tres Riches Heures (Fig. 358A) gives us a naturalistic and intimate picture of the boar hunt in preparation for the Christmas feast. In the foreground the hunters in gay costumes with their dogs are closing in upon the boar. Behind them is a dense forest with leaves in their autumn color of golden bronze, above which rise, in the distance, the towers of one of the Duke’s chateaux, over against a deep- blue sky. The gold background of the miniatures of earlier centuries has given way to landscape. Naturalism has entered, as in sculpture; but, as in sculpture, it is subordinate to organiza- tion. Clearly defined areas of reds and blues balance each other; vertical lines are repeated in the chateau and in the trees which swing around the tightly integrated central group, where the areas and the lines of the light dogs converge upon the fallen prey — the climax both of the composition and of the content.

Out of the school of the miniaturists, independent painting as a major art be- gan to arise, and soon the miniature school waned as the coming of the print- ing press impinged upon its very life, — the life of one of the most vigorous and beautiful arts of the Middle Ages.

GOTHIC ART

357

[a] Page from a Book of Hours. With a minia- ture of Saint Eutropius. French. First half 15th cent. C. L. Ricketts Col- lection, Chicago. (. Harold Allen )

IVORY- AND WOOD-CARVING,

METALWORK, TEXTILES

Besides the bookmaker, many other craftsmen — ivory-carvers and wood- carvers, metalworkers, enamelers, and weavers — were needed to supply both ecclesiastical and rapidly increasing secular needs. Notwithstanding the re- vival of sculpture and the consequent relegation of the ivory-carver to second- ary importance, his services were still in demand for small shrines and for statuettes of the Virgin. Secular objects also claimed the attention of the carvers, such as ivory covers for the little mirrors

that ladies carried attached to their girdles by gold and silver chains. These covers were decorated with love scenes, popular among which was the storm- ing of the Castle of Love.

The work of the wood-carvers we see in furniture, both secular and ecclesias- tical. Gothic furniture impresses one with its sturdy simplicity and strength. Great oak forests supplied an abun- dance of timber of superior quality and massiveness; one feels to what an extent this medium has determined the general character of the product. There were not many kinds of furniture made. Rooms were rather bare, one piece —

358

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Pol de Limbourg and His Brothers . Decem- ber , from the Tres Riches Heures ( the Very Rich Book of Hours) made for the Due de Beni, c. 14.16. Musce Conde, Chantilly. ( Girau - don)

a great oak chest, for example — • serv- ing not only as a receptacle but also as a seat and a bed. Almost any exam- ple of Gothic furniture possesses a sim- ple massiveness which seems the direct result of the use of heavy timber. For decorative elements, carved panels, derived from Gothic tracery and orna- ment, sufficed.

In ecclesiastical furniture, the choir stalls gave the wood-carver ample op- portunity to exercise his craft. In the misericords and the arm rests particu- larly, the carver gave free rein to his fancy and fashioned the knoblike rests to represent the washerwoman, the baker, or Reynard the Fox.

The ceremonial vessels needed for church rites demanded especially the skill of the metalworker. Chalices we have noted in each period since the

founding of the Christian Church (Figs. 27 ib, 330A). The Chalice of St. Remi (Reims) in comparison with these re- veals a departure from the ruggedness of the earlier examples toward a greater elegance in shape and proportion, a certain regularity and precision of de- tail. In this chalice a larger amount of the surface is decorated than in the earlier ones; the filigree, stones, and cloisonnd enamels cover much of the broad base, the stem, and the cup. The shimmer of the gold,' the light and shade in the filigree bands, deepened by the rich color of the stones and the deep luminous tones of the enamels, make this chalice a superb example of the skill of these goldsmiths.

Cloisonne enameling was still used, but another type, the ckamfilevi , was practiced very successfully. The reli-

GOTHIC ART

359

[a] Reliquary. Limoges champleve enamel on cop- per. 13th cent. Metropoli- tan Museum of Art, New York City. ( Metropolitan Museum )

quary seen in Figure 359A is made by this process. It is architectural in form, suggesting the steep roofs of the North. In the long panel are the figures of Christ in an aureole and four saints in niches; in the sloping panel above are angels on either side of a circle contain- ing a lamb and the cross. The figures are in dark-blue, light-blue, green, and red enamel on a delicately chased metal base.

A metal used with highly artistic re- sults was iron, which when hammered partakes of the pliability of softer metals and is free from the feeling of rigidity which results from casting in a mold. A fine example is found in the iron hinges of Notre Dame. Here the elaborate, elegant design, like that of the Chalice of St. Remi, has retained just enough re- serve to save it from the weakness of overdecoration. The fine, strong scrolls, uniting firmly with the main stem, sug- gest the strength that should charac- terize a hinge. Within and about these scrolls, but subordinate to them, are minor details of naturalistic decora- tion, such as birds and serpents, which reveal the fancy of their designers.

Of great importance were large tapes- tries, which added color to the interior of the cathedral when, on festal occa- sions, they were hung from the tri- forium, and which decorated the great stone halls of the chateaux and with their firm texture helped retain what- ever warmth was afforded by the fire- place. They were often made in sets, as in The Lady and the Unicom series. Fig- ures and animals stand out as clearly defined areas against a ground of trees and flowering plants of infinite variety; and though ail are drawn with the greatest freedom and naturalism, each functions as one element in a harmoni- ous massing of color — a frankly deco- rative design which could well be relied on, with its contrasting color and tex- ture, to enrich a stone wall.

SUMMARY

The cathedral is the summation of the Gothic age. All the enthusiasm of a vigorous town life, in which civic pride and religious fervor were fused, poured itself into the erection of the cathedral. It became the symbol of the social soli-

MEDIEVAL ART

360

darity of the age, in which individuals, great personalities though they often were, were submerged. As a construc- tion, the cathedral consisted of a stone framework of rib vaulting supported by piers and flying buttresses, with walls largely of tracery and glass, which cre- ated an interior space of lofty propor- tions eminently expressive of the exalted feelings of the age. Contributing to produce this effect, in addition 10 the proportions, were: the predominantly vertical lines and repeated pointed arches, restless and upreaching; the ever increasing height of the nave lost in mysterious purple shadows ; the radiant beauty of the glass with its own note of exaltation; the sculpture, architectur- ally satisfying and profoundly signifi- cant; all the multitude of accessories, “the adornment of the material house of God 55 ; and the liturgy, with its plain- song and already developing polyphonic music. Though the involved theology of the Church lay beyond the intellec- tual grasp of the people, they were of- fered a visible evidence of its meaning that enabled them to share the feelings of the Abbe Suger when he said as he entered St. .Denis , his own cathedral, upon whose construction and decora- tion he had labored earnestly: “When the house of God, many-colored as the radiance of precious stones, called me from the cares of the world ... I seemed to find myself, as it were, in some strange part of the universe, which was neither wholly of the baseness of the earth, nor wholly of the serenity of heaven; but by the grace of God, I seem lifted in a mystic manner from this lower, toward that upper sphere.”

The Gothic style evolved from its early ruggedness to lightness in con- struction, and from archaic, architec- turally fitting sculpture to flamboyant elaboration and naturalism — a trend equally discernible in glass, ivories, metalwork, tapestries, and manuscripts.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ackerman, Phyllis, Tapestry , the Mirror of Civiliza- tion, Oxford University Press, 1 933 Adams, Henry, Mant-Saint-Michel and Chartres, Houghton Mifflin, 1913

Arnold, Hugh, Stained Glass of the Middle Ages in England and France, Macmillan, 1940 Bond, Francis, The Cathedrals of England and Wales, Scribner, 1912

An Introduction to English Church

Architecture, 2 vols., Oxford University Press, igr3

Bushnell, Arthur J. de H., Storied Windows, Macmillan, 1914

Gonnick, Charles, Adventures in Light and Color, Random House, 1937

Coulton, George G., Art and the Reformation, Knopf, 1928

ed. and tr., 2d ed., 4 vols. in x,

Life in the Middle Ages, Macmillan, 1930 Cram, Ralph Adams, The Substance of Gothic, 2d ed., Marshall Jones, 1925 Cunynghame, Henry H. S., European Enamels , London, 1906

Davis, William S., Life on a Mediaeval Barony , Harper, 1933

Day, Lewis F., Stained Glass, London, 1913 Delaporte, Yves , Les vitraux de la cathidrale de Chartres, 3 vols., Chartres, 1926 Ffoulkes, Charles J., Decorative Ironwork from the Xlth to the XVIIIth Century, London, 19x3 Francis of Assisi, The Little Flowers of St. Francis, Dutton (Everyman’s Library), 1908 Gardner, Arthur, French Sculpture of the Thirteenth Century, Medici Society, 1915 — — — Mediaeval Sculpture in France, Mac- millan, 1931

Hahnloser, Hans R., Villard de Honnecourt, Vienna, 1935

Herbert, John A., Illuminated Manuscripts, Put- nam, 1911

Houvet, Etienne, Cathedrale de Chartres, 7 vols., Chelles, 1921

Jackson, Sir Thomas Graham, Gothic Architec- ture in France, England, and Italy, 2 vols., University of Chicago Press, 1915 Jameson, Anna B, Murphy, Sacred and Legend- ary Art, 2 vols., Houghton Mifflin, c. 191 1 Karlinger, Hans, Die Kunst der Gotik, Berlin, 1927 Lethaby, William R., Medieval Art, rev. ed., Scribner, 1913

Macquoid, Percy, A History of English Furniture, 4 vols., Putnam, 1904-08

Male, fimile, Art et artistes du moyen age, Paris, 1927

— — ~ - Hart religieux du XIF sikle en

France, Paxis, 1922

r— ------ — - Religious Art in France, XIII Cen- tury, Dutton, 1913

GOTHIC ART

Marriage, Margaret S. and Ernest, The Sculp- tures of Chartres Cathedral, Putnam, 1909 Martin, Henry M. R,, Les peintres de manuscrits et la miniature en France , Paris, c. 1909 Masked, Alfred O., Ivories, Putnam, 1905

__ Wood Sculpture, Putnam, 19x2

Moore, Charles PL, Development and Character of Gothic Architecture, 2d ed., Macmillan, 1899 Muratoff, Paul, La sculpture gothique, Paris, 1931 Parkhurst, Helen Huss, Cathedral: A Gothic Pil- grimage, Houghton Mifflin, 1936 Pollen, John H., Ancient and Modem Furniture and Woodwork, rev. by T. A. Lehfeldt, Vol. I, London, 1908

Prentice, Sartell, The Heritage of the Cathedral, Morrow, 1936

Read, Herbert E,, English Stained Glass, Putnam, 1926

Salzman, Louis F., English Life in the Middle Ages, Oxford University Press, 1926 Saunders, O. Elfrida, A History of English Art in the Middle Ages, Oxford University Press, 1932 Sherrill, Charles H., Stained Glass Tours in England, Lane, 1909

361

Sherrill, Charles H., Stained Glass Tours in Prance. Lane, 1908

Smith, H. G., Catalogue of English Furniture & Woodwork, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 4 vols., 1923-31: Vol. I, Gothic and Early Tudor

Street, George E., Some Account of Gothic Archi- tecture in Spain, 2 vols., Dutton, rgi4 Taylor, Henry O., The Mediaeval Mind, 4th ed., 2 vols., Macmillan, 1925 Thomson, William G., A History of Tapestry, 2d ed., rev., London, 1930 Victoria and Albert Museum, A Picture Book of English Mediaeval Wall-Paintings, Museum, London, 1932

Vitraux des cathedrales de France, AT/ 8 et AT// 8 , siecles, pref. by Paul Claudel, introd. by Marcel Aubert, Paris, 1937 West, George H., Gothic Architecture in England and France, Macmillan, 191 1 Worringer, Wilhelm, Form in Gothic, ed. by Herbert Read, London, 1927 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 79 1 — 92 .

19

HINDU ART: BRAHMANICAL AND MUHAMMADAN-HINDU

T HROUGH the Gupta 1 age, India gave more than it received. Buddhism, already being decentralized by the missionary zeal of its followers, had begun to move eastward to moti- vate peoples in the East Indies, China, and Japan. With this decentralization came a renascence of the cults of Vishnu and Shiva and a florescence of Brah- manical art. Meanwhile Tatar invaders penetrated the northern plains and took over the power there under the name of Rajputs; and the Muhammadans, pushing eastward about a.d. iooo, over- ran large sections of the country and by 1526 had established the Mughal, or Mogul, Empire, which was the ruling power over large areas until the coming of the English and the French in the eighteenth century. India has never been totally united. Thus in the Middle Ages we find flourishing side by side different styles resulting from different faiths and different traditions, yet not entirely unrelated. For Muhammadan- ism brought a dynamic force and, as was its wont, assimilated local forms. Thus with its coming arose what one may call a Muhammadan-Hindu art. 1 See note x, page 198.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Builder and carver worked in close unity in meeting the demand for tem- ples of Vishnu and Shiva, for abundant carvings, and for cult statues. The Brahmanical temples were not intended for congregational worship, as were the Buddhist assembly halls. The essen- tial part was the shrine, with a passage around it for circumambulation - — a rite found in all Hindu worship. Only the priest entered the sanctuary, the dwelling-place of the god. As the people lived chiefly out of doors, so they wor- shiped, singing, dancing, offering flow- ers, doing reverence outside, not inside, the sanctuary. For this reason also the decoration, which was intended for an illiterate people and was didactic as well as ornamental, was placed on the exterior of the shrine and on the ex- terior and interior of the mandapam, or assembly hall, which was attached to the shrine. For the Hindu temple usu- ally served a much wider purpose than that of a shrine. Here the king gave audience, the village assembly met, and religious and philosophical dis-

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 363

[a] Temple at Halebid , near Mysore. Detail of the carving. Between nxy and 1268. (W. E. Clark )

cussions took place, as well as recita- tions of the great epics, songs, and dances. Hence many temples had one or more mandapams, roofed over but open on the sides.

Of these Brahmanical temples there are three important classes: those ded- icated to Vishnu, found chiefly in the north, where this sect was strongest; those dedicated to Shiva, found chiefly in the south; and a group in the Deccan, sometimes called the Chalukyan, 1 that combines features of the other two, im- plying use by more than one sect.

Atypical temple of Vishnu (Fig. 366A) shows that the essential parts are the shrine and the mandapam, which takes the place of the simple portico of the temple consisting of a shrine only. The walls and roofs are thick and massive, and sometimes contain a hollow cham- ber as insulation against the heat; the

1 So called because they are found in the district once ruled by the Ghalukya dynasty.

cornices are deep and hollow for the same reason, and awnings frequently are added to shield the interior from glare and dust. The shrine is square and is covered by a high tower, the shikara 2 with curving ribs. It is crowned by a flat round member (derived in shape from the fruit of the blue lotus) 3 surmounted by a vase; the lower courses of the tower are richly carved with statues of gods and goddesses. In front

2 The origin of the shikara seems to have been the bamboo framework of a primitive shrine translated into stone.

3 The lotus was the favorite flower of India and was used symbolically. It was “the flower of Vishnu.” Growing up out of the mud tmdefiled, it blossoms in the pure light of the sun. Just so the human spirit growing out of the material conditions of life finds liberation in Nirvana. The open lotus with down-turned petals, fre- quently found in domes, capitals, and the pedestals of the statues of Buddha, suggested the vault of heaven. The section of the fruit, which is the shape of a wheel, symbolized the universality of Buddha’s law.

MEDIEVAL ART

of the shrine stands the mandapam, the roof of which is built up into a trun- cated pyramid in order to cover the elaborate ceiling, which symbolizes the dome of the world. On the mandapams the Hindu builders lavished their deco- rative skill. Some were made of white marble, with every inch of the surface of the ceiling and the supporting col- umns carved in all kinds of ornament — figure work as well as floral and geo- metric design — so that the effect was one of lavish richness.

An elaborate temple of this type is found at Khajuraho (Fig. 364A) . It stands on a platform, which, with the rather plain base, unifies all the parts of the building. The roofs, rich and complex.

culminate in the lofty tower over the shrine. The tower itself has become complex by the addition of smaller towerlike members which encircle the base, fill the angles, and with their varying height carry the eye upward rhythmically.

In the second class of Hindu temple, the southern, the shrine is enclosed in an immense walled quadrangle (Fig. 366c) and surrounded by minor temples, halls, and evidences of a hot climate — bathing-pools and shaded porticoes. The great towering gateways, gopuras, bear a load of ornament — gods, mon- sters, animals, floral and geometric motifs — from base to summit, yet con- trol it with simplicity of mass and plane

! 1 1 1 1 m n

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 365

[a] Gopuras. Madura, iyth cent.

and with a fine sweep of contour (Fig.

365*).

The third class of Hindu temple is like the northern in plan except that it has become star-shaped (Fig. 366B), thereby presenting a varied and pic- turesque outline from whatever point it is viewed. Like the southern temple, however, it is built horizontally and roofed with low towers. The decoration is very profuse, as at Halebid (Fig. 363 a), where the horizontal zones are deeply undercut and carved with elephants, grotesques, mounted horsemen, gods, human figures, and floral motifs. Here one realizes how Hindu temple sculp- ture, as prolific as nature itself in the jungle, pours forth with intense vitality and ceaseless rhythm, and includes in its conceptions all animate life. “It is

to symbolize this universal fellowship of man, the unity of all creation, that the Indian loves to crowd into his picture all forms of teeming life uses every constructive feature to sym- bolize the universal law of the One in many.” 1

The Hindu predilection for cave temples, due to the heat of summer and the torrential rain of the monsoons, we have seen in the Buddhist assembly halls and in the Ajanta Caves. A cul- mination of this type is found in the Kailasa Temple at Elura (Ellora), dedi- cated to Shiva, 2 which was carved out of a hillside as a complete unit,

1 E. B. Havell, The Ideals of Indian Art, London, tgu, p. 1 1 2.

• Mt. Kailasa is the mountain throne of

Shiva.

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL,

with gopura, court, mandapam, and shrines; and, withal, lavishly decorated. The carvings are more dramatic than those of the Gupta age, more humanly emotional, suave and elegant. In the Ravana under Mount Kailasa, Shiva and his consort Parvati are seated upon their mountain throne surrounded by attendants. The thousand-armed giant Ravana, who sought, unsuccessfully, to dethrone Shiva, is represented below, in a niche cut back so deeply that the giant stands out forcefully against the dark while the lesser contrasts and suaver lines of the group above indicate the ease with which the god overcomes his foe.

This same dramatic use of light and dark appears in the caves at Elephanta where, however, the Trimurti 1 (Fig. 367A) retains more of the large monumental- ity of the earlier age. Its three heads rise from a single blocklike base and nearly fill the niche, where cavernous darkness brings the massive stone into bold re- lief. The two figures which flank the niche enhance its colossal scale and with their swaying rhythms accentuate its perfect symmetry and imperturbable monumentality. The faces are carved with the austere simplicity of a mask, and the elaborate headdresses and necklaces supply the needed movement and contrasting texture.

The Trimurti might be brought into comparison with the Bodhisattva of Ajanta, both superlative examples in different mediums of the Hindu theory of art as the expression of an inner dominating passion.

Cult statues of Shiva in bronze repre- sent a popular aspect of the god as the Lord of the Dance, or Shiva as Nataraja (Fig. 368A) . Shiva is poised with one foot upon a dwarf. He has four arms. In one hand is a drum, in another is fire.

1 Formerly thought to represent Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, but also interpreted as a trinity of Shiva alone.

MUHAMMAD AN-HINDU 367

[a] The Trimurti {Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva). Colossal size. 8th cent. Cave temple at Elephanta , near Bombay.

A ring of fire rising from the lotus ped- estal surrounds the figure, touching it at the hands with the drum and the fire. The meaning is that when Shiva dances with the drum and the fire, he awakens the powers of nature to the dance; that is, to life. But in turn he destroys these powers with fire and they return to rest. The movement of the dance symbolizes the rhythmic energy of the cosmos, whose purpose is perpetual creation and then destruction, but a destruction that is change, not annihilation, and results in the release or salvation of the soul. In the movement of this dance, we see that an orderly rhythm controls every part of the figure. The body, an S-curve* is poised firmly upon one foot. The other limbs move freely and form an asymmetrical design, composed of cy- lindrical and jagged shapes (the flames, the hands, the headdress), which is an objectification of the ceaseless move-

3 68

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Shiva as Nataraja , Lord of the Dance. Bronze. H. 46 in. 14th- 16th cent. Cleveland Mu- seum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio. ( Cleveland Museum of Art)

ment of this vital rhythm . 1 Particularly noticeable is the use of bronze for a subject that is in no way adaptable to stone.

A utilization of stone in its native site is illustrated at Mamallapuram, in the monolithic temples and particu- larly in the gigantic relief carved on a great cliff and representing The Descent of Ganga, or The Birth of the Ganges River (Fig. 369A). 2 Birds, deer, elephants, men and gods, the hermit in his shrine — all are present and all are moving toward the cleft in the cliff where Ganga is descending to bring water to the dying earth. The slender figures above, arranged in irregular zones, create a light rapid rhythm in contrast to the

1 For a detailed description of the statue and of its symbolism, see Coomaraswamy, The Dance of Siva, new ed., Sunwise Turn, 1925.

2 For the story see Frederika Macdonald, The Iliad of the East, Lane, 1908, Chap. HI.

slow ponderosity of the elephants below, where the stone is cut back deeply, as at Elura and Ajanta, to create a deep shadow. The profound love and under- standing of animal life is expressed here in a tempered naturalism which attains an unusual balance between the mate- rial and the content.

A great Hindu expression beyond the confines of India is the work of the Khmers, who, apparently of Indo- Chinese origin, had settled in Cambodia (Fig. 207A), whither came Hindu colo- nists who became the ruling class and developed a high type of civilization from the ninth century to the thirteenth, when they seem to have been annihi- lated by some other race. In the tropical jungles they built their capital city, Angkor, with magnificent temples and palaces of a fine native limestone, cut and laid precisely and carved lavishly (Fig. 370A).

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 369

[a] Birth of the Ganges River. Detail of the cliff carving at Mamallapuram. 8 th cent.

The great temple, the Angkor Wat (Fig. 37 1 a), is laid out on a vast scale. It stands as the focal point of a rec- tangular area divided into smaller rec- tangular areas all related to the long axis. The various parts — low build- ings, courts, avenues, and stairways — form a logical progression from the moat-protected outer walls and the outer court to a higher inner court sur- rounded by porticoes and accented by corner towers, and thence to the high- est court. Here the shrine, resting on a lofty platform, lifts its five pagodalike pointed towers to dominate the sur- rounding jungle. The lavish carvings, which in their style seem to show an influence from Java, are subordinate to the architecture and at the same time highly enriching. Low reliefs cover the walls inside the porticoes, animating their surfaces but remaining an in- separable part of the stone masonry.

Figure 370A is a detail representing a battle scene from the Mahabharata. The army is marching through the jungle, whose lacelike foliage carved in

a pattern of very low relief forms a con- trasting background for the vigorous figures in higher relief. The unchanging rhythm of the marching troops is bro- ken by the spirited movement of the horsemen and the elephant; and the delicate carving of the foliage is op- posed by the strong accents of the um- brellas and the animals. The effect of such opposition and interweaving is analogous to that of a musical com- position in which the cellos weave a deep-toned melody through the more delicate tones of the wind instruments. The highly decorative quality results partly from the conventional, linear character of the forms, partly from the shallowness and clear definition of the planes that indicate depth, and partly from the manner in which these planes reflect the light in a pattern of con- trasting broken and unbroken areas.

When the Muhammadans had es- tablished their empire in India, their wealthy rulers, the great Mughals, or Moguls, erected magnificent tombs and mosques, palaces and audience

[a] Angkor Wat, Cambodia. Detail of the carving showing a scene from the Mahabharata. 1 2 th cent. ( Giraudon )

MEDIEVAL ART

halls, according to certain traditions from the West — a dome over a tomb, the pointed arch, the minaret, the ab- sence of sculpture — fused, as was the wont of the Muslim, with local features.

The highest embodiment of Mughal architecture is the Taj Mahall 1 (Fig. 37 1 b) , a cubical structure surmounted by one large and four small domes, standing upon a high platform with four minarets, and set in the midst of a rich tropical garden. The impres- sion of lightness, delicacy, and grace results from at least four elements: the material, the control of light and dark, the open design, and the setting in a

1 Meaning “Crown of Palaces,” the tomb built by Shah Jehan, one of the great Moguls, for his beautiful and gifted young wife, Mum- taz-i-Mahall, a name that means “Exalted of the Palace,” from which the name of the build- ing is derived. .

larger design of contrasting elements. The material is white marble inlaid with delicate floral designs worked out in precious stones, with inscriptions about the arches, and delicately carved panelings and low relief of floral motifs, all of which produces a subtle modula- tion of surface. Everything tends to a diffused light, with no strong contrasts such as are found when strongly salient cornices and moldings are used. The deep recessing of the portal and the windows provides just enough shadow to set forth clearly the dominant motif of the pointed arch that leads to the pointed lotus dome contracted at the base (contrast Figs. 177A, 259A), which springs from a row of conventionalized lotus petals and terminates in an in- verted lotus. A lightness in design is secured through the large open spaces, subtly proportioned, between the solid

HINDU: BRAHMANIGAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 371

MEDIEVAL ART

372

[a] Carved Marble Window. Ahmadabad. 15th cent.

central mass and the minarets, which are tied together by the platform. Though the tomb is itself a complete unit of design, it attains its entire effect only when seen in its setting of tropical foliage and gardens with flanking mosques and gateways of red sand- stone. By means of such contrasts a floating, almost evanescent quality is given the focal point of the entire de- sign — the tomb itself — with the re- sult that its total impression becomes a symbol of the grace and beauty of the queen for whom it was built. It was symbolical rather than representative, since Shah Jehan and the other Mu- ghal rulers, while they were not strict Muhammadans and had adopted much of the Hindu thought and point of view, still had deeply ingrained in their tra- dition the Islamic aversion to repre- senting the human figure, especially in

connection with a tomb or a mosque. Furthermore, to Muslim and Hindu alike the highest kind of expression em- ployed the symbol, with its emphasis upon inner significance, rather than that representation which aims to copy outward appearance.

In the interior of the Taj, which is of the same materials and workmanship as the exterior, a mellow light filters through carved marble windows upon the cenotaphs of Mumtaz-i-Mahall and Shah Jehan , 1 which stand beneath the dome surrounded by a screen of marble carved into a lacelike design and bor- dered with floral inlays.

The marble window, which played an important part in Hindu build-

1 Shah Jehan’s plan for his own tomb to be built on the other side of the river and connected with the Taj by a bridge was never carried out because of disasters in the latter part of his reign.

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 373

[a] Krishna Quelling the Serpent Kaliya. Rajput. 18th cent . Coomaraswamy Collection , Boston. ( A . K. Coomaraswamy)

ing, was made by carving a slab of Muhammadans had conquered large marble until it was perforated by parts of the country and established the tracery, sometimes with geometric and Mughal Empire, bringing with them sometimes with naturalistic motifs (Fig. strong influences of the art of the West. 372 a) of infinite variety. The paintings fall into two classes:

Rajput and Mughal.

r , The Rajput, so called because it was

PAJ.JN 1 !JNu practiced chiefly in the Rajput domain,

After the time of the Ajanta Frescoes , particularly in the Himalaya valleys

Buddhist in theme, a great gap occurs beyond the reach of the Muhammadan

in the history of painting in India, ex- power, was a purely indigenous art and

cept for traces of the tradition in Tur- seems to continue the traditions of the

kestan and Tibet, where the art was Ajanta Frescoes, though in it we find a

practiced as it spread along the great wider expression: themes from secular

highways toward China in the early life, often romantic, stories from the

centuries of the Christian era. It is not heroic days of the Mahabharata and

until about 1550 that we again find Ramayana, and illustrations from the

examples of Indian painting. In the lives of the gods, particularly Vishnu,

meantime important events had taken Another difference between these paint-

place. Buddhism had been absorbed by ings and those at Ajanta is that they

Brahmanism and the cults of Vishnu are small, though their largeness of de-

and Shiva had been developing. The sign may well suggest lineal descent

374

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Necklace Pendant. Polished stones set in gold, (A. K. Coomaraswamy )

from the great Buddhist frescoes. Krishna Quelling Kaliya, a poisonous serpent (Fig. 3.73A), is a typical example. Krishna, one of the numerous incarna- tions of Vishnu, stands holding the body of the serpent easily, through his godlike power, pressing upon it with his foot. On each side are grouped the wives of the serpent, half human, half reptile, tenderly grieving for him and pleading with Krishna to spare him; on the bank Krishna’s family and the cowherds are frantically rushing to the edge of the pool; in the background herds are peacefully grazing. The color is clear and intense; the color areas meet sharply, and thus accentuate the linear character of the design, which consists of two asymmetrically balanced groups. In the Krishna group the god himself, framed by the serpent, forms the center of interest, with the wives arranged symmetrically on either side, each expressing by pose and gesture her tender love or earnest pleading. At the same time each figure, especially the long sweeping curve of the reptilian form, plays its part in a composition of repeated lines and shapes set over against the conventionalized waves of

the pool. By repetition of color areas and shapes, unity is established be- tween the two groups and the two areas, sharply divided though they are by a great curving edge . 1

The second group, the Mughal or Mogul, is less Indian than the other. When the Mughals came to India, they brought with them painters who had been trained in the Persian school, and their art, combining with the native Hindu elements, formed the foundation of Mughal painting. But while Rajput painting was lyrical and religious, hav- ing its roots deep in the soil of native traditions, Mughal painting was secu- lar. It was a miniature art chiefly. Its interest lay primarily in the picturesque aspect of human life, chiefly that of the palace; for it flourished under the patronage of the Mughal rulers and nobles, and aimed to give a vivid pic- ture of court scenes and persons, hunts and night scenes, animals and flowers.

METALWORK, CARVING, TEXTILES

The Hindu craftsman was an im- portant member of Indian society and was provided for economically by the system of that society. The monastery had its guilds of painters, sculptors, and metalworkers to decorate its buildings, and perhaps sent them on to another monastery when its own work was done. The noble had, as part of his household,

1 Reproduced in color in the Burlington Maga- zine, Vol, XX (19x1-12), p. 315. For the story see Sister Nivedita (M. E. Noble) and A. K. Coomaraswamy, Myths op the Hindus and Bud- dhists, p. 226. An interesting aspect of Rajput painting is its relation to music. Many examples display a deep feeling of tenderness, and are of a lyrical mood that evokes the same emotion as music. Thus they are known as ragas, or raginis, that is, a melody or a musical theme. On this see A. K. Coomaraswamy, Rajput Painting, 2 vols., Oxford University Press, 1916, or his The Arts & Crafts of India & Ceylon, Lon- don, 1913.

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 375

[a] Ceremonial Dipper. Silver and ivory. L. 18 in. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. [Victoria and Albert Museum)

his goldsmith to make the jewelry and plate for his family. The boy inherited his father’s calling and belonged to the guild, which was under the protection of the king. 1

Among the metalworkers the gold- smith was of great importance, for jewelry played a considerable part in Indian costume, both for men and for women. 2 It was used not only for per- sonal adornment but for the trappings of state elephants and for palace hang- ings. Girdle chains originated in the old Hindu custom of decking the body with garlands of flowers and seeds. In order to keep the chain light in weight, the beads were made hollow and in filigree. Like the Greek, the Indian recognized the value of gold and silver as a medium for expression in itself without the addition of jewels. When he used gems, he did not facet them but only smoothed them off, thus obtaining a deep and glowing rather than a flashing effect. A special use of gems was made by inlay. Tiny pieces of ruby, sapphire, emerald, or topaz were em- bedded in a thin gold plate, producing

1 On this situation see A. K. Coomaraswamy, The Indian Craftsman, London, 1909, and Medieval Sinhalese Art, Broad Campden, 1908.

2 See Coomaraswamy, The Arts and Crafts of India and Ceylon p. 1 51, for a description of the costume of the maids of honor of an Indian

the effect of enamel. In this the In- dian revealed his skill in massing color harmonies, and out of almost valueless bits created an unsurpassed piece of rich decoration. The pendant to the chain in Figure 3 74 a is an example of this. The general shape is suggested by a bird with outspread wings. There is no thought of giving a realistic repre- sentation of the bird form; the aim is to use only the essential elements to ob- tain decorative beauty. “To wear a real bird . . . would be barbarous; to imitate a real bird very closely . . . would be idle; but all that is beautiful in the general idea of a bird, colour, form, and poise, can be suggested.” 3

Further evidence of the Indian love of ornament we see in the wood and ivory carvings. The sacrificial dipper (Fig. 375A), for example, is an elaborate design of curves. One great sweeping curve forms the structural line of the handle; but it is varied and emphasized by minor curves, swirling now this way and now that but entirely subordinated to the main line of direction. The bowl of the dipper shows the skill of the silver- smith, for the rich design is superbly executed. The union of the two parts, however, is not successfully accom- plished by the curious, elaborately be-

3 Coomaraswamy, Medieval Sinhalese Art ,

37 6

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Embroidered Muslin. Collection of Leslie de Saram , Colombo . {A. K. Coomara- swamy)

jeweled little figure that distracts and weakens the construction at that point.

One of the most important crafts of India has always been weaving, and the chief material, cotton. The muslins from Dacca are so sheer that they have received poetic names such as “running water” or “evening dew,” the latter because the fabric is so delicate that if laid on wet grass it is scarcely visible. When these delicate muslins are em- broidered they have the effect of ex- quisite lace (Fig. 376 a ). Cotton textiles served not only for garments and tur- bans but also for hangings, bedspreads, and other furnishings. From their na- tive names are derived many of our own words for cotton fabrics, such as chintz and bandanna , For decorating these cottons, several processes were employed, chiefly printing and paint- ing. In one, cotton was first sized with buffalo milk to keep the color from run- ning. The design was drawn on paper and punched on the prepared cloth.

Some of the colors were painted in by hand; others, especially the blue, were dyed so that the color would be more permanent. To do this, all the parts except those to be colored blue were covered with wax, and the entire piece put into the dye pot. After the material was taken from the pot, the wax was re- moved with boiling water, and succes- sive colors were added with paint or dye. In a repeat pattern, wood-block stamps were sometimes used. The colors of the old Indian cottons are very lasting, and their soft tones of rose, blue, and blue-green have been acquired through time and frequent washing.

Many of the woven fabrics were made of silk interwoven or brocaded with gold. The beauty of their designs arises from the same attitude toward natural appearance as that seen in the jewelry: the ability to see in the bird or the ani- mal form a pattern suitable for the weaving technique.

One other kind of textile needs men- tion, the Cashmere. The weavers of Cashmere, well up in the Himalayas in northern India, used goat’s wool for their shawls, weaving them on small looms in long strips, which they sewed together so skillfully that the seaming is scarcely perceptible. The charac- teristic motif is the pine pattern, prob- ably originating in the cypress tree of Persian art, while the ground or bor- der is filled with small floral designs. The beauty of color and design in these shawls is equaled by the supreme skill shown in the weaving.

SUMMART

Hindu art from the earliest times to the recent decadence of India has been chiefly a religious art, strictly obedient to accepted canons of technique and representation. An exception was the stronger secular element brought by the Muslim. Thus it does not surprise

HINDU: BRAHMANICAL, MUHAMMADAN-HINDU 377

one to find the same ideology and atti- tudes toward form in Hindu art in both ancient and medieval times. Though Buddhism was submerged in a renas- cence of Brahmanism, temple-building continued on a great scale: towering stone temples, as well as cave temples of Vishnu and Shiva, lavishly decorated both inside and outside with sculptural ornament which was an integral part of the structure both as ornament and as subject matter: scenes from the lives of Vishnu and Shiva and from the Maha- bharata and the Ramayana.

Painting also, in the tradition of the Ajanta Frescoes , but small in scale (illus- trated by Rajput painting), represented both Brahmanical and secular themes, in a form constructed chiefly of line and brightly colored areas. The coming of the Muslim brought Islamic elements which, mingling with Hindu, culmi- nated in the Taj Mahall in architecture and in the paintings of court life which are definitely influenced by Persian painting. Through all Hindu and Mu- hammadan-Hindu art runs the thread of skilled craftsmanship — in the metal- work seen in sumptuous jewelry; in fine weavings in silk, cotton, and brocaded fabrics for garments and furnishings; in wood-carvings and ivory-carvings for ritual as well as household use.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baker, George, Calico Painting and Printing in the East Indies in the XVIIth and XVIIIth Cen- turies, London, 1921

Bezemer, Tammo, J., Indonesian Arts and Crafts , The Hague, 1931

Bhagavad-gita, tr. by A. W. Ryder, University of Chicago Press, 1929

Bhagavad-gita, tr. by Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood, Marcell Rodd Company, 1944

Binyon, Laurence, The Court Painters of the Grand Moguls, Oxford University Press, 1921

Birdwood, Sir George Christopher Molesworth, The Industrial Arts of India, 2 vols., London, 1880

Brown, Percy, Indian Painting, 2d ed., Oxford University Press, 1929

— ■ — — — — Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. r 55 o to A.D. ijgo, Oxford University Press, 1924

Burlingame, Eugene W., tr., Buddhist Parables, Yale University Press, 1922 Cohn, William, Indische Plastik, Berlin, 1923 Coomaraswamy, Ananda Kentish, The Arts & Crafts of India & Ceylon, London, 1913

— — — Buddha and the Gospel of Buddhism,

Putnam, 1916

— The Dance of Siva, with preface by

Romain Rolland, Sunwise Turn, 1925

— History of Indian and Indonesian Art,

Weyhe, 1927

— : The Indian Craftsman, London,

1909

— 7 — Medieval Sinhalese Art » Broad

Campden, England, 1 908

— — — Rajput Painting, 2 vols., Oxford

University Press, 1916

• The Transformation of Nature in

Art, Harvard University Press, 1934 Gumming, Sir John Chest, ed., Revealing India's Past, London, 1939

Fischer, Otto, Die Kunst Indiens, Chinas und Japans, Berlin, 1928

Frazer, Robert W., Indian Thought Past and Present, Stokes, 1916

Giles, Herbert A., tr., The Travels of Fa-hsien {399-414 A.D.); or, Record of the Buddhistic Kingdoms, Cambridge University Press,

1923

Grousset, Rene, The Civilizations of the East, tr. by C. A. Phillips, 4 vols., Knopf, 1931-34: Vols. I-II

Grunwedel, Albert, Buddhist Art in India, tr. by A. G. Gibson, London, 1901 Havell, Ernest B., The Ancient and Medieval Architecture of India, Scribner, 1915

— — — — - A Handbook of Indian Art, Dutton,

1921

— — — The Ideals of Indian Art, new ed.,

Dutton, 1921

— — — — — — - Indian Sculpture and Painting, 2d

ed. rev., London, 1928

India Society, Ajanta Frescoes, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1915

Jataka Tales, ed. by H. T. Francis and E. J. Thomas, Putnam, 1916

Ktlidasa, Translations of Shakunlala, and Other Works, by A. W. Ryder, Dutton (Every- man’s library), 1913

Kramrisch, Stella, Indian Sculpture, Oxford Uni- ■ versity Press, 1933

Lin Yutang, The Wisdom of China and India, Random House, 1942

Macdonald, Frederika Richardson, The Iliad of the East, new ed., Lane, 1908

MEDIEVAL ART

378

Mackay, Ernest J. H., Further Excavations at Mohenjo-daro, 2 vols., London, 1938

— — The Indus Civilization, London,

1935

Marshall, Sir John Hubert and others, Bagh Caves, London, 1927

Mohenjo-daro and the Indus Civiliza- tion, London, 1931

— — and Foucher, Alfred, The Monu-

ments of Sancki, 3 vols., London, 1940

Monier-Williams, Sir Monier, Indian Wisdom , 4th ed. enl,, London, 1893

Mukul Chandra Dey, My Pilgrimages to Ajanta and Bagh, Doran, 1925

Mulk Raj Anand, The Hindu View of Art, Lon- don, 1933

Nivedita, Sister (M. E. Noble), and Coomara- swamy, A. K., Myths of the Hindus & Bud- dhists, Holt, 1914

Oman, John C., The Great Indian Epics: The Stories of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, London, 1899

Rowland, Benjamin, and Coomaraswamy, A. K., The Wall-Paintings of India, Central Asia & Ceylon, Merrymount Press, 1938 Smith, Vincent A., A History of Fine Art in India and Ceylon, 2d ed. rev. by K. de B. Codring- ton, Oxford University Press, 1930

• The Oxford History of India, 2d. ed.

rev. and enl. by S. M, Edwardes, Oxford University Press, 1928 With, Karl, Java, Hagen, Germany, 1920 Yazdani, Ghulam, Ajanta, 2 vols. in 4 pts., Pts. 1-2 Oxford University Press, 1930-93 Zimmer, Heinrich, Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization, (Bollingen Series VI) Pantheon Books, 1 946

See also General Bibliography, pages 791-92.

20

CHINESE ART

(A.D. 960 TO DATE)

T HE plateau of Iran formed a bridge between the West and the Far East, over which, in early times, the technique of metalwork and later of tiles and enamels passed eastward to China, while Chinese silks and various decorative motifs moved westward and on into Europe, especially with the spread of the Mongol conquests.

To medieval Europe, still chaotic and generally poor, there were coming, by sea as well as by land, the products of the East, together with tales of fabu- lous wealth and luxuries, enough to stimulate a few intrepid travelers to attempt to reach these fabulous lands. The most famous of these was Marco Polo, the Venetian, who eventually made his way to China, where he visited the palace of the Khan in Cathay

(Peking), and the city of Hangchow. Though Jenghiz Khan overthrew the Sung dynasty, his son Kublai Khan fostered the continuity of its culture. This civilization, called the second Golden Age of China, was an age of peace and introspective contemplation; of pursuing the arts of peace; of refusing to realize the growing menace of the Tatar hordes in the north. When these Mongols began their conquests, the Sung moved south, established their capital at Hangchow, and continued their peaceful course until the dynasty was overthrown by Jenghiz Kahn in 1280.

The three-hundred-year span of the Sung dynasty produced an age of great refinement, one of exquisite painting, poetry, and porcelain. Its capital at

CHINESE ART

Hangchow was one of the most civilized cities in the world in the twelfth cen- tury. This age, in one aspect, is analo- gous to the Renaissance in Europe in that both ages produced great states- men, philosophers, poets, art critics, painters. Like the Renaissance, the Sung dynasty found its ideal in earlier periods, as we see in the deep study that the commentators made of the canoni- cal books of Confucius, and in the Chou motifs that we find on the slender, typi- cally Sung-shaped bronzes. In this pe- riod, philosophy, poetry, and painting together produced the finest of the Chi- nese landscape paintings.

An important source of inspiration of this art was Zen Buddhism. Zen, mean- ing “meditation in supreme repose,” was brought to China by an Indian prince in the sixth century, and since many of its ideas were close in spirit to those of the Taoists, took deep root, especially in South China. “Their [Zen Buddhists’] training was centered on the methods of that self-control which is the essence of true freedom. Deluded human minds groped in dark- ness, because they mistook the attribute for the substance. Even religious teach- ings were misleading, in so far as they set up semblances for realities. This thought was often illustrated by the simile of monkeys attempting to seize the reflection of the moon in water; for each effort to snatch at the silvery image could but ruffle the mirroring surface, and end in destroying not only the phantom moon but also themselves. ...Freedom, once attained, left all men to revel and glory in the beauties of the whole universe. They were then one with nature, whose pulse they felt beating simultaneously within them- selves, whose breath they felt themselves inhaling and exhaling in union with the great world-spirit.” 1

1 Kakuzo Okakura, Ideals of the East , Dutton, 1921, p, 162, by permission of the publishers.

“The fundamental principle of . . . Zen Buddhism may be summed up in the expression that the Universe is the scripture of Zen. . , . Actual scripture is worthless in the letter, and only valu- able for that to which it leads; and to that goal there are other guides than the written page or spoken word. It is related, for example, of the sage Huen Sha that he was one day prepared to deliver a sermon to an assembled con- gregation, and was on the point of be- ginning, when a bird was heard to sing very sweetly close by; Huen Sha de- scended from his pulpit with the remark that the sermon had been preached. . . .

“It is the very heart of ‘culture’ and religion to recognize the eternal, not as obscured but as revealed by the tran- sient, to see infinity in the grain of sand, the same unborn in every birth, and the same undying in every death. These thoughts find constant expression in the poetry and art inspired by Zen thought. The Morning Glory, for example, fad- ing in an hour, is a favorite theme of the Japanese poet and painter. What are we to understand by the poem of Mat- sunaga Teitoku?

“ ‘The morning glory blooms but an hour, and yet it differs not at heart

From the giant pine that lives for a thousand years.’

“It is the same with the pine as with the morning glory, but as the life of the latter is shorter, it illustrates the prin- ciple in a more striking way. The giant pine does not ponder on its thousand years, nor the morning glory on its life of a single day. Each does simply what it must. Certainly the fate of the morn- ing glory is other than that of the pine, yet their destiny is alike in this, that they fulfil the will of Providence, and are content.” 2

2 Coomaraswamy, Buddha and the Gospel of Buddhism, Putnam, 1916, pp. 254 ff., by per- mission of G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

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MEDIEVAL ART

[ a ] Tung Tuan. Landscape. Sung Dynasty , late 10th

PAINTING

In content and in spirit, Sung paint- ing is largely an expression of Zen Buddhism. The painters were motivated by their great love of nature, by their belief in the universal brotherhood of all forms of life, in which man is not the apogee but merely one of countless equally important animate beings. “Wherein lies the reason that good men so much love landscape?” asks Kuo Hsi, born about 1020 a . d . “It is be- cause amid orchards and hills a man has ever room to cultivate his natural bent; because streams and rocks never fail to charm the rambler who goes whistling on his way. It is because fish- ing and wood-gathering are the natural vocations of the hermit or recluse, hard by where the flying birds and chatter- ing apes have made their home. Noise and dust, bridles and chains — these are what man’s nature is ever weary of. Haze and mist, saints and fairies -- for these man’s nature pines eternally, and pines in vain. ” 1 Thus the Chinese

1 Quoted in Arthur Waley, An Introduction to the Study of Chinese Painting, 1923, p. 189, used by permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons.

reached the concept of landscape as suitable subject matter for painting hundreds of years before the Euro- peans, with their strongly humanistic attitude, began to realize its value for its own sake. The Chinese word for “landscape” means “mountains and rivers.” This is not surprising to anyone who has looked over a considerable number of Chinese paintings. Upon close inspection, however, he realizes that the forms of the mountains and the waters are highly conventional. For the Chinese had evolved certain formu- las based upon intimate knowledge and keenly realistic observation of nature, distilled until the result is an abstract convention.

For example, there were sixteen ways of drawing mountains, differing accord- ing to the geological formation, the flora, and the season — the sixteen “mountain wrinkles,” the Chinese called them. The names of a few of them — “wrinkled like hemp fibers,” “wrinkled like tangled hemp fibers,” “wrinkled like confused brushwood,” “wrinkled like a thunderhead,” “wrin- kled like eddying water, ” £ ‘wrinkled like horses’ teeth” — reveal a keen observa-

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cent. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. ( Boston Museum)

tion of nature and also a direct, sug- gestive method of expressing the idea. Likewise there were laws governing the painting of water. “In regard to painting moving waters, whether deep or shallow, in rivers or brooks, bays or oceans, Chinanpin [a Chinese teacher] declared it was impossible for the eye to seize their exact forms because they are ever changing and have no fixed definite shape, therefore they can not be sketched satisfactorily; yet, as mov- ing water must be represented in paint- ing, it should be long and minutely contemplated by the artist, and its general character — whether leaping in the brook, flowing in the river, roaring in the cataract, surging in the ocean or lapping the shore — observed and re- flected upon, and after the eye and memory are both sufficiently trained and the very soul of the artist is satu- rated, as it were, with this one subject and he feels his whole being calm and Composed, he should retire to the pri- vacy of his studio and with the early morning sun to gladden his spirit there attempt to reproduce the movement of the flow; not by copying what he has seen . . . but by symbolizing according

to certain laws what he feels and re- members .” 1

This discussion is valuable not only because it gives one an insight into the conventions that governed the painters, but also because it explains something of Chinese methods of working. Funda- mentally, the method consisted of long contemplation — that is, mental and visual preparation — • followed by rapid execution as a result of highly trained technical skill and the indelible nature of ink painting. The great Wu Tao-tzu, a well-known story says, was ordered by the emperor to paint for him one of his favorite scenes of river and moun- tain landscape. Thither the painter went. When he returned and was asked for his sketches, he replied, “I have it all in my heart,” and then, in a single day, he threw off a hundred miles of landscape.

Technical training required com- plete control of brush strokes, which are the elemental and visual means of

1 H. P, Bowie, On the Laws of Japanese Paint- ing , Elder, 1911, p. 61, by permission of the publishers. For Illustrations of these conventions see Benjamin March, Some Technical Terms of Chinese Painting, Waverly Press, 1935.

382

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Ma Yuan. Bare Willows and, Distant Mountains. Sung Dy- nasty , 13th cent. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. (. Boston Museum )

expression. Each stroke has its character and vitality, and each is an embodi- ment of that which the creative mind and spirit are trying to objectify. “Brush strokes . . . indicate the move- ment of the mind, its direction, its speed, its duration, its strength. . . . Expression in a picture, as in writing, is the result of the action of the mind travelling through the brush. . . . Per- fect control of the brush coupled with fine thought makes a picture worthy.” 1

A scroll (Fig. 38 oA)will illustrate these matters. Here is a typical landscape of mountains, rivers, and illimitable dis- tance. As you slowly unroll the painting, there is spread out before you a pano- rama of great spaciousness, strongly characteristic of the bold mountainous country of China: a foreground of sparsely wooded country traversed by streams, with a pavilion and a few fisher-

1 Kojiro Tomita, “Brush Strokes in Far Eastern Painting,” Eastern Art. Vol. Ill (1931), pp. 29 ff. ,

men casting their lines where the land juts out into the sea. Behind, rise majestic mountains, rocky, partly wooded, with intermittent valleys filled with mist, and in the highest, a pagoda, in the distance, another range of mountains. What per- haps impresses us first is the bold rhythm in the upward thrust of the massive mountains, which slows down as the land tapers off into the quiet water and then is repeated by the dis- tant range. Notice how these rhythms are interwoven like the contrasting themes in music, each evoking in the spectator a changing mood. This com- parison between Chinese landscape painting and music Dr. Laufer ex- pressed when he said: “We shall better appreciate Chinese painting, if we try to conceive it as having no analogy with our painting, but as being akin to our music. Indeed, the psychological difference of Chinese painting from our own mainly rests on the basis that the Chinese handle painting, not as we

CHINESE ART 383

handle painting, but as we handle music, for the purpose of lending color to and evoking the whole range of sen- timents and emotions of humanity. In depth of thought and feeling, the great Tang masters, in their symphonic com- positions, vie with Beethoven, and in line and color almost reach Mozart’s eternal grace and beauty.” 1 Looking at the scroll in detail, we see that the rocks and the various kinds of trees are all painted according to the Chi- nese pictorial language of brush strokes, and that distance is suggested by gra- dations in tone.

Highly expressive of the quintessence of mood, and also of skill in the use of space and asymmetrical balance, are the album leaves and the small paint- ings of birds and flowers, which are ex- quisite as expressions of nature and as compositional masterpieces. In Figure 382A, against open space and mountains soaring above the mist rise two willow trees, whose branches sweep over a foot bridge that leads across a quiet water to buildings in a wood at the foot of the mountain; at the extreme right, a trav- eler approaches the bridge. “The im- portant thing about willows is that their branches hang down, for if they did not hang down, they would not be willows. It is important that the branches be long, for otherwise they cannot sway gracefully in the wind. What then would be the use of their hanging down? This tree is a place where the cicadas love to rest, as well as the birds. It is to the credit of this tree that we often hear music in the air and do not feel lonely in summer.” 2

Here again the rhythm of nature and the meaning of nature are distilled into a quintessence and objectified picto-

1 Berthold Laufer, “A Landscape of Wang Wei,’’ Ostasiatische Zeitschnft, 1912, p. 54.

2 Lin Yutang, My Country and My People. John Day, 1939, p. 326, quoting a Chinese writer of the seventeenth century.

[a] Ting Porcelain Bowl. D. in. Sung Dynasty. Art Institute of Chicago: ( Art In- stitute) The carved decoration shows two ducks swimming in a lotus pond.

rially by brush strokes which, deli- cate in the willow, sweep downward in graceful curves toward the more force- ful angular strokes in the lower branches and the gnarled trunk, and suggest the living quality in all parts of the tree. In the mountains, the strokes and broad washes suggest their massive solidity. Thus two dominant contrasting rhythms interweave, and as they inter- weave they incorporate minor rhythm, as in the trees and shrubs. Composi- tionally, the painting is a design of light and dark and line — predomi- nantly curved lines, stabilized by verti- cals in the willows and horizontals in the bridge and the low-lying part of the landscape. The mass of mountains is balanced by space, and both are skillfully tied together by the willow. Such a masterly use of space as an ele- ment of design is one of the contribu- tions of the Chinese painters. Though we may see the painting as flat pattern, it actually suggests great depth. By means of line, but primarily by grada- tion of tone, the eye is carried from the foreground willow diagonally in to the

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384

buildings and the nearer woods; then to the farther woods and, after an up- ward leap to the crest of the nearer mountains, to the far-distant peaks.

Such paintings are as evocative of mood as Chinese poems:

“On Lady’s Table Mountain-top spring snows melt;

By the roadside apricot-flowers bud on tender twigs.

My heart is ready; I long to go. Yet when shall the day be?

Sadly I watch the homeward coach roll over the field-bridge.”

— Yang E-Shih {about 800 , writ- ten when detained in the city)

“From the thick bamboos the last rain- drops drip;

On the high hill-top lingers the eve- ning light.”

— Hsia-Hou Shen {8th century, 2nd half ) 1

This purpose on the part of the Chi- nese painters to emphasize the vital essence of things rather than their ex- ternal appearance is particularly true of the paintings of flowers and birds. Probably no other people have felt so deeply and so sympathetically as the Buddhists the unity and harmony of all animate life. The Zen Buddhists in particular arrived at an expression of this significance that is amazing in its intimate knowledge of form, its sim- plicity and subtlety. It is interesting to note that these lovers of nature did not personify its forms. The mountain, the bird, or the flower is an entity with its own attributes as individual, as ma- jestic, or as delicately graceful as human life, and as important a member of the universe as man. Hence it was not necessary to visualize it in terms of man. Technically, these paintings of the Zen Buddhists are astonishing. Color

1 Waley, op. tit., pp. 193-94, by permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons.

was usually abandoned and ink only used, applied with a few quick but amazingly vital strokes. Rarely has the world seen an expression so ephemeral, and at the same time so quivering with life, accomplished with such a minimum of means.

POTTERY

Sung porcelain reflects the same spirit as Sung painting — an exquisite- ness, a quiet elegance, reflecting a highly refined taste. True porcelain was made in the T'ang dynasty, when we hear of cups used as musical instru- ments because of their resonancy. Famous wares were made for the royal and princely families, with experiments in glazing at the requirement of the emperor to the end that the fabric be as “blue as the sky, as clear as a mirror, as thin as paper, and as resonant as a musical stone of jade.” Judging from the extraordinary praise with which Chinese writers describe this ware, this imperial order must have been well met. No example of it is extant so far as we know. It evidently served as a challenge to the Sung potters, as we discern some of these qualities in the wares of that period.

In the Sung dynasty porcelain reached a climax. Though some of the fabrics were functional — bowls, flower- pots, teapots, and tea bowls — many were fashioned to be enjoyed simply for their intrinsic beauty of form. Every Chinese gentleman owned a few pieces which, together with his paintings and bronzes, constituted the family heir- looms. According to Sung taste, these fabrics were of a subtly simple shape with a monochrome glaze. Many were small in size. Attention focused on pro- portions and relationship of parts; on turning to a meticulous finish and often to an eggshell thinness; and on the se- lection of just the right color of glaze to

CHINESE ART

385

set off the shape. One of the most deli- cate wares was the Ting (Fig. 383 a). Ting bowls are thin, often translucent, covered with white glaze of subtly vari- ous tints, such as cream or the palest blue; and sometimes decorated with an almost imperceptibly incised or relief pattern. Very different is the stout Chun ware (Fig. 385 a), a porcellaneous stone- ware with thick walls and covered with a thick glaze richly colored in purplish hues varying from deep-red to pale- blue. Much of the Chun ware consisted of flowerpots frequently used in the gar- den — hence the need of a stout fabric. One of the wares best known in the West was the celadon, 1 glazed in a soft green color that the Chinese likens to young onion sprouts. In the color, and in the smooth texture of the glaze, the celadons are not unlike jade and may have orig- inated in an attempt to reproduce the more valuable stone in a less expensive medium. If a person wanted to compli- ment a potter highly upon his vase, he would tell him that it looked like jade. In a typical Celadon (Art Institute of Chi- cago) there is quiet elegance and re- fined taste. It has a sturdy strength because of the careful proportioning of the parts, especially of the finely curved lip and the slightly spreading base. From this rise conventionalized lance- olate leaf forms, the severity of which emphasizes the easy grace of the peony scroll on the body; on the neck a taper- ing peony pattern meets a broad band of concentrated ridges. This decoration is all in low relief and everywhere plays into the structural lines of the vase. It is covered by a soft green glaze, which, though uniform in hue, is lighter on

1 Celadon, meaning “sea-green,” was origi- nally the name of a shepherd in a seventeenth- century French novel. In the plays of that period the shepherds usually wore sea-green costumes, and the name was applied to the color and then to the Chinese ceramics of this color, which were then coming to the notice of Europeans. The term is European, not Chinese.

[a] Chun Flower Pot. H. 8 in. Grey green to purplish blue. Sung Dynasty. Art Institute of Chicago. ( Art Institute)

the parts in relief and darker where it has collected in the hollows, producing a quietly vibrating harmony.

After the Mongol conquest, a return to a native dynasty, the Ming, stimu- lated a revival of the arts, with par- ticular emphasis on color. Hence in pottery, while the Sung monochromes continued to be made in a white ware, the trend was toward polychrome fabrics made at the imperial kilns, where the potters reached a zenith of technical skill in the difficult problem of keeping the areas of color cleanly separated. Large jars of sturdy proportions were popular, and the colors were kept from running into each other either by in- cising the design so that any superfluous glaze would be held in the furrows, or by running a tiny ridge of clay around the color areas to form a cell (as in cioisonnd enamels) to hold the glaze.

SUMMARY

The Golden Age of the T c ang dy- nasty, with its dignity and dynamic energy, bequeathed to the Sung dy- nasty conventions and techniques which the Sung artists carried to great refine-

MEDIEVAL ART

386

merit. In this dynasty China again reached a Golden Age, and was one of the loftiest civilizations in the world in the twelfth century. Sung China was the Cathay visited by Marco Polo, whose accounts of his travels acceler- ated contacts between a still chaotic, rugged Europe and the refined, lux- urious, cultured East. In the allied fields of calligraphy, poetry, and paint- ing, and in that of ceramics, Sung art attained its climax. Mountain and wa- ter landscapes, sympathetic interpreta- tions of nature, painted according to the old conventions with the utmost skill in Chinese ink on silk and paper; exquisite bird and flower paintings executed with a few highly skilled strokes of the brush — these perhaps represent the climax, though figure work and portraits are not lacking. Porcelain reached its pinnacle both technically and esthetically in the subtly simple Sung fabrics, which re- lied for their effects on shape, propor- tion, and one-color glaze alone. In the following Ming dynasty these mono- chrome porcelains gave way to poly- chrome wares, which, despite their display of technical skill, fell short of the exquisite refinement of the Sung porcelain.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Andcrsson, Johan Gunnar, Children of the Yellow Earth: Studies in Prehistoric China, Mac- millan, 1934

Binyon, Laurence, The Flight of the Dragon , Dutton, 1922

— *— — - — — — Painting in the Far East, 4th ed. rev., Longmans, Green, 1934

Bushell, Stephen W., Chinese Art, 2 vols., Bren- tano’s, 1924

Carter, Dagny Olsen, China Magnificent: Five Thousand Years of Chinese Art, Reynal and Hitchcock, 1935

Carter, Thomas F., Periods of Chinese History (chart), Ginn, 1925

Cohn, William, Asiatische Plastik, Berlin, 1932

Chinese Art, Studio, 1930

Cranmer-Byng, Launcelot A., tr., A Lute oj Jade, Dutton, 1926

Creel, Herrlee Glessner, The Birth of China, London, 1936

Driscoll, Lucy, and Toda, Kenji, Chinese Callig- raphy, University of Chicago Press, 1935 Encyclopaedia Britannica, Chinese Art (Britan- nica Booklet No. 1)

Ferguson, John C., Chinese Painting, University of Chicago Press, 1927

Fischer, Otto, Die Kunst Indiens, Chinas und Japans, Berlin, 1928

Fry, Roger Eliot, and others, Chinese Art, Weyhe, 1925 (Burlington Magazine Monograph) Giles, Herbert A., An Introduction to the History of Chinese Pictorial Art, 2d ed. rev., London, 1918

Glaser, Cur t, Ostasiatische plastik, Berlin, 1925 Hannover, Emil, Pottery & Porcelain, 3 vols., Scribner, 1925

Hirth, Friedrich, Scraps from a Collector’s Note- book, Stechert, 1905

Hobson, Robert L., Chinese Art, Macmillan, 1927

Chinese Pottery and Porcelain, a

vols., Funk & Wagnalls, 1915

— — — and Hetherington, A. L., The Art

of the Chinese Potter, London, 1923 Kelley, Charles Fabens, and Ch’en Meng-chia, Chinese Bronzes from the Buckingham Collection, Art Institute of Chicago, 1946 Koop, Albert J., Early Chinese Bronzes, Scribner,

1925

Kummell, Otto, Die Kunst Ostasiens, 2d ed., Berlin, 1922

Kuo Hsi, An Essay on Landscape Painting, tr. by Shio Sakanishi, Dutton, 1936 Laufer, Berthold, Jade, Chicago Natural His- tory Museum, 1912

Lin Yutang, ed., The Wisdom of China and India, Random House, 1942

March, Benjamin, Some Technical Terms of Chinese Painting, Waverly Press, 1935 Metropolitan Museum of Art, The China Trade and Its Influences (pamphlet), Museum, New York City, 1941

Museum Of Fine Arts, Boston, Portfolio of Chinese Paintings in the Museum, text by Kqjiro Tomita, Harvard University Press, 1933 Okakura, Kakuzo, The Ideals of the East, Dutton, 1921

Petrucci, Raphael, Chinese Painters, tr. by Frances Seaver, Brentano, 1920

Silcock, Arnold, Introduction to Chinese Art, Oxford University Press, 1935

Sir&i, Osvald, The Chinese on the Art of Painting, Peiping, 1936

— - — — Chinese Paintings in American Collec- tions, Paris and Brussels, 1928

— • — ; — Chinese Sculpture from the Fifth to tht

Fourteenth Century , 4 vols., Scribner, 1925

JAPANESE ART

Siren, Osvald, A History of Early Chinese Art , 4 vols., London, 1929-30

- — A History of Early Chinese Painting,

2 vols., London, 1933

Taki, Sei-ichi, Three Essays on Oriental Painting, London, 1910

Waley, Arthur, An Introduction to the Study of Chinese Painting, Scribner, 1923

387

tr., A Hundred and Seventy Chinest Poems, Knopf, 1919

— Zen Buddhism, London, 1922

Warner, Langdon, Buddhist Wall Paintings, Har- vard University Press, 1938 Yetts, Walter P., Symbolism in Chinese Art, Ley- den, 1912

See also General Bibliography, pages 791-92.

21

JAPANESE ART

(A.D. 9OO TO DATE)

T HE influences from Korea, China, and even from India and Iran, had been assimilated when the Fuji- wara family rose to power as the head of an aristocratic Oligarchy centralized at Kyoto. 1 In the Tale of Genji by Mu- rasaki, a gifted writer of the period, one reads of an exquisitely refined society, of a sophisticated etiquette, of con- versing in improvised poetry; of music and festivals and buildings, gardens, paintings, and costumes — * all in a style consistent with the ideals of the period.

With the Kamakura and Ashikaga eras two new elements entered to re- shape this art, one militaristic and one religious. The barons had been usurp- ing the political power of the emperor, and were setting up a military feudal- ism, when early in the thirteenth cen- tury they vanquished the Mongol hordes of Kublai Khan by the help, legend says, of their sun goddess, The shoguns, their commanders in chief, be- came military regents and established a complex feudal system, which under the

1 The periods of later Japanese art are: Fuji* wara, 900-1 190; Kamakura, 1190-1383; Ashi- kaga, 1383-1603; Tokugawa, 1603-1868.

Tokugawas became a tyrannical autoc- racy. The astute statesman Iyeyasu, founder of the line, and his followers strengthened their own power by cre- ating a new nobility of daimios (landed barons) and samurai (military barons), who were loyal because they were under obligation to the shogun for their ex- istence. The Tokugawas also consoli- dated and increased the power of the people, and granted religious toleration. Partly through an appeal to patriotism and partly because of the Mongol and the Muslim power in China, the Toku- gawas cut off relationship with the rest of the world and established that policy of isolation which continued until the downfall of the shogunate in 1868. The religious element which caused a change in art expression con- sisted of another wave of influence from China, in the form of Zen Buddhism, with its revolt from ritual and its em- phasis upon contemplation, through which one attained insight into the essence of the universe and recognized in transient effects and in every seem- ingly insignificant manifestation of nature the underlying ultimate reality.

MEDIEVAL ART

388

ARCHITECTURE

Characteristic buildings were pal- aces for the nobility and Buddhist mon- asteries. The Howodo, or Phoenix Hall — which is the kondo of Byodo-in , one of the few Fujiwara monasteries extant — represents both, as it was originally a residence and was later converted into a monastery. As a residence, it faced south and overlooked a garden pond. Even a humble Japanese home with- out a garden is unthinkable. One is immediately struck by the beauty of the site of the Howodo, and by the feel- ing of unity between the building and its environment. The heaviness and the somber massiveness of the Chinese model have given way to lightness and delicacy; the roofs have become lower and less dominating; there is a quiet grace throughout and an exquisite curve of line. The structure consists of a central hall, the highest part, and two projecting pavilions connected with the hall by open corridors; another corri- dor runs back of the hall at right angles to it. This plan suggests a phoenix with outstretched wings, symbolic of the paradise of Amida Buddha. Hence the name.

Though the building is long and low, it conveys no suggestion of monotony. On the contrary, it is filled with a deli- cate rhythmic movement. The verticals of the slender columns, together with the predominant horizontals of plat- form, steps, and entablature, serve as a support both structurally and estheti- cally for the roofs, which form a rhyth- mic interplay of low-swung curves. The vermilion color of the structure, with ac- cents of gilded metalwork, is reflected in the pool and enhanced by the in- terplaying green of the trees. The in- terior, like that of Horyuji, is gorgeous in its splendor. Carvings and black lacquer inlaid with ivory, mother-of- pearl, and silver cover the coffered

ceiling, from which a canopy of wood, carved to a lacy delicacy, is suspended above the great gold-bronze Trinity group. On the walls are paintings of multitudes of Bodhisattvas worshiping Amida. The whole effect in the softened light is one of rich, somber glow, com- parable to that of Byzantine mosaics.

With the ascendancy of the feudal lords, far more attention was concen- trated on domestic architecture. Feudal palaces, built on lofty stone walls sur- rounded by moats for the purpose of defense, consisted of a group of stately residences connected by galleries and facing an inner court, with towers for lookouts. The Japanese house, palace or modest home, followed a general plan which is peculiarly Japanese. Love of nature impelled the Japanese to bring nature into his everyday life by means of gardens, with which he so combined the house as to attain an ex- traordinary unity within a variety of forms and textures, even when working on a small scale. In plan, the house had one room slightly higher than the others, with an alcove (the tokonama) for the display of some treasure. The other rooms were separated from it by sliding screens, frequently decorated with paintings. The ceiling, as in the temples, was resplendent with rich color, gold, and lacquer. The floor, on the other hand, was most unobtrusive, for it was covered with simple straw mats. Equally unpretentious were the furnishings. To the eye of the Westerner, a Japanese house looks unfurnished (Fig. 389A). But he is compelled to admit that it has a satisfying serenity. The Japanese seemed to need but little in order to live comfortably. Cushions and a low table (for chairs were non- existent) , a pad for a bed, put away in the daytime — such simple arrange- ments sufficed. Another fact bears wit- ness to this ideal of simplicity: in the tokonama only one or two treasures at

[a] A Japanese Domestic Interior.

JAPANESE ART

a time were displayed — a kakemono, or a fine vase with one rare flower or one carefully selected branch of a blos- soming fruit tree.

The tranquility of Japanese interiors 1 is due partly to this simplicity in fur- nishings and partly to the unerring Japanese recognition of the intrinsic qualities in materials. Great craftsmen in wood, far from hiding its quality with paint, they used eveiy resource to bring out its color, texture, and grain- ing. Likewise with every material. Tile, stucco, and paper were used with a sureness of command over the poten- tialities of the materials, and also with an astonishing ability to integrate them into a form rarely equaled in the field

1 For Japanese domestic interiors see R. A. Cram, Impressions of Japanese Architecture, Baker and Taylor, igos, and Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea , Duffield, 1906.

of domestic architecture. The rooms of the house opened on a long veranda equipped with sliding screens of trans- lucent paper, for the admission of light when closed and for a view of the gar- den When open. For the unity of the house and the garden was the heart of the structure. Japanese gardens Were laid out according to traditional for- mulas. We must not compare them with the flower gardens of the West, but think of them as arrangements of trees, shrubs, stones, water, sand, bridges, lanterns, all skillfully related to one another and to the house, both as to material and as to line, texture, color, and shape, so that together they form an inseparable unity.

Another kind of building also now began to receive the attention of the architects — the mausoleum, of which the tombs at Nikko are perhaps the

390

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Bishamon, the Guardian King of the North. Kuramadera Temple, Kyoto. Wood. Early Fugiwara period. ( J apanese Temples and Their Treasures)

outstanding example. Here magnificent old cryptomeria trees on a hillside serve as a setting into which the buildings with their gorgeous decorations are fitted. Gateways, shrines, and treasure houses are so loaded with polychrome carvings and black-and-gold lacquers, that despite our admiration for the mag- nificence in itself and for the technical skill shown, we yearn for the greater simplicity of Suiko and Fujiwara build- ings. For here at Nikko we witness the floridity of a style that is entering a deca- dence.

SCULPTURE

Zen Buddhism by its very nature would not incline toward sculpture for expression, but toward the more ephem- eral art of painting. Hence with the decline of the need for Buddhistic statues — though the Kamakura age produced the impressive Daibutsu ( Great Buddha ) of Kamakura — we see the emergence of two kinds of sculpture. One kind consisted of portraits — again an influence of the individualistic strain of Zen — which were realistic in detail, but which subordinated this detail to a vivid, forceful characteriza- tion. The other kind consisted of mil- itaristic subjects. A martial, national- istic spirit, exemplified in statues of the god of war, had already appeared even as early as the Nara period. These statues were as vital an epitome of forceful power as the Suiko Kwannons were of calm beneficence. In Figure 390A, what impresses us first is an intense energy. As in the portraits, details of modeling are amazingly realistic. Yet this realism is subject to the dominating swing of the firmly planted figure and the dynamic sweep of the drapery.

This sculpture (the portraits and the militaristic statues) constitutes a thoroughly nationalized expression, probably the most characteristically Japanese expression in the sculptural art. From this time on sculpture waned with the rise of the popular schools of painting.

PAINTING

With the ebbing of the tide of Bud- dhist impulse from T‘ang China, Bud- dhist themes changed in character, especially in the Fujiwara age, when, as we would expect from the delicate and almost feminine quality in Fujiwara culture, the more lofty, austere Bodhi- sattvas of Suiko and Nara art became

JAPANESE ART

[a] Heiji Monogatari. The Burning of the Sanjo Palace. Detail . 13th cent. Museum of Fine Arts , Boston. (. Boston Museum)

humanized, even individualized. Their tranquillity and otherworldliness gave way to movement, a delicate movement with gentle rhythms. And now ap- peared the more characteristically Jap- anese painting known as Yamato-e (the painting of Yamato) . Though at times it dealt with religious themes, it was largely a secular art: portraits and illustrations of contemporary life and literature. It thus took for its theme the social, ceremonial, and military life of the aristocracy, as in the scrolls which contain the text and illustrations of the Tale of Genji. Here are scenes from the life of the palace drawn with firm lines which define areas of bright color and gold; and vivacious battle scenes filled with movement (Fig. 391 a).

Parallel to Yamato-e was another school, closely allied to Chinese Sung painting and, like the Chinese, in- spired by Zen Buddhism. This school produced exquisite and refined land- scape and genre paintings. The sim- plicity and directness of Zen thought led these painters to use ink rather than the sumptuous color and gilding char-

acteristic of Yamato painting. Impor- tant among these painters was a Zen priest, Sesshu (about 1420-1506), who painted landscape scrolls that were clearly inspired by Chinese Sung land- scape painting. Sesshu and other paint- ers were particularly successful in their paintings of animals (Fig, 393 a), flowers, and birds, in which the artist, by a few strokes of the brush applied with con- summate mastery of the ink technique, implies and suggests rather than specifi- cally states the content of what he is painting.

A great demand for paintings of both the Yamato and the Sung styles came from the feudal lords, who wanted to decorate the walls and the sliding and folding screens of their palaces. Land- scapes, tree, flower, and bird subjects were popular — now rich in color and gold, even with entire gold grounds, now austerely simple in uncolored ink. The folding screen, by its very make-up of several sections hinged together and used in various positions, posed a com- positional problem, one so successfully solved by the Japanese painters that

392

MEDIEVAL ART

JAPANESE ART

393

[a] Monkeys. Ashikaga period {1383-1603).

these screens constituted a peculiarly J apanese contribution. For the paint- ing required unity not only in the en- tire composition but in each section as well, very much as in the makimono. In the Waves at Matsushima (Fig. 392A) of Korin (died 1716), for example, each of the six sections is a unit of design, largely asymmetrical yet as a whole united into a vigorous pattern that is quite consistent with the theme. The traditional conventions for rocks, water, clouds, and trees express the solidity of the rocks, the tumultuous movement of the surging waves, the gentler motion of the clouds, and the quiet security of the pines on their lofty sites. The effect of the rapid repetition of the restive Wave and crest motifs in juxtaposition to the quiet unbroken areas of the rock motif illustrates Korin’s implicit fol- lowing of the Oriental tradition of painting moving water, 1 and also makes 1 See page 381.

Ryusen Collection , Kyoto. (. Kokka )

the screen both in parts and as a whole superbly decorative.

While Yamato-e depended for its content upon historical scenes and genre, it was the life of the aristocracy that it depicted, not that of the people. In the late Ashikaga age there rose de- mands for an art whose content was based upon the life of the middle and lower classes. In the early part of the Tokugawa period, when these classes were coming into position and wealth, this led to the Ukiyo-e, “pictures of this fleeting world,” illustrations of the everyday life of the people in the streets, trade houses, theaters, and countryside, and in a form within the purchasing ability of the masses. Thus arose in the seventeenth century the Japanese print, made from wood blocks, which was sometimes an illustration in a book and sometimes an individual print. At first the impressions were made in black- and-white only, and if color was used

394

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Toshusai Sharaku. The Actor Segawa Kikunojo III as O-Shizu. 1794. Art In- stitute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

it was added by hand. Then came the invention of printing in two colors and then, in the eighteenth century, the full polychrome process. The output was prolific, the subject matter and the style were varied. There are the strong single figures of actors and beau- ties by Moronobu (1625-1694), the first of Japanese painters to enter the field of designing for the wood block, and by Kiyonobu ( 1664-1 729), large figures which fill the space, and which show in their firm accomplished draw- ing a sound training in the use of Chi- nese ink. There is an easy grace of line and a charm of pattern in the feminine subjects of Harunobu ( 1 725-1770) (Fig. 395A), who is thought to have invented the process of polychrome printing. Notable is the successful design of his pillar prints and of those of Koryusai

(active 1760-1780), very high narrow prints proportioned to fit the pillar of the chief room in the house. There are the powerful dramatic portraits of ac- tors by ShunshS (1726-1793) and Sha- raku (active 1 794-1 795 ) (Fig. 394A) and of popular beauties by Utamaro (1753- 1806). With Kiyonaga (1752-1815), the designs became more complex, and though the figures are on a smaller scale and less monumental, their grouping and elaborate costumes offer material for complicated patterns, and landscape takes the place of the flat ground. With Hokusai (1760-1849) and Hiroshige (1797-1858), landscape became a dom- inant note. While these prints are not considered fine art by the Japanese, they nevertheless show the fundamental principles of the fine art of painting. In their sensitive feeling for space rela- tions; in their skillful maintenance of asymmetrical balance of flat patterns, often very complicated and with marked linear quality; in their accom- plished draftsmanship with a supreme command over line, usually calligraphic but at times so modulated as to express the mass of the figure; in their strangely beautiful color combinations and un- usual point of view, especially in land- scape — in all these excellences they reveal a democratic art of very high attainment.

METALWORK, LACQUER,

TEXTILES, AND POTTERY

The bronze-workers of Japan have always been skillful to an unusual de- gree. The craft was inherited, and the most famous families of craftsmen traced their ancestry back to mythical times. The casting was done by the cire-perdue process, and the finishing by a considerable use of the chisel. Evi- dences of this skill we have already seen in the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas that compose the Trinity groups, and in the

JAPANESE ART

395

screens, lanterns, and decorative figures of the shrines. Important among these metalworkers were the armorers, for the powerful samurai created a de- mand for the finest sword blades and sword furniture. A thorough knowledge of the properties of metals and alloys enabled the swordsmith to obtain vari- ous colors and textures,* for decorations he employed a variety of metal proc- esses in casting, chasing, stamping, and damascening. The blade was made of many layers, each forged and tempered with all the expert skill of generations . 1 This multiplicity of layers causes the watered effect seen in fine blades.

1 For a detailed account of this forging of a sword see Stewart Dick, Arts and Crafts of Old Japan, McClurg, 1905, p. 85.

Lacquer of a distinctive type, black and gold chiefly, sometimes with inlays of mother-of-pearl, played an important role in Japanese interiors. The art of lacquering, like the other arts of Japan, was derived from China, but in the hands of the Japanese attained a qual- ity, both technical and esthetic, ex- ceeding that of any other people in the Far East. Various useful objects — trays and boxes of all kinds, for example — contributed to the elegance of the sparse furnishings of the homes of the nobles. On a larger scale lacquer was used, as we have already noted, as a decorative element in palaces and temples, whose coffered ceilings pro- vided one of the richest decorations possible. Lacquer is a natural varnish

396

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] “ Three Lay Moon ” Tea Bowl . By Jfinsei, a famous iyth cent, potter. Blue , green, and brown glaze on white slip. H. in. (Tojiki Hyakusen)

of exceptional hardness derived from the lac tree. The Japanese usually made the object to be lacquered of thin white pine; covered it with paper or thin hempen cloth; and rubbed and polished it with a whetstone to provide a firm surface for the lacquer, a process remi- niscent of the preparation of a panel for tempera painting. The lacquer was then applied, layer after layer, with much rubbing and polishing. The de- sign was worked Out in gold dust in a variety of ways to produce a variety of effects. It was then covered with a layer of translucent lacquer and again polished (as in the case of cloisonnd enamels). The finished object, by its translucence and polish, appealed both to the eye and to the tactile sense.

Designs of Japanese lacquer range from the simplest patterns to complex pictorial compositions, which are some- times worked out in relief (a technique unique with the Japanese). But, skill- ful though lacquer relief may be tech- nically, its suitability as a decoration for a flat surface is questionable.

Japanese textiles are sumptuous, par- ticularly when metal threads and em- broidery are used to attain such rich effects of color and texture as one finds

in the costumes of the upper classes and especially in the kimonos used in the No plays, in which the patterns are de- signed to harmonize with the rhythms of the dancers. The No drama was a highly formal, dignified performance, appealing to the aristocracy chiefly, in which there was a complete lack of stage setting except perhaps for a gold screen decorated with a pine tree which brought into sharp focus the actors’ elegant robes.

The ceramic art developed late in Japan. For many centuries importations from Korea and China satisfied the de- mands of the aristocracy. But with the introduction of Zen Buddhism and the development of the tea ceremony, the Japanese potters made great ad- vances, especially under the influence of the Sung ceramists of China'. Their tea bowls were of an almost ostenta- tious simplicity, to harmonize with the austerity of the ceremony, and often were made by amateurs in an attempt to avoid sophisticated forms. Their sensitive feeling for coarse pottery shapes, variety of textures, and sim- plicity of decoration is without parallel elsewhere. The tea bowl of Figure 3 96 a has a simple, functionally efficient shape, which provides an effective foil for the decoration — the crescent moon over waves — painted with con- cise but freely flowing lines, a design of deceiving simplicity. This drastic use of stylized forms is typical of the Japanese potters’ work. Polychrome porcelains achieved a distinctively Japanese style, although they were never so popular with the Japanese as were simple pottery forms.

SUMMARY

Though Buddhist architecture con- tinued, emphasis shifted to secular building — the Japanese home, both palatial and modest. Here appears the

JAPANESE ART

Japanese gift for a sensitive use of ma- terials; for an appealing simplicity in furnishings; and for a highly satisfying joining of the building with a garden or natural environment — unity of exterior and interior space, prophetic perhaps of Western twentieth-century domestic building . 1

With the coming of Zen Buddhism sculpture turned in the direction of por- traiture, and with the rise of the sam- urai, to representations of warlike gods.

Painting held a high place in the art of medieval Japan, and was of two chief kinds. The first was secular in theme, representing the life of the aristocracy, and was rich in color and gold. The second, derived from Sung China un- der the influence of Zen Buddhism, followed its Chinese prototype in the ink technique as well as in its sub- ject matter — landscapes, and animal, flower, and bird paintings. Both were arts of the aristocracy.

Other arts contributed to the en- semble: the metalworker provided, among other objects, the fine swords and sword furniture for the samurai; the lacquerer, exquisite objects and deco- rations in black and gold; the weaver, sumptuous costumes for the theater; the potter, under the influence of Sung China, utensils of subtle simplicity for both ceremonial and daily use. With the rise of the middle and lower classes, however, there arose an art of the peo- ple which dealt with their everyday life and in a form economically pos- sible for them — the Japanese print, an art which made use of the same sensi- tive linear and textural pattern and subtle color relations that constantly recur in Japanese art.

1 It may be illuminating to recall that Frank Lloyd Wright, one of the pioneers in the unifica- tion of exterior and interior space in modem domestic architecture, lived for several years in Japan.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anesaki, Masaharu, Art, Life, and Nature in Japan, Marshall Jones, 1933 — — — Buddhist Art in Its Relation to Bud-

dhist Ideals, Houghton Mifflin, 1915 Binyon, Laurence, Painting in the Far East, 4th ed. rev., Longmans, Green, 1934 Cram, Ralph Adams, Impressions of Japanese Architecture and the Allied Arts , Baker and Taylor, 1905

Dawson, Edith (Mrs. Nelson Dawson), Enamels, McClurg, 1911

Dillon, Edward, The Arts of Japan, McClurg,

1909

Ficke, Arthur D., Chats on Japanese Prints, Stokes, 1915

Fischer, Otto, Die Kunst Indiens, Chinas und Japans, Berlin, 1928

Fujii, Koji, The Japanese Dwelling-House, Tokyo, T 93°

Gunsaulus, Helen G., Japanese Textiles, Japan Society of New York, 1941 Harada, Jiro, The Lesson of Japanese Architec- ture, Studio, 1936

“Juraku,” Graphic Collection of Ancient Architec- ture and Gardens of the Orient, 4 vols., Tokyo, 1928-33

Kishida, Hideto, Japanese Architecture, Tokyo, 1935

Kummell, Otto, Die Kunst Ostasiens, ad ed., Berlin, 1922

Minamoto, Hoshu, An Illustrated History of Japanese Art , tr. by G. Henderson, Kyoto, 1935

Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji, tr. by Arthur Waley, 2 vols., Houghton Mifflin, 1935

Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea , Duffield, 1906

• The Ideals of the East, Dutton, 1921
• Priestley, Anna F., How to Know Japanese Colour Prints, Doubleday, Page, 1927
• Sadler, Arthur L., A Short History of Japanese Architecture, Sydney, 1941
• Seidlitz, Woldemar von, A History of Japanese Colour-Prints, Lippincott, 1910
• Taki, Sei-ichi, Japanese Fine Art, Stechert, 1931

— — Three Essays on Oriental Painting,

London, 1910

Tamura, Tsuyoshi, Art of Landscape Gardens in Japan, Dodd, Mead, 1936 Tanaka, Yusaku, No Costumes of Japan, 1573- 1829, Tokyo, c. 1920

Tatsui, Matsunosuke, Japanese Gardens , Bruce Humphries, 1936

Toda, Kenji, Japanese Scroll Painting, University of Chicago Press, 1935

Tsuda, Noritake, Handbook of Japanese Art, Dodd, Mead, 1936

398

MEDIEVAL ART

Victoria and Albert Museum, Japanese Colour Prints , 6th ed., London, 1931 Waley, Arthur, The N 5 Plays of Japan, Knopf,

1922

— The Craft of the Japanese Sculptor.

Japan Society of New York, 1936

Japanese Sculpture of the Suiko

Period, Yale University Press, 1923

With, Karl, Buddhistische Plastik in Japan, Vienna,

1919

Yanagi, Soetsu, F oik- Crafts in Japan, tr. by Shigeyoshi Sakabe, Tokyo, 1936 Yoshida, Hiroshi, Japanese Wood-block Printing, Stechert, 1939

See also General Bibliography, pages 791- 92 -

G^rvocut and Oc

ceaman

22

PRIMITIVE ART

I N our survey of the Middle Ages we have seen an art arise in the Near East under the stimulation of a new faith, Christianity. Coincident with the decline of the Greco-Roman civiliza- tion, the rise and spread of Christianity across Europe stimulated communica- tion between the East and the West and at the same time provided the mo- tive for vigorous new expressions. Al- most parallel, though slightly later, another energizing religion, more mili- tant, spread with amazing rapidity both east and west from its center in Arabia — - Muhammadanism. As it ex- panded, we saw it meet and assimilate influences from China and in turn con- tribute to the art of India in the East, and to the Mediterranean cultures in the West. In this lively intercourse be- tween the Far and Near East and Europe, we see the world shrinking and can already speak of an Eurasia.

Three large areas of the world, how- ever, we saw lay isolated, evolving in- digenous cultures which were to meet, some centuries later, the Eurasian civili- zations, influence them profoundly, and in turn be influenced by them. These areas were Africa (except for Egypt and the coastal fringe of the Mediter- ranean), Oceania, and the Americas.

African Negro Art

I N west-central Africa (Fig. 400A) — on the coast, in the river basins of the Niger and the Congo, in the south- ern reaches of the Sudan —- live a great number of primitive Negro tribes whose origin and history are largely unknown. Some are nomadic or seminomadic herdsmen on the grasslands fringing the forests; some are settled agricul- turalists in clearings of the heavily for- ested regions of the river valleys; all are hunters and fighters. With an ani- mistic religion they people all forms of nature with spirits for whose placation or supplication fetishes are in great de- mand. Dancing and chanting, to the accompaniment of a boldly rhythmic music, and elaborate and awe-inspiring costumes, in which masks feature prom- inently, are important in their ritual,

SCULPTURE

The exigencies of their life, in which a primitive hut serves for a dwelling, and the materials at hand have given rise to a remarkable art of wood- carving: the making and embellishing of objects of everyday and ceremonial

400

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Africa , Showing the Regions ( inclosed by a dotted line) Where Negro Sculpture Is Produced .

use out of the abundant native timber during the abundant leisure time that this way of life affords. Occasionally the carvers have used stone, and more fre- quently ivory or bronze, the technique of whose working the Benin people learned from the Europeans.

As these African tribes vary in lan- guage, customs, religion, and social or- ganization, so the styles of their carving vary, a fact that precludes generaliza- tions that are applicable to all, except that similar habits of visualization, and hence a similar basic style, are observ- able in their carvings. Practically none of the carving has a copy of nature as its objective. On the contrary, the African dissected and distorted the parts of the human or animal figure, and reassembled them not according to nature but according to an esthetic pattern related to the material he was using, the space to be filled, the func- tion of the object, and its symbolic sig-

nificance. The carving has nothing to do with a verisimilitude of natural ap- pearances, though occasionally it may tend thither; but it presents a type of visualization long established by tra- dition and thoroughly intelligible to both the artist and his public.

“Every part in a typical, fully real- ized Negro statue functions as an ele- ment in plastic design: an embodiment, a repetition in rhythmic, varied se- quence, of some theme in mass, line or surface. To be transformed into a de- sign, the human figure must be re- garded in a way quite different from that of ordinary life and of most sculp- ture. It must not be seen as an inviolable whole, treated as one unit and merely posed in this attitude or that. The fig- ure must be dissociated into its parts, regarded as an aggregate of distinct units: the head, limbs, breasts, trunk and so on, each by itself. So distin- guished and usually marked off by a

PRIMITIVE ART

401

surrounding groove or hollow, each part can be moulded into a variation of some chosen theme — a sharp, slen- der projection, or perhaps a smooth, bulbous swelling — never exactly the same as its neighbors, for that would be monotonous; never too far from nature, or completely abstract, for that would destroy its interest as representation, its relevancy to the world of human ex- perience. In the same figure an artist may introduce two or more radically different shapes, perhaps repeating and slightly varying each one. Such con- trast gives, as in musician arresting and interesting shock to the observer. It carries with it a possible loss of unity; the whole piece may seem to fall apart, to be confusingly unrelated. Then the genius of the artist consists in finding means to weld the contrasting themes together by some note common to both.

“Constructed like a building of solid blocks, a typical Negro statue is itself a solid, a full, substantial block, set with convincing, massive reality in its own space .” 1

Take for example a table with a fig- ure support (Fig. 40 1 a ). The cylindrical piece of wood, from which just enough has been cut away to allow the figure to emerge, is clearly felt as a deter- minant of the basic design; its section is retained in the top and the base and its diameter is maintained in the hori- zontal reach of the arms; its shape is repeated in torso, neck, and arms. The figure, compressed into a kneeling posi- tion, emerges from, yet remains rooted in, the semiovoid base through the flattening and distorting of the feet, thus bringing unity and stability to the table as a whole. It then rises through a series 1 Paul Guillaume and Thomas Munro, Primitive Negro Sculpture , Harcourt, Brace, 1926, p. 35, by permission of the publishers. This book presents a lucid exposition of the artistic qualities of Negro sculpture, with detailed analyses of in- dividual pieces. See also Roger Eliot Fry, Vision and Design, “Negro Sculpture,”

[a] Figure Supporting a Table, Wood. Congo, 17th cent. Barnes Collection, Merion, Pa. (Morgan Photo) Note the play on contrasts of circular and angular motifs united by the repetition of cone-shaped volumes.

of outward- and inward-moving masses conoidal in shape and thus with a zig- zag contour, to support the top firmly by the head and the uplifted arms, and by this action secures a vertical as well as a horizontal balance. This play upon masses — ovoids, conoids, cylinders *— is repeated in the surface treatment, in which highly polished surfaces contrast with carved ones. Thus the table as a whole is basically a three-dimensional abstraction in which the parts are as closely related, structurally and esthet- ically, as in any building.

This three-dimensional organization so markedly characteristic of Negro

402

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Ivory Coast Mask. Wood . [b] Portrait of a Benin King. Bronze. Originally sur-

14th cent. Barnes Collection , mounted by a large carved tusk. University Museum,

Merion, Pa. {Morgan Photo) Philadelphia. {University Museum)

sculpture is based upon a generally cylindrical mass — - at times starkly geo- metric, as in the Gabun figures; at times with richly carved surfaces. In contemplating these compositions upon the theme of the cylinder, one ponders on the influence of a naturally cylin- drical material upon the carver and on his daily life among the trees, which furnish him with a material that is soft and easily carved in comparison with stone, and whose continuous rounding surfaces suggest movement in depth to both his visual and his tactile percep- tion. How different will be the work of a carver confronted with a four-sided block of hard, weighty stone that re-

sists every stroke of the chisel and ham- mer! Most of the African carvings are relatively small, and though extraor- dinarily firm and stable, have none of the mighty solidity of stone sculpture.

After the perplexity or even aversion felt by a non-African upon first seeing these carvings has given way to a de- sire for insight and at least a partial understanding, he becomes aware of their intense vitality. Likewise he recog- nizes a superb craftsmanship, and a design which may be entirely abstract to the foreigner but is so obviously filled with intense meaning to the African that it is bound to impress the unpreju- diced observer, however little he may

PRIMITIVE ART

403

[a] Bushman Paint- ings. (Obermaier and Kuhn , Bushman Art, Oxford University Press)

grasp its full import. The masks are an excellent illustration. Masks serve the same function, or rather contribute to the same objective, as the ceremonial chant and dance. They are one of the visual parts of a ritual whose purpose is to inspire awe or fear, and thus must present to the eye of the observer a form that will function to that end. Since the masks are actually worn, they are life- sized or larger, and are highly simpli- fied arrangements of the parts of the face, combined perhaps with a head- dress; and, though in relief only, they show the same attitude toward natural forms as the carvings in the round. In Figure 402 a, for example, there is an interplay of the oval — in the face and its details repeated on a small scale in the headdress — and of the sharply angular zigzag on a large scale above and a small scale below. Likewise, the strong vertical accent balances a rhyth- mic repetition of horizontals.

Metal was used to a limited extent and in primitive ways by the Africans, but in Benin the metalworkers, having learned from the Portuguese the more

advanced process of cire-perdue, created as fetishes bronze heads (Fig. 402B), which probably were ancestor portraits. They were surmounted by elephant tusks elaborately carved with represen- tations of the king and his attendants. Since ancestor worship was an essential part of religious belief and rites, these heads with tusks stood on the altar and symbolized the spirits of the ancestors who were potent in bringing good or evil into the lives of their descendants, and to whom therefore sacrifices were made for the welfare of these descend- ants. In these heads we discern not only a great vitality, but a sensitivity to material in the rounding forms with flowing surfaces, the interplay of smooth and broken surfaces and rounding and angular motifs.

PAINTING

Among the Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert south of the Congo, who were very primitive nomad hunters living in a naturally poor land, paintings on rocks have been found of a character

MEDIEVAL ART

404

quite different in point of view from the African art of which we have been speaking, and strangely like that of the Paleolithic cave painters of France. A visual perception of their world re- duced to essentials and expressed with directness and economy seems to have been their objective (Fig. 403A) . These are not generalized men and animals and movements, but individualized men and animals in an infinite variety of naturalistic poses, even those in- volving foreshortening, such as front and three-quarters views, which indi- cates an extraordinarily keen vision and memory . 1

Oceanian Art

r j ^HE peoples of Oceania are a mixed JL race compounded of the aborig- inal inhabitants of the islands and Asiatics who migrated there. While Paleolithic and Neolithic remains in Java, Sumatra, and Celebes carry hu- man habitation far back into prehistoric times, migrations from the continents appear to be relatively recent, some possibly as late as a few centuries b.c. So vast is the ocean area covered by these islands, and so varied the race and life patterns and art forms, that few generalizations can be made even in one of the main divisions into which they are grouped: Polynesia, Mela- nesia, and Micronesia.

The Polynesians are a finely built brown people organized socially into the family and the clan, with the chiefs, of attributed divine birth, as rulers. Their religion consists of spirit and ancestor worship, infused through and through, as is their social system (for the social and the religious are hardly

1 See Fry, op. dL s “The Art of the Bushmen,” for a discussion of perceptual and conceptual

images.

separable) with a highly developed sys- tem of taboo ( tapu ), which means “pro- hibited” for sacred or other reasons. “The true inwardness of the word tapu is that it infers the setting apart of cer- tain persons or things on account of their having become possessed or in- fected by the presence of supermaterial beings .” 2 Magic, too, plays a consider- able part in the ceremonial, often highly elaborate, which attends many of their everyday activities, their fishing for ex- ample. Economically, fishing ranks first; agriculture is important where possible; and warfare employs a con- siderable part of their time.

The art forms of such a people are dependent upon the materials at hand and the tools they have evolved; and they are inextricably knit into the whole pattern of everyday life. The chief material is wood from the rich growth of timber, which supplies mate- rial for houses and canoes and for fur- nishings of all kinds, and pulp and fibers for bark cloth and mats; the feathers of colorful tropical birds for feather ceremonial robes; bone for carv- ings; and abalone and other shells for inlays. They have no metal and no pottery. Their tools are very primitive: an adz with a blade of jade or shell; knives of flaked obsidian or set with a row of shark’s teeth; drills with points of stone, shell, or shark’s teeth.

Their buildings of wood and thatch, adapted to the climate of the South Pacific and unusually craftsmanlike in details of construction, reach a climax in the Maori Council Houses , particularly because of their carvings. The chief Polynesian art expression, however, consists in the making and decorating of articles for everyday or ceremonial use — mats, baskets, bark cloth for

2 Ethnology of Polynesia and Micronesia , Chi- cago Natural History Museum, p. 147. Con- tinue this quotation for a detailed account of tapu.

pffffd

[a] Tapa. From Samoa. Rubbed and painted design [b] Ancestral Shield. Painted in yellow, black, and reddish brown on white. Chauvet wood. Melanesian. Chauvet Col- Collection, Paris. lection, Paris.

PRIMITIVE ART

garments and hangings; paddles, clubs, spears, and other implements of war- fare; all kinds of woodenware for house- furnishing — and in decorating their own bodies by tattoo and scarification. On the whole it is a richly decorative art, at times symbolic with a magic pur- pose. Most of the designs, as in aborig- inal American art, have specific names which relate them closely to the milieu of their makers.

DECORATIVE PAINTING

AND CARVING

Mats are an important article of fur- nishing because they serve for floor and wall coverings as well as for beds and sails. Mat-making is done by the women, who obtain their material from

sedge and from the leaves of the pan- danus tree; and by a change in the plaiting or in the width of the fiber or by the introduction of colored fibers they create an infinite variety of pat- terns. Bark cloth, or tapa, which is used for clothing and hangings, is not a tex- tile, for it is made by beating together strips of the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree until they form a sheet of fabric, sometimes thirty feet long by fifteen feet wide. The sheet is then painted in bold geometric designs in black, yellow, or red-brown. The sim- ple geometric pattern of Figure 405 a is filled with unexpected variations, as if the creative activity were too vital and prolific to repeat itself, though it ad- heres sternly to the basic pattern.

The boldly free and varied brush

406

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Carved Prow of a Canoe, Polynesian. British Museum , London. ( British Museum)

work in the tapa-painting shows the same understanding of materials and techniques, as does the wood-carving, which is probably the highest expres- sion of the Polynesian people. Boxes and food dishes, paddles and staves, both ceremonial and utilitarian, killing clubs and weapons of warfare — all these objects of daily and ceremonial life are carved lavishly. Frequently the entire surface is covered with an intri- cate pattern of curving motifs inlaid with abalone shell. It reveals a great virtuosity in carving, especially when one recalls the primitive tools with which the work is done. In Figure 406 a, the carving covers the surface almost too exuberantly with a continuous movement in spiraling motifs like the unending rhythm of a tom-tom. In the orator’s staff of Figure 407B (extem- pore oratory about gods and legends accompanied by the wielding of this ceremonial object is a privileged art expression among the Maori nobles), the carving is confined to the upper part, is adjusted in scale to the part that it decorates, and serves to enhance rather than to obliterate the form and its sur- faces.

In contrast to the suavely elegant, accomplished carvings of the Poly- nesians are the starkly decorative carv- ings and paintings of the Melanesians, a Negroid race of lower civilization, a cannibalistic people, but one of an ex- traordinary esthetic sensibility. It is a boldly decorative art, at times purely ornamental, at times with totemic sig- nificance, that is lavished upon wooden shields and commemorative tablets, carved coconut-shell cups, bamboo boxes, bark belts, wooden spatulas, paddles, spears, dancing shields and dancing sticks, ceremonial masks — all objects of everyday and ceremonial use. In the great ravi, or men’s house (for the women and children live in small family houses), hang many of the shields and tablets (Fig. 405B), elliptical in shape and painted or carved in de- signs which commemorate some event or have a totemic meaning. Ample tim- ber provides suitable material, which is felled and roughly shaped by stone axes, adzes, and chisels and finally carved by stone, shell, teeth, or boar’s tusk. The boldness of the ornament re- sults partly from the designs themselves and partly from the use of contrasting

PRIMITIVE ART

407

[a] Carved Cocoamt Shell. Melanesian. Chicago Natural History Museum. ( Chicago Natural History Museum) On the opposite side the shell is cut away to form a hemispherical cup with a handle left spanning the middle.

[b] Head of an Orator's Staff. Maori. University Museum , Philadelphia. ( University Museum) Besides carving and in- lays of abalone shell many staves were decorated with sleeves of bright-colored feathers and tassels of hair. They were carried by chiefs as insignia of rank.

color. For after the wood is carved it is painted red or black and the incisions are filled with lime. The masks are made from the bright feathers of tropi- cal birds; or from bark cloth (the tapa of the Polynesians) stretched over a light frame and painted in black, white, red, and yellow — colors which are ob- tained from; the native soil and from shells and charcoal. These masks play a prominent part in initiation cere- monies and at religious festivals, where they represent ancestors or bear a to- temic significance. Rising loftily above the mass of shredded palm leaves or grasses that covers the figure of the

wearer, they produce a startling ef- fect in the tropical surroundings. The decorative motifs used by the Melane- sians show an almost constant use of spiraling motifs opposed to sharp den- tils and chevrons; of the human or ani- mal face highly conventionalized ; and of an infinite variety of geometric shapes and variations thereof adapted most skillfully to the space to be filled, with a sensitive regard for scale. In a Cocoa- nut Shell (Fig. 407A) contrasts, both of light and dark and of circular and an- gular motifs, together with the free, ex- uberant quality of the carving, produce a highly dramatic effect.

408

SUMMARY

MEDIEVAL ART

The forms of “primitive art” often appear to the outsider to be merely conventional or highly abstract. On the contrary, these works of art are objects used in daily living, in ritual, and for magical purposes, and their designs are symbols of the spirit world. Hence they must be understood against a back- ground of purpose and symbolism, and with some knowledge of a culture in which social, economic, religious, and esthetic factors are too tightly inter- woven to warrant separation. Form and decorative motifs were determined, within broad limits, by tradition and available material, which in both Africa and Oceania was chiefly wood. In Africa, wood-carving attained a re- markable three-dimensional quality; in Polynesia it was a surface art, richly decorative, suavely elegant, with infi- nitely varied carvings covering the sur- faces. This creative ability appears also in the varied play upon geometric mo- tifs found in Polynesian tapa. Melane- sian art, by contrast, though primarily decorative and totemic, is bolder and more colorful.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bell, Clive, Since Cezanne, Harcourt, Brace, 1922 Burkitt, Miles G., South Africa’s Past in Stone and Paint, Macmillan, 1928

Clcmzot, Henri, and Level, Andre, L'art nigre et Vart ocianien, Paris, 1919 Cossio, Manuel Bartholome, and Pijo&n, Jose,

Summa Artis , Vols. I-X Madrid, 1931-46: Vol. I

Govarrubias, Miguel, Pageant of the Pacific, Pacific House, San Francisco, 1939 Einstein, Carl, Afrikanische Plastik, Berlin, 1921 Firth, Raymond W., Art and Life in New Guinea, Studio, 1936

Fry, Roger Eliot, Vision and Design, Brentano’s, 1924, “The Art of the Bushmen” and “Negro Sculpture”

Golden Gate International Exposition, 1939, The Pacific Cultures, Exposition, San Fran- cisco, 1939

Guillaume, Paul, and Munro, Thomas, Primi- tive Negro Sculpture, Harcourt, Brace, 1 926 Haddon, Alfred G., The Decorative Art of British New Guinea, Dublin, 1894 Holmes, John H., In Primitive New Guinea, Put- nam, 1924

Lewis, AJbert B., Carved and Painted Designs from New Guinea, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1931

— Decorative Art of New Guinea

In-

cised Designs, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1925

Linton, Ralph, Wingert, Paul S., and d’Harnon- court, Rene, Arts of the South Seas, Museum of Modern Art, 1946

Obermaier, Hugo, and Kuhn, Herbert, Bush- man Art, Oxford University Press, 1930 Portier, Andre, and Poncetton, Frangois, Les arts sauvages, 2 vols., Paris, c. 1930 Reichard, Gladys A,, Melanesian Design: A Study of Style in Wood and Tortoiseshell Carving, 2 vols., Columbia University Press, 1933 Sadler, Sir Michael Ernest, Arts of West Africa, Oxford University Press, 1935 Sweeney, James J., ed., African Negro Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1935

Sydow, Eckart von, Die Kunst der Naturvolker und der Vorzeit, Berlin, 1 923

- — Handbuch der afrikanischen Plastik,

Vol. I, Berlin, 1930

Tongue, M. Helen, Bushman Paintings, Oxford University Press, 1 909

See also General Bibliography, pages 791-92.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

I N the Americas, we have already seen the rise of ancient cultures on both continents. In Middle America, the Maya and the Toltecs reached the highest level. For some reason as yet not satisfactorily explained, the First (Old) Empire of the Maya declined and the tribe moved from the tropical low- lands of Guatemala and Honduras northeast into the high rocky peninsula of Yucatan, where they built new cities and spread their influence over neigh- boring tribes. From the north, however, the Toltecs, hard-pressed by northern tribes, in particular the Aztecs, began, about the eleventh century, to infiltrate and then to predominate.

Mayan Art:

The Second Empire

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

I N Yucatan great new cities arose — Ghichen Itza, Uxmal, Labna — which, like those of the First Empire, were great ecclesiastical centers care- fully laid out on a grandiose scale. At Chichen Itza, the pyramid temple of El

Castillo 1 (Fig. 41 1 a) rose above the nearby jungle to dominate the group. Four stairways, carefully oriented to the four cardinal points, lead up the nine terraces to the temple of Kukulcan, the Toltec Quetzalcoatl, god of the wind and rain, who became the patron god of the Maya as the influence of the Tol- tecs increased. These stairways spread out over the ground several feet beyond the lowest terrace, giving the structure an effect of unity with the earth.

Near El Castillo stands the Temple of the Warriors { Fig. 41 ib), a temple of Ku- kulcan but so named because of the figures of warriors carved on its piers. The approach to the temple is across a plaza and through a great open hall, the roof of which was supported by rec- tangular piers decorated with life-sized figures of priests and warriors in cere- monial costume, carved in low relief and painted in vivid color. The temple it- self rests on a base of four terraces, each with a carved frieze, and is approached by a broad stairway with carved stone balustrades. At the entrance ai'e feath- ered-serpent columns, and immedi- ately before the doorway is a chacmool

1 The castle or fort, a name given the temple by the Spanish explorers, who did not under- stand the function of the structure.

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Nunnery, East Building. Uxmal. {Middle American Research Institute, Tulane Uni- versity, New Orleans)

figure . 1 On the facade are masks, with feathers spreading out in relief from the serpent heads in the round. All this carving was brilliantly painted, and, with the frescoes on the interior depict- ing domestic, military, and religious scenes, constituted an elaborate and brilliant decorative entity. When we see such structures as El Castillo and the Temple of the Warriors as a whole, in the midst of a luxuriant tropical setting, as places for the performance of elaborate rites and ceremonies by priests in still more elaborate costumes, when we see the surfaces of these geometrically sim- ple sculptural masses lightly broken by a decoration whose teeming richness is organized, unified, and given emphasis by its linear quality and particularly by the use of color — when we see all this, we realize the entire unity and consist- ency of the whole.

At Chichen Itza, and especially at Uxmal, is a secular type of building, the so-called palace. The Nunnery at Uxmal, for example, consists of four separate buildings (Fig. 410A) set about

1 A half-reclining figure with a flat disk which may have been used for sacrifices. Such figures are relatively common in Middle American art.

a court, all on a broad platform. Each building is a long rectangular volume, whose walls are broken by doorways only (windows are very rarely found). Each is divided into a lower band broken by several doorways and faced with stone finely cut and laid, and an upper band of uninterrupted stonework. The de- sign consists of an inverted triangular shape made up of bars set over against a uniform diaper pattern, with a series of masks over the main doorway, and at the corners hieroglyphs and masks with projecting hooked noses which round off the corners and thus break their angularity. This same type of decoration is even more intricate in the Governor's Palace , in which particularly fine unbroken stonework below effec- tively sets off the rich band above, whose chief motif is a bold fret pattern. These borders, except for the door and the end ornaments, are made of stone mosaic; that is, of small pieces of stone, each individual piece cut and fitted to its own place in the design, and set in mortar — a process involving an enor- mous amount of labor, both in the cut- ting, since stone tools only were avail- able, and in the laying.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

[a] El Castillo , Pyramid Temple of Kukulcan. Chicken Itzd. H. 105 ft.; the base covers one acre. 13th or 14th cent. {Carnegie Institution of Washington)

the reliefs were colored. On. the inside of the temples, however, the walls were smoothed and given a coat of line plas- ter for true painting. Here the painter first outlined his figures in red, then filled in the areas with flat colors, and

PAINTING

The work of the Mayan painter, like that of the sculptor, was closely co- ordinated with building. His work could hardly be separate, for most of

[b] Temple of the Warriors. Chicken Itzd. ( Carnegie Institution of Washington)

412

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] A Seacoast Mayan Village. Reconstructed fresco in the Temple of the Warriors. L. ( Carnegie Institution of Washington)

finally outlined the figure again in black — a process (reminiscent of the Ajanta Frescoes) which makes line em- phatic and tends to make the design two-dimensional. Figure 412A repro- duces one of the wall paintings that is as informative in subject matter as it is decorative as a mural. Here is a Seacoast Mayan Village , with village folk going about their everyday life in their boats on the sea and around their huts on the land. Figures and objects are strongly outlined areas of contrasting color, placed one above the other, covering the surface without crowding and keeping it unified in one plane. Thus results an extraordinarily deco- rative pattern, informal in compo- sition, made up of the conventions for water, boats, fish, trees, roofs, people, clearly differentiated because of the contrasting color yet definitely united because closely keyed in tone. The con- vention for trees lends itself particularly

to repetition with variety, for it consists of a trunk dividing into two branches which support two circular areas of foliage, different in detail to indicate different kinds of leaves . 1

Another function of the painter was the making of codices, which, like the stele, recorded both religious and his- torical events. A codex was a long sheet of deer hide or maguey paper, about six inches wide, which folded up ac- cordion-wise and was protected by wooden covers. Unfortunately only three Maya codices are in existence, owing to the overzealous Spanish friars who, in an effort to destroy “pagan- ism,” burned them, as the T c sin of China had burned the Chinese classics.

1 For a color reproduction see E. H. Morris, Jean Chariot, and A. A. Morris, The Temple of the Warriors at Chichen Itza, Yucatan, 2 vols., Carnegie Institution, 1931. An abbreviated ac- count, with two color plates, is given in the News Service Bulletin (School edition) of the Carnegie Institution, Vol. II, Nos. 17-21.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

In one other field the work of the painter is evident. On a number of pieces of pottery scenes are pictured (we are reminded of Greek practice) in which can be seen not only the general style of painting but the draftsmanship of the Maya, the firm quality of his line as line, his skill in foreshortening, and his ability to express with line alone the mass of the figure.

Ceremony and ceremonial costume would naturally create a demand for objects of many materials and fine craftsmanship. A cursory glance at Mayan sculpture and painting would indicate a need for weavers, feather- workers, makers of jewelry and jade ornaments. Most of their work has dis- appeared, thanks again to the Spanish looting. Although the use of the wheel was unknown in all aboriginal America, Mayan ceramists constructed — by hand-shaping, coiling, and the use of molds — a great variety of pottery: figurines, effigy vases, and vessels of many shapes, the decoration on which might be painted, engraved, or in relief.

Zapotec and Mixtec Art

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

W EST of the Yucatan peninsula, in the province of Oaxaca in Mex- ico and close enough to Yucatan for mutual influences, lived the Zapotecs and the Mixtecs. Their culture, as old if not older than the Mayan, centered at Monte Alban (The White Moun- tain ) 1 and at Mitla near by. For cen-

1 Knowledge of this culture is recent and con- clusions about it tentative, because the great discoveries at Monte Alban began only in 1931. Dr. Alfonso Caso, the discoverer and the director of excavation, is the Chief authority in this field. Much of the area remains to be excavated.

413

turies these two tribes were at war with each other. The Zapotecs seem to have been the dominating element until toward the end of their life span, when the Mixtecs were in the ascendancy.

Though some influences of the Maya are evident, the Zapotecs were still highly original in their architecture. They built upon hills, for example, rather than on the plains — which pre- sented the difficult problem of building on more than one level — and they grouped their buildings about a court from which broad stairways led to structures which seem to have func- tioned in religious ceremonies. At Mitla, in the so-called Palace II, a building whose function is uncertain, one can judge of the Zapotec style: a simple, long rectangular mass with walls un- broken by windows, like those of the Maya, but with an entirely different kind of ornament. Here are no mytho- logical or naturalistic subjects. Sculp- ture is entirely eliminated. The long walls are broken into ribbonlike panels filled with a stone mosaic of purely geometric motifs which have the ap- pearance of textile design. The tough yet easily worked stone of this vicinity lent itself well to this technique. The small pieces of stone, at most a few inches in size, were carefully cut and finished on the face, which projected only about one and one-half inches, with the back left rough and deeply triangular so as to adhere more firmly to the mortar bedding. There is great variety in the mosaic, and each panel is framed by finely cut stone bands, molded so as to produce an unbroken line of shadow, which holds the move- ment within the panel. This decorative scheme is carried out on the interior as well. As the building spreads at the base, like El Castillo, it gives the im- pression of being rooted firmly in the ground.

One aspect of life differentiates Za-

4 r 4

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Zcipotec Effigy XJrns. H. and 7f in. University Museum., Philadelphia. {Uni-

versity Museum)

potecs and Mixtecs from the other tribes of Middle America — their attitude toward a future life, which manifests itself in innumerable tomb buildings and elaborate burial rites. The finest examples of Mixtec jewelry and carv- ings have been found in the tombs. At Monte Alban, the tomb was a small stone chamber, with painted walls and over the doorway a niche in which rested a funerary urn. The function of these urns is unknown, according to Dr. Caso, as nothing has been found in them. They may have contained offerings to the dead, such as liquids or substances that would have entirely disintegrated. A common design is made of a reddish clay in the form of an ornately garbed seated figure with crossed legs whose body is a cylindrical jar (Fig. 41 4A). Sometimes the face is naturalistic enough to suggest a portrait; again, it may be covered with a mask with long hooked nose and eyes of gleaming obsidian. The plumed head- dress balances the broad base, and the whole figure is an inseparable part of the cylindrical jar. Here we see a virtuosity

in the use of clay as a plastic medium and in the interplay of cylindrical shapes.

GOLDWORK

The fabulous Tomb 7, discovered ac- cidentally by Dr. Caso in 1 932, plays the same role in the knowledge of Zapotec and Mixtec art that the tomb of Tut- ankhamun plays in Egyptian art. For here was found a great treasure which not only illustrates the elaborateness of the burial equipment but indicates an exquisite refinement in the culture that produced it. Here were gold and silver armlets and necklaces enriched with pearls and turquoise; gold pectorals; onyx and rock crystal vessels carved to unbelievable thinness; carvings in ob- sidian, jade, jet, and amber; and bone carved intricately with historical and mythological scenes. The origin of the goldworker’s craft in the Americas is believed to have been in the north- western comer of South America, for we note a diminishing number of ex- amples as we move northward from

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

Central America, while from nearer areas in Central America, such as Panama, magnificent examples have come. The Mixtecs seem to have had great command over the use of gold, both technically and esthetically. A Pectoral (Fig. 41 5 a) gives one the im- pression of filagree work, but is actually all made by the cire-perdue process. The total design is contained within a rectangular shape with rounding cor- ners, and consists of an interplay of rectangular and circular motifs, straight and curving lines. The point of empha- sis is the head, in high relief, which probably represents the death god; the rest of the pectoral is in low relief. The god wears a mask, a tiger or serpent helmet, a lofty headdress of quetzal feathers, and other ornaments.

Toltec and Aztec Art

T HE Toltecs, at Teotihuacan, hard- pressed by wild hunters from the north, after a period of chaos were finally overwhelmed by a small but fiercely warlike tribe, the Aztecs, who arrived in the valley of Mexico about 1325, set up their capital at Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City), and became the domi- nant tribe of the region. They were as fierce in their religious as in their mili- tary practices, and carried to extremes human sacrifice, a practice generally followed by the Middle American peo- ples. As has already been noted, their religion demanded it. For, as the gods had sacrificed themselves to create man, man was under an obligation to re- quite the gods in like manner. And as the Aztecs were the chosen children of the sun god, they had laid upon them the peculiar obligation of supply- ing the god with nourishment — human blood. This ritual was carried out with gorgeous ceremonial, which required

[a] Gold Pectoral . From Tomb 7, Monte Alban. H. 4% in. Museo Nacional, Mexico, (Museo Nacional)

not only a fitting temple setting but equally magnificent costumes and ac- cessories. In this, as in much of their culture, they appropriated from the Toltecs, as the Romans did from the Greeks. 1

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Pyramid temples continued to be built, such as that at Tenayuca, many times rebuilt from Toltec to Aztec times, a double temple, dedicated to the sun god and some other god and hence with a double stairway leading up the pyramid to the temples. Fring- ing the base on a narrow platform is a row of massive stone serpents.

1 For this reason it is difficult, at present, to separate the art of the Toltecs and the Aztecs. What we know of the Aztecs comes chiefly from the chronicles of the Spanish conquistadors. See W. H. Prescott, History of the Conquest of Mexico , Modern Library, 1936.

416

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Coatlicue ( Lady of the Skirt of Ser- pents ), Goddess of Earth and Death. Ande- site. H. c. 8% ft. Aztec, i/jth cent. Museo Kacional, Mexico.

It was in massive stonework that the Aztecs excelled, as well as in carving jade and other hard stones, and in mosaic inlay of turquoise, coral, and obsidian. Quite in contrast to the Mayan sculptors, who apparently were interested in surface richness, the Aztecs had a feeling for mass that was monu- mental and filled with savagely intense power. The Aztec’s intensely religious nature, combined with his theocratic political organization, impelled him in this direction. An example is found in statues of Coatlicue ( Lady of the Skirt of Serpents ), mother of the gods and earth

goddess in the double role of creator and destroyer. Possibly the most force- ful and savage is Figure 41 6a, a ponder- ous mass of stone shaped into the most elemental rectangular masses, upon which have been carved in both low and high relief the entwined serpents of the skirt, the necklace of hands and hearts with a skull pendant, the claw feet and hands, and the tusked mask — all of which are highly symbolic. This Mother of the Gods combines both sav- agery and tenderness, for out of de- struction arises new life — an ideology analogous to that found in the Hindu dancing Shiva (Fig. 368A). Equally powerful masses of stone with conven- tional details and a strong tactile feeling are salient factors of Aztec animal sculp- ture.

That the Aztecs had a gift for surface enrichment as found in relief is seen in the Calendar Stone, a huge circular disk that stood before the Temple of the Sun in the central plaza of Tenochtitlan (now the civic center of Mexico City). It was placed in a horizontal position, probably for sacrificial use connected with the cult of the sun god. We feel a distinct orderliness in the rich carv- ing. In the center is the face of the sun, from which radiate four squares which illustrate four former suns, or epochs, which were destroyed by tigers, wind, rain of fire, and flood. On either side of the sun god are claws clutching human hearts, symbolic of the fact that the sun god lives on human blood. Around this central group are concentric bands, which contain the days of the calendar, solar rays, ornaments, and the serpents who carry the sun across the sky and whose heads, at the base, hold human faces in their jaws. Every detail ap- pears to have meaning, and it is all expressed with clarity and in a conven- tional form that enhances the stone’s decorative quality.

MIDDLE AMERICAN ART

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Sources of Modern Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1933 Blom, Frans F., The Conquest of Yucatan, Hough- ton Mifflin, 1936

Brown, Frederick M., Americas Yesterday, Lip- pincott, 1937

Caso, Alfonso, The Religion of the Aztecs, Mexico City, 1937

Thirteen Masterpieces of Mexican

Archaeology, tr. by Edith Mackie and Jorge R. Acosta, Mexico City, 1938 Davis, E. C., Ancient Americans, Holt, 1931 Gann, T. W. F., Ancient Cities and Modern Tribes, Scribner, 1926

— — and Thompson, John E., The

History of the Maya from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Scribner, 1931 Holmes, W. H., Archaeological Studies among the Ancient Cities of Mexico, Field Columbian Museum, 1895-97; issued in parts Joyce, Thomas A., Central American and West Indian Archeology, Putnam, 1916 Keleman, Pal, Medieval American Art, 2 vols., Macmillan, 1943

Lothrop, Samuel K., Pottery of Costa Rica and Nicaragua, 2 vols.. Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York City,

1926

MacCurdy, G. G., A Study of Chiriquian Antiquities, Yale University Press, 191 1 Mason, Gregory, Columbus Came Late, Century, I93i

Silver Cities of Yucatan, Putnam,

1927

Mason, John A., The Ancient Civilizations of Middle America, Bulletin of the University Museum, University of Pennsylvania, June 1943

The Maya and Their Neighbors, Appleton-Century, 1940

Medioni, Gilbert, and Pinto, Marie-Thdrtee, Art in Ancient Mexico j Oxford University Press, 1941

417

Middle American Archaeology, Tozzer, Alfred M., “The Greater Cultures,” Lothrop, Sam- uel K., “The Lesser Cultures,” Bulletin of the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Vol. XXIX, Nos. 1 and 2, 1941

Morris, Earl H., The Temple of the Warriors, Scribner, 1931

Saville, Marshall H., The Goldsmiths Art in Ancient Mexico, Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York City, 1920

Turquois Mosaic Art in Ancient

Mexico, Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York City, 1922

Spinden, Herbert J., Ancient Civilizations of Mexico and Central America, 3d ed. rev., Amer- ican Museum of Natural History, New York City, 1943

A Study of Maya Art, Peabody

Museum, Cambridge, Mass., 1913

Thompson, John E., The Civilization of the Mayas, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1942

Mexico before Cortez, Scribner,

1933

Toscano, Salvador, Arte precolombino de Mixico y de la America Central, Mexico City, 1944

Totten, G. O., Maya Architecture, Maya Press, 1926

Tribes and Temples , 2 vols., Tulane University, 1926-27

Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1940

Vaillant, George C., Artists and Craftsmen in Ancient Central America, guide leaflet 88, American Museum of Natural History, New York City, 1935

The Aztecs of Mexico, Doubleday,

Doran, 1941

Wiener, Leo, Mayan and Mexican Origins, Cam- bridge, privately printed, 1926

Willard, T. A., Bride of the Rain God, Burrows, 1930

City of the Sacred Well, Century,

1926

MEDIEVAL ART

418

[a] Poncho . From an island in Lake Titicaca. Cotton and vicuna wool. H. jJ9 in. Red, green, black, buff, and violet with silver tinsel yam in the border figures. Inca. American Museum of Natural History, New York City. ( American Museum of Natural His- tory)

24

SOUTH AMERICAN INCA ART

TATITH the decline of the Tiahuana- V V can Empire, the coastal Chimu and Nazca became independent, built great cities, such as Pachacamac and Chan Chan, and revived in particular their arts of weaving, pottery, and met- alwork.

In the highlands a remarkable growth took place through the efforts of the Incas, a small highland tribe who set up their rule in the valley of Cuzco, with the city of Cuzco as their

capital, and gradually extended their power until, in the early fifteenth cen- tury, it reached beyond the boundaries of the old Tiahuanacan Empire. It was a tolerant, benevolent rule, with religious practices free from the human sacrifices which characterize those of the Middle American peoples. Their religion centered about the worship of the powers of nature, primarily the sun, whose temple in Cuzco, the Coricancha (Place of Gold), was the most

SOUTH AMERICAN INCA ART

4i9

[a] Machu Picchu . Inca . ( National Geographic Society — Tale University Peruvian Ex- pedition. Copyright National Geographic Society)

resplendent building in the Inca Em- pire. In their stark valley they wrung food from the barren soil by terracing the mountainsides, as the Peruvians do today. 1

ARCHITECTURE

The Incas, even more than their Tia- huanacan predecessors, were supreme masters of cutting and fitting hard stone, a material that was plentiful in this high mountainous region. As a militant, conquering people, they se- lected sites fortified by nature, and strengthened them further by various structures for defense; as a religious people, they built temples, especially to the sun god, whose cult constituted the state religion; for their kings they

1 As the Incas never invented a system of writing, our knowledge of them is derived from their works of art and artifacts and from the Spanish chroniclers. For the latter see P. A. Means, Ancient Civilization of the Andes, Scribner, 1931; Pre-Columbian Art and Culture in the Andean Area , Bulletin of the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, December, 1 940; and W. H. Prescott, History of the Conquest of Peru, Modem Library, 1936.

erected palaces befitting their status. Illustrative of their uncanny ability to select a naturally defended site and adapt it to function as a community, as well as of their amazing skill in masonry, is the city of Machu Picchu ' 1 (Fig. 41 9 a), which is perched on a ridge between two jagged peaks high above the canyon of the Urubamba River in the heart of the Andes, some fifty miles north of Cuzco. Here in this isolated, wildly majestic environment the Incas built a city so ingeniously adapted to the site that it seems a part of the moun- tains themselves. At Sacsahuaman and Cuzco also are still to be seen the som- ber dark walls of the Inca temples and palaces, powerful walls made of pre- cisely cut stone held firm — even in the curving Walls of cylindrical struc- tures — not by mortar but by cramps, a system of great advantage structurally in a land subject to earthquakes. From the esthetic viewpoint, they are highly

2 Discovered and excavated by Hiram Bing- ham in x 91 1 . See Hiram Bingham, Machu Picchu, a Citadel of the.Jncas, Yale University Press, 1930; and the National Geographic Magazine , April, 1913, and February, 1915.

420

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Alpaca. Of sheet silver modeled in re- pousse. H. 9 in. Inca. American Museum of Natural History , New York City. ( American Museum of Natural History)

impressive for their feeling of solidity, for their texture, and for their finely cut angles and meticulously precise joinings. 1 Instead of embellishing their temples and palaces with paintings and colored carvings such as we found in Middle America, the Incas relied upon the decorative element of a material so abundant and so characteristically their own — gold. Dark granite and gold — it was a combination befitting these highland people. Gold was also sym- bolic of the sun god. His temple, ac- cording to the Spanish chronicles, was covered on the interior with sheets of gold beaten thin and encrusted with emeralds — a decoration lavish beyond imagination. And temples throughout the Inca Empire gleamed similarly, though not to the same degree.

1 When the Spaniards captured Cuzco, razed the city, and on its ruins built their own, they did not level all tire thick stout Inca walls com- pletely, but utilized them in the construction of their houses and churches — fortunately for our knowledge of Inca building.

TEXTILES AND METALWORK

Like the palaces and the temples, the garments of the people and their cere- monial costumes were designed starkly, usually with geometric motifs, occa- sionally representational. Figure 41 8a reproduces a poncho worked off into squares, each filled with a geometric motif which, by variations in color value and a stress upon diagonal line, vivi- fies an otherwise monotonous checker- board design. The same simplicity, bordering on geometry, permeates the goldwork and silverwork that was pro- duced, according to the chroniclers, in unbelievable quantities — ornaments and utensils of all kinds and sizes, as well as representational objects such as the Alpaca of Figure 420A. The smooth surfaces of the head and feet throw into contrast the vertical ridges of the metal (made by the repousse process) , which so effectively suggest the heavy wool of the animal and at the same time accent the characteristically long neck.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Sources of Modem Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1933

Bennett, Wendell C., Chavin Stone Carving, Yale Anthropological Studies, Yale University Press, 1 942, Vol. 3

Bingham, Hiram, Machu Picchu, a Citadel of the Incas, Yale University Press, 1930

Brown, Frederick M., America's Yesterday, Lip- pincott, 1937

Joyce, Thomas A., South American Archeology, Putnam, 1912

Lehmann, Walter, and Doering, Heinrich, The Art of Old Peru, London, 1 924

Lothrop, Samuel K., Inca Treasure as Depicted by Spanish Historians, Southwest Museum, Los Angeles, 1938

Markham, Sir Clements R., The Incas of Peru, 3d ed., Dutton, 1912

Mead, Charles W., Old Civilizations of Inca Land, 2d ed., American Museum of Natural History, New York City, 1 935

Means, Philip A., Ancient Civilizations of the Andes, Scribner, 1931

NORTH AMERICAN ART

Means, Philip A., Pre-Columbian Art and Culture in the Andean Area, Bulletin of the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Vol. XXVIII, No. 3, Dec. 1940

. A Survey of Ancient Peruvian Art,

Yale University Press, 1917 __ — — — A Study of Peruvian Textiles , Mu-

seum of Fine Arts, Boston, 1932

. — — Peruvian Textiles, Metropolitan

Museum of Art, New York City,: 1930 Posnansky, Arthur, Tihuanacu, the Cradle of American Man, tr. by James F. Shearer, 3 vols., Augustin, 1945

421

— — Tihuanacu y la civilizacion pre-

historica en el altiplano andino. La Paz, 1911 Radin, Paul, Indians of South America, Double- day, Doran, 1942

Rowe, John H., An Introduction to the Archaeology of Cuzco, Peabody Museum, 1944 Stafford, Cora E., Paracas Embroideries, Augus- tin, 1941

Thompson, John E., Archaeology of South America, Chicago Natural History Museum, 1936 Wassermann-San Bias, B. J., Ceramicas del antiguo Peru de la Coleccion Wassermann-San Bias, Buenos Aires, 1938

25

NORTH AMERICAN ART

Pueblo Art

O F the many tribes inhabiting the great area north of the Rio Grande, the Pueblo (village) people reached the highest cultural level. They lived in the region about the Four Cor- ners — where Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona meet. This semi- arid plateau is cut by canyons and buttes, an austere land of brilliant color and tremendous spaces. As far back as we can trace the tribe, they were nomadic hunters and seed-gatherers, known as the Basket Makers because of their skill in this craft. The introduc- tion of maize, probably from Middle America, and later of beans and squash (possibly about a.d. 500) led them to a more settled life devoted to agriculture, to the building of permanent houses, to the making of pottery and textiles. The Pueblo culture reached its apogee in the Great Pueblo age (about 950-1300). Each village lived a self-contained com-

munal life — nonindividualistic, pro- foundly religious, but not theocratic like the Mayan, the Aztec, and the Incan. They worshiped the powers of nature, especially those concerned with rain and fertility — winds, clouds, and rainbow — which they supplicated with elaborate ceremonial. All the daily activities of life — religious, social, industrial, creative — combined into an extraordinary unity. The planting of corn, for example, was a ritual; and prayers for rain were expressed not only in the chants and dances, but also in the costumes of the dancers and in tex- tiles and ceramics.

ARCHITECTURE AND PAINTING

In contrast to the Middle and South American peoples, the Pueblos built no great religious centers and no temples, despite their deeply religious character. Except for the parts of the cere- mony which took place in an under-

422

MEDIEVAL ART

[a] Wall Painting from a Kiva. Awatovi , Arizona. Detail from a continuous decorative band. Replica. {Museum of Modern Art)

ground room, the kiva, their ritual was performed in the open, with elaborate costuming, chanting, and dancing. So their architecture was confined to building houses, and to protecting these from the marauding nomads, even to the point of providing entrance by ladder only. Their materials were the local sandstone, adobe, and timber. The stonework was remarkable, con- sidering that they possessed stone tools only and no draft animals. In the canyons, reaching up into the mesas, they found well-protected natural cav- erns large enough to house an entire community. Such are the hundreds of

cliff villages of the Mesa Verde (Green Tableland), so named because of its unusually thick covering of pinon). Cliff Palace {a. name given by its dis- coverers), for example, occupies a cavern high above the valley floor. It consists of about two hundred round or rectangular rooms built of stone that was laid with great skill, or of adobe and timber, many of them several stories high. These constitute a com- munal domicile. Along the outer edge of the cavern floor are about twenty circular kivas. Not all Pueblo houses were built in caverns. On the contrary, villages rose in the river valleys, as in

[b] Hopi Jar. Sikyatki ware. Red and black on yellow. D. 13 in. H. 7 in. 16th cent. National Mu- seum , Washington. ( Bu- reau of Ethnology , Smith- sonian Institution)

NORTH AMERICAN ART

the Chaco Canyon with its eighteen or more major and innumerable minor villages. Along the river bottom the villagers farmed by irrigation, and in the kivas and the courts they carried out elaborate ceremonials to supplicate the gods for rain and abundant har- vests. Pueblo Bonito (Beautiful Village), one of the largest and wealthiest, con- sisted of nearly a thousand rooms built on a semicircular plan about a court, and terraced back from one story in front to five at the back, which abutted the canyon wall. In the court were large kivas, which, together with those of Chetro Ketl (Rain Village), illustrate in their walls a climax of stonework. For the highest skill was expended on the construction of the kiva, a sacrosanct structure in which were performed the most sacred parts of the ritual on which not only the welfare but the very exist- ence of the people were believed to depend.

Sometimes the walls were made of large smooth blocks of the local sand- stone, smoothed on the face and laid in courses rather far apart, the inter- stices being filled with small thin chips — all laid in adobe mud; or of squarely cut blocks rather uniform in size and evenly laid. In some of the kivas, the curving wall demanded ex- pert cutting, especially when we recall that only stone tools were known. In addition, when corners of large stones alternate with those of smaller ones, the decorative and textural effects, com- bined with precise laying, result in an unusually beautiful wall surface. Some- times the walls of the kiva were painted, as recent excavations have shown, in a highly conventional though at times a naturalistic style. Figure 42 2 a is a part of a continuous band running around the walls of a kiva, and seems to repre- sent some ceremony. In fact, some of the details of the costumes are almost identical with those worn by these peo-

[a] Mimbres Bowl. Black on white. D. c. 9 in. 13th cent. Peabody Museum , Harvard University. ( Peabody Museum )

pie in ceremonies today. It is an art of line, and light and dark color, on a fiat surface, predominantly angular, as though influenced by textile designs, with no background and no accessories to detract from the directness of the presentation. It is thus extraordinarily decorative. But it was in costuming and personal adornment that the love of color and embellishment found expres- sion in a contrasting setting furnished by the simple, almost barren architec- ture.

BASKETRY AND POTTERY

Early in their culture the Pueblos were expert in making finely coiled bas- kets for household and burial use and in inventing designs in red and black with zigzag, terrace, and other geo- metric motifs. The early black and white pottery, with an angular textile- . like design not always suitable for curv- ing surfaces, or with the constructional coils left unsmoothed, suggests an ori- gin in basketry. Ceramics was a major art in all the Southwest, and an art

MEDIEVAL ART

424

whose practice, like that of basketry, was strictly confined to the women. It was a utilitarian art, whose function was to provide the water jars, and the storage and serving vessels necessary to every- day life. All pottery was made by the coiling method, for the wheel was un- known. Different pueblos developed individual styles, of which the Sikyatki ware is noteworthy (Fig. 422B). It con- sisted chiefly of large bowls with a broad flattened shoulder, and shallow bowls made of a yellow or orange clay decorated with geometric designs or highly conventional birds and animals in red or brown. Here again is seen a predilection for angularity in design, though the Sikyatki ware combines the curved and the angular with pecul- iar felicity in the designs within the shallow bowl. A unique ceramic ex- pression one finds in Mimbres pottery. The black-and-white food bowls of this ware are decorated with figures of birds, insects, fish, and even human fig- ures, drawn with a vivacious natural- ism but with a conventionalization suf- ficient for filling the space (Fig. 423A).

Hopewell Art

O F the other cultures found north of the Rio Grande, we should at least mention one of the Eastern wood- land groups, the Hopewell, which cen- tered in Ohio, but was widespread in the eastern United States . 1 We know relatively little of these people in com- parison with our knowledge of the Pueblos. Among the Pueblos, the most imposing art expression was the com- munal village, together with the ob- jects essential for communal living;

1 This culture derives its name from the owner of a site in Ohio where the remains of it were first discovered and where some of its finest prod- ucts have been found.

among the Hopewells, great mounds and earthworks and the ceremonial ol> jects placed in them . 2 Some of the mounds served for burial, and in these the finest works of art have been found; some were foundations for temples or domiciles; and some, perhaps the most spectacular, were effigies, such as the Great Serpent Mound. All the mounds probably had some social or religious function or, as in the case of the earth- works, a defensive role. Of the objects found in the mounds, the copper orna- ments and stone sculpture are note- worthy. Copper, secured from the Lake Superior region, was hammered, cut, engraved, or embossed by the repousse method into various ornaments with geometric and conventionalized human, bird, and animal motifs handled with rare ability in two-dimensional design- ing. At the same time the Hopewell people, unlike the pictorial-minded Pueblos, were sculptors. Stone pipes, carved with flint tools into the shape of birds and human and animal figures (Fig. 425A), show great vitality in forms generally naturalistic but tempered by material, size, and adaptation to func- tion. Their carved shell gorgets and stone disks reveal in their designs a contact with Middle America.

SUMMART

While the Eurasian civilizations of antiquity were evolving into the medi- eval cultures, and in the process were making more intimate contacts one with another, the American continents remained isolated and unknown to Europe, and their cultures evolved with merely regional contacts through trade, infiltration, and conquest. The

2 The theory that the “Mound Builders” were one coherent people who preceded the Indian is no longer held. Mound-building was characteristic of many aboriginal groups in the Eastern half of the United States.

NORTH AMERICAN ART

425

[a] Tobacco Pipe in the Form of a Wolf Soapstone. L. 10 £ in. Hopewell. Ohio State Museum , Columbus, ( Ohio State Museum)

Maya, after abandoning their cities in Guatemala and Honduras, moved into Yucatan, where they built great eccle- siastical centers with pyramid temples and secular buildings having lavish decorations, colorful and suavely curvi- linear. They made pottery, richly warm in color, which was influential, prob- ably through trade, among their neigh- bors. The Zapotecs and the Mixtecs were builders of stone “palaces” and tombs with a highly individual type of decoration, stone mosaic; they were masters of clay sculpture; and they pro- duced jewelry and other objects of gold, turquoise, and jade intricately carved, all of great elegance and re- finement and of high technical skill. In the Valley of Mexico, the Toltecs, the most gifted people in this area, were overwhelmed by the militant Aztecs, who appropriated much of the Toltec culture. Both built massive pyramid temples and were master stonecutters. The Aztecs in particular produced mas- sive stone sculpture with an almost savage forcefulness. In South America, the highest level was reached by the Incas, who were masters in stonework, in erecting fortifications, and temples

and palaces with magnificently cut masonry and ablaze, on the interior, with gold and jewels. They were also expert in fashioning objects of gold and silver and in weaving. All of these cul- tures succumbed in the sixteenth cen- tury to the invading Spaniards.

North of the Rio Grande were two outstanding cultures; the Pueblo and the Hopewell. The Pueblos, instead of erecting temples, built great communal domestic structures, developed a high level of pottery and weaving, and found expression religiously in costume and in ceremonials performed largely out of doors. The Hopewell peoples built im- posing mounds for social, religious, and defense purposes. They were skilled de- signers of copper ornaments, and carved stone pipes based on bird, human, and animal figures, which tended in the direction of naturalism but were con- ventionalized enough for their function.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Brown, Frederick M. , America's Yesterday , Lip-' pincott, 1937

Chapman, Kenneth M., Pueblo Indian Pottery, 2 vols., Nice, France, 1933 and 1936

MEDIEVAL ART

426

Clarke, Eleanor P., Designs on the Prehistoric Pottery of Arizona , Social Science Bulletin No. 9, May 15, 1935, University of Arizona Douglas, Frederic H., ed., The Indian Leaflet Series, Denver Art Museum, Denver, Colo.,

1930-44

and d’Harnoncourt, Rene,

Indian Art of the United States, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1941 Hewett, Edgar L., Ancient Life in the American Southwest, Bobbs-Merrill, 1930

— The Chaco Canyon and its Monu-

ments , University of New Mexico Press,

1936

Jenness, Diamond, The Indians of Canada, Ot- tawa, 1932

Kidder, Alfred V., An Introduction to the Study of Southwestern Archaeology, Yale University Press, 1924

— and others, The Pottery of Pecos ,

Vol. I, 1931, Vol. II, 1936, Yale University Press

Krieger, Herbert W., Aspects of Aboriginal Deco- rative Art in America , Annual Report, 1930,

Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., I93 1

Mason, Otis T., Aboriginal American Basketry, Annual Report, 1902, Smithsonian Institu- tion, Washington, D.C., 1904

The Maya and Their Neighbors, Appleton- Gentury, 1 940

Morris, Ann A., Digging in the Southwest, Double- day, Doran, 1933

Morris, Earl H., Archaeological Studies in the La Plata District, Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1939

Roberts, Frank H. H., Jr., A Survey of South- western Archeology, Amual Report, 1935, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., 1936

Shetrone, Henry C., The Mound-Builders, Apple- ton, 1930

Vaillant, George C., Indian Arts in North America, Harper, 1939

Wissler, Clark, Indians of the United States, Doubleday, Doran, 1940

— The American Indian , 3d ed..

Oxford University Press, 1938

[a] Botticelli. Birth of Venus, c. 1485. Uffizi, Florence. ( Alinari )

RENAISSANCE ART

WORLD PANORAMA

T HE five-hundred-year period from about 1400 to 1900 witnessed the rise of the Renaissance movement in Italy, its spread to all the coun- tries of Europe, including Russia, and its decentralization to the Americas and other parts of the world. In these movements, the partitions of cultural areas began to break and the world to shrink strikingly in the direction of closer unity. Revival and expansion of scientific knowledge stimu- lated travel and exploration to search for new routes to secure the luxuries of the East. With the accidental discovery of America, expeditions set forth from many of the European nations with various motivations, but all with a desire to secure a share of the wealth — - not now of the East, but of the New World, though a passage to the East was still a desirable objective. Europe and America now became united, in that the European nations expanded into colonial empires to which European civilizations were transplanted. The colonists went to varying environments. In the Americas they encountered indigenous cultures which were dissimilar in ideology and form from their own. Where the Indians were not exterminated or pushed back into the in- terior, the impact of the one group on the other produced the American- European art of the Colonial age.

Exploration and colonization were not confined, however, to the Americas. To Africa and the Ear East the trading companies set forth. In China, after a renascence in the Ming dynasty, flamboyancy and decay were accelerated until, with the end of the Ch’ien Lung period, 1796, no art was produced that could be called noteworthy. India also experienced the decline of the Mogul Empire and generally decadent, unsettled conditions. Japan went into isola- tion in 1638, but within its own confines continued creative activity. In- filtration of Europeans into the Far East began with the trading companies, who established themselves at ports for economic advantage only, without any attempt either to transplant European culture, as did the colonists in the Americas, or to understand the cultures with which they made contact. To be sure, traders brought home various products which led to the vogue of chinoiserie in France and England; to the manufacture of true porcelain in Germany and France; to the appearance of Chinese motifs in Mexican pottery; to the use of lacquer in furniture and of Chinese wallpaper. With the arrival of the Jesuits in China in the seventeenth century, however, a sincere beginning was made to understand something of the nature of the Oriental civilization. But it was only a beginning, and whatever contacts resulted were superficial, a mere opening of the door to the great arts of the East, which were to be known only in the late nineteenth and the twentieth centuries.

emuAMuice \JJit in

R enaissance (literally, “Re-

- birth”) is the accepted though too restricted name given the complex movement that began stirring Italy in the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- turies, reached a climax there in the fifteenth and sixteenth, 1 and spread with different manifestations oyer Eu- rope. Out of its complexity at least two general aspects emerge which affect its art expression: the discovery and enjoy- ment of the individual and his world, and the revival of classical culture. The trend in the Gothic age from the tran- scendent to the empirical, manifested in an increasing naturalism and given great impetus in Italy by Saint Fran- cis and the Franciscan movement, eventually turned the tide of thought from the medieval point of view, which focused upon a future life, to a realiza- tion of the value of man in his actual present and to a vision of the delights and beauties of this life. This human- istic and individualistic point of view found a great source of stimulation in the Humanistic classical literature, philosophy, and art, whose study was one of the intense passions of the day.

The Renaissance, then, meant essen- tially a new attitude toward life, which led to a development of the individual, a greater freedom of thought, and a consequent curiosity about man and his

1 The evolution of the Renaissance falls roughly into divisions marked by the centuries in their Italian names: Dugento (thirteenth). Trecento (fourteenth), Quattrofcento (fifteenth), Cinquecento (sixteenth) .

world. Hence we find ourselves in an age of scientific research and invention. The introduction of gunpowder, prob- ably early in the fourteenth century, changed methods of warfare; the in- vention of the printing press, about the middle of the fifteenth century, meant the gradual substitution of printed books for manuscripts. Interest in man’s surroundings naturally led to voyages of travel and discovery, such as those of Columbus (1492-1504), which had been prompted by the earlier journeys of Marco Polo in China (1260-1295) and by the tales that he brought back of the fabulous riches of the East. The result of such voyages was a wider knowledge of geography; colonization; and the development of commerce, with the wealth that followed. Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), with insatiable curiosity about man, animals, plants, and mechanical devices, attacked great engineering problems, even discovering some of the principles of flying machines and submarines. Copernicus, the Polish astronomer (1473-1543), rediscovered the revolution of the Earth and the planets about the Sun, a concept that had been lost since the Greeks; and Galileo ( 1 564-1642) , watching a sway- ing lamp in the cathedral of Pisa, de- duced from its movement the law of the pendulum.

This freedom of thought was often opposed by the Church, which saw in it the undermining of its authority. The early Renaissance, largely medieval, still shared the fervor of the preceding

RENAISSANCE ART

430

centuries, under the stimulation of the two great monastic orders founded in the thirteenth century — the Francis- can and the Dominican; and the re- ligious and the secular were inseparably interwoven. But with the new freedom, secularization and revolt against au- thority, especially in the face of the pomp and circumstance and at times intrigue and profligacy of the papal court, brought about on the one hand reform within the Church and on the other skepticism; a break in the social solidarity of the Middle Ages; and a growing emphasis upon secular life.

Socially, democratic tendencies led towai'd an equalization Of classes and with the advent of cheap printed books, toward more nearly equal opportunities for education. The social ideal was the many-sided gentleman, and toward its attainment were produced such re- markable individuals as Leon Battista Alberti 1 and Leonardo da Vinci.

Politically, it was an age of turmoil. For the communes found it necessary to ally themselves with one or the other ruling power, the Papacy or the Em- pire; they fought each other fiercely for commercial advantage, and within their own walls kept up local warfare over the lordship of the commune. These lords — tyrants, as they were known — • were frequently enlightened paternal rulers; frequently they were not. In either case, many of them were remarkable personalities with equal ca- pacity for war, business, and culture.

Notwithstanding the enthusiasm and the prolific accomplishments of the Renaissance, its contributions to sci- ence, its great outburst of expression in literature, music, all the arts, and in the amenities of outward life, there is the

1 For a brief statement, see J. G. Burckhardt,

The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy, Harper,

1929, pp. 149 ff. For a contemporary discussion of this ideal, see Baldassare Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier , Scribner, 1903.

contrasting picture of its brutality and violence, profligacy, treason, poison- ings, and assassinations.

The heart of the Renaissance was Florence (Fig. 431 a): “Fair and gay Florentine city, the fount of valor and joy, flower of cities, Fiorenza . . . [yet in appearance] proud and dark and threatening . . . her hundred and fifty great towers and her battlemented walls surrounded by a moat, against a som- ber background of hills not yet bright- ened by houses and olive gardens but covered with cypresses, oak, ash, and fir trees.” 2 This walled, compact city with narrow streets and tall threatening towers was a thriving commercial cen- ter, and its bankers and cloth-finishers were known all over Europe for their shrewdness as well as for their products. Florence prospered amazingly though it fought continuously, if not with Pisa and Siena for commercial supremacy, at home over local politics, for it had no gift for managing its civic affairs. Whatever stability it had was due largely to its highly organized guilds, 3 whose power extended far beyond the limits of industry. The noble families, each keen for power, kept the city in a turmoil with their feuds, not at all de- terred by the sight of the bodies of the vanquished hanging in the public square or, hardly less gruesome, painted on the walls of the palace of the chief magistrate. This last became the custom, so that one artist commissioned to paint these effigies after one of the periodic uprisings won for himself the name “Andrea of the Hanged.”

In spite of these frequent upheavals, the various activities of life continued uninterrupted and with amazing vi- tality. The people were industrious and

2 Guido Biagi, Men and Manners of Old Flor- ence, McGlurg, 1909, p. 16.

3 SeeJ, E. Staley, Guilds of Florence, McGlurg, 1906, for a full description of the guilds as well as interesting illustrations.

RENAISSANCE ART IN ITALY

43 1

ambitious; intellects were keen and quick; anything mediocre failed to sat- isfy . 1 For this reason the sculptor Dona- tello refused to remain in Padua after he had completed his commissions there with great success, because, he said, he was too much praised by Paduans and felt the need of the con- tinual censure of the Florentines as an incentive to greater excellence.

Thus the city flourished materially and flowered culturally. Outwardly, life was festive . 2 The great palaces of the nobles (Fig. 438A), though massive and fortresslike for defense, contained many comforts and luxuries. Festivals and pageants of various kinds were fre- quent . 3 Now we hear of an Adoration of the Magi or an Annunciation; now of an Age of Gold or the Car of Death. Jousts and weddings not only furnished entertainment for the people, but to- gether with the pageants kept the artists busy decorating banners, fash- ioning jewelry , 4 painting the marriage chests, designing scenery, costumes, and cars for the festivals — - all of which in turn quickened the fancy.

The artist, with the Church, the nobles, and the wealthy merchants thus in constant need of his wares, had a place as well defined and as natural as that of the silk merchant, the butcher, or the baker. Supply and demand pre- sented no problem. An artist was a versatile craftsman, and specialization was the exception, not the rule. His

1 Read the introductory paragraph to Va- sari’s life of Perugino.

2 George Eliot’s Romola furnishes a fairly ac- curate picture of Florentine life in the fifteenth century. For contemporary illustrations of every- day life, see Paul Kristeller, Early Florentine Wood- cuts, London, 1897; Burckhardt, op. cit.; Julia Cartwright, Isabella d’Este, Dutton, 1903, 2 vols.; and J. A. D.-G. Ross, Florentine Palaces and Their Stories, Dutton, 1905.

3 See G. B. Brown, The Fine Arts, Scribner, 1927, Pt. I, Chap. Ill, for a description.

4 See Benvenuto Cellini’s Autobiography, Mod- ern Library, 1927.

[a] Italy. Centers of Renaissance Art.

shop was a place where a patron could come to consult about building a palace or carving a statue or painting an altar- piece or decorating the walls of a chapel; where he could order a jewel set in a miter, a chest carved and

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Nicola d' Apulia. Pulpit in the Bap- tistery of the Cathedral of Pisa. 1260. ( Ali - nari )

painted, a banner decorated with the family heraldic device, costumes and properties made for pageants and church festivals, books illuminated, and tapestries designed for a palace or a church.

Training for such versatility was ac- quired through the apprentice system . 1 Each well-known artist had a shop, a bottega, as it was called — there may have been from twenty to thirty in Florence — and to the artist a boy was apprenticed when he was ten or twelve years old. He spent his time grinding the colors, preparing the gold, trans- ferring the cartoons (the master’s pre-

1 See Cennino Cennini, The Book of the Art of Cemino Cennini, London, 1922; Brown, op. cit., sections on a Florentine workshop, Pt. I, Chap. Ill; and E. H. and E. W. Blashfield, Italian

Cities, new ed., Scribner, 1912, “The Florentine Artist.”

liminary drawings) to the panel or wall, preparing the panel of seasoned wood for a painting. In this way years were spent in laying a solid foundation of craftsmanship. As the apprentice be- came proficient in the fundamentals of these crafts, he was permitted to work somewhat more independently and even trusted to paint minor parts of a great altarpiece or to make the jewel- set brooch, according to his master’s design; and finally, after many years of such training he might leave his mas- ter’s shop to set up one of his own.

For the public and officialdom, art was a matter of civic interest and en- thusiasm. The archives of fifteenth- century Florence reveal to us what a great amount of time the city council spent upon art projects, such as the competition for the dome to be erected on the Cathedral , or the bronze doors for the Baptistery , or the location of Michel- angelo’s statue of David. And the people as a whole felt and appreciated art as a vital part of life, so that much of the art criticism came from the masses. When Ghiberti was making his plaque in the competition for the doors of the Baptistery , he invited people to come to his shop and criticize his work as it pro- gressed. When Leonardo had made his cartoon of the Madonna with Saint Anne , “the chamber wherein it stood was crowded for two days by men and women, old and young — • a concourse, in short, such as one sees flocking to the most solemn festivals, all hastening to behold the wonders produced by Leonardo and which awakened amaze- ment in the whole people .” 2 When Duccio’s Majesta was completed, there was a holiday in Siena, and a great procession of priests and citizens in holiday dress, with candles and the

2 Giorgio Vasari, Lives of Seventy of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, tr. by E. H. and E. W. Blashfield and A. A. Hopkins, Scribner, 4 vols., 19x3, Vol. II, p. 393.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE 433

sound of bells and musical instruments, carried the altarpiece to its place in the cathedral.

The general appearance of the city had a stimulating effect upon both the people and the artists. In their love for it and in their pride, the Florentines adorned their city with works by the greatest artists, many of which were placed in view of the public along the thoroughfares and in the open squares. At the entrance of the municipal pal- ace facing the piazza stood Michel- angelo’s David; niches in Giotto's Tower and Or San Michele held statues made by Donatello, Ghiberti, and Verrocchio; Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise faced the cathedral piazza, in the heart of the city; along a narrow street was a lunette filled with a Luca della Robbia Ma- donna and Child in rich blue-and-white glazed terra cotta, or a painted terra- cotta Nativity by Donatello; just inside the churches and the monasteries were great cycles of mural paintings; above all soared the powerful lines of Brunel- leschi’s dome. With mind and eye trained by daily acquaintance with all these, it is little wonder that the average Florentine was a keen art critic.

[a] Arnolfo di Cambio . Detail from the Baldacchino of St, Paul’s Outside the Walls (Fig. 253A), Rome. 1285. (Alinari)

26

ARCHITECTURE AND

(about 1300-1600)

TOURING the Dugento and the Tre- U cento, and well into the Quattro- cento, the Gothic style of architecture prevailed, modified by climatic condi- tions and by the tenacity of the Roman- esque because of its peculiar suitability to Italy. In these centuries commercial expansion and material prosperity stim-

SCULPTURE

ulated a large amount of building, civic as well as ecclesiastical: San Fran- cesco, Assisi; Cathedral and Palazzo Pub- blico, Siena; Cathedral, Orvieto; Cathe- dral, Santa Croce, Santa Maria Novella, Bargello, and Palazzo Vecchio, Florence; Ducal Palace, Venice; Cathedral, Milan; San Petr onto, Bologna.

434

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Nicola d* Apulia. Crucifixion. From the pulpit in the Pisan Baptistery (Fig. 432 a). 1260. (. Alinari )

In the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- turies sculpture also was largely medi- eval, an integral part of the structure. Yet new forces were already affecting its character, earlier than that of build- ing itself. For Nicola d’Apulia (Nicola Pisano; about 1206-1278), a sculptor who had been trained in southern Italy, where one of the earliest of classi- cal revivals was in full swing, began working in Pisa, Siena, and Perugia. His Pisan Pulpit (Fig. 432A) combines Romanesque, Gothic, and classical elements. The panel reliefs (Fig. 434A) are crowded with quiet, imposing fig- ures, flattened to maintain the frontal plane, and though Roman in type, 1 they achieve a decorative quality by

1 Nicola’s immediate inspiration seems to have been late Roman sarcophagi, examples of which were to be seen in Pisa.

the use cf a conventional treatment of details. A fresh observation of nature, however, and a certain solidity in the figures are new notes.

In the work of Nicola’s son, Giovanni (about 1250-1330), the discretion of Nicola, so truly sculptural in its effect, was submerged in tumultuous move- ment 2 (Fig. 435A) . Through the restless groups rapid movement rushes hither and thither. In detail each figure, com- pared with Nicola’s, is small in scale, and dynamically alive. Here Gothic naturalism and intricate linealism burst the bonds of architectural demands, but contributed to the evolving tradi- tion a dynamic living quality. A comparison of Giovanni’s Madonna in

2 Note the style of both these Pisani in the Siena Pulpit and in the Perugia Fountain, on which they collaborated.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Ja] Giovanni Pisano . Crucifixion. From, the pulpit at Pistoia. 1298-1361. ( Alinari )

Padua with the Vierge Dorie at Amiens illustrates well Giovanni’s use of the Gothic sweep of line.

Quite in contrast to Giovanni’s con- fused agitation are the clarity, the calm rhythms, and the architectural fitness in every detail of the tombs and ciboria of Arnolfo di Cambio (died 1302; Fig. 43 3 a). They show a perfect unity of various materials and forms — Gothic motifs, colorful Cosmati work and colored marbles, and highly deco- rative refined sculpture. Gothic lineal- ism, again, marks the work of Lorenzo Maitani (about 1275-1330) in the low reliefs on the fa$ade of the Orvieto Cathedral (Fig. 437 a).

Sculpture seems to have been more actively pursued outside of Florence until another Pisano, Andrea (about 1270-1348), was commissioned by the Florentines to make a set of bronze doors for the Baptistery (Fig. 436A). Andrea

made his doors decorative by means of a repeated geometric motif, one found in Gothic sculpture and illuminations, within which he placed low reliefs of simple composition with smoothly flowing lines, admirably adapted to the spaces and in no way detract- ing from the main decorative pattern. In his reliefs on the Campanile of the Cathedral one feels the largeness of Ni- cola’s style and the dynamic force of Giovanni’s, plus an accomplishment in design not met before. The adequacy of design to material as illustrated in the bronze reliefs of the Baptistery Doors is paralleled by the stone carvings of the Campanile (Fig, 441 a) . The amplitude of the forms, which are based upon a di- rect observation of nature, their clear placement in shallow space, and their highly sensitive relation to the hexago- nal shape seem to point to an influence upon Andrea of his contemporary

[a] Andrea Pisano. South Doors of the Bap- tistery, Florence. Bronze. In the panels are scenes from the life of St. John , and allegorical figures . 1330. ( Alinari )

Giotto, who designed the Campanile and probably carved some of the reliefs.

In the fifteenth century the builders, whose eyes opened to the material re- mains of the ancient civilization that lay everywhere about them, began to study these ancient monuments as the Humanists were eagerly perusing the literature of the same culture. When the young Brunelleschi went to Rome with his friend Donatello 1 he was struck with amazement, and eagerly spent day and night among the ruins, drawing ground plans, vaults, cor-

1 Read the account of this in Vasari’s lives of Brunelleschi and Donato (Donatello) .

nices, and moldings. As a result of this new interest in classical remains, the architects began to introduce into their buildings classical decorative motifs, cornices, and stringcourses, and thus freely intermingled the old and the new with a freshness and at times a daring that are indicative of the free attitude of the early Renaissance.

This daring is characteristic of the young Filippo Brunelleschi ( 1 379-1 446) in his design for the dome of the Cathe- dral of Florence (Fig. 439A), which though not original in construction, 2 sounds a

2 Read the account of the building in Vasari’s life of Brunelleschi.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

[a] Lorenzo Maitani (?). Scenes from Genesis. Fagade of Orvieto Cathedral. Early 14th cent. (Alinari) Maitani designed the fagade and directed , if he did not actually share in, the

carving of the reliefs.

distinctive new note in its scale and external effectiveness. To roof a struc- ture with a dome had been accom- plished successfully many times before, notably in the Pantheon (Fig. 177A) and Santa Sophia (Fig. 259A); but a compari- son of these two domes with that at Florence reveals at once a sharp differ- ence — namely, that the former are partly concealed from the exterior view and aim at interior effect chiefly; the latter purposely emphasizes the ex- terior, to dominate not only the cathe- dral but the city. This dome is octagonal in shape, and rises from an octagonal base pierced with circular windows. The great stone ribs rise with a curve of great beauty and strength to con- verge on the circular apex holding the lantern. Because of its size and

simple design, the dome dominates by its grandeur. It does not possess the mystic, aspiring quality of the Gothic cathedral, nor yet the perfect equi- librium of the Greek temple, but rather the frankly pagan note of the mastery of power. But its effectiveness is ex- ternal only, for the interior effect of well-designed space, such as one finds in the Pantheon and Santa Sophia, is lost when a long nave renders visible but a small segment of the dome (Fig. 438B. See Figure 459A; contrast Figures 1 76A and 26 1 a). A realization of this failure led the architects of the Renaissance to abandon the basilica plan of church in favor of the central type, which found its fullest expression in St. Peter’s (Fig. 460B). Thus the essentially medieval Cathedral of Florence stated, without

438

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Medici-Riccardi Palace. Florence. Built for the Medici, 1444, and later taken over by the Riccardi family. ( Alinari )

solving, one of the problems of church architecture of the Renaissance.

More characteristically Renaissance in design, and revealing direct inspira- tion from classical art, are the Pazzi Chapel of Brunelleschi ( Santa Croce , Florence; Fig. 441B); San Francesco (Ri- mini); and Sant ’ Andrea (Mantua) by Alberti (1404-1472). In these one sees the classical balance of vertical and horizontal; round arches and arcadings; classical entablatures, pediments, and details; the combined use of the arch and lintel systems; and in Sant' Andrea the Roman triumphal-arch design with its triple division. Ornament is used sparingly and is quite subordinate to the quietly restrained design.

Another departure from medieval tradition was the greater attention given secular architecture, for, with the point of view shifted from aspiration for the

future to a consideration of the present, the palace and civic buildings claimed equal attention with the ecclesiastical structures. The early Renaissance is best illustrated by the Florentine pal- aces, those powerful piles of stone not only dignified but stern, for while feuds still menaced, a palace must serve as a fortress as well as a dwelling. In the compact city it stood flush with the street, and as a rule had but one doorway and only a few small windows in the massive ground story. For light and air it was built about an inner court. The Medici-Riccardi Palace , for example (Fig. 438A), built for Gosimo de’ Medici by Michelozzo (1396-1472), is a simple massive structure whose strength is accentuated by the use of rusticated stone on the ground story.

SHI®

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

[a] Cathedral of Florence, or Santa Maria del Fiore (St. Mary of the Flower). So called because of the lily in the coat of arms of the city. 1296-1462. The present fagade was added 1875-87. The design of the detached campanile is ascribed to Giotto.

Its division into stories 1 by unbroken stringcourses, and its great cornice decorated with dentils, egg and dart, and acanthus, show classical influence; the mullioned windows flush with the wall, the great unbroken wall areas, medieval influence. In the Rucellai Palace (Florence) by Alberti, classical entablatures were added to each story, and pilasters between the windows. Thus in secular building as well as in ecclesiastical the fifteenth century was a century of transition, in which medi- eval forms were evolving, under the

1 The great arches on the ground story, originally open entrances to a loggia, were later filled with windows in the style of the High Renaissance. The Strozzi Palace well illustrates an unbroken ground story.

impact of the revival of the classical culture and classical forms, into a new style.

A typical room in one of these Flor- entine palaces was spacious and dig- nified. The beamed ceiling was brightly painted, and the plastered walls, whose openings were without trim, furnished an unobtrusive background for the color accents of painted decorations or tapestries and majolica. An emphatic note was the fireplace with a high sloping hood. The furniture was simple and massive and consisted of only a few pieces, the most important of which was the great chest, or cassone, that served as a clothes closet, a storage place for the family plate or books, a seat, a bed, a table if high enough, and

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Carving from, the Ducal Palace, Urbino. 1468-82. Compare this Renaissance carving with the Roman decorative reliefs in Figs. 182 A and b. (Alinari)

a trunk if small enough. The early cassoni were very much like the Gothic chests in their almost severe rectangu- larity with simple carved decoration. Later this severity was modified by bracketlike carved ornaments covered with gesso and gilded, and by a brightly painted panel on the front. Rarely has an important piece of fur- niture attained the splendor and dig- nity of the Italian cassoni. The panels were frequently painted by the best artists of Florence . 1

Wealth of ornament increased as the fifteenth century advanced. Frescoes covered the walls of palaces 2 as well as those of the churches. Carved pilasters, lintels, and cornices framed doors of inlaid wood (Fig. 445B). The motifs were chiefly classical — the acanthus, the rinceau, candelabra, garlands, Greek moldings — and, like the classi- cal, naturalistic in form. They were carved crisply and spontaneously, as if by one who was finding his first delight

1 Many of these panels have been stripped from the chests and now hang as isolated pic- tures in galleries and museums.

2 The gay frescoes of Benozzo Gozzoli in the chapel of the Medici Palace , for example.

[b] Iron Grille. Palazzo Pubblico , Siena. 1445. ( Anderson )

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE 441

[a] Andrea Pisano . Weaving. Campanile of the Cathedral , 1334-38. ( Alinari )

Chapel. Santa Croce , Florence. Filippo Brunelleschi, architect. 1423. (Ali- nari)

in rich and varied effects of light and shade (Fig. 440A).

Another feature of Renaissance archi- tecture, equally functional and deco- rative, merits more than passing atten- tion — the wrought-ii'on work. The strength of iron makes it valuable for grilles and gates where strong protec- tion, and at the same time light and air, are needed. Technically, it can be worked by several processes, for it can be hammered, molded, welded, carved, chased, and stamped. The necessary tools are few and simple — forge and bellows, hammer and anvil, tongs and chisels. An important fact in designing in this medium is that the metal must be worked in the plastic state — that is, at red or white heat — and must be worked quickly. Hence virility and breadth must control a successful de- sign, though the chased ornament may

be added at greater leisure. This har- mony of material, process, and design is well seen in palace gates and chapel grilles (Fig. 440B) ; and in the standard- holders and the lanterns of the palaces. The lantern of the Guadagni Palace, for example, with its curving branches, is fittingly strong and architectural in feeling; and its decoration, done by fine chiseling, is entirely in keeping with the main design.

The Venetian palace forms a class by itself. Venice was as much Eastern as Western. The city had grown rich and luxurious because of its lucrative trade with the East. Its geographical position on a group of islands chosen as a place of refuge from the Huns iso- lated it from the other Italian cities, enabled it to develop more individu- ally, to cling longer to medieval styles arid delay the coming of the Renais-

[a] Ca d'Oro. Venice. 15th cent. ( Alinari )

RENAISSANCE ART

sance. Being free from internal feuds because of its remarkably stable gov- ernment and also from external foes because of its geographic location, Venice did not need to make its pal- aces fortresslike, as did Florence. The Gothic style, with its light, open tracery, as in the Ducal Palace and the Ca d’Oro (Fig. 442 a), its warm color, and its rapid movement of light and dark re- flected in the canals, was peculiarly adapted to the geographical situation. In the Vendramini Palace (Fig. 443A) we see the same influences at work that we saw in Florence: the ordering of the ele- ments into a classically balanced sym- metrical design and a substitution of classical detail for medieval. The ground story, with the door in the center, serves as a base for the lighter construction above, which consists to a large extent of two-light rounding windows with cir-

cular tracery. Each story carries a cor- nice which serves to finish and unify the entire design. The double shafts of the superimposed orders divide the fagade into three parts, the central division containing three groups of windows sep- arated by single columns, balanced on either side by a single group with double columns at the ends. Thus through sym- metry, proportion, and rhythm of parts the fagade presents an effective design. The windows with their mullions and tracery are Gothic; the superimposed orders, cornices, and decorative detail are classic.

The sculpture of the early fifteenth century still maintained its place as an integral part of architecture. A Sienese sculptor, Jacopo della Quercia (1375- 1438), combined in his work some- thing of the breadth of Nicola’s style, Gothic linealism, and an individual ro-

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

443

[a] Vendramini Palace. Venice. Pietro Lombardo, architect. 1481. Contrast this open design with the solidity of the Florentine palace (Fig. 438A) .

bust energy. An early work, the sepul- chral monument of Ilaria del Carretto 1 (Fig. 44413) shows him using French Gothic elements of style. As is fitting,

a peaceful tranquillity permeates the

monument. Ilaria lies easily, her head upon a double cushion and at her feet a dog, symbol of fidelity. The effec- tiveness of the monument is due to the insistent repetition of unbroken hori- zontals and to the long undulating rhythm in the reposeful drapery, inter- woven with the quicker rhythms and stronger light and shade in the winged putti with garlands — a Renaissance motif.

An Allegorical Figure (Fig. 445 A )> one

1 The attribution of this work to Jacopo is debatable.

of several which combined with reliefs to decorate the Fonte Gaia in Siena, in- troduces a new note. This is a powerful figure whose massive weight is enhanced by the boldly sweeping folds of the drapery, deeply undercut for strong shadows. Its dynamic quality is due to the fact that Jacopo here is attacking a central problem of the Renaissance, the conquest of space of truly three- dimensional design. Once before, in the work of Lysippus and the Hellen- istic sculptors, we saw this sculptural problem attacked and solved. In the Allegorical Figure there is a controlling vertical axis about which the parts of the figure revolve, moving backward and forward in space. This conquest of space foreshadows more complicated

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Jacopo della Quercia. Expulsion. Marble panel from the portal of San Petronio, Bologna. 1425-38. The idea of expulsion is expressed by a line organization which utilizes the sense of movement inherent in parallel diagonals and in radiating and spiraling curves.

[b] Jacopo della Quercia (?). Tomb of llaria del Carretto. 1406. Lucca Cathedral. ( Alinari )

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

445

[a] Jacopo della Quercia. Allegorical Figure from the Fonie Gaia, i^og-ig. The fountain , because of damage , has been re- placed by a copy. Siena Museum. ( Alinari )

solutions by Michelangelo, who seems to have found stimulation in the work of Jacopo (compare Jacopo’s Alle- gorical Figure and Michelangelo’s Del- phic Sibyl). The rugged, forceful energy- in Jacopo’s carving is seen in the Expul- sion (Fig. 444A), a relief in which, com- bined with movement in shallow depth, is a linear and textural pattern which integrates the three figures tightly. This pattern, based upon long sweep- ing curves combined with diagonals and right angles, together with the in- tense robustness of the figures produces a dynamic organic structure which gives intensity to the dramatic char- acter of the theme.

With Donatello (1386-1466) we are carried with an onward rush of adven-

[b] Doorway from the Ducal Palace, Ur- bino. Showing door of inlaid wood. 1468-82.

Iman

turous spirit into the wholehearted search for new forms to express new ideas which Donatello shared with Brunelleschi and Masaccio 1 and which definitely marks the Renaissance. In the early Saint George (Fig. 447A) this 1 See p. 476.

'M

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Donatello. Z uccone > meaning “ Pumpkin-head 1” and Jeremiah. Marble. H. 1427-36. Campanile , Florence. (Alinari)

spirit already declares its daring. The youthful knight clad in armor 1 stands firmly on both feet and with furrowed brow looks keenly to the left. The naturalistically tied cloak, whose folds contrast with the rigid armor, and the shield simplify the contour and render the mass more compact. But though 1 Saint George was the patron saint of the Guild of the Armorers, who commissioned the statue for a niche on the exterior of the guild church of Or San Michele. The original statue has been removed to the Bargello (the National Museum), and a reproduction placed in the niche.

the figure is firmly rooted to the ground, there is a turn in the torso as well as in the head; in fact there courses through the statue a great rhythm, visually stressed by the sweep of the cloak, which follows the turn in the pose. This movement is by no means the same as the sweeping surface rhythms of Gothic sculpture, but is the same in kind as that in Jacopo’s Allegorical Figure (Fig. 445 a), a movement which swings through space about the vertical axis and produces a dynamic living quality which is probably the reason for Va-

ARCHITECTURE

sari’s famous statement — “Life seems to move within the stone.”

Donatello, with Brunelleschi, had steeped himself at Rome in a study of classic remains. Of sculpture there were not as yet many examples; a large num- ber of those well known today were then still buried in the ruins. Only small objects, such as gems and coins, were at all common. In fact Donatello and Brunelleschi while digging around the ruins in Rome, according to Vasari, found an ancient vase full of coins and thereafter were known as the “treasure- seekers”; but their real treasure was the stimulating ideas by which Brunel- leschi was enabled to build the great dome of the Cathedral and Donatello to carve statues that were filled with en- ergy and vitality. The lesson that the antique taught Donatello was a re- turn to nature. Only by a careful ob- servation of nature could he emulate what, to him, were the superlative ac- complishments of the ancients. To his undying credit, he did not copy the Greeks. On the contrary, he learned from them how to make visual per- ception a starting-point. But he did not merely describe. Rather, he cre- ated a formal organization that not only expressed volume in space but also the individual character and sig- nificance of the figure. Saint George is a spiritually alive, chivalrous young knight. Of the figures on the Cam- panile of the Cathedral (Fig. 446 a), the so-called Jeremiah is wholly restless in its pose, with tense articulations, abrupt meeting of verticals and horizontals in the arms, and unorganized drapery. The Zuccone, by contrast, shows a quiet, meditative character. His heavy mantle, falling in massive folds from the shoul- der, conceals the figure except in the right arm and shoulder, and the throat, whose modeling reveals an intimate study of the human figure used not as an end in itself but as a means for the

AND SCULPTURE ; 447

[a] Donatello. St. George. Marble. 1416. Originally on the exterior of Or San Michele. National Museum , Florence. ( Alinari )

expression of character. So the fuccone is seen as a character whose intensity is cloaked by passivity. These massive, weighty figures, intended to be seen from below, not on the level of the eyes, in their compactness fit well into the slender pointed niches.

The Gattamelata (Fig. 449A), a bronze equestrian portrait of Erasmo da Narni,

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Donatello. Herod’s Feast. Bronze relief on the baptismal font, Siena Cathedral. 1425-27.

[b] Donatello . The Mule before the Host. Bronze. Altar of Sant’ Antonio, Padua. 1445-48. (Alinari)

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

[a] Donatello. Erasmo da JSfarni, called Gatta- melata, a nickname mean- ing “Honeyed Cat.” Bronze. i444~5 ° • Padua. (Alinari)

[B] Donatello. Cantona, or Singing Gallery. l 4 33~3S ■ Museum of Florence Cathedral. (Alinari)

450

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Ghiberti . Temptation of Christ. Bronze. Panel from the North Doors of the Baptistery. 1403-24. Florence. (Alinari)

a famous cbndottiere, stands in the open square of Sant 5 Antonio in Padua. As a group in space, it consists of a closely knit mass of man and horse set upon a lofty elliptical stone base; a slight turning movement in the figure of the man repeated in the head of the horse, noted particularly from the front view, indicates movement in space. But the dark color of the bronze stresses the contours and the linear pattern, which is built on curves with a dynamic diag- onal in the sword and the baton; and the whole formal organization seems re- lated to the domes and curved arches of the church of Sant’ Antonio beside which it stands. As characterization, the statue shows a quietly powerful per-

sonality, not only in the features and in the relaxed bearing of the helmetless rider but also in the massive propor- tions, and in the harmonious relation of curvilinear volumes and curved lines.

Donatello adventured in the field of relief also, and here revealed a capacity for pictorial design had he chosen to work in the field of painting. In the early Herod’s Feast (Fig. 448 a), for ex- ample, he organizes a dramatic theme involving many figures into a dramatic composition confined to a shallow space, with movement largely lateral except at the left, where it cuts in at a diagonal in a Giottesque fashion; in the upper half of the panel parallel planes recede with clear precision. In the later Mule before the Host (Fig. 448B.), crowds of people as they surge in from the sides toward the scene in the center create varied rapid movements accented by the reflective character of bronzes. This broken movement is chiefly lateral, is confined in shallow depth and to slightly less than half the height of the relief, and is set in a quiet architectural framework dominated by three great barrel vaults. In depicting these vaults, Donatello reveals his interest in one of the passions of the day — perspective — in that he seems to have been mo- tivated by a desire to imitate visual perception. In his Cantoria (Fig. 449B), on the other hand, one is conscious only of surging rhythms playing through a static framework. Against a gold mo- saic ground and behind mosaic colon- nettes which define a shallow depth, putti swing from side to side with all the spontaneity and exuberance of children at play.

The influence of Donatello, which together with that of Brunelleschi and Masaccio constituted the modern move- ment of the fifteenth century, did not entirely overwhelm the conservative Gothic style, which lived on beside the new, as is inevitable in any age of

[a] Ghiberti. Episodes from the Life of Abraham. From the “ Gates of Paradise ” (Fig. 453d ) .

transition, and found its highest ex- pression in the work of Lorenzo Ghi- berti (1378-1455). In the second Doors of the Baptistery, 1 Ghiberti followed the all-over pattern of Andrea Pisano (Fig. 436 a) . In the Temptation (Fig. 450A), we see that the sculptor was concerned chiefly with the swing of line and with the beautiful pattern that his figures could weave within the enclosed space, a pattern built on arcs of circles that approach but do not meet, symbolizing both a physical and a spiritual separa- tion between Christ and the Devil. We notice the Gothic sway of line par-

1 There are three sets of bronze doors to the Baptistery at Florence: the first (Fig. 436A), made by Andrea Pisano for the eastern doorway, which faced the cathedral, were moved to the south door to make way for those made by Ghiberti in 1 403-24 (Fig, 450A) ; these in turn were moved to the north door in order that the second pair made by Ghiberti, the famous Gates' of Paradise (Fig. 453 a), might be placed in the eastern doorway, the most important entrance.

ticularly in the drapery of the Devil, and the exquisite manner in which his wings are adapted to fill the space and to balance the group of ministering an- gels. Through the use of line and pat- tern, Ghiberti has succeeded not only in creating a beautiful design but also in exhibiting a great amount of dra- matic power.

Ghiberti, however, was not un- touched by the naturalistic movement of the day. Paradoxically, he was a great lover and collector of classical marbles, bronzes, and coins, evidence of which appears in his work. In the niche on the right of Figure 451 A, for example, is a nude figure that appears to have been copied from some classical Heracles.

In the Gates of Paradise (Fig. 453 a) Ghiberti abandoned the all-over pat- tern of the earlier doors and divided the space into rectangular panels, each containing a relief set in plain moldings.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Luca della Robbia. Virgin Adoring the Infant Jesus. Glazed terra cotta. 15th cent. Philadelphia Museum of Art. {Philadelphia Museum)

When gilded, these reliefs produced with their scintillating movement an effect of great elegance. 1

T aking one panel in detail (Fig. 45 1 a) , we find several episodes welded into one design, not an uncommon practice in Renaissance art. In the upper right- hand corner Abraham is about to slay Isaac on the altar when the angel ap-

1 It may have been this that called forth from the grim stonecutter Michelangelo the remark, “They are so beautiful that they might fittingly stand at the gates of Paradise.”

pears to stay his hand; at the foot of the hill the servants and the ass are waiting for the master; on the left Abraham kneels before the three angels who ap- peared to him before his tent near the oaks of Mamre; in the background Sarah stands at the door of the tent. These groups Ghiberti united with as- tonishing ease. Emphatic lights and darks, as in the rocks and the trees, and the planes receding at angles to the foreground, as in the angels, the fore- shortened ass, and the rocks at the

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

453

[a] Ghiberti. “ Gates of Paradise Bronze. The scenes represented are taken from the Old Testament. 1425-52. Baptistery , Flor- ence. ( Alinari )

right, carry the eye upward and in- ward. So also do the higher relief in the foreground figures with sharper transi- tions of light and shade and the lower relief in the group of the sacrifice with gentler transitions. Thus is produced an effect of aerial perspective, a pictorial quality that shows an influence upon Ghiberti of the contemporary natural- istic movement, an influence seen again in the modeling of the figures in the lower right-hand corner, whereas the angels near by, with the subtly flowing lines in their drapery and wings, carry one back to the angels of Amiens and

Reims (Fig. 35 ib). By a comparison of this panel and Donatello’s Herod's Feast (Fig. 448A), one realizes how sculptural is Donatello’s conception in contrast to the pictorial quality in Ghiberti’s work.

If sculpture in the first half of the fifteenth century was dominated by Donatello, with Ghiberti as a late flower of the Gothic style, the second half also was under the influence of the former, though the sculptors may be divided into two rather well defined groups. There was the gentle Luca della Robbia (1400-1482), whose simple unaffected naturalism has a certain appeal. He is

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Desiderio da Settignano. Tomb of Carlo Marsuppini. c. 1455. Santa Croce , Florence. ( Brogi )

best known, however, for his introduc- tion into Italian sculpture of the me- dium of glazed terra cotta, which was desirable both on grounds of economy, in comparison with stone and bronze, and because of color. The intense blues, yellows, greens, and purples with ivory- white made a very decorative note when used in a lunette over a doorway in a dull Florentine street. Luca’s figures are the simply and broadly modeled clay forms necessary for glazing, and his types are appealing for their serene wholesomeness and tenderness, which is

neither profound nor sentimental (Fig. 452A).

In addition to Luca, there was a whole group of stonecutters who, though pupils or followers of the forthright Donatello, were interested primarily in securing exquisite surface effects, in catching a charming momentary pose of a youthful Tuscan aristocrat, in carving marble surfaces into beau- tifully cut patterns. Frobably Desiderio da Settignano (1428-1464) best illus- trates the group. 1 The alluring charm of his Laughing Boy or Marietta Strozzi results from subtle carving and ex- quisite surface modulation, from an impression of momentary alertness or of gracious personality. The uncom- promising realism and formal structure of Donatello have given way to surface delicacy and technical virtuosity.

Nor is this smiling charm absent in the tombs designed and carved by De- siderio. Florence honored its dead — statesmen, humanists, artists, church- men — with burial in its churches and with monumental tombs made by the greatest artists. In the Tomb of Carlo Marsuppini (Fig. 454A), the sarcophagus, with an effigy of the dead reclining on a bier, stands in a niche formed by two fluted pilasters that rise from a deco- rated base to the entablature, whence springs a round arch surmounted by a candelabrum, from which garlands are suspended. The back of the niche is filled with four panels of colored marble, which balance the horizontal line of the sarcophagus and the base and afford with their plain surfaces a restful contrast to the rich, delicate or- nament, carved in low relief so that light and shade flit over the surface gently with no great contrasts, and pro- duce an effect of elegance and refine- ment without a feeling of overloading.

1 Others were Antonio Rossellino (1427- 1478), Mino da Fiesole (1430-1484), and Bene- detto da Maiano (1442-1497).

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

But the figures at the corners and the garlands, evidence of a superrealistic tendency, mar that perfect architectural unity found in Arnolfo’s tombs.

A lone sculptor who stood apart from the generally naturalistic trend of the Renaissance was Francesco Laurana of Zara (about 1425-1502), who penetrated beneath the super- ficial surface beauty of the Desiderio group and at the same time substituted for the terse reality of the Donatello tradition the “proud unreality” of an austere architectural form. In the head of a Princess (Fig. 455A) the shoulders are one with the base from which they rise and their solid mass and unbroken impeccable contours support the slen- der neck and the spherical head. Every detail is a unit in a form; from the front view, one of repeated curves, hori- zontals, and a strong vertical axis, with diagonals, sharp angles, and definitely broken surfaces in the embroidered dress. Within this formal organization are the subtlest surface modulations, not used as ends in themselves or as naturalistic renderings of flesh or fabric but as contributory elements in a com- pelling abstract design.

Working side by side with the Desi- derio group of sculptors was another group, the direct descendants of Dona- tello. Of especial importance was An- tonio Pollaiuolo (1429-1498), who is an excellent illustration of the eager zeal of these Florentine artists in their search for the fundamentals of figure expression. In the case of Antonio, it was the figure in movement based upon an intensive study of anatomy. In his bronze statuette of Heracles and Antaeus (Fig. 456 a) the two figures with tensely strained muscles are surcharged with vitality, and are so interlocked that their opposing movements and sharp angles, accentuated by the clear-cut contours and the reflections of the dark bronze, produce an almost abstract ex-

[a] Laurana. A Princess of the House of Naples. Berlin ( Clarence Kennedy)

pression of Titanic conflict. Antonio worked in terra cotta as well, and to him is attributed a Portrait of a Youth (Fig. 456B), which combines a vivid aliveness, which he inherited from Donatello, with a simplicity of mass almost as ab- stract as that in Laurana’s Princess , though the coarse clay from which the former is modeled does not lend itself to such nuances as are possible in the fine marble of the latter. Yet notice how in each case the material in itself is an effective element of expression.

Another important sculptor of this group was Andrea Verrocchio (1435- 1488), who is best represented by the equestrian statue of Colleoni (Fig. 45 7A), one of the greatest soldiers of the age and at the same time a prince of great wealth, living part of the time in the midst of camp hardships and part of the time in the luxury of a magnificent court. We see Colleoni in full armor sitting rigidly in the saddle, from which he seems to be half-rising, the feet press- ing firmly upon the stirrups which bear the weight of the body, in marked con- trast to Gattamelata, who relaxes into the saddle. The violent twist of the

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Antonio Pollaiuolo. Heracles and An- taeus. Bronze. National Museum. ( Barg Florence. [Clarence Kennedy)

a Touth.

Terra cotta. National Museum ( Bargello ), Florence. (Alinari)

figure, the grim face, the piercing eyes, and the angularity of the group contribute to the impression of impetu- osity; and every detail adds to a dra- matic expression of forceful energy.

The fifteenth century, then, under the influence of individualism and a study of nature, took upon itself and solved problems which arose in con- nection with the structure of the figure, with its possibilities for spatial organiza- tion and for the expression of significant ideas. With these solutions came a relax- ation into easy charm and surface subtleties on the part of one group of sculptors, but an uncompromising attitude with another group, who bequeathed the accomplishments of Donatello to his greatest follower,

Michelangelo. “Either the spirit of Donatello lives in Michelangelo,” said Borghini, “or that of Michelangelo already lived in Donatello.”

The sixteenth century, unlike the fifteenth, was dominated by one over- powering personality, that of Michel- angelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), and that too in the fields of architecture and painting as well as in that of sculpture. With this century, the center of art activity shifts from Florence to Rome, where under the leadership of a large group of artists 1 working chiefly for

1 Donato Bramante (1444-1512); Raphael (1483-1520); Baldassare Peruzzi (1481-1536); Antonio San Gallo the Younger (1482-1546); Michelangelo (1475-1564); Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola (1507-1573); and others.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

[a] Verrocchio. Colle- oni, a condottibe , or mili- tary leader. Bronze. 1481- 88. Venice. {Anderson).

the papal court and the Roman nobles, the Renaissance style reached a climax known as the High Renaissance. This was an accomplished age, one of splen- dor and magnificence in which wealthy Popes and princes created a great de- mand for churches and palaces, villas and gardens, all of which in their scale, in their princely dignity and splendor, reflected the worldly grandeur of the High Renaissance.

One palace, the Farnese, illustrates this sixteenth-century type; the Can- celleria is an interesting transition from the fifteenth-century Florentine to the sixteenth-century Roman. The princely dignity of the Farnese Palace (Fig. 458B) is the direct result of a design calculated to attain just that effect — a design of classical balance and symmetry. The

long rectangle of the smooth fagade is framed by quoins and a cornice, and across it march the long lines of win- dows, the regularity of which is broken by the strong central accent of the door- way built of rusticated stone and sur- mounted by a balcony and the Farnese coat of arms. The windows are no longer flush with the wall, as in the Medici Palace (Fig. 43 8a), but project beyond the surface, producing depth in the design; each window is a com- plete unit with engaged columns, en- tablature, and pediment. The different treatment of these units on each of the three stories, and the alternating curved and angular pediments, contribute the variations necessary to so symmetrical a design. The court is strongly classical in design, combining, like the Colosseum,

' id i| i;v

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[b] Farnese Palace. Rome. Architects / Antonio da San Gallo, 1530-34; Michelangelo, 1546, who designed the cornice; and Giacomo della Porta, who completed the palace c. 1580. {Anderson)

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

[a] St. Peter’s Cathedral. Rome. Nave.

the arch and lintel systems, and using superimposed orders: Doric engaged columns on the ground floor, Ionic on the second, and Corinthian pilasters on the third, each order being finished with a complete entablature. But the windows with their pedimented niches are peculiarly Renaissance.

The interiors of these palaces are consistently regal, depending for their effect upon gilded coffered ceilings (sometimes containing painted panels), : frescoes, and painted and gilded stucco . 1 The ceiling and the cornice received especial emphasis, as seen in the hall of the Famese Palace, and the richest of stuffs in the furnishings — velvets, brocades, damask, taffeta — contributed sumptuousness, or over- stepped into the pompous and gran- diose.

1 See the Piccolomini Library of the Siena Cathedral and the Borgia Apartments of the Vatican for paintings, and the Villa Madama at Rome, decorated by Raphael, for stucco.

As these wealthy princes sought the cooler air of the hills during the hot season, the villa assumed importance, and particularly its garden — a formal garden consisting of beds of flowers laid out geometrically, and usually, for the enjoyment of the color, situated near the house. Beyond these flower beds were regular compartments of greenery with closely clipped hedges of box; masses of trees, ilex or pines, or a stretch of wooded land in its natural state that served as a background for the formal parts and also afforded the desired shade; statues and stone benches; and, with especial emphasis, water: pools, fountains, cascades (Fig. 458A). All these elements were used as integral parts of a formal whole to which each, including the villa it- self, contributed form, color, and tex- ture.

Ecclesiastical building of the High Renaissance culminated in St. Peter’s , the cathedral which replaced the early

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[a] St. Peter’s Cathedral. Rome. Front view, showing the fagade of Maderna and the great court by Bernini. (Anderson) The obelisk in the center was brought to Rome from. Heliopolis , Egypt, by Caligula to adorn Nero’s Circus , the scene of the martyrdom of St. Peter.

[b] St. Peter’s Cathedral. Rome. The dotted line shows * approximately the front line of the building according to the plans of Bramante and Michelangelo.

Christian basilica on the same site. The designers of St. Peter’s abandoned the basilica plan, used in the Cathedral of Florence (Fig. 438B), in favor of the cen- tral type more suitable for a domical structure. 1 The dome, we have already seen, was one of the characteristic fea- tures of Renaissance architecture, and was used both for its exterior effect as a dominating symbol and for its ca- pacity for creating interior space. These two objectives motivated Bramante and Michelangelo 2 in their plans for the cathedral, but the effectiveness of their design was later frustrated by the length- ening of the nave to gain space and by the addition of the wide, inharmoni-

1 The conception of formal unity in a domed building, in which the body of the building serves as a base for die dome, is seen in Bra- mante’s Tempietto of San Pietro in Montorio, -Rome.

2 Ten architects worked upon this cathedral. The plan is essentially that of Bramante, some- what modified by Michelangelo, who designed thedome, which was completed from his drawings after his death. The fagade was built by Maderna (1606-1626) and the great court with double colonnades by Bernini (1656-1663).

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE 461

[a] St. Peter's Cathedral. Rome. View from the west. 1506-1626. ( Alinari )

ous fagade which cuts off the view of the dome (Fig. 460A and b). Thus it is that only the back view of the cathedral gives some conception of the complete unity of masses which underlay Michel- angelo’s sculpturesque design 1 (Fig. 461 a). The plan consists of a Greek cross with the comers made by the arms of the cross filled in (compare Figures 262A, 264s), and with apses on three sides and the entrance on the fourth side — a plan that is extraordinarily compact. As a volume, the cathedral consists of a closely knit unit of cube and half-cylinders, which in their volumes, surfaces, and contours form a harmoni- ous base for the great dome that rises like a majestic symbol of universal au-

1 See Le Corbusier, Towards a New Architec- ture , for a formal analysis from this point of view.

thority. On the base, gigantic pilasters carry an entablature which ties the parts into a unity. One wonders whether Michelangelo had in mind the Col- osseum (Fig. i8oa), in which cornices tie the arches together in a similar way. In St. Peter's, however, the cornices are not continuous, as in the Colosseum, but are broken. By advancing and receding they create movement in depth as well as laterally, This movement in depth, a three-dimensional quality, becomes stronger in the drum of the dome, where deeply projecting pairs of colonnettes crowned with a sharply broken cornice not Only serve as bases for the great ribs of the dome but also carry the eye in- ward and outward as it sweeps around the drum.

Structurally, the cathedral offers no new problems, no new solutions, as is

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Michelangelo. Medici Madonna: Mar- ble. H. c. 7 ft. 1525-34. New Sacristy , San Lorenzo , Florence. (Alinari) Originally planned as part of a papal tomb in an ambi- tious project of Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici, which was to include four Medici tombs, the Madonna was left an isolated figure when continuous changes in the plans resulted in the building of only two tombs. The analysis shows the organization of spiraling volumes.

true of most Renaissance building. The arms of the cross are covered with bar- rel vaults and the dome rests upon pendentives. Spatial, not structural, problems concerned the builders: to bring movement in depth into the ex- terior as far as was consonant with solidity, but particularly to create an interior space as majestic as the ex- terior volumes, to harmonize exterior and interior effects. Had Bramante’s and Michelangelo’s designs not been tampered with, this effect would have been accomplished. Instead, the length- ened nave precludes such an interior space design as we find in the Pantheon and Santa Sophia.

Michelangelo’s design for St. Peter’s is primarily sculptural. He himself de- clared that he was a sculptor. Marks of his fully developed style are already ap- parent in his early Moses, 1 (Fig. 13B) with its restless movement backward and forward, and in the opposing move- ments of the drapery and beard. Yet the figure is extraordinarily compact, and the restless movement is sternly

1 The Moses was carved to decorate the tomb of Pope Julius II, which was never completed as planned. The horns on the head, traditional in representations of Moses, are due to an in- correct interpretation of the passage in the Vul- gate of Exodus xxxiv. 35 that describes the rays about the head of the prophet as he came down from Mt. Sinai.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE 463

[a] Michelangelo. Tomb of Giuliano de' Medici. 1524- 33. New Sacristy, San Lorenzo, Florence. Never com- pleted. (Alinari)

[b] Michelangelo. The Bound Slave, Marble, c. 1513. Louvre, Paris.

confined within the space determined by the block of stone from which it was carved. The detailed modeling (here quite intent upon anatomical minutiae) later became broader, subordinated to a clearer enunciation of a three-dimen- sional organic structure, as in the Bound Slave (Fig. 463B). This figure is not as restless as the Moses, and every part is subservient to a great rhythmic movement which surges forward and backward from the foot to the uplifted arm and thence back into the figure, where it flows into another movement

around the figure, made visible in the tight band about the breast. Both of these movements traverse, in their spiraling, the entire space determined by the sides of the block of stone.

All Michelangelo’s sculpture was architectural, as his architecture was sculptural. Thus the two art forms came together in an extraordinary unity. This is best illustrated in the Medici Tombs (Fig. 463 a), a work in which Michelangelo had charge of the entire design, both architectural and sculp- tural. The architectural setting is not

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464

only a framework of verticals, hori- zontals, and curves but is a design in depth, like that of St. Peter's, accented by strong shadow carefully controlled by overhead lighting. Into this setting the figures fit dynamically as a group, for they form a triangle which is re- peated in the bent knees of the reclining figures. At the same time each figure, with its complex backward and for- ward movement, accentuates the spa- tial conception of the entire design.

Giuliano, seated with his head turned to his left, is clad in a suit of magnifi- cent armor, and holds a marshal’s baton somewhat listlessly. The whole figure, with its generalized features, is more a symbol of ineffectuality than a portrait of the Prince. Also symbolic are the two figures below. The Titanic Day has aroused himself and peers out upon the world with keen gaze. The head rises vertically erect above a mighty shoulder and a muscular arm that swings around the body and thus opposes a strong horizontal movement to the verticality of the head. Parts of the figure, such as the back and the shoulder, are highly finished, revealing the anatomical structure with scrupu- lous care; other parts, such as the head and the left hand, are still in the rough, giving one the feeling that this vigorous giant is trying to wrest himself from the block of stone. Yet such details are sub- ordinate to the powerful rotation of masses about a central axis, which re- sults in a design of maximum move- ment within the limited space marked off by the block from which it was carved. The same restlessness permeates the Night, whose drooping head brings her face effectively into the shadow. Despite the presence of the owl be- neath the bent knee and a poppy wreath to symbolize slumber, the un- easy sleep of the restless figure is more truly symbolized by the mask, whose open eyes follow one with fascination.

In such figures as the Bound Slave , Day, and Night one realizes Michel- angelo’s purpose. His perfect under- standing of and control over the figure as an organic structure, even in the most complicated movements, enabled him to use the figure not as an end in itself but for the creation of designs which by their formal value as well as their representational content translated into visual form the conceptions of a great imagination and intellect. The Bound Slave, for example, may suggest the futility of struggle and the Night the hopeless search for rest. Interpretation of sculpture, as of poetry, is not always satisfactory. But one notes that nowhere is there tranquillity. Something of Michelangelo’s own tortured spirit per- meates the tortuous movement of his designs. 1

Perhaps the consummation of inter- locking movements of a most complex organization in space is found in the unfinished Madonna of the New Sacristy (Fig. 462 a), in which the two figures spiraling in opposite directions neverthe- less compose into a unit of the utmost compactness. The complex, three- dimensional organization of Michel- angelo’s art, with its conquest of space, its ceaseless movement and great scale, foreshadowed, if it did not originate, the baroque style of the seventeenth cen- tury.

The new style did not develop with- out opposition, however. For another school, called the Academic, held fast, even rigidly, to the canons of building set forth by one whom they believed to be an infallible guide, the Roman Vitruvius, whose treatise on architec- ture had been discovered in the fifteenth century. This school is best represented by the work of Palladio (1518-1580), at

1 One needs to recall the general background of the Counter-Reformation and Michelangelo’s deep concern for the Church, to which he was devoutly loyal.

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465

[a] The Basilica, or Town Hall. Vicenza. Andrea Palladio , architect. 1549. A medieval building remodeled in Renaissance style. Partly ruined during World War II. (. Alinari )

Venice and Vicenza. His Basilica (Fig. 465A) was a Gothic town hall which he remodeled on the lines of a Roman basilica, hence its name. The building has a two-storied arcade around it with superimposed orders, Doric on the first story and Ionic on the second, thus combining in Roman fashion the arch and lintel systems. The intercolumnia- tions, however, are not spanned by the arch alone, but contain smaller col- umns set two deep from which the arch springs. 1 The bays, whose width was determined by the old building, are unusually wide for their height; but in reducing the width to be arched by the insertion of the smaller columns Palladio not only attained superb pro-

1 A form that has become known as the Pal- ladian window. It is found frequently in Ameri- can Colonial architecture, whither it came by way of England.

portions for his arches but also brought about a rich play of light and shade where the smaller columns group around the larger pier. In both stories the entablature breaks about the col- umns, thus making more insistent the vertical lines, which form the main ac- cents of the horizontal rhy thm and also carry the eye upward to the statues adorning the balustrade. At the cor- ners, Palladio narrowed the inter- columniation, but not the arch, by placing the smaller shafts nearer the large, and he doubled the columns at the comers, thus giving a feeling of solidity at these points. In the Villa Ra- tonda (Fig. 466A), Palladio established the classical two-storied portico, later so popular. His published drawings of Roman ruins spread the influence of the Academic school across Europe and eventually to the Americas.

466

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[a] Villa Rotonda. Vicenza . Andrea Palladio, architect. ( Alinari )

SUMMARY

The Renaissance meant a change in point of view, the emergence of new ideas, and consequently the need of new forms for their expression. The social solidarity and the predominantly ecclesiastical outlook of the Middle Ages began to give way before an advancing individualism and secularization, with parallel changes in the art expression. Under the unlimited patronage of the wealthy and ruling classes, a great flowering developed in all the arts. Its beginnings appear in the fourteenth century, which was primarily medieval with a mingling of Romanesque and Gothic styles in its churches, palaces, and town halls, and with its sculpture closely allied to architecture. Sculp- ture, earlier than architecture, felt the influence of classical art — in fact delib- erately copied those forms — but soon turned to the suave rhythms of French Gothic linealism.

The opening of the fifteenth century saw a great outburst in all art activity.

Classical details appeared in buildings, and soon an increasing enthusiasm for the classical style as a whole became evident. The central plan, the dome, classical orders and ornament, and symmetry in the arrangement of all parts-— all these traditional elements reappeared, used with vigor and orig- inality. In architecture, interest cen- tered not on constructional problems, as with the Romans, but upon basic abstract forms and particularly upon space organization. Sculpture also be- gan to deal with problems of space. It. was still architectural in function. Under the stimulation of classical art it moved toward the creation of forms based upon visual perception and a scientific knowledge of the figure, both of which would naturally lead toward a three-dimensional organization of the figure, and movement within the space determined by the material. These trends of the fifteenth century found complete fruition in the sixteenth, notably in the building and the sculp- ture of Michelangelo.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE 467

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson, W. J., The Architecture of the Renais- sance in Italy, Scribner, 1927 Baum, Julius, Baukunst und dekoraiive Plastik der Friihrenaissance in It alien, Stuttgart, 1926 Biagi, Guido, Men and Manners of Old Florence , McClurg, 1909

Bode, Wilhelm von, Die Kunst der Friihrenaissance in I. alien, 2d ed., Berlin, 1926

— Florentine Sculptors of the Renais-

sance, Scribner, 1909

Burckhardt, J. C., The Civilization of the Renais- sance in Italy, tr. by S. G. C. Middlemoore, Harper, 1929

Cartwright, Julia (Mrs. Henry Ady), Beatrice d’Esle, Dutton, 1903

— Isabella d'Este, 2 vols. Dutton,

I 9°3

Castiglione, Baldassare, The Book of the Courtier, tr. by L. E. Opdycke, Scribner, 1903 Cellini, Benvenuto, Autobiography, tr. by J. A, Symonds, Modern Library, 1927 Crifchton, George H., and Elsie R., Nicola Pisano and the Revival of Sculpture in Italy, Macmillan, 1938

Cruttwell, Maud, Verrocchio, Scribner, 1904 Geek, F. J., Bibliography of Italian Early Renais- sance Art, University of Colorado, 1932 — — — — Bibliography of Italian High Ren- aissance Art, University of Colorado, 1933 — — — ■■■ Bibliography of Italian Late Renais- sance Art, University of Colorado, 1934 Goldscheider, Ludwig, Donatello, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1941

The Sculptures of Michelangelo,

Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1940 Gromort, Georges, Italian Renaissance Architecture, tr. by G. F. Waters, Helburn, 1922 Hill, G. F., Portrait Medals of Italian Artists of the Renaissance, Macmillan, 1912

Holroyd, Sir Charles, Michael Angelo Buonarroti, Scribner, 1904

Jackson, Sir T. G., The Renaissance of Roman Architecture, 2 vols., University of Chicago Press, 1922; Vol. I, Italy MacLagen, Eric, Italian Sculpture of the Renais- sance, Harvard University Press, 1935 Marquand, Allan, Luca della Robbia, Princeton University Press, 1914

Meyer, A. G., Donatello, Lemcke & Buechner, 1904

Moore, C. H., The Character of Renaissance Archi- tecture, Macmillan, 1905 Odom, William M., History of Italian Furniture, 2 vols., Doubleday, Page, 19x8-19 Ricci, Corrado, Architecture and Decorative Sculp- ture of the High and Late Renaissance in Italy, Brentano’s, 1923

Ross, J. A. D.-G., Florentine Palaces and Their Stories, Dutton, 1905

Ruskin,John, Stones of Venice, 3 vols., Estes, 1913 Schevill, Ferdinand, History of Florence, Harcourt, Brace, 1936

Schubring, Paul, Die Kunst der Hochrenaissance in Italien, Berlin, 1926

Scott, Geoffrey, The Architecture of Humanism, 2d ed., Scribner, 1924

Staley, Edgcumbe, The Guilds of Florence, McClurg, 1906

Symonds, J. A., A Short History of the Renaissance in Italy, Holt, 1894

Taylor, H. O., Thought and Expression in the Sixteenth Century , 2 vols,, Macmillan, 1920 Triggs, H. I., The Art of Garden Design in Italy, Longmans, Green, 1906

Vasari, Giorgio, The Lives of the Painters, Sculp- tors and Architects, tr. by A. B. Hinds, 4 vols,, Dutton, 1927 (Everyman’s Library) Venturi, Adolfo, A Short History of Italian Art, tr.

by Edward Hutton, Macmillan, 1926 Young, G. F., The Medici, Modern Library, 1930

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[a] Duccio. Majesta. Detail of the center. Originally it had an elaborate Gothic frame. 1308-11. Siena Cathedral Museum. (Alinari)

27

PAINTING

Sienese and Florentine Painting

I F sculpture in the early Renaissance was definitely architectural, paint- ing was equally so. When not actual mural decoration, mosaic or fresco, for which Italian buildings with their large areas of unbroken walls were peculiarly adapted, it was an altarpiece or a panel commissioned for a definite site pos- sessing a definite lighting. The painters

were still working in the provincial “Italo-Byzantine,” style which was a decadent form of early Byzantinism, though the contemporary Greek cul- ture of the second climax with its great schools of painting seems also to have been felt in Italy, and in Rome a faint thread of Roman naturalism appeared now and then. Thus, as in architecture and sculpture, we find in early Renais- sance painting medieval styles which through the impacts of new attitudes and new ideas evolved, after an age of transition, into a new style.

PAINTING 469

It is in Siena that the older style of the East blossomed into its finest flower- ing in Italy; in Florence that the new style was initiated and led to a brilliant climax. Reasons for this difference are not difficult to find. Siena, though situ- ated only about thirty miles from Flor- ence (Fig. 43 1 a), always remained in temperament close to the mystic East, 1 and was too conservative to admit the new ideas and classical influences, as is illustrated by the story of the statue of Aphrodite that was discovered near the city and set up to decorate the public fountain. Because a long series of dis- asters subsequent to the coming of Aphrodite was laid to her malevolent presence, the city council decreed not only her removal but, in naive faith, her burial far enough away from the city to be within the boundaries of its great foe, Florence.

Not only by temperament but by geographical situation Siena was des- tined to be out of the current of the Renaissance. In its lofty site on a triple hill it suffered a tragic disadvantage in comparison with the cities in the valleys on the great natural trade routes, such as Florence. Though important com- mercially in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and in close contact through Pisa with the East, it fell eventually but gloriously before mightier Florence, and the Renaissance swept by leaving it, in its emotional intensity and mysticism, isolated and still medieval.

Here, then, was congenial soil for Byzantinism, which reached a climax in Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255-1319), whose great altarpiece, the Majesta or Madonna in Majesty 2 (Fig. 468A), stood facing the nave on the high altar of the

1 See the life and letters of Saint Catherine, the most venerated saint of Siena.

2 For an account of the festive occasion when this altarpiece was carried from the shop to the

cathedral, see Langton Douglas, A History of Siena, Dutton, 1902, p, 336.

cathedral. In its original elaborate Gothic frame, with a liberal use of gold in the background and details, in the clear massing of large areas of color and definitely linear quality, it must have shared somewhat the sumptuous effect of a gold-ground mosaic. The Madonna and the Child, of majestic size, seated on an elaborate Cosmati throne and surrounded by four angels who bend over the throne and by row upon row of saints and angels, provide a clear central accent in a symmetrical, severely simple composition. Through clear areas of resplendent color gleams the gold of the ground, of the exquisitely tooled halos, and of small details — a beautiful example of tempera painting. The majesty of otherworldliness is com- bined with monumental splendor through the type of design that Duccio has used for a large altarpiece placed in a half-light.

Upon the reverse of the altarpiece was a series of small panels illustrating scenes from the life of Christ which show not only Duccio’s power of narra- tion— for these little pictures were meant to be read, as were the windows of Chartres — but also how, as in the front panel, he built his forms of light and color and organized them into a design whose very character achieved lucidity of statement and beauty of decoration. The composition of The Three Marys (Fig. 470A), for example, as a whole and in detail is traditional in Byzantine art, 3 using elements of a widely known pictorial language. The triangular pattern of the angel’s figure framed by the triangular hill and rest- ing upon a rectangularly paneled base is opposed to the blocklike group of the three Marys accented by a blocklike hill, and through both groups play curves and countercurves and sharp angles. Though the three figures pro- 3 See Byron and Talbot Rice, The Birth of Western Painting, PI. 59.

47 °

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[a] Duccio. Three Marys at the Tomb . A panel from the back of the Majesta. Siena Cathedral Museum. ( Alinari )

duce an effect of solidity and the sculp- tured hills one of a considerable feeling for space, the sharply defined areas of color, often of contrasting hues, and the flat gold background and halos leave one with the impression of a sumptu- ously decorative panel.

In many of Duccio’s figures we notice a limited use of light and shadow to suggest volume, naturalistic folds of drapery, some feeling for solidity and space — hints of the entrance, even into Siena, of the new naturalism which swept Europe in the thirteenth century, instances of which we noted in the sculpture at Chartres , and in the work of

the Pisani and Arnolfo. On the whole, however, these evidences of the new approach do not alter the essentially Byzantine character of Sienese paint- ing- .. ' . .

The followers of Duccio we find fo- cusing now upon one aspect, now upon another, of his all-inclusive style. Si- mone Martini (about 1285-1344) cre- ated exquisite surfaces — gold grounds, with marvelously tooled borders, through which play gliding linear rhythms and charming color-patterns. His Annunciation (Fig. 471 a), painted to be seen in the dim light of a chapel in the Siena Cathedral^ has a mosaiclike,

[a] Simone Martini ( assisted by Lippo Memmi). Annunciation. 1333. Uffizi, Florence. (Alinari)

sumptuous decorative quality, exqui- site and lyrical rather than epically monumental, as is Duccio’s Majesta (Fig. 468A) near by. The angel has just alighted and eagerly presses forward with the olive branch to deliver his message to the Virgin, who, interrupted in her reading, shrinks away, thus af- fording the painter, by her pose, an opportunity to combine the suave curves and countercurves of her figure in its dark robe into a charming pat- tern of blue against the gold ground, and to carry the movement, with the help of the arches of the frame, back to the angel. Here the rapid movement in the fluttering draperies and in the bro- ken patterns of gold brocade, wings, and

cloak offers an effective contrast to the quiet dark silhouette of the Virgin; the vase of flowers, the olive branch, and the floor, as well as the gold ground, unite the disparate elements. With prac- tically no reference to visual perception Simone wove symbols of figures into this charming, almost abstract pattern whose very loveliness of form intensifies the idea to be conveyed.

This delight in the loveliness of sur- face and sinuous line given such im- petus by Simone was one of the constant elements in Sienese painting and is by no means lacking in an entirely differ- ent follower of Duccio, Ambrogio Lorenzetti (active. 1 323-1348), whose robust figures, humanized from the

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[a] Sassetta. Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty. 1444. Originally one panel in an altar piece. Musie Conde, Chantilly. (. Ali - nari)

hieratic Duccio type, vigorous color contrasts, and equally vigorous straight lines, as well as a lucid organization within a realized space, 1 are evidences of the fact that he worked in Florence and there came into contact with the Humanistic and naturalistic movement of Giotto.

When the fifteenth-century Sienese painters could scarcely avoid some in- fluence from the powerful new move- ment permeating all Italy, it was still the traditions of their great Trecento forebears that dominated their work, onto which the new naturalism was

1 See Ambrogio’s frescoes in San Francesco , his narrative panoramic style in the Palazzo Pubblico, Siena; compare his Majestd of Massa Marituna with Duccio’s Majestd.

weakly grafted. To take the Mystic Marriage of St. Francis (Fig. 472 a) by Sassetta (1392-1450) as an example; though the gold ground has disap- peared before a landscape and terres- trial spaciousness, the slender Gothic figures provide an excuse for the use of rhythmically repeated calligraphic lines and a primary interest in pattern in which the use of space as an element of balance is matched only by the great masters of handling space, the painters of China and Japan. In fifteenth- century Sienese painting the monu- mental archaic form of Duccio was transformed into a frail loveliness that betokened a declining age.

In the invigorating air of cities in a ferment of changing ideas, the Byzan- tine style could hardly suffice as a means of expression. Gimabue (about 1 240-1 301) in the face of this inade- quacy attempted to revitalize its forms by infusing them with a new energy. Cavallini of Rome (active 1250-1330) in both his mosaics and frescoes at- tempted to meet the problem in a re- vival of Roman naturalism; that is, by modeling his figures in light and gradu- ated shadow and by making their garments deep folds of actual stuffs in- stead of fiat linear constructions, and by imbuing the figures with a stately dignity. Cavallini was something of a Nicola d 5 Apulia in painting, as Cima- bue, at least in his emotional content, was a Giovanni Pisano.

Here, then, were two general lines of approach which confronted the youth- ful Florentine Giotto ( 1 276-1336) when he came to Assisi to assist in the deco- ration of San Francesco, 2 which had been

■ 2 This church well illustrates Cimabue’s work in the Crucifixion (Upper Church) and the Madonna and Saint Francis (Lower Church) ; see also his Madonnas (Uffizi and Louvre). The Isaac series (Upper Church) represents the Roman school; for Cavallini, see the mosaics in Santa Maria in Trastevere (Rome) and the frescoes of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere (Rome).

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going on since its erection. And here was the very heart of one of the dy- namic forces of the Renaissance — Saint Francis and the Franciscan move- ment. At Assisi Giotto seems to have created a mode of expression which he set forth fully developed in the Arena Chapel 1 (Fig. 473A) at Padua a few years later. Here one senses at once a great gulf between the old and the new despite Giotto’s artistic ancestry in both Byzantine and Roman styles and his continued use of traditional Byzantine iconography and composition, his use of the contemporary fresco technique, and the usual practice of covering walls with narratives which served a com- bined didactic and decorative purpose.

The great difference between Giotto’s work and that of his predecessors is the difference between two widely diver- gent attitudes in painting . 2 The pro- ponents of the one (this is the Byzantine attitude) construct forms out of purely formal elements — line, light and dark, color, and texture — with little or no regard for the natural appearance of what is represented. The tendency is toward abstraction, and if carried to its logical conclusion would result in pure geometry. The proponents of the other, represented by Giotto, construct forms with direct reference to visual perception and spatial relations. The tendency is toward naturalism, and its logical conclusion is a photographic copy. Now what particularly impresses

1 So named because it stands on the site of an ancient Roman arena or amphitheater. It is also called the Scrovegni Chapel because Enrico Scrovegni, the son of a wealthy Paduan, who was so avaricious that Dante placed him in the seventh circle of hell among the usurers, had built the chapel as if to atone for the reputation

of the family.

2 These two attitudes, which roughly divide all painting into -two groups — with many border cases, of course — are highly important for an understanding of the evolution of Euro- pean painting and particularly for its twentieth- century phase.

[a] The Arena Chapel. Padua. Decorated with frescoes by Giotto , 1305. (Anderson)

one about Giotto’s work, in comparison with the Byzantine, is its actuality, its wholehearted grasp of an actuality based upon visual perception. Other painters had groped in this direction* Perhaps Tuscany inherited more than its name from the Etruscans of long ago. Perhaps there still existed a slight thread of their vital human reality. One likes to feel this when looking at Cimabue’s Crucifixion. But Giotto was the first to turn definitely to visual actuality, and so definitely that he set painting on the path of visual investi- gation that it was to travel for five hun- dred years.

Take the Pieta (Fig. 475A) as an ex- ample. The body of Christ is held and surrounded by mourners who are ac- tual people, with real bodies in clearly defined space, united in their expression of intense human grief; in fact the entire fresco is permeated with this emotional quality. There is the mere suggestion of a barren landscape — a rocky hillside

474

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[a] Giotto. Obsequies of St. Francis. Fresco, c. 1320. Santa Croce , Florence. ( Alinari )

and a dead tree. The sky is filled with angels who are giving themselves up to unrestrained grief. The center of in- terest is the head of Christ, on which all the lines converge — the curves of the bending figures, and the forceful diagonal of the hill, which is broken by one of the figures and hence not too obvious, the vertical folds of the drapery just above the Virgin, and even the glance of the two upright figures on the right, whose function is to balance the group on the left and to form, in an almost architectural way, a framework for the central group. Every figure in the panel plays its part, as if it were an architectural member of an abstract construction to which every gesture and detail is a contributing element. Look- ing at the individual figures, we see how economically yet how convincingly the bodies are realized as masses exist- ing in space, and with what discrimi- nation their simplest aspects only are expressed. Line, chiefly, combined with a limited use of shadow, defines the

mass of the figures , 1 each of which is so placed that movement in shallow space radiates from the focal point ellipti- cally; for the opportunity for movement is chiefly lateral, since the space is abruptly terminated by the flat blue ground. This blue, used consistently in all the panels, serves as the unifying element in the entire decorative scheme.

An arresting balance and coherence of static and dynamic elements appear in the Obsequies of Saint Francis (Fig. 474A), whose basic composition is ex- pressive of deep calm. This is due to an emphasis upon symmetry and a bal-

1 This kind of drawing might be called sculp- tural, and is found in the drawings of those artists who see and feel masses in three dimensions and thus is to be distinguished from the calligraphic line of such painters as Simone Martini and the Persian miniaturists. Roger Fry calls attention to the fact that when we realize the great sig- nificance of Giotto’s line, the famous story of Giotto’s O seems credible. For this story see Vasari’s life of Giotto. See also Bernhard Berenson’s essay stressing “tactile values” in The Florentine Painters of the Renaissance, Putnam, I9 0 9.

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475

[a] Giotto, Piet A. Fresco. 1305. Arena Chapel, Padua. ( Alinari )

anced use of verticals and horizontals, in contrast to the Pietd, in which the stress lies upon asymmetry and the diagonal. Indeed, almost every paint- ing by Giotto shows his inventiveness, for each presents a different problem of integrating visually perceived figures and objects into just that type of ab- stract organization which will convey the significance of the event. In the Obsequies, the architectural framework and the static, columnar figures at the sides provide a setting for the central group, which is contrastingly dynamic because of the asymmetrical arrange- ment of the figures about the bier, the

backward and forward movement within the group, and the more em- phatic use of curved and diagonal lines . 1

Giotto’s unique and powerful art produced imitators only, who were without his power of lucid synthesis. Sienese painting was at its climax, for Duccio and Giotto were contempo- raries and Ambrogio Lorenzetti was

1 Giotto’s paintings are so clearly and pre- cisely composed that few works offer better opportunity for careful analysis for the purpose of showing how every detail is an indispensable element in a closely articulated organic struc- ture.

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[a] Masaccio, Tribute Money, Fresco, c. 1425-28. Brancacci Chapel of Santa Maria della Carmine, Florence. ( Alinari )

painting in Florence about the time of Giotto’s death. Thus the painters of the second half of the Trecento vacillated between an attempt to copy Giotto’s forms and a maintenance of the tra- ditional medieval style, which was much more popular and more easily understood than Giotto’s.

Hence it was not until the fifteenth century that the movement initiated by Giotto found further expression in Masaccio (1401-1428), 1 whose frescoes in the Brancacci Chapel of the Carmine (Florence) dominated the Florentine school of the fifteenth century as did the sculpture and building of his contem- poraries, Brunelleschi and Donatello,

1 Masaccio’s real name was Tomaso; but because of his careless disregard for his personal affairs, his forgetfulness of his debtors and equally of his creditors, he won the nickname Masaccio, a shortened form of Tomasaccio, meaning “Clumsy Tom.” The Florentines frequently gave expression to their fun-loving disposition by applying appropriate nicknames to their citizens, which became so current that they have taken precedence over the real name. Thus in the case of Donatello, this sculptor’s name was Donato, to which the suffix -ello, denoting en- dearment, was added, signifying the loving es- teem felt by the Florentines for him. See Vasari for the lives of Brunelleschi, Donatello, and Masaccio.

with whom he was closely associated.

To illustrate by the Tribute Money (Fig. 476A), we see a group in a rugged barren landscape of great depth and spaciousness, not abbreviated or sym- bolic, as in Giotto, into which the fig- ures fit as in the world of actuality visually perceived. The Disciples are gathered about Christ, who is directing Peter to go and cast his line, saying that in the mouth of the first fish he will find a coin with which he is to pay the tax. In the foreground, with his back to the spectator, stands the publican. The two concluding incidents are also shown in the panel, for at the left Peter is seen dragging the fish from the water, at the right he is giving the publican the coin. The visual reality of the scene is what Vasari felt when he said that Masaccio was the first artist to attain to the imitation of things. But the scene is not merely an imitation of na- ture. Like Donatello, Masaccio is en- hancing the significance of the theme by translating it into monumental form. Christ is the central figure among the Disciples encircling Him. But notice the construction of the group. It is compact, with all heads on a level, and is set definitely into a space created by

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the architecture and the landscape. The group accentuates this space because it is controlled by a spiraling movement which begins with the publican on the frontal plane and swings backward and around elliptically to terminate in the figure of Christ. To the enframing land- scape, architecture, and lateral figures, the group is tied by repeating verticals and diagonals, by a consistent lighting, and, if one can judge despite over- paintings, by an all-pervasive atmos- phere. The landscape carries one into deep space, in contrast to Giotto’s flat blue grounds, which maintain the solid- ity of the wall and provide but shallow space for the figures. The individual figures are large and massive, as were Giotto’s, but they also give evidence of bodily structure — as in the figure of the publican, in which one feels a bony framework, muscles, joints, and articu- lations which enable the organism to support itself and to move. As Vasari says, “Masaccio made his figures stand upon their feet.” This detailed knowledge is incorporated into broad inclusive line and simplified planes of light almost sculptural in their effect. Note this in the Expulsion and the Bap- tism, both in the Brancacci Chapel.

In his Trinity (Fig. 47 7 a), Masaccio again showed his keen interest in per- spective as a means for creating both space and monumental design. Here he has broken down the wall and ex- tended the actual space of the nave into an illusionary space, and thus has cre- ated a chapel covered with a coffered barrel vault. The figures he has com- posed into a triangular group, the donors in the frontal plane outside the chapel, the others within, in parallel receding planes. As the level of the eye is low, the vault encloses the group with great power; and the clear linear design of contrasting curvilinear and angular motifs contributes to the monu- mentality of the design.

[a] Masaccio. Trinity with the Virgin, St. John, and. Donors. Fresco, c. 1426. Santa Maria Novella, Florence. (Alinari)

With Masaccio we enter the early Renaissance, with its eager enthusiasm for inquiry. The world of actuality, curiosity about man and his world, led to fresh observations and to a compel- ling need for new forms in which to ex- press them. The supranatural grandeur of Byzantinism arose from an entirely different world from that in which the men of the Quattrocento found them- selves. Hence there began a scientific search for a more adequate type of expression. This involved the study of anatomy for the structure of the figure; of light and shadow to show its volume; of linear and aerial perspective to de- termine its place in space; and of new technical methods of mixing and apply- ing pigment.

Paolo Uccello (1397-1475) displayed a compelling enthusiasm for perspec- tive in his battle pieces (Fig. 478A), but not as an end in itself. The foreshort-

[a] Paolo Uccello. Bat- tle Piece, c. 1456. Na- tional Gallery , London. The analyses show (a) the organization of the foreground and back- ground in depth by means of linear perspective, but they are not united by the middle distance, which is more or less a void as far as space is concerned; and

(b) the composition of the main elements of the paint- ing into planes generally parallel to the picture plane with the movement lateral.

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479

[a] Andrea del Cos - tagno. Touthful David. Painted leather shield. Widener Collection, Na- tional Gallery of Art , Washington. ( National Gallery )

ened figure, spears, and miscellany in the foreground carry one directly and insistently across space into the middle distance, whence the roads and the diminished figures continue the move- ment into the far distance. Thus is carved out a space for the action. A mass of soldiers, accented by their spears, moves in from the left, a move- ment balanced by the road moving forward diagonally from the depth at the right. The “impressionistic” crowd becomes more and more clearly de- fined until in the foreground simple

trenchant forms of horsemen stand fixed, their movement transmuted into immobility. Each form is clearly de- fined, of itself and in space, by juxta- posing highly contrasting values and by the sharp delineation of the forms by line. Thus an incident of complex move- ment becomes a clearly co-ordinate organization of formal and decorative beauty, in the search for which science was used only as the means to an end. In fact all the artists of this “scientific” group to which Paolo belonged sought scientific knowledge of the visual world

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[a] Antonio Pollaiuolo. Battling Nudes. Between 1463 and 1480. Paul J. Sachs Collection, Cambridge, Mass. (Paul J. Sachs)

for this purpose, and because they were primarily great artists “their facts had to be digested into form.” 1

Important members of this group were Andrea del Castagno (1397-1457), whose David (Fig. 479A) reveals An- drea’s tense incisiveness; Domenico Veneziano (1400-1461), an important innovator in the field of oil glazes; An- tonio Pollaiuolo (1429— 1498); Andrea del Verrocchio (1435-1488); Alesso Baldovinetti (1425-1499); and the Um- bro-Florentines, Piero della Francesca (1416-1492) and Luca Signorelli (1441- 1522).

Baldovinetti’s workshop was an im- portant center for the group about the middle of the century. Secular subject matter, especially the classical, and por- traiture, emerging at a time of forceful individualism, was claiming attention. Experiments were going on in the use

1 Fry, Vision and Design, “The Art of Flor- ence.”

of oil as a freer, more slowly drying me- dium than tempera; and in aerial as well as linear perspective. Part of this we see in Baldovinetti’s Madonna (Fig. 48 1 a). The figure of the Madonna is realized as mass and is constructed as tersely as Uccello’s horses. Though it rises majestically into a great spa- ciousness, it bears no natural relation- ship to the landscape behind it. Yet the two tie into an organic design of complementary sharp angles and suave curves, of slow movements in un- broken contours balanced by the rapid rhythms of veil, hair, and meandering streams. These motifs are repeated all through the canvas with unmistakable clarity because of the sharp juxtaposi- tion of lights and darks, which contrib- utes to the generally decorative effect of the panel.

Antonio Pollaiuolo, trained first, like many Florentine artists, as a goldsmith, became equally successful as a sculptor,

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481

[a] Baldovinetti. Madonna, c. 1460. Louvre ,. Paris. ( Giraudon )

as a painter, as an engraver, and as a designer of tapestries. In a small panel representing Heracles Slaying the Hydra (Fig. 48 1 b), Heracles is rushing upon the monster, grasping one of the heads in the left hand and about to bring down his club with the right hand. The two figures nearly fill the panel and stand out against a low-lying land- scape with winding rivers in much the same way as in Baldovinetti’s Madonna. In the figure of Heracles we feel the tenseness of the muscles and the ar- ticulation of the joints as every part of the anatomy responds to the demand of the moment. One leg is bent to a right angle and firmly placed, with toes clutching the ground, the other is stretched to its utmost as he concen- trates his energy upon the attack. As Berenson says, Antonio Pollaiuolo was “one of the greatest masters of move- ment that there ever has been and one

[b] Antonio Pollaiuolo. Heracles Slaying the Hydra. 1460. Uffizi, Florence.

of the ablest interpreters of the human body as a vehicle of life- communicating energy and exulting power.” We know that he made searching studies in per- spective and in anatomy, especially through dissection. What interested him particularly was how the human figure would act in violent movement. For this reason he usually selected sub- jects that gave an opportunity for ac- tion. In his engraving of the Battling Nudes (Fig. 480A), each figure is an epitome of intense energy, a grimly realistic expression of human ferocity. Yet what a superb pattern these figures weave against the curtainlike back- ground of plants and trees! This balance between visual perception and formal organization is well illustrated in a charming portrait (Fig. 485B), possibly by Antonio, a beautiful example of tempera technique with exquisite mod- ulations and a decorative effect that

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results from the fine, precise brush strokes and the sharply defined edges.

Connected with this scientific group was an Umbrian, Piero della Francesca (about 1416-1492), who after a sojourn in Florence returned to his native province to execute some of the most monumental frescoes in Italy. At Arezzo he decorated a chapel with scenes from the legend of the cross on which Christ was crucified. Figure 482A shows a de- tail from the Visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon , in which the queen is kneel- ing before a bridge made from the tree that was destined to furnish the wood for the cross. The queen and her attend- ants form a compact group, accented by a tree. From figure to figure the

eye is carried by the alternating light and dark areas (compare Paolo Uc- cello’s horses, Figure 478A), and by the long sweeping lines of the garments to the group on the left, that of the grooms and horses, also accentuated by a tree. Here the white horse turns the move- ment inward, where it is caught by the light hat and the black horse, and is taken up by the undulating* hills, whose quiet rhythm is accented by the staccato of the trees. Every figure fits inevitably into the ample spaciousness, which is cut off in the middle distance, keeping the wall rather flat. Even the illimitable sky is held by the decisive trees. A pro- found calm devoid of human emotion pervades the austere figures, in which

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483

[a] Piero della Francesca. Resurrection of Christ. Fresco. Gallery of Bor go San Sepolcro.

Piero shows a lofty disregard of an il- lusion of natural appearance yet com- municates a deeply convincing feeling of actuality. Every figure and every object is reduced to geometric simplic- ity and is placed with mathematical precision in space and in relation to

every other figure — a relationship in- dicated precisely by the shapes and the movements of contrasted light and dark color-masses with sharply de- fined edges and tied together by an all-pervading cool tonality. “The lofty expanse of sky is an intense, unforgetta-

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| tf ';: v

[a] Fra Angelico. Coronation of the Virgin, c. 1430. San Marco , Florence. An example of beautiful tempera painting: gaily colorful , luminous , effectively organized in shallow space. The intense colors of the robes , interspersed with the gold of the halos and details, set against the gold ground produce the effect of a magnified cloisonni enamel.

ble blue, not medievally flat, not filled with realistic clouds and haze, but varied a little in tone, so that it seems to recede into infinite distance. Its hue condenses to a deeper turquoise in some of the robes, and its pale dry light de- scends to reveal every figure with un- flickering crystal clarity. It fills both highlights and background with a fresh, cool atmosphere, against which garments of deep red, green and gold

stand out here and there in warmer contrast.” 1

In contrast to this permeating light, Piero makes use of a highly concen- trated light in the Dream of Constantine (Arezzo), which foreshadows Tinto- retto and Rembrandt. Here is a frame- work as architectural as a building: the

1 Thomas Munro, Great Pictures of Europe, Goward-McCann, 1930, p. 133. This book is excellent for clear concise statements on color.

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485

[a] Luca Signorelli. Last Judgment. De- tail. 1500-04. Orvieto Cathedral. {Anderson)

cylindrical tent capped with a cone, a motif repeated in the tent opening and in the distant tents; the two columnar guards, the vertical spear and tent pole; the opposing horizontal bed and reclining figure. This stern regularity is given vitality by the angel, by the seated attendant, and by the strong light which radiates from the angel to the em- peror and his servant. In his Resurrection (Fig. 483 a), which Piero painted for his native town of Borgo San Sepolcro, an austere Byzantinesque figure stands above the tomb with imperturbable calm. The rigidly erect frontal pose, accented by the repeating verticals of the banner and the trees and the strong horizontals of the tomb, stands opposed to the inward and outward movement and the diagonal lines in the group of sleeping guards. The sternness of the standing figure is mitigated by the curves in the drapery, repeated in the hills, and its static quality is merged into the

[b] Unknown Artist. Portrait of a Lady, c. 1460. Poldi Pezzoli, Milan. {Alinari)

dynamic of the group by the move- ment in the bent knee, the hand, and the drapery. Note in this detail the fine integration of parts, definitely sculptural in feeling.

If in Piero scientific knowledge of mathematics, perspective, and anatomy was distilled to its essence and objec- tified in cool, impersonal, abstract forms infinitely precise in their relation- ships and architectural in quality as mural decoration, in his pupil Signorelli (1441-1523) this knowledge manifested itself in another direction, as we see in the frescoes of the San Brizio Chapel in the Cathedral of Orvieto. Here seething groups are carefully organized in space (Fig. 485A) and adapted to the lunette- shaped areas. But in contrast to the im- mobility and high simplification of Piero’s figures, Signorelli’s are filled with movement, muscular strain, and tense energy, like those of Antonio Pollaiuolo.

4 86 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Fra Filippo Lippi. Madonna and Child with Two Angels, c. 1457. Uffizi, Florence. Compare with Figs. 468 A 3 500 A.

In this group of experimenters lay the fire of the Quattrocento. Yet it did not comprise all the painters in Flor- ence. As in Ghiberti among the sculp- tors, the medieval style persisted in a more reactionary group, illustrated by Fra Angelico (1387-1455). As his name implies, he was a /rate, a monk, brought up in the medieval tradition fostered in the monasteries. In his Coronation of the Virgin (Fig. 48 4 a ), Christ and the Virgin are represented seated upon a throne of clouds from which radiate golden rays, and about which circle angels and saints. The panel is a beautiful pattern of bright colors and gold organized by sweeping lines. We mark how effec- tively the drapery of the angels nearest the central group encircles it; how the rhythm is repeated in the outer circle of angels and saints, and relieved by the

kneeling saint in the left foreground | and the angel with the harp on the |

right; and how the long trumpets very |

effectively fill the space above. Clarity I

of form always marks the work of Fra f

Angelico. His elements of organization |

are line, strongly calligraphic, and in- |

tensely bright color areas of dominant »

blues combined with rose and green and j

a liberal interspersing of gold. It is the |

art of the miniature translated into the J

tempera technique, and exemplifies |

admirably the glowing quality of that f

technique. |

Fra Angelico could hardly escape, however, some influence from the in- j!

novations sweeping Florence. So we find his gold grounds giving way to landscape and to architectural details j

that are Renaissance, not Gothic, in j

style. In his late frescoes in Rome he reveals both volume in his individual figures and organization in depth.

While in a general way the painters of fifteenth-century Florence fell into the two groups typified by Masaccio and Fra Angelico, many did not, for the output of the shops, in this experi- mental age when life was all eagerness and spirits ran high, was too prolific, varied, and uneven to be so definitely pigeonholed. There was Fra Filippo Lippi (1406-1469), who profited from contact with Masaccio even if the calli- graphic line of Fra Angelico found its way into his work. His own liking for the gracious, charming types and as- pects of life which he saw in Florence led him to imbue the traditional reli- gious themes with a gracious humanity (Fig. 486 a). Benozzo Gozzoli (1420- 1498) in the refreshingly gay decora- tions of the private chapel in the palace of the Medici represents ostensibly the Journey of the Magi but in reality a vivid pageant of the Medici court. Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494) in Santa Maria Novella makes scenes from the New Testament excuses for the family por-

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traits of rich merchants — a vivid pic- ture of the “men and manners” of the Florence of that time. The popular, narrative style of this group with its gaiety and easy charm, infused though it is at times with the sterner aspects of the scientific group, is quite analogous to that of the Desiderio group of sculptors, which emphasized surface loveliness and decorative charm.

Thus this vividly alive century moves into its last quarter. Certain youths, then apprentices, were partly to con- tinue its spirit of investigation and partly to take the results of its researches and by the strength of their individu- alities mold them into the more unified style of the sixteenth century — Botti- celli, Leonardo, Raphael, Michel- angelo, Fra Bartolommeo, Andrea del Sarto.

Sandro Botticelli (1444-1510), whose individual bent for calligraphic line was not crushed but rather was devel- oped by his grounding in the realistic school, was a unique product of the Florentine school because he was out of its main current. Instead of accept- ing his visual perceptions as something to reproduce, he “conceived the visual world as an architecture of rhythmic line” 1 - — not Giotto’s sculptural line, which defines masses, but something akin to that of the Persian miniaturists. In The Birth of Venus (Fig. 42 7A), on the sea a classical goddess stands lightly on a shell that is being blown to the shore amid a shower of roses by two vigorous zephyrs; at the right a nymph is hurrying with a mantle to meet her. The composition is built on a great arc that rises along the figures of the winds, reaches its crown in the head of Venus, follows the fluttering hair, and is car- ried down by the arm of the nymph

1 Yukio Yashiro, Sandro Botticelli and the Floren- tine Renaissance, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1929 — a sympathetic interpretation from the point of view of an Oriental.

[a] Leonardo. Mona Lisa. Portrait of the wife of Z an °bi del Giocondo. 1303-06. Louvre, Paris, (Alinari)

and the line of the mantle. This arc is repeated in the upper curve of the shell, and about it play quick nervous move- ments in drapery, hair, wings, and water. The tall, slender figure of Venus with its long, quiet lines, standing some- what isolated against a low horizon, is rather flat, and the contour lines, while they model the form, as long graceful curves have a beauty of their own, and are emphasized by the movement in the great mass of hair twisting and fluttering and framing the drooping head, whose expression of wistful mel- ancholy is characteristic of Botticelli. The flying locks lead to the nymph, where the impatient, whimsical curves of the drapery are all the more restless in contrast to the straight lines of the tree trunks, the little promontories, and the horizon. After all, the significance lies in line and pattern. The lines model,

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[a] Botticelli. Dante and Virgil in Purgatory. Drawing to illustrate Dante’s Divine Com- edy, Purgatory XXV-VI. 1492-97.

insofar as they express the essentials of form, yet they have a quality of their own. Now they are long and quiet, now short and capricious^ now whimsical, and always rhythmic. “My fancy is never checked: as the zephyr it flows smoothly along the gull-like pattern of waves on the green sea, along the facile lines of Venus’ golden hair. You will soon forget the actual picture and you do not notice it: it is so evanescent and shy, as rare as a dream.” 1

The waning of medieval religious fervor and the increasing popularity of secular, and particularly classical, themes, especially under the stimula- tion and patronage of the court of the Medici, is well illustrated in Botticelli. The Calumny (Fig. 489A), for example, is an attempted reconstruction, with the help of classical literature, of a famous 1 Ibid.

painting of the Greek painter Apelles. Calumny and Envy, accompanied by Treachery and Deceit, drag the inno- cent victim before the judge into whose asses’ ears Ignorance and Suspicion are whispering; at the left, naked Truth protests in isolation while Remorse looks to Truth as she moves toward the vindictive group. The painting illus- trates a break from the more usual sym- metrical to an asymmetrical balance. Its movement is lateral and is set in the shallow space of an architectural frame- work whose perspective combines with the linear and light-and-dark organiza- tion to focus upon the group before the judge. The movement and the warm glowing color in the figures are height- ened by being set over against the static architectural framework in neu- tral color and gold, through which is seen a cool sky and sea.

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[a] Botticelli. Calumny. Uffizi , Florence. 1483-go. ( Alinari )

Botticelli’s feeling for line finds its purest expression in his drawings for the Divine Comedy. As illustrations for Dante, they are far in spirit from the profound, majestic, and dramatic poem. In Figure 488A, between a precipice in the foreground and high cliffs in the background, both indicated by freely sketched lines with no use of light and shade, runs a band of flame before which Virgil and Dante are walking, discoursing with the souls being purged in the fire. The form is in terms of line only, though Botticelli may have in- tended to use color in the figures. The broken, rapid, leaping lines, held in check by the firm straight lines in the figures and held between the cliffs, evoke an emotional reaction to move- ment per se, as in music or the dance; and they also suggest seething flames Without actually imitating their ap- pearance. Thus Botticelli’s attitude to- ward natural appearance was very

close to that of the Far Eastern mas- ters 1 of India, China, and Japan (Figs. 247 a, 380A, 392 a). ^

Contemporary with, though far dif- ferent from, Botticelli was Leonardo da Vinci ( 1 452-15 19), an epitome of the “myriad-minded” man of the Renais- sance. For centuries Europe had been breaking away from the dogma and the authority of the Middle Ages. Finally, with the help of the newly discovered Humanistic classical culture, an en- tirely new world lay before man. It was not in view of everyone, but it strongly aroused the keen observation and eager curiosity of such a truly scientific spirit as Leonardo, whose myriad-sided curi- osity is revealed best in his notes (com- prising more than five thousand pages) , jottings and studies, liberally inter- spersed with sketches, on botany, geology, zoology, optics; on hydraulic and military engineering and all kinds 1 See pages 380-84.

[a] Leonardo. Last Supper, c. 1495-98. Refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan. (. Alinari ) The doorway in the foreground was cut through later. The ruined condition of the Last Supper is due partly to careless restoration and vandalism and partly to the fact that in this painting Leonardo appeared to be experimenting, as was his habit, in media, and painted upon a wrongly prepared surface.

of physical and mechanical sciences; on Latin and Italian grammar; on animal lore; on perspective, light and shade, color, anatomy; and on man — struc- tural, emotional, and intellectual. Nothing of man and his world seems omitted. Painting and sculpture were merely two of a multitude of Leo- nardo’s interests. 1

In his notebook jottings on painting, 2 Leonardo says of the purpose of paint- ing: “A good painter has two chief ob- jects to paint — man and the intention of his soul. The former is easy, the latter hard, for it must be expressed by gestures and movements of the limbs. ... A painting will only be won- derful for the beholder by making that

1 See the remarkable letter of self-recommen- dation which Leonardo wrote to the Duke of Milan in Osvald Siren, Leonardo da Vinci , Yale University Press, 19x6, p. 59.

2 Later collected from all his manuscripts and put together into what is now known as his Treatise on Painting.

which is not so appear raised and de- tached from the wall” — that is, model- ing with light and shadow is the heart of painting, and particularly a some- what diffused light. “Towards evening or in bad weather I have noticed the features of men and women in the streets and marked what grace and soft- ness can be seen thereon.” For Leo- nardo combined with his scientific atti- tude a very subtle esthetic sensibility, and a predilection for the gracious as- pects of the world.

Very early, perhaps while still in Verrocchio’s shop as an apprentice, he seems to have become a master in transferring his images to paper with the greatest freedom and spontaneity. In Figure 491 a, line alone models the baby form with its folds of soft flesh, and also expresses a single moment of delightful intimacy between mother and child, “the intention of the soul” as well as Leonardo’s predilection for “grace and dignity.”

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[a] Leonardo. Drawing of Madonna and Child. Pen and ink. Louvre , Paris. (Giraudon)

In the unfinished Adoration (Fig. 49 1 b) 1 Leonardo has placed the Ma- donna in the center, somewhat back from the frontal plane — a position emphasized by the inward movement of the kneeling king on the right — and has encircled her with the group of figures. In this painting he has posed and partly solved a spatial and a psy- chological problem: the formal unity in space of a dramatic group all of whose movement focalize upon the quiet, somewhat isolated central figures; and an emotional unity that binds the

1 The underpainting, in browns, has been laid in, a few of the heads and the Child’s figure quite completely modeled in light and shadow, the Virgin’s and the kings’ sketched only. The painting would have been completed by continuing the modeling and then adding the local color, either in tempera or in the newer oil medium which Leonardo used in his later works. Several preliminary drawings show the evolution of the design.

[b] Leonardo. Adoration of the Magi, cen- tral figure. Unfinished. 1481-1304. UJfizi, Florence. (Alinari)

dramatic figures together in the adora- tion of the Christ Child. The back- ground is filled with miscellaneous ob- jects — horsemen, ruined architecture, trees and landscape — and bears little compositional relation to the compact foreground group except that the large trees help tie them both together. Com- plete organization in deep space has not yet been attained.

Formally and emotionally, a great similarity exists between the Adoration and the Last Supper (Fig. 490A), 2 except that in the latter the highly dramatic action is made still more emphatic by the placement of the group in a quiet setting. In a simple, spacious room, at a long table set in the foreground paral- lel to the picture plane, Christ and the

2 See the preliminary drawings for this paint- ing in most of the books on Leonardo or in Bern- hard Berenson, The Drawings of the Florentine Painters, University of Chicago Press, 1938.

492

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[a] Leonardo . Madonna of the Rocks. Louvre , Paris. (Alinari)

twelve disciples are seated. Christ, with outstretched hands, has just said, “One of you will betray me.” At this state- ment a wave of intense excitement passes through the group as each asks, “Is it I?” The force and the lucidity with which this dramatic moment is expressed are due to the abstract or- ganization. In the center is the figure of Christ, in perfect repose, isolated from the disciples, framed by the cen- tral window at the back, emphasized by the curved line over the opening (the only curved line in the architec- tural framework), and the focal point of all the lines in the composition. Into this reposeful framework are fitted four groups of agitated disciples, united within themselves and also to one an-

other by a movement of the hand, a gesture of the arm, or a turn of the head. The two figures at the ends are more quiet, as if to frame in the movement, which grows more intense as it ap- proaches the figure of Christ, whose quietude at the same time halts and intensifies it. All this movement is lateral and confined to a plane parallel to the picture plane and but slightly removed from it in depth.

The ruined condition of the Last Supper makes it advisable to turn to other paintings, such as the Madonna of the Rocks (Fig. 492A) to illustrate the increasing depth and mystery of shad- ows and their tendency to break up the unity of the design. In this picture we see an arresting change in the use of pictorial elements. For the means by which the figures are knit together into a pyramidal group — a characteristic Renaissance design — is not so much line as areas of high lights and deep shadows, with subtle gradations of tone — which illustrates well Leo- nardo’s theory of “modeling in light and shadow.” Contrast the perfect clarity and architectural function of every detail in Piero’s frescoes (Fig. 482 a). Leonardo’s predilection for high lights and deep shadows must have been highly stimulated by the use of oil as a medium, with its capacity for subtle nuances such as are found in the Madonna of the Rocks and the Mona Lisa, which have a loveliness of their own and at the same time a capacity for re- cording in the face enigmatic “inten- tions of the soul.”

Mona Lisa (Fig. 487A) is seated in an armchair on a loggia whose stone rail and columns frame a misty landscape. She is simply dressed, with no orna- ments, and her hair, falling in loose ringlets, is covered by a thin veil. The composition recalls Baldovinetti’s Ma- donna (Fig. 48 1 a) — a pyramidal mass sensitively related to the space and to

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the background. The powerfully real- ized figure with strong, almost unbroken contours rises against a vague dream- like landscape whose elusive movement repeats itself in the subtle nuances of the face. Sharp high lights in the crumpled satin folds act as a foil to the extraor- dinarily subtle modeling of the hands. This interaction of the definite and the indefinite, the pyschological and the formal, controls the composition. A defi- nitely felt vertical axis falls from the forehead to the crossed hands, connect- ing the two masses of interest, the face and the hands, each of which is an ex- ample of Leonardo’s technical ability to objectify his visual perception realisti- cally by means of infinitely gradual transitions from light to shadow. By this means also he could depict in the face that elusive expression 1 which re- flects fleeting emotions into the mys- teries of which Leonardo’s curiosity led him to delve.

With Michelangelo, on the other hand, we meet a man who was inter- ested in big generic ideas and who, building upon the researches of the sci- entists of the fifteenth century, in paint- ing and sculpture alike used the figure as a vehicle for the expression of these conceptions. As has been noted, he con- sidered himself a sculptor; and when Pope Julius II ordered him to decorate the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel 2 (Fig. 494a), he rebelled. But the Pope was in- sistent. The result looks as if Michel- angelo had said, “Well, if the Pope will have his ceiling, let him have it; but,” as WoMin suggests, “he will have to stretch his neck to see it.” As a scheme

1 Read Walter Pater’s famous passage in his essay on Leonardo in The Renaissance, which is poetic prose on the theme of the Mona Lisa rather than a criticism of it as a painting. ;

2 Frescoes in three chapels form epochs in the history of Italian painting: those in the Arena Chapel by Giotto, about 1405; in the Brancacci Chapel by Masaccio, 1 424-26; in the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo, 1508-12.

[a] Michelangelo. Decorative Nude. Sis- tine Ceiling. 1508-12 . ( Alinari )

of decoration, this ceiling is an absurd- ity, a penance alike to the artist while he painted it and to the spectator who wishes to look at it. A vast complex of humanity thunders down upon him, drowning out everything else, and the frescoes on the walls pale before it. Though the first impression is bewilder- ing, a brief study easily resolves the mass into a great pattern, the motifs of which are rhythmically repeated and inextricably co-ordinated (Fig. 494A). The eye is carried from human figure to human figure; prophets and sibyls sit in niches flanked, by pilasters on which are putti who serve, Caryatid- like, to hold up the painted cornice which runs the length of the vault and forms a framework for the central pan- els and a connecting link between the prophets and the panels; for on this cornice rest the blocks on which the nudes are seated, a pair at each cor- ner of the smaller panels, holding be-

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tween them, by means of bands, round medallions. These figures serve a dec- orative and unifying purpose, each pair with the help of the medallions carrying the eye, by their repeated rhythmic pat- tern, from the larger to the smaller panels all the length of the ceiling.

The marvel of gathering so many fig- ures into a harmonious unit would have been impossible except for the extremely simple, though strongly marked, archi- tectural framework, in monochrome, which holds the mass together, so that the eye can wander about among the figures and yet feel the unity of the whole. It is always the human figure, sharply outlined against the neutral tone of this architectural setting or the plain background of the panels. Why did Michelangelo decorate the ceiling

in this way? It was because to him the most beautiful, the most expressive, thing in the whole world was the human figure. It was beautiful not only because of its form but because of its spiritual and ethical significance, the state of mind or soul that its form could so suc- cessfully express. He represented it in its most simple, elemental aspect; that is, the nude or simply draped, with no background, no ornamental embellish- ment, and with an idealized physiog- nomy. It was upon the sheer power of definitely related masses that he de- pended. “Simple people,” he called the prophets. Jeremiah (Fig. 496A), to take an example, sits with head bowed upon his uplifted hand, sunk in deep thought. The related masses of the figure are powerfully expressed by broad brush

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[a] Michelangelo. Creation of Adam. Sistine Ceiling. 1508-12. {Anderson)

strokes, reminiscent of the sculptural drawing of Giotto ' except that in the Jeremiah the figure, instead of consisting of one mass, is a unit of organically re- lated masses of legs, torso, arms, and head. With what ease and inevitability, for example, the prophet’s left arm, as a mass, crosses and unites with the left leg as a mass. These backward and for- ward movements are stabilized by the sweeping contour of the shoulders re- peated in the drapery across the lap and by the insistent verticals in the beard and the drapery. The pose of the figure — with the drooping right shoulder, the weight of the head on the right hand, the limp left hand, the ponderous weight of the whole • — is determined by a desire to convey an impression of deep thought. There are no details to individ- ualize this prophet; everything is so gen-

eralized that we feel that this is not only Jeremiah brooding over Israel, is not only Michelangelo himself pondering in isolation and melancholy, but is every human being who, probing with his own soul beneath the surface of things, loses himself in the contemplation of the problems and mysteries of life.

It was probably in the twenty Nudes that Michelangelo was happiest, for here he had the opportunity of reveling in his ideal — the human nude conceived sculpturally. Although all serve the same decorative purpose (Fig. 4.95A), still they are very different, each, perhaps paradoxically, a more or less realistic rendering of the human figure and at the same time an expression of a defi- nite inner state of mind. In Figure 493A, strain and stress are symbolized by the mighty back, the thrust-out arm and

49 6 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Michelangelo. Jeremiah. Sistine Ceil- ing. 1508-12 . (Anderson)

shoulder, the violent contrasts in the direction of movement, the tousled hair, the sharp profile with open mouth; in other figures, there is ease and compla- cency, lyric joyousness, the weight of burden-bearing.

As an illustration of Michelangelo’s composition, let us examine the Creation of Adam (Fig. 495A), one of the larger panels of the ceiling. It is divided into two masses, which stand out clearly against the flat background. Adam, on a hillside — the hill is merely suggested, again a Giottesque quality — is just awakening. The physical potentialities of the reposeful figure are suggested in the balancing of broken jagged con- tours with those that are unbroken and suavely curving; and in the balancing of parts in movement — the thrust-back shoulder, the turned head, the sharply bent leg — with the relaxed outstretched arm and leg. This comparatively quiet figure is opposed to the second group,

that of God and His attendant spirits, which is full of vigorous movement; and the two are united by the two hands, each expressive of the mood of its pos- sessor — Adam’s limp and lifeless, God’fs tense with creative power.

In most of these figures on the ceiling, we can hardly fail to feel their inher- ently sculptural quality. Michelangelo himself says in a letter written while he was discouraged and depressed about the ceiling: “This is not my profession. I waste time without any results. God help me.” Yet in the medium of paint- ing he was motivated by the same desire as in sculpture — to organize the figure into a complex arrangement in space. And these arrangements usually involve strongly contrasting movements which produce a feeling of restlessness or even violence. It is futile to look for quietude in this artist.

In Michelangelo we reach a climax in painting so powerful that it over- whelmed the artists of the time, who forsook their own paths to follow in his — with the result that we have empty copying of his forms, lacking in creative spirit. Hence came the deca- dence which followed his death.

In Raphael (1483-1530) we find a rare ability to organize crowds of people in space. An Umbrian, a pupil of Peru- gino, he early acquired a feeling for spaciousness, characteristic of that mas- ter, a feeling that perhaps was partially acquired from the influence of the ac- tual open reaches of this gently rolling hill country . 1 In Perugino’s Crucifixion (Fig. 497A), for example, there is a dom- inant note of quiet repose, though the subject matter is dramatic and tragic. The painter has divided the wall space into three sweeping arches, which of themselves create a quiet rhythm. Into these the figures, uninteresting and even sentimental, are fitted as architectural

1 See Gabriel Faure, Wanderings in Italy, Houghton Mifflin, 1919, Pt. Ill, p. 141.

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[a] Perugino. Crucifixion. Fresco. 1493-96. Santa Maria Maddalena del Pazzi, Florence. Compare the background with Raphaels in Fig. 4971s. (Anderson)

I

units to form a triangle with a long base; behind, unifying the whole composi- tion, stretches a landscape of hills, val- leys, rivers, and trees, above which are reaches of sky, whose spaciousness is suggested by the tall slender trees at the left. The lines of this landscape are far- extending and quiet, and the distance is immersed in a bluish haze.

Apart from this Umbrian inheritance, Raphael was a product of the Florentine school. With great powers of assimila- tion, he profited not only from his contemporaries, Leonardo and Michel- angelo, but from Masaccio, Donatello, Pollaiuolo. The whole series of Raphael’s Madonnas, from the Granduca to the Sistine, is indicative of the way in which the Florentine masters were shaping this docile Umbrian talent. In La Belle Jardiniere (Fig. 497B) , for example, the influence of Leonardo appears in the grouping of the figures 1 ; that of Michel- angelo, in the restless twisting pose of

1 See the Madonna of the Rocks (Fig. 492 a) , and the Madonna with Saint Anne (Louvre).

[b] Raphael. Madonna: “La Belle Jardi- niere .” 1507-08. Lowre > Paris. (Braun)

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W

of Athens. 1569-11. Vatican , Rome. ( Anderson )

the Christ Child . 1 2 The group is set naturalistically into, not in front of, a charming landscape with the Umbrian feeling for tranquillity and spaciousness. There is a compelling realization of this spaciousness, though the Madonna dominates the picture.

The Sistine Madonna 2 derives its effect from a carefully studied design in depth with effective contrasts in movement and in light and dark color. The design is based on the usual pyramidal group- ing. The Madonna and the Child form a tight group with a gentle inward and outward movement set against a lumi- nous sky, the highest light in the paint- ing. This group is given further emphasis

1 See Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child (Bruges).

2 Painted for the Sistine monks of Piacenza and called Sistine because of their ownership

and the prominent figure of Pope Sixtus II.

by the lower kneeling figures with their stronger movement. One is turning in- ward, the other outward; one is looking up, the other down. Such abstract de- sign in space is the basis of the Madonna of the Chair , “which, with its even pure volute, resembles nothing so much as some exquisite sea-shell. ...”

“It is, however, in those compositions by Raphael that are laden with whole garlands of human bodies that we can best comprehend the genius for har- monic variations that combines over and over again those shapes wherein the life of forms has absolutely no aim other than itself and its own renewal .” 3 Raphael’s frescoes in the Vatican illus- trate this best.

In the Disputa (Fig. 499A), two arcs, moving inward from the frontal plane,

3 Henri Focillon, The Life of Forms in Art , Yale University Press, 1942, pp. 7-8.

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| [a] Raphael. Disputd. 150Q-11, Vatican, Rome. {Anderson)

approach each other at the central axis, and dignity is quite at one with six-

about which all parts are balanced sym- teenth-century ideals , 1 furnishes a deep

metrically. The upper arc encloses the framework in which the figures are so

scene in heaven, with Christ between placed that an elliptical movement

the Virgin and Saint John, surrounded swings from the front to each side and

by saints, angels, and cherubim; with thence back to the figures of Plato and

God the Father above, and the dove Aristotle framed by the series of arches,

below. The lower arc contains a more A supplementary movement inward di-

varied group, each figure contributing rectly from the picture plane to the

by its pose or gesture and its line and focal point is carried by the receding

color to the movement toward the four lines of the inlaid floor, the steps, and

Fathers of the Church gathered about the two seated figures,

the altar on which stands, silhouetted The imposing dignity and plastic unity

against the highest light and on the that we found in the architecture and

vertical axis, the monstrance, symbol of the sculpture of the High Renaissance

the mystery of the faith, and the focal thus find their counterpart in pamt-

point of the design. A serene Umbrian ing: in the great series of frescoes of

landscape serves to unite the two groups. Raphael and Michelangelo, and in such

Perhaps more imposing is the School 1 B raman te was at this time working on the

of Athens (Fig. 498A) . An effective archi- plans for the new St. Peter's and Raphael himself tectural setting, which in form, scale* was about to assist in this great undertaking.

5 00

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[a] Andrea del Sarto. Madonna of the Harpies ( from the figures of Harpies on the pedestal ) . 1517. Ujfizi, Florence . ( Alinari )

panel paintings as those of Fra Barto- lommeo and Andrea del Sarto (1486- 1531). In Andrea’s Madonna of the Harpies (Fig. 500 a), the stately figures almost fill the canvas. We find an echo of the traditional symmetrical pyram- idal grouping, but not the diffused lighting, the sharply defined contours, and the generally lateral movement of the Quattrocento. Instead we see dark shadows in which details are lost, blurred edges, and spiraling movements in a complete organization in depth which controls each figure as a single unit and as one unit of the group.

Northern Italian Painting

AMONG the cities of northern Italy (Fig. 431A) — Venice, Milan, Verona, Mantua, Ferrara, Bologna, Padua — Venice was chief. The islands on which it was built in the midst of salt

marshes near the head of the Adriatic Sea had offered a refuge for the peoples of northern Italy from the barbarian invaders of the fifth century. Thus isolated and segregated from the rest of Italy, it developed, as we have seen, quite independently. The Venetians early became a seafaring people, estab- lishing close relations with the East and sending their artists to execute com- missions at the court of Constantinople. Venetian markets were full of the rich brocades, silks, jewels, metal goods, and slaves of the Near East. Politically, Venice was sound; and, though auto- cratic, it was peaceful and free from the periodic feuds that were constantly rend- ing other Italian cities. Religiously, too, Venice was more independent. Safely remote from the papal power at Rome, it centered its religious life independ- ently about the veneration of its patron, Saint Mark.

Venetian life was the antithesis of Florentine life, for it was dominantly gay and luxurious. A fervid patriotism made strong demands upon the citizens for the glorification of the state. There were gorgeous pageants and ceremonies, both religious and civil, besides private banquets and pompous balls (see the paintings of Giovanni Bellini, Car- paccio, Tintoretto, Veronese) ; the rich- est costumes of stiff brocades, gold embroidery, and lavish lace and jewels. This extravagance and love of display was not conducive to intellectual pur- suits. A Humanist was shabbily treated and even starved in Venice, and a pro- foundly religious man found no sym- pathy there.

Gay and isolated as it was, however, its art did not remain uninfluenced by the great stirrings that were revolution- izing Italian art, though it clung longer than Florence to the Gothic style in painting, as it did in architecture. Up to the fifteenth century Venetian paint- ing was strongly Byzantine and Gothic,

[a] Mantegna. Crucifixion. 1459. Louvre, Paris. (Alinari)

•with the love of color a predominant for sheet after sheet in these notebooks quality, as we might expect in a city so shows drawings of architectural details,

closely connected with the East as well antique statues, centaurs, and satyrs,

as in one located in a naturally colorful A still greater influence upon Vene- setting. Nevertheless it received strong tian painting came from near-by Padua, enough influences from other Italian an old Roman colony which had always

centers, particularly from Florence, to had strong intellectual and religious

affect its art powerfully, though with- strains in its culture. Its pride in being

out changing its essentially Venetian the birthplace of the great Roman his-

character. torian Livy stimulated an enthusiasm

A new spirit first appears in the work for things classical; and its religious

of the so-called father of Venetian paint- fervor led it to respond easily to Saint

ing, Jacopo Bellini (died 1470). In his Bernard. Furthermore, Giotto had dec-

notebooks of drawings 1 we are struck orated the Arena Chapel about 1305;

by his fancy, and by his lively joy in Paolo Uccello in the first half of the

nature — trees, hills, flowers, animals fifteenth century was working in this

particularly, both real and fantastic. general locality; and in 1443 Donatello

Jacopo had been touched by the natu- came to decorate an altar and to make

ralistic movement, and also by the the equestrian statue of Gattamelata.

growing passion for classical subjects, Under such influences Padua became

• See Corrado Ricci, Jacof, B'Uim eimim f n important center. The northern Ital-

di disegtiij Florence * 1908* l&ns<, to t)C SUrCj ll&Q COXIiC tllldcr tfa .0

502

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[a] Mantegna. Ceiling of the Camera degli Sfiosi. Castello , Mantua. 14J4. (Anderson)

wave of naturalism but, unlike the Flor- entines, they did not “digest their facts into form.” Instead, they (Pisanello, for example)- took great delight in every newly discovered object, adding it to their decorative patterns without refer- ence to those fundamental structures and interrelations of parts which consti- tute the basis of Florentine painting.

The painter who was most influential in infusing the more descriptive north- ern Italian style with something of the stern realities of Florence was Andrea Mantegna (1431-1516), who as an ap- prentice in Padua came under the influ- ence of Donatello’s realism and the Paduan passion for the classical culture. In his Crucifixion (Fig. 501 a) we see both influences working. In the foreground on a rocky hill stand three crosses and

two groups of spectators, the Romans and the friends of Christ. The scene 1 as a whole is organized by two diagonal planes that recede from the two corners (an obvious exercise in perspective) and intersect behind the central cross, which thus receives additional emphasis to that given by the repeated verticals of the rocky hills, the soldier’s spear, and the spacious sky against which it is sil-

1 This small picture is part of the predella of Mantegna’s San Z en0 Altarpiece. The predella was the long, narrow panel that rested directly upon the altar and served as a decorative base for the altarpiece. It consisted usually of several small paintings related in subject matter to the large painting above. Many of these predellas were scattered when the altarpieces in course of time were dismembered. An example of an altarpiece that still retains its predella is the Annunciation of Fra Angelico at Cortona.

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[a] Mantegna. Gonzaga Family. A tablet in the room bears the following inscription: “To the illustrious Marquis Lodovico II, most worthy prince, invincible in the faith, and to his illustrious Lady Barbara of incomparable renown; their Andreas Mantegna of Padua has completed this humble work to their honor in the year 1474T Costello, Mantua. ( Alinari )

houetted. Mantegna’s passion for every- thing Roman here finds opportunity to use Roman types and costumes; and his almost harsh realism reveals itself in the figures on the crosses, though he has not entirely broken from the Gothic stress on line.

Mantegna’s penetrating observation and uncompromising fearlessness in re- cording facts is evident in the portraits painted on the walls of the castle at Mantua for the Gonzagas, whom he served for many years as court painter. In the Gonzaga Family (Fig. 503 a), the group is placed rather compactly in a shallow space between two pilasters and a very naturalistic curtain is drawn aside and twisted about a pillar as if to present a view to the spectator. At the left sits the Marchese Ludovico Gon- zaga, holding in his hand a letter just brought to him by his secretary, to

whom he turns as if giving some direc- tion. At the right the Marchesa sits rather stiffly, looking toward the Mar- chese as if with some concern as to the contents of the letter; a little girl holds up an apple toward her, without at- tracting her attention; at her left is a dwarf whose task was to furnish amuse- ment; grouped about are members of the family and court. Here is a quiet family scene, dignified and serious. The incident of the letter is a minor matter. What impresses the spectator is the ex- ceeding reality of all these people, a reality that brings out sternly and in- cisively the character of each one, with no idealizing. The Marchese is a lofty- minded man, a conscientious and suc- cessful ruler; his secretary, with his squinting eyes and huge nose, a clear- headed, shrewd, and capable assistant; the stately Marchesa, a thoroughgoing

504

RENAISSANCE ART

housewife and helpmeet. But while each portrait in itself is an astonishingly forceful characterization, as a whole the group lacks unifying formal relation- ships. Throughout the Camera degli Sfiosi> on whose walls the group was painted, Mantegna carried his realism to the point of breaking down the walls and substituting an almost complete illusion of space, especially in the ceiling (Fig. 502 a), where by boldly foreshortened figures standing on the ledge, by others peering over, and by a light sky with clouds he creates a perfect illusion of an opening to the sky, an illusionism that was to reach a climax in seventeenth- century baroque.

In his austere and searching study of form, Mantegna accomplished for northern Italy what Donatello and Ma- saccio did for Florence. Classical sculp- tures, examples of which he had in his own collection, served as his models, and though at times his passion for

archaeology dominated his art, he nev- ertheless brought a tonic influence to schools whose predominant interests lay in the splendor of color, the texture of fine stuffs, the pride of their city, or the mood of the sunset hour.

Another energetic realist sojourning in northern Italy was Antonello da Mes- sina (1430-1479), whose origin is un- certain but whose contact with northern European art is evident. His intensely real portraits have convincing mass, and his Saint Jerome in His Study is an un- usual example of interest in genre and interior-lighting effects. In addition he brought a great stimulation to the al- ready growing use of the oil technique, the capacities of which for securing rich color and surface effects he had learned from the Northerners.

While Mantegna was still in Padua, Jacopo Bellini and his family had trav- eled thither, with the result that Man- tegna married Jacopo’s daughter and

[a] Giovanni Bellini. Pieta. c. 1460. Brera, Milan. (Alinari)

PAINTING

through his friendship with the sons brought the stern realities of his art di- rectly into Venice. As Gentile Bellini’s interest lay, apart from his portraits, in following his father’s narrative turn, his expositions of Venetian pageants con- stitute his chief work.

This narrative interest finds a climax in the far more imaginative Vittore Carpaccio (1460-1522). For the staid groups of Gentile’ s pageants became full of lively action, as in the Saint Ur- sula Series (Venice), a vivid picture of contemporary Venetians whose cos- tumes of magnificent stuffs provided an excuse for the use of vivid color-spots organized into a vivacious design and flooded with sunshine. In the Dream of Saint Ursula (Fig. 5044) , how real is the space of the room and the interplay of

the outside and interior lighting which fills the room and with its varying values produces a feeling of the reality of the space! A very quiet design — a simple organization of vertical, hori- zontal, curve, and a sparse use of diag- onal — is in harmony with the mood of the scene.

To return to the Bellini family, it is Jacopo’s son Giovanni (1428-1516) who strikes out along new paths. In an early Pieta (Fig. 505 a) , a profound emotional quality combined with a terse, almost harsh drawing and cold color are evi- dent. A low-lying landscape and an ex- panse of sky marked by horizontal cloudlets form a quiet background for concentration upon the tragic grief ex- pressed by the three figures represented half-length in the foreground, just be-

5°6

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Giovanni Bellini. Allegory, possibly from a medieval poem, the Pilgrimage of the Soul, and representing in the foreground the earthly paradise, c. 1490. Uffizi, Florence. ( Alinari )

hirld a parapet. The Virgin, and Saint John are supporting the body of the dead Christ, whose head is turned toward the Virgin’s. The figures are brought together into a compact unity both formal and spiritual. Despite the angularity and the hard schematic lines and shadows, there is an intense search- ing for form and a relating of mass that is almost sculptural. Giovanni’s evolu- tion, however, was to be more Venetian, neither so profound in feeling nor so monumental in form as this early work. This truly Venetian quality becomes evident in the frankly gorgeous Frari Madonna (Fig. 507A). The composition suggests a scene in a church. In the center is the apse, decorated in gold brocade, where the Madonna sits on a lofty throne. On each side two saints, turning toward her, are standing in the aisles that surround the apse, separated from it by columns. Thus the archi- tectural unity suggested by the church building, and the psychological unity

of the two groups of saints with the Madonna, bring about a singleness of effect. The elaborate frame covered with typically Renaissance carvings, the rich chiaroscuro, the sumptuous stuffs, and the glowing color produce a picture of truly Venetian splendor.

An important tendency not only in Giovanni but in the Venetian school as a whole is seen in a small Allegory (Fig. 506A). In the foreground is a paved en- closure in the center of which are chil- dren playing around a tree; men and women stand about apparently without unity of action. The rest of the panel is filled with a landscape in which there is a mountain lake surrounded by rocky hills. Here is a grasp of out-of-door space, not met before, in which the foreground with the figures is tied natu- ralistically with the landscape, a unity attained not only by the all-incorporat- ing horizontal plane on which every object takes its place inevitably, by the movement of other planes and lines,

PAINTING

507

[a] Giovanni Bellini. Madonna . 1488. Church of the Frari, Venice . ( Alinan )

but particularly by the consistent scin- on a lofty throne, together with the

tillating light and by the enveloping flanking saints form a pyramidal group

atmosphere, which blurs the contours set in a rectangular framework of floor,

and unites all objects with its mellow wall, and throne; behind stretches a

tone. luminous landscape. Depth is expressed

Into the shop of Giovanni came two by parallel planes which recede quietly

youths who were to take Venetian from the foreground to the horizon. A

painting in new directions — Giorgione symmetrical surface pattern of trian-

and Titian. Giorgione (1478-1510) left gles and rectangles is given force by

but few paintings, for he died young. the dynamic diagonal of the banner.

His early Castelfranco Madonna reveals a frequently repeated and serving to

break with the triptych style of altar- connect the foreground and the back-

piece and a greater emphasis upon ground. Color too contributes to the

landscape. It also reflects a tranquil mood, for the warm rich reds are set

mood, a personal characteristic of this ofF by large areas of cool greens and

painter. The Madonna and the Child, blues.

5 °{

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Giorgione. Fete Champetre. Late. Louvre, Paris.

In the Tempest (other titles are given this enigmatical painting) in the Acad- emy of Venice, the figures are quite subordinate; they are integrated into a stormy landscape which seems to be the theme of the painting. Here an impres- sive space is carved out into which the eye is led, largely by light and dark, from the figure on the left to the distant clouds rent with lightning. In the Sleep- ing Venus (Dresden), figure and land- scape act as a foil to each other yet are tied together in an extraordinary unity. The broad tranquil planes and un- broken lines of the figure are accented by the richly colored crumpled cloth (a classic example of contrasting textures) and repeated in the gently sloping hills. By a winding road the eye is led into the landscape, is caught by the trees sil-

houetted against a luminous sky, and then led by the dark branch back to the head of the Venus.

In the Fete Champetre (Fig. 508A), the basic organization is much less obvious, less symmetrical, more subtle. The sur- face pattern consists of a quiet frame- work of verticals in the standing figure, the trees, and the houses; of horizontals in fountain, lute strings, background, and sky; of two sets of opposing diag- onals, repeated in arms, legs, contours of the hills, and many details; and of sweeping curves of foliage and fig- ures. These organizing lines, in con- trast to those in Botticelli’s Calumny (Fig. 489A) or Raphael’s School of Athens (Fig. 498A), are intuitively felt rather than clearly visible, for most of the edges are blurred by atmosphere or lost

PAINTING

509

[a] Titian . The Man with the Glove. Early. Louvre, Paris. Compare with Fig. 509 b for contrasting design motifs: sharp angles and diagonals versus curves and verticals.

in shadows. Yet the organization is as compelling as in the Calumny and the School of Athens , even if less evident at first glance and accomplished by dif- ferent means — chiefly by spots of color of varying hues and values. But this organization is by no means a surface pattern only. Here is a grasp of space and an organization in space, particu- larly emphasized by the great plane that wedges in diagonally from the front on which the main figures are placed, yet without any lack of unity with the middle and far distance. A warm red in the cloak of the lute-player marks the center of interest, about which radiate somewhat less warm and cool hues. An additional richness of effect results from the varying textures of Stuffs, flesh, stone, and foliage, but all are tied in a rich tonal unity by that pervasive “golden glow” which is a characteristic mark of Venetian paint- ing. Color is no longer used as a dec- orative element to enhance the unity

[b] Titian. Portrait of an Unknown Man. (“Young Englishman,” or “Duke of Nor- folk”).^ 1540-45. Pitti, Florence. (Alinari)

of the design, but functions as an in- separable element in the construction of form. This richness of color and sur- face texture, the soft blending of light and dark, and the enveloping blurring atmosphere result from the oil tech- nique, whose potentialities were pecul- iarly favorable for the expression of Venetian ideals.

One more element in the Fete Cham- petre is both Giorgionesque and Vene- tian — a profound sensitivity to an idyllic charm and a tranquil brooding mood. Among the Italians it was the Venetian school that first expressed a love for nature and a realization of its potentialities for the painter, though this school never reached the point of eliminating entirely some figure interest.

The youthful Titian (1 477-1 576) fol- lowed rather closely, at first, in the style of Giorgione, as is evident in the Concert (Pitti, Florence), which may have been a collaboration of the two. But Titian’s naturally robust, exuberant

5io

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Titian . Education of Cupid. Late. Borghese Gallery 3 Rome. {Anderson)

nature soon found more congenial ex- pression in a more vigorous subject mat- ter and more striking design, as in the Bacchus and Ariadne (National Gallery, London), the magnificent Assumption of the Virgin and Pesaro Madonna (Frari, Venice), and Ait Entombment (Louvre), though the means he employed were much the same as in the Fite Champetre — organization by rich color masses, light and dark, warm and cool, which harmonize, contrast, and merge into sumptuous effects perfectly in tune with the Venetian love of pomp, splendor, and worldliness. Such surfaces were se- cured by a long patient building-up, usually upon a tempera ground paint- ing, of layer upon layer of thin coats of pigment mixed with oil, some opaque, some transparent, with dryings and bleachings in the sun at every stage. The ground, in Titian often a warm red-brown, served to bind all the local colors into a dominant and consistent tonal unity.

It was not long, however, before Titian began restricting his hues and weaving them into more subtle organi- zations, as in some of his portraits. In the Young Englishman (Fig. 509B), so called though the identity of the sub- ject is unknown, we see a young man represented half-length, dressed in a black costume relieved only by the heavy gold chain and the delicate white ruffles at throat and wrists. His right hand holds his gloves; his left is held somewhat restlessly on his hip. With the greatest simplicity and reserve, Ti- tian reveals the pride and aristocracy of this young man, and his fine sensitive nature. The half-length figure admi- rably fills the square frame; the eye travels back and forth with the help of the chain and the contours of the arms from the face to the hands, which are as expressive of this young man’s char- acter as the face itself. In this portrait, and particularly in The Man with the Glove (Fig. 509A), a very restrained color

PAINTING

[a] Titian. Entombment. 1559. Prado, Madrid. (Anderson)

scheme with close values conveys a re- strained impression. Yet the figure exists in an ample spaciousness made real by the background^ which vibrates with infinitely subtle variations. The char- acterization in these portraits is accom- plished not only by expression of the face and by characteristic details of costume, pose, or accessory that con- tribute to the creation of an environ- ment which is as expressive of the individual as is the face itself; it is accomplished also by a basic design that says abstractly what features and details say concretely. For example, contrast the effect of the curves and the vertical of the Young Englishman with that of the sharp triangles in the Man with the Glove. For a group, one may take the Pope Paul III and His Grandsons (Naples), in which Titian’s penetrating

vision and intellectual grasp of indi- vidual character and of the psychology of a situation find inescapably clear ex- pression because of the perfect cohesion of every means available to the painter. Facial expression, pose, gesture, cos- tume, line, color — each is one element definitely related to every other in order to attain the objective.

In his later works, such as the Educa- tion of Cupid (Fig. 510A), the late Pietd (Venice Academy) , the late Entombment (Fig. 51 ia), and the Crowning of Thorns (Munich), the forms, which melt into a golden glow, are constructed of light and color with a use of pigment that foreshadows the great painters of Spain and northern Europe even into the days of Impressionism. 1

1 See Munro, Great Pictures of Europe, pp,

■ 170-71.

512

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Tintoretto. Last Supper. 1594. San Giorgio Maggiore, Venice y ( Anderson )

As distinction and poise, even in movement, and elegance and grace, even in tragedy, were a manifestation of Titian’s individuality, so dramatic force, impetuous movement, and vivid contrasts of color reflect the vehement Tintoretto 1 (1518-1594) — both, how- ever, true Venetians. In the Last Supper (Fig. 51 2 a), dramatic contrasts of light and dark control a design that is organ- ized with a fully three-dimensional ex- pression of deep space. The eye is guided by these startling high lights

1 Tintoretto’s impetuosity and his habit ol working, at times, directly upon the canvas with- out preliminary sketches is well illustrated by Vasari’s tale of the decoration of the ceiling of the Scuola di San Rocco. This confraternity had commissioned three painters, Tintoretto among them, to present competitive designs for the ceiling. When the council assembled to judge of the design and award the commission, they found that Tintoretto had painted his directly on a full-sized canvas and already had it put into place, saying that that was his way of doing it and if they did not wish to recompense him he would make them a gift of the painting.

along an imaginary line of direction from the two figures in the left-hand lower corner across the foreground and back to the group of angels in the back- ground; the same distance into space is reached more directly by the long table, In the Miracle of Saint Mark (Fig. 51 3A) the same energetic movement is sub- ordinate to a great S-curve swinging backward and forward in space through the downward sweeping figures of Saint Mark, the executioner, and the slave; and another movement in depth swings from the judge on the right back through the group of spectators and forward to the lofty figures on the left. Along the entire course of these single controlling rhythms the eye is guided by light and dark spots of rich warm color, accented by the cooler hues of the quiet background, but all united tonally. Tintoretto’s flashes of light, brushed in with apparent spontaneity and disregard for detail, were not hap- hazard, but often the result of many

PAINTING

[a] Tintoretto. Miracle of St. Mark. 1548. Academy , Venice.

trials of a design and of single figures, ternal organization and little accent

as is seen in his drawings in the British upon the focal point. As a unit, how-

Museum. And in his more direct method ever, this movement is quite under the

of painting he is closer to the modern control of the dominant rhythm of the

school than any of the other Italians. architectural framework. The surface

Truly Venetian in his expression of texture in Veronese’s canvases is subtly

worldly pageantry, whether the subject varied, and his color is less warm than

was sacred or secular, and in his facility Titian’s and Tintoretto’s, with more

in handling pigment to create a mag- blue, less red, and less suffusion of warm

nificent surface, was Veronese (1528- golden tonality. A cool, more diffused

1588). The narrative and descriptive luminosity and less contrast between

painting of Carpaccio, naively joyous light and dark stress the decorative as-

and clearly organized, became in Vero- pect.

nese a colossally grandiose expression While Titian and Tintoretto were of Venice’s sophisticated pageantry. still youths, a painter who lived in com- Into an imposing architectural frame- parative isolation in and around Parma, work, as in the Feast in the House of Levi Correggio (1494-1534), was painting

(Fig. 515A), he placed animated groups altarpieces of a certain lyric, charm —

of many figures all in movement, thus when not too sweet and sentimental — creating an impression of constant vi- and was experimenting in artificial and bration of spots of color with little in- concentrated lighting, as in the Holy

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Correggio. Assump- tion. 1520-24. Dome of S. Giovanni Evangelista , Parma. ( Alinari )

Night, or in the mythological panels, such as the Danae (Rome) — creating a delicate kind of painting, not of rich surface textures like those of most of the Venetians, but of almost imper- ceptible modulations of light, filled with half- tints and of a cool silvery tonality. In the Assumption (Fig. 5 1 4A) in the dome of the Parma Cathedral, one is carried from the moderate movement in the pendentives, where saints and Church Fathers with angels are seated upon clouds, by way of a balustrade to which vigorous upward-gazing Apostles cling, into a whirling ecstatic flight of innu- merable figures, an illusion of swift movement into infinite heights quite regardless of the material limitations of the stone dome. This illusion Cor- reggio created partly by foreshortened figures but largely by the emotional force of a swirl of radiant light and color.

In these Parma frescoes, one is carried back to the boldly foreshortened fig- ures and the illusionistic effect of Man-

tegna’s Camera degli Sposi ( Fig. 502 a). In fact in all Correggio’s work there are evidences of Michelangelo’s drawing, of Raphael’s types sentimentalized, of Leonardo’s chiaroscuro, and of Titian’s design and color, though the color is cooler.

Such eclecticism normally follows a period of such masters as those produced in Florence, Rome, and Venice in the sixteenth century. The Eclectics, or Mannerists, were centered at the art school which they established at Bo- logna. They attempted to combine into a perfect art the best qualities of the great masters — the drawing of Michel- angelo, the noble types and composi- tion of Raphael, the color of Titian, and the chiaroscuro of Correggio. Such a method, which copies external ap- pearance and fails to grasp fundamental principles, is destined to become pedan- tic, or rhetorical, or melodramatic — as were many of the paintings of the Bolognese, particularly those of the Car- racci.

PAINTING

[a] Veronese. Feast in the House of Levi. 15J3. Academy , Venice. ( Anderson )

The other tendency was that of the realists, chief of whom was Caravaggio (1569-1608), who, in protest against the weakness of the Mannerists, selected his types from the lowest classes, and painted figures and scenes with a real- ism that at times approaches the photo- graphic. His chiaroscuro, based upon that of Correggio in such a painting as the Holy Nighty consists of picking out a detail here and there with a strong and concentrated lighting and sinking all else into shadow. 1

Chiaroscuro we have seen developing in Italian painting from Giotto, who, though he used the shadow for model- ing, still expressed both mass and space chiefly by line. The early fifteenth-cen- tury painters of Florence — Masaccio, Fra Angelico, Baldovinetti, and Pol- laiuolo — used it moderately to express the structure and the volume of the figure in space, so that their work, whether in fresco or in tempera, had an even tonality without strong contrasts of light and shade. This was due partly to the medium and partly to interest in the structural line, for the Florentines

1 Painters who used this violent chiaroscuro are sometimes referred to as the Tenebrists, the shadow-painters.

were principally draftsmen. Leonardo, with the help of the oil technique, car- ried contrasting light and dark with soft transitions much farther in his at- tempt to secure a high-relief-like qual- ity. Giorgione, Titian, and Tintoretto subordinated line and organized by light and dark color-masses in which figures and objects were constructed of light and color. Visible line hardly exists, though organizing lines of direc- tion are clearly felt; edges are blurred and all figures are united by an en- veloping atmosphere of dominant tonal- ity. Michelangelo’s remark that Titian could not draw, which might well have elicited the retort that Michelangelo could not paint, simply reflects a dif- ferent way of seeing, feeling, and ex- pressing form. To Michelangelo, the figure was an organic structure whose volumes arouse tactile sensations and can best be expressed by lines which indicate the movement of planes de- fining these volumes. To Titian, the figure was a mass perceived by light, which is color, and enveloped by at- ’ mosphere. 2 .

2 For an exposition of these contrasting atti- tudes towards form see Heinrich Wolfflin, Principles of Art History, Holt, 193a.

5I 6 renaissance art

SUMMARY

Though architecture and sculpture, working in unison, constituted the dominant art of the Middle Ages, paint- ing began, even toward the end of the medieval era, to usurp the primacy and held it for centuries. Like sculpture, painting was intimately allied with architecture. Its function was largely to decorate walls and produce altar- pieces. For the former it employed the fresco technique; for the latter, the tempera until the emergence, in the second half of the fifteenth century, of an oil medium. Its content at first was chiefly religious, for such a content was commissioned by the Church, the nobles, and the guilds, all of whom were art patrons of the time. It then became increasingly secular, as did the whole cultural fabric.

Of the Italian painters of the thir- teenth and fourteenth centuries, all of whom were working primarily in the Byzantine tradition, the Sienese re- mained rooted in that style, which they brought, with some modification be- cause of the general naturalistic move- ment, to a climax in Italy — an art of exquisite surface patterns with suavely flowing calligraphic lines and areas of vivid color and gold; an art whose forms were imaginatively and conven- tionally constructed with but little re- gard for a visual perception of actuality. The Florentines, on the contrary, set themselves to the task of investigating the world of visual perception — the figure itself, its place in space, and spatial relations — not for the purpose of providing a perfect copy of man and his world but for the expression of the essential, monumental aspects of form and of the outward manifestation, through form, of generic or abstract conceptions. This last was the motiva- tion of the fifteenth century. It was an art of the draftsman, with color largely

a decorative adjunct, for drawing was the most suitable means of expressing the scientific facts of anatomy and per- spective that were the passion of the century. Yet this enthusiasm did not overwhelm esthetic requirements, for the Florentine always “digested his facts into form.” By the sixteenth century he had attained an accomplished and in- dividually diversified style of great dig- nity and of great mastery over the figure itself, over spatial relations, and over the expression, through them, of the spiritually significant. The Venetians, differing from the Florentines because of different surroundings and attitudes, were worldly in their wealth and were frankly given to sumptuous magnifi- cence and gorgeous pageantry. Such an impression the painters were able to create by complex designs in deep space in which the chief organizing means were the richest colors tied together by an all-embracing glowing light, a use of pigment made possible through the development of oil as a medium. Of all the Italians, the Venetians were most truly painters, not only in their con- struction of figures from color and light but particularly in their realization of the potentialities of pigment for creat- ing surfaces that in color and texture have a distinctly emotional appeal in themselves, wholly without regard to the subject matter. Another contribu- tion of the Venetians, seen early in their idyllic landscape backgrounds, was a revelation of nature; and though they never eliminated the figure interest, they opened up the great possibilities of nature as material for the painter.

As a result of the impact of the power- ful personalities of the sixteenth century, an eclectic style arose in Bologna, in protest to which a school of realists, centered in Naples, took their subject matter frequently from the everyday life of the people and painted it in somber colors with violent chiaroscuro.

PAINTING

5i7

1200 130

I I

ITALO-BYZANTINE

I SIMONE MA RTINI |

SIENA AMBROG IO LORENZETTI

SASSETTA

15OO

1 600

1700

Basically Byzantine; surface pattern with calligraphic line and areas of vivid color and gold; tempera and fresco techniques; religious subject matter.

GAVALLINI (R OME) CIMABUE I

FLORENCE

Trend toward naturalism based on visual perception; scientific study of the figure and of spatial relations; color a decorative adjunct; tempera and fresco techniques, with experi- ments in oil; subject matter religi- ous and secular, largely classical themes and portraits.

[MAS ACCIO PAOLO UCCEL LO |

ANDREA DEL CASTAGNO BALDOVINET ^TI

ANTONIO POLLAIUOLO

— ,

VERROCC HIO

PIERO DELL A FRANCESCA SIGNORELLI FRA ANGELICO

FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

BOTTICELLI LEONARDO

MICHELANGELO RAPHAE L ANDREA DEL SARTO

BYZANTINE-GOTHIC

[JACOPO BELLINI!

NORTHERN ITALY

Long survival of Byzantine and Gothic styles, followed by the de- velopment of three-dimensional organization in deep space; sumptu- ous; rich in color and texture; tem- pera-oil and indirect oil techniques; subjects increasingly secular; por- traits important; beginning of land- scape.

ANTONELLO DA MESSINA

■ [

CARPACCIO 1

GIOVANNI BELL INI

GIORG IONE

TITIAN

j TINTORETTO CORREGGIO

VERONESE

BOLOGNA, ROME, NAPLES ■ 1 ' 1

Eclecticism; realism based on every- day life; somber color and violent chiaroscuro.

13°°

THE CARRACCI

p-

CARAVAGGIO

Renaissance Painting in Italy

400 1500 1 boo

1700

RENAISSANCE ART

5 l8

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bercken, Erich von der, and Mayer, August L.j Jacopo Tintoretto, Munich, 1923 Berenson, Bernhard, The Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance, Putnam, 1897

The Drawings of the Florentine

Painters, 3 vols., University of Chicago Press, 1 938

The Florentine Painters of the

Renaissance, 3d ed., Putnam, 1909

Italian Painters of the Renaissance ,

Oxford University Press, 1 932

Italian Pictures of the Renaissance,

Oxford University Press, 1932

The North Italian Painters of the

Renaissance, Putnam, 1907 — — - — — The Venetian Painters of the Ren-

aissance, 3d ed., Putnam, 1897 Bettini, Sergio, Botticelli, Bergamo, 1942 Boeck, Wilhelm, Paolo Uccello, Berlin, 1 939 Borenius, Tancred, Florentine Frescoes, Nelson, 1930

Brown, A. V. V., and Rankin, William, A Short.

History of Italian Painting, Dutton, 1914 Brown, G. B., The Fine Arts, Scribner, 1927 Byron, Robert, and Talbot Rice, David, The Birth of Western Painting, Knopf, 1931 Cairns, Huntington, and Walker, John, eds.. Masterpieces of Painting from the National Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., Random House, 1944 Carra, Carlo, Giotto, La Cappella degli Scrovegni, Milan, 1945

Cecchi, Emilio, Sienese Painters of the Trecento, tr. by Leonard Penlock, Warne, 1931 Cennini, Cennino, The Book of the Art of Cennino Cennini, tr. by G. J. Herringham, London, 1922

Clark, Kenneth M., Leonardo da Vinci, Mac- millan, 1939

Coletti, Luigi, II Tintoretto, Bergamo, 1944 Conway, Sir Martin, Giorgione, London, 1929 Crowe, Sir J. A., and Cavalcaselle, G. B., History of Painting in North Italy, ed. by Tancred Borenius, new ed., 3 vols., Scribner, 1912

New History of Painting in Italy,

ed. by Edward Hutton, 3 vols., Dutton, 1908-09

Cruttwell, Maud, Antonio Pollaiuolo, Scribner, 1907

De Tolnay, Charles, Michelangelo, Vol. I, “The Youth of Michelangelo,” 1943, Vol. II, “The Sistine Ceiling,” 1945, Princeton University Press

Douglas, Langton, Fra Angelico, 2d ed. rev., Macmillan, 1902

A History of Siena, Dutton, 1903

Edgell, G. H., A History of Sienese Painting, Dial Press, 1932,

Faure, Gabriel, Wanderings in Italy, Houghton Mifflin, 1919

Fiocco, Giuseppe, Mantegna, Milan, 1937 Fry, Roger E., Giovanni Bellini, Longmans, 1901

Vision and Design, Bretano’s, 1 924

Gamba, Carlo, Botticelli, Milan, 1936

Giovanni Bellini, Milan, 1937

ed.. La Pittura di Michelangiolo,

Novara, 1943

Gengaro, Maria L., II Beato Angelico a San Marco, Bergamo, 1944

Rafaello, la Stanza della Segnatura,

Bergamo, 1944

Goldscheider, Ludwig, ed., Leonardo da Vinci, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1943

ed., The Paintings of Michelangelo,

Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1940 Graber, Hans, Piero della Francesca, Basel. 1922

Gronau, Georg, Titian , tr. by A. M. Todd, Scribner, 1904

Hagen, Oskar F. L., Art Epochs and Their Leaders, Scribner, 1927

Hollanda, Francisco de, Four Dialogues on Painting, tr. by A. F. G, Bell, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1928

Holmes, Sir C. J., Raphael and the Modern Use of the Classical Tradition, Dutton, 1933 Holroyd, Sir Charles, Michael Angelo Buonarroti, Scribner, 1904

Jameson, A. B. M., Sacred and Legendary Art, 2 vols. , Houghton Mifflin, 1911 Konody, P. G., and Wilenski, R. H., Italian Painting, Nelson, 1929

Leonardo da Vinci, The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, tr. by Edward MacCurdy, 2 vols., Reynal and Hitchcock, 1938 The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi, tr. by Thomas Okey, Peter Pauper Press, 1943 Longhi, Roberto, Piero della Francesca, tr. by Leonard Penlock, Warne, 1930 MacCurdy, Edward, Leonardo da Vinci: The Artist, London, 1936

Marangoni, Matteo, Gli Affreschi di Giotto nella Cappella degli Scrovegni, Bergamo, 1943 Marie, Raimond van. The Development of the Italian Schools of Painting, Vols. I-XIX, The Hague, 1923-39

Mather, Frank J., Jr., A History of Italian Painting, Holt, 1923

Middddorf, Ulrich A., Raphael’s Drawings, H. Bittner, 1945

Morassi, Antonio, Tiepolo, Bergamo, 1943 Moschini, Vittorio, Gli Affreschi del Mantegna agli Eremitani di Padova, Bergamo, 1 944 Munro, Thomas, Great Pictures of Europe, Coward-McCann, 1930

Muratoff, Paul, Fra Angelico, tr. by E. Law- Gisiko, Warne, 1930

PAINTING 519

Nebbia, Ugo, Tintoretto, la scuola di San Rocco, Schmeckebier, Laurence, A Handbook of Italian Bergamo, 1944 Renaissance Paint ins. Putnam, 1028

Neilson, Katharine B., Filippino Lippi, Harvard University Press, 1938

Offner, Richard, Italian Primitives at Yale University, Yale University Press, 1927 Ortolani, Sergio, Rafaello, 2d, ed., Bergamo, 1945 Paintings and Sculpture from the Kress Collection , National Gallery of Art, Smithsonian In- stitution, Washington, D.C., 1945 Pallucchini, Rodolfo, Gli Affreschi di Giambattista e Giandomenico Tiepolo alia Villa Valmarana di Vicenza, Bergamo, 1945

. — — — — Veronese, Bergamo, 1943

Pater, Walter, The Renaissance: Modern Library, Boni & Liveright, 1919

Phillips, Duncan, The Leadership of Giorgione, American Federation of Arts, 1937 Phillips, E. M., Tintoretto, London, xgn Pope-Hennessy, John, Sassetta, London, 1939 Popham, Arthur E., The Drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, Reynal & Hitchcock, 1945 Ricci, Corrado, Correggio, Warne, 1930

— — Art in Northern Italy, Scribner,

19x1

. . . /; . ■ -■ ■■ - ' - North Italian Painting of the Cin- quecento, Harcourt, Brace, 1929 Richter, George M., Andrea dal Castagno, Uni- versity of Chicago Press, 1943 Rinaldis, Aldo de, Neapolitan Painting of the Seicento, Harcourt, Brace, 1929 Rolland, Romain, Michelangelo, tr. by Frederick Street, 4th ed., Duffield, 1927 Ruslan, John, Stones of Venice, 3 vols., Estes, 19x3 Sabatier, Paul, Life of Saint Francis of Assisi, tr. by L. S. Houghton, Scribner, 1927 Salmi, Mario, Paolo Uccello, Andrea del Castagno, Domenico Veneziano, Milan, 1938

Piero della Francesca, gli Affreschi

di San Francesco in Arezzo, Bergamo, 1944 Scharf, Alfred, Filippino Lippi, Vienna, 1935

Siren, Osvald, Giotto and Some of His Followers, tr. by Frederick Schenck, 2 vols., Harvard University Press, 1917

Leonardo da Vinci, the Artist and the

Man, Yale University Press, 1916 Strutt, E. C., Fra Filippo Lippi, Macmillan, 1906 Taylor, H. O., The Mediaeval Mind, 4th ed.,

2 vols., Macmillan, 1925 Taylor, R. A., Leonardo the Florentine, new ed., Harper, 1930

Tietze, Hans, Titian, Paintings and Drawings , Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1937

r- — and Tietze-Conrat, Erika, The

Drawings of the Venetian Painters in the 15th and 16th Centuries, Augustin, 1944 Toesca, Pietro, Florentine Painting of the Trecento, Harcourt, Brace, 1929

Venturi, Adolfo, North Italian Painting of the Quattrocento, 2 vols., Harcourt, Brace, 1931

— — A Short History of Italian Art, tr. by

Edward Hutton, Macmillan, 1926 Venturi, Lionello, Botticelli, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1937

Voss, H. G. A., Die Malerei derSpdtrenaissance in Rom und Floretiz, 2 vols., Berlin, 1920 Weigelt, Curt H., Sienese Painting of the Trecento, Harcourt, Brace, 1930

Wolfflin, Heinrich, The Art of the Italian Ren* aissance, new rev. ed., Putnam, 1913

— - Principles of Art History, tr. by

M. D. Hottinger, Holt, 193a Yashiro, Yukio, Sandro Botticelli, 3 vols., Medici Society, Boston, 1925

- — - — Sandro Botticelli and the Florentine

Renaissance, rev. ed., Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1929

See also the background books of the bibli- ography on p. 467 and the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Orazio Fontana. Majolica Plate. D. io\ in. 16th cent. Metropol- itan Museum of ArtyNea) York City. ( Metropolitan Museum)

METALWORK, CERAMICS, TEXTILES, AND BOOKS

A STRIKING characteristic of the JLx. Renaissance artist was his versa- tility, the result of an apprenticeship system of education in a shop where many kinds of work were always going on. For the demands upon an artist’s shop were various. All through the Middle Ages fine vessels and books were made of the most precious material for the Church: altar furniture, jeweled regalia for the clergy, and tapestries to decorate the cathedral. This need still continued; and to it were added the needs of wealthy nobles and merchants as secular life became more important

and the mode of living more luxu- rious and ostentatious. Carvings, tapes- tries, and painted decorations were in demand for the palaces, as well as more elaborate furniture and gold and silver plate, and fine cloths, velvets, and bro- cades for costumes, and jewelry, and fine armor. Books in particular, with the widening of knowledge, scientific research, and passion for the literature of Greece and Rome, assumed an im- portance unknown before. As most of these things came from some bottega , it is easily seen that the artist must be versatile; and as public taste was of a

METALWORK, CERAMICS, TEXTILES, AND BOOKS 521

[a] Benvenuto Cellini. Saltcellar. Of gold with chasing and enamel; the base is of black ebony with figures in gold. 1343. Vienna.

high order, he must produce works of quality both in design and in technique.

METALWORK

Metal — bronze, iron, gold, silver — was an important medium, and skill in casting, 1 molding, chasing, and engrav- ing was essential. The use of iron in lanterns and grilles, and of bronze in sculpture, we have already seen. Among smaller objects in bronze the commemo- rative medal became important as the individualistic strain manifested itself in portraiture. It reached a climax in the work of Antonio Pisano, known as Pisanello (about 1 395-1 455) , in the medals of Leonello d’Este, Marquis of Ferrara.

The goldsmith was important. In fact it was as a goldsmith that many a painter and sculptor began his career. The processes used were substantially

1 For an account of bronze-casting as prac- ticed by the Renaissance sculptors, see Ben- venuto Cellini’s dramatic account of how he cast his Perseus (Loggia de* Lanzi, Florence) in his Autobiography, tr. by J. A. Symonds, Modern Library, 1927, pp. 413 ff.

the same as those employed in the Middle Ages — repousse, chasing, jewel- setting, and enameling,* and the charac- ter of the work in the early Renaissance had the same quality of sound design, with decoration subordinate and con- tributory, as in the best medieval work. But increasing luxury and desire for display in all aspects of life are reflected in the changed taste seen in the late Renaissance. Of this period, the famous bronze-worker and goldsmith Benve- nuto Cellini (1500-1571) is typical, and the saltcellar (Fig. 521 a) with figures representing the Sea and the Land that he made for Francis I well illustrates his work. 2 There is no question about the superb technical skill here shown, the great ease and facility in handling the medium and in finishing it. But who would conceive of this exquisite bit of work as a container for salt and pepper? To delight with accomplished handling of materials and to surprise with in- genious motifs seem to have been the aim of the artist. Thus Benvenuto as well as Michelangelo foreshadows the baroque.

2 See the artist’s own description, Ibid., p. 347.

RENAISSANCE ART

CERAMICS

The potter and the weaver contrib- uted to the rich colorfulness of the age, the potter with his majolica, 1 which is earthenware covered with a whitish opaque glaze on which the decoration is painted. The colors used were intense, and their effect was heightened by a rich transparent overglaze and by a luster of amazing brilliancy. A particu- larly fine majolica was made in the sixteenth century at Urbino, exempli- fied by a plate by Orazio Fontana (Fig. 52 oa), in which borders with winged lions, birds, and half-human figures combined with garlands and scrolls sur- round a central medallion containing a mythological scene closely related in style to the paintings of Raphael. If one questions the use of three- dimensional painting as ceramic deco- ration, in the border designs at least he will find the fanciful motifs used as decorative color-units against the creamy glaze.

TEXTILES

From the weaver’s shop came the fine fabrics — silks, velvets, brocades, tap- estries — which were in such demand, as the paintings show, 2 for costumes, both ecclesiastical and secular, and for hangings. We have seen how Persia had been a center for weaving, especially of fine silks; how Justinian introduced the craft into Europe; and how the Mu- hammadans became expert weavers. In their conquests westward the Muslim brought the craft with them to Spain,

1 The name is probably derived from Ma- jorca, one of the Balearic Islands, a calling-place of the ships that brought to Italy the glazed and lustered wares of Spain.

2 See particularly the paintings of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Benozzo Gozzoli, the Bellini, Crivelli, Titian, and in fact most of the Venetian painters, whose works reveal so clearly the love of the Venetians for fine stuffs.

to Sicily, and thence to Italy, where luxuriant stuffs were woven which in pattern, color, and motifs were entirely of the tradition of the Near East. In the fifteenth century, however, the Italian weavers, in accordance with the spirit of their times, broke with this old tradi- tion, and introduced into their fabrics a pomegranate motif (Fig. 523A) used with many variations. The richness of color and vigor of pattern, in their vel- vets and brocades in particular, are in harmony with Renaissance art as a whole.

BOOKS

In the field of bookmaking, the Ital- ians made valuable contributions. We have been following the evolution of the book from the long rolls of Egyp- tians, Greeks, and Romans to the codex, which became in the early Christian era very sumptuous in its writing, decora- tion, and binding, and throughout the Middle Ages remained a work in whose making a whole group of artists collabo- rated. Probably the highest expression of the Italian scribes and illuminators is seen in the great choir books that reached their culmination in the late fifteenth century. The most character- istic part of their decoration is the initial letter, painted in bright colors with white tracery, foliate ornament, and gold. Frequently because of its large size it was historiated — that is, adorned with a miniature within the form of the letter. Many of these were painted by well-known artists, as was the Aeolus (Fig. 523B) . Within the letter and won- derfully adapted to the shape is a repre- sentation of Aeolus sweeping forward with all the energy of the north wind. The use of a classical subject is interest- ing here, as is the spontaneous, naive conception so characteristic of the fif- teenth-century attitude toward Greek and Roman subjects. The rich foliate

METALWORK, CERAMICS, TEXTILES, AND BOOKS 523

[a] Brocaded Velvet. Ital- [b] Liberate da Verona. Aeolus. Historiated initial from ian. 15th cent. Metropolitan a choir book. Piccolomini Library, Siena. {Alinari)

Museum of Art, New York.

{Metropolitan Museum)

decoration surrounding the initial is long used for fine books. What we

typical of Italian work, which often be- know is that in the decade from about

came too heavy and florid to have the 1450 to 1460 printing with movable

perfectly decorative quality of the type became established at Mainz, and

French manuscripts. by the end of the fifteenth century was

Meanwhile, one of the most far-reach- being practiced in all the countries of

ing inventions was about to bring to an western Europe. The early books (in-

end the handmade book: printing, an cunabula) closely resembled the manu- invention not of one man or at one scripts of the period in composition, place, but the growth of centuries. Some form of letters, and decoration. Indeed

of the underlying practices, such as printing was used for the small letters

using a stamp for initial letters, had only; the initials and the decorations

long been known. Paper was becoming were added in color by hand after the common in the fourteenth century, printing was done, so that the general

making inexpensive books possible, effect of the page was the same as that

though vellum and parchment were of the manuscript.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Page from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, or Strife of Love in a Dream. Printed by Aldus at the Aldine Press in Venice. 1499.

For nearly a century the printed book very closely followed the tradition of the manuscript. It had no title page, no chapter heading, no running title, no pagination. The early printed books of Italy show clearly the Italian sensitive- ness for unity of design, which appears especially in the small pamphlets issued at Florence, known as rappresentazioni because they reproduced the plays given on saints’ days. In place of a title page, they had a woodcut with the representa- tion of an angel as a herald to announce the play, and perhaps a characteristic scene from the life of the saint who was being celebrated. These Florentine books are among the most successfully illustrated books ever made, because the illustration illustrates and at the

same time harmonizes with the letter- , press. Its purpose was to elucidate the text or to emphasize some point by visualization, and not to call attention away from the text to itself as an end. The Florentine realized that to keep this unity his illustration must harmo- nize with the printing, and that nothing could accomplish this end so adequately as purely linear work. The Hypneroto- machia Poliphili (Fig. 524A) illustrates these practices. Its high quality does not lie in the content of the text, which is dull and long-drawn-out, nor in the woodcuts alone, but in the complete and satisfying unity of letterpress, mar- gins, type, and illustrations, a unity as important in bookmaking as it is in picture-making, unless one looks upon a book merely for its content and not as a work of art. As in the Florentine pamphlet, so in the Hypnerotomachia the linear quality of the woodcut adds vari- ety to the printed page yet maintains the unity of the page composition.

SUMMARY

Versatility in many arts rather than specialization in one characterized the artists of the Renaissance. All were trained in several crafts and all joined in making the furnishings for churches and palaces; costumes; and the equip- ment for the pageants which were char- acteristic of Renaissance life. Ironwork and goldwork; majolica, related to the lusterware of Spain; tapestries designed by painters but sent to northern Europe for weaving; fine velvets and brocades which show the influence of Muslim weavers in Sicily — all these reveal the richness of Renaissance art. Finally, a landmark in the course of modern civili- zation was the coming of the printed book, which in the hands of the Floren- tine and Venetian printers was a model of unity of all the elements that enter into the art of bookmaking.

METALWORK, CERAMICS, TEXTILES, AND BOOKS 525

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ballardini, Gaetano, Corpus della maialica Italiana, 2 vols., Rome, 1933, 1938 Cellini, Benvenuto, Autobiography, tr. by J. A.

Symonds, Modem Library, 1927 Ferrari, Giulio, II Ferro nelV arte Italiana, Qd ed., Weyhe

Gardner, J. Starkie, Ironwork, rev. and enl. by W. W. Watts, 2 pts., London, 1930: Pt. II Herbert, John A., Illuminated Manuscripts, Put- nam, 1911

Kristeller, Paul, Early Florentine Woodcuts, Lon- don, 1897

Orcutt, William D., The Book in Italy during the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, Harper, 1 928 Podreider, Fanny, Storia dei tessuti dearie in Italia ( secoli XII-XVIII), Bergamo, 1928 Pollard, Alfred W., Early Illustrated Books, Em- pire State Book Company, 1927 Rackham, Bernard, Catalogue of Italian maiolica, 2 vols., Victoria and Albert Museum, Lon- don, 1940

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

29

BAROQUE ART

baroque art

(seventeenth century)

BAROQUE is an excellent example of the necessity for looking at the culture that is responsible for a style of art and the reasons for the character of that culture. The coming of the seven- teenth century marked the decline of the Renaissance in Italy, as the six- teenth marked its maturity and the fif- teenth its youth. Hence one expects to find complexity and contradiction, tech- nical virtuosity, and theatrical realism. A secular life centered in display found its needed stimulation in a grandilo- quence that surprised and overwhelmed the senses. A complacent, decadent Church, threatened with disintegration by the progress of the Reformation in northern Europe, aroused itself into re- form through the Counter-Reformation, and saw in the pomp and circumstance of the rising baroque style a type of ex- pression that could overawe with splen- dor. This trend was confirmed by the Jesuits, recently established in Spain, whose influence was powerful not only in missionary endeavor but also in hold- ing adherents loyal in the face of power-

ful heresies. Hence the motivation of both secular and religious interests was to feed strained emotionalism with grandiloquent brilliance. One is not surprised to find Italian opera develop- ing rapidly, and the aria, with much florid embroidery, the vogue of the day; or the rise of the viol family among instruments, culminating at Cremona in the creations of the Stradivarius family.

Yet the seventeenth century was not completely unified in this objective. Its complexity admitted many contradic- tory elements, such as the emergence of the truly scientific spirit. For, stimu- lated by the Renaissance ideal of com- plete objectivity, men’s minds turned from magic and the authority of the Church to independent observation. On the one hand the Church warmly re- asserted the mystery of the Christian faith; on the other, Descartes with his Cogito , ergo sum displaced medieval faith with reason. It was the century of Galileo and Francis Bacon; of the in- vention of the telescope, the microscope,

[a] Santa Maria della Salute . Venice. 1631-82. {Alinari)

and the thermometer; of the discovery of the circulation of the blood. In other words, as the cycle of the Renaissance declines, the modern scientific age is being born.

ARCHITECTURE

Rome was the fountainhead of the baroque style, partly because of the reli- gious situation in the city of the Mother Church and partly because the seeds of the style, sown in the sixteenth century, particularly in the work of Michelangelo, naturally grew quickly in native soil. But it spread rapidly to Naples and to northern cities, especially Venice, Genoa, Turin, barely touching, however, that stronghold of the early Renaissance, Florence. Great scale, rest- less movement, organization in depth, Michelangelo had held within bounds. With him relationships in all the parts were clear and definite. With the ba-

roque artists, movement became an end in itself. In a typically baroque church it is not the clear precise relationship of every part that the artist strives to set forth, but the total effect of many parts half-seen, moving, incoherent, provided the total effect is a “spectacle of never-ending movement 55 — not sta- bility but flux.

Because of the powerful religious mo- tivation it was a great age of church building and remodeling. 1 The elonga- tion of the nave of St. Peter’s and the addition of the present facade and of the colonnades which sweep around the piazza are thoroughly baroque in their scale and dramatic quality. The colon- nades introduce a curving motif which finds repetition in the dome and diversi- fication in the rectilinear character of the facade. Note how the two motifs are united by the straightening of the colon- nades as they approach the facade. The scale of the piazza and the colonnades is colossal, and prepares one for the superhuman scale of the interior, to which all detail is tuned. Gigantic pilas- ters support broken cornices, as on the exterior; a colossal baldachino with huge twisted columns rises above the high altar; colored marbles, painted and gilded stucco reliefs, and richly gilded coffers adorn all the available space. When to these are added the colorful pageantry and the music of the religious festivals, the effect is over- whelmingly magnificent.

The fagades of many of the baroque churches in Rome, such as San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane by Francesco Borro- mini (1599-1667) and Santa Maria della Pace by Pietro da Cortona (1596-1669), in general reveal an organization in

1 This practice accounts for the baroque facade of St. John Lateran and of other early basilicas and for the refurbishing of many in- teriors, some of which are, fortunately, being restored. Santa Maria in Cosmedin (Fig. 252A) is one such case.

[a] Andrea del Pozzo. St. Ignatius Carried into Paradise, c. 1685. Sanf Ignazio, Rome . (Anderson)

several planes so that there runs through it an advancing and retreating move- ment. 1 Various architectural forms — columns, pilasters, pediments, moldings — are used to carry movement laterally, vertically, and in depth — a continuous flowing movement with occasional stac- cato accents, as in a broken or repeated pediment.

The central type of church with a dome still prevailed. Its external pos- sibilities for expressing solidity and com- pactness of mass are well seen in Santa Maria della Salute in Venice (Fig. 5264) , because of its open site at the head of the Grand Canal. It is octagonal in plan, with a great central dome and a

1 Contrast tlie single plane and quiet move- ment of the facades of the fourteenth- and fif- teenth-century churches and palaces of Florence.

smaller one over the chancel; these are the climax of a restless design with com- plicated patterns and movements, and with indefinite broken upper contours because of the free-standing sculpture and great scrolls, which, however, unite the polygonal base with the circular dome. From this restless base rises the clear-cut mass of the dome, above which is repeated, in the lantern, the half- defined pattern below.

But the central type of church af- forded opportunity for even more daz- zling effects on the interior than on the exterior. For not only were all kinds of materials used to secure an effect of richness and all available spaces loaded extravagantly with marbles, reliefs, bronzes, gilding, and paintings, but the dome became the point at which crowds

of figures soar in a breath-taking sweep upward through the violently foreshort- ened architectural framework, which creates an illusion of reaching up to infinite heights (Fig. 52 7A). Here is the climax of the illusionism of Mantegna (Fig. 502A) and Correggio (Fig. 514A).

Secular architecture displayed the same general grandiose Character. Im- posing stairways, both external and in the interior, were a fertile motive toward this end, as is illustrated by the Aldo- brandini Villa at Frascati, or by a sketch of the Scuola di San Marco in Venice by Francesco Guardi (1712-1765), which catches the whole spirit of the baroque as well as its forms. The Great Hall of the Colonna Palace in Rome or of the Farnese Palace is typical of the extrava- gance of ornament to convey a feeling of pomp and circumstance: paintings

and gilded stucco ornament with statu- ary below; above, rising from a heavy cornice, a cosmos of figures, statues, and paintings.

Besides the churches and palaces, sup- plementary piazzas, monumental foun- tains combining architecture, sculpture, and water, and imposing stairways, such as that of Santa Trinita — all are structures that in scale as well as form contribute to a general aspect of sumptuousness.

SCULPTURE

In sculpture, the dominating person- ality was Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680), architect as well as sculp- tor. To be a consistent part of an impos- ing, even theatrical building, sculpture must partake of similar qualities. The

[a] Bernini. The Ec- stasy of Santa Teresa. 1646. Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome. {Ander- son)

Shrine for the bishop’s chair in St. Peter's (Fig. 528A) well illustrates the depend- ence upon materials for their richness of color and texture, for the baroque sculptors freely combined colored and white marble and gilding. The indis- tinct half-realized forms — figures, clouds, rays— -show a technical vir- tuosity in handling materials but an almost impudent disregard for their limitations — clouds and rays of light made of bronze. Yet the dazzling energy of this host of people, half sculptural, half pictorial, is held by an all-incor- porating sustained rhythm and by the vast spaciousness in which it is placed and within which it therefore becomes a focal point. Bernini’s papal tombs in St. Peter's, that of Alexander VII, for ex-

ample, and his Santa Teresa in Santa Maria della Vittoria (Fig. 529A) are prime examples of theatricality, manifesting the same kind of technical virtuosity and loss of feeling for stone that charac- terizes late Greek work. Intense facial expression, melodramatic poses, pic- torial background, agitated voluminous draperies of white marble in juxtaposi- tion with huge folds of variegated red marble — - all these contribute to the desired effect, Michelangelo had ex- pressed the utmost movement in his figures (Figs. 13B, 462A, 463A and b), but always sternly within the ideal space created by the original block of stone. Bernini abandoned this ideal space and allowed the figure to burst forth with great energy in all directions.

Contrast with the clearly defined forms of the fifteenth century (Fig. 455A) a portrait by Bernini, with its movement, its realistic treatment of details, and its subtle modeling which causes the parts to flow one into another and the shad- ows to produce an almost pictorial ef- fect.

Baroque painting involves carrying to a climax, at times to an extravagant climax under the stimulation of melo- dramatic ideals, many of the tendencies of the sixteenth century. Correggio’s frescoes in Parma Cathedral are as truly, though less extravagantly, baroque as those in the domes of II Gesii and Sand Ignazio and in the Barbarini Palace in Rome. Caravaggio’s realism and vio- lently contrasted light and dark and the Mannerists’ types become more sweetly sentimental. Tintoretto’s conquest of space design set the three-dimensional organization as the normal type, with one or two great rhythms holding com- plex detail within their dominating sweep; and his rapid, more direct method in brush work was peculiarly suited to the expression of half-defined, dramatic effects. Veronese’s use of a cooler, more silvery light and largeness of decorative quality reappears in Gio- vanni Battista Tiepolo (1696-1770). With him, though we are still in the baroque, we are also largely in the eighteenth century, when dramatic in- tensity eases into flowing grace.

SUMMARY

The consistency of the baroque style in all the arts, the perfect harmony of its forms and ideals, mark it as a style that consciously used a certain type of expression because no other could suitably serve its objective. Technical virtuosity, the result of centuries of endeavor, now became an end in itself.

The striving for effects, the theatricality — if these qualities are the object of unfavorable criticism, it should be criti- cism aimed at the age itself, at those forces which demanded in the declining years of the Renaissance cycle a type of expression that the artists must in- evitably supply. When the exuberance of baroque was under control, its ca- pacity for subordinating a multiplicity of complex movements into the sweep of an all-incorporating rhythm and its magnificent conquest of space in three- dimensional design were contributions of great value to the European tradition.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ayscough, Anthony, Country House Baroque , London, 1940

Briggs, M. S., Baroque Architecture, McBride, Nast, 1914

Fokker, T. H., Roman Baroque Art, 2 vols,, Oxford University Press, 1938

Fry, Roger E., Transformations, Brentano’s, 1927

Hagen, Oskar F. L., Art Epochs and Their Leaders, Scribner, 1927

Kimball, Sidney F., The Creation of the Rococo, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1943

McComb, A. K., The Baroque Painters of Italy, Harvard University Press, 1934

Ricci, Gorrado, Baroque Architecture and Sculpture in Italy, Dutton, 1912

Scott, Geoffrey, The Architecture of Humanism, 2d ed., Scribner, 1924

Sitwell, Sacheverell, German Baroque Sculpture, London, 1938

Southern Baroque Art, Knopf, 1924

Voss, H. G. A., Die Malerei des Barock in Rom, Berlin, 1924

Waterhouse, Ellis K., Baroque Painting in Rome, Macmillan, 1937

Weisbach, Werner, Die Kunst des Barock in Italien, Frankreich, Deutschland, und Spanien, Berlin, 1924

— Spanish Baroque Art, Macmillan,

1941

WolfBin, Heinrich, Principles of Art History, tr. by M. D. Hottinger, Holt, 1932

— — Renaissance und Barock, Munich,

1926

QMJU&Axuvce,

VJjit in ! jo-rthe^m.

30

FLEMISH ART

(FOURTEENTH TO seventeenth century)

W HILE the Renaissance was evolv- ing its normal cycle from the ar- chaic to decline in Italy, northern and western Europe — each country with local variations — was pursuing the Gothic tradition to its flamboyant deca- dence, which was reached when the Ren- aissance was just maturing — in the fif- teenth century. Even that century, in its latter years, saw evidences of a cen- trifugal movement on the part of the Renaissance to all parts of Europe; but the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eight- eenth centuries brought its direct im- pact. Sometimes its influence was assimilated; often it entirely trans- formed the native art or robbed it of its individuality. Frequently it was im- posed by arbitrary monarchs, for the eighteenth century in particular was the heyday of the absolute monarch and the aristocracy, under whose influence art, and especially Italian art, became an artificial fashion rather than a genu- ine expression with vital significance.

But the Renaissance had a far wider influence than this. Its spirit of inquiry instigated travel, exploration, and col- onization. Its love of independent thought permeated religious life, bring- ing about a revolt from the Roman Catholic Church and the establishment of Protestantism. It stimulated scientific activities, laying the foundation of ob- servation and critical thinking that has resulted in unparalleled scientific de- velopment; in industrial and economic revolution; and politically, in the over- throw of absolutism and the coming into power of the middle classes and the masses. In the nineteenth century, as they began to emerge into the era of the present day, Europe and America were still struggling with the effects of the Renaissance. To watch the large aspects of this movement — for its com- plexity is too great to treat it in detail in one volume — let us begin with the flourishing Gothic art of the fifteenth- century Netherlands.

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[a] Town Hall. Brussels. 1401-35. (JV. D. Photo )

The lowlands facing the North Sea near the mouth of the Rhine were the home of an industrious people, hardy because of their continual struggle with nature for self-preservation. Their knowledge of the sea and their courage in braving it early made them traders and manufacturers. Their ships brought raw wool and carried away the fine woolen cloth famous throughout Europe. Of the several provinces included in the Lowlands, or Netherlands, Flanders up to the seventeenth century was the most important, with many great manufacturing centers, such as Ghent, Louvain, and Ypres, and with Bruges not only the chief market of the Lowlands but one of the great trade centers of Europe. For an arm of the North Sea, now silted up, reached inland to Bruges as late as the fifteenth century. Some of its trade went overland by the Rhine and the Brenner Pass; some went by sea around western Europe through Gibraltar.

Bruges (meaning “City of Bridges”) was a typical Flemish city of medieval times, large, industrious, and wealthy. “In the fifteenth century buyers and sellers from every land resorted to Bruges for their trade. The merchant of Venice and the Jew of Lombard Street encountered one another on her quays and in her exchanges. Sailors and traders from all parts of the world made her streets lively with the varied colour- ing of their bright costumes. They came and went, and each left something be- hind him. The wealth of England met the wealth of the East in the market- halls of Bruges. The representatives of twenty foreign princes dwelt within the walls of this capital of the Dukes of Burgundy, at the crossroads of the high- ways of the North. ‘In those days,’ says Mr. Weale, ‘the squares [of Bruges] were adorned with fountains; its bridges with statues of bronze; the public buildings and many of the private houses with statuary and carved work, the beauty of which was heightened and brought out by gilding and polychrome; the windows were rich with stained glass, and the walls of the interiors adorned with paintings in distemper or hung with gorgeous tapestry.’ ” 1

Though technically Flanders was a fief, now of a duke and now of a king, these great Flemish industrial cities were only loosely united, for each was a strong civic unit, thoroughly organized through its merchant guilds, which were not only industrial but social, religious, and political as well. The cult of the individual, so prominent in Italy in the

1 Sir W. M. Conway, The Van Eycks and Their Followers, Dutton, 192 1 , p. 85. For an excellent picture of Flemish life in the Middle Ages see Chaps. VII and VIII.

[a] Cloth Hall. Tpres. 13th cent. Destroyed, 1Q14 , in World War I. (jV. D. Photo )

fifteenth century, had not yet reached Flanders. To pursue a craft, a man must belong to the guild controlling that craft — the painter, for example, to the Guild of St. Luke, which included the saddlers and glassworkers and mirror- workers as well. To secure membership in the guild, the aspiring painter was apprenticed in boyhood to a master, with whom he lived as a son, and who taught him the fundamentals of his craft: how to make implements, how to prepare the panels with gesso, and how to mix colors, oils, and varnishes — for there was no supply house where a painter could purchase ready-made pig- ments and implements. When the youth had mastered these problems and had learned to work in the traditional man- ner of his master, he usually spent sev- eral years as a journeyman, traveling about from city to city, observing and gaining ideas from other masters. He was then eligible to become a master

of his craft and was admitted to the guild. Through the guild he obtained commissions; the guild inspected his painting for honest, craftsmanlike ma- terials and workmanship; and the guild secured him adequate payment . 1 The result of such a system was the sound craftsmanship that characterizes the best work of Flanders.

By the end of the fifteenth century Bruges was losing its prestige because of the silting-up of its harbors and be- cause of political disturbances. Antwerp now became its successor as the center of the political, industrial, and artistic life of Flanders. Antwerp was more cos- mopolitan than Bruges, and more eager to respond to the stimulation to trade that was being felt because of the dis- coveries in the New World. Life became more exuberant, and more sympathetic toward the new ideas that were pene- trating northern Europe from Italy.

1 For the guild system see Ibid.

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Just at this time, however, Flanders, as a fief of the Spanish crown, was drawn into the religious wars. The Renaissance in northern Europe had emphasized the right of the individual in religious mat- ters as opposed to the authority of the Catholic Church. Many of the provinces of the Lowlands had turned Protestant. Spain, strongly Catholic and Jesuitical, directed against these heretics the Span- ish Inquisition. Antwerp, the center of the struggle, lost much of its wealth and vigor in these wars. In the seventeenth century, however, after the Peace of Westphalia, a renewed vitality under a stimulation from Italy produced the last great school of Flemish art.

ARCHITECTURE

Flanders in the fourteenth and fif- teenth centuries was thoroughly Gothic; and though the Flemish built fine ca- thedrals, their most characteristic build- ings were the town halls and the belfries, the guild and cloth, or market, halls, such as those at Bruges, Ghent, and Ypres. The Tpres Cloth Hall (Fig. 533A), of great vigor and dignity, was a large rectangular building with a steeply pitched roof, four small turrets with spires at the corners, and a massive tower with turrets which crowned the building. The small amount of deco- ration was inconspicuous. The im- pressiveness of the hall was due to the symmetrical massing of simple units (the rectangular body with pointed roof and the rectangular tower), to the quiet rhythm of repeated pointed arches and pointed turrets, and to the unbroken expanse of the roof, which balanced the large number of openings below.

This sturdy, restrained design became more slender, more elegant, and more ornate in the Brussels Town Hall (Fig. 532A) — an example of the same evolu- tion of style that we saw in the cathe- dral. We note this in the tower and

turrets, in the roof broken by frequent dormers, and in the light and shade of the facade made rich by the carvings and niches, the original statues of which were painted and gilded.

PAINTING

In northern Europe no great wall sur- faces offered the painter an opportunity to develop a monumental kind of wall decoration such as the Italians produced in their mosaics and frescoes. For the evolution of the Gothic aimed ever to eliminate the wall by reducing the structure to a framework of piers and vaulting and by filling the open spaces with glass, the great mural decoration of the North. Hence the Northern painter’s activity in the Gothic age was confined chiefly to painting miniatures and illuminations, unless one includes also the making of windows, which is handling of color, though not with the brush. In their colors, composition, backgrounds, and drawing the windows bear close relation to the miniatures, despite the difference of medium.

Suddenly, in the early fifteenth cen- tury, painting on a major scale ap- peared in the work of the Van Eyck brothers, Hubert (about 1370-1426) and Jan (about 1385-1440) . Not that miniature-painting ceased. In fact the Flemings Pol de Limbourg and his brother were producing at the court of the Duke of Burgundy such books as the Tres Riches Heures (Fig. 358A) at just about the time that the Van Eyck brothers were painting the Ghent Altar- piece (Fig. 536A). 1 This altarpiece is a good example of the folding altarpiece typical of the North. When closed it

1 This was commissioned of Hubert in 1415, left unfinished at his death in 1426, and com- pleted by Jan in 1432. It seems impossible to disentangle the work of the two brothers. It was carried off by the Germans during World War II, but has now been returned to Ghent, un- harmed.

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535

[a] Jan van Eyck; also attributed to Hubert . Madonna of Chancellor Rolin. H. 2j in. c. 1432. Louvre , Paris. ( Alinari )

presents in monochrome the Annuncia- tion and also, equal in scale and impor- tance, realistic portraits of the donors. When it is opened, there is presented an intensely colorful rendering of the me- dieval conception of the redemption of man. In the center of the large lower panel — the Adoration of the Lamb — in a meadow gay with flowers, stands the altar with the Lamb, from whose heart flows a stream of blood into a chalice; around it are kneeling angels; in front is the fountain of life surrounded by kneeling Apostles. Toward the center, from the four corners great throngs of people approach, clad in rich robes, through a country where rosebushes and vines are laden with flowers; in the background stretches a varied landscape with richly wooded hills, rivers, and towns, and above this an early-morning sky. Over the altar appears a dove, from which rays descend to all the groups below. Above are the majestic figures

of God the Father, John the Baptist, and the Virgin, who sits tranquilly reading a book. Her hair falls loose over her shoulders; her elaborate crown is decorated with rubies, topaz, and pearls, with roses, lilies, and harebells, symbols of her virtues; seven shining stars scattered over the inscriptions of the arch form a supercrown. Her robe of blue is trimmed with an elaborately jeweled panel of gold-and-black bro- cade. The soft texture of the hair, the luster of the pearls, the gleam of the other jewels, in fact all the details, are indicated with extraordinary realism. But despite these realistic renderings of the detail, the Adoration scene is sub- ordinate to a simple symmetrical or- ganization with the Lamb as a focal point. The altar is placed on the vertical axis, and about it swing two concentric planes, the inner marked by the kneel- ing angels, the outer by the kneeling Apostles, the edge of the hosts, and the

536

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[a] Hubert and Jan van Eyck. Ghent Altar- piece, or Adoration of the Lamb. Central panel. W. 8 ft. 1413-32. Church of St. Bavon, Ghent. The analyses show (a) the organization of depth and the play upon texture;

(b) the use of a sharp triangle as a basic unit shape.

dove; from this outer circle the hosts radiate toward the four corners; the wavelike high horizon unites all the elements.

This minutely literal rendering of ob- jective appearance strikes anyone for- cibly in Flemish art if he approaches it with Italian painting in mind. Soon,

[a] Rogier van der Weyden. Descent from the Cross. 1435-50. Escorial, Spain.

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however, he realizes that all these de- tails and all the varying textures create a unity in which line and color are im- portant organizing means. Here is a smooth enamel-like surface of deep resonant color that has a strong linear quality, for the pigment is used with a precision that seems to be born of an innate sensitivity to line. It is, in fact. Gothic linealism.

In the small jewel-like Madonna of Chancellor Rolin (Fig. 535A), the wealth of detail is equally well controlled and organized. In a loggia with tiled floor, rich carvings, and stained glass the Ma- donna is seated, heavily draped in a richly bordered mantle which spreads in great folds over the pavement about her; an angel is holding a gold crown above her head. On the left, Chancellor Rolin, the donor of the picture, dressed

in the richest stuffs, kneels before a prayer desk. Through the columns one looks out on a garden with flowers and birds to a parapet where two passers-by are looking over toward the town on both sides of a winding river, where people walk about the square and across the bridge; beyond this scene the land- scape fades into distant blue hills. The eye delights in the rich color-harmony as it wanders from detail to detail, from texture to texture — stone, tile, glass, gold, hair, stuffs, flowers — but this wandering of the eye feels the co-ordi- nating influence of the arches and the columns of the loggia and of the con- sistently hard luminous surface.

The quality of color, the surface tex- ture, and the enduring quality of these paintings — for they are in an extraor- dinarily fine state of preservation — are

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due to the technical methods of the Van Eycks, who, though they did not invent the oil medium, seem to have brought earlier experiments to a climax. The preliminary stages in painting such a picture were the same as in tempera — coating the wooden panel with gesso upon which the figures were drawn and modeled in light and shadow. Upon this groundwork were added successive coats of glazes, though the exact vehicle used is not known, until a lustrous, hard, enduring surface was produced . 1

1 See the unfinished Saint Barbara (Antwerp) by JanVanEyckto illustrate the preliminary stages; for Flemish technique consult Laurie, The Mate- rials of the Painter’s Craft in Europe and Egypt.

In the work of the V an Eycks we are witnessing the same exploitation of the visible world, the same break from the imagery and symbolism of the medieval world, that we saw in Italy, except that in the North it took the form of a pas- sionate interest in all the minutiae of objective nature and an equally pas- sionate desire to translate these details into form. In details, we see an exact copy of nature; in their unity, an organ- ization not found in nature. The idea of using everyday life as subject matter for the painter was novel. The Ghent Altarpiece is thoroughly medieval; in the Madonna of the Chancellor Rolin the re- ligious subject matter is hardly more

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539

[a] Memlinc. Marriage of St. Catherine. 1479,

than an excuse; in the Giovanni Arnolfini and His Wife (Fig. 538A) a thoroughly genre scene shows the ability of Jan not only to satisfy the popular demand for realism but also to organize realistic de- tail into a coherent design in an interior space, partly by the subtle values ofthe Space-defining and unifying light and partly by the pattern of line and unit shapes that repeat, contrast, and center upon the hands.

Rogier van der Weyden (about 1400- 1464), whose home in the Walloon

, Hospital of St. John, Bruges.

country in southern Flanders brought him into contact with the French, at times reveals a subordination of details

and a predominant sense of design based

upon sweeping line and balance of mass. In his Descent from the Cross (Fig. 537 A )> the eye is not lured from detail to detail, but is focused upon the central figure of Christ, to which the sweep of line and the area of light inevitably lead it. There is no landscape background. Against a flat surface the figures stand out in strong relief, and through the

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540

group runs a common intense emotion that unites them psychologically. Ca- pacity for selecting essentials and set- ting them forth with emphasis enabled Rogier to paint portraits of forceful directness.

In the second half of the fifteenth century definite influences from Italy 1 brought certain changes in Flemish painting. In Hans Memlinc (about 1430-1494), for example, the linealism of the Van Eycks and Rogier van der Weyden was softened and the types be- came more ingratiating, yet without loss of the rich Flemish color and enamel-like texture. In the Marriage of Saint Catherine (Fig. 539A) the Madonna and the Child are enthroned in the center, a panel of rich damask behind them and a fine Oriental rug on the floor; saints and angels are grouped symmetrically on each side. At the top of the panel two small angels are float- ing down with a crown to place on the Virgin’s head; on both sides are kneel- ing angels, one with a musical instru- ment, the other holding an open book, the leaves of which the Madonna is turning over. At the right Saint Barbara with her tower sits reading intently; at the left Saint Catherine reaches out her hand to receive the ring from the Christ Child; behind stand Saint John the Baptist with the lamb and Saint John the Evangelist with his poison cup; through the columns and piers we catch glimpses, in typical Flemish surround- ings, of scenes from the lives of these saints. We feel the Northern realism here, in the detailed painting of the

1 Hugo van der Goes (about 1440-14.82) painted for Tommaso Portinari, agent of the Medici banking house at Bruges, an altarpiece (Uffizi, Florence) the advent of which in Flor- ence is responsible for the realistic shepherds in Ghirlandaio’s Adoration of the Shepherds (Uffizi). Florentine painters were making cartoons for tapestries to be woven in Flanders. These are but two of many mutual relationships between the two countries.

pattern and the texture of the fine rug, the rich brocade of the panel, the angel’s robe and Saint Catherine’s dress of black-and-gold brocade, the red velvet of the sleeves, and the delicate veil, so exquisite that it is scarcely dis- cernible in a photograph. Still the total impression is not so much an insistence upon minute details as one upon the suave rhythms that control them, and the whole conception is lyrical, far re- moved from the austerity of the Ghent Altarpiece.

From even a cursory study of a group of fifteenth-century Flemish paintings it is apparent that there are certain well-defined types that govern the ap- pearance of the figures, except in the case of an actual portrait. The Ma- donnas, for example, are much alike. The face with its high forehead, long nose, and small mouth is conventional. The Child is like a diminutive man with a large head, a face as mature as the Madonna’s, and a wizened body quite without structure. These expressions are largely conventional, a part of the tradi- tion of the school. The figure as an organic structure is something in which the early Flemings were not interested, as the Italians were.

The great century of true Flemish painting was the fifteenth, as we have seen it in the work of the Van Eyck brothers, Rogier van der Weyden, and Memlinc, centering chiefly in Bruges. During this century communication be- tween Flanders and Italy was becoming much more frequent. Not only did these countries have a common trade interest, but the Flemish artists began to journey more frequently to Venice and Flor- ence. Evidences of this contact we see creeping into Flemish art — an interest in the figure as expressed in the nude; Renaissance architecture and architec- tural details replacing Gothic in back- grounds; Italian types and landscape. With the coming of the sixteenth cen-

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54 *

[a] Bosch. Temptation of St. Anthony. Middle panel of a triptych, c. 1490-1500. National Museum , Lisbon.

sistence upon realism which, when sev- ered from the religious subject, became genre, sometimes charming, sometimes satirical or fantastic; second, the Italian imitation, which l'esulted in paintings that were neither Mediterranean nor Gothic but a curious combination in which both racial styles were used, un- assimilated.

1 tury, when Bruges lost its industrial

prestige, the center of industry as well as of art shifted to Antwerp, an alert, more cosmopolitan city in which the new ideas of the Renaissance found more fertile soil than in conservative medieval Bruges. Thus the sixteenth

century saw two main currents of art:

- first, the native tradition with its in-

!-'{■. : ■ ■ .v:

542

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[a] Bruegel the Elder. Hunters

Vienna .

A unique painter in the Flemish tradition was Hieronymus Bosch (about 1450-1516). In his ideology medieval fantasy and grotesquerie reached a zenith. But his inexhaustible, audacious fantasy, which invented all kinds of diabolical creatures, found expression in clear, skillfully organized pictorial forms. Usually a landscape or an architectural framework, receding into space, provided the setting for figures that show Northern realism in detail and Gothic linealism in the crisp edges of the color areas, strongly opposed in value. All this is evident in any of his versions of The Temptation of Saint Anthony (Fig. 54 1 a ), a subject he painted frequently.

The native tradition appeared also in Pieter Bruegel (or Breughel) the Elder (1525?-! 569), who showed that he could accept increments from other traditions without impairing his own

integrity. As a journeyman, Bruegel traveled widely, particularly in Italy; and while in Hunters in the Snow (Fig. 542 a) , for example, one feels something of the Italian selective and organizing power, the Italian universalizing of the theme and familiarity with the science of linear and aerial perspective, yet every influence has been thoroughly assimilated. The eye takes in the scene and the mood at a glance, so directly and so convincingly are they conveyed. A few moments 5 careful observation, however, reveals that this impression is the result of a very precise organiza- tion that controls every detail. A cold blue-green dominant color with warm accents here and there, as in the fire and in the hunters and the dogs, sets forth the mood, as well as the visual appearance, of a village in winter. A clearly enunciated diagonal movement inward, marked by dogs, hunters, and

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543

[a] Bruegel the Elder. The Wedding Dance. 1566. Detroit In- stitute of Arts. {Detroit Institute) The analysis shows an asym- metrical organization of sinuous movement in depth. Compare with the static effect of the symmetrical organization of depth in Fig. 556 a.

from the lower right, marked by the edge of the snow-covered hill and re- peated again and again in details. Ver- ticals, prominent in the trees and houses, and horizontals in the skating-ponds stabilize the diagonals, as do the rec- tangular motif of the ponds and the

trees, starts from the lower left-hand corner and continues, less definitely but none the less surely, by the road, the row of small trees, and the church far across the valley to the jutting crags of the hills. This movement is countered by an opposing diagonal

544

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[a] Rubens. Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus. i6ig or 1620. Munich.

sharp triangles in the hunter group, in the branches of the trees, in the roofs and the hills. 1

The roistering peasant life of his own environment absorbed Bruegel, and whatever the theme, its vivid reality, at first glance so casually natural, is not the recording of visual perceptions, as with many Flemings, but the mar-

1 Compare with Giorgione’s Fite Champitre (Fig. 508A) ; a similar basic design.

shaling of them into an abstract design which by distilling the merely perceived renders it far more effective to the eye. Particularly is this true in handling a large crowd, as in The Wedding Dance (Fig. 543 a). The individuals in the foreground, while retaining all the actu- alities of type, costume, and environ- ment, at the same time are drawn with such economy and emphasis at vital points that each becomes an abstract

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expression of the rhythm of the dance. The group as a whole is firmly knit into interlocking curves in depth — move- ments that are carried partly by line and partly by shapes and color areas — which are held and accented by static trees and standing figures.

There was however but one Pieter Bruegel the Elder. I talianization seemed inevitable, and by it the truly Flemish art perished, while the Italianate form reached a pinnacle because of the sheer genius of Peter Paul Rubens (1577- 1640), who lived in Italy for eight years as the court painter of the Duke of Man- tua before he returned to Antwerp. After the religious wars, Antwerp re- gained its wealth and prestige and, still loyal to the Church, was ready to accept the expression of the Counter-Reforma- tion, the baroque. Jesuit churches, pat- terned after their Italian prototypes, rose in Antwerp, Louvain, and Brussels. Baroque pulpits appeared, as at St. Gudule in Brussels, though they were hardly at ease in a severe Gothic in- terior; Guild Halls were remodeled to accord with the fashions of the day.

The exuberant painter Rubens was in perfect tune with this environment. Gifted in the handling of pigment, he brought painting to a climax in the history of painting in Europe and was a powerful influence for succeeding cen- turies. With an energy like that of Tin- toretto, he usually chose dramatic themes, whether the subject was reli- gious or mythological, landscape, por- trait, or genre. 1 In the Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus (Fig. 544A), to take an example from the mythological pictures, the surface pattern consists of areas of extraordinarily rich contrast- ing textures — soft luminous flesh, silky

1 The huge number and the uneven quality of pictures attributed to Rubens are due to his well-known practice of composing or perhaps

partly painting a picture and leaving the com- pletion to some of his great number of assistants.

hair, lustrous satin with scintillating re- flections, swarthy masculine flesh, armor and heavy cloaks, the hide of the horses, the sky and the landscape — and is or- ganized by intersecting diagonals and strong verticals; by light masses sur- rounded by dark. Yet it is not primarily surface pattern but a tightly knit group of solid masses existing definitely in space, with movement backward and forward in a truly baroque type of three- dimensional design. Each unit of this design is built up of color and light, as in Titian’s late works; it is not drawn, in the Florentine sense of draftsman- ship. 2

Whirling movement carried on a di- agonal off into space, quieted, and then brought back into a whirl is illustrated in the Kermess (Fig. 546A). Swirling units made up of two or three figures or of the still life are carried, by every kind of compositional device — line, light and dark, color, aerial perspective — from the lower left-hand corner to the distant right and thence inward by the lines of the hills and sky and by the strongly patterned trees and house back to the starting-place. The exuberant movement of the dancers is offset by the quiet spaciousness of the distance and by the solidity and repeated ver- ticals of the trees and the house.

In Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641) we pass from the dazzling richness, impetuosity, and frequent coarseness of Rubens, his master, to a sobriety and refinement which, by comparison, is at times rather soft and empty. In his portraits, his chief work, at times he created a quietly rich surface of the textures of the rich fabrics, fine lace, jew- elry, and feathered fan. Even the well- known portraits of the children of the court of Charles I in their overelegant satins and lace furnished Van Dyck an

2 See Munro, Great Pictures of Europe, pp. 217 ff., for excellent notes on Rubens’s use of color in this and other pictures.

[a] Rubens. Kermess ( Village Dance) , c. 1623. Louvre, Paris. ( Giraudon )

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opportunity for beautiful passages in the painting of stuffs. He displays in his figures no vigor either of character or of form, but, rather, an aristocratic de- tachment and somberness. For his sit- ters — much of his work was done for England’s nobility, who invited him thither to paint portraits, to decorate their mansions, and to perpetuate their family pride - — his sitters were a stately, elegant, self-centered people whose life was superficial. Van Dyck was not a satirist, like Goya.

METALWORK, WOOD- CARVING, WEAVING

The carefully worked out details in Flemish painting serve to illustrate the versatility in many fields on. the part of the Flemish artists, whose skill made them famous and influential through- out Europe. As in painting, everything was produced under the control of the guilds, with a like result of sound crafts- manship. Crowns and miters, jewels, and ceremonial vessels reveal the same

skill of the goldsmith that we saw in the Gothic period. The pages of the illumi- nated manuscripts, glowing with color and gold, richly decorated initial letters, and miniatures, rival the panels of the altarpieces. The skill of the Flemings in the carving and paneling of wood made a wide market for their furniture and carried their workers to many parts of Europe to execute orders on the spot. But it is perhaps in the craft of tapestry- weaving that the Flemings showed their greatest skill . 1 In the Gothic tapestries 1 There were two important centers for tap- estry-weaving: Arras and Brussels. Arras was the chief center from early in the fourteenth century until 1447, when Louis XI seized the town. The Arras hangings were famous all over Europe, and some of them were designed by the Van Eycks and Memlinc. After the fall of Arras, Brussels became the center of the craft, which there operated under royal patronage. Painters such as Rogier van der Weyden and Rubens made cartoons for the weavers, Charles V re- quired that the tapestries be signed by the mas- ter weavers. Of these Willem de Pannemaker was the most famous, and his signature appears on the great series made for Charles, such as the Conquest of Tunis in the Royal Palace at Madrid.

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we saw that the same fundamental principles controlled the weaver that controlled the sculptor and the glass- worker; namely, decorative fitness through the insistence upon line, pat- tern, and color. Although the tendency toward naturalism was making itself felt and a love of minute detail was inherent in the Flemish artists, still they composed their figures skillfully into large units for the decorative effect, and kept detail subordinate. The tapestries became very large, and more compli- cated in composition. Classical, his- torical, and pastoral subjects entered. Dyes of intermediate tones, which were now becoming available, enabled the weavers to obtain more brilliant color and more pictorial effects. The borders became wider and more complicated and often gave delightful representa- tions of foliage, fruit, and flowers as well as heraldic devices and inscriptions.

SUMMARY

In contrast to southern, or Mediter- ranean, man, with his search for the underlying principles of an expression of form that is clear, definite, with all parts precisely related, symmetrical, and reposeful, “Northern man knows nothing of repose; his entire power of configuration concentrates itself on the representation of uncontrolled, bound- less agitation. The storm spirits are his nearest kin .” 1 Thus the Gothic style, with its incessant movement, its feeling for infinite space, is the most fitting ex- pression of the North, and the baroque, with similar indefiniteness and move- ment, found there a congenial home. Therefore in Flanders a splendid secular architecture, symbolic of the vigorous industrial and civic life, clung to the Gothic style; and out of the flourishing school of Gothic miniature-painters rose

1 Wilhelm Worringer, Form in Gothic, Putnam, 1927, p. 83.

a school of painting whose strong lineal- ism controlled its matter-of-fact actual- ity and literal presentation of the details of visual perception. The soundest of craftsmen, these Flemish painters, by creating magnificent surfaces of glow- ing color, hard and enamel-like, made an important contribution to the evo- lution of the oil medium; their fellow craftsmen, through the rigid control of the guilds, maintained an equally high quality in the fields of metalwork and weaving. With the inevitable movement of the Renaissance to northern Europe, a period of unsuccessful assimilation was followed by a complete control, in the hands of Rubens, of both Northern and Southern elements and a complete fu- sion into a great climax in European painting.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ackerman, Phyllis, Tapestry , the Mirror of Civilize,* tion, Oxford University Press, 1933 Barker, Virgil, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Arts Pub- lishing Corporation, 1926 Conway, Sir W, M., The Van Eycks and Their Followers, London, 1921

Elst, Joseph J. M. I. van der, Baron, The Last Flowering of the Middle Ages, Doubleday, 1945

Friedlander, M. J., Die altniederldndische Malerei, 14 vols., Berlin, 1924-37

Die niederlandischen Maler des 17,

Jahrhunderls, Berlin, 1923 Fromentin, Eugene, The Masters of Past Time, Dutton, 1913

Fry, Roger E., Flemish Art, Brentano’s, 1927 Gluck, Gustav, ed., Brueghel, Details from His Pictures, tr. by Eveline B. Shaw, London,

• 93 6

- — — Die Kunst der Renaissance in Deutsch-

land, den Niederlanden, Frankreich, etc., Berlin, 1928

— • Pieter Brueghel the Elder, tr. by

Eveline B, Shaw, Hyperion Press, c. 1936 Hourticq, Louis, Rubens, tr. by Frederick Street, Duffield, T91S

Hunter, G. L., Tapestries, Their Origin, History and Renaissance, Lane, 1912 Lambotte, Paul, Flemish Painting before the Eighteenth Century, Studio, 1927

RENAISSANCE ART

548

Munro, Thomas, Great Pictures of Europe, Coward-McCann, 1930

Sterling, Charles, La Peiniure Jlamande, Rubens et son temps, Paris, c. 1937

Stevenson, R. A. M., ed., Rubens Paintings and. Drawings, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1939

Taylor, H. O., Thought and Expression in the

Sixteenth Century, 2d ed. rev., 2 vols., Mac- millan, 1930

Valentiner, W. R., Art of the Low Countries, tr. by Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer, Doubleday, Page, 1914

Weale, W. H. J., and Brockwell, M. W., The Van Eycks and Their Art, Lane, 1913 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791--92.

31

GERMAN ART

(fourteenth to sixteenth century)

I N THE Middle Ages we noted the vigor of the Rhenish craftsmen in many of the arts. They built finely con- structed and vaulted churches of bold picturesque mass and contour. Among the crafts their textiles and metalwork and wood-carving were equal to any produced in Europe. The impulse toward independent thought that was basic in the Renaissance movement in Germany touched chiefly religious and intellectual life, and resulted in a revolt from the authority of the Church of Rome and the establishment of the Protestant Church, The result of this Reformation was hostility to Rome and, perhaps unconsciously, to all things Ital- ian. Probably it was for this reason that the traditions of the Middle Ages per- sisted so long in Germany.

It was not until the sixteenth century that German Renaissance expression reached a climax in Diirer, Holbein, and Cranach. Almost immediately after this Germany was plunged into a series of disastrous religious wars which so drained its energy and its resources that it was unable to make any notable con- tribution to the arts of Europe. In the

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, however, there arose another great ex- pression of its people, perhaps its loftiest — the music of Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner.

ARCHITECTURE

German buildings seem always to' have had a predilection for the pic- turesque — irregular outlines, abnor- mally high, steeply pitched roofs with dormers, and abundant decoration in the form of bright color, gilding, and carvings. When the influence of the Renaissance came — late, as we have said — it came in the form of the ba- roque, which with its excessive orna- ment and unceasing movement made a strong appeal to German taste. It was in secular architecture particularly, the town halls and the houses of the wealthy merchants, that this influence made it- self felt. The Reformed Church had little zeal for building. In the houses — • the Peller House in Nuremberg (Fig. 549 a) was a typical example — the high gable had retained the essentials of the old traditions but had accepted some of the

GERMAN ART

549

outward forms of Italy. The arrange- ment of doors and windows had become symmetrical; the doorway was placed in the center and was emphasized by a bay above it; the stories with superimposed orders to frame the openings continued up into the gable and were decorated fantastically with scrolls, pinnacles, and statues.

PAINTING

AND GRAPHIC ARTS

German painting, like that of Flan- ders, evolved from miniatures and stained-glass windows. It appeared early in the multiple altarpiece, which was usually the gift of some wealthy burgher, painted to please his taste and that of his friends. The Isenheimer Altar- piece (Colmar) by Matthias Griinewald (1485-1530) summarizes several impor- tant traits. There is something savagely grim, brutally realistic, in much of this early German painting, and intense color, at times as harsh as the portrayal of the incident. Crucifixions and scenes of agony were popular, and the Danse Macabre was peculiarly Germanic. Yet fairy gardens with the Madonna seated in the midst of roses in a mellow radiant light may be the scene upon which the wings open. But in all this painting there is never absent the controlling, intricate linealism of the North.

In the sixteenth century, however, Diirer, Holbein, and Cranach were able to soften the crassness of the native style without sacrificing its vigor, to infuse a feeling of structure into the forms, to eliminate much of the detail in favor of emphasis at essential points, without, however, loss of the restless, intricate Gothic line.

It was Albrecht Diirer (1472-1528) who first showed this reconciliation. While Diirer was still a young man, the printing press was beginning to make books available. Paper was becoming

[a] Teller House. Nuremberg, 1605. An application of the Renaissance style to the high gabled house of the North. Jacob Wolff the Elder > architect. Destroyed in World War II.

better in quality and cheaper in price. Illustrations began to be used com- monly in printed books as early as about 1475. The extraordinary tech- nical ability of the German in wood- carving and his feeling for line as the chief means of creating form, as well as for its intrinsic calligraphic possibilities, were pre-eminent potentialities for suc- cessful illustration. Thus Diirer’s in- herited tradition, together with his individual ability, fitted him to supply the illustrated religious books that were in demand because of the religious fer- ment of the Reformation. His concep- tions, like those of Hubert Van Eyck, were of the Middle Ages, and his con-

55 °

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Diirer. St. Jerome in His Study. En- graving. 1514. Light is the real theme as well as the chief element of organization.

victions were as sincere and intense as his imaginative powers, to take the Apocalypse series as illustration. Tech- nically, Diirer used both the woodcut 1 and the copper engraving. In the Saint Christopher (Fig. 550B), the crisp lines create a surface pattern of large units of black, white, and intermediate gray in which the sweeping curves of the hills and the cloak hold in subordination the short, broken, jagged lines, which main- tain a constant rapid movement and create varied textures.

The Saint Jerome in His Study (Fig, 55OA) creates an atmosphere of peace, quiet, and orderliness — an atmosphere conducive to meditation. The sun streams warmly through the little round panes and envelops everything in the room with varying tones of light, thus

1 Some illustrators cut their own blocks; others do not. In Durer’s case it seems probable that this part of the work was done by a pro- fessional cutter.

[b] Diirer. S*. Christopher. Woodcut. ijij. Contrast with Fig. 550 A for difference between woodcut and engraving.

tying them into unity. The saint sits at his desk absorbed in work, quite disre- gardful of the movement of the sands in the hourglass behind him. The lion and the dog are dozing in perfect re- pose. The books, the cushions, and even the slippers underneath the bench sug- gest relaxation and comfort. Indeed, a mood as well as a light suffuses and submerges all the infinite detail, which, however, with its varying materials — knotty wood, glass, metal, fur, stuffs — creates a surface of interplaying tex- tures. All the details feel the control of certain emphatic unifying elements, such as the beams of the ceiling, the arch of the window, the shadow on the floor repeating the curves in the ani- mals.

Like Leonardo, Diirer was an in- quirer. In his eager curiosity about everything he belonged to the Renais- sance. He traveled in Italy, and was much impressed with the painters and with the beauty of the country. “How I shall freeze after this sun!” he wrote to one of his friends at Nuremberg. But Durer’s fiber was too strong for him to

GERMAN ART

55i

be lured far away from his native tradi- tions, though the influence of Italian forms appears in his Adoration of the Trinity , for example, in the absence of Gothic partitions and the pointed arches; and in a design strongly remi- niscent of Fra Angelico’s Coronation of the Virgin but with greater depth, more massive solidity in the figures, and less use of calligraphic line.

Hans Holbein the Younger (1497— 1543), like Diirer, belonged to Renais- sance Germany. But in his greatest work, his portraits, Holbein alone of his nation had the selective ability, the capacity to extract from the total visual impression a definite linear motif to which he subordinated whatever detail he used. In Catherine Howard (Fig. 551 a), for example, notice how he states the dominant curve motif in the large brooch, repeats it again and again in the face and the headdress, expands it in the embroidery of the sleeves, and opposes it by the sharp angles of the collar. His lines are clear-cut and sus- tained, not broken, indefinite, and rest- less, as in many Northern painters. Technically, Holbein belongs to the fif- teenth-century Flemish tradition, for the surfaces of his paintings are as lus- trous as enamel; flat, for he uses shadow sparingly; and highly decorative.

Holbein’s keen vision, his control over line, and his ability to select a pose, a costume, and a motif of composition that will emphasize characteristic as- pects of personality are evident in his drawings, which are largely preliminary studies for the long series of portraits painted for the English court, whither he was called by Henry VIII. Drawn in red or black chalk, or with a silver- point, with a light wash of color here and there or a few minutely worked de- tails of pattern or color, sometimes the line is light, as in the designs for metal- work and jewelry; sometimes it is a strong continuous sweep; often it is

[a] Holbein the Tounger. Catherine Howard , Fifth Queen of Henry VIII. 1540-41. Toledo Museum of Art, Toledo, Ohio . ( Toledo Museum)

broken or wavering; usually it is defi- nite, and always it attains its objective unerringly. In the Man in a Broad- brimmed Hat (Fig. 552B), the strong sil- houette of the hat not only is interesting as pattern but serves to emphasize the sensitive face and keen eyes, and the suave curves in hat and hair are con- sistent with the almost effeminate char- acter of the subject. The forty-one woodcuts known as the Dance of Death (Fig. 552A) not only illustrate Holbein’s lucid thought and expression but dis- close a remarkable dramatic power and an exuberant inventiveness. Death, in the form of a skeleton imbued with life and alert movement, always plays his part with grim irony as he mockingly enters into the activity of each indi- vidual.

552

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Holbein the Younger. Dance of Death: “The Old Man ” Woodcut, c. 1526. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (. Metropolitan Mu- seum)

[b] Holbein the Younger. Man in a Broad- brimmed Hat. Drawing with washes of color in the hair and. face, Basel Museum.

Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472- 1553), an accomplished engraver as well as a painter, remained more Ger- man in his harsh realism, detailed in- dividual heads, strong unmodulated color, and emphatically linear design. In the Crucifixion (Fig. 553A) , the massing of the lights and darks — the three fig- ures against the dark sky, the heads and spears against the light, the light masses of the horses and of the group of the Virgin — suggests an engraver’s design. But the crass realism is permeated by a spiritual quality that results from the isolation of the crosses, as in Mantegna’s Crucifixion (Fig. 501 a) , and from the sym- metrical spatial organization that radi- ates from the central cross. The horses cut like wedges through the informally massed crowd with its indefinite, in- tricate, unending linear movement, which is echoed in the nervous drapery above, v

SUMMARY

Although in architecture he enthu- siastically accepted and adapted the ba- roque, the German found in the graphic arts and in painting, whichremained es- sentially Gothic, an expression most in harmony with his nature. For in these arts line — with a reality of its own quite apart from its use in demarking areas and defining planes — abstract, intricate, interweaving line produced an indefinite, never-ending movement and texture that found a counterpart in the polyphonic music of Bach. Thus the typically Northern minute realism, in- tense, often harsh in feeling, was saved by its rhythmic lineal pattern and its stimulating color, so consistent in mood with both the content and the pattern. Their superb technical ability combined with love of decoration often led the artists to load with ornament not only

german art

553

[a] Cranach . Cruci- fixion. 1538. Charles H. and Mary F. S. Worces- ter Collection , Art In- stitute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

their buildings, but the altars, the grilles, and even the pages of their early printed books. Technical virtu- osity rather than esthetic effectiveness seems to have been their objective, though such masters as Durer, Holbein, and Cranach, from contacts with the Mediterranean cultures, infused organi- zation into Northern lineal realism. After the sixteenth century, production became negligible, because of the devas- tating religious wars, until creative ac- tivity again manifested itself in another form, the music of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bodmer, Enrico, Durer, Novara, 1944 Carrington, FitzRoy, ed., Prints and Their Makers, Houghton Mifflin, 19x6 Dickinson, H. A. S. } German Masters of Art, Stokes, 1914

Durer, Albrecht, Records of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, ed. by Roger E. Fry, Merrymount Press, 1913 Glaser, Curt, Lukas Cranach, Leipzig, 1923

■ — ■ — — Les Peintres primiifs Allemands,

Paris, 1931

Gluck, Gustav, Die Kurtst der Renaissance in Deutschland, den Niederlanden, Frankreich, etc., Berlin, 1928

Hagen, Oskar F. L., Art Epochs and Their Leaders, Scribner, 1927

RENAISSANCE ART

554

Hind, A. M., ed., Albrecht Diirer, His Engravings and Woodcuts, Stokes, 1911 Horst, Carl, Die Architektur der deutschen Renais- sance, Berlin, 1928

Mather, Frank J., Jr., Western European Painting of the Renaissance, Holt, 1939 Panofsky, Erwin, Albrecht Diirer , 2 vols., Prince- ton University Press, 1943 Parker, Karl T., The Drawings of Hans Holbein in the Collection of His Majesty the King at Windsor Castle, Phaidon ed., Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1945

Pollard, Alfred W., Fine Books, Putnam, 19x2 Reinhardt, Hans, Holbein, tr. by Prudence Montagu-Pollock, Hyperion Press, 1938 Taylor, H. O., Thought and Expression in the Sixteenth Century, 2d ed. rev., 2 vols., Mac- millan, 1930

Tietze, H. and Tietze-Conrat, E., Kritisches Ver- zeichnis der Werke Albrecht Diirers, 2 vols., Basel and Leipzig, 1937

Wolfflin, Heinrich, Principles of Art History, tr. by M. D. Hottinger, Holt, 1932 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

32

SPANISH ART

(fifteenth to nineteenth century)

S PAIN, because of its geographical position and the mountainous char- acter of its territory, is more isolated than most of the other countries of Europe. Yet it has been particularly the prey of the foreign conqueror — Roman, Goth, and Moor — and of foreign influences, from Flanders, Italy, France, and the Near East. The coming of the Moor and his long residence in the peninsula were a provocation to the Christians, whose long struggle against the infidels, combined with native con- servatism, made them grim fighters for the faith and severe dealers with all forms of heresy. The Church, of a con- servative type and with an overzealous priesthood, has always been a dominat- ing power in Spain. Hence the Inquisi- tion could flourish in Spain as in no other country of Europe. This constant struggle and religious fervor made the Spaniard brutal and fanatical on the one hand and emotional and mystical on the other.

It was not until after the fall of Gra- nada in 1492 that any semblance of

unity in the peninsula was possible. By the sixteenth century, largely through marriage and inheritance, Spain had become a first-rate power, holding large sections of Europe in fief and acquiring great wealth through its newly discov- ered possessions in America. Through Seville, the trade center of southern Spain, flowed gold and silver from the New World. Here, too, nature was less austere than in the barren, mountain- ous plateaus of the central part of the peninsula. The warm sunshine, the fer- tile soil, and the romantic temperament were more conducive to geniality. Southern and eastern Spain were also closer to Italy because of possessions in Naples and Sicily, and the great com- mercial seaports carried on a brisk trade with the East. But constant wars, mis- management, and shortsighted policies controlled by an intolerant Church rap- idly exhausted Spain’s wealth. Its re- ligious fanaticism led to the expulsion, in 1609, of the Mudejares and the Mo- riscos, and deprived the country of its chief industrial class and its most skillful

SPANISH ART

555

[a] University of Salamanca. Portal and detail of the lowest zone, showing plateresque ornament with a portrait medallion of Ferdinand and Isabella, c. 1530 ,

craftsmen, thus crippling the nation both economically and artistically. By the beginning of the seventeenth cen- tury the greatest days of Spain were past.

ARCHITECTURE

AND SCULPTURE

Spain, like other European countries, accepted the influence of the Renais- sance upon its architecture, adapting it to local conditions and bringing about an ingenious fusing of it with the native style, especially in the matter of orna- ment. In the early Renaissance, when the continuity of the Gothic tradition in structure was still unbroken, a new spirit revealed itself in the plateresque

style , 1 which is well illustrated by the Town Hall of Seville and by the entrance of the University of Salamanca (Fig. 555A) . Plateresque ornament was usually con- centrated about the doors and windows and its decorative value increased by the plain surfaces that surrounded it. At the Salamanca entrance a richly dec- orated panel rises above the double portal. The ornament is arranged in three zones separated by double string- courses and crowned by an elaborate cresting. Engaged clustered shafts frame the panel and furnish the needed ver- tical lines. The carvings increase in depth and boldness as they rise and are

1 A name derived from platero, a silversmith, and applied to the style because of the delicate execution of its ornament.

556

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] EscoriaL Near Madrid. Juan Bautista de Toledo and Juan de Herrera , architects. 1563-84.. The building is a combination of monastery, church, palace, and tomb.

broken by portrait medallions, heraldic emblems, and a sculptured group. The motifs include putti, masks, and gro- tesques, and predominantly the rinceau, showing an influence from Italy. More typically Spanish is the ornament of the Archiepiscopal Palace at Alcala. The walls of the patio (the open court) give one the impression of richness and quiet taste. At first sight they appear to be rusticated, but on close inspection are found to be carved in low relief with animals, birds, masks, griffins, and putti expressed in vigorous movement that is characteristically Spanish,

The plateresque was the most original accomplishment of the period, and its short life of only about half a century was due to external causes. It was still vigorous and Spontaneous when Philip II came to the throne in 1556. But it was too imaginative, too exuber- ant, too emphatic in its ornament, to please that austere, morose monarch. So, by royal order, a cold, unadorned classic ideal was imposed upon Spain, and the warm, typical Spanish style

gave way to a grim and solemn majesty exemplified by the Escorial (Fig. 556A), a huge, somber structure comprising church, monastery, and buildings of state. It was the work of Juan de He- rrera (1530-1597) who set in this church a type that was to dominate not only in Spain but in the Hispanic colonies in the Americas as well: central in plan, often with an elongated nave, with a dome over the crossing and twin towers flanking the facade.

The severity of this Herreran style, however, did not appeal to the Spanish people, who turned to the rising ba- roque as a style more expressive of their native temperament, their love of lux- urious ornament, and their religious zeal. The baroque infused the static Herreran style with movement and lux- urious detail, particularly about the portals on the exterior and the altars in the interior, and under the influence of Jos6 Churriguera (1650-1723) reached a climax of elaboration known as the ultrabaroque or the Churrigueresque.

Of prime importance in this style was

SPANISH ART

557

the retable, or altar screen, developed in Spain to a size and a magnificence met nowhere else in Europe. Its origin was in the simple altarpiece. But the native love of splendor and decoration and the extreme native religiosity seemed to pour itself forth in expanding the altarpiece until it spanned the bay or the nave and lifted its crest up into the vaulting. Sometimes it was carved of stone, more frequently of wood; in- variably it was gorgeously painted and gilded, thus furnishing the richest pos- sible background for the altar. In the Retable of the Seville Cathedral (Fig. 557 a) vertical shafts and horizontal bands

divide the space into panels with elab- orately carved niches and figure sculp- ture. The motifs are chiefly Gothic, with an intermingling of Moorish. With the coming of the ultrabaroque, however, the retable abandoned the division into panels and became an area filled with never-ending movement, a surface ex- cessively rich in gilded carvings, paint- ings, and highly realistic polychrome sculpture. The impression of overrich- ness with no contrasting reposeful areas perhaps finds partial compensation in the position of the retable in a spacious church with unadorned surfaces and dim light.

RENAISSANCE ART

[aj Berruguete. St. Peter. 1543. From the choir stalls of Toledo Cathedral.

[b] Pedro de Mena. St. Francis. Wood. Toledo Cathedral.

Spanish sculpture is definitely allied to architecture, either as architectural sculpture or as religious equipment. Wood was always a popular material with Spanish sculptors, being plentiful and cheap and offering a good surface for the painting, which was considered to be of equal importance with the carv- ing. Well-known painters were em- ployed for this part of the work and spe- cialists developed, such as flesh painters, drapery-painters, and gold-painters.

The advent of Italian influence is illustrated by Alonso Berruguete (about 1 486- 1561), who studied in Rome not only sculpture but architecture and painting, was a pupil of Michelangelo, and on his return to Spain produced a melodramatic Michelangelesque style in which the controlled movements of the Italian were transformed into uncontrolled contortions that suited the Spanish love of realism and intense emotionalism. Somewhat less emotional

SPANISH ART

559

[a] Custodia. Restored. Gold and [b] Reja. Of hammered iron, gilded. H. 21 ft. silver. 1513. Cordova, 1518-33. Seville Cathedral.

than some is the Saint Peter (Fig. 558A), though even in this figure there is a brittle tenseness in the lean, almost skeleton-like hands and feet and the ex- pressive face. The drapery sweeps about the figure in massive folds, their broad simplicity accentuating the emaciation of the body. This high relief is a detail from one of the elaborate choir stalls which, like the retable, were a part of the church equipment that the sculptors carved lavishly.

The fervid piety of the Spaniard and his love of realism often led him to ex- tremes, as in a wholly naturalistic poly- chromy, the use of actual hair and garments on figures, and glass tears. Restrained, by comparison, yet fervid in its emotional appeal, is the Saint Francis (Fig, 558s) of Pedro de Mena (1628-1688). The long monastic robe and hood completely clothe the quiet figure, and frame a face which in its expression of asceticism is typically

RENAISSANCE ART

560

Spanish. The compact cylindrical shape, the deeply cut hood, and the manner of the carving are peculiarly indicative of the material, wood.

METALWORK, LEATHERWORK,

WOODWORK, CERAMICS

Another artist who contributed to the richness of the church was the metal- worker. Spain was rich in mines of gold, silver, iron, and jewels that supplied it with material even before the vast re- sources of America were opened to it. An important contribution of the silver- smith, the plater 0 , was the custodia^ the large templelike receptacle that con- tained the monstrance and was carried in processions. The custodias made be- fore the Renaissance illustrate well the Spanish love of ornament (Fig. 559A.). From a polygonal base this gold and silver structure — for the design is pri- marily architectural — rises lightly and delicately, gradually diminishing in cir- cumference. It is all decoration — re- liefs with representations of both sacred and secular subjects, figure work, and Gothic ornament, all executed with great technical skill. Whether or not overloading with ornament is ever justi- fiable, here it is done with a fairylike grace that almost disarms criticism.

The ironworker too attained the high- est skill, especially in the reja y or grille, which enclosed a chapel or altar in such a way that it could protect the treasures within and still leave them visible. To make such a grille it was necessary for the craftsman not only to work his ma- terial dexterously but also to have a sense of architectural fitness in his de- sign. The Reja of the Capilla Mayor (Fig. 559 B ) of the Seville Cathedral reaching from pier to pier, encloses the altar and its retable (Fig. 557A), and appears “ glittering in the dim light like vast bits of gold lace heavy enough to stand of themselves on edge.” Together with the

rich colorful retable, it makes an en- semble of great splendor. The design is arranged in two stages, with decorative borders and a cresting. Vertically the reja is separated into five panels, the central one wider than the others. The vertical shafts on the lower stage are colonnettes covered with delicate reliefs reminiscent of silverwork, and carrying capitals; in the second tier they are carved balusters, and in the cresting, candelabra. In the decorative borders the chief motif is the scroll containing figures; the intervening space is filled with the typically Renaissance rinceau; similar motifs appear in the cresting with flying angels and cherub heads. The artistry of such a reja consists of the happy balance of vertical and hori- zontal lines; great richness of detail held in strict subordination to the main lines of the design; the architectural fitness of the design; the fitness of the material for the purpose; and the visible evi- dences of the hammer and tongs on the material when in a tractable state, and of the chisel when it is hard.

Besides the metalworkers, the crafts- men in leather, the woodworkers, and the potters added notes of color and texture to the stone and stucco build- ings, more particularly in domestic and civic buildings. The leatherworkers of Cordova provided sumptuous painted and gilded leathers for hangings, cush- ions, furniture, and coverings for chests. The leather was moistened, and the de- signs were worked up in relief like re- pousse by means of molds, the details added by engraving, and color applied — red, green, blue, black, and white. If silver or gold was used, the sheet metal was applied with oil sizing to the leather before the relief was stamped, so that the silver or gold relief stood out against the natural color of the leather or the brighter pigments. The Spanish love of color, stimulated by trade contacts with the East and by the

SPANISH ART

[a] MudSjar Wood Ceiling. Archbishop's Palace , Alcald. 14th cent. ( Moreno )

long presence of the Arabs in the penin- tradition of the Arabs, were often of

sula, found a means of satisfaction in interlacing geometric pattern or ara-

polychrome woodwork and tiles. The besque, or of animal and figure motifs

Mudej ares were expert workers in wood -— all painted in vivid colors on tin

and perhaps their supreme accomplish- enamel with a spontaneous dashing

ment, besides their fine furniture, is quality. Climatic conditions favored a

found in their ceilings, which were wide use of this cool material for in-

sometimes simply crossbeamed, some- tenors (Fig, 562 a)« The Hispano-Mo-

times coffered, or open-raftered, or resque pottery, which included plates,

three-planed, or of segments that simu- bowls, and jars with foliate and heraldic

lated a dome. They were painted, decorations painted in an exuberant

gilded, carved largely with Moorish colorful style and often heightened with

geometric ornament, and frequently luster, constituted a great industry in

served as the focal point of a room the Mediterranean coastal provinces,

(Fig. 56 1 a). especially in Malaga and Valencia, and

Balancing this colorful richness above, furnished the commercial cities with one

in a stone or stucco room with few open- of their important articles of trade,

ings, were tapestries and colored tiles Cobalt and manganese on white enamel

below, or simple massive furniture with combined with a golden or iridescent

upholstery and cushions of sumptuously luster, in designs that maintain surface

gilded and painted leather. The tilings, continuity, produce a decoration that is

reflecting the influence of the ceramic highly colorful and peculiarly Spanish.

562 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] House at Sitjes {Barcelona) . A typical Catalan interior.

In Spain as in Italy, all the arts were closely interwoven, for the artists were versatile craftsmen, members of the trade guilds. “The formula of admis- sion to a Spanish brotherhood was very quaint in its punctilious and precise severity. . . . It was required that the candidate for admission should be a silversmith, married in conformity with the canons of the church, a man well spoken of among his neighbors, and not a recent convert to the Christian faith. The day prescribed for choosing or re- jecting him was that which was con- secrated to Saint John the Baptist, coinciding with the festival of Saint Eligius or San Loy, ‘the patron and representative 5 of silversmiths, who in life had been a silversmith himself .” 1 We hear of Berruguete assisting in the

1 Leonard Williams, Arts and Crafts of Older Spain, McClurg, 1908, 3 vols., Vol. Ill, p. 222.

decoration of the palace at Alcala, carv- ing wooden panels for the choir stalls at Toledo, as well as making marble tombs for counts and cardinals and statues for altarpieces. Juan de Arfe is equally famous for the delicate work- manship of his silver custodias and for his bronze sepulchral statue of Don Cristobal. The famous makers of iron grilles were sculptors and architects as well.

PAINTING

A very close interrelationship and unity of style existed among the build- ers, the sculptors, and the various crafts- men, as we have seen. Spanish painting, on the other hand, seems more like sporadic outbursts in the hands of strong individuals, often working in alien tra- ditions, rather than a normally evolving

SPANISH ART 563

national expression. Before the sixteenth century locally differentiated groups of painters produced miniatures, frescoes (for Spanish churches, like Italian, pro- vided large wall areas), and panels, largely religious, in a medieval style that was strongly Byzantine. They were painted in tempera with a lavish use of gold and frequently with details molded in relief in the gesso, and in their dra- matic quality and grim realism are per- haps the most truly Spanish paintings. Foreign influence, however, infiltrated, now from Siena by way of Avignon, now from Flanders, now from France; and in the late fourteenth century and the fifteenth there evolved in Spain a late-Gothic style which is difficult to differentiate from that of Flanders, France, or Italy. Because of its lack of local characteristics this style of paint- ing, which spread over large parts of Europe because of close communica- tions and the journeying of artists, is sometimes called the international style.

In the sixteenth century, when Spain reached its zenith under Charles V and Philip II, Italian influence became stronger, partly because of the close political connection between the two countries and partly because of Charles’s patronage of Titian and the large im- portation of Italian paintings to Ma- drid. Valencia, closely connected with Naples, produced painters who worked in that city with Caravaggio and other Tenebrists and through whom the strong chiaroscuro, limited color, and realism of those painters were trans- mitted to Spain. The forceful Jusepe de Ribera (1588-1652) exemplifies this group. His restless organization in depth, his violent contrasts of light and dark, often meeting with sharp edges, and his tense realistic drawing fittingly express his often violent sub- ject matter — such as martyrdoms — and appealed to the piously fervid, if not morbid, element in Spanish life.

[a] Murillo. Immaculate Conception. 1655-65. Prado, Madrid.

More attuned to the warmly luxuri- ant and colorful plain of Andalusia, centering in Seville, were the paintings of Bartolome Esteban Murillo (1618— 1682). Despite a too-frequent soft, senti- mental prettiness, Murillo revealed a technical ability in creating a surface of vibrating color; in bathing the canvas in a delicate glowing light; and in one or two of his Immaculate Conceptions • — the most popular subject matter of An- dalusia — an organizing power of some strength (Fig. 56 3 a).

On the stark plateau of northern Spain, in the meantime, had arisen two

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] El Greco. Assumption of the Virgin. 1577. Art Institute of Chicago. ( Art Institute) The analysis shows the organization in space of cylindrical and cubical volumes.

Virgin (Fig. 564A) . Some of the figures, in particular that of the kneeling Dis- ciple, in pose and drawing suggest Michelangelo, and the composition ob- viously is based upon Titian’s painting of the same subject, though the three- dimensional baroque organization is close to Tintoretto. The panel is divided into two parts. Below, the Disciples are grouped about the empty tomb in a circle from which, above, the Virgin is rising in a floating, slightly spiraling movement, which nothing impedes but which, on the contrary, every detail ac- centuates: the sharp point of the sar- cophagus lid, the break in the circle of Disciples, the uplifted hands, the horns of the crescent moon, the long slashes

Of Spain’s greatest painters — ■ El Greco and Velasquez. In Toledo Domenico Theotocopuli, known as El Greco, “The Greek” (1541-1614), found a congenial home. His origin, highly important for an understanding of his art, appears to have been in a Greek — that is, a By- zantine — family long established in Crete; and his training, in Byzantine art of the second Golden Age, at Cretan monasteries. When a young man he sailed for Italy; after a few years in Venice and Rome he left, for some un- known reason, for Spain, where he spent the rest of his life at Toledo.

A double, and almost irreconcilable basis — late Italian and Byzantine — is evident in his early Assumption of the

SPANISH ART

[a] El Greco . Burial of the Count of Orgaz- c. 1584. Santo Tomb , Toledo, [Anderson)

of light on the Virgin’s robe. As she rises she is surrounded by a group of angels whose lightness and agitation contrast with the solidity of the firmly rooted figures below. As surface pattern, sharp triangles furnish the dominant motif, marked chiefly by the sharp edges where color areas meet. For everywhere the eye is guided by abrupt transitions from color to color, from light to dark* This sharp cutting of areas and planes, often by the juxtaposition of comple- mentary colors, boldly at variance with the Venetian practice of soft transitions, enveloping atmosphere, and dominant tonality, is evidence of El Greco’s By- zantine training in building forms Out of color and light and integrating them into a design that by its own abstract power makes forceful the inner signif-

icance of the incident pictured. 1

In the Burial of the Count of Orgaz (Fig. 565A), we find a like division of a large curved panel into two parts, the one devoted to the scene upon earth, the other to that in heaven. As the priest is reading the service, Saint Stephen and Saint Augustine miraculously appear clad in gorgeous vestments, to take charge of the burial. The three figures form a compact circular group about which are massed, at the right, the priest who is reading the service, clad in a robe stiff with rich embroidery and

1 To see the logical conclusion, of this point of view applied to this subject matter, see the late Assumption (San Vincente, Toledo), in which the forms are completely etherealized in an attempt to objectify the ultimate essence in an ecstatic swirl of unearthly light and color.

566 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] El Greco. Pentecost. 1604.-14. Prado , Madrid. (Anderson)

holding a jeweled gold cross, and beside him another of the clergy, in a filmy robe, standing with outstretched hands, transfixed by the vision above; at the left in balanced position, two monks, wondering at the miracle; and behind them a row of mourners dressed in black robes, with lacy ruffs about the neck and wrists. There is much solid painting in this lower group, and fine characterizations in the highly indi-

vidual portraits, which appear realistic in comparison with the painting above. A restrained mood suffuses the group, though the design is somewhat agitated in its sharp angles and dynamic con- trasts of light and dark, in the rapid jagged movement of the ruffs and in the long sensitive fingers, and in the streaks of the filmy robe and of the torches, which help, with the drab color, to unite the two dissimilar parts. Above, swift lines leap up to the crown of the arch, creating an impression of tremen- dous movement and intense emotion. Here is the scene of the reception of the soul of the Count into heaven. Every- where is restless movement, expressed by the same means that we saw in the Assumption — sharp cutting of planes, and high lights sharply picked out against the dark background with the startling effect of lightning.

As El Greco’s emotional intensity be- came more concentrated, his design be- came more clearly abstract. His palette was often restricted, as in the View of Toledo (Fig. 567A), in which the same method of constructing forms out of light and color is applied to landscape. 1 In the Pentecost (Fig. 566A), on the con- trary, the color is rich and varied. This panel is high and very narrow, curved at the top. At the head of a stairway is the Virgin seated, and grouped about her are the Disciples and the other two Marys, upon whom the Holy Spirit, symbolized by the dove, is descending in tongues of fire. The spectator is car- ried at once into that realm of fiery emotion which the group as a whole is experiencing. The figures form a rec- tangle enclosing a triangle made of the two foreground figures and the Virgin, and its upper edge is broken by the up- lifted arm, which also connects the group with the effective space above that emphasizes the descent of the Spirit

1 Compare Giorgione’s treatment of a similar theme. : ■

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567

[a] El Greco. View of Toledo. 1600-10. Metro- politan Museum of Art, Mew York City. ( Metro- politan Museum )

and is singularly suggestive of the meet- ing-place of the uplifted spirit of man with the descending spirit of the divine. At the same time the group exists in space, with agitated rhythms that move inward and outward in true baroque fashion. Visible line has practically ceased to exist. Light and color remain as organizing means and are used not naturalistically to represent form — its volume, structure, texture, and sur- rounding atmosphere; that is, an illusion of visual perception — but as some- thing eerie, imaginative, entirely non- naturalistic, as a means of “rendering visible the mysteries of the supra-natu- ral world.” Thus the figures are signif- icant partly for their representational values but largely as units in an abstract design, and hence are elongated or dis- torted, when necessary, to fulfill their function in the framework of light and color whose purpose is the expression

of an ecstatic emotional experience. And in this mystic quality El Greco is at home in the intensely religious Spain of the Inquisition.

In Diego Velasquez (1599-1660), on the other hand, we perceive a cool, ob- jective, impersonal attitude toward vis- ual appearance. In his Surrender of Breda 1 (Prado) Justin of Nassau, the Flemish governor, is handing to Spinola the keys of the town. The two commanders, elab- orately dressed for the occasion and ac- companied by their retinues, occupy the foreground against a hazy back- ground of lowland country with march- ing troops, winding rivers, and smoke

1 During the struggle between Spain and the Netherlands in the seventeenth century, the town of Breda, a key to Flanders, was still in possession of the Flemish. To the Marquis of Spinola the Spanish king Philip II had said, “Spinola, you must take Breda!” After a siege that was brilliant alike for defense and offense, the town surrendered.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Velasquez . Inno- cent X. 1650. Doria Gallery, Rome. (. Ander- son )

from conflagrations. Such an organiza- tion provided an opportunity to mass clear warm colors and varying textures against cool blue-greens with a deco- rative, tapestry like effect. While each figure is objectively and naturalistically seen, the basic organization of repeated verticals, horizontals, and prominent diagonal in the central group and the flag, through which play wavelike move- ments in the men and horses, combined with the color organization — these raise it above the level of a mere his- torical document.

As court painter to Philip IV, Velas- quez spent a large part of his life re- cording, in his cool, detached way, the objective appearance of this rigidly con- ventional royal household, with little interpretation "but with the keenest eye for selecting what was important for

pictorial expression and with a control of paint to secure exactly the desired effect. Through acquaintance, while in Italy, with the work of Caravaggio and through contact with Ribera, he learned something of the potentialities of a very limited palette, black and neutrals, as is evident in many of his portraits, which are subtle harmonies of grays and blacks.

The Maids of Honor (Fig. 569A) , which summarizes Vel&squez’ attack upon spatial problems, represents an appar- ently casual interior scene in which the little Infanta Margarita, accompanied by her maids of honor, by dwarfs and a dog for amusement, is posing for her portrait which Velasquez himself is painting on a large canvas at the left. In the background at an open door the grand marshal of the palace is pushing

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569

[a] Velasquez • Maids of Honor. 1656-57. Prado , Madrid. (. Ander- son )

aside a curtain; the king and queen stand in the same position as we, the spectators, and their likeness is reflected in the mirror in the background. Be- hind the casualness of this intimate scene is an organization built around the Infanta, upon whom the light falls from the window at the right and in relation to whom each figure takes its place in space, producing an impression of extraordinary reality of the space from the princess to the out-of-door light behind the marshal and from the floor to the lofty ceiling. This intense reality of the space is partly the result of a precise observation and the record- ing in pigment of the exact amount of light that each object receives and the effect of the light upon the distinctness of the form and its contours. Yet com- bined with and dominating this accu- racy in the observance of values are the

relationships among the different parts. The foreground group forms an S-curve in depth from the dog to the painter, and it is filled with bright light, color, and movement painted in dashing strokes, now of thin pigment, now of thick, which define exactly each texture and quality of light. This vivacious group is played off against a large quiet spaciousness of gray-green with quietly proportioned rectangles repeated on the walls, each detail of which is toned as precisely as the foreground group. And the two parts, which act as a foil to each other, are united by the envelop- ing light and also by the prominent edge of the canvas at the left.

Out of the extravagant costumes of the court Velasquez created exquisite harmonies of silvery gray, black, and rose and of varying textures put on in light, skillfully calculated strokes which

57 °

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Goya. Portrait of His Wife. 1811-14. Prado, Madrid. (Anderson)

blend the tones and suggest rather than depict the forms. The portraits of the Princesses Margarita and Marianna (Prado) illustrate this.

In painting these royal portraits, whatever interpretation he made or whatever emotional reaction he ex- perienced, Velasquez kept to himself. Royalty, courtliness of the most rigid character, it was his task to portray, not individual personality. But the portrait of Innocent X (Fig. 568A) leads us to sus- pect that there might have been more interpretation had the painter been free to express it. For in this Roman portrait there is not only objective reality in its tersest essentials, an arresting design of curves and angles, a masterly use of pigment in a play upon reds and whites in contrasting textures of satin, lace, velvet, and metals, but also a piercing penetration and forceful presentation of a personality.

After the seventeenth century there is little that is noteworthy in Spanish painting until it flames up once more in Francisco Goya (1746-1828), who for a considerable part of his life was the favorite painter of the Spanish court. In the Family of Charles IV (Fig. 571 a) we see Goya as realistic as Velasquez; but in contrast to Velasquez’ imper- sonal poise, Goya paints into these por- traits his high scorn of this sham court degenerate in both body and mind. Prominent in the foreground is Charles, much bedecked with regalia, “the pom- pous futility of a king,” and his queen Maria Luisa, masterful and dominat- ing, surrounded by the other members of the royal family, whose elegance of costume only heightens their weak- ness. At the left in the background stands the painter at his canvas. How an artist who was so fearless of truth and so bold in his expression of it could be tolerated at such a court is a puzzle. Either Charles was too stupid to un- derstand or he was too lazy to resent. Besides the caustic satire of the por- trait, we here discern Goya’s power to paint exquisitely silks, jewels, velvets, and lace, each with a brush stroke suitable to the texture represented and productive of a delicately colorful vi- brating surface. The Spatial problem here is not unlike that of Velasquez in the Maids of Honor (Fig. 569A). “There are no lines in nature,” said Goya, “only lighted forms and forms which are in the shadow, planes which project and planes which recede.” So each figure in the group takes its own place backward or forward in relation to its neighbor; and the group as a unit, filled with atmosphere, with varying lights and shadows which play over the richly colored textures, is set off against the quiet spaciousness of the room.

A contrasting characterization, as warm in its sympathy as the royal por- trait was bitter in its satire, we find in the Portrait of Ills Wife (Fig. 5 70 a), who

is sitting stiffly with conventional pro- priety, her gloved hands folded over her lap. The sharp triangles of the figure and the ground are opposed to the rounding motifs of the head, the shoul- der, and the back of the chair. Over the surfaces of the solidly realized figure a light movement runs through the deli- cately painted hair, the transparent shawl, and the stuffs of the dress and upholstery.

Another example of sheer beauty of painting as painting is the Maja Nude (Prado), a masterly integration of light, dark, color, and texture. The area of light which cuts diagonally across the panel is composed of the solidly built and softly rounding figure, with its warm blended flesh tones, set over

against the cool blue- white filmy pil- lows and sheet, which contrast also in texture and angular motifs. This light area, standing out strongly against the dark color of the blue couch and the flat neutral ground, draws the eye to concentrate upon it. Compare, for con- trast, the effect of the landscape back- ground in Giorgione’s Venus.

Goya’s life falls into the period not only of the rapid decay of Spain but also of the Napoleonic Wars, whose grim horror he depicts and protests against in his etchings The Disasters of War and in such a painting as The Shoot- ing of the Rebels of May 3, 1808 (Fig. 572 a), in which the whole organic structure is peculiarly fitting to the theme. The scene cuts diagonally into space from

SPANISH ART

[a] Goya. Shooting of the Rebels of May 3, 1808 . Prado, Madrid. {Anderson)

the lower left-hand corner; on the right, the firing squad, in regular file, parallels the irregularly grouped terrified vic- tims, upon whom the light from the lantern falls directly, producing an in- tensely lighted area around which sweeps the dark area of the soldiers, the town, and the sky. The striding move- ment of the soldiers, their shadows, and the light on their weapons carry the eye to the central figure of the victims, whose passionate gesture forms a sharp triangular motif that recurs endlessly throughout the canvas and is accentu- ated by the bold contrasts of light and dark. Color too contributes fittingly to the grimness. For Goya used neutral grays and browns with a splash of red in the pool of blood.

Goya’s insight into the life about him and his fearlessness in expressing it with

biting comment is clear in the Caprices. In this series he pictures with stinging satire the weakness of the State, the greed and corruption of the Church, the hypocrisies of the people, and the social rottenness. In the foreground of Why Hide Them? (Fig. 5 73 a) , a miser with snarling face tightly clutches his money bags, bending over them as if to protect them from the four men who stand laughing at him. He is probably one of the clergy, for the great wealth and greed of the Church at that time were commonly known. Goya’s draftsman- ship is as incisive as his satire is biting. With a few economical lines and a dy- namic patterning of black and white he has trenchantly revealed the charac- ters and has set forth the significance of the situation with amazing lucidity and startling power.

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573

SUMMARY

The Spanish “national temperament, somber as it is, is a baroque tempera- ment, full of fancies and extravagances, warlike, religious to the verge of super- stition, yet inconsequential, and in Spain even the baroque style, carried to a degree of ornateness unparalleled elsewhere in Europe, compels admira- tion for its dignity and splendor.” 1 The exuberant love of ornament was held in restraint in the short-lived plater- esque and Herreran styles but burst forth in the baroque and Churriguer- esque retables, choir stalls, metalwork, and vestments, in the creation of which the Spaniard was extravagantly lavish, of both time and material. At the same time he was never free to develop a normal self-expression, limited as he was by an intolerant Church and a rigid court, and with his energy occupied in assimilating or combating aliens and alien influences. Particularly true is this in the field of painting. However, in El Greco’s construction of form in light and color; in Velasquez’ detached ob- servation of life, his limited palette, and his abrupt brush work combined with subtle niceties of values to organize space; and in Goya’s trenchant satire, enhanced by a consistently dynamic form, whether in pigment or in the graphic arts — in the work of these masters at least Spanish painting played a brilliant role in the evolution of paint- ing in Europe.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adams, Nicholson B., The Heritage of Spain , Holt, 1943

Barber, E. A., Hispano-Moresque Pottery in the Collection of the Hispanic Society of America, Hispanic Society of America, 1915

1 R. R. Tatlock, ed., Spanish Art, London, 1927, p. 97 (Burlington Magazine Monograph).

[a] Goya. Caprice: “Why Hide Them?” ( Calvert )

Beruete y Moret, Aureliano dc, Goya as a Portrait Painter, tr. by Selwyn Brinton, Houghton Mifflin, 1922

School of Madrid, tr. by Mrs.

Stuart Erskine, Scribner, 1909

— — ~ Spanish Painting, ed. by Geoffrey

Holme, Lane, 1921

Byne, Arthur, and Mildred, Decorated. Wooden Ceilings in Spain, Putnam, 1920

— Spanish Architecture of the Sixteenth

Century, Putnam, 1917

— — : — Spanish Interiors and Furniture , 3

vols., Helburn, 1921-25

Spanish Ironwork, Hispanic Society

of America, 1915

Byron, Robert, and Talbot Rice, David, The Birth of Western Painting, Knopf, 1931 Gaffin, G. H., The Story of Spanish Painting, Century, 1910

Calvert, A. F., Sculpture in Spain, Lane, 1912 Dieulafay, M, A., Art in Spain and Portugal, Scribner, 1913

Goldscheider, Ludwig, El Greco, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1938 Goya, Francisco, The Complete Etchings of Goya, foreword by Aldous Huxley, Grown, 1943 Gudiol, Jos6, Goya, Plyperion Press, c. 1941 Hagen, Oskar F. L., Patterns and Principles: of Spanish Art, University of Wisconsin Press, 1943

King, G. G., Mudijar, Longmans, Green, 1927

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Lafuente, Enrique, ed., The Paintings and Draw- ings of Velasquez,, Phaidon ed., Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1944

Legendre, M., and Hartmann, A., Domenikos Theotokopoulos Called El Greco, Hyperion Press, 1937

Mather, Frank J., Jr., Western European Painting of the Renaissance, Holt, 1939

Meier-Graefe, Julius, The Spanish Journey, tr. by John Holroyd-Reece, Harcourt, Brace,

1927

Munro, Thomas, Great Pictures of Europe, Coward-McCann, 1930

.Notes Hispanic , Hispanic Society of America, 1942-45

Peers, E. A., ed., Spain: A Companion to Spanish Studies, Dodd, Mead, 1929

Post, G. R., History of Spanish Painting, 3 vols., Harvard U niversity Press, x 930

Rutter, F. V. P., El Greco, Weyhe, 1930

Stevenson, R. A. M., Velasquez , Macmillan, 1899

Stokes, Hugh, Francisco Goya, Putnam, 1914

Tatlock, R. R., ed., Spanish Art, Weyhe, 1927 (Burlington Magazine Monograph)

Trapier, Elizabeth du Gue, Hispanic Notes and Monographs, Catalogue of Paintings in the Collection of the Hispanic Society of America, 4 vols., Hispanic Society of America, 1929- 32

Tyler, Royall, Spain: Study of Her Life and Arts, Kennedy, 1909

Van de Put, Albert, Hispano-Moresque Ware of the XV. Century, London, 1904

Weisbach, Werner, Spanish Baroque Art, Mac- millan, 1941

Whittlesey, Austin, The Renaissance Architecture of Central and Northern Spain, Architectural Book Publishing Company, 1 920 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

33

DUTCH ART

(SIXTEENTH TO SEVENTEENTH century)

T HE country now commonly called Holland constituted the northern and eastern part of the group of prov- inces known as the Lowlands or the Netherlands; Flanders occupied the southern and western part. There was a racial difference between the two, the Hollander being closer to the German, the Fleming to the French. Like Flan- ders, these northern provinces were the fief now of one lord and now of another. At the time of the religious and political struggle with Spain, however, the north- ern provinces, which had quite gen- erally accepted Protestantism, revolted from the Spanish crown, forming the nucleus of the modern Netherlands, whose independence was recognized by Spain in the Peace of Westphalia (1648). Under the early part of the Spanish rule

the Dutch, like the Flemish, had flour- ished. The East India Company had been formed and the discovery of the New World had opened up to them further opportunities for trade and col- onization. Their great commercial cities, such as Haarlem and Amsterdam, had thus been stimulated, and were rapidly acquiring great wealth. Life was not un- like that in the neighboring Flemish cities. Civic pride was strong, and super- vision by guilds and similar organiza- tions effective. 1

Religiously, however, there was a great difference. Protestantism gained

1 See G. B. Brown, ed., Rembrandt, Scribner, 1907, Chap. Ill, for a picture of Holland in the seventeenth century; also H. W. Van Loon, Life and Times of Rembrandt: R. v. R., Garden City Publishing Company, 1932.

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DUTCH ART

a strong hold among the Dutch and with its puritanical attitude toward art banned sculpture, religious pictures, pagan myths, and even historical sub- jects. As we think back over the art of the Middle Ages and of the Renaissance, we realize that to eliminate the religious subject means to eliminate most of the art and one of its chief motivations. What, then, was left for these wealthy Hollanders, under the stimulation of their recently won independence, their national pride, and their religious con- victions? Fromentin has answered the question thus: “A writer of our time, very enlightened in such matters, has wittily replied that such a people had but one thing to propose — a very- simple and bold thing, . . . and that was to require that they [the artists] should paint its portrait. This phrase says everything. Dutch painting, it is quickly perceived, was and could be only the portrait of Holland, its exterior image, faithful, exact, complete with no embellishment. Portraits of men and places, citizen habits, squares, streets, countryplaces, the sea and sky — such was to be, reduced to its primitive ele- ments, the programme followed by the Dutch school, and such it was from its first day to the day of its decline.” 1

PAINTING

Thus it came about that the Dutch painters pried into the pictorial possi- bilities of this everyday life, yet with an eye to their patrons, the middle-class burghers, who were acquiring wealth and position and wanted paintings to hang on the walls of their houses as an evidence of their prosperity, and also to enjoy, with their inherited appetite for realism, a copy of actual appearance. What the artists supplied was a com- promise, if it suited at all.

1 Eug&ne Fromentin, The Masters of Past Time, Dutton, 1913, p. 130.

[a] Hals. Laughing Cavalier. 1624. Wal- lace Collection , London .

In the field of portraiture Frans Hals (1580-1666) met the demand, at least for part of his life, through the sheer drive of his style, which combined a slashing directness in the use of pigment and a robust naturalism with a knack of terse characterization and a conta- gious spirit of laughter and jollity. Thus in the Laughing Cavalier (Fig. 575A) a self-confident soldier with a suggestion of bravado looks out at us with a di- rect glance while over his face ripples a momentary expression difficult to ana- lyze. The unbroken surfaces of the flar- ing black hat and of the cool blue-gray ground act as a foil to the ostentatious coat with its fine lace collar and cuffs, silk sash, and rich embroidery of warm red-browns and yellows, all dashed in with vigorous brush work. The simple pattern of sweeping curves and sharp angles, the color scheme, and the con- trast of cool quiet and warm vivacious areas are in harmony with the non- chalance and bravado of the subject.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Hals. The Archers of Saint Adrian . 1623-24. Frans Hals Museum , Haarlem. {Braun)

Momentary surface expression, caught in passing and frequently of a jovial na- ture, is characteristic of much of Hals’s work, and his technical methods are particularly suitable to his purpose. How much he could say by means of a few of his vigorous brush strokes the Toung Man with a Slouch Hat (Cassel) illustrates.

Hals painted many group portraits of civic organizations, a type of por- trait-painting popular in Holland. In those of The Archers of Saint Adrian at Haarlem (Fig. 5 76 a) and The Governors of the St. Elizabeth Hospital (Haarlem), he has so grouped the figures that each ' is equally visible and each head is an individualized portrait — otherwise the picture probably would not have been accepted. But the artist has managed to tie them into a loose pattern and to rely largely upon creating a vivacious surface by his vigorous painting of the textures of lace, velvet, satin, metal.

In Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669) we find an entirely different type of mind from that of Hals, a totally differ- ent method of using paint, and a refusal to compromise with the ideals of the Dutch burghers, who failed to grasp his imaginative conceptions and could not understand his formal means. The im- mediacy of effect in Hals and the clear literalness of some of his minor contem- poraries suited the current taste better.

Rembrandt’s portraits of the 1630’s, such as the Old Lady (National Gallery, London) or the Elizabeth Bas (Amster- dam), are precise, realistic descriptions with diffused lighting, though the group portrait The Anatomy Lesson (The Hague) already reveals a concentration upon light as the chief organizing element. By 1642, when Rembrandt painted The . Might Watch (Amsterdam), he had found his formal means in a highly individual use of light and color which was not understood by his patrons, who refused

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577

[a] Rembrandt. Young Girl at an Open Half- Door. 1645. Art Insti- tute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

to accept the picture, hooted at it, and brought the prosperous Rembrandt to ruin financially . 1

This personal use of light and dark reaches an early maturity in the Young Girl at an Open Half-Door (Fig. 577A) . Subject matter was of importance to Rembrandt, both its visual appearance and its inner significance. In this paint- ing the character of the form and the personality of the girl interest him equally. She is standing at a Dutch door with her hands resting on the lower part, and she faces the spectator directly, though her glance is averted to her right. She wears a tightly fitting bodice with a linen guimpe gathered

1 For an analysis which lucidly explains the artistic problem involved, see Munro, Great Pictures of Europe, pp. 267-69; then compare With Hals’s The Archers of St. Adrian.

closely about the throat, and a full skirt; about her neck is a double string of beads. Her youthful awkwardness rather than grace, and her shyness and reserve — which is not unfriendly, one judges from the suggestion of a smile about the mobile mouth — • Rembrandt has pictured with an appropriate simple directness. A brilliant illumination con- centrates upon the side of the face, one hand, and the wall behind the figure — against which the arm is sharply sil- houetted — and submerges the other parts in shadow. Glowing light and shadow envelop the figure and blur its outlines. The most subtle gradations of tone within a very few hues — reds, red-browns, and yellows — create a deep space, define the volume of the figure, and place it exactly in that space. Light, then, is Rembrandt’s basic means

578

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Rembrandt. Suppei at Emmaus. 1648. Louvre , Paris. Compare with Fig. 564A for a similar or- ganization in the lower part. ( Giraudon )

[b] Rembrandt. Man in a Gold Helmet, c. 1650. Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.

of expression, as line was Botticelli’s — a light, usually warm, that throbs with infinite variations, entirely opposite to the cold, darting, untoned light of El Greco. This light penetrates the shad- ows as well, for they too throb with color in infinite variations and subtle grada- tions and are as vibrant as are the highest lights.

The Supper at Emmaus (Fig. 578A) is also organized in space by the same means-light. Four men are grouped about a table, Christ in the center. The Disciple at the left sits with hands folded in adoration as he recognizes the guest; the one at the right has made a quick movement as recognition dawns, but remains transfixed as if still doubting; the stolid serving-boy hesitates, puzzled at the scene. The room is dim except for: the brilliant light that falls on the tablecloth and the face and hands of Christ, touches the hands of the Disciple at the left, and brings out the faces and hands of the two at the right. It plays

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579

[a] Rembrandt. Christ Healing the Sick, Called the Hundred Guilder Print, c. 1649, Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

upon surfaces — chairs, tablecloth, gar- ments, stone — bringing out their tex- tures. The highest light, about the figure of Christ, holds the eye to the center of interest and plays into the other figures, tying them into a psychological as well as a formal unity before it melts into the shadow. One sees here a typically baroque, asymmetrical balance (note the relation of' the central figure and the arch to the vertical axis of the panel) ; a strongly felt linear pattern of verticals, horizontals, curves, and a dy- namic diagonal, blurred, to be sure, by light; and a closely knit group of figures organized on a plane that swings around the rectangular table. All these visual elements are suffused with a warm vi- brant yellow relieved with cooler grays.

We may question here why, after what has been said about the aversion of the Dutch Protestants to representing

sacred themes, we have as the subject here an incident from the life of Christ, Rembrandt, as individual in religious thought as in artistic creed, evidently cared little for the dogmas of the times and the decrees of the Church. The fierce struggle of the Jesuits and the Calvinists did not trouble him, His rep- resentation of the Bible story was hu- man, in terms of contemporary Dutch life. Many of the religious paintings of the Italian Renaissance, with their splendor and idealism, were made at the command of the Church as out- ward manifestations of its power. In the baroque painters, the Church, in its attempt to stem the tide of the Reformation, became pompous and grandiloquent. How very simple and sincere then, in contrast, is Rembrandt’s everyday story told in the language of everyday man!

580

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Rembrandt. The Three Trees. Etching. 1643. Art Institute °f Chicago. {Art Institute )

Rembrandt’s highly subjective and imaginative use of light reaches a cul- mination in the late portraits. The Man in a Gold Helmet (Fig. 578B) is a pene- trating interpretation and a marvelous interplay of textures with the subtlest gradations of light. In the Portrait of an Old Woman (Leningrad) , a high light is concentrated upon the face, the ker- chief, and the hands, leaving the rest of the canvas an area of shifting dark. The bent figure combines with the chair into a curvilinear volume set in space, and makes a tranquil setting for the broadly modeled and highly lighted face and hands so eloquent of weariness. The significance of the picture lies not so much in its representation of some in- dividual as in its abstract expression of an emotion, like Michelangelo’s Nudes on the Sistine Ceiling. Carried still fur-

ther, almost to the point of disembodi- ment, is the last Self-Portrait (Munich) , in which a few roughly brushed-in strokes of light impress upon us unforgettably the satiric laugh at his own loneliness, despair, and apparent failure.

That line also appealed to Rem- brandt as a medium of expression is clear from his numerous etchings. His subject matter he took from the life around him — the landscape of Hol- land, the beggars of Amsterdam, peas- ants, and the common folk of all kinds — even when the title was religious, as in the Hundred Guilder Print (Fig. 579A) . 1 The center of interest here is the figure

1 The subject of the print 3s Christ Healing the Sick. Hundred Guilder Print is a title by which the print has been known since early in the eight- eenth century. It is probably derived from the price that the print brought at an auction sale.

DUTCH ART

581

[a] Pieter de Hooch. Pantry Door. H. 2J in. 1658. Rijksmuseum , Amsterdam. {Braun)

cf Christ, a concentrated mass of bril- liant light set against a dark ground. The group on the right, the sick ap- proaching to be healed, is strongly pictorial, due to the same kind of illu- mination that we have seen used in Rembrandt’s paintings. On the left, in the group of Pharisees, line alone — a few economical lines — expresses not only the essentials of form but a penetrat- ing characterization. Even more linear and more architecturally constructed is The Three Trees (Fig. 580A) , in which the trees, in the middle distance, rising at right angles from the flat plane which stretches to the low horizon and from the dark area of the foreground, lift their rounding masses of foliage against a clear vast expanse of light sky which succeeds a passing storm, represented by firm diagonals — a prime example of the dynamic effect of the diagonal when it appears in conjunction with verticals and horizontals.

Contemporary with Hals and Rem- brandt was a group of painters who were supplying the Dutch with another kind of small picture to hang on

[b] Ter Borch. The Concert. Berlin.

their walls, pictures of their homes, their courtyards, their streets, and their everyday activities. Genre, as subject matter for the painter, was infrequent 1 before these “Little Dutchmen” of the seventeenth century 2 not only popular- ized it but kept it on a high level of ar- tistic treatment. In the Pantry Door by Pieter de Hooch (Fig. 581 a), we are in one of these Dutch homes, and see a young woman just outside the pantry handing a small jug to a little girl. There is the usual beamed ceiling and tiled floor; in the room beyond, a chair, and above it a portrait near the half- open window where the light and air pour in, flooding the room and per- meating even the darker corners of the

1 Note Carpaccio’s Dream of Saint Ursula (Fig. 504A); Van Eyck’s Jan Amolfini and His Wife (Fig. 538A); Diirer’s Saint Jerome in His Study (Fig. 550A) ; and Velasquez’ Maids of Honor (Fig. 5 6 9 a).

2 Important in the group are Pieter de Hooch (1629-1677); Jan Steen (1626-1679); Gerard Ter Borch (1617-1681); Jan Vermeer (1632-

• 675); Jacob Ochtervelt (1634?- 1708?).

582

RENAISSANCE ART

1NNM

[a] Vermeer. A Toung Woman at a Casement. H. 18 in. c. 1664. Metro- politan Museum of Art, Mew Tork City. (. Metro- politan Museum)

foreground. There is nothing monu- mental, nothing of profound signifi- cance, about the picture but much that is quietly human. What interests us is the masterful way in which the artist makes us feel the interior. The bright outside light coming through the win- dows emphasizes, by contrast, the dim- mer light inside, and so true are the artist’s values here that we get a living impression of the air-filled space and distance. The two figures are placed effectively against the wall and break the almost monotonous angularity of the design.

The textures of various objects af- forded these painters opportunity to Create interesting surfaces. Ter Borch, for instance, shows extraordinary crafts- manship in the painting of lustrous satins and velvets, and heightens their quality by surrounding them with con- trasting hues and textures, and with

subtly modulated light organizes them into deep space (Fig. 581 b).

In Jan Vermeer of Delft we reach a climax of Dutch genre painting. In his Toung Woman at a Casement (Fig. 582 a) there is pictured an everyday scene of purely human significance; not merely an illusion of visual perception, but the organization of the elements of visual perception into a formal unity: the hu- man connotation, and the abstract form — neither the one nor the other alone, but a perfect union of the two. A young woman is standing at a partly open window by a table, one hand resting on the window, the other holding a pitcher* There is perfect poise and serenity in the picture and a feeling of great cool- ness and restfulness. The informal, asym- metrical design is based upon rectangles, in window, map, table, and still life, countered by the curves of the figure, the pitcher, and the basin; and upon

[a] Ruisdael. Swamp. Hermitage , Leningrad.

the interplay of various textures and — still life. Painters were seeing that

qualities of the materials represented: objects of everyday life offered great

smooth rigid glass and metal, stiffened possibilities for the expression of pure

linen, a thick rug that weighs down form constructed out of related shapes,

solidly. The light from the window falls colors, and textures, which had of itself

upon the wall with the subtlest grada- high esthetic significance apart from

tions of tone and fills the room, unify- any subject matter,

ing all objects with its generally blue In the field of landscape also the tonality. The dress is deep-blue; the Hollanders made a great contribution,

cloak thrown over the back of the chair in that they saw in their native land-

is lighter blue; blue plays through the scape, unidealized, as great possibilities

linen headdress and the window glass. for pictorial expression as in their

A cool white with infinite modulations homes. In the Swamp (Fig. 583A) of

covers the wall; the map and the rich Jacob van Ruisdael (i628?-r682), we

red rug on the table furnish comple- are looking across a marshy place in

mentary notes of warmth and strength. the woods, surrounded by great gnarled

The importance given the objects on trees whose trunks are reflected in the

the table in this as well as in other open stretch. Water plants fringe the

paintings by the “Little Dutchmen” in- edge of the swamp and float on its sur-

troduced a subject hitherto given but face; a duck flies off to the left where

little attention in the field of painting, two others are swimming; the light illu-

but soon to ‘assume a prominent role mines a great log half in the water, a

RENAISSANCE ART

584

slender birch sapling, and a gaunt oak- behind the trees the clouds roll up with an impression of movement in space. The calm and the stillness, tinged with melancholy, reveal the artist’s sympathy and intimacy with nature, which have enabled him to interpret rather than merely transcribe its appearance. De- spite an overattention to realistic detail, Ruisdael has massed his darks strongly at the corners, allowing the light and air to penetrate freely in the center; the high lights strike important accents and unify the scene. The color is som- ber, browns and greens predominating both in the light and in the shadow.

SUMMART

It is in the field of painting primarily, and that for a brief century only, that Holland’s creative activity produced magnificently and prolifically. The sturdy independent Dutch Protestants, who banned everything classical and Italian, made demands upon the paint- ers that produced, besides portraiture, a new subject matter — genre and inti- mate landscape — in which unpreten- tious scenes found artistic expression. The jovial dash of Hals suited them well, as did the small pictures of Dutch life made to adorn the walls of small houses. The Dutch failed, however, to understand their greatest painter, Rembrandt, who developed a highly personal style based on baroque organization in deep space and on his own individual use of light with subtle gradations within a narrow range of color. All the Dutch painters were superlative craftsmen, and had a ca- pacity to see everyday things as forms organized in space, as related and con-

trasted colors and textures, and not merely as visual perceptions to be faith- fully described.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baker, C. H. C., Dutch Painting of the Seventeenth Century, London, 1926

Bode, Wilhelm von, Great Masters of Dutch and Flemish Painting, tr. by M. L, Clarke, Scrib- ner, 1909

Bodkin, Thomas, The Paintings of Jan Vermeer , Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1940

Borenius, Tancred, Rembrandt , Selected Paintings , Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1942

Bredius, Abraham, Rembrandt Gemalde, Phaidon ed., Vienna, 1935

Caffin, C. H., The Story of Dutch Painting, Century, 1909

Coulton, G. G., Art and the Reformation , Knopf, 1928

Fromentin, Eug&ie, The Masters of Past Time, Dutton, 1913

Hagen, Oskar F. L., Art Epochs and Their Leaders, Scribner, 1927

Hind, A. M., A History of Engraving and Etching, 3d ed. rev., Houghton Mifflin, 1923

Rembrandt, Harvard University

Press, 1932

Holmes, C. J., Notes on the Art of Rembrandt, London, 1911

Laurie, A. P., Brush-work of Rembrandt and His School, Oxford University Press, 1932

Lucas, E. V., Vermeer of Delft, 2d ed., George H. Doran, 1922

Mather, Frank J., Jr., Western European Painting of the Renaissance, Holt, 1939

Robins, W. P., Etching Craft, Dodd, Mead, 1923

Trivas, N. S., ed.. The Paintings of Frans Hals, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1942

Valentiner, W. R., Art of the Low Countries , tr. by Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer, Doubleday, Page, 1914

Van Loon, H. W., Life and Times of Rembrandt: R. v. R., Garden City Publishing Co., 1932

Wilenski, Reginald H., An Introduction to Dutch Art , Stokes, 1929

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

ENGLISH ART

585

[a] Compton Wynyates. Warwickshire, England, c. 1520. Service rooms, a great hall, a chapel, and private apartments are grouped irregularly about a central court.

34

ENGLISH ART

(sixteenth TO NINETEENTH century)

r T i HOUGH the accomplishment of JL England in the arts since the Gothic age has been supreme in litera- ture and admirable in some of its archi- tecture, in painting it has seldom risen to the highest level, and its attempts in sculpture have been negligible, for the British have not evinced any marked feeling for sculptural form. Much of the fine vigorous art of the Middle Ages in England — cathedrals, carvings, illu- minated manuscripts, embroideries — - had been created under the stimulus and patronage of the Church. But when,

in the sixteenth century, Protestantism secured a strong hold and the monas- teries were destroyed, this patronage ceased and England was deprived of a large class of skilled craftsmen. Prot- estantism in general was averse to re- ligious representation, as in Holland; and its attitude became extreme among the Puritans, even iconoclastic under the Commonwealth. The Restoration, however, gave added zeal to the aris- tocracy, whose wealth and position, in- creased greatly through the acquisition of large colonial holdings, stimulated

586 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Hammer-Beam. Ceiling, Westminster Hall, London. 1397-98. ( Viollet-le-Duc)

the building of fine mansions on great estates and the production of fine fur- nishings and portraits. Except in build- ing there was so great a dearth of native talent that the kings and lords were forced to turn to foreign countries for artists. This need is especially noted in the field of portrait-painting. It was not until the eighteenth century, a hun- dred years after the Renaissance had begun to influence architecture, that a British school of painting evolved. This, like that of the Dutch, was devoted to portraiture and landscape; but, unlike the Dutch, it was under the influence of Italy and existed for the aristocracy.

The eighteenth century also initiated a revolution that was far-reaching in its

effects upon the arts not only of Eng- land, but also of the world — the In- dustrial Revolution. For at that time the work of machinery driven by steam began to replace the handmade or literally the manufactured product. The movement spread rapidly to France, America, and other countries, and vitally affected all the arts, for it took away from the vast majority of the workers the creative faculty and the ideal of craftsmanship. Art was now confined chiefly to building, painting, and sculp- ture, and was fast becoming something apart, something that was looked upon as a luxury to be enjoyed at certain times and in certain places rather than as an integral factor of life.

ARCHITECTURE

Gothic art in England was strong, versatile, and long-lived. The first sug- gestions of the Renaissance were seen in decorative details, and in the greater symmetry of ground plan and of design, especially in the great houses of the Tudor age. For with the coming of Protestantism church-building almost ceased. At the same time the greater security throughout the country and the increasing wealth of both nobles and merchants from confiscated properties of the monasteries and from colonial possessions encouraged the building of country places. The typical Gothic manor, such as Compton Wynyates (Fig. 585A), is set in a great park with stretches of green lawn, masses of elms and oaks, and gardens, all carefully de- signed with an informality that is pat- terned after nature. There is an air of comfort, geniality, and freedom from conventionality about both the manor and the surrounding park that is pe- culiarly English. The variety of ma- terials used in the construction — brick, wood, stone, and plaster - — and the ir- regularity of the exterior and the plan

ENGLISH ART

587

I

[a] State Room from Bromley-le-Bow. 1606. Victoria and Albert Museum , London , ( Victoria and Albert Museum)

give the manor a picturesque appear- ance. In these Tudor mansions, a ter- race was sometimes substituted for the outer side of the court and the rooms were grouped symmetrically on either side so that the plan assumed an Id- shape . 1

The Renaissance influence reveals it- self more clearly in such a house as Longleat , with its balance and symmetry, fundamental to the Renaissance. The exterior, with its flat roof, superimposed orders, regularity, and proportions, re- flects the Italian influence; the large number of openings, the bays, and the mullioned windows are due to the me- dieval English tradition.

1 MontacuU House and Hatfield House are good examples of this plan.

The interiors of these English houses indicate the wealth of the country in timber — oak and other hardwoods — and also the taste and skill with which it was used. The open-timber ceiling, the wainscoting, and the stairways were perhaps the three most characteristic uses. The hammer-beam ceiling , 2 which

2 An open-timber ceiling in which pairs of hammer beams (short beams that project from the top of the walls and are supported by brackets) support large brackets that rise to the collar beam (a short tie beam connecting the rafters near the top of the roof). The hammer beam acts as a lever and dispenses with the tie beam between the lower rafters, thus affording height and spaciousness to the interior. It fre- quently terminates in some decorative carving, and the space above is usually filled with tracery. '

5 88

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] St. Paul's Cathedral. London. Sir Christopher Wren, architect. 1668-1710.

is ceiling and roof combined, is seen fully developed in Westminster Hall (Fig. 586A) and in its most elaborate form in the Great Hall of Hampton Court.

A fine example of wainscoting is found in the Bromley room 1 (Fig. 587 a). The walls are entirely sheathed in pan- els of a fine quality of oak in a simple design. The center of interest in the room is the great fireplace with its carved stone lintel, above which rises the overmantel elaborately ornamented with the royal coat of arms. The ceiling of molded plaster harmonizes with the mantelpiece and adds another element of richness. Although the flat plaster ceiling had taken the place of the vault, it still retained the most obvious feature of the lierne vaulting (Fig. 354A) — the intricate design made by the ribs.

1 The palace is now destroyed, but this room has been re-erected in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

When the Renaissance came as an effective force, it came quickly and was Palladian in form. This was due very largely to the dominating personality of Inigo Jones (1573-1652). The new style is evident in the Banqueting Hall of Whitehall (Fig. 589A). The facade is designed in two orders superimposed, with columns in the center and pilasters near the ends, doubling at the corners; the entablature of both orders breaks about the supporting members and is finished with a balustrade. All these characteristics are suggestive of Palla- dio’s Basilica (Fig. 465A) . The window treatment is peculiarly Renaissance, with alternating curved and angular pediments on the ground story and horizontal cornices supported by scroll consoles on the second. The rusticated masonry gives a feeling of strength and solidity, and the ample window open- ings furnish the light needed in a North- ern climate. Inigo Jones, then, availing himself of the elements and principles of the Renaissance architects, combined and adapted them to the needs of Lon- don. Like all accomplished designers of buildings, he kept his decoration sub- ordinate. Everywhere there is fine pro- portion, dignity, and restraint.

The second great architect of the English Renaissance was Sir Chris- topher Wren (1632-1723). Wren, like Inigo Jones, fell under the spell of Italy, as we see in St. Paul's Cathedral (Fig. 588A) . Here the emphasis has been placed upon an effect of picturesqueness and majesty rather than upon a frank expression of structure. The artist real- ized that a church located in the heart of London with no open space as a setting but viewed from the irregular streets leading to it, and in a city whose climate is uncertain, dull, and foggy, must be vigorous and bold in its com- position if it were to dominate. Wren used the basilica plan with a great dome spanning both the nave and the

ENGLISH ART

589

[a] Whitehall Palace. Banqueting Hall. Inigo Jones, architect, i6rg~2s. London. ( Blom - field ) Compare the treatment of entablatures and corners with Fig. 465 A.

aisles. The classical portico shows some baroque tendencies in its supeiimposed colonnades, in their saliency, and in the inward and outward movement of the turret colonnades, which repeat the motif of the encircling colonnade of the drum of the dome and of the por- tico below. The two stories, which are carried consistently about the building, hiding the vaults, are rusticated, and are decorated with coupled pilasters and with strongly profiled and orna- mented cornices to give the needed shadow. St. Paul’s is an interesting ex- ample of a discreet use of the classical style with a frank acceptance of condi- tions of location and climate different from those of its original home.

The demand for small city churches 1 which resulted from the London fire of 1666 provided a new problem for the

1 Many of these churches were destroyed or badly damaged by German bombs in World War II.

builders, for the congested conditions predetermined a plan that would be conformable to the restricted plot of land and also led the builder to place emphasis upon that part of the struc- ture which would set the building apart from its crowding neighbors — the tower. Wren’s St. Mary-le-Bow (Fig. 59 1 a ) would seem nonexistent were it not for the tower, which begins at the street level as a strong square structure no more pretentious than its secular neighbors. As it overtops these it takes on a more elegant character, evolves into increasingly slender polygonal and cir- cular forms with encircling colonnades, and finally terminates in a slender spire. Thus it proclaims its symbolism above the roof level of the city. James Gibbs’s St. Martin’ s-in-the-Fields, on the contrary, because of its open site on Trafalgar Square makes an effective use of a lofty classical portico, consistent with the contemporary classical revival but in-

590

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Stone Hall. Hough- ton Hall, Norfolk. Built entirely of white stone. 1722-35. (A. Stratton, The English Interior, Batsford , London )

consistent with the functionalism of the tower, which looks as if it were perched on the sloping roof (Fig. 591B).

Characteristic of this period that followed the Restoration were the mansions and country houses of the aristocracy, which vary from the great palaces — - such as "Wren’s addition to Hampton Court (1689-1703), Chatsworth (1681), Blenheim (1705-24), and Somer- set House in London (rebuilt 1776-79) — to the modest manors whose setting in spacious parks constitutes much of their charm. Renaissance styles were popular, particularly the Palladian de- sign of the Villa Rotonda (Fig. 4664), in which a two-storied portico surmounted with a pediment formed a dominating feature of the design [Prior Park, near Bath, and Chiswick House), This late- Renaissance style was succeeded in the

late eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth by the classical revival, illustrated by Kedleston (1761— 65) in domestic architecture, and by the Bank of England (1788-1835) and the British Museum (182 5-47) in civic build- ings.

The interiors of the palaces and manor houses were perhaps more char- acteristic of the elegant formality of the times than the exteriors. Lofty propor- tions and fine materials contributed to their stateliness; classical sculpture, one of the passions of the aristocratic classes, filled the niches; and family portraits, perhaps by Reynolds or Gainsborough, stimulated family pride and added a colorful decorative note at the same time. The hall at Houghton Hall (Fig. 590A) illustrates the consistently monu- mental scale and the Renaissance treat-

ENGLISH ART

[b] St. Martin’ s-in-lhe-Fields. London. James Gibbs, architect. 1722. [Raymond R. Buckley) Com- pare with Fig. 644A, one of many American churches influenced, by this design.

[a] St. Mary-le-Bow. London. Sir Christopher Wren , architect. 1680. All except the walls and tower destroyed in World War II.

Adam ( 1 728-1 792), an influential archi- tect and designer. Adam retained the characteristic spaciousness but lightened the detail. Consonant with the classical revival, and with Roman stucco decora- tion (Fig. 593A) in mind, he based his stucco ornament on classical motifs — garlands, scrolls, vases, candelabra — kept it low, light, and delicate, and ar- ranged it in panels, frequently oval, for curved lines predominated and the

ment of the strongly salient doors, man- tel, and ornament. The hall at Kedleston, with its great height, alabaster colon- nades, and rich ornament, has the gran- diloquence of Italian baroque. Thus the desire for a dignified effect at times led to extravagant pomposity, a reaction to which found expression in the late Georgian age 1 in the work of Robert

1 The period from about 1720 to 1780, cover- ing roughly tire reigns of the Georges.

RENAISSANCE ART

room was frequently designed on an oval plan. White was the prevailing hue, or the pale tones of green, tan, and gray. Invigorating color was supplied by rugs, hangings of velvet and chintz, and the mahogany of the furniture.

Robert Adam’s influence is apparent also in the furniture used in these Geor- gian houses — Chippendale, Hepplewhite , and Sheraton .* A Chippendale chair was solidly constructed, though light in ap- pearance, and finely carved; its legs were sometimes sturdily straight, some- times curved or cabriole. The Hepple- white was more delicate, with tapering legs and heart-shaped back. Of more extreme delicacy and severe balance was the Sheraton , which had inlays of various kinds of wood and daintily painted floral decoration.

PAINTING

In the field of British painting we feel an insularity that was due partly to its separation from the vitalizing influences current throughout the Continent, and partly to its frequent dependence upon foreign artists, whose influence lay, but little assimilated, on the surface while a contemporary native style was practiced weakly by its side. Not until the time of Reynolds did the art of painting be- come thoroughly professional. Then too, “the English temperament does not take kindly to the creation of monumental design in terms of three-dimensional form; but prefers a narrative and de- scriptive art based on close observation of nature, given a whimsical or dramatic turn, and put in terms of color and linear rhythm.” 2 These characteristics

1 Thomas Chippendale (died 1779) and George Hepplewhite (died 1786) were cabinet- makers with shops of their own; Thomas Shera- ton (about 1 751-1806) was primarily a designer, famous chiefly for his publications of designs for furniture.

2 W. G. Constable in the catalogue of the College Art Association, International, 1933, p. 37.

mark the source of one of England’s highest accomplishments in the graphic arts, the English and Irish medieval illumination and miniature.

No school of British painting, how- ever, evolved from this medieval basis, as in Flanders and France. To be sure, the miniature portraits painted by the Oliver family and others in the six- teenth and seventeenth centuries and the group of portraits, chiefly of roy- alty, by unknown painters of the four- teenth century to the sixteenth mark a beginning of great promise, over which swept the tidal waves of imported styles. First Holbein, in England from 1531 to 1534 at the invitation of Henry VIII, then Van Dyck, summoned in 1632 by Charles I, and Sir Peter Lely (1618- 1680) set the styles in portrait-painting that were accepted by the chief patrons — the royal family and the aristocracy.

In the eighteenth century a sporadic expression of a more independent char- acter was that of William Hogarth (1697-1764). A wide social gulf sepa- rated classes in seventeenth- and eight- eenth-century England. The portrait- painters, whether native or imported, supplied the demands of the aristocracy, as did the builders and the furniture- makers. On the wave of classicism and consequent antiquarianism many clas- sical statues and paintings by “old mas- ters” found their way into manor and town houses; and a certain unity re- sulted from the unity of life within the limits of a given social class, such as existed in France under the later Louis. But it was not in this social stratum that Hogarth found his interest. His “moralities” were aimed at the London middle classes that he knew so well, and were strongly narrative and realistic. It was the age of Addison and Steele, the Spectator, and the early novelists. The middle classes had been growing in power at the expense of the court. Of the former class were the Puritans,

ENGLISH ART

593

f! Hjj

' * • jjff

Tj f !

1 1

■'If,

% '

4

[a] Dining-Room. 20 St. James Square , London. Designed by Robert Adam. ( Swarbrick )

whose life was drab and intolerant; of and vigorous use of pigment — * an ar~

the latter, the Cavaliers, who were tistic kinship with Hals — however

trivial, artificial, and licentious. In the rightly one may point to its lack of

life and manners of these eighteenth- form, and to its lack of evidence that

century people Hogarth, like Addison, “the artist is preoccupied with purely

found his subject matter. The dramatic visual values” (Roger Fry), both of

situation, recalling stage productions, which are permanent weaknesses of

focuses attention upon narration, and British painting.

the satire, though apparent, has a weak- It was the portrait-painting of Rey- ness of formal organization that pre- nolds, Gainsborough, and their follow-

vents it from affecting the spectator ers, however, that was the popular ex-

with the unforgettable force of a Goya pression of the aristocracy. Sir Joshua

or a Daumier. Reynolds (1723-1792), despite a ro-

Evidence of Hogarth’s feeling for pig- mantic sentimental vein and a futile

ment, however, is found when he was attempt to adopt an Italian style, re-

off guard, forgetful for a moment of his stored to painting in his Discourses

narrow moralizing. In a few portraits, and his professional standards, acquired

notably in the Shrimp Girl, there is the largely through study in Europe — the

sureness of a swift perception, and a solid professional base which had been

sparkle and verve in its expression, at- lost since the breakup of the medieval

tained through a spontaneous, swift, schools at the dosing of the monasteries.

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Gainsborough. The Honorable Frances Buncombe. jyyy-y8. Frick Collection, New Tork City . {Frick Collection)

More a theorist than an artist, over- whelmed by the color harmonies of the Venetians, he built up a “grand style” in which he painted the fashionable people of the day. An artificial society found in him its artificial painter, satis- fied with superficial description con- taining little interpretation, structure, or organization, though he apparently saw these qualities in the prototypes he professed to follow.

Thomas Gainsborough (i 727-1 788), though he too painted the fashionable people of the time, tended to give their artificiality artistic expression (Fig. 594A). His portraits are usually com- posed after a Venetian formula, with masses of foliage, or a column, and a distant landscape in the background. But light and air play about the figures,

which take their place in space in rela- tion to the whole composition. Spon- taneity and ease of line, and the textures of satin, lace, velvet, and plumes deli- cately brushed in with glowing irides- cent color, together produce charming passages of surface. But it is largely surface painting, which in the followers of Reynolds and Gainsborough 1 weak- ened eventually into sweet prettiness.

If the British portrait-painters at- tained only a superficial excellence, the landscape school made definite contri- butions. The work of Richard Wilson (1714-1782), with its close dependence upon elemental nature, and of John Crome (1768-1821), with its quiet spa- ciousness filled with light and air, its direct and intimate relation to nature, often expressed with greater breadth and simpler realism than in Hobbema, by whom he was influenced — the work of these men was a prelude to the cli- max of British landscape-painting in Constable and Turner in the nineteenth century.

SUMMARY

In England we find a people who had developed strong traditions in the arts during the prolific Middle Ages and who through their insularity and tenac- ity of Gothic style were not easily in- fluenced by Italian styles. Thus the Renaissance infiltrated gradually at first, without appreciably affecting the fine open-timber ceilings, for example, which were distinctively characteristic of the age. Eventually, however, the Renaissance — in particular the late Renaissance — overpowered this transi- tional type, and appeared in the churches and in the great manor and town houses of the aristocracy. This in

1 George Romney ( 1734-1802); Sir Henry Raeburn (1756-1823); John Hoppner (1759- 1810); Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830).

ENGLISH ART

turn gave way to the classical revival of the late eighteenth century and the early nineteenth. Painting was an im- ported art, confined largely to royal portraits until the rise in the eighteenth century of a truly English school, which, with the exception of illustrative satires on contemporary society and the be- ginnings of a landscape school, was con- fined to portrait-painting strongly under the influence of the Venetian portrait- ists.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Armstrong, Sir Walter, Art in Great Britain and Ireland, Scribner, 1909

Gainsborough and His Place in Eng-

lish Art, Scribner, 1904

Baker, Charles H. G., British Painting, with a chapter on “Primitive Painting” by Mon- tague R. James, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1934

— — — - — — and Constable, W. G., English Painting of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Cen- turies, Harcourt, Brace, 1930 Binyon, Laurence, English Water-Colours , Mac- millan, 1933

Blomfield, Sir Reginald T., A History of Renais- sance Architecture in England, 1500-1800, 2 vols., Macmillan, 1897 Borenius, Tancred, English Painting in the XVJIIth Century, Hyperion Press, 1938 Cescinsky, Herbert, The Old-World House, Its Furniture and Decoration, 2 vols., Macmillan, 1924

Dobson, Austin, William Hogarth, new ed., McClure, Phillips, igo2 Edwards, Ralph, and Jourdain, Margaret, Georgian Cabinet-Makers, Transatlantic, 1945 Fry, Roger E., Reflections on British Painting, Macmillan, 1934

— - — — and others, Georgian Art ( 1760 -

59Z

1820), Scribner, 1929 (Burlington Maga- zine Monograph)

Gotch, J. A., Early Renaissance Architecture in England, Scribner, 1914

Grimsditch, Herbert B., ed,, Masters of Painting, William Hogarth, London, 1 926 Grundy, C. R., English Art in the Eighteenth Century, Studio, 1928

Hind, C. L , Landscape Painting from Giotto to the Present Day, 2 vols., Scribner, 1923 Jackson, Sir T. G., The Renaissance of Roman Architecture: Vol. II, England, University of Chicago Press, 1922

Johnson, Charles, English Painting from the Seventh Century to the Present Day , Dial Press, 1932

Macartney, M. E., English Houses & Gardens in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Scribner, igo8 Mather, Frank J., Jr., Western European Painting of the Renaissance, Holt, 1 939 Mulliher, H. H., The Decorative Arts in England, 1660-1780, London, 1924 Richardson, A, E., Georgian England, Scribner,

1931

Russell, John, British Portrait Painters, Hastings House, 1945

Sitwell, Sachevereil, Conversation Pieces, Scribner,

• 937

Narrative Pictures, Scribner, 1938

Swarbrick, John, Robert Adam and His Brothers, Scribner, 1916

Tallmadge, T. E., The Story of England's Architec- ture, Norton, 1934

Triggs, H. I., Formal Gardens in England and Scot- land, 3 pts., Scribner, 1902 Vallance, Aymer, Old Colleges of Oxford, Scribner, 1912

Victoria and Albert Museum, Panelled Rooms, Vols. I-VI, London, 1914-24; Vol. I, Bromley Room; Vol. II, Clifford's Inn Room; Vol. V, Hatton Garden Room

Catalogue of English Furniture and

Woodwork , Vols. I-IV, London, 1923-31 Wilenski, Reginald H., Masters of English Paint- ing, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1934 See also the General Bibliography, pp.79 1-92.

[a] Chdteau of Blois. Wing of Francis I. 1515-19. (JV. D. Photo) Legend attributes the design of the spiral stairway to Leonardo da Vinci.

T TNTIL the sixteenth century France V_/ was still Gothic, and each com- munity was still a unit of civic and religious elements which found free ex- pression in the work of the artists. But cosmopolitanism was taking the place of medieval local solidarity. The ex- change of commodities and of ideas was establishing a broader attitude toward life. Political interrelations were taking

the French kings to Italy and ended in bringing Italian ideas to dominate France. There is little wonder that the warmth and splendor of Italy capti- vated the Northerners, even those who came primarily on political missions, as did Charles VIII, who during his expedition to Italy in 1494 lived for some time in the Medici Palace in Florence. Even more influential was

RENAISSANCE ART

FRENCH ART

597

Francis I (1515-1547), a great patron of all the arts, who not only brought ideas from Italy but induced Italian artists, such as Leonardo da Vinci and Benvenuto Cellini, to come to France and there execute commissions for him.

For it was the king and not the Church who now held power in France. The religious art of the Middle Ages was being superseded in an attempt to glorify the state and to flatter the mon- archs, who were now arbitrary and now whimsical, and usually under the spell of Italy. Hence upon the native artists the kings usually imposed a foreign art.

Politically, socially, and economi- cally, the rapid tendency toward the final suppression of the feudal lords and toward the concentration of power in the hands of the monarch reached its climax in the famous statement of Louis XIV, “I am the state,” The burden of religious wars and persecu- tions, of unendurable taxation, and of the injustices of class privilege on the one hand, and on the other, a new mental outlook in which reason and the laws of nature challenged medieval- ism, combined in the great outburst of the French Revolution, one of the im- portant signs pointing to a new era based upon a new social order.

[a] Chateau of Chambord. 1526-44. In the central building were the rooms of stale; in the side wings , the servants' quarters , kitchens , and pantries. There was little in the way of convenience or sanitation. The stables were near the living-rooms and the kitchens far from the dining-room. (JV. D. Photo and Du Cerceau)

ARCHITECTURE

The tendency in France away from religious toward secular interests, even before the coming of a direct influence from Italy, brought about a greater demand for chateaux and civic build- ings. Protection, an important function of the medieval chateau, was no longer necessary. Yet some of its features,

RENAISSANCE ART

598

such as the towers and battlements, had become so traditional that they still persisted. Climatic conditions also determined several features character- istic of Northern buildings — steep roofs, a large number of windows, chimneys and fireplaces.

The Italian influences we see emerg- ing at Blois (Fig. 596A), in the wing built by Francis I. The steep roof with its dormers and chimneys, the large win- dows with mullions, the niches contain- ing statues, the gargoyles — these are French. The Italian reveals itself in the greater regularity of design, the greater repose that comes from the balance of vertical and horizontal lines, and the classical pilasters and carvings. Tradi- tional love for the Gothic verticalism, however, has made the builder break his entablatures with pilasters.

Typical of the early Renaissance cha- teaux is Chambord (Fig. 597A). It stands out on the open plain, as did most of these chateaux; for they were great country places, usually built near a for- est so as to serve as hunting lodges. Its plan (Fig. 59 7 a) shows regularity and symmetry — a central square building with four rounded towers at the corners, set in a court surrounded on three sides by an outer line of rooms, the whole surrounded by a moat. Horizontality dominates and ornament is sparse. As a mass, the building consists of interplay- ing rectangular and cylindrical vol- umes; in its fenestration it combines curving and angular motifs. To com- pensate for restraint in the lower part, the roof presents a fantastic group of steep surfaces, with dormers and chimneys, about a central lantern.

The rooms of the early Renaissance chateaux were large; the ceilings, when not vaulted, showed the structural wooden beams, which were richly painted; the walls, whether of stone or plaster, were covered with tapestries that served two purposes — decoration

and warmth. The only source of heat in this cold climate was the huge fire- place, which served not only function- ally but also as a center of decorative interest; for the overmantel, which usu- ally reached to the ceiling, was elab- orately carved, giving a strong accent to the design and a note of elegance to the entire room.

Thus the architecture of the early Renaissance, as illustrated by Blois and Chambord, was still French at heart. In the reign of Henry II (1547-1559), came translations of treatises by Italian architects and even the architects them- selves; and study and travel in Italy by the French. This brought about a more thoroughgoing revolution, though it never eliminated some French ele- ments. In the Louvre , for example, the projecting central and corner pavilions are descendants of the tower pavilions and the central gate of the early fortress- like chateaux. At the same time the Louvre is one of the best illustrations of French Renaissance style, both early and late. The early period is found in that part of the Louvre (Fig. 599A) which was built by the architect Pierre Lescot (i5io?~i578) and the sculptor Jean Goujon (died before 1568). The typi- cally French details of this facade are somewhat lost in the large court that it now faces, four times the size of the original one; for the projections, the shadows, and the detail are too delicate to carry a great distance. Each story forms a complete order; the pilasters no longer break through the entablature as at Blois; the cornices project enough to furnish the balancing horizontal line. The arcading on the ground story re- flects the Roman combination of the arch and lintel, and is recessed enough to produce more shadow than the upper stories, thus strengthening the base of the design. On the second story the pilasters rising from bases, and the al- ternating curved and angular pediments

FRENCH ART

599

11 u ii t i* ?

[a] Louvre. Court, showing the fagade of Lescot and Goujon. 1546-76. Paris. ( Giraudon )

supported by consoles, have direct ante- of the Louvre (Fig. 6ooa) built by Claude cedents in the Roman palace; but the Perrault (1613-1688) for Louis XIV. lower height of the stories, the larger This effective composition has strongly size of the windows, and the sloping influenced columnar facade design ever

roof are Northern. Sculptured decora- since. The general impression is one of

tion verging on overornamentation imposing nobility combined with quiet

plays a large part in the composition. restraint. There are five divisions, bi-

This decoration is delicately carved in laterally balanced a projecting cen- low relief and is distinctly architectural tral pavilion, emphasized by a great in its design. In this facade we have the arched doorway and crowned with a

best of French Renaissance architec- pediment; two projecting end pavilions;

ture, showing masterly design both in and two connecting colonnades. A um-

the balance and in the proportions of fying line is the horizontal of the cor-

the large elements, as well as delicacy, nices, broken lightly by the projecting

charm, and fine taste in the details and pavilions and pediment. The severely

the ornamentation. plain ground story with its light, un-

A more literal dependence upon Ren- broken surfaces not only serves as a

aissance design is evident in the fagade base but emphasizes by contrast the

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Louvre. Fagade of Perrault. 1663. Paris.

richness of the broken light and shade of the colonnade. This variation of light and shade is carefully regulated — deepest in the colonnades because of the open loggia behind the columns; lighter in the center, where the columns stand close to the walls; and lightest on the corners, where the columns are en- gaged or supplanted by pilasters, with a shadow accent in the central niche. Thus there comes about a varying degree of light and shade, like the differ- ent values in a painting, that adds rich- ness and unity to the design.

In ecclesiastical architecture as well as in secular, the seventeenth century saw Paris definitely, not halfheartedly, transformed from Gothic to Renais- sance; and this was true in sculpture and painting as well as in architecture. Everything Italian was the vogue of the day. In the chapel of the Hotel des In- valides (Fig. 6oob), which is typical of a large group of churches, we find a thor- oughly Renaissance base surmounted by a dome that derives obviously from St. Peter’s. Here the greater saliency in the parts of the fagade, through their

[b] Hotel des Invalides. Chapel. Jules Hardouin Mansart, architect. 1692-1704. Paris. ( Raymond R. Buckley)

[a] Versailles. Galerie des Glaces. Decorated , 1680 , by Charles Le Brunfor Louis XIV .

organization in several planes, the more exaggerated play upon light and dark, the superimposed orders, and the broken cornices and ornament of the dome — all these elements show the influence of the baroque.

The French gardens that formed an integral part of the plan and the life of the chateau were as formal as the age itself. Those laid out at Versailles by Andre le Notre (1613-1700), the land- scape artist employed by Louis XIV, illustrate how magnificent the gardens had become. Water played an impor- tant part, and its use demanded a knowledge of hydraulic engineering. Garden design called for great basins to catch the reflections of the buildings, and for fountains, large and small, cas- cades, and canals. Statues of river gods and of playing children and great orna- mental vases of lead served as accents

in the fountains or against the tall clipped hedges that bordered the gar- dens. Broad walks and long avenues afforded fine vistas and great masses of trees framed the design.

While the exteriors of these buildings were so purely imitative of the Italian Renaissance, the interiors were a freer expression of the personal taste of the monarch. This is particularly true of the buildings erected during the reigns of Louis XIV and Louis XV. Louis XIV (1661-1715) was a great builder who paid special attention to decoration and to furnishing, with the result that the ensemble was an unusually harmonious unit. Louis was able to do this because of the centralization of the arts in the Gobelins’ establishment, purchased for him in 1662, At that time it did not limit its productions to tapestries but made furniture, metalwork, jewelry,

FRENCH ART

6oq

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Hotel de Soubise. Louis XV. Paris.

and textiles. The Grand Monarch’s ideal was somber dignity and magnifi- cence; and as artists were at the service of the state for the purpose of pleasing and glorifying the monarch, the palace at Versailles in all its aspects, from the architectural design of the buildings to the metal decorations of the furniture, is sober, symmetrical, and stately. The Galerie des Glaces or Hall of Mirrors (Fig. 6oia) is magnificent in its dignity and in its sober color enriched by brilliantly painted ceilings, by hangings of silk, velvet, and tapestry, and by an abun- dance of ornament, such as colored marbles, plaster relief painted and gilded, carvings, and metal fittings. The furniture is consistently heavy and rich (Fig. 603 a), of massive construction but elaborately veneered with fine woods and usually decorated with metal orna- ments of various alloys.

At the death of Louis XIV, the no- bility threw off this heavy dignity, and

turned to the gaiety and sparkling light- heartedness that characterized the reign of Louis XV. The age found a perfectly harmonious expression in the rococo. 1 Dainty rooms for conversation or card- playing or boudoirs are typical (Fig. 602A). Slender proportions and never- ending movement in easy curves with a definite avoidance of straight lines and angles; light color with much gild- ing; the use of many mirrors to add vivacity with their reflections — these, in general, constituted the rococo style, the light, sparkling, thoroughly French version of baroque. Such a room, how- ever, is incomplete without the people for whom it was built, with their ele- gant costumes of lustrous satins and brocades, their equally elegant man- ners, and their sparkling wit. The furni- ture (Fig. 603B) shows a design based entirely upon curved lines. Its slender

1 From rocaille, the rockworlc or shellwork found frequently in rococo ornament.

FRENCH ART

603

[a] Table. Louis XIV. Of wood with metal ornamentation. Metro- politan Museum of Art , New York City. ( Metro- politan Museum)

proportions, its dainty decorations of flowers and garlands, and its gray-white color form a harmonious part of the rococo style. So also the paintings of a whole galaxy of painters of court life — Watteau, Boucher, Nattier, Fragonard, to mention a few — the brocaded satins, the S&vres porcelain, music and litera- ture, together constituted a unified ex- pression, produced under the lavish patronage of the court and the nobility, that points to unity and consistency in French court life of the eighteenth cen-

Andrd Charles Boulle (1642-1732), for example, and Jacques Cafiieri (1678- 1 755)* Likewise the royal Sevres por- celains were the products of potters who were masters of ceramic technique, and they harmonized with the artificial ele- gance of the interiors. Chinese porce- lains had made their way to Europe perhaps as early as the eleventh or twelfth century and, because of their thinness and translucency, were greatly admired. But it was not until the eight- eenth century that the potters in both

tury.

TAPESTRY AND PORCELAIN

The centralization of all the arts in the Gobelin factory forced the artists who were in the employ of the ruling aristocracy into the state-controlled sys- tem. This resulted in standardization and artificiality on the one hand and a high standard of craftsmanship and great unity on the other. The fine furni- ture made during the reigns of Louis XIV, Louis XV, and Louis XVI, 1 with its inlays of various fine woods and tor- toiseshell, and gilt bronze mountings, was the work of craftsmen as well known as the painters and the sculptors;

1 The Wallace Collection in London is par- ticularly rich in the arts of eighteenth-century France.

[b] Console Table . Louis XV. Metro- politan Museum of Art, Mew York City. {Metropolitan Museum)

6o4 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Houdon. Louise Brogniart. Baked clay. Louvre , Paris.

[b] Houdon. Voltaire. ij8i. Comidie-Fran - $aise, Paris.

Germany and France discovered the nature of true porcelain. One typical Sevres vase is elegant in shape, is cov- ered with a deep-blue enamel, flawless in its finish, and is heavily ornamented in gold. On the body of the vase in a reserved panel is a naturalistic painting of figures and landscape. In thus vying with the art of the painter it fails, de- spite its display of technical virtuosity and its perfect harmony with the table on which it stood, to maintain that in- tegrity of medium which is the mark of the finest ceramic products.

This same transgression of the limita- tions of a medium is seen in the great tapestries made at the Gobelin estab- lishment, which since its purchase for Louis XIV had been a center for the

finest production. The tapestries of this period were of great size. Their subjects were taken chiefly from history and mythology, and the compositions were designed by the most important artists of the day. Technically, they show the great skill of the weavers in their com- plicated compositions, in the large num- ber of colors and tones used, and in their elaborate borders. But artistically many of them fail to attain the highly decorative quality of the Gothic tap- estries, because the designers came too much under the influence of paint- ing, whose ever increasing importance tended to ally other arts with it in its concern with creating an illusion of space.

Some of the other textiles reveal a

FRENCH ART

[a] Pieta. Middle of 15th cent. Louvre , Paris. ( Giraudon )

more consistent textile design. The large repeat pattern that originated in the Near East began to break up into a lighter framework, and by the time of Louis XV had taken the form of a deli- cate pattern of vines, garlands, flowers, and ribbons that harmonized well with the interior decoration and the furnish- ings of the period. These brocades and silks were made largely at Lyon, an im- portant textile center, and, like the tapestries, they show the great technical skill of the weavers.

SCULPTURE

Sculpture too follows the graph of style. Yet the native grace and swing of line in Gothic carving (Fig. 35 ib) still dominated in the somewhat Italian- ate and more naturalistic architectural sculpture of Jean Goujon (died before

1568). The nymphs which are carved in low relief on the Fountain of the Inno- cents are elongated to allow for the free sweep of the long sinuous lines, which are accented by the rigid verticals of the enframing vertical pilasters.

Much of the sculpture of the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries and into the nineteenth is feminine both in subject matter and in feeling — figures of goddesses all ease and grace and with exquisite surface finish expressive of the texture of flesh or fabric, too often mere superficial prettiness. This was the re- sult of the autocracy of the French Academy, which narrowly restricted the subject matter and the technical methods of painters and sculptors. An outstanding figure is Jean Antoine Hou- don (1741-1828), who used the current baroque and rococo forms with inde- pendent vigor, especially in his por-

6o6

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Jean Clouet. Charlotte of France . c. 1540. Max Epstein Collection, Chicago. {Art Institute of Chicago)

traits, which constitute his best work. A prolific portrayer of notables, he even traveled to America to model the George Washington (Virginia State Capitol). In the Voltaire (Fig. 604B) baroque qualities — restlessness, mo- mentary pose, realism, the dependence upon heavy draperies for pictorial ef- fect — are modified by the usual French poise and suave flow of line. In the terra-cotta portrait of Louise Brogniart (Fig. 6 o4a) 3 the vivacious turn of the head, the quick glance of the eye, and the mobile expression about the mouth are spontaneously caught and expressed in clay, the medium so suitable for mo- mentary expressions, and made perma- nent by baking the clay. Such spar- kling portraits parallel the rococo paint- ings and furnishings of the late eight- eenth century and thus represent the sculptural phase of the rococo style.

PAINTING

French painting of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was largely in the Gothic style, which originated in minia- ture- and glass-painting, with the altar- piece the most conspicuous form until portraits began to appear as the in- dividualizing tendency permeated the social structure. The French painter, though naturalistic, was not so insistent upon detail as the Flemish and the Ger- man artist. He was possessed of a larger, more selective way of seeing his world and a greater facility for organization; and his predilection for poise and grav- ity, for an easy flow of line, and for suave rhythms lent an air of gracious- ness to his paintings. Activity was local- ized in a number of sites, particularly around Paris; in Burgundy, for the Dukes of Burgundy were great art pa- trons; in Touraine; and at Avignon, where Italian influence was strong be- cause of Italian painters at the papal court. So long as the demand for hand- made books continued, well-known painters, such as Jean Fouquet (about 1415-1481) , painted miniatures as well as altarpieces and portraits. From some unknown painter of southern France comes a Pietci (Fig. 605A) whose scale and monumentality show an influence of the Sienese frescoes in Avignon. Above a low-lying landscape, with the towers of Jerusalem at the left, three figures rise against a gold background: the Virgin, with Mary Magdalen and Saint John on either side, bending over the dead body of Christ, which lies, gaunt and angular, across the lap of the Virgin; in the left corner is the kneeling figure of the donor. The pic- ture is filled with an intense emotion, expressed not by a realistic rendering of agonized grief in pose and facial ex- pression, as in many Northern paint- ings, but by purely formal qualities: a large, striking pattern of light and

FRENCH ART

[a] Louis le Nain . Peasant Family . 1642. Louvre, Paris.

dark masses of sober color and gold; ing edges. The result is a strongly linear

great sweeping curves opposed by dy- quality not unlike that of Holbein,

namic diagonals and sharply defined In the seventeenth century, as the right angles; and quieting horizontals. Italianizing style continued into a ba-

This vital late-Gothic art continued, roque phase under Simon Vouet (1590-

] in the sixteenth century, in the portraits 1649) and Eustache LeSueur(i6i6-

of the Clouets and of Corneille de Lyon, 1655), the Le Nain brothers (Antoine,

in face of the Italianizing school which 1588-1648; Louis, 1593-1648; Mathieu,

was fostered, if not arbitrarily imposed, 1607-1677) were producing for the

by the French court. Ironically enough, bourgeoisie a popular genre art similar

when it came to portraits of himself and to that of the Flemish and the Dutch. 1

his family, the monarch seems to have Yet in this painting, to take the Peasant

preferred the native traditional style, Family of Louis Le Nain (Fig. 607A) as

j while the school at Fontainebleau was an illustration, is a smaller unit of visual

producing pictures in an eclectic Italian style under the direction of masters im- ported from Italy. Charlotte of France (Fig. 606 a) , for example, by J ean Clouet (working about 1516-1 546) is a rela- tively flat pattern of light and dark color areas of varying textures and shapes — curved shapes effectively op- posed to angular — and sharply defin-

perception than in the Dutch and con- sequently a larger scale of figures. With the sober color of a limited palette, chiefly grays and red-browns, and with the skillful handling of light, both nat-

1 See R. H. Wilenski, French Painting, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1931, pp, 47-48, for the influence of a colony of Dutch and Flemish painters at Saint-Germain-des-Pres.

6o8

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Poussin. Funeral of Phocion. 1648. Louvre, Paris.

ural illumination and firelight, the painter has constructed solid, almost sculptural forms placed firmly in space. Thus Le Nain shows a greater concern for massive forms related in space than he does for a description of the multi- tude of details present in unselective visual perception. At the same time he has recognized all the human values of the subject, and has portrayed both their immediate expression and their wider implications with a sincere di- rectness.

In the field of landscape the French made a contribution through two paint- ers, Poussin and Claude, who however lived most of their lives in Italy and whose paintings are markedly Italian Renaissance in their quiet architectonic structure, which is counter to the con- temporary baroque of Rubens (Fig. 546A) and to the intimate realism of Ruisdael (Fig. 583A), In both, the in- terest of the figure and the title (usually

mythological or religious) is submerged, almost lost, in a true landscape feeling — imaginative, to be sure, and based on the Italian and the classical. Nicolas Poussin (1594-1665) in his figure-paint- ing was an eclectic derived from Italian masters, chiefly Raphael and Titian. In his landscape he carved out space, a deep spaciousness that is constructed by a few definite planes insistently stated and repeated with variations. In the Funeral of Phocion (Fig. 6o8a), for ex- ample, each figure, tree, and building is set firmly upon the basic horizontal plane or its variations, a plane which stretches from the foreground to the distant mountains; and each is con- structed clearly of light and color with its component planes meeting rather sharply. Very definitely the eye is guided through the landscape by these lights and darks and by the shapes which they form — the angular patterns of the buildings and the rounding masses

[a] Claude GelUe {Lorrain). Egeria. 1669. Naples. ( Anderson )

of the trees. In comparison with the melting atmospheric quality in Claude, Poussin’s landscapes have a precise clar- ity often emphasized by an abrupt, al- most clashing passage of color.

Claude Gell<Se (1600-1682), also called Claude Lorrain, though he too built up nature imaginatively, with classical subject matter, constructed ar- chitecturally. In the Egeria (Fig. 609A), Claude massed his trees and buildings to serve as a framework for the opening through which we are carried into a vast spaciousness by the light, whose highest value is here concentrated and thence radiates throughout the picture and ties together all parts by its envel- oping tonality. At the right is a group of classical ruins, usual in Claude, and in the distance on a hill a ruined castle,

the dark mass of which carries the eye inevitably into luminous space. The trees on the right perform this same function by silhouetting interesting pat- terns against the high light. In fact, the composition is largely the skillful, bal- anced arrangement of light and dark masses, one which, despite its formality, gives an impressive sense of heroic gran- deur and infinite spaciousness.

While Poussin and Claude were painting their ideal landscapes in Italy, art in France was becoming more and more the monopoly of the privileged class. The establishment in 1648 of the French Academy of Sculpture and Painting gave official sanction to the dictates of the autocracy which ruled France during . the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to further its own

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Watteau. Embarkation for the Island of Cythera. 1717. Berlin. {Braun)

selfish interests. The pompous dignity of the court of Louis XIV and the ele- gance and light gaiety of those of Louis XV and XVI it was the business of the painters to portray. For the former there were Pierre Mignard (1610-1695) and Hyacinthe Rigaud (1659-1 743) ; for the latter, Antoine Watteau (1684-1721); Jean-Baptiste Pater (1696-1736) and Nicolas Lancret (1690-1743); Francois Boucher (1703- 1770); and J ean-Honore Fragonard (1732-1806). Fragonard’s typically rococo Swing (Wallace collection, Lon- don) or Watteau’s Embarkation for Cy- thera (Fig. 6ioa) is representative of the spirit of the later period. In the latter, in the delightful cool shade of a park couples are idly loitering; winged loves hover about, cling to a statue of Venus, and dance around a dainty, gilded ship toward which the couples are making their way to journey to the island of love far away in the golden, misty dis-

tance. All is lightheartedness and gaiety, grace and elegance. But Watteau was too much of an artist to express merely this idea. Here are revealed his excellent feeling for balance; for the interesting pattern of trees against the luminous distance; for the easy rhythm of the undulating curve that begins in the figure of Venus, follows the groups across the canvas, and then turns in- ward again in the rollicking cherubs in the sky at the left; and, perhaps most of all, for the harmony of exquisite color, which the textures of the elegant stuffs gave him opportunity to exploit, and which is put on in light touches that melt in the enveloping glow.

Apart from this whole galaxy of court painters, whose pictures in theme and in style were in perfect harmony with court life and the rococo spirit, was a somewhat isolated artist who drew his subject matter from a different social stratum and sphere of life, Jean-Baptiste

FRENCH ART

611

Simeon Chardin (1699-1779), Not only in theme but in attitude toward form Chardin seemed to continue the tradi- tion of the Le Nain brothers and the “Little Dutchmen 55 of the seventeenth century. Sometimes it is the interior of the French middle-class home, which Chardin, like the Dutch painters, saw as raw material with pictorial possibil- ities (Fig. 6x1 a). The sober dusk of the small room provided an opportunity so to modulate the light that it would create a space in which to place the figures that catch the high light from an open door, and form* a cylindrical mass cut across by repeated diagonals. The warm, vibrating brown ground modulates the rose, green, and yellow of the striped upholstery and garments; a contrasting note is the cool gray-blue, of large mass in the apron balanced by smaller areas in the details. The colors are not used with the light sparkling dash of Watteau but with a sober de- liberation. Chardin’s primary interest in genre as pictorial material for its own sake, exclusive of associational values, appears in his frequent use of still life. In Figure 61 2a, a large rec- tangular box, cutting into space on di- agonals that are repeated in the pipe- stems and shadows, counters a number of cylindrical objects. Or as pattern, straight lines and angles oppose curves and ellipses; warm color , cool color; light texture, dark texture. With all the means at the painter’s disposal these objects are built into an organization the unity and harmony of which have a power of their own quite separate from the representational content.

SUMMARY

The late-Gothic age saw France still vigorous in all the arts; though the heightened fervor of the Middle Ages had somewhat cooled and Italian in- fluence had become increasingly strong.

[a] Chardin. Saying Grace. 1740. One of several versions. Louvre, Paris. (Braun)

Building, largely secular, combined, with the ever-present French good taste, native and Italian elements, notably in the chateaux and the palaces. Their more personalized interiors show all the arts at the service of the monarch and a consistent reflection of the mood of the court, as one sees in the heavy dignity of the Louis XIV style and the light sparkling rococo of that of Louis XV, Furniture, tapestries, porcelain, cos- tumes, and paintings all contributed to the harmonious ensemble. Sculpture, though it functioned to some extent architecturally, tended to become an independent art and for the most part, in conformity to the dictates of the Academy, produced Italianate natural- istic female figures. Italian influence operated in the field of painting also as painters emerged from the medieval school of the miniaturists into secular painting — popular genre, landscapes, portraits, and court scenes, all show- ing baroque three-dimensional compo-

612

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Chardin. Still Life. Louvre , Paris.

sition. Singleness of purpose, under the control of the court, infiltrated all the aristocratic arts, notably in the eight- eenth century, and produced a total art expression of unusual unity both in its motivating spirit and in its conse- quent forms.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barnes, Albert C., and De Mazia, Violette, French Primitives, Barnes Foundation, 1931 Blomfiekl, Sir Reginald T., A History qf French Architecture from the Reign of Charles VIII till the Death of Mazarin, 1494-1661, 2 vols., London, 19x1

A History of French Architecture from

the Death of Mazarin till the Death of Louis XV, 1661-1774, 2 vols., London, 1921

Three Hundred Years of French

Architecture, 1494-1794, xMacmillan, 1936

Brownell, W. C., French Art, Scribner, 1901 Cox, Trenchard, Jehan Foucquet, Native of Tours, London, 1931

Dilke, Lady E, F. S., French Architects and Sculp- tors of the XVIIIth Century, Macmillan, 1900

— French Furniture and Decoration in

the XVIIIth Century, Macmillan, 1 901 Les Fouquet, Verve, V ol. Ill, Nos. 9-12, Paris, 1943-45

Fourreau, Armand, Les Clouet, Paris, 1929 Fry, Roger E., Characteristics of French Art, Coward-McCann, 1933

• Vision and Design, Brentano’s,

1924 ■

Furst, H. E. A., Chardin, Scribner, 1911 Gluck, Gustav, Die Kunst der Renaissance, in Deutschland, der Niederlanden, Frankreich, etc., Berlin, 1928

Gromort, Georges, Histoire abr&gk de Varchitec- ture de la Renaissance en France (XVI e , XVII 6 , & XVIII s siicles), Paris, 1930 Hind, C. L., Landscape Painting from Giotto to the Present Day, 2 vols., Scribner, i 923 Hourticq, Louis, Art in Frame, Scribner, 1911

FRENCH ART

Huizinga, J., The Waning of the Middle Ages, Longmans, Green, 1924 t

Jackson, Sir T. G., The Renaissance of Roman Architecture, 3 vols., University of Chicago Press, 1921-23,' Vol. Ill, France Konody, P. G., and Lathom, M. X., An Intro- duction to French Painting, London, 1932 Mather, Frank J., Jr., Western European Painting of the Renaissance, Holt, 1939 Moore, C. H., The Character of Renaissance Architecture, Macmillan, 1905 Munro, Thomas, Great Pictures of Europe, Coward-McCann, 1930

Osborn, Max, Die Kunst des Rokoko, Berlin, 1926 Reau, Louis, French Painting in the XIVth, XVlh and XVIth Centuries, tr. by Mary Chamot, Art Book Publications, 1940 Ridder, Andre cle, J, B. S. Chardin, Paris,

193s

613

Rocheblave, S., French Painting in the XVIIIth Century, tr, by George F. Lees, Hyperion Press, 1937

Royal Academy of Arts, Commemorative Catalogue of the Exhibition of French Art, ism-rpoa, Oxford University Press, 1935

Terrasse, Charles, Les Peintres frangais de la renaissance, Paris, 1932

Les Primitifs frangais, Paris, 1931

Tilley, A. A., The Dawn of the French Renaissance, Putnam, 1918

Victoria and Albert Museum, Panelled Rooms, Vols. I-VI, London, 19x4-24; Vol. Ill, Boudoir of Mme de Serilly

Ward, W. H., Architecture of the Renaissance in France, 2d ed., 2 vols., Scribner, 1926

Wilenski, Reginald H., French Painting, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1936 See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

36

RUSSIAN ART

(sixteenth to nineteenth century)

I ATE in the fifteenth century, with Jt the overthrow of the Tatars, Mos- cow became the capital of Russia. But it was not until the time of Peter the Great (1682-1725) that the Russian Government, if not the nation, turned wholeheartedly westward and came within the periphery of the European nations. Symbolic of this reorientation was Peter’s abandonment of Moscow, center of traditional Russian culture, as his capital in favor of a new city to be built on the Neva, St. Petersburg (now Leningrad). Pie and his succes- sors, Elizabeth (1741-1762), Cather- ine II (the Great; 1762-1796), and Alexander I ( 1 801-1825), opened the doors wide to the West and not only accepted but solicited Western influence by inviting artists from various coun- tries to work in Russia and by sending their own students to Western capitals

for training. The inexhaustible wealth of the extravagant, autocratic court made vast projects economically pos- sible for the ruling class, with no regard for the vast number of Russians who were serfs. Even the French Revolu- tion could not break through the hard crust of Russian reaction and absolu- tism until 1861, when the serfs were emancipated and the social stirrings began which were to end in the revo- lution of 1917.

ARCHITECTURE

When Russia accepted Christianity, in the tenth century, it accepted with it its outward expression, the Byzantine style, to which it eventually contributed its own indigenous type of wooden con- struction. The assimilation of the two styles, translated into stone construe-

RENAISSANCE ART

614

tion, is typified by the Cathedral of St. Basil (1555) on the Red Square in Mos- cow. Before the building of St. Basil , however, Italian architects had been invited to Moscow to work on the walls of the Kremlin and on its churches and palaces. Although during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there was some attempt to integrate into the na- tional style elements from the West — classical details and baroque ornament from Poland and other northern Euro- pean countries — the accession of Peter the Great flung the doors wide-open to a whirlwind of lavish building based on Renaissance styles, though often in original Russian versions. In 1 703, Peter began the erection of a capital that was to vie with, if not eclipse, every other capital of Europe. For more than a cen- tury work went on with the greatest in- tensity, as if to catch up on lost cen- turies, in laying out the city with wide avenues, open squares, and quays along the Neva, with monumental buildings — churches, palaces with vast gardens, and civic buildings — placed so as to create fine ensembles, and all on a grandiose scale. Great manor houses arose in the country, not only around St. Petersburg but in the Ukraine, in the Crimea, and in and about Moscow. In the early Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, built by Peter, from a simple ba- roque base with a classical portico rises a lofty steeple (the tent roof of the medieval style) ; other churches are crowned with the Russian ‘‘onion” dome, St. Andrew at Kiev, for example. With Elizabeth, the rococo in an osten- tatious version dominated. In her reign one of Russia’s great architects, Count B. F. Rastrelli (1700-1771), built the Versailles-like Imperial Palace under her direction, and rebuilt and decorated Peterhof and Tsarskoe Selo.

The climax of the eighteenth century was reached in the reign of Catherine II, whose personal taste for the simple clas-

sical style was largely responsible for the spread of the classical revival over much of Russia. Catherine maintained close relations in all cultural matters with France and staffed the Academy of Arts, founded in 1 758, with French instructors. She lured as many artists as she could from France and Italy with visions of vast building schemes sup- ported by vast sums of money for carry- ing them out, and she sent Russian students abroad for training to fit them to share in the plans. Thus in her reign and in that of her successor, Alexander I, were erected: the Academy of Arts, which, with its rusticated ground story, central and end pavilions, and engaged col- umns, is so strongly reminiscent of the Perrault fagade of the Louvre (Fig. 6ooa) that it does not surprise one to learn that a French architect collaborated in its design; the Taurida Palace, with its classical portico and colonnade; the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, whose pro- portions contrast so markedly with the early lofty Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul ; the Kazan Cathedral, a highly dignified domed edifice approached by curving colonnades, obviously inspired by Ber- nini’s colonnades of St. Peter's in Rome; and St. Isaac , with its lavish use of rich materials, the St. Paul’s of Russia. Fur- ther foreign influence came from Eng- land through Charles Cameron ( 1 740- 1812), who, influenced by both Pal- ladio and Robert Adam, produced a style consistent, in its sobriety and sim- plicity, with the classical revival of the time and, in its prodigality, with the autocracy which demanded it. Thus Russia followed, though tardily, the same sequence of styles from the ba- roque to the classical revival as the other countries of Europe, but on a scale and with a pompous magnificence possible only to an absolute monarch and to which only the palaces of the French absolute monarchs at Versailles are comparable.

RUSSIAN ART

PAINTING

Medieval fresco and icon painting, with its exalted mood, symbolism, and mysticism, was zealously guarded by the authoritarian Eastern Orthodox Church, which condemned innovations that were creeping into painting from the West as they were into the buildings in the Kremlin. Rublev (Fig. 282A) marked a high point in icon-painting, but any normal growth from this stage through vitalizing influences was stifled by the state. Copying of the traditional icon-painters was forced upon artists, with no opportunity for individual free- dom. Despite this reactionary absolu- tism, some innovations had crept in, in the direction of naturalism, such as changes in traditional poses and in the introduction of architectural settings. Thus in the seventeenth century Rus- sian painting seemed to be at the same stage as Italian in the fourteenth, when Cimabue and Giotto made the break from the Byzantine style. Natural de- velopment, however, came to a halt in the eighteenth century when the court introduced painters of the current aca- demic schools of western Europe, ex- ponents of the “grand style” of painting religious and historical subjects, nudes, and portraits. Though some Gains- borough-like portraits at the time of Catherine the Great were meritorious, this eclectic painting, as a whole — created entirely at the bidding and In the style demanded by the wealthy court and the nobles — was an empty thing. An exception was a thread of genre painting, spontaneously natural- istic both in subject matter and in mode of treatment, known as “common art” and. unrecognized by the academic pro- ponents of the “grand style.” This trend was important, as it was sowing the seed of the realistic school of the nine- teenth century.

615

SUMMARY

Although Russia had accepted a few ideas from the West before the time of Peter the Great, this monarch made a direct break with Russian traditions and repudiated the national styles in favor of a direct imitation of Western modes, with slight modifications and with the retention, at least in the be- ginning, of a few traditional motifs. The entire eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth made up a period of the imitation, on a grandiose scale for the benefit of the absolute state and the ostentatious court, of Renaissance styles from its early phases through the baroque and the classical revival. This imitative period was not, however, de- void of beneficial consequences, for it made a break, at least, in the hard shell of reactionary conservatism in all cul- tural life and by revitalizing that life played a part in the rise of a great in- dependent age that reached a climax in the fields of literature, music, and the dance.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bunt, Cyril G. E., A History of Russian Art, Studio, 1946

Eliasberg, Alexander, Russische baukunst, Munich,

1922

Farbman, Michael S., ed., Masterpieces of Rus- sian Painting, London, 1930

Grabar, Igor E., Istoria Russkago Iskusstva , 6 vols., Moscow, 1909-1916

Holme, Geoffrey, ed., Art in the U.S.S.R. , Studio, 1935

Loukomski, Georges, Charles Cameron (rypo- j8is), London, 1943

Miliukov, Paul, Outlines of Russian Culture, ed. by Michael Karpovich, tr. by Valentine Ughet and Eleanor Davis, 3 pts.; Part III, “Architecture, Painting, and Music,” Uni- versity of Pennsylvania Press, 1942

Rubissow, Helen, The Art of Russia, Philosoph- ical Library, 1946

Talbot Rice, David, ed., Russian Art, London, 1935

T HE Renaissance brought into the current of its thought and style not only all Europe, including Russia, but both the Americas as well. From its source in Italy, it was decentralized — quite normally in Europe because of intercommunication between Italy and the other nations and because with them, excepting Russia, it shared a com- mon base: Romanesque and Gothic. This was not true in the Americas. While Europe was ready for growth in a new direction, the Americas pre- sented an entirely different situation: a pioneering type of life; different climatic conditions and different ma- terials, as a rule; and above all an un- known civilization that in its habit of thinking and in the character of its art expression was almost the antithesis of the European. This was the indigenous American, the Indian, culture. There- suiting interaction sometimes led to the extinction or the isolation of the Indian and to implanting an adapted version of contemporary home styles, as with the French, the Dutch, the English, and, to some extent, the Hispanic. In some cases where it neither extin- guished nor assimilated; it made vital contributions to the Indians, which en- abled embryonic expressions to come to efflorescence, notably in the case of the Navaho, the Plains Indians, and those of the Northwest coast.

The aims of exploration and coloni- zation, though varying in different countries, stemmed from the spirit of inquiry, individualism, and adven- ture so characteristic of the Renais- sance; from a desire to secure a greater share of the world’s goods, especially the luxuries of the Far East; and, in some cases, from a desire to find oppor- tunity in a New World for realizing the individual freedom that was beginning to stir in Europe. Greater knowledge of geography combined with the re- vival of the ancient concept of a spher- ical world and the invention of the compass to mitigate the hazards of sailing enough to warrant voyages westward to find passage to the fabu- lous Indies, since the Mongolian in- vasions had cut off the usual routes eastward. When the true nature and great wealth of the new lands became known, other nationals than the Span- ish and the Portuguese — the French, the English, and the Dutch — also sought their share of riches, trade, and lands. With the rise of great colonial empires - — not confined to the Americas — Euro- pean culture was decentralized. The re- sulting art expression was so modified through adaptation to new conditions that we are justified in speaking of American Portuguese, American Span- ish, American French, and American English art.

LATIN AMERICAN ART

[a] San Lorenzo . Potosi. Detail of the facade showing the carving above the doorway* 1728- 44. The Indian figures carved in the columns, the guitar-playing sirens on either side, and the sun , moon, and stars are all Indian motifs. {Archive of Hispanic Culture , Library of Congress)

37

LATIN AMERICAN ART

G OLD and the cross — these mo- tivated the Spaniard and led him to attempt to impose upon the Indian the Spanish pattern of civilization, to transform the New World into a New Spain. This Spanish Empire included all South America except Portuguese Brazil, all Central America, and much of the southern and western parts of the United States. This huge area eventually was divided into five viceroyalties with their seats of gov- ernment usually in the old capital

cities, which the conquistadors wrecked and rebuilt in the Spanish style. It is illuminating to note that the highest attainments of Latin American art are found in the areas of the highest in- digenous American attainment — in Mexico and Guatemala, the home of Maya, Mixtecs, Toltecs, and Aztecs; and in the Andean regions of Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, the site of the pre- Incas and the Incas. It should be stated at the outset that there is no such thing as a “Hispanic American

618 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Cathedral of Puebla, c. 1556-1649 .

art,” in the sense of a homogeneous ex- pression running through the Spanish colonies. Baroque art is one thing in Mexico City, quite another in Cuzco; one thing in a capital, quite another in a distant mission. Within broad limita- tions, however, the basic elements of Spanish baroque are there, but local conditions produced effective diversity.

ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE

Mexican

"jVTEW Spain, the earliest of the vice- li royalties, followed upon the con- quest by Cortes, in 1521, of the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, on whose ruins

he built his own capital, Mexico City. A generation was needed to extend and consolidate the conquest, to lay out towns and cities, and to bring the In- dians into conformity with the new pattern of life. Much of this was the work of the missionaries, who always accompanied the conquistadors, 1 and who strove not only to convert the In- dians but frequently to protect them against the exploitation of the Spanish overlords. In building the churches and convents that rose in great numbers, the missionaries found their source of labor in the Indians, already skilled in many arts, and in this work taught them the Spanish styles. But the In- dian, with no written language, pos- sessed a keen memory and a tenacious hold on his ancient culture, with the result that when copying Spanish models he not only often introduced native motifs but also infused the Euro- pean naturalism with something of his own conventional and abstract style, and in the villages the indigenous arts survived and continued.

The characteristic sixteenth-century building was the fortress-church, such as the convents 2 of Huejotzingo , Acol- man, or Actopan, massive stone structures with thick walls, few windows, low towers flanking the portal, and a modi- cum of carving to accent the doorway. Gothic vaulting or finely carved Mude- jar ceilings, together with a lofty retable rich in gold and polychromed wood carvings, provided a colorful interior. The churches were set in large courts

1 For the conquest of Mexico and for an ac- count of the work of both the conquistadors and the missionaries, see W. H. Prescott, History of the Conquest of Mexico, Modern Library, 1936, and Bernal Diaz del Castillo, True History of the Con- quest of Mexico, tr. by Maurice Keating, McBride, 1939. It is through the chronicles of the mission- aries that we learn much of preconquest Indian life.

2 In Mexico “convent” is used for both con- vent and monastery.

LATIN AMERICAN ART 619

surrounded by a strong stone wall, with chapels at the corners and an open chapel near the entrance of the church. This is a new note, one not found in Spain. For mass, not indi- vidual, conversion followed the efforts of the padres, so that the court, with the open chapel for conducting serv- ices, was necessary for crowds too great for the church itself to accommo- date. In the ornament of these early churches we find not only native mo- tifs interspersed with Spanish but also a tendency to flatten the carvings, to give them a feeling of surface conti- nuity, such as is inherent in indigenous reliefs. A good illustration is the con- vent of Tlalmanalco. Thus is the late medieval style of Spain modified by local conditions.

In the seventeenth century, the ac- quisition of wealth led to the building of fine mansions and, with the arrival of bishops from Spain, of cathedrals. The artists who were invited from the mother country for their construction brought the current Renaissance style, the plateresque. As a result, many a mansion or convent bears delicate carvings to accentuate its portal or to add a note of grace to its patio. This style was followed in the early seven- teenth century by a brief period of the severe Herreran style (Fig. 556A), which the Cathedral of Puebla well illustrates (Fig. 6 1 8a). In general, it follows a basic type almost universal in His- panic America: cruciform in plan, vaulted, with a dome over the crossing and twin towers to flank the main por- tal. In the Puebla Cathedral, one is im- pressed with the fine integration of the body of the church, the dome, and the towers, enhanced by clear profiles, un- broken surfaces, and reticent ornament, and by the surface contrast of the glazed tile covering the dome and the lanterns of the towers and the gray stone of the rest of the building. The

[a] High Altar. Puebla Cathedral .

sobriety of the exterior hardly pre- pares one for the sumptuousness of the interior, with its rich marbles on floors and walls, stone and wood carvings, rejas, polychrome and gilded sculp- ture, and paintings. The high altar in particular (Fig. 6 1 9A), spectacular in its combined use of many materials, in its broken cornices and obstructed pro- files, in its constant movement, shows how the Mexican temperament, too restricted by the austerity of the Her- reran style, found more suitable ex- pression in the rising baroque.

The tile-covered domes which rise in such numbers above the roof levels of Puebla are witnesses of the great ce- ramic industry of the city. The Indians of the locality were already skilled in the craft when the Spaniard contributed

620 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] San Francisco Xavier. Tepozotlan. Fagade redecorated by Lorenzo Rodriguez 1760-62. {Archive of Hispanic Culture, Library of Congress)

new methods by introducing from Spain the Talavera ware, a tin-enam- eled fabric chiefly in blue, white, and yellow. This tile was used for wall facings, for fountains in patios and plazas, and for domes of churches all over Mexico. The tile-covered dome is a mark of Mexican colonial architec- ture. The designs are usually geometric or floral, but even include figure work. The use of tile spread until it sheathed entire exteriors, as in the House of Tiles (Mexico City), an example of a secular building, and the church of San Fran- cisco Acatepec, near Puebla.

The Cathedral of Mexico (Mexico City)

was begun in the Herreran style, but because of the length of time taken in its erection took on elements of the baroque — witness the great volutes and the sumptuous facade — and in its Sacristy gave expression to a variant of the baroque, the ultrabaroque, or Churrigueresque. A climactic outburst of religious zeal, wealth, a never- ending supply of gold, skilled and in- ventive carvers, and, one likes to think, the Indian tradition of the gor- geous pageantry that accompanied na- tive ancient religious rites — these at least were some of the ingredients of the Hispanic American ultrabaroque. It invaded all the arts, the furnishings as well as the buildings themselves. In the facades of the churches it manifested itself in lofty panels of stone carving; and strikingly on the interior, where the lavishly carved altarpieces glowing in gold and color, sometimes four or five in a nave, rose with rapid, intricate movement from altar to vaulting, now held by the framing edge of the reredos and the plain stone masonry, now bursting forth ecstatically to cover the entire interior. The Convent of Tepo- zotldn (Figs. 620A, 62 1 a) illustrates these characteristics; or the church of San Sebastian and Santa Prisca at Taxco, built of the warm reddish volcanic stone so often used in Mexican archi- tecture. The slender towers of the latter, largely unadorned on the lower stories to flank the elaborately carved baroque portal with a lofty wooden door of Moorish design, become richly carved as they rise loftily to balance the tile-encrusted dome. Churrigueresque altar-pieces and murals adorn the in-: ■ terior.

This spirited, lavish ultrabaroque style, so expressive of eighteenth-cen- tury Hispanic society, gave way in the latter part of the century to a strikingly different influence, the neoclassic, which was pervading not only Europe

LATIN AMERICAN ART

621

but all the American colonies as well. This transition is seen clearly in the work of two well-known architects, Manuel Tolsa, a Spaniard who setded in Mexico City, and Francisco Eduardo Tresguerras of Celaya (State of Guana- juato). Though baroque in his early work, Tolsa, head of the San Carlos Academy where the academic classical style was entrenched, shows a complete transition to the invading style in his Palacio de Mineria in Mexico City. Tresguerras, though caught in the neo- classic wave, used it with more origi- nality in his El Carmen (Celaya) — with perhaps more compromise, as seen in the tile-covered dome and the single tower rising above the Doric portal, and certainly with more graciousness and more sensitive proportions.

South American

F ARTHER south in the Andean highlands were the two cities which, with Mexico City, constituted the great triad of art centers in His- panic America: Quito and Cuzco.

From Mexico the conquistadors, lured by gold, pushed southward to Peru, where in 1533-34 Pizarro overthrew the Inca Empire, laid out the new city of Lima, and upon the ruins of the Inca capitals Cuzco and Quito built Span- ish cities.

The evolution of art in Mexico was duplicated in the viceroyalty of Peru in its broad outlines, with differences due to local conditions. Here appeared the same transplantation of Spanish ideol- ogy, religion, artists, and works of art, and the same silent but effective effort of the indigenous peoples to hold to their own traditional culture and art forms. In the high valleys of the Andes this Indian influence was particularly resistant, partly because this region was the heart of the Inca Empire and partly

[a] Altar of San JosL San Francisco Xavier, Tepozotldn . c. 1750-60. Thought to be the work of the wood-carver Jeronimo de Balvas.

[a] Cathedral of Cuzco. Completed 1564; reconstructed after the earthquake of 1650. Of granite taken from Inca structures. {Archive of Hispanic Culture , Library of Congress)

RENAISSANCE ART

because it was somewhat removed from the center of Spanish influence, Lima.

Lima was the symbol of Spanish power and culture in South America. Ships which left the harbor of Lima laden with gold and silver returned equally laden with statues, paintings, furniture, tiles, even whole retables in pieces ready to be assembled — the art of Spain literally transported to the New World. Hither, too, came archi- tects and painters who could themselves paint Madonnas and portraits or could faithfully copy famous European works. This transplanted Spanish art felt no influence from the indigenous peoples, for the site of Lima was not a strong center of Indian culture. The churches and monastic institutions and the man- sions of the aristocracy followed Anda- lusian types. El Palacio de Torre Tagle (Fig. 62 3 a) , now the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, is an example of the fine man-

sions of the ruling class. It is built flush with the street, its massive door flanked by projecting balconies of Moorish design; its gardenlike patio, carved Mudejar ceilings, Sevillian wall tiles, and magnificent carved furniture might well be at home in Seville.

In Cuzco, on the other hand, a dif- ferent situation affected this trans- planted Spanish style. Though the conquistadors demolished this Inca capital, they did not rase it quite to the ground. The magnificently built Inca walls may have proved too solid for even the iconoclastic Spaniard; or per- haps, with an eye for practicality, he deemed the use of such fine masonry not too un-Christian. Whatever his mo- tivation, he built the new city on the foundations and the walls of the old. The high valley of Cuzco, fringed by austere mountains and subject to fre- quent earthquakes; a long tradition of

LATIN AMERICAN ART

[a] El Palacio de Torre Tagle. Lima. 1730-35. Originally a private mansion , now the Min- istry of Foreign Affairs. ( Archive of ' Hispanic Culture , Library of Congress)

stone masonry as solid, and somber as interior, roofed with Gothic vaulting,

the mountains from which the stone unrelieved by any appreciable amount

was cut; highly skilled craftsmen of a of color and texture except for paintings lofty indigenous culture — this milieu and wood carvings, is in keeping with

gave direction to the Spanish style, the austerity of the exterior. Here in

brought it into harmony with itself, Peru we find not only the baroque but

and produced what is perhaps the most the ultrabaroque more reserved, more

original Hispanic American art. tranquil. And in such churches as San

Though most of the buildings in Sebastian (Cuzco) and La Compania

Cuzco date from the destructive earth- (Arequipa; Fig. 62 5 a) we see evidence

quake of 1 650, the Cathedral (Fig. 622A) of indigenous influence in two direc-

survived the shock; it has however tions: first, in the introduction of Indian

been subjected to much rebuilding. It motifs — - local flora and fauna — even in

is a low, heavy building with squat religious buildings; and second, in the

towers and solid masonry, much of it style of the carving. The naturalistic

unbroken by windows. The projecting Renaissance style has flattened out, has

portal, soberly baroque, introduces a taken on a strong feeling for the con-

three-dimensional movement into an tinuity of the surface, for oneness with

otherwise two-dimensional fa5a.de def- the masonry. The crisp carving has a

initely Herreran in feeling. The low linear quality, and sharply defines the

624

RENAISSANCE ART

Cuzco was a great center for pro- ducing paintings, metalwork, and es- pecially wood carvings, both for its own churches, monastic institutions, and mansions and for those of the en- tire viceroyalty: richly carved, massive benches, cupboards, chests, and ward- robes for mansions; retables, pulpits, choir stalls, doorways, and screens for ecclesiastical buildings; and figures of saints and crucifixes for retables and chapels. Many of these figures approxi- mated the Spanish realistic style; others were more abstract, like the stone fig- ures on the fa$ade of San Sebastian. The canopied pulpits in particular were lavishly carved (Fig. 624A) and, with the paintings and retables, lent a note of richness to somewhat sober interiors.

On the still higher, bleaker plateau of Alto Peru in the vicinity of Lake Titicaca (now chiefly Bolivia), in such cities as La Paz and Potosl, we feel even more than in Cuzco the intimate relation between man and the moun- tains. The thin, clear air sharpens the outlines against a metallic sky; the mountains are sheer masses of stone with but sparse vegetation; the cities of stone give the impression of being bound to their mountain environment. This is the locale, we recall, in which the austere Tiahuanaco culture devel- oped. And we are not surprised to find that the deeper we penetrate this area, the stronger becomes the influence of the indigenous peoples. This we see in San Francisco (La Paz), low, massive, its baroque portal made tranquil by insistent horizontals and clean-cut an- gularity; and again in San Lorenzo (Potosl; Fig. 617A), once the great silver city of Charles V. Here the richly carved portal, set in a deep niche, contains all the elements of Spanish baroque, but the style has been trans- formed in two ways. First, it is perme- ated with Indian motifs to a greater extent than elsewhere — not only local

[a] Canopied Pulpit. San Bias , Cuzco.

light and the dark. We recall the pre-Inca carvings from Chavin or Tiahuanaco, and remember that Moorish ornament, which so insistently emphasizes the sur- face, permeated all Spanish work. The figures also, as in the niches of San Sebastian , are strangely flat and abstract for baroque and are strictly frontal in pose, in strong contrast to the restless three-dimensional quality of baroque sculpture.

LATIN AMERICAN ART

625

fauna and flora but the sun and the moon, symbols of Inca deities, angel- like figures playing native musical in- struments, and, on the columns, figures of Indian dancers in feather costumes. Second, the manner of carving and of combining elements produces an even more tranquil effect than at La Paz. The basic organization of balanced ver- tical and horizontal lines combined with curves is set forth with the clarity of geometry, and within this framework the individual elements are simplified into abstract forms and carved flatly as integral parts of the surface they adorn. This same metamorphosis of the Spanish style is apparent in many of the rich carvings of retables and pul-

pits and in the figure sculpture in which in the expression of suffering Spanish theatrical realism takes on a restrained majesty.

As we move southeast along the passes into northwestern Argentina — to Jujuy, Yavi, and Salta, for example — the carvings and also the paintings become simple, direct expressions with passionate feeling through the use of highly conventional forms. North- western Argentina was on the periph- ery, culturally and artistically, not of the viceroyalty of La Plata, which was consistently European, but of that of Peru; and with the Spanish influence weaker in proportion to its distance from Cuzco, here we find the indige-

6s6 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] San Francisco. Quito, Late 16th cent. Towers rebuilt after the earthquake of 1868. {Archive of Hispanic Culture , Library of Congress)

nous peoples retaining much of their own pattern of life, as did the Pueblos on the northern periphery of Hispanic America. Northward from Cuzco to Quito we find an inverse ratio of in- digenous influence. Qjuito, though high in the Andes, is much farther north than Cuzco and hence enjoys a milder climate. Although a late capital of the Inca Empire, it was on its northern fringe, and upon its non-Incaic tribes the Inca culture had been imposed, whereas in Cuzco, the heart of the Inca Empire, it was autochthonous.

From its earliest days the Spanish city was an art center. In its numerous monastic establishments schools were established under the tutelage of the friars or of artists who came from Spain, so that the city became a center for making statues, carvings, and paintings for its own churches, monastic insti- tutions, and mansions and for export to other Hispanic colonies, sometimes even to Spain itself. Churches and convents, which had followed the usual sixteenth- and seventeenth-century evo- lution of styles, suffered badly from earthquakes and in the process of repair and rebuilding developed in the eight-

eenth century an opulence unsurpassed in America.

From these churches without num- ber, two will suffice for illustration — the Franciscan church and monastery, San Francisco, and the Jesuit church, La Compahla. San Francisco (Fig. 626 a) is typical of the great monastic institu- tions; with its cloisters and subsidiary buildings it occupies an entire block. In external appearance it shares with all high Andean structures a low mas- siveness. Its heavy, severe portal pre- pares one but little for the richness of the interior, the work of the carver, the gilder, and the painter combined. In the apse (Fig. 62 7A) a framework of richly carved and gilded columns with a broken cornice, on which rests much free-standing sculpture, contains con- siderable flat area filled with paintings. All elements combine in leading to a lavish baroque altarpiece.

La Compahia (Fig. 62 8 a) presents a strong contrast to San Francisco. Though low and without towers, it is lighter. The facade is a unit of design, with movement in depth — greater in the central section, less in the lateral; and with a delicate play of light and shade

LATIN AMERICAN ART

627

over the surfaces from low reliefs ac- cented by shadow-producing niches and openings and particularly by the typi- cally baroque twisted columns at the en- trance. One immediately turns to Rome, to II Gesti and San Ignacio — the mother churches, stylistically, of the Jesuit or- der — and it is not surprising to learn that the plans of the church seem to have been made in Rome. If the facade of La Compania is reservedly rich, the interior reaches a climax of opulence (Fig. 629A). For it is “sheer gold,” not with a metallic glitter but with a warm glow, due partly to time and partly to the use of red and white pigment in the carvings, and accents of color in the paintings and in the polychrome sculp-

ture. Gold as a material was abundant*, there was wealth to secure it; the zeal of the Jesuits was fervent, and their aim to overawe by sheer magnificence could here find ample outlet. At the same time we might be justified in ask- ing whether the knowledge of Inca palaces and temples built of forbidding stone but lined with gold, and the de- scription of these buildings given by the Spanish chroniclers, might be oper- ating in the minds and the memories of the builders and the craftsmen. Though the surfaces are entirely sheathed in this rich decoration, there are effective con- trasts. Large areas remain quite flat, are covered with angular Moorish orna- ment, and thus set off the more delicate

628 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] La Campania. Quito. 1722-65.

curvilinear Renaissance carvings.

In creating these rich interiors, archi- tects, sculptors, carvers, gilders, and painters worked in close collaboration. In fact sculpture hardly existed except in collaboration. Sixteenth-century carvers produced statues of a late- Gothic character. In the seventeenth century a style based on the Spanish baroque emerged: polychrome wood carvings. Some were realistically dra- matic with brilliant color and gold in the voluminous drapery or in the ac- tual fabrics with which the figures were clothed. Some, however, presented a more reserved character, best illus- trated by the work of the well-known Indian Manuel Chili, also called Cas- picara (eighteenth century). In his group representing Saint Francis Re- ceiving the Stigmata one sees the baroque

almost transformed by a placid feeling which has been likened to that of late fifteenth-century Florence, but which may well find its roots in the character of the Indian bending the restless ba- roque in the direction of his own im- perturbability.

Though ecclesiastical architecture perhaps represents the apogee of His- panic American art, we must not forget that secular building as well engaged the attention of architects: to some extent municipal buildings, but more notably the mansions of the upper classes. These mansions were built on the Mediterranean plan, about patios, with only a portal, accented by carving, to hint at the magnificence within. The large, stately rooms tended to a barren- ness which consciously set off the finely carved, massive furniture, the hangings and silver, the Sevillian tiles or the Mudejar ceiling. In these furnishings — particularly in the carvings, the weav- ing, and the silver — we sometimes find pure Spanish designs, but frequently the same combination of Spanish and In- dian as in the stone carvings.

Between or fringing the two great art centers in Mexico and the Andean highlands are other areas where vary- ing conditions differentiate the basic pattern: Guatemala, where frequent earthquakes, a predominant, colorful Indian population, and the tradition of luxurious Mayan ornament condition a low, massive type of building, gay with colored plaster walls and orna- ment; the Caribbean, where, as in Santo Domingo, for example, plater- esque and Herreran styles never gave way to the baroque, as there was no stimulation from either wealthy pa- tronage or indigenous influence; the highlands of Colombia, where the transplanted Spanish retained a purely Spanish form of quiet dignity, with emphasis upon the Moorish element in its particularly fine artesonados.

LATIN AMERICAN ART

[a] Nave. La Com- pania, Quito (Fig. 628 A ) . 1605-89. ( Archive of

Hispanic Culture, Li- brary of Congress )

Eastward from the Andean Cor- dillera the terrain slopes down into vast tropical jungles in the north, with a salubrious plateau near the big east- ern bulge, and into temperate plains in the south. This vast area was occu- pied by Indians who had never devel- oped a culture comparable to that of the Andean tribes. The Portuguese traders, who explored the coastline of Brazil, hearing no tales and seeing no evidence of wealth, and obstructed by the dense tropical growth, clung to the fringe of the country and made little effort to penetrate the interior. Indeed Portu- gal did not push exploration and colonization as vigorously as Spain, be-

cause it became too deeply involved in similar enterprises in Africa and the Far East; nor did it exercise control so rigorously, or have such care for the souls or the welfare of the Indians. And although the Jesuits, the chief order of missionaries accompanying the Portu- guese colonists, had zeal for their task, they had neither such wealth nor such skilled labor as the Spaniard found among the Aztecs and the Incas. Hence art expression developed slowly. In the northeast both the French and the Dutch secured footholds and for a time transplanted thither northern-Euro- pean culture. Negroes were brought from Africa in large numbers to fur-

630

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Sao Francisco. Ouro Preto. 1765-94. The planning and deco- rative sculpture are both attributed to Antonio Francisco Lisboa. ( Ar- chive of Hispanic Cul- ture, Library of Con- gress)

nish labor. The Indians were pushed back into the interior, and their influ- ence was insignificant.

Except in the French and Dutch settlements, whose art is known only through prints and paintings, and in one or two Portuguese cities whose buildings have been destroyed, there was little art activity in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Thus Bra- zil experienced no succession of medi- eval and Renaissance styles such as occurred in the Spanish colonies. The earliest extant buildings, which date from the late seventeenth century, as well as those of the eighteenth, follow Portuguese styles closely, with adapta- tions due to climatic differences — such as the introduction of lattices to pro-

tect against the equatorial sun. In the coastal cities we find a brief period of Herreran building, as in the Cathedral of Salvador (Baia) , which is heavy and austere, with a facade design strictly rectilinear except for the broken vo- lutes over the windows and in the pedi- ment. The interior, by contrast, is richly baroque, with its colored mar- bles, carved and painted wooden ceil- ings, and a sheathing of gilded carvings broken by brilliant blue Portuguese tiles and balcony rails of carved ma- hogany.

Later in the century appeared build- ings of a very different character, not the Churrigueresque of Mexico and Quito but a style which closely followed Lisbon modes, with a French rococo

LATIN AMERICAN ART

[a] Rosario dos Pretos. Ouro Preto. Jose Pereira Arouca, architect. 1785. The plan is in the shape of two connected ovals. (. Museum of Modern Art )

flavor. The churches, the Parish Church of Pilar (El Salvador), for example, tend to be small, tall and slender, rectan- gular in plan, with no transepts, no vaulting, no dome. The lightness of the color, for they are usually plastered, the many openings, the delicacy of the rococolike ornament, produce an ef- fect of lightness and elegance strongly in contrast to the heavy, dark, massive structures of eighteenth-century An- dean buildings.

In the late seventeenth century and the eighteenth the discovery of gold and diamonds a few hundred miles inland led to a unique development in a group of isolated mining towns, the chief of which was Ouro Preto. In this heavily wooded, mountainous plateau,

quite out of contact with European sources, a distinctive regional style evolved from Balan and Portuguese prototypes, rooted in the local environ- ment and brought to fruition by a group of gifted artists. 1 As the great religious orders were banned in the district, the responsibility for building lay with the Third Order (a lay order) and the local churches. A native soap- stone furnished excellent material for masonry, which was usually stuccoed, and for carving, and was augmented by an orange sandstone used in bases, pilasters, and cornices, which added a

1 Ouro Preto has been made a Brazilian national monument to preserve the colonial character of the town, as Taxco does for Mexico and Williamsburg for the United States.

632 RENAISSANCE ART

note of contrasting warmth to the gray many towns of the province of Minas soapstone. Gerais show an independent use of the

Most of the churches were built on rococo phase of baroque practiced in

hilltops and stand out conspicuously as the coastal cities. Garlands, scrolls,

mass. Many are rectangular in plan, ribbons, and figures are carved with a

yet not a few are oval, even a double masculine strength and boldness; and

oval. This is seen in the Church of the the more-than-life-sized stone figures

Rosary (Fig. 631 a) built for the large of the Prophets (Congonhas do Campo)

community of Negroes in Ouro Preto. possess a power and a vitality seldom

The severely rectilinear design of the met in Hispanic American art.

Cathedral of Salvador, based on rec- The interiors of these churches, which tangular volumes, seems to have been usually have wooden ceilings instead of

bent into a design based on cylinders vaults, are gay with accents of brightly

and is highly sculptural in feeling. The polychromed and gilded altarpieces,

plan consisting of two ovals and a carved pulpits, and paintings that

convex facade; the cylindrical volumes swirl up in rapid movement, truly

tied together with an unbroken cornice; baroque in style,

the skillful integration of the towers with the other cylinders; the triple door- way with unadorned rounding arches J\0Tth AdfUCTlCdU which accentuate the curving surface;

the curving pediment and circular win- AS we turn to Hispanic America dows — all these elements denote a Jl\ north of the Rio Grande, we find

highly original designer. the southern and southwestern part of

Most of the churches, however, fol- the United States constituting the

low a somewhat different and fairly northern fringe, corresponding cul-

consistent style — rectangular in plan, turally to Bolivia and northwestern

with round towers and a single door- Argentina on the southern fringe. From

way with carved ornament flanked by both the West Indies and Mexico

two windows having a round window Spanish expeditions set forth north-

directly above, around which swings ward, motivated by the same desires

the cornice. The pediment is finished as Cortes and Pizarro: gold and the

with broken scrolls. Such is Sao Francisco souls of the Indians. Thus Florida and

at Ouro Preto (Fig. 630A). Here the the Gulf Coast and all the Southwest

elegant carving about the portal and as far north, roughly, as San Francisco

in the disk which displaces the window became a part of New Spain. The cli-

above is the work of the mestizo An- mate along the Gulf and in California

tonio Francisco Lisboa, known as O approximated that of southern Spain;

Aleijadinho (“The Little Cripple’ 5 ). the intermediate area was a dry plateau,

O Aleijadinho, whose hands and feet more like Mexico, and its proximity to

were badly crippled by some disease, the latter country led to a more direct

was an architect as well as a sculptor, Mexican influence. The legend of “The

and while his actual work is a matter of Seven Cities of Cibola 55 led Coronado

dispute, there seems to be no doubt farther north into the Pueblo country

that both as an artist and as the trainer in search of reputed fabulous wealth,

of a group of assistants his influence such as had so richly rewarded Cor-

dominated. Portals, pulpits, fonts, al- tes and Pizarro. Finding none, he re- tars, and stations of the cross, both in treated, leaving the padres to carry out

stone and in wood, in the churches in the work of Christianizing and Span-

LATIN AMERICAN ART 633

iardizing the Pueblos, most of whom were scattered along the Rio Grande Valley.

In the Gulf area, Spanish buildings of various kinds appeared, most prom- inently at New Orleans, where on the Plaza (now Jackson Square) rose the simple Cathedral and the Cabildo, or mu- nicipal building, both basically Spanish but later altered by the French, who in remodeling the buildings super- imposed their own style on that of the Spaniard. More elaborate, though still provincial in comparison with their prototypes in Mexico, are the churches and the convents in Texas and Arizona. San Xavier del Bac (near Tucson) is the most elaborate example of the ultra- baroque style with a local idiom. Lack of stone and of skilled labor resulted in the use of adobe brick, the usual build- ing material of the Indians, for the construction of walls, vaults, and domes. The walls were plastered white, and the ornamentation of molded plaster was concentrated as usual in the central part of the facade. The interior, rich in carvings, gilding, and color, though deriving front Spanish sources, shows many evidences of Indian conception and execution.

In California, which the padres penetrated in the late eighteenth cen- tury, economic conditions and lack of strong Indian building traditions led to one of the simplest expressions of the Spanish baroque — a unique and charming simplicity that fitted local requirements and climatic conditions admirably. In these missions — in their plans, massing of parts, and decorative elements — we see the final dilution of Spanish baroque, even more final than the similar simplification of the style found in somewhat similar conditions in the interior of South America. At times the usual towers are omitted and, as a substitute functionally, the gable is pierced to hold the bells, as at San

Gabriel. This is not a unique solution of the problem of the bell tower, for it is found in Mexico as well.

When we turn, however, to the Pueblo area, we immediately find this Spanish style strongly altered. Here the level of indigenous culture was high and the Pueblos were unusually tena- cious of their heritage, so that the resulting pattern of life was largely Indian, modified by the Spanish con- tribution — sheep and draft animals, plants for an expanded food supply, metal tools, and Christianity. This is seen in the retention of the great com- munal houses, as at Taos , though in smaller adobe houses the addition of portales, or porticoes, and of chimneys reveal a Spanish influence. Everywhere, however, the continued use of the ceremonial kiva is evidence of the con- tinuity of the old religious practices. Hard by stands the inevitable mission church, sometimes of stone, more fre- quently of adobe, with thick, unbro- ken walls, massive buttressing, and roofs of wooden beams which project beyond the walls and are covered with twigs and a layer of adobe. Low, squat bell towers usually flank the facade, which has an open balcony above the entrance that may have served the same function as the open chapel in Mexico and Peru and which breaks the austere surface with its shadow-filled recesses. The interiors with their white- washed walls are as austere as the ex- teriors, except for the beams, or vigas, with their carved brackets and for the sanctuary, toward which the eye is in- evitably guided through the dim light of the nave by the repetition of the vigas, by the focusing of light on the altar from a transverse clerestory, and by the painting and sculpture concen- trated about the sanctuary.

In these paintings and sculptures we find Christian content given native form — a folk art, it perhaps should be called,

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634

For while a limited number of pictures and carvings were imported from Mex- ico and instruction was given the In- dians in European arts from which some creative work resulted, in the rebellion of 1680 most of this, together with the churches themselves, was destroyed, and for a period the Indians were free to express themselves without Spanish domination. Thus cut off from outside contacts, even after the return of the Spanish, Indian artists, notably in the more isolated villages, were thrown upon their own resources and, within the limitations of local materials and of pov- erty but with great intensity of feeling, produced santos that are almost hypnotic in their emotional power. The santos took the form of retablos (paintings) and bultos (carvings in the round), which were used on the altar or carried in rites and festivals. These were figures of saints, mostly Franciscan, as the Fran- ciscans were the chief missionaries in this region, of the Virgin as Mater Do- lorosa , and of Christ, with emphasis upon the Man of Sorrows. Somber in color and passionate in mood is the Cristo of Figure 635A, which, though based upon Spanish realism, in the hands of an impassioned local carver partakes strongly of the abstraction that permeates Indian art. The firm, clean- cut lines, the sharply contrasting light and dark areas, the large eyes, and the rhythmically repeated drops of blood create an effect more filled with anguish than the more realistic Spanish expres- sion.

PAINTING

Painting in Hispanic America, though prolific in quantity, did not show the same inventiveness nor reach the same high level of accomplishment as archi- tecture and carving. It was an almost purely derivative art, in which many painters were technically able, and a

few were distinguished followers of the current Spanish styles. Some reasons for this are clear. It was easy to import paintings and painters, the colonial ideal. Painting was not dependent, as was architecture, on climate, geog- raphy, and materials, and hence re- ceived no challenge or stimulation from changing conditions, nor was it so dependent upon Indian craftsmen, an- other source of growth in a new direc- tion. To be sure, soon after the conquest the friars undertook to teach the In- dians the Spanish mode by giving them paintings to copy. Thus the sixteenth- century frescoes in some of the early fortress-churches, as at Huejotzingo or Actopdn in Mexico, are copies on a large scale of woodcuts from Spanish religious books, carried out in the original black- and-white but never exactly copied.

Another early fusion of Spanish and Indian is even more evident in the post- conquest codices, for which there could be no model, yet which show the result of lessons learned. For here appear ex- periments in the use of light and shade to indicate volume, in linear perspec- tive, and in the introduction of land- scape and interiors in the backgrounds — all in combination with the tradi- tional Indian flat linear style, in which depth was indicated by placing one fig- ure above another with no diminution in size. There is a lively quality about many of these little drawings, as if the artist, though maintaining the integrity of his native style, was delighted to play with the new ideas. Given the oppor- tunity, he might have been able to bring about, through assimilation, an art rooted in native soil yet reaching out in new directions. Instead, undiluted European art was imposed from above. But this fresh growth, submerged by the official art of the Church and the ruling class, was kept alive by the people and formed in the twentieth century a basis fora vital art rooted in its own traditions.

LATIN AMERICAN ART 635

The official painters saw Spanish fashions only and followed first the cur- rent Flemish-Italian styles, or the tene- brist painting of Caravaggio, Ribera, and Zurbaran. Examples are Sebastian Arteaga (1610-about 1656), Baltazar Echave (1582-1650), and Miguel de Santiago (about 1620-1680) — a mes- tizo of Quito who is thought to have traveled in Spain and was versatile in turning to his own purposes as a fully independent artist not only tenehrist effects but the El Greco use of light, the luminosity and the high key of Mu- rillo, and the realism of Velasquez. His contemporary Gorivar Gonzalez (died 1671), however, based his style on that of the Venetians, Tintoretto in par- ticular.

The clear bright color of Italianate painting and the melting light and color of Murillo made a far greater appeal to the Hispanic American than the somber style, and were in greater harmony with the sumptuously carved and gilded altarpieces. Sevillian art shaped the work of Gregorio Vasquez (1638-1711) of Bogota, who was distinguished for his strong draughtsmanship and rich color, and for portraits of great dignity. Juan Rodriguez Juarez (1675-1728) of Mexico also painted in the luminous style of Murillo, as did the prolific Miguel Cabrera (1695-1768), often called the chief of Mexican painters. Cabrera is equally well known for his murals and for his portraits. In the latter he at times rises above the level of the official quality found in so many of his contemporaries and creates a painting which is sensitive both in in- terpretation and in structure. Such is the portrait of Sor Juana Inis de la Cruz (Museo National de Historia, Mexioo), a famous poet. Jose Ibarra (1688-1756) of Mexico shows how the influence of Rubens, through the importation of prints of his work, was adding to the sumptuousness of the baroque.

[a] Cristo: “Man of Sorrows” Wood , covered with gesso and painted; natural hair; cloth garment. H. 65 in. Taylor Museum^ Colorado Springs Fine Art Center. {Taylor Museum)

There are two fields of painting, how- ever, apart from that practiced in the viceregal centers of Mexico, Bogota, Lima, and Quito, in which we find a more authentic expression of Hispanic American life,* One is the so-called school of Cuzco; the other, the popular

RENAISSANCE ART

636

or folk art. In Cuzco we meet the same situation that we found in architecture and carving. Distance from the vice- regal centers, the presence of a powerful indigenous culture, and a predominant Indian element in the population con- scious of a great tradition, brought about enough assimilation to produce a more autochthonous type of expres- sion. An incredible amount of painting issued from the monastic schools, a great deal of it anonymous, to provide for the needs of the capital as well as for those of the other communities of the viceroyalty. Some of the painters fol- lowed the sequence of styles of the mother country; some, especially the mestizo artists, produced austere, hier- atic Madonnas, flat, strongly linear, and richly decorative, with many de- tails, especially in the garments and embroideries, of Inca derivation. Such is the Virgin of Figure 637A. And as we travel into Bolivia and northwestern Argentina we find, just as in the sculp- ture, further simplification, further in- tensity of feeling.

The other field of a more authentic expression may be illustrated by the Mexican retablo, a commemorative or votive picture that relates a miraculous escape from death or a cure from illness through the intercession of some saint. These are small in size, painted on wood, tin, or canvas. Though some were made by well-known painters for the aristocracy, on the whole this was an art of the people. With simple, dra- matic directness, the story was set forth together with a picture of the interced- ing saint and an explanatory text. Some of the retablos were flat and linear, dramatic arrangements of bright color areas, and highly conventional. Others were somewhat more naturalistic, indi- cating some acquaintance with Euro- pean methods of expressing depth and mass. Enormous numbers were made, of uneven quality. But in general they

were infused with a spirit of sinceie, fervid feeling and a vitality that springs from a sentiment deeply rooted in life and expressed by a people with a natu- ral, high esthetic sensitivity.

SUMMARY

Latin American art was basically Spanish and Portuguese art trans- planted to the Americas, where it existed sometimes in purely derivative form — though modified by different climatic and geographical conditions and available materials — particularly in the viceregal capitals and coastal cities; and sometimes so altered by con- tact with a people whose habit of mind and whose art were radically different that the blending of the two produced styles which may be truly called His- panic American. This occurred in the areas where the aboriginal culture had reached a high level, as in Mexico and the Andean regions, and where the in- digenous traditions were strong. It was an art largely at the service of the ruling aristocracy and of the Church and di- rected by these, but actually executed to a large extent by Indian craftsmen, who were endowed with no little tech- nical skill before the coming of the Spaniard. A vast number of buildings were erected, at first chiefly ecclesiasti- cal, later secular also; and they passed through the contemporary European phases of late-Gothic, plateresque, and Herreran, and reached a climax in the eighteenth-century baroque and ultra- baroque, which permeated all the arts.

Sculpture was inextricably allied to architecture — carvings for fagades, re- tables, and altars — and though based on the Spanish polychrome realistic carvings, it frequently showed Spanish realism modified by the Indian and turned toward a simpler, more abstract form. Painting was definitely more derivative than sculpture, though in

[a] Virgin Surrounded by Angels and a Donor. From Cuzco , iyth or 18th cent . International Business Machines Corporation Collection, Mew York City. {International Business Machines Corporation.) The stylized pose and drapery, the magnificent costume with added gold details, and the flat, static quality show Indian workmanship.

Cuzco, Bolivia, and the northern and either in purely indigenous form or with

southern fringes of the Hispanic domain assimilated Hispanic elements. Thus a

the strong indigenous element pro- pure Indian or Indian Hispanic art

duced, through blending, original and existed parallel to the neo-European art,

vital painting. Among the people, es- and it played a decisive role in the vital

pecially away from the centers of Span- twentieth-century renascence of Latin

ish influences, the native arts continued American art.

638 RENAISSANCE ART

BIBLIOGRAPHY Buenos Aires > T 94 2

, and Torre Revello, Jose, Estudiosy

Bandeira, Manoel, Ouro Preto, the Old Villa Rica, Travel in Brazil, Vol. I, No. 4, 1 94 r Documentos de arte Argentina, 21 vols., Buenos Aires, 1939-46

Herndndez de Alba, Guillermo, Teatro del arte colonial, Bogotd, 1938

Kronfuss, Juan, Arquitectura colonial en la Ar- gentina, Cordoba

Noel, Martin S., El Arte en la America Espahola,

38

FRENCH AMERICAN

W HEN news of great wealth pour- ing into the coffers of Spain and reports of huge areas of rich, hitherto unknown lands reached the ears of other European countries, they too, quite nat- urally, became eager for a share, as well as for an opportunity to continue the search for some passage to the fabulous Far East not blocked by Spain and Portugal. Motivation differed with var- ious countries as their backgrounds differed. France was interested not only in the search for a Northwest Passage, but in commercial enterprise, particu- larly the fur trade. Thus from Quebec and Montreal its traders pushed their explorations west and southwest until French forts and trading-posts were strung out over a vast area from the mouth of the St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Mississippi. Other expeditions, exploratory or piratical, established French communities along the Gulf of Mexico, in Florida, in Haiti, and on the northern coast of Brazil. As with the Spaniard, missionaries accompanied the explorers or frequently were themselves the exploring pioneers, seeking friendly intercourse with the Indians, if not their souls and their welfare.

documentos para la histona del arte colonial, 2 vols., Vol. 1, Buenos Aires, 1934 Pagano, Jose L., Historia del arte Argentina, Buenos Aires, 1944

Reis, Jose Maria dos, Historia da pintura no Brazil, Sao Paulo, 1944

Weiss y Sanchez, Joaquin, Arquitectura cubana colonial, Havana, 1936 See also the Bibliography on p. 702.

ART

While a small part of the colonists were landed aristocracy and constituted the ruling class, subject to and patterned after the absolutism of France, the bulk were loyal peasant people of the Roman Catholic faith — farmers, fisherfolk, and craftsmen — who transplanted to the St. Lawrence Valley the pattern of life in Normandy or Brittany, with little attention to the indigenous peoples. For the Indians, a woodland people with no cities, living in wigwams and with skill only in weaving, embroidery, and birch- bark work, seem to have been more strongly influenced by the white man than he was by them, as is seen in the introduction of beads into their em- broidery and in the change from an angular to a curvilinear design, appar- ently brought about by contact with the easy grace of French ornament.

ARCHITECTURE

The vast extent of the French do- main, with such strongly contrasting climatic conditions as the rigorous cold of Quebec and the semitropical heat of New Orleans, with all shades of varia- tion between, required adaptation to

FRENCH AMERICAN ART

639

[a] Ursuline Convent. Three Rivers, Quebec, jyth cent. (S. J. Hay- ward)

climate as well as to local conditions of economy and materials. In the St. Law- rence Valley, stern economic conditions precluded nonessentials. The thrifty, in- dustrious Norman and Breton peasants evolved a simple, direct, and thoroughly adequate type of home, church, and convent out of local material, to meet local needs. Based on inherent French good taste, a distinctive individual style arose. Out of local stone the builders built low, compact, rectangular houses, with walls several feet thick; small win- dows; steeply pitched roofs, sometimes broken by dormers to shed the snow; ^ and stone end gables and chimneys. • The Chdleau de Ramezay (Montreal) is a somewhat elaborate version of the type.

The Church, a dominating element in the fabric of culture, gave importance to the building of churches, monasteries, and convents, which were of the same

materials as the houses and as austerely simple. The early churches were devoid of ornament, but their roofs bore a dis- tinctive mark in the “tin tiles” with which they were covered. These con- sisted of sheets of tin laid diagonally, producing a tilelike appearance, and which, by acquiring a silvery or bronze patina with time, made the roof not Only practical but uniquely satisfying. The interiors of these churches were as unpretentious as the exteriors except for excellent wood-carving about the altars. Schools of wood-carving had been es- tablished in the colonies, and the crafts- manship was on a high level. The designs were simplified current French styles. Monastic institutions were im- portant. The Ursuline Convent (Three Rivers, F'ig. 639A) well illustrates the neat, trim character of all this northern French Colonial building and the pecul-

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iar harmony between the style and its cultural setting. The quiet dignity of its plain walls; the symmetrical, well-spaced windows; its scorn, one is tempted to say, of ornament — these are pecul- iarly expressive of a simple, industrious people living in a rigorous climate.

In the large churches, especially in the cities, classic porches, a reflection of the neoclassic wave in Europe, and two towers were added. After the ces- sion of Canada to England in 1763, English influence, notably Georgian, appears, as in the mansions and the churches of Montreal.

The southward movement into a less rigorous climate brought changes which are clearly evident in the vicinity of St, Louis. Here the combination trad- ing-post and home became a more ex- pansive structure, with the addition of porches, or galleries, and its walls were no longer two feet thick. However, plas- tered stone was still used for building material, though not to the complete exclusion of wood, and the steep gable roof and the stone chimney remained. Still farther south, at New Orleans, the semitropical climate, in combination with the Spanish influence already en- trenched and with different social con- ditions, produced a style that is partly an adaptation of the French and partly a mingling of French and Spanish. 1 The Ursuline Convent and certain houses in the bayou country are evidence of the continuity of the northern French tradition, but the usual type of domicile is the Mediterranean, centering about an open court, a type eminently suited to the climate. The house was built flush with the street and served both as

1 New Orleans was founded by the French in 1718 as a center for trade with the Indians, and was ceded to Spain by the treaty of 1 763. It suffered great fires in 1788 and 1794. In 1801 it was ceded by Spain to France. Thus, as a re- sult of the fires, most of the extant colonial build- ing falls into the late Spanish and second French eras.

a residence and as a shop. It was con- structed of brick, covered usually with colored stucco, and carried iron bal- conies from which the inmates could view the narrow street or make contact with neighbors. Yet the house really faced the paved court, with its fountains and shade trees, which was entered by a passageway, at times large enough for an equipage, protected by heavy doors. The iron balconies (Fig. 641 a), with their lacelike quality and repeated shad- ows, added grace and delicacy to the plain, rather stern walls. They were of two kinds, wrought and cast. Wrought iron, the older and often imported, is simpler in design and of painstaking craftsmanship. Cast iron lends itself to more intricate designs, which here in- clude monograms and motifs of local flora. Other uses of iron were for elabo- rately designed benches and street lamps and for gracefully ornamented grilles which served as gates to protect the court and at the same time admitted a current of air.

Within, such homes of the wealthy had large, high, stately rooms with spiral staircases and carved balusters, fine paneling and mantles, and crystal chandeliers. The furnishings were pre- dominantly French. Much of the furni- ture — tables, chairs, chests, and great wardrobes — was imported, but much also was made by skilled local crafts- men from the abundant local materials, such as cypress.

This, then, was a type of house well adapted to a compact walled city. Out- side, extending over great areas of rich farm land, plantations developed, which produced great wealth for the owners and, led to the building of houses as fine as those in the city but of a type adapted in both plan and arrangement to a dif- ferent site. The plantation house was two stories high, the lower serving as a basement because of the water-soaked soil, the upper as the living-quarters of

FRENCH AMERICAN ART

[a] Cast-Iron Double Balcony. 805 Esplanade Avenue, New Orleans . c. 1850. ( Clarence John Laughlin )

the family. It was built of brick below and wood above, was rather long and rectangular, and instead of facing an inner court, opened outward onto wide verandas shaded by the overhanging roof. These verandas were supported by sturdy brick piers; the roofs, by slender wooden columns. Wide doors and win- dows opened on the shady verandas, thus providing a free current of air. These plantation houses resembled those of Haiti and Santo Domingo, whence refugees fled to Louisiana at the time of the revolution on that island, and also the plantation houses of northern Brazil. The urban French of New Or- leans seems repeated in the colored stucco houses with delicate iron bal- conies seen in northern Brazil — in Be- lem and Sao Luiz, for example. Thus cultural areas do not coincide with na- tional areas, but the two overlap at

many points under the controlling in- fluences of forces other than political . 1

SUMMARY

As the French colonies spread out loosely over a vast area from rigorous Quebec to semitropical New Orleans and tropical Haiti and northern Brazil, French colonial art was as diversified as its geography. On the northern fringe, in Canada, the style of Brittany and Normandy, adapted to a far more rigorous climate, produced compact, thick-walled stone houses and churches as simple and unpretentious as the in- dustrious, devout people who built

1 On this point of overlapping cultures, in" its modem as well as its colonial aspect, see R, S„ Platt, Latin America, Countrysides and United Regions , Chap. XII, Whittlesey House,

1943 - '

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them, and sparse of ornament except for excellent wood-carving. In the mid- dle Mississippi regions, the type ex- panded under the influence of a milder climate until in the semitropical and tropical regions of the Caribbean area it gave way, almost exclusively, to the Mediterranean type of house of colored- stucco finish and handsome iron bal- conies, built about garden patios. This was an urban shop-house. In the rich agricultural sections, the plantation house was compact, open to the out- of-doors, and shaded by verandas — - a style arising out of its own environment. The furnishings of French colonial houses were usually in good taste, in harmony with the house as a unit, and ranged from the simple, robust peasant styles in Canada to the more elegant and aristocratic styles in New Orleans. Though secular art was predominant, ecclesiastical art was not neglected; but it was not as overpowering as in the Hispanic colonies — a reflection of the relative power of the Church in France and in Spain.

39

ENGLISH AMERICAN

T HE English were motivated not by the desire for gold and for ex- ploitation of natural resources for the benefit of a European crown, but by a desire to trade in furs and fish and to settle and build communities in which they could pursue a way of life that would assure them a measure of inde- pendence politically, economically, and religiously. For these colonists came from those parts of Europe which had been affected by the Reformation and

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barbeau, Charles M., Quebec , Where Ancient France Lingers, Macmillan, 1 936

— — Deux cents arts d'arfevrerie chez nous ,

in Memoires de la Societe Royale du Canada, 3rd Series, Vol. 33, Sect. I 1939 Carless, William, The Arts and Crafts of Canada, Montreal, 1925

The Architecture of French Canada,

McGill University, Montreal, 1925 New Orleans City Guide, Houghton Mifflin, 1938 Old Manors, Old Houses {Quebec) , Historical Monu- ments Commission of the Province of Quebec, 1st Series, 1927 Ricciuti, Italo W., New Orleans and Its Environs, William Helburn, 1938

Spratling, William P., and Scott, Natalie, Old Plantation Houses in Louisiana, William Hel- burn, 1927

Traquair, Ramsay, The Old Silver of Qyebec, Toronto, 1940

— • — The Old Architecture of Quebec,

Toronto, 1947

— Old Churches and Church Carvings

in the Province of Quebec, McGill University, Montreal, 1928

— — - — — No. 92 St. Peter Street , Quebec, a

Quebec Merchant’s House of the XVIII Century , McGill University, Montreal, 1930 - — — — - — — , and Barbeau, Charles M., The Church of Sainte Famille, Island of Orleans, Quebec, McGill University, Montreal, 1926

ART

by a break in the feudal system. Thus they prepared a fertile soil for the de- velopment of complete self-government and religious freedom. There was no powerful Church-State to dominate their activities. Except in the moderate baronial life of the South, there was no entrenched feudal system with a landed aristocracy to dominate their economics, as in the Hispanic colonies. Greater social and political equality existed here, on the whole, than any-

ENGLISH AMERICAN ART

643

liiuimiA!

[a] Peirce-Nichols House. Salem, c. ijgo. {Essex Institute)

on the basis of slave labor they devel- oped plantations for the production of tobacco and cotton, from which they acquired great wealth. Thus in the country, to a greater extent than in the cities, rose the fine mansions of a more aristocratic people, who kept in fairly close touch with the home country and preferred to import thence rather than to encourage local talent.

Both North and South, however, took the same attitude toward the Indians, who were woodland tribes, with no cities, and with an art expression only in objects of daily life. There was no assimilation of cultures, no intermin- gling such as produced the mestizo class in the Spanish and Portuguese

where else in the New World, and greater homogeneity despite local di- versity. For diversity did exist between the Northern and Southern colonies, due to differences of climate and back- ground. To the North came sturdy, thrifty middle-class colonists, including many craftsmen, with few from the edu- cated classes and still fewer from the wealthy group. In this cold, nonagri- cultural, heavily timbered country, they built ships with which they developed a rich trade; and flourishing seaports arose, where most of the population centered and where democratic ideas flourished. In the warm, agriculturally rich South, on the other hand, the col- onists came from the Cavalier class, and

644

RENAISSANCE ART

[a] St, Michael’s. Charleston . 1752-61. Compare the portico and spire with those in Fig. 5QtB. ( Carolina Art Association)

colonies, but a consistent segregation, a pushing of the aborigines ever farther westward. Thus there was no indigenous cultural influence upon the arts of the colonists, which were English arts trans- planted to primitive conditions and adapted to a new climatic and a new cultural environment.

ARCHITECTURE

Evidence of this background is seen in the emphasis upon the types of buildings erected by the colonists — the home, the church, and the town hall — and in the equality of treatment, as to pretentiousness or unpretentiousness, of the three types. The earliest buildings were naturally in the style with which tihe colonists were familiar, the late me- dieval of the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras translated into a timber construc- tion and adapted in the North to a more rigorous climate. They were usually clapboarded, had steep roofs, brick chimneys, and small windows, few in number and with leaded panes, as in the Whipple House (Ipswich, Massachu- setts; about 1650), All buildings and their furnishings were simple, direct, and functional, with sparse ornament.

With the coming of the eighteenth century, the accumulation of wealth and more frequent communication with England were reflected in the introduc- tion of the Renaissance, or Georgian, style, then dominant in England. Thence followed the full flowering of the Colonial style, which appears in the homes of the rich merchants of the sea- port cities and in the mansions of the Southern estates. The Peirce- Nichols House (Salem, Massachusetts; Fig. 643 a) is an example of the former. Symmetry of plan and elevation, flat roof, regu- larity of spacing in the fagade, the accent on the entrance, the individual treatment of each window, the corner pilasters, the cornice and roof balus- trade — all these elements reflect the Renaissance and can be traced, by way of England, to such a distant ancestor as the Famese Palace (Fig. 458B), and as in Rome, so in Salem, they produce an impression of dignity and well-being.

A more genial dignity pervades the houses in the Middle and Southern col- onies. Life here was less drab, more gay

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645

[a] Woodlands. Philadelphia. Rebuilt ij88-8g- {Detroit Publishing Co.)

and luxurious. The two-storied pedi- mented portico of Woodlands (Philadel- phia; Fig. 645A) strikes a note of stately hospitality. The strict regularity is bro- ken by circular bays on the sides and by the arched windows of the ground story, Palladian in design. Most of these houses were placed with careful regard for natural surroundings. Trees, hedges, spacious lawns, and gardens contributed to the qualities of the building itself. 1

As eighteenth-century exteriors ac- cented the entrance, so the interiors emphasized the central hall, with its straight or winding stairway and rooms symmetrically arranged on each side. Here wood again predominated. Pine, locally abundant, and adaptable for carving because of its softness and fine

1 Mention should be made of the restoration of Williamsburg, Virginia. Not only the build- ings and their furnishings but also the grounds anH gardens have been carefully restored to give as complete a picture as possible of an important eighteenth-century colonial city.

grain combined with its durability, was used extensively for stairways, over- mantels, doorways, and paneling. The stairway was given especial attention by carved balusters and walnut or mahog- any rails. The paneling was adapted to the area to be covered, with a high de- gree of sensitivity. Sometimes it sheathed the entire room, or again it was used only on the wall containing the fire- place — • the chief feature of the room, about which were assembled the family portraits, silver, brasses, and porcelain. Carvings, classic or Renaissance in mo- tif, accented the overmantel, the fin- ishing cornice, and the doorways, thus enriching the simple geometric pattern of the walls. The skill and delicacy of the work of Samuel Mclntire of Salem, one of the well-known carvers, reveal the influence of Robert Adam (Fig. 593A). The same carpenters and carvers who built New England houses also built the ships that produced the wealth which enabled merchants to build and

646 RENAISSANCE ART

[ a ] Paul Revere. Silver Creamer. H. J in. ijgg. Museum of Fine Arts , Boston. (. Boston Museum)

furnish fine houses. These same crafts- men carved for the prows boldly strong figureheads — one of the few kinds of sculpture produced among the image- hating Puritans.

The churches were reproductions in wood or brick, with modifications, of English Protestant churches: a simple meeting-hall with a belfry or spire. At first, particularly in the Puritan North, they were as bleakly austere in appear- ance as the worshipers were uncom- promising in their religious faith and practice — for example, the Old North Church and Old South Church (Boston). Later, under the influence of Wren and Gibbs in England, the spire took on Renaissance details and a portico was added, as in St. Paul’s (New York), Center Church (New Haven), and St. Michaels (Charleston; Fig. 644A).

The fine woodwork in the colonial homes was set off by, and itself set off, the dark walnut or mahogany furniture. Current European fashions dictated the furniture too — Chippendale, Hepple- white, Sheraton, French rococo — though much of it was the work of American craftsmen, and the products of some of the cabinetmakers’ shops in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia were equal in design and craftsmanship to those imported from London. Such a shop was that of Duncan Phyfe of New York.

Within this framework of the room and its furniture the products of various craftsmen contributed notes of color and texture — iron, brass, pewter, silver, glass, textiles, costumes. Despite its Eu- ropean derivation, a new spirit in- fused this interior architecture, welding it into an extraordinary unity of vigor, restraint, and fine taste.

Especial mention perhaps should be made of the silver. For, in the absence of banks, family wealth often consisted of silver objects, and the family silver, the pride of the family for generations, proclaimed both its social and its eco- nomic position. Thus the silversmith held a more distinctive place in the community than the other craftsmen, and an exceptional quality was de- manded in his products. A pitcher by Paul Revere, for example (Fig. 646A), has an architectural quality in the fine relationships of its mass and contour, the subordination of the restrained or- nament to a direct clarity of form, and a fine balance between the smooth un- broken and the rough broken surfaces.

PAINTING

The family portraits which play a conspicuous part in the ensemble of the colonial interior reveal the chief func- tion of the painter in the English col- onies. At first a painter could find little

ENGLISH AMERICAN ART

647

[a] Unknown Artist. Mrs. Freake and. Baby Mary. c. 1674. Private Collection. ( Worcester Art Museum )

demand for his services. What few pic- tures there were had been brought over from Europe. In Puritan New England strong religious prejudice against art, born of the Reformation in Europe, confined the painter to such activities as coach- and sign-painting.

To surmount this prejudice, however, became none too difficult when the colonists grew wealthy and wanted por- traits not only to decorate their walls but also to hand on to posterity “lest their efforts to found families and states be forgotten.” 1 Hence there arose a de- mand for the portrait that was met by untrained enthusiasts, or low-rate lim- ners or face-painters, who had come to the New World perhaps for adventure.

1 F. J. Mather, G. R. Morey, and J. H. Hen- derson, The American Spirit in Art, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1927, p. 4.

The Cavaliers of the South, however, in closer contact with England, had their portraits painted in London, with personal sittings if possible, otherwise from verbal description. European painters, learning of this need, began to arrive to meet it. They not only painted portraits themselves but stim- ulated the development of the art by bringing engravings of European paint- ings and by giving instruction to the untrained local face-painters. Those who came from Holland to New Nether- lands showed evidence of descent from Hals; those from England, the influ- ence of the English portrait school.

An early arrival was John Smibert of Edinburgh (1688-1751), as “profes- sor of drawing, painting, and architec- ture in the college of science and art which Berkeley proposed to found in

648 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Copley. Lady Wentworth. 1765. New York Public Library. {New York Public Library)

Bermuda for the benefit of the American Indian” 1 - — a utopian dream soon blasted. Smibert’s group portrait, Bishop Berkeley and His Entourage , in comparison with the work of the limners shows a certain amount of professional resource- fulness in drawing, handling pigment, and composition, notwithstanding his rather mediocre ability. The works of the local limners, however, often reveal a certain vigor, frank objectivity, and intuitive capacity, as one sees in such a portrait as Mrs. Freake and Baby Mary (Fig. 647 a) by an anonymous painter.

Besides John Smibert, other painters arrived to contribute to the accumulat- ing local endeavor, which reached a climax in John Singleton Copley ( 1737- 1815). Beyond help in rudiments from his stepfather and opportunity to see some paintings and engravings, Copley was self-educated in his pre-European

1 F. W. Bayley, Five Colonial Artists of New England, privately printed, 1929, p. 336.

work. In his Lady Wentworth (Fig. 648A) he shows some grasp of the figure, whose stiffness is an evidence partly of propriety and partly of a lack of ease on the part of a painter untrained pro- fessionally. There is a generally hard effect and an overemphasis upon con- trasting lights and darks, and an in- ability to fuse them or to utilize them as pattern; a fondness for the texture of satin, laces, and other fine stuffs; and an intentional realism in details, for straightforward objectivity was the painter’s purpose. Copley established his permanent residence in England after 1774; and in proportion as he gained professionally he lost in forthright can- dor of characterization. For despite their technical weaknesses, the portraits of his Colonial period possess an unpretentious directness and sheer force of charac- terization. Such an accomplishment* had it been grounded in the needed professional training, might conceivably have produced a truly indigenous art of high quality. But the potentialities of provincial life as a motivation of art expression passed unnoticed. Copley’s choice to remain in England meant an increased facility in handling pig- ment, but a general weakening of his genuine ability. This was the first of a long series of similar choices that have throttled a normal evolution of art ex- pression in this country.

Instead, “To London” filled the air. To be sure, it was necessary for tech- nical training. But at that few stopped. Benjamin West (1738-1820), for ex- ample, after an adventurous and now legendary youth, set out for Italy in 1 760 through the financial assistance of a rich patron and came to London at the time when Sir Joshua Reynolds was the revered president of the Royal Acad- emy. Falling into the current styles, West became popular and wealthy, made a grandiloquent gesture by re- fusing knighthood, and upon the death

ENGLISH AMERICAN ART 649

of Sir Joshua in 1 792 became president of the Academy. His studio was a mecca for American students during and for a generation after the War of Independ- ence and thus brought American paint- ing into close affiliation with English traditions. In addition, West introduced historical, mythological, and religious subjects in the “grand manner” — an influence of French Romanticism — but with none of the fire of a Delacroix and with little or no conviction.

Portrait-painting continued in the colonies, more and more under the in- fluence of the English school, and also under that of the French. 1 Gilbert Stuart seems to be the most individual painter of the generation, and despite long residence in London, freer from imitating the styles with which he came in contact. With a real feeling for his medium, he built up a vibrant surface of loose virile strokes that has its own esthetic value. Mrs. Tates (Fig. 649A) for example, illustrates his sureness of tech- nique and his use of it to set forth his subject with objective reality and inter- pretive probity.

SUMMARY

English colonial art was at first late- medieval English art (Elizabethan, Jacobean), and later Georgian, trans- planted to a land where climatic and economic conditions required adapta- tion, such as the substitution of timber for brick or stone. As the Indians were either exterminated or pushed west- ward, there was no influence of the indigenous arts. The home, the church, and the town hall were the chief types of buildings erected, with the home per- haps claiming chief attention. Thus fine houses arose in the Northern seaports and on the Southern plantations — in

1 Ralph Earle (1751-1801); Matthew Pratt (1734-1805); Charles W. Peale (1741-1827); and Gilbert Stuart (1755-1828).

[a] Stuart. Mrs. Richard Tates. 1793. Mellon Collection , National Gallery of Art, Washington. (, National Gallery)

both cases Georgian in style, but more austere in the North, more expansive and genial in the South. Their interiors displayed fine woodwork, English styles of furniture (though much of it was made in the colonies), silver, and glass. Painting was confined chiefly to por- traiture, at first the work of the limner, later that of painters in London or of American painters trained there. Sculp- ture, banned by the Puritans, was al- most nonexistent except for the virile carvings found in hitching posts and ship figureheads.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Folk Art, Colonial Williamsburg, Inc., 1940

American Folk Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1932

Art in America from 1600 to 1865, University of Chicago Press, 1934

RENAISSANCE ART

650

Avery, C. L., Early American Silver, Century,

1930

Barker, Virgil, A Critical Introduction to American Painting, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City, 1931 Beard, C. A., and Mary, The Rise of American Civilization, 2 vols., Macmillan, 1927 Briggs, M. S., The Homes of the Pilgrim Fathers in England and America, 1620-1685, Oxford University Press, 1932

Burroughs, Alan, Limners and Likenesses, Harvard University Press, 1936

CafAn, G. H., American Masters of Sculpture , Doubleday, Page, 1913

The Story of American Painting,

Stokes, 1915

Cahill, Holger, and Barr, Alfred H., Jr., Art in America, Halcyon House, 1939 Chamberlain, Samuel, New England Doorways, Hastings House, 1939

Clarke, T. B., Portro Is by Early American Artists of the Seventeenth, Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, Museum of Art, Philadelphia, 1928

Cornelius, C. O., Early American Furniture, Century, 1926

Furniture Masterpieces of Duncan

Phyfe, Doubleday, Page, 1922 Cousins, Frank, and Riley, P. M., The Colonial Architecture of Philadelphia, Little, Brown, 1920

• — The Colonial Architectwe of Salem ,

Little, Brown, 1919

— — — The Wood-Carver of Salem: Samuel

Mclntire, His Life and Work, Little, Brown, 1916

Drepperd, Carl W., American Pioneer Arts & Artists, Pond-Ekberg, 1942 Eberlein, H. D., The Architecture of Colonial America, Little, Brown, 1915 - — , and McClure, Abbot, The Prac-

tical Book of Early American Arts and Crafts, Lippincott, 1916

Embury, Aymar, Jr., Early American Churches, Doubleday, Page, 1914

Flexner, James T., America's Old Masters, Viking, 1939

Foote, H, W., Robert Feke, Colonial Portrait Painter, Harvard University Press, 1930 Forbes, Esther, Paul Revere and the World He Lived In, Houghton Mifflin, 1942 Great Georgian Houses of America, 2 vols., Archi- tects’ Emergency Committee, 1933, 1937 Hagen, Oskar F. L., The Birth of the American Tradition in Art, Scribner, 1940 Halsey, R. T. H., and Cornelius, C. O., A Handbook of the American Wing, Metropoli- tan Museum of Art, New York City, t932

Hamlin, T. F., The American Spirit in Architecture,

Yale University Press, 1926 ( Pageant of America, Vol. 13)

Hipkiss, Edwin J., Eighteenth-Century American Arts, Harvard University Press, 1941 Index of American Design, Folk Art of Rural Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania Art Project, Works Progress Administration Pennsylvania German Designs, Metro- politan Museum of Art, New York City,, 1943

Isham, Samuel, The History of American Painting, rev. by Royal Cortissoz, Macmillan, 1927 Jackman, R. E., American Arts, Rand, McNally, 1928

Kimball, Sidney F., American Architecture , Bobbs-Merrill, 1930

Domestic Architecture of the American

Colonies and of the Early Republic , Scribner, 1922

Mr. Samuel Mclntire, Carver, the

Architect of Salem, Southworth-Anthoensen Press, 1940

La Follette, Suzanne, Art in America , Harper,

1930

Laughton, L. G. C., Old Ship Figure-heads and Sterns, Minton, Balch, 1925 Lee, Cuthbert, Early American Portrait Painters, Yale University Press, 1929 Lipman, Jean, American Primitive Painting, Ox- ford University Press, 1 942 Mather, Frank J., Jr., Estimates in Art, Series II, Holt, 1931

— , Morey, Charles R., and Hender-

son, William J., The American Spirit in Art, Yale University Press, xg27 {Pageant of America, Vol. 12)

Mumford, Lewis, Sticks and Stones, a Study of American Architecture and Civilization, Boni & Liveright, 1924

Murrell, William, A History of American Graphic Humor, Vol. I, Whitney Museum of Ameri- can Art, New York City, 1934 Neuhaus, Eugen, History and Ideals of American Art, Stanford University Press, 1931 Park, Lawrence, comp., Gilbert Stuart, with an appreciation by Royal Cortissoz, 4 vols., Rudge, 1926

Pinckney, Pauline A., American Figureheads and Their Carvers , Norton, 1940 Ros6, Grace N., Williamsburg Today and Yesterday, Putnam, 1940

Rourke, Constance, Roots of American Culture, Harcourt, Brace, 1942

Sherman, F. F., Early American Painting, Cen- tury. 1932

Early American Portraiture, privately

printed, 1930

Swan, Mabel M., Samuel Mclntire , Carver, and the Sandersons, Early Salem Cabinet Makers, Essex Institute, Salem, Mass., 1934

ENGLISH AMERICAN ART

Taft, Lorado, The History of American Sculpture, rev. ed., Macmillan, 1924 Tallmadge, T. E., The Story of Architecture in America, Norton, 1927

Walker, John, and James, Macgill, Great Ameri-

40

INDIAN ART

S EVERAL groups of Indians profited profoundly by the coming of the Europeans, because the white man brought them the material means whereby they brought their native cul- ture into flowering without accepting European forms. Chief of these were the Northwest Coast, the Plains, and the Navaho tribes.

Northwest Coast Indian Art

HPHE Indians of the coasts of British JL Columbia and southeastern Alaska were a fishing and hunting people who lived on an irregular rocky coast from which heavily timbered mountains rose abruptly. This timber, largely cedar, which grows to an enormous size, and the products of their hunting provided them with the raw materials not only for food, clothing, houses, and canoes, but also for all those objects of everyday and ceremonial life which constituted their art expression. Shell, bone, horn, and skins were abundant, but above all wood, and as a result these Northwest Coast tribes were the best woodworkers in America. Wealth from the fur trade with the Hudson’s Bay Company and metal obtained from the white man in the eighteenth century brought the art

651

can Paintings fromSmibert to Bellows, iysg~igs4, Oxford University Press, 1943 Weitenkampf, Frank, American Graphic Art, new ed,, Macmillan, 1924

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

of wood-carving to an apogee in the nineteenth. Since then the culture has so far deteriorated that its art is neg- ligible.

How this material should be used was definitely determined by their re- ligious and especially by their social patterns; and their decorative designs, though infused with religio-social sym- bolism, derived from their own imme- diate realm of nature — beaver and seal, hawk and eagle, killer whale and shark, bear, wolf, frog, snail, raven, and dragonfly. It was a highly conventional, in fact highly stylized, art. “This art style can be fully understood only as an integral part of the structure of Northwest Coast culture. The funda- mental idea underlying the thoughts, feelings, and activities of these tribes is the value of rank which gives title to the use of privileges, most of which find expression in artistic activities or in the use of art forms. Rank and social posi- tion bestow the privilege to use certain animal figures as paintings or carvings on the house front, on totem poles, on masks and on the utensils of everyday life. Rank and social position give the right to tell certain tales referring to ancestral exploits; they determine the songs which may be sung. . . . A similar relation, although not quite so intimate,

652

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S^SMPIhH

[a] Carved Goat Horn Spoon Handles. North- west Coast Indian. Ameri- can Museum of Natural History , New Tork City. (. American Museum of Natural History)

prevails in the relation of religious ac- tivities and manifestations of art. It is as though the heraldic idea had taken hold of the whole life and had permeated it with the feeling that social standing must be expressed at every step by heraldry which, however, is not con- fined to space forms alone but extends over literary, musical and dramatic ex- pression.” 1

Notwithstanding its conventionality and heraldic significance, it was a purely utilitarian art. The largest of the trees were scooped out into canoes (at times forty or more feet in length), which served as the chief means of transportation for both hunting and pleasure. The Haida Indians of Queen Charlotte Islands were particularly fa- mous for their canoes, which were not only seaworthy but also shaped with a feeling for proportion and for the qual-

1 Franz Boas, Primitive Art , Harvard Uni- versity Press, 1927, p. 280, by permission of the publishers.

ity of line in their curving prows and sterns, which were carved or painted with the heraldic devices of the owner, who considered his canoe one of his most-prized possessions. From the abun- dant timber they built also their sturdy wooden houses, for which they cut planks sometimes sixty feet long. They also cut single poles nearly a hundred feet high, to be carved with totems — that is, with heraldic designs (derived usually from animals or birds) — which were the mark and the prerogative of the family or clan, or which illustrated a story or a myth (Fig. 653A). In carv- ing these poles the cylindrical mass and the rounding surface of the pole were never lost. Only enough was cut away to leave clearly defined, with the help of conventional color, the totems, which were large in scale and imposing in their simplified conventional form. Fre- quently additional totems, adapted to flat design, were painted on the front wall of the house (Fig. 655A).

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Another closely allied field for the wood-carver was the making of the masks which served purposes of magic and played an important part in the ceremonial dances that often were dra- matic presentations of legends. These masks were sometimes human, more often birds or animals or legendary monsters. They were frequently very large in size, were made of several parts, and so contrived mechanically that they could be manipulated with strings, thus enabling the actor to achieve strange effects, such as opening the mouth of one monster only to disclose another within. As for their esthetic significance, some possessed a superior quality as wood-carving, in which conventional color had been used as an additional element to clarify and accent.

In the furnishings of their houses, the Indians’ first regard was for the purpose of the object, its material, and the rank of the owner. With pottery unknown, wood again was the chief material, and out of single pieces were carved killing clubs, grease and food trays, bowls, spoons, and ladles, large for ceremonial use, small for everyday use. Since fat was always an important item in the diet of these Northerners, the grease dish for the fish and seal oil was more elaborate than the other dishes and was often heavily carved, painted, and in- laid with abalone and other shells. Spoons and ladles sometimes had horn handles or were made entirely of the horn of the mountain goat by boiling the horn until it was pliable, then shap- ing it in a mold, and finally carving the handle with totemic designs (Fig. 652 a). Among their sparse furnishings boxes and chests played an important part, and even in large chests the four sides were made of one plank, which had been steamed by very primitive methods un- til pliant, and then bent to form the corners. These boxes and chests were carved and painted in red, black and

[a] Indian Village Street Showing Totem Poles. British Columbia. (. American Museum of Natural History)

blue (Fig. 6 55c) . The blue was used least, since the material from which it was made was rare and difficult to obtain.

In these carvings, whether on wooden dishes, spoon handles, boxes, or totem poles, a unity of style is apparent, a common attitude toward the forms of nature that serve as the raw material of the artist. For it is not the animal’s appearance from which the artist draws his material, but his knowledge of its essential parts, each of which he has reduced to a conventional unit and combined according to the space to be filled. Each unit is based upon its most characteristic aspect, quite regardless of a consistent point of view; some from

654 RENAISSANCE ART

[a] Chilkat Blanket with Bear Design. Of wild goat's wool and cedar bark. Light yellow, turquoise blue , white , and black. Such blankets were used as ceremonial cloaks. Chicago Nat- ural History Museum. (. American Museum of Natural History)

front view, some profile, some from above. For example, in the killer-whale design the essential features — the long head with large mouth and prominent teeth, the dorsal fin, the body, the tail — have been reduced to almost geo- metric patterns and combined to fill a rectangular space: the full-face head in the center at the top flanked on each side by the dorsal fin; below, the head in profile repeated bilaterally; at the bottom, the tail, the body, and the dorsal fin repeated and combined. So conventionalized are these parts that cedar stencils are made for each unit, allowing a great variety of grouping, depending on the shape and size of the space to be filled. In a similar way the head of an animal may be shown front view and the body cleft into two parts and spread out laterally (Fig. 655A), again forming a highly decorative pat-

tern. This is the same attitude toward treating the figure that one sees in Chinese bronzes (Fig. 21 1 a).

So conventional a style is translatable into various mediums, Hence we are not surprised to find that the woven blan- kets are similar in style to the carvings and the paintings on skins. In the field of weaving the Chilkat Blankets of wild goat’s wool and cedar bark were woven in designs similar to those found in the carvings, and usually with totemic sig- nificance. Figure 654A has the bear de- sign, woven in yellow, white, blue, and black. The central panel contains the front view of the face and various parts of the body; the side panels contain the profile view, stylized to the point of un- intelligibility — at times even to the Indian, as it was in the Pueblo pottery designs. These blankets were used only on ceremonial occasions and were worn

INDIAN ART

6 55

[b] Tlingit Basket. Alaska. Woven of spruce roots with design of colored grasses. Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New fork City. (. Museum of the American Indian,

[a] Bear Design. Painting on a house front. Compare this painted design of curving shapes with the angular woven design in Fig. 6555, each excellently

Heye Foundation)

adapted to its medium.

[c] Carved and Painted Wooden Chest. L. 19 in. Haida Indian. National Museum, Wash- ington. ( National Museum )

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about the shoulders over a tunic woven with a similar pattern. The accompany- ing leggings of skins were painted and decorated with bits of bone or ivory which clinked with the movements of the dance; and there was an elaborate headdress of abalone shell and ermine — a costume of elegance and taste and worthy to uphold the dignity of the family or the clan. These blankets were woven by the women on the most primi- tive looms according to designs drawn on boards by the men.

The Tlingit Baskets , exclusively the work of the women, were woven from grasses and fern stems and were used for various household purposes, for berry- ing in particular; they were woven finely and tightly enough to serve as drinking-cups. They were all decorated, by varying the weave or by the intro- duction of colored weft, or by wrapping colored grasses around the weft strand on the outside. The decorative motifs thus worked out look geometric but have names, showing that originally they had a meaning, although it has frequently been lost. Many of these baskets, especially those used for berry- ing, are cylindrical in shape, with the decoration concentrated in zones (Fig. 6 55 b ).

The Plains Indian Art

T HE Plains Indians, numbering more than thirty tribes, occupied the Great Plains and Rocky Mountain regions. Before the arrival of the Euro- peans they were seminomadic peoples, small farmers and narrow-range hunt- ers, dependent chiefly upon the buffalo for food, clothing, and coverings, and using only the dog for a draft animal. It seems to have been a pinched life, with a negligible art expression. The coming of the horse, however, which was brought into the country by Coronado

in the sixteenth century, changed their whole pattern of life; it transformed them into wide-ranging, dashing hunters and, with the rise of competition among the tribes, into fierce warriors. Now they could range far and swiftly and thus secure plentiful supplies of food and materials from the great buffalo herds. With a flair for the dra- matic, they proclaimed their wealth and economic status by the number of their horses and by the splendor of their costumes and trappings. In their new, fully nomadic life, they could use only nonbreakable and portable ar- ticles. Even their houses, tipis made of skins, were easily portable. So, with the exception of fashioning weapons and peace pipes, or calumets, which they decorated with hair, beads, and feath- ers, their art expression was restricted to the embellishment of everyday ob- jects. On their clothing they lavished their decorative skill until they evolved a costume that was not only adapted to the climate but highly expressive of their dashing spirit. Made of the skins of buffalo, deer, elk, and various smaller animals, such as the beaver, it was orna- mented with fringes, porcupine quills, beads, and painting, and crowned by an elaborate headdress of feathers which fell from the head to the feet.

Quillwork was a peculiarly American craft, found among other tribes as well as among the Plains Indians. It is a kind of embroidery, and because of the nature of the medium it is angular and geometric. In the rare cases in which representative motifs were used, they took on a highly abstract form.

Beadwork blossomed out into a major kind of ornament with the introduction of glass and porcelain beads from Europe. Before the coming of the white man, shells, stones, and seeds had been used. The new material provided both color and flexibility of design, and while the patterns continued to be chiefly

INDIAN ART

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[a] Painted Shield Cover. Kiowa, Oklahoma. D. 20 in. National

Museum )

angular and geometric, some floral mo- tifs appear with curved flowing lines, probably due to the influence of the French with whom the Plains Indians traded in the Mississippi Valley.

Painting was used to decorate not only clothing but also tipis and shield covers, and to commemorate some fight or hunt by a pictorial representation on a buffalo skin. A design on a Shield Cover (Fig. 657A), perhaps of magical significance, contrasts light and dark areas and geometric and naturalistic shapes to produce a striking, virile ef- fect. It was an art of line and flat areas of color, truly two-dimensional, full of life and vitality in the fighting and hunting scenes, quietly abstract in the nonrepresentational designs. It is in- teresting to note that these two widely varying kinds of painting were a sex variation in the craft, the men pro- ducing the representational scenes on shields and hides, the women the non- representational or geometric designs on clothing, bags, and containers.

Navaho Art

ANOTHER Indian tribe which l \ owed its flowering to the gift of the white man was the Navaho. The Navaho entered the Pueblo area from the northwest about seven hundred years ago, and as raiding nomads they had no little effect upon the harassed Pueblos’ concentration in and final abandonment of their villages. The art of the Navaho was negligible until the Spaniards brought them animals, tools, plants, and, somewhat later, silver. The sheep and the horse became vital in their economy — - the sheep both for food and wool, the horse for mobility, enabling them to roam more widely for pasturage in their semiarid plateau land. The ad- dition by the Spaniards of a number of plants to those the Navaho had learned of from the Pueblos (for the Navahos were masters in the art of borrowing and assimilating) led some to become farmers, but the majority remained

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seminomadic, roaming widely with their sheep in summer but staying close to their hogans, or winter log houses, in the cold months. They had no villages. In this environment they developed three arts: weaving, silverwork, and ceremonial rites.

Something of the weaving craft they had learned from the Pueblos, with whom they came into more intimate contact in the rebellion of 1680. It was a craft pursued by the women only; it met a daily need in a cold country; and it could be carried on under the condi- tions of their seminomadic life. The loom, made of logs, could be set up in the open, often attached to a supporting pole of the summer tent. The blankets and rugs were of tapestry weave, usu- ally interlocked, thick and strong, and the patterns were boldly geometric, straight and angular (Fig. 659A). The older blankets were designed in stripes, and the colors were few besides the natural black, white, and gray of the wool. Later the introduction of bayeta, an English cloth which they unraveled to secure red threads, enriched their color schemes and in combination with varied and effectively spaced geometric motifs brought the art to a climax in the nineteenth century.

Silver, introduced from Mexico about 1850, was used for making bracelets, buttons, necklaces, and bridles, and was enriched with contrasting turquoise and coral. The finest pieces were hand-ham- mered or cast; the turquoises were hand- cut and polished to a soft dull finish; and the designs were as boldly simple as those of the blankets.

In Navaho ceremonial rites, notably in their sand painting, we find a unique aboriginal art, whose rudiments may have been learned from the Pueblos but which reached, in the hands of the Nav- aho, a lofty climax in which ancient religious significance and high esthetic value are inextricably intermingled.

Sand painting was but one phase of a curative ceremonial which included chanting, dancing, and costuming. The more elaborate rites, such as the Moun- tain Chant or the Night Chant, lasted as long as nine days. Lacking a written language, by means of these ceremonials the Navaho kept alive the legends and beliefs, the rich mythology and poetry of their tribe, cured illnesses, and pro- vided a focus for social life among a seminomadic people. The sand paint- ings (also called dry paintings) were made by the medicine man and his assistants on the floor of a hogan es- pecially constructed for the purpose. Colored sands — white, red, yellow, black, and blue — were secured by grinding stones from the near-by cliffs. With incredible poise and dexterity the “painter” made the designs from mem- ory and freehand, squatting on the ground and dropping the sand with his thumb and forefinger onto a smoothed surface of ordinary sand. The designs were highly abstract and in content had to do with the gods and spirits, the rain- bow, mountains, plants, and animals — all having some religious or mythical significance. When the painting had served its function in the ceremonial, it was destroyed with the same tradi- tional precision with which it was made. The design followed strict rules as to composition as well as in the single figures, with individual variations per- missible only in small details.

SUMMARY

The coming of the white man con- tributed to several Indian cultures plants, animals, and tools which en- abled these cultures to evolve to a flowering. The Northwest Coast In- dians, fishermen on a coast with a great abundance of fine timber, had already shown ability at carving with stone tools. With the acquisition of metal they

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[a] Navaho Blanket. De- tail. Museum of the Ameri- can Indian , Heye Founda- tion, New York City. (. Museum of the American Indian , Heye Foundation )

produced an extraordinary art of wood- carving — canoes, totem poles, and ob- jects of everyday and ceremonial life. It was a conventional art, highly ab- stract and superbly decorative. The Plains Indians, with the gift of the horse, became wide-ranging hunters and war- riors and developed an art of a highly expressive costume, elaborate with feathers, procupine quills, and bead embroidery (the beads another gift of the European). On shields, tipis, and buffalo skins they gave expression to their vigorous life in paintings of hunts and fights filled with dashing spirit. The nomadic Nava ho, with the gift of sheep, horses, and plants, became semi- nomadic sheep-raisers and with the wool they produced brought weaving to a high level. With the introduction of silver from Mexico they achieved a forthright expression in that medium, now using the silver alone, now com- bining it with turquoise or coral. Though the Navaho assimilated the new acquisitions, at the same time they retained in pure form many of their traditional ways of thinking and of liv-

ing. Thus they brought to a climax one of the great purely indigenous American arts, that of sand painting and the cere- monial of which it is a part.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adair, John, The Navajo and Pueblo Silversmiths, University of Oklahoma Press, 1944

Amsden, G. A., Navaho Weaving, Fine Arts Press, X934

Armer, Laura A., Sand-painting of the Navaho Indians, Exposition of Indian Tribal Arts, New York City, 1931

Boas, Franz, Primitive Art, Harvard University Press, 1928

Bunzel, R. L., The Pueblo Potter, Columbia Uni- versity Press, 1929

Chapman, K. M., Decorative Art of the Indians of the Southwest, Bulletin No. 1, Laboratory of Anthropology, Santa Fe, N.M., July 1932

Cosslo, M. B., and Pijoan, Jose, Summa Artis, Vols. I-X, Madrid, 1931-46; Vol. I

Gushing, F. H., comp, and tr., Zvni Folk Tales, Knopf, 1931

Douglas, Frederic H., Plains Beads and Beadwork Designs, Denver Art Museum leaflets #73-74, December 1936

Totem Poles, Denver Art Museum

leaflets #79-80, December 1936

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Douglas, Frederic H., and d’ Harnoncourt, Rene, Indian Art of the United States, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1941

Earle, Edwin, Hopi Kachinas, with text by Edward A. Kennard, Augustin, 1938

Emmons, George T., Chilkat Blanket, American Museum of Natural History, New York City, 1907

Ewers, John C., Plains Indian Painting, Stanford University Press, 1939

Gillmor, Frances, and Wetherill, Louisa, Traders to the Navajos, Houghton Mifflin, 1934

Gilpin, Laura, The Pueblos , Hastings House, 1941

Goddard, Pliny E., Indians of the Northwest Coast, American Museum of Natural His- tory, 1924

Guthe, C. E., Pueblo Pottery Making, Yale Uni- versity Press, 1925

Hewett, E. L., Ancient Life in the American South- west, Bobbs-Merrill, 1930

Introduction to American Indian Art, Exposition of Indian T ribal Arts, New York City, 1931

James, G. W., Indian Blankets and Their Makers, McClurg, 1914

Keithahn, Edward L Monuments in Cedar, Roy Anderson, 1945

Kidder, A* V., An Introduction to the Study of Southwestern Archaeology, Yale University Press, 1924

Klah, Hasteen, Navajo Creation Myth, recorded by Mary C. Wheelwright, Museum of Navajo Ceremonial Art, Santa Fe, N.M.,

, I 942

Krieger, H. W., Aspects of Aboriginal Decorative Art in America, Annual Report, 1930, Smith- sonian Institution, Washington, D.C., 1931

Mason, O. T., Aboriginal American Basketry, Annual Report, 1902, Smithsonian Institu- tion, Washington, D.C., Part 2, Report of the U. S. National Museum, 1904 Matthews, Washington, comp, and tr., Navaho Legends, Houghton Mifflin, 1 897 Mera, Harry P., Navajo Blankets, Laboratory of Anthropology, Santa Fe, N.M., General Series, Bulletin Nos. 2-16, 1938-45

Style Trends of Pueblo Pottery in the

Rio Grande and Little Colorado Cultural Areas from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century, Memoirs of the Laboratory of Anthro- pology, Vol. III, Santa Fe, N.M., 1939 Navajo Blankets, New Mexico Art Program, Works Progress Administration, Santa Fe, N.M., 1942

Newcomb, Mrs. Franc J., Sandpaintings of the Navajo Shooting Chant, with text by Gladys A. Reichard, Augustin, 1937 Oakes, Maud, Where the Two Came to Their Father, a Navaho War Ceremonial, Pantheon Books, 1943

Reichard, Gladys A., Navajo Shepherd and Weaver, Augustin, 1936

Underhill, Ruth M., First Penthouse Dwellers of America, Augustin, 1938

— Pueblo Crafts, United States Indian

Service, Education Division, 1944 Vaillant, George C., Indian Arts in North America, Harper, 1939

Wissler, Clark, North American Indians of the Plains, American Museum of Natural History, New York City, 1912

Woodward, Arthur, A Brief History of Navajo Silversmithing, Northern Arizona Society of Science and Art, Flagstaff, Ariz., 1938

MODERN ART

modern art

WORLD PANORAMA

THE expansion of the European nations in the Renaissance era into various parts of the world, and the consequent drawing of hitherto isolated areas more closely together, was a prelude to a world oneness brought about by the dominating force of today — science. Science, after groping its way for centuries, expanded in the nineteenth century to become the overpowering factor of the twentieth century. Because of its discoveries, transportation and communication have become so accelerated that no place on the earth is more than sixty hours distant by plane and but few places cannot be reached immediately by radio. Thus in a large sense all areas have been brought together into one total world. This, however, does not imply unification. For while every nation is now a close neighbor to every other, by no means does each understand its neighbors. Ideologies and their outward expressions differ so widely that, as a result of the world’s greatest struggle, World War II, a vast field of pioneering has opened for man — to understand and to live peaceably with all kinds of next-door neighbors; and, by giving and taking, to preserve his own national elements within a larger international framework.

Artists, as always, are caught up in the spirit and tempo of the age — and are confused by its impacts. Just as scientists are engaged in epoch-making investigation, and discovery, so artists are imbued with the spirit of investiga- tion in form. Possibilities are being explored in every field of the arts: in music, literature, architecture, painting, sculpture, drama, and the dance. New arts have appeared: photography, the cinema, and the arts of the machine. Much of this search for new types of expression has been stimulated by the oneness into which the world has been drawn. For the first time, European and American artists have now been brought into direct contact with exotic peoples all over the world and have been brought to a recognition of the significance and the lofty quality of the arts of the past in the Far East, in Africa, and among the Pacific Islanders and the American Indians — all of them presenting different kinds of visualization and forms from their own. To eager investigators, these forms have proved to be highly stimulating. On the other hand, the influence of the Europeans and the Americans upon other cultures has often been deleterious; most of the cultures mentioned are now in decadence or in transition. In the field of the handcrafts especially, rapid decadence has resulted, except among the more stalwart and understanding who strive to adapt deeply rooted traditional forms to changing conditions. Thus the bringing of all parts of the world within one periphery is bound to be profoundly influential, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Yet it not only broadens horizons but stimulates the investigation of form in the spirit of scientific research, and in an age of transition is sowing the seeds of a new era in all the arts.

T HE nineteenth century was a cen- tury of upheaval, of ferment of new forces and new ideas in conflict with the old. The two great storm centers were France, torn by its Revolution, with its political, social, and economic realignments; and England, disorgan- ized by its Industrial Revolution, with its equally vast social and economic as well as cultural consequences. The free- dom of inquiry and liberal thought born of the Renaissance bore fruit luxuriantly in France in the eighteenth century, notably in the work of the Encyclope- dists and Rousseau, and voices were al- ready raised in denunciation of social and economic injustice. By the end of the century this expression flared into action in the French Revolution. The Thirteen Colonies in North America had already separated from England, but it was the upheaval in France that caused repercussions throughout both Europe and the Latin American col- onies, where French thought and influ- ence had been strong, so that before the middle of the nineteenth century all the Middle, Central, and South American colonies of Spain and Por- tugal had severed political connections with their mother countries and set up republics. Europe saw the abolition or the limitation of kings and aristocracy in favor of constitutional monarchies or republics, and the consequent rise of the bourgeoisie and the lower classes into positions previously limited to the aristocracy — with a consequent shak- ing of traditional culture.

The Industrial Revolution, starting in England, where scientific research and applied science ushered in the Machine Age, spread rapidly. The half-century from 1800 to 1850 saw the first of many inventions: steamboat, locomotive, transatlantic liner, and passenger train as well as the telegraph and the camera — all which, with other factors, eventuated in a great expansion of industry; in the rise of the wealthy manufacturer to challenge the wealthy landowner; in the drift of population to the cities where the manufacturing plants were located, with consequent overcrowding; in the emergence of those social and economic conditions which gave rise to socialism and other attempts to alleviate their injustice. The application of the scientific viewpoint, with its critical observation of phenomena, produced Darwin’s The Origin of Species (1859) and a consequent long line of research; and a weakening of religious faith.

The arts, meanwhile, were passing through two phases. The first, from about 1820 to 1850, was the romantic move- ment, whose fervor was symptomatic of a new age that was replacing the dy- ing Renaissance. In the glorification by the romantic movement of human emo- tions and of subjective, individual reac- tions lay a basis for the expressionism of today; and its intense search for undis- covered beauties led it first out of doors and then into the paths of legends, primitive and medieval life, and exotic cultures. The second phase — a result of the scientific attitude — was a real- istic movement. This meant not only a realistic imitation of nature on the part of some painters — an influence of the newly discovered camera — but a change in subject matter from the his- torical, legendary, and exotic themes of the romanticists to the scenes and in- cidents of everyday life, particularly the life of the people.

Not only were the artists subjected to these influences of a changing age, but their whole social and economic basis was thrown violently out of bal- ance. In earlier times the artist had filled a normal niche in the economic structure, usually as a member of a guild, for the independent artist as an independent economic unit rarely existed. Kings, popes, nobles, the Church, and the guild provided steady patronage. Supply and demand bal- anced, and there was no economic prob- lem. A work of art — a building, a statue, a picture, a textile, or a book — was ordered at the shop, made, paid for according to contract, and fulfilled the function which the purchaser had in mind when he ordered it. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the establishment of the French Acad- emy with its autocratically imposed official sanctions, the growth of museum collections, and the birth of the idea of salon or exhibition painting created an artificial market. At the same time the abolition of the classes and institutions that were the great art patrons, and the coming of the machine, which practi- cally abolished the handcrafts, de- stroyed the artist’s normal position and function and created an entirely new situation, to which, even today, the artist is not adjusted.

It is over against this complex, con- fusing, rapidly changing flux of the whole fabric of civilization that we must see the art of the nineteenth and twen- tieth centuries. It is a situation by no means novel. The late Roman Empire in the early centuries of the rising Chris- tian civilization is a comparable situa- tion; or the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in Italy when medievalism was waning before the incipient Renais- sance. These movements, however, were simple and almost local in comparison with the complexity and the cosmo- politan breadth of the situation of the nineteenth century.

NINETEENTH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

19th-century architecture

FROM the late fifteenth century to the middle of the eighteenth, all the countries of Europe, not excepting Russia, felt the impact of Italian Renaissance architecture in its various styles — early, high, baroque — and reacted, each according to local conditions. In the second half of the eighteenth century, classicism, no longer interpreted by the Italian architects but actually seen through archaeological investigation and firsthand knowledge of Rome and Greece, swept Europe and the Americas. It affected all types of buildings — churches somewhat less than civic, commercial, and domestic buildings. Sometimes it appeared in details only, as in an egg-and-dart molding, or a Doric portico. More frequently it determined the entire design of the building. Now it followed Roman styles, now Greek. So one sees Sainte-Genevieve (also called the Pantheon) in Paris and the library of the University of Virginia , modeled after the Pantheon in Rome; the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin after the Propylaea in Athens, and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris and the Washington Arch in New York after the Roman triumphal arches; railway terminals, such as the Pennsylvania Station in New York, after Roman baths. Almost every city can boast a bank or a museum patterned after a Greek or a Greco-Roman temple — the Bank of England and the British Museum in London; the Custom House (Sub-Treasury) in New York; the Casa de la Moneda in Santiago, Chile; the Palacio de Mineria in Mexico City.

These are but a few illustrations of a neoclassical tidal wave which swept over all parts of the world that came under the influence of Europe. Thus in the midst of a century of revolutions we see the curiously paradoxical situation of artists looking to the past while being carried along the current toward a new age. This was due partly to the romantic movement, which whetted the appetite for a deeper understanding of the past and set it up as a summum bonum. In addition, as there had not yet emerged a new age coherent enough to manifest itself, the disintegrating Renaissance re- vealed its decadence, as is normal, in an archaistic expression. That classicism took so strong a hold on the youthful United States is due partly to the wave of nationalism which permeated the country and demanded a break artisti- cally as well as politically with England; and partly to the influence of Thomas Jefferson, who saw in pure classicism a style which seemed to answer that de- mand.

Thus was implanted the ideal of eclecticism — the arbitrary acceptance of a historical style without regard to dissimilarity of climate, material, and function, in lieu of a style that naturally evolved from the local environment. Before the nineteenth century had passed, architecture in Europe and the United States had run the gamut (sometimes called “the battle”) of the styles: Italian Renaissance, baroque, Gothic, Romanesque, Byzantine, or, again, classical; even Chinese variations and details indicated an acquaintance with the Orient. The choice was not the same in all countries, but varied according to national preferences. Yet the result was that even today the main avenues of almost any European or American metropolis reveal, fraternizing in friendly proximity if not in stylistic unity, a French Renaissance mansion, a Gothic cathedral, a Venetian club, and a Greek bank. “Style” frequently meant a facade frontispiece. Architecture and engineering were completely divorced, and function bore little relation to the “style.”

However, in the minds of a few architects who realized the artificiality and sterility of the eclectic ideal there began to revive the concept of architecture as an organic structure whose form is related to the materials of which it is constructed, to its use, and to its whole cultural environment. They realized that expanding industry was demanding new types of buildings. Under the stimulation of swiftly developing science and manufacturing methods, the use of older materials was revived or expanded, as with concrete, terra cotta, glass, and tile, whereas iron and steel, by themselves or in combination with concrete, were the great challenge of the century. Iron had been used constructionally in combination with glass as early as the middle of the century — as in the Crystal Palace in London, a great adventure in iron and glass which provided an interior space flooded with light, admirably fitted for exhibition purposes and for a Northern climate. In bridges iron was used openly and frankly as a constructional material. In fact it was the engineers who were the first to discover the potentialities of the new materials and new methods of construction. But engineering and architecture were still divorced, and in most buildings where these materials served in engineering construction their use was hidden by exterior coverings until in the Eiffel Tower (1889) it stood forth in complete freedom and pointed the way to new forms.

The pioneers of a new style came chiefly from the United States, Germany, Austria, Belgium, Holland, and France. England, Italy, Spain, Russia, the republics of Central and South America were as yet untouched.

In the United States, an eclectic, strangely enough, was a prophet: Henry Hobson Richardson (1838-1886). His work must be seen against the trends of the United States following the Civil War. That war marked the triumph of industrial and business enterprise and resulted in a great expansion of industry and transportation, the rounding-out of the continent, and the exploitation of the West. The growth of industry de- manded centralization and consequently an urban rather than an agrarian type of civilization. Thus arose the American metropolis with its enormous wealth and ostentatious display — the “Gilded Age” — an acquisitive society based upon “rugged individualism” and the building up of huge fortunes, such as those of Morgan, Carnegie, and Rocke- feller. Many of the plutocrats were bour- geois in type, and in their hands wealth alone captured the social citadels of the remnant of the eighteenth-century aris- tocracy. Their tastes brought in the “heyday of the scroll saw, Rogers groups, and the dime novel.” 1 Perme- ating this local situation was the world ferment of the late nineteenth century, the age of applied science and advanc- ing technology, of research in pure sci-

1 Lewis Mumford, The Brown Decades , Harcourt, Brace, 1931, a brilliant analysis of the period.

ence, of theories of evolution, social ethics, and social democracy.

But building did not keep pace with this changing world. Frequent travel to Europe, combined with pressure from architects with European training, brought all building into the current fashion of the historical styles. Richard- son, too, was one of these eclectics — enthusiastic, after sojourning in Europe, over one style, the rugged Romanesque. Yet he was one of the thinkers who real- ized that function, site, and materials are determinants in the building art. This he showed in the Marshall Field Wholesale House (Chicago; Fig. 665 a), a building of great strength and dignity. Here is a clearly defined single volume bounded by clearly felt planes. Its mas- siveness is accented by the use of rus- ticated stone and by the strengthening of the masonry at the corners. But in consideration of its function, the walls are largely broken by openings that do not disturb the plane of the wall but which in the larger rounded openings below create a sweeping rhythmic movement that is repeated in double tempo in the smaller rounded openings above and is contrasted by the rec- tangular windows of the top story.

Another pioneer was Louis Sullivan (1856-1924). In the midst of the classical revival of the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893, Sulli- van’s Transportation Building was a con- spicuous exception. The portal (Fig. 66 7 a) was a simple rectangular block with a wide projecting cornice and long unbroken lines. Within the rectangular frame, we see concentric arches swing about the doorway, which is flanked by projecting terraces repeating the motif of the cornice. Low reliefs, designed by Sullivan on foliate motifs, ornament the arches and the cornices, and form a border to the rectangle. They are so low that they do not mar the feeling of the surface but add a note of varying texture and of wavering light and shade.

Sullivan’s famous dictum that form results from function determined in his own work the preliminary stages of sky- scraper evolution. The pre-eminent place of industry and the crowded ur- ban site; the scientific developments in elevator service, in illumination, heat- ing, and protection from fire; and the use of steel, reinforced concrete, and fireproof brick as structural materials, combined with advanced engineering technique — all these considerations contributed to produce the skyscraper. The problem of designing such a struc- ture according to Sullivan’s theory was not easy. To reveal the structural steel framework; to use stone or brick or tile so that its appearance indicates its func- tion as a sheath and not a support; and

at the same time to give the tall facade balance, unity, and variety — these were problems in skyscraper design. One of the first successful solutions was Sullivan’s Prudential ( Guaranty ) Building (Buffalo), in which one feels the frame- work of vertical shafts and horizontal beams in the lines of the sheathing and the massing of larger nonstructural units to form an effective base and to provide the necessary large window openings .

A little later, in the Schlesinger-Mayer Building (Chicago; now Carson , Pirie, Scott and Company Building ), Sullivan eliminated all the sheathing except the narrow strips covering the framework, and filled the space between the up- rights with glass. In this way the win- dows became horizontal instead of the usual vertical and expressed more logi- cally the proportion of both the enclosed space and the inner framework. Un- broken cornices at the top of the build- ing and above the second story, together with a band of ornament similar to that on the Transportation Building, emphasize horizontality. The rounding corner, whose windows stress verticalism, is a jarring note and is said not to have been part of Sullivan’s design.

These forward-looking experiments of Richardson and Sullivan, however, were submerged by waves of revivals — chiefly the classical, stressed strongly at the World’s Columbian Exposition, and the Gothic, employed in churches and collegiate buildings. Eclecticism ruled while the attention and the energy of the people went into the development of the country, into scientific industrial- ism and the creation of huge fortunes. Under these conditions, the creative im- pulse found comparatively little en- couragement. And yet: “The American, while adhering closely to his utilitarian and economical principles, has unwit- tingly, in some objects to which his heart equally with his hand has been devoted, developed a degree of beauty in them that no other nation equals. His clipper-ships, fire-engines, locomo- tives, and some of his machinery and tools combine that equilibrium of lines, proportions, and masses, which are among the fundamental causes of ab- stract beauty. Their success in produc- ing broad general effects out of a few simple elements, and of admirable adaptations of means to ends, as nature evolves beauty out of the common and practical, covers these things with a cer- tain atmosphere of poetry, and is an indication of what may happen to the rest of his work when he puts into it an equal amount of heart and knowl- edge.” 1

In Europe as well as in America, innovators were seeking new solutions, each individually, not as a member of an integrated group, though all were foes of the historical styles. Peter Behrens of Germany, Hendrik P. Berlage of Holland, and especially Henri van der Velde of Belgium — an active center for innovation — were working toward simplification both in the basic volume and in its surface treatment. Others, experimenting in new decorative motifs, produced the short-lived art nouveau, whose freely invented curvilinear

1 A strangely true prophecy of art in America today, written by James J. Jarves in 1864 and quoted by Mumford in The Brown Decades, p. 186, by permission of Harcourt, Brace and Company. Continue the quotation for an extraordinarily clear evaluation of eclecticism.

ornament, derived from plant forms, tended to mask the basic structure., Others experimented in new materials, such as iron alone or iron and glass. Still others sought for new uses of old materials — for example, Auguste Perret, in his concrete houses and the concrete church at Le Rainey.

Thus were planted in the work of largely isolated, forward-looking individuals the seeds of what came to be known in the twentieth century as modern architecture.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

• Addison, Agnes E., Romanticism and the Gothic Revival, Richard R. Smith, 1938
• Boas, George, ed., Romanticism in America, Johns Hopkins Press, 1 940
• Cahill, Holger, and Barr, Alfred H., Art in America in Modern Times, Reynal and Hitchcock, 1934
• Hamlin, Talbot F., Greek Revival Architecture in America, Oxford University Press, 1944
• Hitchcock, Henry R., The Architecture of H. H. Richardson and His Times, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1936
• Morrison, Hugh, Louis Sullivan, Museum of Modern Art, New York City and Norton, 1935
• Mumford, Lewis
  • The South in Architecture, Harcourt, Brace, 1941
  • The Brown Decades, Harcourt, Brace, 1931
  • Sticks and Stones, A Study of American Architecture and Civilization, Boni & Liveright, 1924
• Sullivan, Louis H., The Autobiography of an Idea, American Institute of Architects, 1924

Illustrations:

• [a] Marshall Field Wholesale House. Chicago. H. H. Richardson , architect. 1885-87. Demolished 1930. (. Museum of Modem Art)
• [a] Transportation Building. Entrance. World’s Columbian Exposition , Chicago , i8q 3. Louis Sullivan , architect.
• [a] Constable . Hay Wain. 1821. National Gallery , London. {Art Institute of Chicago)

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

like the Dutch and like Wilson and Crome, found delight in a direct con- tact with his native landscape — in the nPHOUGH France maintained a su- light and warmth of the sunshine, the

X preme position as a dynamic art cool of shadow, and the movement of

center, in the early nineteenth century the wind and rain. The Hay Wain (Fig.

England made a valuable contribution 670A) reveals the quiet charm of the

to the evolving tradition of painting in countryside in a composition that is in-

Europe. This contribution is found in formal and unconventional. In the fore-

the work of Constable and Turner, a ground a hay wagon is fording a stream

culmination of the landscape-painting near a house behind which are luxuriant

of Wilson and Crome in the eighteenth trees that cast cool shadows; at the right

century. John Constable (1776-1837), stretch the meadows glowing in the sun-

English Painting

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING 671

shine; masses of clouds move rapidly through the spacious sky. Something of the vibrant quality of light and air that was lacking heretofore appears in this picture, and a rich varied texture rather subdued in color tonality. These effects Constable secured by substituting for the traditional smooth surface of greens, grays, and browns, short thick strokes or dots of pigment of various hues laid over the ground color, a method known as divisionism , or broken color. Thus he gained not only a vi- brating quality of light and air but a rich texture of surface, which he some- times enhanced by manipulating the pigment with the palette knife as well as with the brush. 1

Joseph Mallord William Turner ( 1 775“ 1 851) was also interested in light and air. But in contrast to Constable’s intimacy with and rather close trans- cription of nature, to the solidity of his forms and the reticence of his expres- sion, Turner, after a preliminary direct study of nature, was swept off into a world of imagination, into limitless space filled with light, in which forms lost structure and solidity and existed merely for the sake of the golden misty light and air which enveloped them. He usually chose subjects as dramatic as his color. Yet whatever literary titles he bestowed on his work, the majesty of sun, sky, sea, and mountains and the vastness, power, and grandeur of light-filled space were his actual themes. Since he was enormously prolific — there exist thousands of his oils, water colors, drawings, the Liber Studiorum — the selection of two or three is obviously inadequate. In the Fighting Timeraire (Fig. 673A), he is preoccupied with ti- tanic nature. In the light of a brilliant

1 To illustrate Constable’s technical innova- tions, contrast his early painting of Salisbury Cathedral (Victoria and Albert Museum), exact in its descriptive details, with the later Salting and Ashton examples of the same subject.

[a] Blake. When the Morning Stars Sang Together. From the Book of Job. 1823, Metropolitan Museum of Art , Mew York City. {Metropolitan Museum)

sunset and a rising moon, the old battle- ship is being towed down the harbor to the wrecking-yards by an efficient, puff- ing tug. Here a romantic subject has found a consistent expression, with structure and organization present, though freely unconventional. While in this painting the human interest asso- ciates itself with the landscape in a highly imaginative way, later paintings reveal almost abstract visualizations of space and light. In Rain , Steam and Speed (National Gallery), the structure and solidity of all objects are lost in the effect of the swift movement of the train through a driving rain — an effect se- cured by using a rather thick pigment in broken color. In the water color Norham: Sunrise (National Gallery at

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672

Millbank) phantom shapes float in the opalescent mist as a result of the thin- nest washes of transparent color drawn over a masterly, lightly sketched out- line,

A solitary in English painting was William Blake (1757-1827), the mystic who lived the largest part of his life in the world of his visions (Fig. 671 a), “There assuredly never was a more singular, more inexplicable phenome- non than the intrusion, as though by direct intervention of Providence, of this Assyrian spirit into the vapidly po- lite circles of eighteenth-century Lon- don, The fact that, as far as the middle classes of England were concerned, Pu- ritanism had for a. century and a half blocked every inlet and outlet of po- etical feeling and imaginative convic- tion save one, may give us a clue to the causes of such a phenomenon. It was the devotion of Puritan England to the Bible, to the Old Testament espe- cially, that fed such a spirit as Blake’s directly from the sources of the most primeval, the vastest and most abstract imagery which we possess. Brooding on the vague and tremendous images of Hebrew and Chaldean poetry, he ar- rived at such indifference to the actual material world, at such an intimate per- ception of the elemental forces which sway the spirit with immortal hopes and infinite terrors when it is most with- drawn from its bodily conditions, that what was given to his internal vision became incomparably more definite, more precisely and more clearly articu- lated, than anything presented to his senses. His forms are the visible counter- parts to those words, like the deep , many waters , firmament , the foundations of the earth, pit and host, whose resonant over- tones blur and enrich the sense of the Old Testament.” 1 With an intuitive sensitivity for linear rhythms, he ob-

1 Fry, Vision and Design, p. 214. by permission of the publisher, Coward-McCann.

jectified these internal visions in linear designs — woodcuts, engravings with a wash of color added, wash drawings — composed of symbols by which he wished to objectify the elemental forces with which he lived. His drawings and paintings are not illustrations of an in- cident, but objectifications of an ex- perience of a man who has seen through the incident to its fundamental im- plications and who struggles for a form suitable for their expression. In his claim that the Byzantine style was re- vealed to him one discerns a realization that his own objective and that of the Byzantines were similar — “to render visible the mysteries of the supra-natu- ral world.” Yet his style of drawing shows affinity with contemporary neo- classical art.

A movement in English painting that is perhaps of greater value historically than for the intrinsic worth of its expres- sion was that of the Pre-Raphaelites and their sympathizers. The Industrial Rev- olution had plunged the country into a profoundly chaotic state, socially, eco- nomically, and artistically, and had brought about a transitional period be- tween the handcraft period and the Machine Age — a transition from which we have not entirely emerged. Art be- came segregated and lost its contact with life. Taste declined. In 1848 seven young men 2 formed the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, whose purpose was to break away from the bad taste and empty artificiality of the times and to substitute real ideas, a sincere study of nature, and sound craftsmanship. The brotherhood sought to regain the spirit of the ages that preceded Raphael. In 1857, when Morris and Burne-Jones in-

2 The best known of the group were Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882) and William Holman Hunt (1827-1910); in close sympathy were Ford Madox Brown (1821-1893), Sir Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898), and William Morris (1834-1896). A champion of the cause was John Ruskin (1819-1900).

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673

i

[a] Turner. Fighting Temeraire. 1839. National Gallery, London. [Anderson)

stalled themselves in London as “art- tion of art from life, and in its efforts

ists” (a profession then looked upon as to make art a vital, spontaneous expres-

odd and hardly respectable) and at- sion which manifested itself in a chair

tempted to furnish their rooms, all the and a book as well as in a building or a

furniture and hangings that could be painting,

purchased were so ugly that they were driven to make everything themselves

— the designs, the dyes, the textiles, and BIBLIOGRAPHY the furniture. Thus began the Morris movement, which sought to bring back the old ideal of the craftsman who could make things not only useful but beau- tiful in shape, line, pattern, and color.

The Pre-Raphaelites, besides painting and writing poetry, worked as craftsmen along various lines: they made stained- glass windows, designed cartoons for tapestry and wallpaper, and printed and illustrated books. The value of the movement lay chiefly in its protest against the bad results of the segrega-

Baker, Charles H. C., British Painting, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1934 Figgis, Darrell, The Paintings of William Blake , Scribner, 1925

Hind, Charles L., Landscape Painting from Giotto to the Present Day, 2 vols., Scribner, 1923 Leslie, C. R., Memoirs of the Life of John Constable, R.A., London, 1937

Sitwell, Sacheverell, Conversation Pieces, Scribner,

Narrative Pictures, Scribner, 1938

Turner, Joseph M. W., Golden Visions, comp, by Charles L. Hind, Nelson, 1925 Wilenski, Reginald H., Masters of English Paint- ing, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1934

674 MODERN ART

[a] Ingres. Madame Riviere. 1805. Louvre , Paris. ( Giraudon )

French Painting

French painting

THE aristocratic painting of eighteenth-century France is the point of departure for the revolutionary changes of the nineteenth century. The gaiety, extravagance, and frivolity of the French court continued to disregard entirely the ever increasing rumblings that were soon to swell into the terrific storm of the thinkers and the masses rising against absolutism and class privi- lege. A reflection of the more serious mood of the day is to be discerned in an earnestness and a severity that was finding its ideal in classical subjects. Attention had already been turned in that direction by the excavations at Pompeii (1755), by the publication of Winckelmann’s History of Art among the Ancients , the first ever written on the subject, and by the popularity of Piranesi’s engravings of Roman buildings. Hence it is not surprising that the pictures of the classicists, such as the Oath of the Horatii(Louvre) by Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), were received with great enthusiasm. In contrast to the lilting rhythms and melting color of rococo, the cold harsh art of David, linear, drab, almost monochrome, and sculptural in feeling, furnished a gratifying change and a mood that was apposite to the changing temper of the times.

Another classicist, Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780-1867), found his inspiration primarily in the Florentines. The Odalisque (Louvre) and the Madame Riviere (Fig. 674A) are linear patterns to which color has been added for decorative and clarifying effects. In the Madame Riviere what impresses us most is the harmonious rhythm of the sweeping lines of the shawl as it winds over the shoulders and falls across the figure in a single great curve through which minor harmonies interplay; and the admirable adaptation of the whole design to the oval frame. Ingres’ famous saying laconically summarizes his artistic creed: “Drawing is everything; color is nothing.” As a result he was charged, especially by his opponents the romanticists, with affecting Gothic primitivism, with belonging to the school of Cimabue.

Meanwhile the storm had burst into the Revolution, the result of which was to liberate powerful energy and tumul- tuous feelings that could not find ex- pression in the cold severity of David’s and Ingres’s classical ideals. Here lay the origin of the romantic movement (about 1820 to 1850). Now it was hu- man feeling and Rousseau’s faith in nature rather than rationalism that served as a guiding principle. Wagner poured forth his tumultuous music in a glorification of intense human emo- tions; in England the Lake poets, in more restrained though individual sub- jective expression, glorified the beauty of nature. The inescapable task of

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675

[a] Delacroix. Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople. 1841. Louvre , Paris. ( Gi - raudon ) Compare with Fig. 546A for a similar organization and expression of depth.

painters who were aware of a movement so surcharged with emotionalism and vitality was to give expression to its mood. This task was not accepted by the classicists, who clung to their tradi- tional formulas in a rapidly changing world. The romanticists, on the other hand, offered both new subject matter and a new style of painting; and The Raft of the Medusa of Theodore Geri- cault (1791—1824) precipitated the long struggle between the two schools to de- fend their respective principles.

In Eugene Delacroix (1798-1863), perhaps the most gifted romantic painter, baroque compositions with tumultuous rhythms stem from Rubens or the Venetians (Delacroix was self-

taught, in the Louvre), though with not so complete a mastery in the perfect subordination of a complex composi- tion to deep spatial rhythms as we see in Tintoretto, Veronese, or Rubens. In contrast to the tranquil, linear patterns of Ingres, cold in color and with largely lateral movement, The Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople (Fig. 6 75 a) is a restless design organized by strong color and light in space. It is a dramatic subject characteristic of the romanti- cists, who found their ideals in history and literature. In the foreground a group of mounted Crusaders are ad- vancing with flowing banners; on every side are scenes of killing and pillage, or pleading for mercy; low-lying in the

676

MODERN ART

[a] Courbet. La Mere Grigoire. 1855, Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute )

background is the city of Constanti- nople, with the smoke of fires rising from the houses and the ships in the harbor, A strong movement sweeping inward from the foreground and re- peated again and again defines a space in which the figures are organized by light and dark, warm and cool spots of color. “Gray is the enemy of all paint- ing,” said Delacroix. . . . “Let us ban- ish from our palette all earth colors — keep the brush strokes distinct, not fused, and thus secure energy and fresh- ness— the greater the opposition in color, the greater the brilliance.” The short distinct brush stroke, and the juxtaposition of complementary colors, already being practiced by Constable in England, and used earlier by Wat- teau, Rubens, and Titian, are on the direct path toward a climax in the im- pressionistic movement later in the cen- tury.

A by-product of the romantic move-

ment, or perhaps more correctly a di- rect result, was the new attitude toward nature and therefore toward landscape- painting, an attitude foreshadowed in Ruisdael. With Poussin and Claude landscape was an artificial, imaginative visualization of nature, contemplated, to be sure, out of doors, but constructed in the studio into an architectural unity. Not so with the “men of 1 830,” 1 who carried painting out of doors — a novel idea — and actually painted in the for- est of Fontainebleau near the village of Barbizon, or at least made detailed drawings to be worked up into paint- ings in the studio. In their passion for, and close intimacy with, nature they faithfully interpreted its moods. They also pictured its actual appearance, us- ing a considerable amount of realistic detail. This was, however, attributable partly to the influence of the Dutch school of landscape, and especially to a recent discovery, the science of photog- raphy. To copy nature as the camera does became more and more the objec- tive of many painters, for in the minds of the public the novel idea of an exact copy of natural appearance was rapidly becoming an ideal.

Thus we find two Corots: the early landscapes, painted both in Italy and in France, together with the late figures, composing one group; and the interme- diate, more photographic landscapes painted around Fontainebleau, the other. In the early landscapes the space is carved out almost as clearly as in a Poussin, each building taking its place in accordance with the planes defining the space, and with the values of its hues. But the popular landscapes were painted at just the time when Corot

1 Important members of the group were Camille Corot (1796-1875); Theodore Rous- seau (1812—1867); Chari es-Fran^ois Daubigny (1817-1878); Jules Dupr£ (1812-1889); Charles Jacque (18x3-1894); Constant Troyon (1810-

• 865); Jean-Fran$ois Millet (1814-1874).

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING 677

was caught in the wave of romanticism on the emotional side and by the influ- ence of photography on the visual side. Thus an honest, sincere love of nature, by no means always sentimental, was befogged by affectation; and the artist’s vision, which he possessed in large measure, was blinded by the novel idea of the exactitude of the camera in re- production.

The same influences turned the ca- pacities of Millet into sentimentalities and overrealistic reproduction of detail. On the other hand, like Corot, he re- vealed at times, especially in his draw- ings, not only a grasp of form and its organization in space but also a healthy interpretation of his subject quite re- moved from romantic sentiment, and together with Courbet continued the tradition of the Dutch genre painters, of the Le Nain brothers and Chardin.

The situation in Paris about 1850 was a triangle of three mutually antag- onistic groups. One consisted of the academicians, chiefly followers 1 of the classical and romantic traditions, who controlled the salons and formulated strict rules as to subject matter, which must be religious or legendary, and as to handling — “high art” or the “grand manner,” it was called. A second group was the Barbizon school; a third, in- dividuals of forthright independence. Of this last group was Gustave Courbet (1819-1877), who “didn’t paint angels because he never saw one,” and who called himself “a realist.” By this he meant not that he reproduced nature with the eye of the camera, but that he reproduced the actualities of nature in the raw in protest against the empty artificialities of the academicians, and in such a way that the representation was more compelling than the visual actuality. His subject matter shocked

1 Couture (18x5-1879); Cabanel (1823- X 889); and Bouguereau (1825-1905) are ex- amples. ■. .

[a] Manet. The Servant of Bocks, c. i8yg. Tate Gallery, London.

the Academy — The Stone-Breakers, La Mere Grtgo'vre (wife of the keeper of a brewhouse) , The Funeral at Ornans — living actualities, often crude and harsh. The simple boldness in his limited sober palette is in harmony with the elemental character of the subject matter; lights and darks meet abruptly along the edges of simplified planes; and a surface richness results from the various ways in which Courbet used his pigment, often loading it on heavily with the palette knife (Fig. 676A).

Another independent was Honoré Daumier (1808-1879), who for forty years satirized Paris by his lithographs in Charivari, and in the meantime painted a few pictures. His daily task of reaching essentials through simplification— -essentials of form to enforce the essential meaning — undoubtedly influenced his painting in the same direction. Within a limited range of color — a color scheme reminiscent of Rembrandt in its tonality of warm browns and yellows — large bold areas of pig-

678 MODERN ART

[a] Daumier. Tenants and Landlords : “After Midnight.” Lithograph. 1847. Art Institute of Chicago. [Art Institute )

ment cut highly simplified planes, and every detail is eliminated which does not bear on the central idea. In The Uprising (Fig. 6 79 a), diagonal planes, moving in from opposite corners by means of sharply contrasted lights and darks, carve out a space filled with a mob, though but a few people can actually be seen. One dynamic figure in the foreground tersely carved in light and dark, with a forceful diagonal movement, repeated in the half-seen figure on the left, symbolizes the threatening mood of the mob. Daumier, like Goya, penetrated deeply into the con- temporary life of all classes and represented it in a form that was terse, compelling, and caustically satiric. His means were line of tremendous energy, and forceful oppositions of black and white (Fig. 6 7 8a).

Other independents were protesting, rebelling, and experimenting in this ex- perimental century. The alternative

which every painter faced was to con- form or suffer the penalty of heresy. The majority conformed; the minority, even- tually victorious, rebelled. An impor- tant rebel was Edouard Manet ( 1 832- 1883). Gifted with unusual vision and a healthy interest in the everyday life about him, he began to place upon canvas pictures taken from the real world and painted in the brilliant colors that he saw in nature, and at once found himself the object of ridicule and scorn on the part of the upholders of the old traditions. His subject matter shocked the academicians, for it was taken, like Courbet’s, from the living world — a bullfight, a girl tending bar, a horse race, a group on a balcony, a man in a boat, everyday people in everyday clothes. The subject as a vehicle for in- terpretation did not interest Manet as it did Daumier and Millet, and in this respect Manet is on the way to abstrac- tionism. Equally revolutionary were his technical methods. Influenced early by Ribera and Velasquez, he first used a very limited palette, and laid the color on in broad strokes, light and dark meeting abruptly, with a generally fiat decorative effect (Fig. 6 77 a). Thus the Dejeuner sur VHerhe and the Olympia im- pressed Paris as vulgar and indecent, in subject and in method equally. In the seventies, although he broadened and brightened, his palette and used, at times, short strokes and ragged contours and filled the canvas with luminosity, Manet never wholly abandoned his strongly linear, patternlike effects.

One of the other influences that were making themselves felt in Paris in the second half of the nineteenth century was the Japanese print, whose linealism and asymmetrical composition had some influence upon Manet, as it did upon Edgar Degas (1834-1917). An- other influence was the wave of realism which, in reaction to the earlier roman- ticism and under the spur of science,

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679

[a] Daumier. The Uprising. Thought to represent a scene from the political revolution of 1848. Phillips Memorial Gallery, Washington. [Phillips Memorial Gallery)

emphasized cool objective observation of the entire visual world. Degas’s coldly impersonal attitude toward the visual world made him such an ob- server, and together with his predis- position for linear forms strengthened his affinity with Ingres. Anything in the life about him served as subject, though race horses and dancers were favorite themes. Whatever it happened to be, Degas saw it as clear line and pattern caught in some casual moment. The awkward pose of a ballet girl tying her slipper became a sensitively realized decorative motif in an asymmetrical composition whose first impression is as casual as the theme. This informality, the unusual bird’s-eye view, the cutting of a figure by the frame, and the total

linear decorative quality all show a strong influence of the Japanese print. Though he also worked in oil, his most characteristic work was pastel, whose chalky texture was the negation of real- ism and a medium for effects of line and color pattern. In Figure 68oa, the cracks in the floor moving inward on a diag- onal define the space into which fit almost immaterial figures, patterns created by slender means, in violent contrast to the tremendous bulk of Dau- mier’s figures — - a curious combination of two- and three-dimensional form. But this art is not abstract, for Degas with his bitter wit or dry satire was a commentator on certain classes of so- ciety.

The tradition of contemporary satire

68o

MODERN ART

[a] Degas. Dancers Dressing. Pastel, c. i8j8~8o. Private Collection.

on a high plane again manifests itself in the dynamic Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec (1864-1901), an individual as surcharged with the satirical viewpoint as Goya, his progenitor by way of Dau- mier and Degas. His subject matter is the sine qua non of his art. Steeped in his passion for observing life, gifted to an extraordinary degree as a draftsman, he became the caustic recorder of one slice of life, the dance halls of Mont- martre. Unlike Goya and Daumier, who saw beyond the personal to the im- personal, the generic, and the universal, Toulouse-Lautrec dealt with definite individuals, penetrating to the very depth of their lives and expressing his interpretation in a style as terse and caustic as his observation. With a few lines he caught a characteristic pose, exaggerated or distorted to force a point of interpretation or form, but neverthe- less creating a striking design. At the Moulin Rouge (Fig. 681 a) shows charac-

teristics that are probably due to the influence of the Japanese print — the unusual point of view, the asymmetrical composition, the working into space on diagonals, the cutting of the figure on the right, the strong silhouette, and the linear quality. And while it is pattern it is also definitely organized in space, for the group around the table forms the focal point in a space the frontal plane of which is marked by the strong mask of the dancer in the foreground, and the back plane by the lights in the background. At the same time it is a pattern as forceful and striking in its line, its light and dark, and its color as is the characterization of the well- known persons of the central group. 1

A painter who quietly pursued his own problems apart from contemporary conflict was Pierre Cecile Puvis de Cha- vannes (1824-1898). His chief concern, mural decoration, is illustrated by the paintings in the Pantheon of the life of Saint Genevieve, patron saint of Paris. These murals are a harmonious unit in interior design, holding their place on the wall yet breaking up the wall area and lending color to the gray stone in- terior. For they are linear, the figures are simplified and decorative, and the depth is shallow or controlled by planes generally parallel to the plane of the wall, with the movement lateral. The color has a silvery tonality, with no deep shadow or violent contrast, for the range of hue, value, and texture is limited. Even with oils, Puvis de Chavannes suc- ceeded in creating something of the effect of fresco.

The radicals of the seventies and eighties were the impressionists: Edou- ard Manet (in his later work) ; Camille

1 For a detailed description and identification of individuals see the Art Institute of Chicago, Loan Exhibition of Paintings, Drawings , Prints and Posters by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1930-31, with critical comment by D. G. Rich, Art Institute, 1931 .

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

68i

[a] Toulouse-Lautrec. At the Moulin Rouge. i8gs. Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

Pissarro (1830-1903); Alfred Sisley ( 1 840-1 899) ; Berthe Morisot (1 840- 1895); Claude Monet (1840-1926); and Pierre Auguste Renoir (1841-1919) — to mention notable examples. Impres- sionism 1 was not entirely novel. The realistic trend of the day aided and abetted its complete objectivity; its technical method, the chief center of

1 This term was not invented by the impres- sionists themselves. In 1874 Monet exhibited a sunrise scene to which he gave the title, Im- pression: Soleil Levant. As this title seemed quite expressive of the methods of the group, the term soon became current, but it was used at first in a sense of reproach and scorn for the painters who were the “ignorant and extravagant iconoclasts of established principles.”

the storm, had long been foreshadowed — in color theory even by Leonardo; in actual practice by Titian in his late years, by Rubens, Constable, Turner, and Delacroix. The objective of the im- pressionist was to create an illusion of light and atmosphere, of light envelop- ing objects, which required an intensive Study of light as a compound of color and its action upon surfaces. Local color, the impressionists discovered, was but relative, because of reflections from other objects and because of modifica- tions due to juxtaposed colors. Com- plementaries, for example, if used side by side in large enough areas, intensify each other; if used in small quantities, they

682

MODERN ART

fuse into a neutral. Shadows are not gray, but are composed of colors that are complementary to the hue of the object casting the shadow, if not modified by reflections or other conditions. Further- more, it is not only the actual hue but its value and intensity that must be represented with exactitude — all of which is highly complex.

To express the living vibrating qual- ity of light, a technical method had to be discovered which in the physical use of pigment would reach the same effect; and this was found in divisionism, or broken color. Approach an impression- istic picture and it becomes unintel- ligible — - a rectangle of canvas covered with streaks and dabs of thick pigment, the colors of the spectrum chiefly, un- mixed. But move across the room and the objects appear, enveloped in glow- ing, shimmering light. This has hap- pened because the li ttle dabs of pigment were placed so accurately as regards tone and value that when the eye mixes them at the proper distance, they re- produce the shape of the objects, the texture of the water, the color in the shadows, and (because of their rough surface) the vibrating quality of the light. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of colors on the canvas for the eye to mix at a distance produces a more intense hue than the mixing of the same colors on the palette; the same principle, we have seen, was employed in the making of Gothic stained-glass windows.

Monet may be taken to illustrate the group. He knew very well that light, and therefore the appearance of nature, changed every moment as the light shifted. So, in his insatiable desire to understand thoroughly the appearance of an object under varying lights and atmospheric conditions, he used to paint the same subject from the same point of view a great many times, going out at sunrise with twenty canvases so as to

be able to catch quickly the elusive changes. And the results are astonish- ingly different. Each is a realistic rendering of a fleeting impression, a painting of the light and air which envelop objects.

Landscape was the chief subject mat- ter of the impressionist painters, and in addition to the sparkling, vibrating, colorful surfaces of their canvases there is sometimes a lyrical interpretative mood. Renoir, however, was possessed by an absorbing interest in the human figure; he took sheer delight in unaf- fected feminine charm and frankly ex- pressed his joy in it; but eventually he used it as a point of departure for cre- ating abstract designs in deep space. His early work with its long brush strokes is close to Courbet and Manet, but even then he displayed a feeling for color in the abstract in contrast to the usual impressionist’s exact reproduc- tion of the hues and values in nature. This innate love of color — which prob- ably received its first development from Renoir’s working as a boy in the por- celain factory at Limoges — when com- bined with the impressionistic technique produced such a painting as At the Mou- lin de la Gale tie , 1 which, though impres- sionist in technique and simple in for- mal composition, still is far from being an exact copy of objective vision. The color is by no means a reproduction of nature, but something imaginative, something that ties the dancing rhythms into a unity; and there is a gaiety and a frank joy in people, a hint of Renoir’s concentration later upon the figure. The scintillating light and the shimmering color that hold together the many di- verse elements in At the Moulin de la Galette give way in The Luncheon of the Boating Party (Fig. 683A) to an interest in single figures solidly constructed and

1 See Munro, Great Pictures of Europe, pp. 73- 76, for a detailed analysis.

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

[a] Renoir. Luncheon of the Boating Party . 1881. Phillips Memorial Gallery , Washington. {Phillips Memorial Gallery)

placed rhythmically in a deep space organization. The asymmetrical design working in on diagonals, reminiscent of Degas and Toulouse-Lautrec, is based upon easy movements guided by the figures and stabilized by repeated ver- ticals. Every hue of the spectrum is there, hue melting into hue and pro- ducing a marvelously rich texture and at the same time constructing solid forms and organizing them into suave spatial rhythms. This interest in ab- stract rhythms in deep space, which links Renoir with Rubens, led him to paint many pictures of bathers, 1 a sub- ject of great potentiality for the expres-

1 See W. H. Wright, Modem Painting, Dodd, Mead, 1927, opposite p. 126, for two of these Bathers showing Renoir’s transition to his fullest

expression.

sion of deep space design. Renoir, be- cause of the solidity of his figures and their spatial organization, forms a bridge between impressionism and post- impressionism.

Another painter who carried forward the theories of impressionism was Seurat. Georges Seurat (1859-1891) 2 attacked the problem from the angle of the psychological effect of line direction and line relationship and of the science of related colors. Steeping himself in the color theories of Delacroix and of the color scientists of his time, Helmholtz and Chevreul, he worked out a system of putting the pigment on in tiny roundish dots, of about equal size, with scientific precision as to the color rela-

2 Together with Paul Signac sometimes called a neo-impressionist. '

[a] Seurat. La Grande Jatte. 1884-86. Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

tion of dot to dot (a method known as pointillism) — an enormously difficult procedure, as severely disciplined and painstaking as the impressionist method was spontaneous and exuberant. Thus he transformed the illusion of natural appearance into a precise organization composed of people and objects that are solid and arranged with mathematical precision in a deep space filled with sun- light and air; and yet which, paradoxi- cally, form an extraordinarily effective pattern. Such is La Grande Jatte 1 (Fig. 684A) , the pattern of which is based upon the verticals of the figures and the trees, the horizontals in the shadows and in the distant embankment, the diagonals in the shadows and the shore line, each of which contributes the psychological

1 For a full analysis with numerous preliminary drawings and sketches, which indicate how coolly premeditated his art was, see D. G. Rich, Seurat and the Evolution of “La Grande Jatte,” University of Chicago Press, 1935.

effect inherent in the character of its movement. At the same time, by the use of meticulously calculated values the painter carves out a deep rectangu- lar space, and in creating both pattern and space he plays upon repeated mo- tifs: the profile of the lady, taken from the costume of the day; the umbrella; and the cylindrical forms of the figures, each so placed in space as to set up a rhythmic movement into space as well as from side to side. The picture is filled with sunshine but not broken into ever changing myriads of scintillating colors. Light, air, people, and landscape are frozen into an abstraction in which line, color, color values, and shapes cohere into an organization as precisely as the parts of a machine. A calculating, in- tellectual art is this — in no sense a mechanical procedure, but an art which, being of the lineage of Paolo Uccello’s and Piero della Francesca’s, like theirs moves by its serene monumentality.

• Barnes, Albert C., The Art in Painting, Harcourt, Brace, 1937
• and De Mazia, Violette, The Art of Renoir, Minton, Balch, 1935
• Bell, Clive, Landmarks in Nineteenth-Century Painting, Harcourt, Brace, 1927
• Cheney, Sheldon W., A Primer of Modern Art, rev. ed., Tudor, 1939
• Delacroix, Eugene, The Journal of Eugene Delacroix, tr. by Walter Pach, Covici Friede, 1937
• Duret, Theodore, Manet and the French Impressionists, tr. by J. E. C. Flitch, Lippincott, 1910
• Florisoone, Michel, Renoir, tr. by George F. Lees, Hyperion Press, 1938
• Fry, Roger E., Characteristics of French Art, Coward-McCann, 1933
• Transformations , Brentano’s, 1927
• Hind, C. L., Landscape Painting from Giotto to the Present Day, 2 vols,, Scribner, 1923
• Hourticq, Louis, Art in France, Scribner, 1911
• Jewell, Edward A., French Impressionists and Their Contemporaries, Random House, 1944
• Lassaigne, Jacques, Toulouse-Lautrec, tr. by Mary Chamot, Hyperion Press, 1939
• Mack, Gerstle, Toulouse-Lautrec, Knopf, 1 938
• Marriott, Charles, Modern Movements in Painting, Scribner, 1921
• Mather, Frank J., Jr., Modern Painting, Holt, 1927
• Mauclair, Camille, Degas, Paris, 1937
• Mourey, Gabriel, French Art in the XIX Century , Studio, 1928
• Munro, Thomas, Great Pictures of Europe, Coward-McCann* 1930
• Rewald, John, George Seurat, Wittenbom, 1943
• Rey, Robert, Manet, tr. by Eveline B. Shaw, Hyperion Press, 1938
• Rich, Daniel C., Seurat and the Evolution of “La Grande Jatte,” University of Chicago Press, 1935
• Rutter, Frank V. P., Evolution in Modern Art, rev. ed., London, 1932
• Speed, Harold, The Science and Practice of Oil Painting, Scribner, 1924
• Uhde, Wilhelm, The Impressionists, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1937
• Vollard, Ambroise, Degas, An Intimate Portrait, tr. by R. T. Weaver, Greenberg, 1927
• Renoir, An Intimate Record, tr. by H. L. Van Doren and R. T. Weaver, Knopf, 1925
• Waldmann, Emil, Die Kunst des Realismus und des Impressionismus im 19. Jahrhundert, Berlin, 1927 . '
• Wilenski, Reginald H., Modern French Painters, 2d ed., London, 1944 French Painting, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1936
• Wright, Willard H., Modern Painting, Its Tendency and Meaning, Dodd, Mead, 1915

Painting in the United States

American art

PAINTING in the United States in the nineteenth century (about 1815 to 1913) was even more profoundly affected than architecture by its environment, particularly after the Civil War. The commercial aristocracy of the North and the landed aristocracy of the South, which upheld good taste, declined in the era of great material expansion toward the West and gave way to an industrial plutocracy devoid of a cultural tradition. This group furnished the patrons whose tastes the artist must satisfy if he was ever given an opportunity. For the passion of the wealthy patrons was to collect, to spend huge fortunes in acquiring "old masters.”

The school of portrait-painting, the chief expression in painting in the Co- lonial age, lingered on in the East in the work of Thomas Sully (1783-1 872) , who painted technically accomplished por- traits imbued with all the mannerisms of the late English portrait-painters, and in that of Samuel F. B. Morse (1791- 1872), who was trained in France and attained a vigorous style and forceful characterization, as in his Lafayette (Fig. 686a). But Morse abandoned painting for the scientific field, partly because of the general aridity of the art field for the American painter and partly be- cause of the rising vogue of the daguer- reotype, which almost abolished the demand for the painted portrait. 1

1 Other important portrait painters were Chester Harding (1792-1866) and Eastman Johnson (1824-1906).

686 MODERN ART

[a] Morse . The Marquis de Lafayette. 1825. Mew York Public Library. {New York Public Library)

Historical and mythological painting was stimulated partly by the new spirit of nationalism and partly by Benjamin West’s romanticism with a tinge of Da- vid’s classicism. It proved, however, to be histrionics rather than historical probity, despite the shock caused by West’s audacity in clothing his figures in historically correct costume. The huge canvases of John Trumbull (1756- 1843) seem mediocre patriotic illustra- tions rather than creative art, and the classical subjects of John Vanderlyn (1776-1852) and Washington Allston (1779-1843), painted in the “grand manner,” were merely technically pro- ficient artificial canvases for which there was no demand.

Interest in the local scene found a dual expression. A general feeling of nationalism inspired by a youthful na- tion, together with the influence of the illustrated weeklies and the stories of the “Wild West,” was producing the tales of

Irving and Cooper and giving rise to a parallel expression in native landscape and genre. This landscape found its be- ginning in the so-called Hudson River school. 1 A true love of nature and a fine feeling permeate their work. Many of their paintings, though realistic in detail, are composed with masses of trees and hills at the side through which the eye is guided into space in the man- ner of Claude Lorrain (Fig. 609 a) . Their green and brown tonality recalls the Dutch and the early English landscape- painters. In Doughty and Durand we find more intimate scenes; in Cole, more grandiose and romantic ones, as a result of travel in Europe and the influence of Turner. The panoramists sought their subject matter in the newly discovered majestic scenery of the Rockies and the Sierras, in Mexico, and in South Amer- ica, whose grandeur they attempted to express, at times with questionable re- sults but sometimes with no small de- gree of success in creating an impression of majesty.

From the Hudson River school emerged Homer D. Martin (1836— 1897), Alexander Wyant (1836-1892), and George Inness (1825-1894), men who contributed both native ability and more thorough technical proficiency gained chiefly under the influence of the Barbizon painters. The comparison of an early Inness such as Peace and Plenty (Metropolitan Museum) with the late Home of the Heron (Fig. 687A) shows an evolution from a panoramic vision and

1 This name was applied to a large group of painters because many of them lived in the vicinity of the Hudson and the Catskills, though they painted in various parts of the country and even in Mexico, South America, and the Medi- terranean countries. Important among them were Washington Allston (1779-1843), Thomas Doughty (1793-1856), Asher Brown Durand (1796-1886), Thomas Cole (1801-1848), John Frederick Kensett (1818-1872); and the pano- ramists Frederick Edwin Church (1826-1900), Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902), and Thomas Moran (1837-1926).

nineteenth-century painting

M Irmess. Home of the Heron. ,893- Edward B. Butler Collection, Art Institute of Chicago, (Art Institute)

a painstaking recording of objective de- tail to a broad synthesis of essentials se- lected for the purpose of interpretation.

Similar in attitude toward the local scene were the genre painters , 1 who found their inspiration in the everyday scene within the home, in the yard, the city street, the country, the Wild West.” Their honest, frank pleasure in such scenes manifested itself in truth to objective appearance. With the advent of the camera they entered into com- petition to attain an actual verisimili- tude. Such paintings as Hovenden’s, as Brown’s newsboys and Boughton s pil- grims, became merely storytelling snap- shots. Not so the work of Johnson,

1 John L. Krimmel (1787-1821); Henry In- man (1801-1846); William . S. Mount (1807- 1868); George Caleb Bingham (1811-1879), Thomas Hovenden (1840-1895); Frederic Remington (1861-1909); Eastman Johnson (1824-1906); Winslow Homer (1836-1916), Thomas Eakins (1844-1 916)-

Homer, and Eakins, in which the genre content was expressed in a form founded upon visualization rather than upon vision and upon organization of ele- ments rather than upon a reproduction

of actuality. . .

Patronage, however, was moving m a different direction. The confusion which followed the Civil War and the rise of the “Gilded Age” with its wealth, its insistence upon European products, and its scorn of American products, had made “European” synonymous with “artistic.” To Europe, therefore, Amer- ican artists flocked in an effort to supply the demand. But in vain, for the patrons purchased names (European) rather than paintings. Some of the painters went to Diisseldorf and Munich , 2 where

2 Notably William Merritt Chase (1849- 1016) ; Frank Duveneck (1848-1919); John W. Alexander (1856-1915); Walter Shirlaw (1838- I909)-

688

MODERN ART

[a] Eakins. The Pathetic Song, i88r. Cor- coran Gallery of Art, Washington, (Cor- coran Gallery )

they acquired a technique of bold vig- orous brushwork, the use of black or dark colors, and strong contrasts in value. Chase’s Woman with a Shawl exemplifies this style admirably. More went to Paris 1 into the ateliers of the popular academic painters and learned the formulas governing “proper” sub- ject matter and a suave technique ex- pended chiefly upon figure-painting based upon a visual perception of the model.

In both Germany and France these young men gained a sound routine

1 Of this large group important examples are Kenyon Cox (1856-1919); Elihu Vedder (1836- 1923); Abbott H. Thayer (1849-1921); Thomas W. Dewing (1851-1938); Edwin H. Blashfield (1848-1936); Edwin A. Abbey (1852-1911); Edmund C. Tarbell (1862-1938); Frank Weston Benson (1862- ); George de Forest Brush

(1855-1941). Their work is largely figure work and murals, with some portraits.

training and became able technicians. But imbued with European salon ideals and confronted with the Europeanizing of the United States, they found them- selves at one point of an unfortunate triangle; a lusty new republic deep in the nineteenth-century ferment: a pa- tronage with untrained, artificial (if any) taste, quite unconscious of, if not snobbish toward, a vigorous stimulating birthright in art, and quite blind to any role that the artist might play in the American commonwealth; and the painters themselves, caught between these divergent elements. In view of the situation some of the painters remained in Europe; others came home to prac- tice what was largely art for art’s sake rather than an art that grew out of and functioned in the culture which pro- duced them. Some assimilated their European training better than others — a repetition of Stuart vs. Copley; some displayed more virility and inde- pendence, Vedder for example, in his strongly linear style, which he made personal even though it was based upon Ingres and the latter’s Italian proto- types. John La Farge (1835-1910) was another independent who through his wide travel in the Far East as well as in Europe contributed a breadth of out- look and a feeling for sound craftsman- ship that is seen particularly in his work in glass. In this medium, in protest against the degraded practice, of paint- ing pictures on glass, he revived the medieval conception of a mosaic of small units of glass colored in the pot and leaded into a flat decorative design.

Of the painters who remained per- manently abroad, Whistler and Sargent are prominent examples. James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903) was one of the first to come within the periphery of the French revolutionary painters, with the result that Courbet, Manet, and through them Velasquez, Degas, Japanese prints, and the early impres-

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

689

[a] Sargent. The Wyndham Sisters, politan Museum of Art , New fork politan Museum)

Portrait of Miss 1872. W. C. Alexander Collection) London.

sionists, are easily discernible influences in his work. In, protest against the cur- rent realistic anecdotal painting, whose objective was the story and the snap- shot, he became a champion of art for art’s sake. But his method of protesting was characteristically personal, a mix- ture of individual irritation and sound fundamentals. He preached 1 and prac- ticed the subordination of content in favor of “Harmonies,” “Arrange- ments,” “Nocturnes.” Some of the portraits, especially Miss Alexander {Har- mony in Grey and Green)) Mother {Harmony in Grey and Black) , and Carlyle , reveal a sensitive organization with an emphasis on pattern and with subtle harmonies 1 For his theories see his Ten o’clock, North, 1908.

through modulated values within a narrow range of hue. In the Alexander portrait (Fig. 689s), the young girl is standing before a paneled background of gray and black, wearing a white dress with a green sash and carrying a hat with a green plume. The gray and green, with black and gold, dominate the composition. In some parts they are massed strongly; in others they consist of faint strokes. Compositionally, rec- tangles, triangles, and circles repeat and contrast. His use of the bird’s-eye point of view, the informal asymmetrical com- position, the flowers breaking into the frame, the color relation, and the strong linear quality — these are evidences of the same influence that we found in Degas, that of the Japanese print; the

MODERN ART

[a] Homer. Northeaster. iSg§. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. (Metropolitan Museum ) ■

full-length figure, so characteristic of Whistler’s portraits, the use of black and neutrals, the emphasis upon values, and the brushwork reveal a strong influence of Velasquez. Despite his art for art’s sake, Whistler was important in nine- teenth-century painting because, he struggled for the reinstatement of for- mal values in an art that had lost all sense of them as it tried to vie with the new realism attained by the camera.

John Singer Sai'gent (1856-1925), born in Florence and trained in the academic Parisian atmosphere, became the popular portrait-painter of socially prominent wealthy patrons. A virtuoso in pigment, he created surface effects with his brilliant dashing brushwork. But his paintings were devoid of formal significance and penetrating interpreta- tion. In the Wyndham Sisters (Fig. 689A), for example, there is neither composi- tional value nor characterization, but

only a superficial virtuosity in creating an effect of glamorous elegance.

In contrast to the Europeanized painters were the “solitaries,” who as- similated whatever, if any, European training and travel they had had and pursued their profession frequently in obscurity or isolation, without regard to the popular tastes and fashions of the day. Characteristic of this group were George Fuller (1822-1 884) ; Thomas Eakins (1844-1916); Albert P. Ryder (1847-1917); and Winslow Homer (1836-1910). Eakins, though thor- oughly trained in Europe, kept his feet firmly planted on local ground and his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon what- ever he was painting — chiefly the people and scenes of his own immediate environment — and produced the fin ished work after making a large number of preliminary drawings. The term “realist” is usually applied to Eakins.

[a] Ryder. Moonlit Cove. i8go~igoo. Phillips Memorial Gallery , Washington. {Phillips Memorial Gallery)

He was a realist not in the sense of of the “Gilded Age,” was thatofWins-

photographic verisimilitude but in his low Homer. His work as an illustrator

presentation of the essentials of objec- for Harper's Weekly until 1875 perhaps

tivity based upon a thorough under- determined the strongly illustrative

standing of structure. His sober color character of much of his painting. After

and uncompromising fidelity to objec- some European travel during which he

tive reality make his art austere. At purposely avoided art Centers, and a

times it displays weak passages estheti- sojourn in the tropics, the result of

cally or a lack of complete consistency which was some of his best water colors,

and unity of the esthetic elements. For he settled on the Maine coast and in

the what, vividly perceived, tended to isolation devoted himself to the inter-

overbalance the how. Yet its thorough- pretation of that locality. Like Eakins,

ness and probity have been a steadying he was firmly rooted in his own environ-

influence in the evolution of an Ameri- ment and did not scorn to use it as his

can tradition (Fig. 688a). raw material. While visual perception

Another sound influence in the latter was his starting-point and his objective,

part of the nineteenth century, though he expressed it with economy and with

like that of Eakins not felt in the midst as much concern for the organization

692

MODERN ART

[a] Unknown Artist. Glass Bowl with Fruit . c. 1820. Museum of Modern Art, New Tork City. ( Museum of Modem Art )

through which he expressed this raw material as for the material itself. In the Northeaster (Fig. 690A), for example, the relationship of lines and light and dark areas, the contrasts of movement, and immobility, are largely responsible for the expression and interpretation of this storm-resistant shore.

If Eakins and Homer are more or less realists both in content and in man- ner of expression, Ryder was the vision- ary, the mystic, and the abstractionist — the Blake, as he has been called, of American painting, though he lacked Blake’s great ability in drawing and in design. Clumsy in the use of his me- dium, for he was untrained even in the fundamentals of his craft, he reduced the elements of his composition to the simplest pattern and color, and labored over the surface, building it up thickly into a smooth texture. The sea, espe- cially in moonlight — a favorite sub- ject — was rooted in his own experience

as a youth on the shores of Long Island Sound. Such a painting as Moonlit Cove (Fig. 69 1 a) is a consistent expression of Ryder’s imaginative rendering of ac- tuality.

Close to the “solitaries” in distinction from the European-minded painters, and as untrained as the mystic Ryder, were the so-called primitives, whose work constituted a folk art, in which the subject matter was set forth with spontaneous directness. The untrained worker had to reach his objective in his own way, usually by means of con- ventions rather than naturalistically. Some of these paintings, in which in- tuitive esthetic feeling was joined with sound craftsmanship, attained a high quality. In landscape the work of Joseph Pickett (1848-1918) illustrates the type (Fig. 693A). Still life, reflecting an art of the home, was popular, and frequently exhibits no little sensitivity to formal values (Fig. 692 a). The work of these folk artists is found in many mediums besides painting. It is largely anony- mous, local, and much of it utilitarian — weathervanes, hitching posts, ships, figureheads, decoys, textiles and em- broideries, and furniture.

Though impressionism had won rec- ognition in Paris before 1886 and an exhibition of impressionistic pictures was held in New York in 1885, it had almost no effect upon the United States until the last decade of the century, when a few pioneers 1 began using the technique and thus opened up novel uses of pigment and a more intense and varied color. Basically, however, the

1 John H. Twachtman (1853-1902); J. Alden Weir (1852-1919); Willard L. Metcalf (1858-1925); Childe Hassam (1859-1935); Maurice B. Prendergast (1859-1924); Willis Redfield ( x 869- ) ; Ernest Lawson (1873-1939); Frederick Carl Frieseke (1874-1939); Gifford Reynolds Beal (1879- ); Jonas Lie (1880-

1940); and Mary Cassatt (1845-1926), who, however, dung more to the style of Degas and Manet than to the truly impressionistic.

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING 693

[a] Pickett. George Washington under Council Tree , CoryelVs Ferry , New Hope , Pennsyl- vania. igi 4 ~i 8 . Newark Museum. {Newark Museum )

result was the substitution of one French Alone in the World, or Hovenden’s Break -

technique for another, though the Ameri- ing Home Ties (the prize painting by

cans used impressionism with consider- popular vote of the 1893 World’s Co-

able individual variations. lumbian Exposition). Thus, apart from

Professionally, the American painter a few commissions for murals and por-

was now well equipped. But on the one traits, there was no function for the

hand, he had lost contact with his own painter and little demand for his prod-

root actualities; on the other, affluent net.

patrons were still purchasing European In protest against this almost exclusive

pictures, Dutch or French salon or patronage of European painters, in 1898 Barbizon styles being particularly popu- The Ten 1 organized and held an ex- lar; while the public was captivated by t Merritt chasej Thomas w . Dewing, childe the anecdotal, photographic picture, Hassam, Edmund C. Tarbell, John H. Twacht- usually sentimental, such as Israels’ man, and Alden Weir are the best known.

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[a] Sloan. Backyards , Greenwich Village, igr 4. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City. (C. W. Kraushaar)

hibition of their work. Another line of offense was developing among the young painters of the last decade of the century, with Robert Henri a leader in the attack. Individualists, soundly trained at home and abroad, they had sought stimulation wherever they could find it, in the Louvre and among the French rebels rather than in the aca- demic ateliers of Paris; and at home their profession as newspaper illustra- tors had thrust upon them, as it had upon Homer and Daumier, immediate contemporary life in all its phases as raw material for the artist.

In 1908 The Eight organized in re- bellion against the tyranny of authority in art in general and of Europeanized

studio art in particular. The diversity of aim and of style in this group, 1 united though they were in their general ob- jective, infused health and individuality into the evolving American tradition. Three of the group, Prendergast, Glack- ens, and Lawson, were luminists; Henri and Luks worked in the Chase and Du- veneck tradition of vigorous brushwork with strong contrasts in values, though their objective in painting — human significance — differed from that of the

1 Robert Henri (1865-1929); Maurice B. Prendergast (1859-1924); Arthur B. Davies (1862-1928); George B. Luks (1867-1933); William J. Glackens (1870-1938); Ernest Law- son (1873-1939); John Sloan (1871- );

George W. Bellows (1882-1925).

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING 695

[a] Bellows. A Stag at Sharkey’s, igog. HinmanB. Hurlbut Collection , Cleveland Museum of Art. (Cleveland Museum)

latter two, who were inclined to place technique and fine painting first. In this respect Henri and Luks were close to Manet, as they were at times tech- nically. Davies, though in his personal life and work he lived in the realm of fantasy, was a wholehearted supporter of the movement, and made an indi- vidual pioneer contribution by working in a large number of mediums, and thus broke the narrowly specialized craft of the American painter.

The influence of Henri was felt upon his contemporary Sloan and the some- what younger George Bellows. With these two painters — both were also ac- complished etchers and lithographers — the objective became the interpretation of the Amex'ican scene, the human ac- tualities of their own milieu. Sloan’s

keen observation was probably stimu- lated by Eakins’s paintings, for his early training was in Philadelphia, but the satiric strain with which he infused his observations was his own (Fig. 694A). Much of his work is a faithful interpre- tative record of life in the alleys, back yards, bars, and harbor of New York, and some of his best productions are etchings.

Because of their subject matter, which shocked the academic painters and the public as well, the whole group associated with Sloan and Bellows was contemptuously dubbed the ashcan school. Of all the group Bellows perhaps plunged most wholeheartedly into the contemporary scene, and because of his forceful personality frequently selected vigorous and dramatic subjects, such as A Stag at Sharkey’s (Fig. 695A) , in which one sees the vigor of his brushwork, a technical use of pigment consistent with the energy of his personality, strongly contrasting values, and accomplished composition. It was members of this group who were responsible for bringing to the United States the International Exhibition of Modern Art (known as the Armory Show) of 1913, a show which was a definite landmark in the modern movement on this side of the Atlantic.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Folk Art , Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1932

American painting & Sculpture, 1862-1932, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, and Norton,

• 93 *

Bushnell, David J., Jr., Sketches by Paul Kane in the Indian Country, 1845-1848, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., 1940 Cahill, Holger, and Barr, Alfred H., Jr., Art in America, Halcyon House, 1939 A Century of American Landscape Painting, 1800- 1900, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City, 1938

Cortissoz, Royal, American Artists, Scribner, 1923 Cowdrey, Bartlett, and Williams, Hermann W., Jr., William Sidney Mount, Columbia Uni- versity Press, 1944

Drepperd, Carl W., American Pioneer Arts & Artists, Pond-Ekberg, 1942 Duret, Theodore, Whistler, tr. by Frank Rutter, Lippincott, 1917

Goodrich, Lloyd, Thomas Eakins, His Life and Work, Whitney Museum of American Art, 1933

Winslow Homer, Macmillan, 1944

Inness, George, Jr., Life, Art, and Letters of George Inness, Century, 1917

Janis, Sidney, They Taught Themselves, Dial Press, 1942

Life in America, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1939

Lipman, Jean, American Primitive Painting, Ox- ford University Press, 1942 Mather, Frank J., Jr., Morey, Charles R., and Henderson, William J., The American Spirit in Art, Yale University Press, 1927, Pageant of America, Vol. 12

Mumford, Lewis, The Brown Decades, Harcourt, Brace, 1931

Pennell, E. R., and Joseph, The Life of James

McNeill Whistler, 6th ed. rev., Lippincoti* 1920

Peters, Harry T., Currier & Ives, Doubleday, Doran, 1942

Richardson, Edgar P., American Romantic Paint - ing, Weyhe, 1944

— — - — ■ — The Way of Western Art, 1776-1914.^

Harvard University Press, 1 939 Sixth Loan Exhibition, New York , May, 1950 ; Window Homer, Albert P. Ryder, Thomas Eakins, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1930

Whitney Museum of American Art, monographs by various authors on Bellows, Davies, Glackens, Luks, Prendergast, Twachtman, and others

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 791-92.

Latin American Painting and Folk Arts

E ARLY in the nineteenth century, l Spain was already decadent and was permeated by French influence through the coming of the Bourbons to the throne. The Spanish colonies, en- gulfed in oppression and intolerance, were becoming restless. Their leaders, notably Miranda, Bolivar, and San Martin, imbued with French liberal drought and witnessing the actual prac- tice of freedom in the one-time English colonies followed by the great outburst of the French Revolution, eventually brought their own lands to independ- ence. But their revolutions were much more formidable than that in the Eng- lish colonies, which were relatively small and compact, politically and so- cially homogeneous, and had had some experience in self-government. The Spanish colonies, on the contrary, were spread over vast areas in which geo- graphical diversity and almost insur- mountable difficulties of travel and transportation militated against unity. There were racial differences, also. Large unassimilated elements were held in peonage by a small ruling class who, despite freedom from Spain, wished to

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

perpetuate the existing social and eco- nomic system. Closely linked with this class was the Church, still wealthy and powerful. Thus the revolutions in His- panic and Portuguese America lasted longer than that in the English colonies, varied in different parts of the conti- nent, and, because of lack of experience in self-government under the oppressive Spanish rule, were followed by periods of disorder, or even chaos. In fact, in some of these countries this condition still exists. On the whole, culturally, the South American countries have clung more tenaciously to Europe than have those of North America.

In these circumstances — far more even than in the case of the English colonies — freedom in art did not follow political freedom. The colonial ideal continued. What happened usually was merely a shift from Spain to France; a few of the former colonies remained loyal culturally to the mother country. Important changes, however, did take place. The ecclesiastical art of the colo- nial age was largely superseded by an art that was secular both in content and in control, the control passing to lay institutions, frequently to the govern- ment itself. Government-sponsored academies were established, manned by Europeans who were mostly French, and pupils were sent to Paris for further training. Thus while art was liberated from the domination of the Church, it fell under that of the French Academy, with its official exhibitions, salons, and building-up of collections. Painters, in- structors, and students alike clung to the academic wing of French art — the classicists, the romanticists, with per- haps a slight contact with the Barbizon group, or the atelier of Bouguereau — - and imbibed the ideology as well as the technique of the French salon. On the whole they were quite untouched by the great revolution going on in French painting.

697

Thus classicism in painting followed closely on the classical movement in architecture that had already swept the Continent, and pupils of David were coming to most of the important Latin American cities both as painters and as instructors in the academies. But, as in Europe, the liberalizing effect of roman- ticism was more in accord with the spirit of the independence movement.

One cannot generalize about the complex art movements in this large number of countries , 1 all of which were living through revolutions and periods of chaos. Perhaps one outstanding fact is that no great art expression resulted from these upheavals in the nineteenth century. However, we can discern three general currents or trends.

First, there was the academic salon art, frequently but not always dull, de- rived in style and largely in content from Europe to satisfy the tastes of European-minded cities, and controlled by European-guided academies. Apart from some church murals, the subjects were portraits and battle or historical scenes or genre. Even with such local subjects the style was European.

A second movement was that of the regionalist and costumbrista painters. This was a result of the revolutions and the romantic movement, which inspired both individuals and scientific expedi- tions to seek out exotic peoples and places and record observations. Though on the whole not on the level of great art, not a few of the landscapes, street and country scenes, and studies of cos- tumes and customs show fresh obser- vation and a quality far above mere recording.

A third current was that of the arts of the people, in which were combined both deeply rooted indigenous and de- rivative elements. These arts tended to

1 Still further complicated by the fact that little is known of many of the painters. It is a field still unexplored by scholars.

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698

flourish away from the Europeanized cities, were functional in the lives of the people, and, though somewhat af- fected by European influences, carried on the long-lived indigenous traditions and eventually became a powerful stim- ulation toward — in fact an ingredient of — the great renascence of the twen- tieth century.

Let us discuss these three a little more in detail, beginning with the academic school. Portrait-painting flourished in the colonies, as it did in Spain and France. The influence of Goya was strong in every country and, side by side with it, echoes of French classi- cism. Prilidiano Pueyrredon (1823- 1870) of Buenos Aires, one of the more original of the nineteenth-century paint- ers, after studying with the neoclassical painters of the San Fernando Academy in Madrid, returned to Argentina to paint well-known personages of the aristocracy with penetrating interpreta- tion. Genre scenes interested him as well, especially gaucho life, which he depicted with no little skill in the clear delineation and the careful balancing of line and light and dark color areas, and which he infused with a feeling broader in scope than the anecdotal painting then in vogue in France, England, and the United States. A French painter, Raymond Monvoisin (1794-1870), a product of the French Academy and very influential in propagating French influence in Argentina, Chile, and Peru, painted both the contemporary leaders and the gauchos with the incisive linear quality of Ingres. Carlos Enrique Pelle- grini of Paris ( 1 800-1 875) also painted, in the Ingres style, the aristocratic ladies of Argentina; Antonio Salas of Ecuador (died, 1867), the heroes of the wars of independence; as did Jos6 Gil de Castro (i730?-i 825?), a Peruvian mestizo who, in his capacity of official painter of Chile, portrayed not only Bolivar and San Martin but also Bernardo O’Hig-

gins, the Chilean hero of independence. Gil’s work, based on that of the Cuczo school, has a simple directness, in the manner of folk portraiture.

Painters of battle and historical scenes were stimulated by a nationalistic fervor growing out of the wars of independence in much the same way as those in the United States. This fervor, not satisfied with simple portraiture, led to the per- petuation of heroes and events in huge canvases of battle and historical scenes which were national records rather than works of art. In the field of genre, the spirit of romanticism is evident in the painting which took as its subjects gauchos, Indians, and local historical events. This usually was a superficial recording of appearance rather than a sympathetic interpretation, except in the hands of a few of the more gifted painters, such as Pueyrredon and Juan Manuel Blanes of Uruguay (1830- 1901) . Blanes, trained in Italy, was ac- complished in painting historical and genre scenes with dramatic fervor — scenes of gaucho life, of incidents in the career of San Martin, such as the Review ofRancagua {The Military Review of 1885), painted with an honest realism that lies between histrionic romanticism and the photographic anecdote. His Incident of the Yellow Fever, a scene from the great epidemic in Buenos Aires, illustrates his ability to heighten a tragic incident by a dramatic use of concentrated light and dark.

The second current was that of the regionalist and costumbrista painters — that is, painters of the local scene, of customs and everyday life, as well as of landscapes. This thread of regional painting began in the seventeenth cen- tury with the work of Frans Post and others who came to the Dutch colonies in Pernambuco to paint scenes of towns, plantations, and people. The thread was lost in the ecclesiasticism of the colonial age, to reappear with the coming of

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

699

[a] Velasco. Valley of Mexico from the Hill of Tepeyac. 1905. Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes , Mexico. ( Philadelphia Museum of Art )

Jean-Baptiste Debret, a pupil of David, who published a series of lithographs of people and places in his Voyage pit- toresque et historique au Bresil (published in Paris, 1834); and with the coming of Johann Moritz Rugendas, a Bavar- ian painter and wood engraver who accompanied a scientific expedition as draftsman and traveled widely from Argentina and Chile to California. Captivated, like a true romanticist, by the picturesqueness of the land and the people, Rugendas painted and drew everyday people and everyday life in country and in city. Many of these paintings and drawings were repro- duced in lithograph and so became widely distributed. Debret and Ru- gendas are but two of a considerable number of traveling painters and lithog- raphers, who at least popularized a fresh point of view in that they turned

attention to the common people and to their environment as subject matter for the artist. Like them, the costumbrista painters, in every country, produced water colors, pen drawings, and litho- graphs depicting customs and modes of living, a genre painting of the people, in distinction from the genre painting of the aristocracy usually produced by the well-known artists, such as Pueyr- redon and Blanes. Some of the best of this work is water color. In this medium Ramon Salas of Ecuador, son of the portrait-painter Antonio, depicted the customs of Quito; Pancho Fierro the life of the streets of Lima; Francisco Lasso ( 1 81 0-1868) and Ignacio Merino (1817-1876), the Incas of Peru; Ramon Torres-Mendez, the costumes and daily activities of the Colombians. Some of tbis regional and costumbrista painting has no little freshness and charm about

MODERN ART

it in comparison with the generally sterile work of the academic painters. On the whole, however, it tended to be objective recording. To some degree, it is analogous to the work of Mount, Inman, Bingham, Eastman Johnson, and the early Winslow Homer, except that this latter group is rooted in the soil and though realistic, is deeper in understanding.

In the field of landscape, the same movement appears in Middle, Central, and South America as in the United States. As the spirit of nationalism stim- ulated not only the Hudson River school to paint the local scene of New York and New England but also the pano- ramists to penetrate the vast West, so landscape-painters in Middle, Central, and South America found subject mat- ter for painting in the magnificence of nature in their own lands. Perhaps the most accomplished of these was Jose Marla Velasco of Mexico (1840-1912), who in painting the Valley of Mexico (Fig. 699A), his favorite subject, is far more an organizer than his contem- poraries in the United States. For after holding the eye of the observer on the picture plane by the decorative use of the rich flora of the valley, he cuts his planes to the distant peaks with an al- most Poussin-like clarity.

The third current or thread in this complex fabric of nineteenth-century painting was the art of the people and by the people, in distinction from the derivative European art produced mostly for the ruling classes. The latter was the art of the capitals and larger cities. But there were great areas of these vast lands either untouched and left to the Indians or penetrated only by the more sympathetic among the missionaries. Many towns and villages were fairly free from the influence of the cities and continued to produce a folk art rooted in their life that was vital, and esthetically of high value. In

the field of painting this is well illus- trated by the Mexican retablos, which continued to be important, and by paintings on the shop facades, an authentic expression of simple, un- trained, naturally gifted artists. Some show a knowledge of European prin- ciples of perspective and sculptural use of light and shade. They are more likely, however, to reflect the tradition of flat linear design derived from the ancient codices and murals, and at times dis- play a startling juxtaposition of brilliant color areas. This was an authentic art, spontaneous because it sprang directly from the experiences of living. And it later proved vitally important in that it carried the thread of an indigenous art into the twentieth century and served as one of the bases for the emer- gence of the great Mexican painting of this century.

The folk arts as a whole were bewil- dering in number, because they were devoted to making objects necessary to everyday living and hence were as var- ied as the activities of life. All were rooted in ancient traditions of technique and design but capable of absorbing new methods and motifs brought by the Spaniard. In Mexico, ceramics, tex- tiles, and lacquer were perhaps the most important of the folk arts, though leath- erwork, silver, masks, straw inlay, and basketry also deserve mention.

In the field of ceramics we find a derivative art in the talavera ware of Puebla. Puebla was a thoroughly Span- ish city, and to it potters were brought from Spain to establish the making of this well-known fabric. Besides utili- tarian objects for home use, we find tiles in blue, white, and yellow, for patios and fountains, church facades and domes. Technique and design were Spanish, with some Moorish elements and also some Chinese, the latter learned from traders landing at coastal cities on their way from the Far East. This was

NINETEENTH-CENTURY PAINTING

an art largely at the service of the aris- tocracy and the Church.

But pottery-making for home use and for trade had always been one of the most important arts of the people. Much of this indigenous ware was very plain and simple. In the nineteenth-century revolution, a new demand for better fabrics for the middle classes, together with new techniques introduced by the Spaniards, proved a great stimulation. Though pottery was made everywhere, perhaps the more important centers were the state of Guerrero; Tonala, near Guadalajara; Oaxaca; the state of Michoacan; the state of Guanajuato; and Metepec. The Guerrero state pro- duced strong bold water jars and bowls, cream in color with decorations in black stylized figures or linear patterns drawn with great vitality; Tonala, more grace- ful water jars painted in soft colors with conventionalized flower or animal pat- terns. Oaxaca had its gaily glazed dishes, its black ware made in simple sensitive shapes and undecorated ex- cept for tool markings to give texture to the surface, and its black whistles in simplified animal shapes. In the state of Michoacan, in the midst of a great variety, the bird-shaped water jars were reminiscent of preconquest wares. The state of Guanajuato produced plates with flowers and animals in green and red- brown glaze on a cream ground. Me- tepec was the home of gaily painted ceramic toys. The making of toys, largely ceramic but in other materials also, reveals a deep wellspring in the Mexican, a need to make things for sheer joy— gay, humorous objects filled with life and always satisfying estheti- cally.

Almost as widespread as the ceramic art was the art of the weaver. In the more isolated regions primitive looms continued to be used, as well as tradi- tional weaves and patterns, though at times Spanish motifs crept in. The ar-

ticles woven were things for everyday use, chief of which perhaps were the serape, a man’s cloak and blanket, usu- ally of wool; the rebozo, the woman’s shawl and headdress, sometimes made of silk, a fiber brought in after the con- quest; and smaller articles such as belts, sashes, and carrying bags. As with the pottery, every region had its own dis- tinctive color, which ranged from the neutral colors of the wool to the most brilliant hues daringly juxtaposed and interwoven, and also its individual de- sign — both of which designated the origin of the fabric. The designs tended to be geometric, as in many of the serapes; or to use highly conventional bird, animal, and flower motifs, as in the cotton and wool embroideries of the Huichol and Otomi tribes.

The art of lacquering also continued from ancient times in two centers, Oli- nala in Guerrero and Uruapan irt Mi- choacan, both of which were situated where the needed materials were avail- able. Gourds and wooden objects af- forded a base, which was covered with a black lacquer coating in which the design was cut and the different colors were inlaid and then polished; or a sgraffito process was used, producing a raised design in two colors.

These native arts were to be found throughout Middle, Central, and South America. Only a few of them can be mentioned here: the textiles of Guate- mala; the clay figurines representing everyday people or fruit and flowers of Ecuador; the silver of Peru and Chile, still partaking of the bold style of the unconquerable Araucanian Indians. All this folk art, with its high esthetic values, stood in sharp contrast to the crafts of Europe and the United States, which felt the impact of the machine and mass production, the immediate result of which was to end making articles by hand and to substitute copies made by the machine.

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702

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson, Lawrence, The Art of the Silversmith in Mexico , 1519-1936, 2 vols., Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1941

Benavides Rodriquez, Alfredo, La Arquitectura en el Virreinato del Peril y en la Capitania General de Chile , Santiago, 1941 Burr, Grace H., Hispanic Furniture, Hispanic Society of America, 1941 Buschiazzo, Mario J., Indigenous Influences on the Colonial Architecture of Latin America, Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., May 1941

Chilean Contemporary Art, Toledo Museum of Art, Toledo, Ohio, 1942

Gossio del Pomar, F,, Pintura colonial, escuela Cuzqueha, Cuzco, 1928

Ferndndez, Justino, El arte moderno en Mexico, Mexico City, 1937

Goodwin, Philip L., Brazil Builds, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1943 Grant, Frances R., Some Artistic Tendencies in South America, Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.G., October 1929 Griffin, Charles C., ed., Concerning Latin American Culture, Columbia University Press, 1940 Hanson, Earl P., ed., The New World Guides to the Latin American Republics, 2 vols., Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1 943

Hewett, Edgar L., and Fisher, Reginald G., Mission Monuments of New Mexico, University of New Mexico Press, 1943 Kelemen, Pal, Colonial Architecture in Guatemala , Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.G., August .'194-1'

Kilham, Walter H., Mexican Architecture of the Vice-Regal Period, Longmans, Green, 1927 Knee, Ernest, Santa Fe, New Mexico, Hastings House, 1942

Rubier, George, The Religious Architecture of New Mexico, Taylor Museum, Colorado Springs Fine Art Center, Colorado Springs, Col- orado, 1940

Leao, Joaquim de Sousa, Ouro Preto, Brazil, Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Wash- ington, D.C., November 1938 Leon, Francisco de P., Los Esmaltes de Urrnpan, Mexico City, 1939

Means, Philip A., Fall of the Inca Empire, Scrib- ner, 1932

Morris, B. T., “The Feather Art of Old Mexico,” House Beautiful, April 1931, p. 368 Navarro, Jos6 G., Art in Ecuador, Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., August 1925

— Contribuciones a la historia del arte

in Ecuador, Quito, 1939

— Quito, Bulletin of the Pan American

Union, Washington, D.C., September 1934

— — Religious Architecture in Quito,

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, 1945

Newcomb, Rexford, The Franciscan Mission Architecture of Alta California, Architectural Book Publishing Company, 19x6 — The Old Mission Churches and His- toric Houses of California, Lippincott, 1925 Rippy, James F., Historical Evolution of Hispanic America, Crofts, 1940

Schiaffino, Eduardo, La Pintura y la escultura en Argentina, 1783-1894, Buenos Aires, 1933 Smith, Robert C., “XIX Century Painting in Argentina,” Gazette des Beaux Arts, Series vi, Vol. 22, No. 909, p. 99, November 1942

— The Colonial Architecture of Minas

Gerais in Brazil, Art Bulletin, June 1939

The Colonial Churches of Brazil ,

Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., January 1938

— — t “Latin American Painting Comes

into Its Own,” Inter-American Quarterly, July

1940

Sold, Miguel, Historia del arte Hispano-Americano, Barcelona, 1935

Toor, Frances, “Mexican Popular Arts” special number, Mexican Folk-Ways , Mexico City, August 1935

Toussaint, Manuel, Tres siglos de arquitectura colonial, Mexico City, 1933 Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1940 Van Pelt, Garrett, Jr., Old Architecture of Southern Mexico, f H. Jansen, 1926 Veldsquez Chdvez, Agustfn, Tres siglos de pintura colonial Mexicana, Mexico City, 1939 Wilder, Mitchell A., and Breitenbach, Edgar, Santos; The Religious Folk Art of New Mexico, Taylor Museum, Colorado Springs Fine Art Center, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1943

Wilgus, Alva C., The Development of Hispanic America, Farrar & Rinehart, 1941 Williams, Mary W., The People and Politics of Latin America, new ed., Ginn, 1938

SUMMARY

The nineteenth century was a century of complex and confusing dislocations. It was a century of revolution in society, economics, politics, technology, indus- try, and art. The Industrial Revolu- tion, together with the segregation of art from the cultural fabric, deprived the artist of his earlier normal place in civilization.

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In architecture two currents of thought were clearly discernible. One, the main broad stream found every- where, was that of eclecticism, a follow- ing of the styles of the past. The other was a small but vital trickle, that of the en- gineers and a few forward-looking archi- tects who rebelled against the “styles,” and saw in the new methods of con- struction, the use of new materials, and the demand for new kinds of buildings suitable for an industrial age a chal- lenge to original forms more in har- mony with a rapidly changing era. Here were the beginnings of modern architecture. Painting broke more rap- idly with the past; in Paris, the storm center and focal point of the century, it passed through a series of revolution- ary movements: classicism, romanticism, naturalism, impressionism, each of which in turn took issue with con- servative academism.

In all the Americas, painting fol- lowed the French school largely, and except for some imitation of the Bar- bizon school kept close to the academic wing until the last decade of the cen- tury, when impressionism became popu- lar. In the United States a protest

7°3

against derivative painting, the Colo- nial ideal, finally eventuated in the Armory Show of 1913, which, introduc- ing postimpressionism, was a turning- point in the evolution of American painting. The other American coun- tries, though now separated from Europe politically, remained firmly neo-European in their outlook in gen- eral and in their art, notably in their official art. But in both American con- tinents there existed alongside neo- European painting a native folk art, together with the work of a few in- dividuals who sought an expression rooted in their own environment. As with architecture, this current was to provide fertile ground for the growth of twentieth-century art. Its healthy growth involved the continuity of the tradition of many arts — pottery, weav- ing, metalwork, lacquer — in those lands not yet affected by the machine and where an aboriginal culture lay latent, yet vital. Thus the nineteenth century seems to have been a chaotic, transitional age, in which the lingering Renaissance came into conflict with the upsurging of a new and as yet unnamed era.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY

CULTURALLY, no specific year and no specific event mark the passage of the nineteenth century into the twentieth, so part and parcel are they of one great transitional movement from the decadent Renaissance to the dimly discerned and as yet unnamed new age. At present the culture of the United States is witnessing unbelievable strides, probably not yet a climax, in science, technology, and industry. These make our civilization mechanistic, ur- ban, and secular. At the same time great social changes are taking place. The roots of this culture are deep in the past and its growth was mightily ac- celerated by the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution, with all their implications.

The same forces are now at work with accelerated speed. World War I, the Great Depression, and World War II have followed one another in swift suc- cession, and the chaos of the nineteenth century has become the superchaos of the twentieth — - a chaos, however, that is the outward expression of an evolu- tionary process. “The only normalcy is change.” Culture is never static. Under the impact of inexorable forces it is constantly changing, at times impercep- tibly, at times with the eruptive force of a volcano. The latter kind of change we are witnessing today. Ferment, con- fusion, and realignment have developed a faculty for -isms, -ologies, and -ocracies — necessarily, for only by experiment can the way out be found.

Because of the swiftness and ease of intercommunication, a new concept has emerged out of the present tumult — that of one total world, inextricably interrelated. On the one hand, nation- alism is rampant; on the other, an earnest endeavor struggles to control nationalism within the larger frame- work of internationalism. An additional note heard is the world-wide voice of the people, “the common man,” in pro- test against the old order of the favored few.

All these trends are reflected in the arts. A hopeful sign is that socially and economically the artist is again, though slowly, finding a place in this evolving order; he is coming closer to his audi- ence, the people. Consider his position before the nineteenth century. The State, the Church, princes, and guilds kept up a steady demand for his prod- ucts. Works of art seem to have been created but rarely unless commissioned for a specific function. Thus the artist performed a definite, necessary role in the social organization and had few, if any, economic worries, because supply and demand balanced. By the nine- teenth century, however, such patron- age had almost ceased, and the advent of the machine, which began to elimi- nate the handcrafts, completed the seg- regation of the artist from the cultural fabric. Now, however, there are signs that the artist and his twentieth-century patron, the people, are coming together. Artists are breaking down the walls of specialization. Painters are designing machine-made articles as well as ballet settings, and are reaching out into the fields of weaving, ceramics, and glass.

Painters and sculptors are collaborating expressive of the new emerging order,

with builders in providing murals and At the same time there exists the lag of

decorative accents. The people, on their the old order. For traditions are strong,

part, when they thrill at the RCA Build- and even in chaotic times they tend to

ing, an airplane, or a streamlined rail- evolve slowly. We need to keep in mind

road train, or when they take delight also that just as the arts seemed to be

in a mechanized kitchen or in a simple, making strides in new directions, the

gaily colored gadget from the live-and- United States was plunged into World

ten, or when they select an automobile War I, and then, after a decade of boom,

on the basis of its lines and color, are be- into the Great Depression, and on into

ginning — barely beginning — to par- World War II — a course of events

ticipate with the artist in a common which, with social and economic im-

understanding, and may be laying the plications, has vastly affected all the

foundation of a new style that will be arts.

[a] Falling Water. Bear Run, Pennsylvania. Frank Lloyd Wright , architect. 1936. ( Hedrich - Blessing Studio)

[a] Robie House. Chicago. Frank Lloyd Wright , architect . igo8-og. ( Ryerson Library )

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

T HE divergent trends which, as we have seen, characterize the twen- tieth century, became clearly differen- tiated in architecture as the century came into its third decade following World War I. Eclecticism continued — and still lingers — though somewhat in- vigorated by new ideas and new forms. We still are building, almost the world over, classical banks. Renaissance homes, Gothic or Byzantine churches, and Gothic universities. But among ad- venturous artists the break with eclec- ticism has been sharp and clean, a break with its philosophy as well as its forms. In place of something authorita- tive, a desirable pattern to be copied,

the modern architect has substituted a look at his own world, a search for its needs in the light of its own changing milieu. He is aware of a primarily in- dustrial, urban, technological Machine Age that requires new kinds of buildings — factories, stores and offices, apart- ment houses, large housing projects for “the common man 55 — in place of the temples and palaces that predominated in the architecture of the past. He is aware of huge cities in which these buildings are packed into small, over- crowded areas. He is aware of a bewil- dering number of materials, old and new; of new tools, new methods of con- struction, and mass production. He is

[a] S. C. Johnson and Son Wright , architect. 1936-39. (, Johnson's Wax)

aware of a close tie between the architect and the engineer, and realizes that they may be, in fact often are, synonymous. He is aware of overwhelming scientific discoveries, of swift, world-wide com- munication, and of forces that are re- shaping society. In frankly facing such a world, the architect realizes that older methods, materials, and techniques will hardly suffice. He must explore. But he also realizes that esthetic values are still to be attained, as they always have been, by certain qualities of proportion, balance, contrast, coherence of parts; by fitness for function and adaptability to site.

The challenge to meet the needs of this changing world was felt by indi-

vidual pioneers in the late nineteenth century and the early twentieth in Ger- many, Austria, Belgium, France, and the United States. Influential in the United States and even more so in Europe in the transitional period be- tween the pioneering stage and the fully developed modern age was Frank Lloyd Wright (1869- ). In domestic

architecture in particular his work has been significant. His early Robie House (Fig. 706A) shows an emphasis upon horizontality that results from his prin- ciple of tying the house closely to its site, of establishing continuity between the house and the out-of-doors. Con- tinuity between the parts of the interior space is established by the suppression

708

MODERN ART

[a] Row of Houses. Hook of Holland. J. J. P. Oud 3 architect. 1924-27. (. Museum of Modern Art)

of partitions wherever possible. Ganti- levering the roofs eliminates outside ver- tical supports, which would appear to enclose the house, and thus enables it to open more expansively to its envi- ronment. We see and feel here the predominance of horizontal lines and horizontal planes — obvious, for ex- ample, in the overhanging roofs, which intersect and interplay with vertical lines and planes, and in the massive chimney. The structure is an organic unit in which the parts of the interior space flow one into another and thence by way of the exterior to the surround- ing site. “I still believe that the ideal of an organic architecture forms the origin and source, the strength and, fundamentally, the significance of every- thing ever worthy the name of architec- ture. By organic architecture I mean an architecture that develops from within outward in harmony with the conditions of its being as distinguished from one that is applied from without .” 1

1 Frank Lloyd Wright, Wendigen, p. 35.

In his California and Southwestern houses Wright has responded to dif- ferent conditions of topography and climate. The Millard House (Los Ange- les) is a geometric block with flat roof, solid walls, and few windows, and is tied closely to its hilly site, to its gardens and lofty trees. Its material is concrete blocks, some of which are molded into decorative patterns and thus enable the builder to secure contrast of broken and unbroken surfaces. Again in his design for a lodge among the firs at Lake Tahoe, and in one for a camp on the cactus-covered desert of Arizona, he ex- hibits his capacity to apply his principle of organic architecture to each indi- vidual problem and to use materials for their intrinsic qualities and for their suitability to the project in hand. Fall- ing Water (Bear Run; Fig. 705A) shows a subtle relation to environment. The house is built on a rocky ledge over a stream in the midst of thick woods. Two contrasting materials are used in its construction: rough local stone, the

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

709 ’

[a] Savoye House. Poissy-sur-Seine, France. Le Corbusier , architect. 1929-30. (Museum of Modem Art)

Same as that of the ledge, laid in narrow strips to form the walls and chimney, and smooth reinforced concrete in the cantilevered balconies which project over the stream. The color and texture of these materials again offer contrast to the falling water and the trunks and foliage of the trees, yet all tie into an intimate unity. In this house even more than in the Robie House one sees inter- secting planes, predominantly hori- zontal, and feels the continuity of space, the reaching of the interior out into its environment, with enough contrast to provide virility.

In the field 'of industrial buildings Wright has experimented in external problems of simplified geometric vol- umes and internal problems of lighting, as in the Larkin Building (Buffalo, New York) early in his career, and the S i C. Johnson and Son Administration Building (Fig. 707A) of recent years. In the latter, he introduced slender tapering columns of hollow reinforced concrete which spread out, treelike, into large disks

which form the roof except for the in- terstices, which are filled with glass. The circular motif of the disk is repeated in the furnishings. The walls of the build- ing, which include strips of glass, are nonfunctional as supports.

The pioneering and the exploration which continued up to World War I in both Europe and America were the achievements of individuals working more or less in isolation rather than in a general movement. After the war a trend toward a coherence of these ef- forts into a general movement became evident, and in this trend Wright’s work became influential — more so in Europe than in America and signally so in Hol- land. There Willem Marinus Dudok (1884— ) was already experiment-

ing, in his School and Municipal Bath- house at Hilversum, in simple volumes of brick laid so as to secure plain sur- faces with richly vibrating texture.

Housing projects were in great de- mand in the decade following the war; for reasons of economy they had to be

[a] Bauhaus v Demra. Wfafcr' Gropius, architect. 1926. {Museum of Modern Art )

MODERN ART

as simple as possible and constructed of standardized units. This challenge was met in Holland most successfully by J. J. P. Oud ( 1 890- ) . The early tendency of the modern builders was to go to the extreme of functionalism and geometry expressed by Le Corbusier — “The house shall be a machine in which to live”; and by Bruno Taut — “the perfect and therefore also beautiful effi- ciency.” While such a philosophy led to the erection of buildings of a stark character, the esthetic impulse soon be- gan to infuse pure efficiency, just as in Paleolithic times, when the quality of the curves of a flint was as much a mat- ter of concern to the maker as the sharp- ness of its edges.

This quality appears in the Row of Houses which Oud built at the Hook of Holland. He had passed through the stage of stark geometry under the influences of the neoplasticist painters and sculptors, Mondrian and van Doesburg, that of the suprematist Kasimir Malevich, and that of the Russian constructivists, who in their constructions made out of various materials were experimenting in prob- lems of interrelated and interpenetrating spaces, applicable both to architecture and to sculpture and as completely non- objective as Mondrian’s. It is note- worthy that a similar purpose was moti- vating the painters at this time — the cubists. In fact the whole situation was analogous to that of early fifteenth- century Florence when Masaccio in painting, Brunelleschi in architecture, and Donatello in sculpture were all seeking solutions of spatial problems. Oud, in his Row of Houses with corner shops (Fig. 708A), by his use of concrete, brick, glass, and iron and by accents of color and contrasting textures and by a complete absence of ornament, created buildings whose refreshing clarity and conciseness, whose sensitively realized proportions and related parts, produce a satisfying result. The long two-story block with a ribbon arrangement of windows and a wide cornice over the first story, paralleling the unbroken horizontal of the flat roof, suggests in its emphasis upon horizontality the in- fluence of Wright. This rectangular vol- ume Oud saved from rigid regularity by bending it at the end into cylinders, like abstract sculpture, and by playing

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

!

[a] Tugendhat House. Garden fagade. Brno , Czechoslovakia. Mies van der Rohe , architect, iggo. {Museum of Modern Art)

subtly upon the theme of the cylinders in the details — as in the cylindrical supports — and upon the curved line, in contrast to the straight angularity of the rest of the building.

A similar evolution from “a machine in which to live” to a work of art is seen in the work of Le Corbusier him- self. Le Corbusier, also a painter and in that field known as Charles Edouard Jeanneret, has been widely influential through his writings as well as through his buildings. About the same time that Oud was building his houses at thb Hook of Holland, Le Corbusier was softening the severity of his earlier build- ings, such as the Vaucresson House near Paris. In the later Savoye House (Fig. 709 a), though the structure is contained within a space determined by a clean- cut rectangular volume lifted on slender piers, within this space there is a lively interplay of volumes, of curved and straight lines, of color and texture, and of exterior and interior space. A person whose eyes are habituated to strongly supporting stone walls may feel a sense of instability in the slender supports until

he begins to realize the tensile strength of steel (the framework is of ferrocon- crete) and the possibilities of cantilever- ing. The house is conceived as a hollow rectangular volume within which open terraces and roof gardens — something like a patio — take up considerable space. But in the patio plan, the house, more or less sealed off from the outside world, opens inward upon its patio, whereas the Savoye House , because of its broad ribbon of openings, gives visual access to the environment in all direc- tions, thus uniting the outside and the inside.

In Germany the early work of Eric Mendelsohn explored the possibilities of concrete, as seen in his Einstein Tower (Potsdam; 1 920-1921). In his Schocken Store (Fig. 716B), the design of alternat- ing broken and unbroken ribbons is a mode of fenestration widely used every- where in modern architecture.

Walter Gropius of Germany (now a resident of the United States), like Oud, was drawn toward a study of abstract volumes and spatial relationships through contact with the neoplasticists

MODERN ART

[a] McGraw-Hill Building . New York. Raymond Hood, architect. 1931. ( Museum of Modern Art)

of Holland. This is evident in the Bau- haus (Fig. 710A), a structure consisting of three parts, each with a distinct func- tion: workshops, classrooms, and living quarters, each designed according to its use and all united into an asymmet- rically balanced group. In the workshop section, long ribbons of glass, alternat- ing with bands of stucco and broken asymmetrically to relieve monotony, furnish adequate light for the shops; in another part a great sheathing of glass with stucco borders at top and bottom is hung on cantilevered pro-

jections which jut out from the ferro- concrete framework. Here the concept of corner solidity, implicit in the ma- sonry wall and even continued in some steel construction buildings, is entirely eliminated. The glass planes meet so lightly and cleanly that the outside and the inside space merge into each other.

The work of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886- ) of Berlin (now a

resident of the United States) shows an architect intent upon a study of space — but not so much of space as defined by the planes of a volume as, again, of the continuity of space both within the volumes and also as flowing into ex- ternal space. The German Pavilion at the Barcelona Exposition is an example of the flow of one part into another, the continuity of interior space rather than its division into tightly separated units. In addition, the artist has made effec- tive use of different textures, including that of the water and the trees, and of a contrasting element to the smooth planes in the single statue standing in the pool of water. The Tugendhat House is a rectangular volume with clean unbroken lines and surfaces, austerely geometric. The garden side (Fig. 711A) consists of a wide ribbon of glass with unbroken borders and with an effective diagonal in the stairway. The interior space is a continuous unit with the Various rooms marked off by partial or movable partitions. In this way it is possible to retain the continuity of one spatial unit and at the same time to divide it into smaller units as function or convenience may require. A wall of plate glass, which can be lowered elec- trically to open the house to the out-of- doors, or across which velvet curtains can be drawn; a half-partition of onyx supplemented by silk and velvet cur- tains on chromium rails; fine woods in the furnishings — the interplay of the colors and textures of these materials produces an impression of subdued ele-

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

7i3

gance and, being free from clashing contrasts, contributes to that feeling of continuity which makes the house an illustration of Wright’s “organic archi- tecture.”

Other European countries — Belgium, Finland, Italy, Romania, Russia, Sweden, Switzerland — were drawn into the architectural movement which the decade of the thirties saw sufficiently rooted to give it the title of the modern or international style. The latter term derives its justification from the fact that the style has encircled the globe, for it appears not only in practically all the countries of Europe and the Americas but in the Near East, as in Turkey and Palestine, and also in the Far East.

The United States has been slower than Europe to explore and carry forward the possibilities inherent in the work of Sullivan and Wright. Advance has appeared chiefly in urban industrial buildings, notably the skyscraper. The evolution of skyscraper design reached an epochal point in the international competition for the Chicago Tribune Tower (1922). Though the accepted de- sign revealed a curious combination of tenacious eclectic ornament, Gothic buttresses and tracery, and the frank expression of function and material in the main shaft, the design which won the second place, submitted by Eliel Saarinen of Finland, served as a potent stimulus to the elimination of such non- functional elements. Nearly ten years later the winning artist, Raymond Hood (1881-1934), designed the almost starkly geometric Daily News Building of New York.

The skyscraper evolved on the one hand from concentration of industry into crowded urban centers, and on the other hand from the possibilities of steel construction and of such scientific in- ventions as the elevator, lighting and heating systems, and fireproof materials. From the engineering point of view, the

[a] RCA Building. Rockefeller Center , New York. Reinhard & Hof mister; Cor- bett, Harrison & McMurray; and Hood & Fouilhaux , architects. 1932. ( Seidman Photo Service)

builders have demonstrated that it is possible to reach any height desired with a steel framework which carries the load and hence needs no supporting walls. The framework can therefore be sheathed with thin slabs of stone, glass, or tile. From the esthetic standpoint, progress has been slower. Not until Gothic and other borrowed excrescences were eliminated did it become manifest that a lofty steel framework encased in a thin screening made up largely of in-

7 J 4

MODERN ART

[a] Concrete Grain Ele- vator. Centennial Flour- ing Mills Co ., Spokane, Washington. 1940. Henry George & Sons, archi- tects. ( Louis Eager ; Ew- ing Galloway)

numerable windows could, of and by itself, present to the eye so coherent a unity, so compelling a rhythm, that the total impression is one of audacious power. Highly important in attaining this unity and rhythm are the handling of fenestration, the character of the sheathing materials, and that of the necessary setbacks required by zoning laws. The RCA Building (Rockefeller Center, New York City; Fig. 71 3A), for example, shows a breath-taking upward sweep, due to the proportions of its very high, thin, rectangular volume (it is locally called “the slab”) which con- tains a definite, boldly rhythmic move- ment within its mass, owing to the set- backs. Its uniform sheathing material, limestone, and its uniformly and em- phatically vertical fenestration contrib- ute to the general impression. From the

point of view of function, the thinness of the building makes possible ample light and air to every room, because the utili- ties are concentrated in the core of the structure, which in many skyscrapers is merely an open shaft.

The McGraw-Hill Building (New York City; Fig. 7 1 2 a) , on the other hand, with its accent upon the horizontal beams of the framework, is more reposeful, and its broad ribbons of glass, which en- circle the building with but little break at the corners, produce an effect of lightness and airiness. (Contrast, in these two respects, the RCA Building.) In addition, the use of blue-green tiles in the sheathing enhances the light effect.

The Philadelphia Savings Fund Society Building (Fig. 715A) utilizes sheathing materials to produce an interplay of

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

7i5

[a] Philadelphia Sav- ings Fund Society Build- ing. Philadelphia. Howe and Lescaze, architects. 1931-32. (Howe and Les- caze)

texture and color. The lower stories are faced with dark-gray polished granite with aluminum-framed windows and stainless-steel lettering; above, oyster- white stone combines with gray mat brick; the lettering on the top is done in white painted metal and red neon tubes against a bright-blue ground. Here too is more variation within the basic unit of the form. The lower stories are grouped into a unit with rounding corners and large window openings in- dicating the offices of the bank, in con- trast to the main shaft, with its more uniform fenestration, housing the small offices above.

Many industrial buildings besides skyscrapers exemplify the modem style. The huge grain elevators of the Middle West are cylinders of unabashed con- crete thematically repeated and fre-

quently contrasted with equally simple rectangular units (Fig. 7 1 4A) . Many fac- tories and powerhouses are as clean-cut as the machinery that they house. Their frank use of brick, concrete, steel, glass, tile, or metals, and their simple un- adorned surfaces, stark lines, and large openings for light combine efficiency and beauty of form. Many small busi- ness blocks and shops are refreshing in their simple directness of design, in an almost geometric simplicity whose or- namentation often consists only of a sensitive interplay of color and texture of various materials. Cornices, mold- ings, projections of any kind about the windows, have largely disappeared. Sheer surfaces broken only by openings for windows profile against the sky. Again we see a reflection of a Machine Age.

[a] Karl Marx Hof. Vienna. Detail of central section. Karl Ehn, architect. ig2&-go.

MODERN ART

[b] Schocken Depart- ment Store. Stuttgart. Eric Mendelsohn , architect.

1929-

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

Nor has the American home been entirely untouched by the modern style. Some architects have made headway with a generally reluctant public, still eclectic in taste, in inducing them to build houses more in keeping with the contemporary age. Simplification seems to be the keynote, to conform to a mechanized, mass-production age and to fill the need for repose and relaxa- tion in a high-keyed era. The houses of William Lescaze (i8g6- ) in the East

and of Richard Neutra (1892- ) in

California, among many excellent ex- amples, illustrate the modern style. The Lovell House shows an asymmetrical plan and fenestration; long clean unbroken lines with an emphasis upon horizon- tality and a ribbonlike effect of con- trasting materials; instead of ornament, a dependence upon color and texture of materials for contrast and accent; many terraces and the utilization of flat roofs as spaces for outdoor living, and, as a result, a unity of interior and exterior space. Thus the house has changed from a traditional introvert to an extrovert.

A similar simplicity and other similar characteristics are seen in modern in- teriors, the problem being so to organ- ize a space that shape, proportions, and every detail of the furnishings are a part of a harmonious ensemble. Large unadorned surfaces of wall and window, unbroken lines, and materials used for their intrinsic qualities are basic ele- ments of the style. The emphasis fre- quently lies upon the horizontal and the furniture hugs the floor, accented by colorful carpets, and leaving a com- pensating spaciousness above, 1 The dec- orative quality and necessary accents result from the interplay of the colors and textures of diverse materials — wood, stucco, tile, glass, various metals, and fabrics.

1 It is interesting to contrast a Renaissance interior in which the strong accent is the elabo- rately decorated ceiling (Figs. 593A, 602 a).

In other countries of the Americas there are notable examples of the in- ternational style, for it has spread as widely in the Western Hemisphere as the neoclassical of the nineteenth cen- tury. It has not always been understood and has frequently been used super- ficially and illogically, as in some tropi- cal countries where the large openings suitable for a Northern climate have been retained without regard to pro- tection from heat and glare.

Brazil, however, is a tropical country which has not only recognized this prob- lem but has made contributions to its solution. The rise of modern architec- ture in Brazil and its challenge to Por- tuguese colonial and neoclassical was sudden. About 1930 a great building enterprise, chiefly in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paolo, came under the control of a group of young architects trained in Europe, most of them in France (Brazil has always been close to France culturally) . Within a few years the colo- nial patio urban house gave way to skyscraper apartment buildings, and the neoclassicism of civic structures to the modern style. In 1936 Le Corbusier was invited to Brazil as a consultant, but though his influence is clearly seen, the architects responsible for this transfor- mation have not merely imitated his work. On the contrary, they have real- ized that the climate of Brazil is very different from that of France and that the materials which they might have used freely, such as steel, were not avail- able in sufficient quantity. But within their own environment and in conform- ity to their own needs, they have erected buildings equal, both constructionally and esthetically, to those of any other country. Their work consists of a wide variety of buildings, chiefly domestic and civic — apartment houses and in- dividual homes, schools, hospitals, and government buildings, and places of business and of amusement.

718

MODERN ART

[a] ABI Building. Rio de Janeiro , Mar- celo and Milton Roberto , architects. 1939. (. Museum of Modern Art )

The Ministry of Education (Fig. 719A) will illustrate a government building. It is a thin, boxlike building lifted on slender pillars which afford in the passages be- neath protection against glaring sun and heavy rain and provide a wide view of surrounding areas. It is a concrete struc- ture with its narrow sides unbroken and its broad sides, which face south and north, furnishing the fenestration. The northern side, which receives the glare and heat of the tropical sun, is broken into deep boxlike compartments, identi- cal in size and shape, into which are

fitted horizontal shutters which admit the air yet protect from the heat and glare . 1 As these shutters are set each in its own compartment and adjusted ac- cording to the needs of the individual occupants, there is never any monotony in a fagade whose basic organization is rigidly regular. Instead, a wavering movement of light and dark plays over the surface, giving a vivacious lightness to the structure. On the roof are two cylindrical structures for water tanks and elevators. Materials and color play important roles in the design. The sup- porting columns and the unbroken thin sides of the building are sheathed in a local warm-gray granite; the walls of the entrance and auditorium (a struc- ture on the ground story at one end of the building and not visible in the illus- tration) are covered with blue and white tiles designed by the Brazilian painter Portinari; the shutters are blue, and the tanks on the top of the building are of blue tile. The wide use of tile is a Por- tuguese inheritance, as well as a recog- nition of a material highly suitable for a hot climate.

The ABI Building (the Brazilian Asso- ciated Press; Rio de Janeiro, Fig. 7 1 8a), is a more nearly cubical vol- ume, lifted on piers, with rectangular and cylindrical volumes and garden terraces on the roof. The building is more solid-looking than the Ministry of Education (it too is of concrete construc- tion), partly because of the greater amount of unbroken surface area and partly because of the shutters, which are vertical and stationary, forming hori- zontal ribbons of strongly accented light and dark. Behind these shutters is a corridor on which the windows of the 1 These compartments project from the framework of the structure by means of can- tilevering, on the same constructional principle as in the Bauhaus, and it is interesting to note how climatic differences required glass in the one case to admit light and shutters in the other to exclude it.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

719

[a] Ministry of Educa- tion and Health. Rio de Janeiro. Lucio Costa, Oscar Miemeyer, Alfonso Reidy, Carlos Leao, Jorge Moreira, and Ernani Vas- concelos, architects, with Le Corbusier as consult- ant. 1937-43 • ( Museum of Modern Art)

building open — a device which makes it impossible for the windows to be sub- jected to the direct rays of the sun. Notable is the dynamic use of lettering, as in the Bauhaus to break the regularity of the design.

Besides urban building, the modern style in Brazil has found expression in open areas. Here the tendency has been to build horizontally, to tie to the en- vironment, and to use white or light colors to contrast with the rich green of the tropical flora.

One characteristic field of modern architecture must receive further men- tion. This is the housing project and town planning, 1 the need for which

1 See Sigfried Giedion, Space, Time, and Archi- tecture, Harvard University Press, 1941.

arose at the conclusion of World War I and even more insistently after World War II. The objective is to provide healthful living-quarters equipped with modem conveniences at a minimum rent — an objective which entails the utmost economy of materials and con- struction and hence the elimination of nonfunctional items; and also to ar- range the parts which constitute a com- munity into a unit which has due regard both for the conduct of the community and for the most healthful and pleasant living therein. We have already seen Oud’s early answer to the housing proj- ect (Fig. 708A). Another example is the Karl Marx Hof (Vienna; Fig. 71 6a), which by its proportions, by the inter- play of angular and curvilinear motifs,

MODERN ART

720

by the accents of the projecting bal- conies and towers, by the use of poly- chromy to differentiate the parts clearly, and by its garden courts impresses us with an efficiency not devoid of esthetic content . 1

The erection of such housing projects and, perhaps even more important, the laying out of entirely new cities and the renovation and extension of old cities are found in various widely separated places of the world on an unprece- dented scale. Of new cities, Canberra , the new capital of Australia, is an ex- ample. Another is Goiania , the new in- dustrial center and capital of the inland Brazilian province of Goyaz. In Goiania , the general plan is based upon diagonals radiating from a center, with a mini- mum of traffic thoroughfares and a maximum of walks and recreation spaces, with a belt of parks surrounding the whole.

An example of modern extension of an older site is well illustrated by Tel Aviv, a suburb of Jaffa, Palestine. This site, whose development has been coincident with the recent industrial de- velopment of Palestine, provides note- worthy examples of modern planning and building with intelligent adapta- tions of modern principles to climate and function.

SUMMARY

The modern style in architecture is a response to a changing life in a chang-

1 The huge size of this housing unit can be grasped only by a study of its entire plan. It consists of 1,400 apartments of from one to six rooms and accommodates 5,000 residents. About one-fifth of its ground area is built on, the remaining four-fifths being left as open spaces. As a social unit it contains two kinder- gartens, a school, a library, clinics, a health- insurance office, a post office, and over twenty business concerns — a town in itself. There are two washhouses with hot water and ample pro- vision for the sanitary cleanliness of the entire unit.

ing world. It has spread, to a greater or less degree, to all parts of the globe and is international in scope in a world whose segments have been brought to- gether into a total whole. With the machine, technology, and industry dominant factors, the modern archi- tect, who is an artist-engineer, thinks in terms of new materials and new uses of old materials, of new functions, and of new advances in science. His break with eclecticism, both philosophically and formally, has been sharp. The de- mands made upon him are largely for civic, industrial, and domestic build- ings, in all of which we see a simple directness in terms of function and of the potentialities of materials. Buildings tend toward asymmetry in plan and toward a pleasing massing of the vol- umes which evolve from the plan. The core problem is to relate spaces, both external and internal, and to express these relationships clearly. Modern buildings open up both to admit light and air (in relation to climatic setting) and to allow the inside to flow out into the out-of-doors. As a rule they have long clean unbroken lines with em- phasis on the horizontal; flat roofs; and little or no ornament. They depend for their effect upon proportions of vol- umes, treatment of surfaces (as in fenes- tration), and color and texture of ma- terials. Though at first the modern style produced an extremely austere type, “a machine in which to live , 35 it has sof- tened somewhat without abandoning its position as evidence of new directions in a new world.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barr, Alfred H., ed., Modern Works of Art , Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1934

Bayer, Herbert, Gropius, Walter, and Gropius, Ise, eds., Bauhaus, 1919-1928, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1938

TWENTIETH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE

721

Behrendt, Walter C., Modern Building , Harcourt, Brace, 1937

Born, Esther, The Mew Architecture in Mexico, William Morrow, 1937

Brownell, Baker, and Wright, Frank L., Archi- tecture and Modern Life, Harper, 1937 Cahill, Holger, and Barr, Alfred H., eds., Art in America in Modern Times, Reynal and Hitchcock, 1934.

Cheney, Sheldon W., The Mew World Architecture, Tudor, 1935 ^

Ford, James, and Ford, Katherine M., The Modern House in America, Architectural Book Publishing Company, 1940 Geddes, Norman B., Horizons, Little, Brown, 1932 Giedion, Siegfried, Space, Time and Architecture, Harvard University Press, 1941 Goodwin, Philip L., Brazil Builds , Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1943 Gropius, Walter, The Mew Architecture and the Bauhaus, tr. byP. Morton Shand, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1937 Hitchcock, Henry R., Modem Architecture, Payson & Clarke, 1929 — , and Johnson, Philip, The Inter-

national Style: Architecture since 192s, Norton, 1932

Le Corbusier (pseud.), Jeanneret, Charles E., Towards a Mew Architecture, tr. by Frederick Etchells, Payson & Clarke, 1927 Leyson, B. W., Plastics in the World of Tomorrow, Dutton, 1944

Modern Architecture in England, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1937

Mumford, Lewis, The Culture of Cities, Harcourt, Brace, 1938

Technics and Civilization, Harcourt,

Brace, 1934

Mew Horizons in American Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1936

Park, Edwin A., Mew Backgrounds for a Mew Age, Harcourt, Brace, 1927

Pevsner, Nikolaus, Pioneers of the Modern Move- ment, Stokes, 1937

— — - An Outline of European Architecture,

Penguin Books, 1942

Richards, James M., An Introduction to Modern Architecture, Penguin Books, 1940

Roth, Alfred, ed., La nouvelle architecture, Zurich, J940

What Is Modem Architecture?, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1942

Woltersdorf, Arthur, Living Architecture, Kroch,

193°

Wright, Frank L., An Organic Architecture, Trans- atlantic, 1939

Modern Architecture, Princeton Uni-

versity Press, 1931

Frank Lloyd Wright on Architecture, ed. by

Frederick Gutheim, Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 194,1

— An Autobiography, rev. ed., Duell,

Sloan & Pearce, 1943

When Democracy Builds, University

of Chicago Press, 1945

— — “Architecture and Life in the

U.S.S.R.,” Architectural Record, Vol. 82, October 1937

44

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

European Painting

ALTHOUGH architecture has l\ drawn sculpture into the circle of its spirit and objectives, painting today is artificially segregated and, ex- cept for a relatively small number of murals, still consists largely of panels for exhibitions or dealers. It is prob-

ably true that in proportion as the artist is excluded from functioning normally in the social and economic system, he is thrown into subjectivism, theory, and pure research. A hopeful sign, however, lies in the fact that not a few painters of first rank are putting their talents to work in other fields — in stage settings for the ballet, for ex- ample, in book illustration, and in many of the industrial arts — and that archi- tects, sculptors, and painters are draw- ing closer together in the study of formal problems and in the co-ordina- tion of their arts.

Paris, cosmopolitan and tolerant, stimulating to adventure and experi- mentation, has been and until the out- break of World War II still was the art center of the world, and its influence has penetrated far and wide. In the late nineteenth century, even before the impressionist battle was won in the show of 1886 and impressionism had be- come one more episode in the accumu- lating French tradition, several painters were striking out along new paths in order to recapture, as Renoir had al- ready done, those qualities in the “old masters” 1 which the impressionists, too intent upon momentary realistic effects of light and air, had lost: solidity, struc- ture, organization, These painters inves- tigated the possibilities of art expression in various directions. The situation is not unlike that in architecture, where forward movements were carried out by individuals working in isolation. Of the group loosely called postimpressionists, four men proved so influential that they are usually considered the bases of modern painting. These are Seurat, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Gauguin. Though all were grounded in impres- sionism, all early evolved out of that style into various modes, each in his individual way. Seurat has already been discussed (Chapter 42).

Paul Cezanne (1839-1906) began painting in the limited color and thick pigment of Courbet and with the ba- roque compositions of Tintoretto, Ru- bens, and Delacroix. After he had made acquaintance with the impres- sionists his palette broadened and lightened, and though he was drawn

1 It is illuminating to note how many of these painters were largely self-educated, primarily in the Louvre.

into the color theories of this group, because of his long-continued studies of the “old masters” in the Louvre, he soon felt the weakness of the impres- sionists. “I want to make impression- ism,” he said, “something solid and permanent like the old masters.” Thor- oughly trained in the latter — “I al- ways keep one foot in the Louvre,” he said — especially by his study of Tinto- retto and Poussin, who had so magnifi- cently conquered the problem of space organization, he sought not to copy but to create equally compelling space rela- tionships by new uses of the old means, line, light, color — an inescapable re- sult of his own extraordinary vision. Thus he became an explorer of the painter’s means of expression: line, the effect of every kind of line direction — horizontal, vertical, diagonal, curved — and the effect of line as related to line; color, the intrinsic quality of each color and the minutest detail of color rela- tion. Through the recession of cool hues and the advance of warm hues he con- trolled volume and depth. Having ob- served that the point of saturation or highest intensity of color produces the greatest fullness of form, he painted apples, for example, in one hue only — - say green — by a meticulous exactitude of value and intensity of green, so that in solidity, volume, and place in space they possess a supranatural reality. Thus he attained solidity and structure by the control of color alone 2 in place of the more usual method of light and shade; and while he made nature both his starting-point and his goal, his ob- jective was not verisimilitude but the creation of that essential reality which is more real than a reproduction of it.

But it was not only the construction of individual forms — trees, mountains,

2 See Roger E. Fry* Transformations, Coward- McCann, 1927, “Plastic Color.” For a detailed analysis of a Cezanne still life, see Munro, Great Pictures of Europe , pp. 226-29.

[a] Cezanne. Mont Sainte-Victoire. Private Collection.

apples, people — that engaged C6- zanne, but also their organization in space. For “he saw in objective nature a chaos of disorganized movement and he set himself the task of putting it in order.” 1 Every painting of Cezanne re- veals an exploration of some problem connected with putting nature in or- der 2 ,- and for this purpose alone the subject matter was irrelevant — trees, landscapes, nudes, still life, portraits. Forms, their mass and solidity, their place in deep space in relation to other forms expressed according to his own visualization and method of using color

1 W. H. Wright, Modem Painting, Its Tendency and Meaning, Dodd, Mead, 1915, p. 147.

2 See the article by E. L. Johnson, “Cezanne’s Country,” The Arts, April, 1930, in which photographs and Cezanne’s painting of the same subject are juxtaposed; and Erie Loran, Ce- zanne’s Composition, University of California Press, 1943 -

— to get upon the canvas his percep- tion of these forms constituted his objective. As he worked over them, gradually everything inessential faded away so that the form was reduced to something nearly if not quite geometric. “Everything in nature adheres to the cone, the cylinder, and the cube.” In this statement Cezanne was simply car- rying but one step further — that is, into abstraction and geometry — what Giotto had already done, though his means were entirely different. Giotto was working away from a decadent ab- stractionism in the direction of a new naturalism; Cezanne, from a decadent naturalism into a new abstractionism; and they meet at the same stage of the evolution. As for subject matter, the fifteenth-century innovators from Giotto to Michelangelo experimented on Ma- donnas, biographies of the saints, or

[a] Cezanne. The Card-Players. 1892. Stephen C. Clark Collection , New fork City . (. Museum of Modern Art )

Greek mythological scenes, because his means were simple; Cezanne’s world their patrons commissioned these. The was broad and intricate and his means nineteenth- and twentieth-century in- were complex.

novators experimented on nudes and What was of value in impressionism still life because there were no patrons (color) Cezanne combined with what

to hand out commissions. When a was of value in the whole Renaissance

painter is thus left entirely “free,” he tradition (solidity, structure, organiza-

is most likely to concentrate upon the tion in space) and then proceeded to

problems peculiarly his own — form reconstruct the fusion according to his

and formal relations. Had Cezanne own sensitive vision and his own use of

lived in Florence in the fourteenth cen- color. In the Mont Sainle-Victoire (Fig.

tury, he would probably have painted 724A), having stated clearly the plane of

scenes from the life of Saint Francis or the canvas by the tree and the deco-

the Virgin Mary or Christ. Were Giotto rative branches, he carves out a space

living in twentieth-century France, he upon whose basic horizontal plane he

would probably be painting nudes, sets each building, tree, and mountain,

apples, and landscapes. Giotto’s range simply constructed as geometric units,

of experience was relatively narrow and each in its own place in space. Here

we feel “Poussin made over according to nature, 55 with a geometric simplicity that renders each object more real and solid than in visual reality. In The Card- Players (Fig. 725 a), the figures partake of the quiet monumentality of stone sculpture, solid figures set convincingly in space (in relation to the table), each figure and each detail playing its part as inevitably as do the blocks of stone in a stone structure. In the Large Com- position with Nude Figures (Philadelphia Museum), the, figures are an inextri- cable part of the landscape like perfectly integrated architecture and sculpture; they unite with the trees to form the dominating arch, and carry the eye across the middle distance to unite the foreground and the background. These figures might as well have been bushes or rocks; the human figure, however, affords a more plastic means for carry- ing out the objective of the painter — solid organization in deep space.

Probably Cezanne was his own most discerning critic when he said that he was the primitive of the way he had opened. The highest accomplishments of this slow plodding painter have the power, the vitality, and the monumen- tality of great primitive art. His con- tribution was partly a rediscovery, at a critical time, of the fundamentals of great art, and partly the result of his prolonged independent studies over a period of thirty years, which revealed a complex relativity in color compa- rable, as W. H. Wright points out, to the delicate nuances and overtones in music. The discovery was a complex in- strument capable of successful use only in the hands of a great master. His casual remarks have been transformed into dogmatic pronouncements by his followers. But as yet no one of his stature has appeared to carry on the “way he opened. 55 It may be well to remember that between Giotto and Masaccio lay a century. In Cezanne's work, as in the

work of other innovators who were at- tacking technical problems in the visual arts — - Giotto, Masaccio, Uccello, Piero della Francesca, Rembrandt, Constable, Courbet, Manet — a sheer vitality re- sults from a consuming effort. And be- cause these men were artists as well as scientists, out of the mass of their efforts, necessarily uneven, arose indisputable masterpieces.

Van Gogh and Gauguin also moved away from the objective realism of im- pressionism in the direction of a subjec- tive, spontaneous expression, in which form was the objectification of emo- tional reaction to actuality and imag- ination and often had little to do with visual perception. Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890) was a Hollander who, after tragic experiences, both physical and spiritual, in Belgium and England, found in the warmth, sunshine, and comparative peace of Provence an out- let in pigment for his emotional in- tensity. Almost any painting by Van Gogh proclaims its medium not only in the intensity of the color but also in the vibrating texture created by pigment manipulation. Now a thickly loaded brush moves vehemently back and forth or at right angles, giving a textilelike effect; now the palette knife or a finger rubs on or smooths the pigment; now the tube squeezes dots or streaks upon the canvas. Everywhere we feel the impetuosity with which the medium is used and which might have run wild if it had not been controlled by an innate high sensibility. Color is used in its highest intensity, color area meeting color area abruptly, thus cre- ating an effect of emphatic line and silhouette — an influence of Japanese prints.

In the Berceuse ( Woman Rocking a Cradle; Fig. 72 7 a), large flat areas of complementary reds and greens, out- lined in black, contrast with a back- ground broken by dots, spirals, and flowers. Of this painting Van Gogh wrote: “In it I have ranged the reds from rose to orange, which rises through the yellows to lemon, with light and sombre greens. ... A woman in green with orange hair stands out against a background of green with pink flowers. Now these discordant sharps of crude pink, crude orange, and crude green are softened by flats of red and green. I picture to myself these same canvases between those of the sunflowers, which would thus form lamp brackets or can- delabras beside them. . . . Perhaps in the ‘Woman Rocking’ there’s an at- tempt to get all the music of the color here. . . . You must realize that if you arrange them this way, say the ‘Woman Rocking’ in the middle and the two canvases of sunflowers to right and left, it makes a sort of triptych. And then the yellow and orange tones of the head will gain more brilliance by the prox- imity of the yellow wings.” 1

In the Landscape with Cypress Trees (Tate Gallery, London), intensity of feeling pours itself forth in a vehement brushing of pigment which creates a varied surface texture that is no mean part of the emotional effect produced by the picture. This canvas is suffused with a hot yellow into which cooler hues play to offset its warmth; in the sky the brush strokes create a textile- like pattern.

In contrast to Van Gogh, Paul Gau- guin (1848-1903) presents large quiet areas of smoothish flat color, sumptu- ously rich, with suavely flowing lines. These color areas are clearly and sharply defined and often separated by dark contours 2 like the leads in leaded

1 Vincent van Gogh, Museum of Modem Art, i935» No. 40.

2 For this reason Gauguin was sometimes called a cloisonnist. Robert Rey, in his Gauguin, Dodd, Mead, 1924, calls attention to the abrupt character of the Oceanian languages, the union of words without the polish of the inflected European tongues.

[a] Van Gogh. La Berceuse r r Rocking a Cradle ). 1889. An Imtitui^f Chicago. ( Art Institute)

glass windows or the cloisons in c ] oi _ sonn6 enamels, so that the effect is frankly decorative, and depth is sug- gested rather than presented to the eye. Though Gauguin began as an im- pressionist, he soon abandoned broken color with the statement: “A meter of green is greener than a centimeter if you wish to express greenness. . . . How does that tree look to you? Green? All right, then use green, the greenest on your palette. And that shadow, a little bluish? Don’t be afraid. Paint it as blue as you can!” “Gauguin,” says Maurice Denis, “freed us from all the restraints which the idea of copying nature had placed upon us. For instance, if it was permissible to use Vermilion in painting a tree which seemed reddish . . . why not stress even to the point of deforma- tion the curve of a beautiful shoulder or conventionalize the symmetry of a bough unmoved by a breath of air? Now we understood everything in the Louvre,

the Primitives, Rubens, Veronese.” 1

Subject matter with Gauguin was im- portant — a primitive people of the tropics, living in a primitive, colorful civilization, whose sunshine, shadow, color, and mood are all expressed in a form that is definitely nonnaturalistic and filled with an atmosphere of mean- ingful calm. An almost uncanny time- less immobility permeates The Day of the God (Fig. 729A), as in a Byzantine mosaic, however far-removed its sub- ject matter may be. This is a surface of intensely rich color areas whose clearly defined shapes and edges create a linear pattern with smooth rhythms. Both sub- ject matter and mode of expression are to be explained, in part at least, by atavistic tendencies and environment. From his mother Gauguin inherited a strain of Peruvian blood, as a child he lived in Lima, and as a youth was a seaman in tropical lands. Later, in France he made sympathetic contact with medieval glass, Near Eastern tex- tiles, Japanese prints, and various primi- tive arts which were just then catching the attention of Paris. So not unnatu- rally he betook himself to live an ele- mental life in the South Sea Islands, where he painted his most characteristic works.

Painting, from Cimabue to Rubens, had evolved toward complexity of de- sign, especially design in space, and richness of palette where color melts into color until, with the impressionists, everything was dissolved into scintillat- ing light broken up into an infinite number of color spots. While Seurat and Cezanne sought structure, solidity, and organization in depth, Van Gogh and Gauguin revived fiat pattern de- sign, the use of harmonious and con- trasting areas of color and emphatic line such as one finds in Byzantine and

1 First Loan Exhibition . . . rg2g, Museum of Modern Art, 1929, p. 14, by permission of the Museum.

Muhammadan, Oriental and primitive, art. Their emotional intensity served as a corrective to the intellectual, sci- entific approach of Seurat and Ce- zanne, which could be used successfully only if held under perfect control by such sensitivity as those masters pos- sessed. Their nonnaturalistic tendencies were particularly opposed to the in- fluence of the camera, which was in- citing many painters to vie with science in producing verisimilar recordings of nature. The green horses in Gauguin find their theory and their counterpart in the green pigs of the Prodigal Son and the blue hair on the head of Christ in medieval glass.

The great diversity found in Seurat, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Gauguin is symbolic of the “many-mindedness” of modern painting and of its challenge to a new kind of seeing. Impressionism failed to be accepted as a legitimate, not to say orthodox, method of painting until people had finally caught up with the painters’ vision, as they had in the case of Courbet and the Barbizon group. Always late, “a tradition, like an old family, must constantly renew itself with, the body and soul of each new age. Otherwise the end is in sight. A tradi- tion in art simply means the heritage of qualities which deserve not only to endure but to develop. If a tradition is not also an evolution it is unworthy of the reverence which we accord to it.” 2 <c We cannot think in terms of an indefinite multiplicity of detail; our evidence can acquire its proper impor- tance only if it comes before us mar- shalled by general ideas. These ideas we inherit — they form the tradition of our civilization. Such traditional ideas are never static. They are either fading into meaningless formulae, or are gain- ing power by the new lights thrown by

2 Duncan Phillips in Leaders of French Art Today, Phillips Memorial Gallery, Washington, December, 1927-January, 1928.

[a] Gauguin. The Day of the God. 1894. Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute )

a more delicate apprehension. They are transformed by the urge of critical rea- son, by the vivid evidence of emotional experience, and by the cold certainties of scientific perception. One fact is cer- tain, you cannot keep them still. No generation can merely reproduce its an- cestors. You may preserve the life in a flux of form, or preserve the form amid an ebb of life. But you cannot per- manently enclose the same life in the same mold.” 1

Most of the painters of today are working in or developing trends in- stigated by Seurat, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Gauguin, after a thorough satura- tion in the “old masters,” which in- cludes the art of the world, with a

1 A. N. Whitehead, Science and the Modem World , Macmillan, 1925, p. 269.

particular emphasis upon the primitive and Oriental arts. The leaders of the nineteenth century posed problems, suggested solutions, and started innova- tions so striking and so profund that their influence is still directive and his- tory repeats itself: one class of followers copies outward appearances and pro- duces pastiches; another attempts to assimilate and to carry on new experi- ments with new solutions.

In a general way, most of the modern painters belong to one of two main lines of descent, with many border-line cases: Seurat- Cezanne- Picasso-the cubists; Van Gogh-Gauguin-Matisse-the fauves -the expressionists. These families are composed of intensely individual mem- bers, though they represent two fairly coherent, contrasting points of view —

[a] Rousseau. The Jungle. 1908. Mrs. Patrick C. Hill Collection. [Art Institute of Chicago)

which may be illustrated roughly, one his canvas with warm light and con-

by Matisse and the fauves and the other verted it into a decorative ‘‘luminous

by Picasso and the cubists.

tapestry” constructed of “orchestral

Before turning to the various man- tones as vibrant and indefinite as the

ifestations of these groups, let us con- troubled harmonies of Debussy.” 2 Bon-

sider individuals who illustrate, again, nard strove for beautiful surfaces rather

the “many-mindedness” of the con- than for objective realism, for poetic

temporary situation. Pierre Bonnard fantasies with which his structureless

(1867-1947) might be called a divergent figures are quite in harmony,

impressionist. For he carried the objec- Henri Rousseau, Le Douanier (1844- tive vision of impressionism into the 1910) is another isolated individual, a

realm of fantasy and infused it with a folk artist who painted because he

personal mood. 1 With a rather narrow wanted to, when he was not playing but subtle range of color he drenched the violin. His jungle scenes (Fig. 730A)

1 For this reason Bonnard and Jean Edouard 2 Duncan Phillips in Art and Understanding,

Vuillard (1867-1940) are sometimes called in- Phillips Memorial Gallery, Washington, 1929- timists. 1930, p. 62.

[a] Matisse. Still Life: Apples on a Pink Tablecloth. ig22. Chester Dale Collection , New York City. (Art Institute of Chicago)

reveal an extraordinary gift for shapes, French painting, he finally became

color, and relationships and for the or- aware of the new movements and,

ganization of unit shapes into a coherent through study in the Louvre and travel,

pattern of great esthetic power. Again, came under the influences of the color

as with Gauguin, it is flat pattern with of the East, of primitive textiles, Per-

strong linear quality. With no theory sian miniatures and pottery, medieval

to guide him, Rousseau very innocently glass, and Japanese prints. Although at

put on the canvas simply and directly one time early in his career — and

the symbols, created in his own imag- again under an influence, that of early

ination, for what he had seen objec- cubism — Matisse used sober hues, his

tively. characteristic color is as stimulating in

Returning to the two main currents, its intensity as it is in its sharp opposi-

we find that Henri Matisse (1869- ) tion ofhues, now surprising, now quietly

also started with a subjective reaction harmonious, and showing the artist’s

to the external world. Though trained inventiveness in producing rhythm

in the school of Bouguereau and the largely by color alone. While living on

Beaux Arts, and at first quite ignorant the Riviera he produced some of his

of the ferment already taking place in most characteristic work: the White

[a] Picasso. La Table, rgso. Smith Col- lege Museum of Art, Northampton , Mass. (Smith College Museum)

Plumes (Stephen C. Clark Collection), and many still lifes, odalisques, and in- teriors. It is an art which accents the surface, aims at surface enrichment by means of calligraphic line and flat color areas. Depth is often suggested by subtle changes in value, with a curious but not unpleasant combination of a two- and three-dimensional organization but with the main accent on animation of sur- face. In the Still Life: Apples on a Pink Tablecloth (Fig. 731 a), the warm-hued, rather solid foreground group, with its combination of broad quiet curves and angles, acts as a foil to the cool blues and the exciting movement of thejagged motifs above. The two parts are united

by the pitcher and by the line, the mo- tif, and the color of the vertical bands and circular disks.

Matisse belonged to a group known as les fames (the wild beasts), 1 so named in derision at the Salon d’Au- tomne of 1905. As a group, under the stimulation of the newly discovered ex- otic arts, they were motivated by a need for free expression which led them, each individually, into various paths cf free invention. Deft, spirited painters, they produced canvases with no little spontaneity and verve, now with rich surface texture, now with lively linear or boldly clashing color effects, or some- times with a limited range of hues. Their subject matter was as varied as their modes, with landscape and genre pre- dominating. To realize the revolutionary character of the work of the fauves, we should compare it with that of the con- temporary “official” academic painters of Paris — those, for example, who were working in the style of Bouguereau.

Thus the fauves carried on and expanded the trends instigated by Van Gogh and Gauguin and integrated them into the growing twentieth-century tradition. Their contribution — to repeat — consisted of the value of surface richness and emotionally exciting or subtly limited color. Of those who employed a limited palette, Rouault is unique in his use of heavy lines around each unit of the composition, within which each color area vibrates with various tones of one hue, producing much the effect of medieval glass, a craft which Rouault had pursued. In harmony with this technique, he created forms of Byzantine-like simplicity and austerity, and in them expressed a

1 Henri Matisse; Andre Derain (1880- ); Maurice de Vlaminck (1876— ); Georges Braque (1881- ); Georges Rouault (1871— ); Raoul Dufy (1877- ); Emile Othon Friesz (1879- ); Charles Dufresne (1876— 1938); Andre de Segonzac (1884- ).

[a] Picasso, Still Life: “Vive la ”. 1914.-15. Sidney Janis Collection , New York City,

(. Museum of Modern Art) Note the play upon textures, both of surface and of pattern.

and from one kind of visualization to another. Like Leonardo in somewhat similar circumstances, he seems to be motivated by curiosity and research. The great difference, however, is that strong traditions and a narrower outlook limited Leonardo; cosmopolitanism and a highly developed individualism delimit Picasso, who in the cosmopolitan world of today is probably the leading figure in the field of painting. When he finally settled in Paris in 1905, he had evolved from the sober realistic painting of Spain, through a brightening of color in an impressionistic mode, into the ‘ ‘blue period, ’ 5 in which he painted pathetic figures of his native Spain with a blue tonality. There fob

religious content. In comparison with the hearty earthiness of his contem- poraries, his feeling is that of a mystic.

The other line of descent from the post- impressionists — that from Cezanne — is found in Picasso and the cubists. Pablo Picasso (1881- ) is a Spaniard, endowed with Spanish intensity and with the fervor as well as with the forms of Spanish medieval miniatures, frescoes, and sculpture. At the same time he has thrown himself into the formal problems which were para- mount issues when he settled in Paris.

In some respects Picasso is charac- teristic of the age in his constant ex- perimentation, in his startling shifts from one kind of painting to another

MODERN ART

lowed a series of acrobats, harlequins, and other figures in which color, though subdued, vibrated subtly, as in The Woman with a Fan (W. A. Harriman Collection); and then the “rose period,” in which he constructed in pinkish hues sculptural forms obviously bearing an influence from Greek sculpture, as in the Woman with Loaves (Philadelphia Museum). The Gertrude Stein (Museum of Modern Art), with its masklike face and solidity of mass, reveals an ac- quaintance with Negro sculpture and a more definite focus upon abstract formal problems, which led Picasso to- gether with a group of associates 1 to a dissection of the figure into its essential volumes and planes, as a challenge to the structureless verisimilitude of the camera and the scintillating surfaces of the impressionists. They accomplished this at first without complete loss of representational content; and often in- cluded several aspects — a succession of points of view, such as front, profile, and back, known to the mind but not seen by the eye simultaneously. 2 Color was reduced to neutrals so as to elimi- nate any disturbing emotionalism (Fig. 732 A).

Thus arose cubism, a term used orig- inally in ridicule of Picasso and his associates. Its early phase, known as analytical cubism, was completely and coldly objective, as disciplinary as sci- ence in its investigations into form. In his Nude Descending the Stairs , Marcel

1 Other members of the group were Georges

Braque (i88i~ ), Albert Leon Gleizes

(1881- ), Jean Metzinger (1883- ),

Marcel Duchamp (1887- ), Francis Picabia

(1879- ), Fernand Leger (1881- ), and

Jhian Gris (1887-1927).

2 Simultaneity — the practice of combining various views or parts of an object into a de- sign — was not original with Picasso, but is found in Egyptian painting, in Nazca pottery, in the designs of the Northwest Indians, in African Negro and Oceanian sculpture, and in Chinese bronzes, to mention but a few of many possible examples.

Duchamp, by showing the different as- pects of an already analyzed figure as it walked down a stairway, added the fourth dimension, movement. So highly ascetic and disciplinary was cubism, however, that it was almost destined to develop into something which could give the painter more freedom for per- sonal reaction and inventiveness. This Picasso found in taking the parts into which he had separated the figure and combining them freely into composi- tions which may or may not give clues to the object represented. In this mode, known as synthetic cubism, he used brilliant color freely and boldly and seemed intent upon producing surfaces with rich textures. Probably the climax of this style is found in The Three Mu- sicians and some exquisite still lifes, such as the Green Still Life (Museum of Mod- em Art) and the Still Life: “ Vive la , . .” (Fig. 733A). What strikes us most forcibly about these still lifes is the richly tex- tured quality of the surface, in the at- tainment of which Picasso, Braque, and others had experimented with «the in- troduction into their compositions of bits of paper, cloth, playing-cards, and other materials, and with mixing sand into the pigment to secure a very rough surface in certain parts of the painting. Such compositions, known as papiers colUs or collages, provide the painter with more and more elastic mediums.

While still painting synthetic cubist pictures, Picasso made a sudden turn toward realistic Ingres-like drawings and colossal figures in a Greco-Roman style, such as the Woman in White (Mu- seum of Modern Art). After another sudden change, about 1925 he began to produce highly simplified contorted figures, now in one mode, now in an- other — evidence of his extraordinary versatility. Many of these paintings are organized with heavy swirling lines and rich color. Yet when Picasso painted his Guernica (1 937), he used white, black,

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

and gray only, colors in tune with the grim horror of the destruction of this town in the Spanish Civil War. Also, appropriately for the stark subject mat- ter, he composed with largely angular thematic material, areas with sharp darting angles, and so related them in violent oppositions of line, value, and shape that the panel presents the paradoxical effect of orderly confu- sion.

Though most of the painters in the cubist movement, like Picasso, have evolved from its hard disciplinary requirements, Georges Braque has re- tained his personal version of construct- ing fragments, both representational and nonrepresentational, into a flat pat- tern, on the theory that a painting is a flat surface and should remain a flat surface, animated by line, color, and texture. He works within a narrow range of restrained but subtly related color areas, with strong reliance upon related and contrasted textures. “The aim of painting,” says Braque, “. . . is not to reconstruct an anecdotic fact, but to constitute a pictorial fact. . . . We must not imitate what we want to create. The aspect of things is not to be imitated, for the aspect of things is the result of them.” 1

Fernand Leger has continued to paint synthetic cubist pictures strongly in con- trast to the delicately sensitive paintings of Braque. Lager’s paintings have the sharp, hard precision of the machine. Even his figures have the same quality, as is seen in the Three Women (Museum of Modern Art) . In fact, he may take parts of a factory and parts of its ma- chinery as thematic material, and use a restricted color scheme such as reds, blacks, and grays. Or he may use a brilliant palette, as in The City (Fig.

1 See Maurice Raynal, Modern French Painters ,

Brentano’s, 1928, pp. 51-52, for this and other excerpts from the writings and sayings of many modern painters.

735

66 1 a), in which all the stress of a me- tropolis is suggested by strong color, violent contrasts, and sharp interplay of line and color areas.

Abstraction in painting carried to its logical conclusion becomes purely nonobjective; that is, it has no repre- sentational content and hence no asso- ciational appeal. Its aim is to stimulate emotional reactions to formal elements only: to relationships of line, light and dark, color, texture, space. Form itself, pure form, is the subject matter.

Nonobjectivity appeared, contemporary with cubism, in the paintings of the Russian Wassily Kandinsky ( 1866-1944), who, with a thorough understanding of the psychological effect of each element, and of the interrelationship of elements, composed paintings devoid of representational content which convey, like music, certain moods or “soul states”. Completely nonobjective painting is found also in the work of the Russians Kasimir Malevich (1878— 1935 ) and Alexander Rodchenko (1891- ), and of the neoplasticists of the Netherlands, of whom Piet Cornelis Mondrian (1872-1944) is perhaps the best known. Composition in White, Black and Red is organized into so perfect an asymmetrical balance of lines, areas, and colors that no change, even infinitesimal, is possible without disturbing that balance. The colors used are black, white, and a small amount of red; and the lines are a balance of verticals and horizontals, with no curve and no diagonal.

This art, which is concerned with one thing, form, provides a least common denominator for all the arts and has influenced them widely. This influence appears in the simple directness and the frequent asymmetry noticeable in the plans, masses, and surfaces of modern

2 Kandinsky’s On the Spiritual in Art, Solomon R, Guggenheim Foundation, 1946, is an excellent exposition of abstract and nonobjective art by an artist who practiced it.

architecture; in posters, advertising, book design, and other industrial arts.

For many people, abstract and non- objective art is not easy to understand and enjoy. “It is not possible to explain the pleasure or satisfaction we derive from the formal elements in art until we have laid bare the physiology of in- stinctive responses, explained the part played by pattern in the stimulation of visual acuteness, the relation of rhythm to bodily and perhaps (as the Chinese would have us believe) to cos- mic movements, the unconscious appeal of concrete and abstract symbolism, the emotive effect of pure colours and tones, and so on .” 1

Protest against cubism and nonob- jective art as something static and over- intellectual arose in several quarters, notably in Italy and Germany. In Italy, the futurists sought a more elas- tic type of expression, one that would

1 Herbert Read, Art Now , Harcourt, Brace, 1937, P- 48.

[a] Mondrian. Com- position in White, Black, and Red. 1336. Museum of Modem Art, New Tork City. [Museum of Modern Art )

involve movement, space, and time, not only for itself alone but as an ex- pression of life rhythms — a concept that was both scientific and mystical . 2 Severini’s Au Bal Tabarin is neither an analysis of form into its inherent re- lated elements nor a synthesis of such elements, but rather a synthesis of frag- ments of reality so combined as to con- vey an impression of the movement of a dancer. Thus, though not nonobjec- tive, it is closer in aim to Kandinsky than to the cubists.

In Germany too there was less con- centration than with the French on purely formal problems. German ex- pressionism was a manifestation of sub- jective feeling toward objective reality or the world of imagination. The more Germanic among the Germans had

2 Giacomo Balia (1871 - ), Luigi Russolo

(1885- ), Umberto Boccioni (1882-1916),

and Gino Severini (1883- ) are important

in the group. The poet Marinetti was a spokes- man. Their name implies scorn for the past.

been averse to impressionism, as some- thing unsuited to the truculent North- ern temperament which led them to bold, vigorous brush work, to strong lines, contrasting values, and intense color. Thus they produced splendid, almost savagely powerful canvases, con- cisely organized and particularly expres- sive of intense human feeling. German expressionism 1 was an art in direct line of descent from earlier German painting and engraving, especially in its bold intense color and its linealism, its emphasis on subject matter, and its frequent transcendental overtones. Its rise was contemporary with that of the

1 Important in the entire movement were the Scandinavian Edvard Munch (1863-1944), Ernst Ludwig Kirchner (1880-1938), Max Pechstein ( 1 88 x - ) , Emil Nolde (1867- ) , the Russian Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944), the Swiss Paul Klee (1879-1940), the Austro- Czech Oskar Kokoschka (1886- ), Karl

Hofer (1878- ), and Max Beckmann

(1884- ). Rouault, though French, is close

to this group.

fauves in Paris; it passed through sev- eral phases, though some of its painters worked independently of the group. Emil Nolde is perhaps the most sensi- tive of the German expressionists. Much of his work is somber in tone and mys- tical in feeling. Kokoschka, on the other hand, finds an outlet for his intensely emotional nature in loading the canvas with areas of brilliant color brushed on with bold strokes, Beckmann is .dramati- cally decorative, with his intense colors, heavy lines, and strong opposition of lines and color areas (Fig. 738A) ... His canvases are surcharged with a bold and almost savage energy.

In the 1920s occurred a revival of realism in Germany, known as die neue Sachlichkeit (the new objectivity). The group included Max Beckmann, who had earlier figured among the expressionists, Otto Dix (1891- ), and George Grosz (1893- ). Grosz, in particular, has used his great ability toward social ends, and is as powerful

[a] Beckmann. Departure. Triptych . 1937. Museum of Modern Art , New Tork City. ( Museum of Modern Art)

in satire as Goya or Daumier — “everywhere his sensitive technique has its fine surgical beauty,” 1

About the same time there started in Switzerland, and spread to Germany, France, and elsewhere, a movement known as dadaism, 2 which grew out of a contempt for contemporary society and out of the bitter disillusionments which followed World War I. It also marked another trend away from the reasoned, formal aim and the cool, dis- ciplinary requirements of cubism, and toward a spontaneous, intuitive expres- sion of the whimsical, fantastic, humor- ous, sardonic, or absurd. Though Arp has produced extremely austere, non-

1 Herbert Read, op. tit., p. 93.

2 Important members in the group were the

French Hans Arp (1888- ), the German

Max Ernst (1891- ) , and the American Man

Ray (1890- ). Dadaism lasted from about

1916 to 1922.

objective, reliefiike paintings based on an interplay of geometric, frequently amoeboid shapes, probably the most characteristic work of the group were the collages of Arp and Ernst.

It was but one step further from the painting of the dadaists to the subcon- scious and dream world of the surreal- ists, 3 who sought in these areas of life the actual reality or the superreality. In 1924 the poet Andrd Breton (note that many of these twentieth-century move- ments have a literary counterpart) formulated their philosophy in his Mani- fests du surrealisme. The cold dry tool of logic on the one hand, says Breton, and

3 Important surrealist painters include the dadaists Arp and Ernst; the Spaniards Salvador Dali (1904- ) and Joan Miro (1893- );

the Italian Giorgio de Chirico (1888- ); the

Russian Marc Chagall (1887-- ) ; the French

Andre Masson (1896- ) and Yves Tanguy

(1900- ); the Chilean Roberto Matta

Echaurren (1911- ).

[a] Dali. The Persistence of Memory. 1931. Museum of Modern Art, New York City. (. Museum of Modern Art) Note the effective contrast in the highly realistic rendering of highly unrealistic subject matter.

the magic of the subconscious and the dream world (an influence from Freud) on the other — to resolve these “two seemingly contradictory states, dream and reality, into a sort of absolute real- ity, a surrealitef 1 was the aim of the surrealists. And this motivation domi- nates their paintings, in which they bring together into a composition frag- ments of that “reality” in much the same way that seemingly unrelated frag- ments of life combine in the vague world of dreams. While subject matter is im- portant, “with them it was not objects, but the images they provoke in the in- dividual, that are the material of art .” 2

1 Quoted in J. J. Sweeney, Plastic Redirections in noth Century Painting , University of Chicago Press, 1934, p. 87.

2 Ibid.

Surrealist paintings are usually puzzling and surprising, if not fantastically shocking. People who like to see pictures repeat with more or less exactitude what they see in their everyday lives find it difficult to grasp the highly imaginative quality in such painting, or let themselves go in a world of fantasy. They can find here, nevertheless, paint- ing-as-painting of a high order. In Dali’s The Persistence of Memory (Fig. 739A), for example, meticulous brush work pro- duces a hard surface of jewel-like qual- ity that is a, joy in itself. Spontaneous, irrational evocations from the subcon- scious have been organized into an ar- resting form. In a darkly foreboding foreground, blue-faced watches are draped over an embryonic figure, a block, and a tree, which help carry the

eye into the deep space of a sunlit dis- tance with its cool blues relieved v 1by blue-greens and yellow.

Joan Miro, by contrast, does not share the dark brooding of Dali, perhaps be- cause of his Catalan heritage with its vivacious spirit and gay color. Like other painters of fantasy, he was stoutly antagonistic to the logical, intellectual abstractions of the formalists: “I am attaching more and more importance to the subject matter of my work. To me it seems vital that a rich and robust theme should be present to give the spectator an immediate blow between the eyes before a second thought can interpose. In this way poetry pictorially expressed speaks its own language.” 1 In his early Harlequin's Festival (Albright Gallery, Buifalo) shapes suggested by people, animals, and objects associated with a carnival are painted in bright, gay color, chiefly in the primaries, black, and white, against a neutral ground, and are so distributed that they carry the eye with the vivacious movement of a festival. Intensive work in making collages in various mediums as a study in shapes and textures led Miro to a greater simplification of shapes, with stress on the curved line and amoeboid shapes which produce a floating qual- ity. His color became deep and muted and his rhythms broader. In the Com- position (Fig. 741 a), against a deeply brooding ground composed of four areas of rather dark, closely related reds, blues, and greens, black shapes float, some linear, some solid areas with dra- matic touches of white and vermilion. These elements give the panel, which is large, a highly decorative quality. Several figures are recognizable, such as a dog and an ox. But as Miro works automatically, according to his biog- raphers, and as his brush moves over the surface without the direction of the

1 Quoted by J. J. Sweeney, Joan Miro, Museum of Modem Art, 1941, p. 13.

conscious mind — as in automatic writ- ing or doodling at the telephone — he himself cannot always explain the meaning of his pictures. They are simply a spontaneous expression of the little-understood, submerged subcon- scious life.

Perhaps the freest, most intuitive ex- pression of pure fantasy is found in the work of the Swiss Paul Klee (1879- 1940), who, like the German expres- sionists, is the heir to Gothic linealism as well as Gothic fantasy. But in his contempt for all illusionistic art, he turned to that of children and primitive peoples, and sought to put upon the canvas or paper, in terms of line, color, and texture, a graph, as it were, of his emotional reactions to his material. His paintings take one who is possessed of imagination into a world of vivid fan- tasy as well as into the enjoyment of a surface sensitively organized. 2

Though they are charged with being psychologists or poets rather than paint- ers, one can hardly avoid finding in the work of the best surrealists high esthetic quality; that is, organic structure. How- ever, if the observer does not learn to see organic structure in the work of the “old masters,” where representational content is the chief cause of his satis- faction, he cannot be blamed for not seeing it when it lies naked before his eyes in abstract, nonobjective, and sur- realist art. Whether consciously or sub- consciously, these painters show a com- mand over the elements of the painter — line, light and dark, color, texture, and space — each according to his per- sonal bent, and a technical ability to translate mental images, conscious and subconscious, into skillfully organized designs in which details are frequently painted realistically.

2 See Herbert Read, op. cit., p. 141, for a trans- lation of “Going for a walk with a line,” a de- scription by Klee of the way his imagination works.

[a] Miro. Composition, 1933. Museum of Modern Art, New York. (Museum of Modern Art)

This avant-garde of the twentieth century is too numerous and too influ- ential to be cast aside lightly. Nor can its members be pigeonholed neatly into the numerous “isms” of the century. In their adventurous search for new forms and new meanings they reach out now in one direction, now in another. One over-all statement can be made; namely, that they have all in varying degrees turned from the perceptual to the con- ceptual approach to actuality, to sub- jective reaction, and to the world of the imagination and the subconscious, a trend which is in direct opposition to the main trend of European painting

from Giotto to impressionism. It may well be that in this kind of painting we are witnessing the beginning of a new cycle, with, a new kind of visualization as revolutionary as the Byzantine was compared to the Greco-Roman; or as Giotto’s was compared to the Byzan- tine.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Apollinaire, Guillaume, The Cubist Painters;

. Aesthetic Meditations, 1913, tr. by Lionel Abel, Wittenborn, 1944

Art in Our Time, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1939

MODERN ART

Art in Progress, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1944

Barnes, Albert C., The Art in Painting, 3d ed. rev., Harcourt, Brace, 1937

and De Mazia, Violette, The

Art of Cezanne, Harcourt, Brace, 1939

and De Mazia, Violette, The Art

of Henri Matisse, Scribner, 1933 Barr, Alfred H., Jr., ed., Fantastic Art, Dada, Sur- realism, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1936

- — — — - — ed.. Modern Works of Art, Museum

of Modern Art, New York City, c. 1934 Picasso: Fifty Tears of His Art, Mu- seum of Modern Art, New York City, 1946

ed., Picasso; Forty Tears of His Art, 2d

ed. rev., Museum of Modem Art, New York City, c. 1939

ed., Vincent van Gogh, Museum of

Modern Art, New York City, c. 1935 Bell, Clive, Since Cezanne, Harcourt, Brace, 1922 Beskin, Osip, The Place of Art in the Soviet Union, American Russian Institute, 1936 Brinton, Christian, The Art of Soviet Russia, fore- word by Fiske Kimball, American Russian Institute, 1936

Cassou, Jean, Picasso, tr. by Mary Chamot, Hyperion Press, 1940

Chen, Jack, Soviet Art and Artists, Transatlantic, 1945

Cheney, Sheldon W., A Primer of Modem Art, rev. ed., Tudor, 1939

■— — — — - — - — The Story of Modem Art, Viking, 1941

Cubism and Abstract Art, Museum of Modem Art, New Y ork City, 1936

Dali, Salvador, Conquest of the Irrational, Julien Levy, 1935 ,

Eddy, Arthur J., Cubists and Post-Impressionism, McClurg, 1919

Einstein, Carl, Die Kunst des so. Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1926

Georges Braque, Paris, 1 934

First Loan Exhibition, New Tork, November, iggg; Cezanne, Gauguin, Seurat, Van Gogh, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1929 Fry, Roger E., C&zanne: A Study of His Develop- ment, Macmillan, 1927

ed., Henri Matisse, Weyhe, 1930

Transformations, Brentano’s, 1927

Gauguin, Paul, Noa-Noa, tr. by O. F. Theis, Greenberg, 1927

German Painting and, Sculpture, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1931 Gogh, Vincent van, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh to His Brother, i 8 ys-i 886 , 3 vols., Houghton Mifflin, 1927-29 Goldwater, Robert J., Primitivism in Modem Painting, Harper, 1938

G6mez de la Sema, Ramon, Completa e veridica

istoria di Picasso e del cubismo, Torino, 1944

Gordon, Jan, Modem French Painters, rev. ed., London, 1940

Guggenheim, Peggy, ed., Art of This Century, Art of This Century, 1942

Janis, Sidney, Abstract & Surrealist Art in America , Reynal and Hitchcock, 1944 Katz, Alexander R., Prelude to a New Art for an Old Religion, L. M. Stein, 1945 Levy, Julien, Surrealism, Black Sun Press, 1936 Loran, Erie, Cezanne’s Composition, University of California Press, 1943 Loukomski, George K., History of Modern Russian Painting, Hutchinson, 1945 Mackenzie, Helen F., Understanding Picasso, University of Chicago Press, 1940 Martin, J. L., Nicholson, Ben, and Gabo, N., eds., Circle: International Survey of Con- structive Art, London, 1937 Meier-Graefe, Julius, Vincent van Gogh, tr. by John Holroyd-Reece, Blue Ribbon Books,

1936

Merin, Peter (Thoene, Peter, pseud.), Modern German Art, tr. by Charles Fullman, Penguin Books, 1938

Miliukov, Paul, Outlines of Russian Culture, ed. by Michael Karpovich, tr. by Valentine Ughet and Eleanor Davis, 3 pts.; Part III, “Architecture, Painting, and Music,” Uni* versity of Pennsylvania Press, 1942 Moholy-Nagy, Ldszlo, The New Vision, Norton,

1938

The New Vision and Abstract of an

Artist, 3d ed. rev., Wittenborn, 1946 Mondrian, Piet, Plastic Art and Pure Plastic Art, Wittenborn, 1945

Nierendorf, Karl, ed., Paul Klee: Paintings, Water- colors, igig to iggg, intro, by James J. Sweeney, Oxford University Press, 1941 Novotny, Fritz, Cizanne, Phaidon ed., Oxford University Press, 1937

Paalen, Wolfgang, R., Form and Sense, Witten- born, 1945

Pach, Walter, The Masters of Modern Art, Huebsch, 1924

Phillips, Duncan and others, Art and Understand- ing, Phillips Memorial Gallery, Washing- ton, D.G., 1929-30

Raynal, Maurice, Modern French Painters, tr. by Ralph Roeder, Brentano’s, 1928 Read, Herbert E., Art Now, rev. ed., Harcourt, Brace, 1937

— ed., Surrealism, Harcourt, Brace,

1937

Unit 1 — The Modern Movement in

English Architecture, Painting, and Sculpture , Toronto, 1934

Rebay, Hilla, Fourth Catalogue of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Collection of Non-Objective Paint-

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

ing, Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York City, 1939

— — ed., In Memory of Wassily Kandinsky,

Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York City, 1945

ed., Kandinsky, Solomon R.

Guggenheim Foundation, New York City, c. 1945

Rey, Robert, Gauguin , tr. by F. G. de Sumichrast, Dodd, Mead, 1924

Rutter, Frank V. P., Evolution in Modern Art, rev. ed., London, 1932

Soby, James T., The Early Chirico, Dodd, Mead, 1941

• — Georges Rouault, Museum of

Modern Art, New York City, 1945 Soviet Painting ; 32 Reproductions of Paintings by Soviet Masters , Moscow and Leningrad, 1939 Sweeney, James J., Joan Miro, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, c. 1941

— — Plastic Redirections in 20th Century

Painting, University of Chicago Press, 1934 Uhde, Wilhelm, Henri Rousseau, Berlin, 1923 — — — - — — — Picasso and the French Tradition, tr.

by F. M. Loving, Weyhe, c. 1929 ■ — — Vincent van Gogh, Phaidon ed.,

Oxford University Press, 1936 Venturi, Lionello, Georges Rouault, Weyhe, 1940

Marc Chagall, Pierre Matisse

Editions, 1945

Vollard, Ambroise, Paul Cizanne, His Life and Art, tr. by Harold L. Van Dorcn, Crown, 1937

Wheeler, Monroe, 20th Century Portraits, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, c. 1942 Wilenski, Reginald H., Modern French Painters, 2d ed., London, 1944

The Modern Movement in Art, rev.

ed., Toronto, 1945

Wright, Willard H., Modern Painting, Its Tendency and Meaning, Dodd, Mead, 1915 Zervos, Christian, Histoire de Part contemporain, Paris, 1938

Painting in the United States

Revolutionary French painting has had an enormous and widespread influence. Hardly a nation in Europe or the Americas has been un- touched. In the nineteenth century, the United States looked to Paris in art matters, as did the Middle, Central, and South American nations after they had severed political ties with Spain

743

and Portugal. Officially, the advanced French painting broke upon the Ameri- can public at the Armory Show in 1913. Before this, however, some painters, quietly but wholeheartedly, had ab- sorbed lessons learned from the French and had rallied to the objective ex- pressed by Arthur B. Davies, “Let us be emancipated.” The nineteenth cen- tury “solitaries” had begun this eman- cipation from Europeanism, just as Sullivan and Wright had that from eclecticism in architecture. The Ten and The Eight carried on and brought painting out of stuffy studios, rooting it in American soil, and giving it formal quality.

An over-all glance at the United States from the time of the Armory Show to the present may prove helpful in attempting to get a picture of paint- ing for those three decades. In that period occurred World War I; the boom of the 20’s, the heyday of the dealer who strove to build up collections of Euro- pean art; the Great Depression; World War II; and the shrinking of the world to so small a size that every nation is neighbor to every other. The youthful nation of the United States is still un- formed. It is an unassimilated complex of diverse nationalities from Europe, Africa, the Near East and the Far East, each with its own traditions and ide- ologies, which have not as yet coalesced to form coherent traditions. This em- bryonic culture, in addition to its own restless ferment, is suddenly brought into contact with exotic cultures, many of them the source of certain of its in- gredients of which it has hitherto been unaware. Such are the African; the for- gotten or unknown American Indian; and the Far Eastern with the lofty ac- complishments of its long past, formerly either unknown or disregarded by the Western world. In addition, many of our painters are foreign-born and a number of eminent European artists

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744

have found refuge here from the tyran- nies of Europe and are participating creatively and educationally in art ac- tivities. Furthermore, the place of the painter in our energetic, mechanistic life is uncertain. He is largely segre- gated, and his paintings are looked upon merely as luxuries by an audience that still holds the nineteenth-century concept of a painting as an item for a museum or private collection — some- thing quite foreign and inessential to everyday man. We may ask, Why has painting survived? It is chiefly because of the faith and the courage of the painter in the face of isolation and eco- nomic distress.

Notwithstanding this complex, shift- ing, discouraging background, an as- tonishing amount of competent painting has been produced, no small part of it undoubtedly of lasting quality. In gen- eral it tends to be highly individualistic, with no few dominating personalities, as in France; to be an experimental growth, motivated by a desire to attain an authentic American expression. It is experimenting in medium, subject matter, and form, and as yet reveals no consistent trends.

The Armory Show, to return to 1913, probably caused the greatest art furor the United States has ever experienced, and was followed by the formation of the Society of Independent Artists in 1917, also sponsored by The Eight. The result? The public laughed and scorned. So did many of the artists. For others, however, the show forcibly underscored the formal qualities of painting which had been the chief concern of the French painters; opened their eyes to new uses of color and to abstract painting; vital- ized and broadened the painter’s view- point by guiding him to exotic arts as well as to a more intensive study of the “old masters,” from which he had been kept by the all-too-frequently heard prejudice that a study of these would

destroy his originality. Unfortunately, it stimulated a considerable number, exhilarated by their new discoveries, to paint in this exciting French style. The result was too often superficial copying devoid of real understanding — a prac- tice which is still going on.

From 1913, American painting has followed, in a general way, the trends of late nineteenth- and twentieth-cen- tury painting in France, and, to a lesser degree, that of Germany. The highly individual character of the painters, however, militates against classifying them except into loosely connected groups, with many individuals unclas- sifiable.

One small group has continued in the tradition of nineteenth-century aca- demic painting; a much larger group, in that of impressionism. 1 Another large and more independent group consists of figure, portrait, and genre painters who have kept partly within traditional lines somewhat modified by the influ- ence of Renoir and the postimpression- ists in the direction of greater insistence on structure, more brilliant color, and freer brushwork. Theirs is objective painting of a high order, sometimes imbued with social implications. 2 Eu- gene Speicher may be taken to illus- trate the group. In his paintings we discern, above a command over the figure itself, a feeling for color and for pigment both for their emotive and their textural qualities. In contrast to the objectivity of these painters is the

1 Important impressionist painters are Gifford

Beal (1879- ), Frederick Frieseke (1874-

1939), William James Glackens (1870-1938), Childe Hassam (1859-1935), Ernest Lawson (1873-1939), and Jonas Lie (1880-1940).

2 Illustrative of this group are Bernard Kar-

fiol (1886- ), Leon Kroll (1884- ), Guy

P6ne du Bois (1884- ), Kenneth Hayes

Miller (1876- ), Alexander Brook (1898-

), and Eugene Edward Speicher (1883-

). The first four are skillful figure-painters. Pene du Bois and Miller tend toward social implications.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

745

[a] Marin. Maine Islands. 1922. Phillips Memorial Gallery , Washington. (. Phillips Memorial Gallery )

work of Walt Kuhn (1880- ), who

looks upon the figure more abstractly and attempts to condense it; that is, to simplify it into a few essential re- lated planes.

Perhaps Kuhn should be associated with another group, one of individual artists who illustrate what might be called the trend toward abstraction. 1 So diverse, however, are their modes of expression that no one or two can

1 Max Weber (1881- ) , Marsden Hartley (1877-1943), John Marin (1870- ), Charles

Sheeler (1883- ), Charles Demuth (1883-

1935), Georgia O’Keeffe (1887- ), and

Yasuo Kuniyoshi (1893- ) are important

members of the group.

be singled out as typical of the group. Even before the Armory Show these artists had known and assimilated the objectives of Cezanne and the postim- pressionists, the fauves, and the German expressionists; and in addition they had experienced a broadening acquaintance with exotic arts. Like the French, they made a direct break with the Renais- sance tradition; they tended toward ab- straction in form while retaining subject matter that was entirely American. Marsden Hartley looked at the moun- tains of Maine, where he was long resi- dent, with the scientific objectivity of Cezanne, searching for structural so- lidity and expressing it by means of

74 6 MODERN ART

[a] O’Keeffe. Church at Ranchos de Taos. 1929. Phillips Memorial Gallery , Washington. {Phillips Memorial Gallery )

scientific color relationship in pigment brushed on in bold strokes. John Marin developed a highly personal style in water color, in the technical handling of which he was one of America’s great masters. With Marin, objectivity and subjectivity are co-ordinated. Though reminiscent of the ultimate conciseness of the water colors of Cezanne and also of the fresh spontaneity of Matisse, yet his attitude seems closer to the Chinese Sung painters, in that through con- templation and absorption of the scene he reached its essence, and then with a few spontaneous strokes succeeded in translating his impression to the paper. Manhattan, with its intense vitality, and the Maine coast, peacefully quiet, were favorite themes. A very personal trait was his habit of marking out an area within the frame with three or four broad strokes, as if to state forcibly — all Marin’s statements are intensely

forceful, often explosive — the picture plane and through the opening to lead the onlooker directly into space by means of converging lines, or dark areas made emphatic by surrounding lights (Fig. 745A) . His color is reserved, in com- parison with Matisse’s for example, with considerable use of neutrals combined with warm areas and lightened by the white paper.

Georgia O’Keeffe is another original painter, always an exquisite craftsman and a sensitive colorist. Her palette is subtly limited and her paintings fre- quently have a tonality of vibrating grays. Her subject matter is taken from her own surroundings: Lake George, Canada, New Mexico. Except for flow- ers painted on a large scale reminiscent of a movie close-up, her usual themes are landscape, houses, barns ( White Canadian Barn No. 2 is an excellent ex- ample), still lifes of the desert, and the

[a] Sheeler. Totems in Steel, /g 35. Downtown Gallery, New York. {Downtown Gallery)

adobe churches of the Southwest, such tive. Complete or almost complete ab- as the well-known Church at Ranchos de straction characterizes their paintings. Taos (Fig. 746 a) . Whatever the theme, Davis’s landscapes are gay and vivid in her paintings tend away from objec- color. Sometimes they are linear, Ma-

tivity toward abstraction or at least tisse-like, with a certain amount of rep-

toward a highly economic statement resentational content. Again they are that does not preclude an emotional flat vivacious patterns of color areas, as element. Sheeler, on the contrary, under in the Summer Landscape (Fig. 748A) ; or

the influence of cubism, is cold in his again they are extremely abstract, like

abstraction. His scenes of factories (Fig. those of the synthetic cubists.

747A) are as concisely calculated as the The last group to illustrate the reflec- machine itself. The same precise calcu- tion in America of French dominance

lation appears in his Yachts and Yacht- is the surrealist group. Fantastic and

ing, which is an original version of surrealist painting has penetrated the

futurism in its vivid, terse expression of United States, as it has, in greater or

the essence of wind-driven ships. less degree, most of the American re-

Though the painters of this group publics. A great impetus to its spread

have been influenced by cubism in the has been the residence here of European

direction of abstraction, they have not surrealists who fled from Europe in the

abandoned the representational ele- thirties — Chagall, for example, Dali,

ment, as have a small group of which and Ernst. Its influence has been felt

Stuart Davis (1894- ) is representa- not only in the pictorial arts but also

[a] Davis . Summer Landscape. 1930. Museum of Modern Art, Mew York City. (. Museum of Modern Art)

MODERN ART

in advertising design similar to that of the nonobjective painting of Mon- drian . 1

Thus in the course of American paint- ing we can trace the influence of French styles from impressionism to surrealism. Sometimes the impact was too evident, too overpowering; sometimes a French style acted as a guiding hand to in- dividual accomplishment. To say this does not imply that there were no other elements in the accumulating American tradition. There were.

One was regional painting. All through the life of American painting has run a thread of “the American scene.” In the nineteenth century this

1 Among a considerable group of surrealists may be mentioned John Atherton (1900- ),

Peter Blume (1906- ), Arshile Gorky

(1904- ), Morris Graves (1910- ), and

O. Louis Guglielmi (1906- ).

theme appears in the Currier and Ives prints; in the popular magazine illus- trators, many of whom were first-rate painters, such as Winslow Homer; in the anonymous folk painters; and in Eakins, Henri, and Bellows — a clear line of descent. Its continuity was given impetus by John Sloan and others, in protest to what they considered the overintellectualism and artificiality of the abstractionists. A number of paint- ers , 2 not a few of them pupils of Henri, Bellows, and Sloan, have given vigor- ous interpretations — in painting and in the graphic arts, and in varying per- sonal modes of expression — of city 2 Glenn Coleman (1887-1932), Ernest Fiene (1894- ), Edward Hopper (1882- ),

Charles Ephraim Burchfield (1893- ) , Regi- nald Marsh (1898- ), Guy Pene du Bois

and William Gropper (1897- ) are impor-

tant members of this group. They select themes from town and cities, largely in the East.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

[a] Burchfield. Civic Improvement . 1927-28. International Business Machines Corporation Collection, New York City. (Frank K. M. Rehn)

crowds, back yards and alleys, shops, old houses, harbor scenes — everything in fact that is common in American life. Many of these painters comment on this life — Marsh and Burchfield (Fig. 749A) , for example — and Gropper adds a bitingly satiric element. As a re- sult, we find a kind of painting strongly tinged with social significance, partly as an expression of the social unrest in the texture of American culture and partly an influence from contemporary Mexican painting, which has been wholeheartedly devoted to the social revolution sweeping that country. In the Midwest themes were more rural 1 —

1 Thomas Hart Benton (1889- ), Grant

Wood (1892-1942), John Steuart Gurry (1897- 1946), and Doris Lee (1905- ) represent

this group.

cotton-pickers, small-town and country life on the prairies and the plains. All these regional painters are very dis- similar in their modes of painting and are grouped together only because they are motivated by one desire: to make their own environment the raw mate- rial of their expression. It is a movement that seems to parallel that of contempo- rary regional literature and regional folk songs.

Another event in the story of the accumulating American tradition, equal in importance, though not in kind, to the Armory Show, was the formation of the Federal Art Project and the Sec- tion of Fine Arts of the Treasury De- partment, set up in 1935 in the midst of the depression. These projects were vital for two reasons; first, because they

MODERN ART

750

brought economic salvation to thou- sands of artists; and second, because the nature of the projects brought the artist and the people nearer to each other than they had ever been before. The projects consisted of murals in schools, libraries, and other public buildings; easel paintings, sculpture, and ceramics loaned to public institu- tions or placed there permanently; the establishment of community art centers which not only brought the artist and the community together but provided means and assistance for creative ac- tivity on the part of the people. In this way the American people began to realize that the artist could be not only a desirable but an essential factor in community life. At long last, there seemed to be hope that the integration of art in the cultural fabric, long lost in Europe and the United States, though never in Mexico and in the Indian cultures, might eventually be- come an actuality. A flowering must have roots, and roots feed on an under- standing audience.

An invaluable activity of the Federal Art Project was the Index of American Design , in which hundreds of artists were put to work making careful copies of all kinds of objects, large and small, and in all parts of the country — mak- ing a corpus of our heritage which will lead to better understanding and appre- ciation of that heritage.

Another movement of considerable importance is the rise of contemporary Indian painting — partly because of its own worth; partly because, like the Index , it brings to attention the incal- culable value of authentically American Indian art; and partly because in its abstract form it finds common ground with the abstract tendency in modem painting.

This renascent Indian painting con- sists of water colors, and murals in pub- lic buildings. In style it is flat, linear,

and decorative, strictly in the tradition of the kiva and sand paintings (Fig. 422 a), with no accessory background and no linear perspective. In content it is an Indian regional art, consisting largely of ceremonial costumes and dances (Fig. 751 a), also of hunting and other everyday scenes. Awa Tsireh, of the San Ildefonso pueblo, a village that has witnessed a revival of pottery also, was one of the founders of this school.

An important movement is a grow- ing versatility on the part of the paint- ers, a breaking-down of specialism as they become active in photography, stage design, graphic arts, ceramics, glass, design for the arts of the machine

— to mention but a few fields.

Thus many painters, working in di- verse, individual modes, some rooted deeply in the Americas, some in Europe, some in both, are striving toward what may be called a truly American style

— truly American not in the narrow nationalistic sense, but in the sense of an America that, under the impact of close relationship with all its neighbors, is developing its own characteristic idiom of the world pictorial language.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Artists Series, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City, 1931, 1932

American Folk Art , Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1932

American Painting & Sculpture, 1862-1932, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1932

Americans, 1942, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1942

Boswell, Peyton, Jr., Modem American Painting, Dodd, Mead, 1939

Bruce, Edward, and Watson, Forbes, Art in Federal Buildings, Vol. I, Mural Designs, Art in Federal Buildings, Inc., Washington, D.C., 1936

Cahill, Holger, and Barr, Alfred H., Jr., Art in America, Halcyon House, 1939

and Barr, Alfred H., Jr., eds., Art

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING 751

[a] Tonita Pena ( Quah Ah). Eagle Dance. ( Exposition of Indian Tribal Arts , New York)

in America in Modern Times , Reynal and Hitchcock, 1934

Cheney, Martha C., Modem Art in America, McGraw-Hill, 1939

Contemporary Art of the Western Hemisphere, Inter- national Business Machines Corporation,

1941

Gallery of American Art, New York World’s Fair , American Art Today , National Art Society, 1939

Garwood, Darrell, Artist in Iowa: A Life of Grant Wood, Norton, 1944

Hall, William S., Eyes on America, Studio Publica- tions, 1939

Janis, Sidney, Abstract & Surrealist Art in America, Reynal & Hitchcock, 1944 They Taught Themselves, Dial Press,

1942

John Marin, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1936

Kootz, Samuel M., Modem American Painters , Brewer & Warren, 1930

New Frontiers in American Painting,

Hastings House, 1943

Mellquist, Jerome, The Emergence of an American Art, Scribner, 1942

Pagano, Grace, Contemporary American Painting, (Encyclopaedia Britannica collection), Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1945

Painters and Sculptors of Modern America, introduc- tion by Monroe Wheeler, Thomas Y. Crowell, 1942

Pearson, Ralph M., Experiencing American Pic- tures, Harper, 1943

Pueblo Indian Painting, 50 Reproductions of Water- color Paintings by Indian Artists of the New Mexico Pueblos of San Ildefonso and Sia, Nice, France, 1932

Schmeckebier, Laurence E., John Steuart Curry’s Pageant of America, American Artists Group, . 1943

Walker, John, and James, Macgill, Great Ameri- can Paintings from Smibert to Bellows, 1729- 1934, Oxford University Press, 1943

Watson, Forbes, American Painting Today, Ameri- can Federation of Arts, 1939

Zigrosser, Carl, The Artist in America, Knopf, 1942

75 2

MODERN ART

Canadian Painting

T HE most northerly nation of the Western Hemisphere reveals a Situation somewhat analogous, in its conservatism and close ties with aca- demic Europe, to some of the South American republics, especially to those in whose art there is no indigenous in- gredient. For, as in the United States, in Canada Indian elements were not assimilated in the evolving culture. Like the United States, Canada is very youthful, is in a ferment of assimilating many nationalities who have migrated thither and are scattered sparsely over a vast area. Thus there is a lack of co- herency in which traditions can de- velop.

One province, however, does present a coherent unity — the French Ca- nadian Quebec, where the intensely nationalistic population, even after the cession of 1763, continued in its tradi- tional manner of building neat houses and churches, of carving fittingly simple furniture and ecclesiastical furnishings and ornament at a time when in Mont- real and Ontario the English Georgian style supplanted the French, The tradi- tional French Canadian arts have survived to the present or are being revived, notably weaving — rugs, blan- kets, and lace — and wood-carving. The abundant native timber — birch, oak, walnut, and other woods — has stimulated the continuity of wood-carv- ing, which has flourished since its intro- duction in early colonial days, and has imbued the carvers with a feeling for the medium, for they rub and polish it by hand to bring out all its qualities of color, graining, and texture.

What little painting was done in Canada in the eighteenth century con- sisted of ecclesiastical paintings and por- traits, and was executed largely by vis- iting artists from Europe and the United

States. The nineteenth-century artists either went to Europe for training or to live there permanently, and limited themselves to the academic styles quite untouched by the French revolutionary movements which were shaping modern painting. At home the most refreshing note was found in the pictorial chroni- clers of life in Canada and the folk painters who correspond to Currier and Ives and the folk artists in the United States and to the costumbrista painters of South America. The best known of these were Paul Kane (1810-1871), who in connection with his work for the Hudson’s Bay Company traversed the vast West to the Pacific and used both this wild country and the Indians who inhabited it as his subject matter’ and Cornelius Krieghoff (1812-1872), who confined his subject matter to Lower Canada, with a preference for Quebec, whose city scenes and countrysides he painted with realistic detail but with spirit and gay color.

The early twentieth century wit- nessed a new spirit in Canadian paint- ing with the issuance of a manifesto by a group of young artists who painted as an avocation while they pursued teaching or commercial designing as a vocation, for no audience existed sym- pathetic enough to their work to sup- port them monetarily — a situation by no means limited to Canada but per- haps more acute there than elsewhere in the hemisphere. In 1915 they formed The Seven, whose motivation, like that of The Eight in the United States, was emancipation from Europeanism and freedom to interpret the Canadian land — northern Canada, the prairies, and the Rocky Mountains — and Canadian life in their own individual ways, and to build the tradition of a truly national art. Illustrative of the group was Tom Thomson (1877-19x7), who had learned the fundamentals of design as a com- mercial designer in an engraving house.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

753

[a] Thomson . West Wind. iqij. Art Gallery of Toronto. (Art Gallery of Toronto)

For his material he went into the wild, rugged country of northern Ontario. In his West Wind (Fig. 753A), we see a definite break with the traditional schools, under the impact of hints from the postimpressionists. The bold brush- work points to Van Gogh, and the flat linear quality to Gauguin. But all has been assimilated into a form that is not a description but a vigorous expression of the artist’s reaction to the wild land- scape that it portrays. The Seven dis- banded in 1932, and merged into the Canadian Group of Painters.

Thus we find on the one hand a for- ward-looking group who have become emancipated from the academic, real-

istic tradition and have been benefited and stimulated in varying degrees, both technically and formally, by lessons learned abroad; on the other hand, a conservative group which holds fast to the academic tradition — a situation which of course is duplicated in almost every country of the Americas. In the former group are found many elements, among them a number of “primitives,” and though the Canadians are shy of abstraction, a few are evolving in that direction.

Thus slowly the Canadian painters, in the face of conservatism and indif- ference, are working toward an expres- sion that is both modern and Canadian.

MODERN ART

754

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abell, Walter, “Neighbors to the North,” Mag- azine of Art, October 1942

Art Association of Montreal, Loan Exhibition of Masterpieces of Painting, Montreal, 1942

Canadian National Exhibition, Arts Catalogue, 1938, Canadian Painting and Sculpture , To- ronto, 1938

Colgate, William G., Canadian Art, Toronto, 1943

Contemporary Painting in Canada, Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass., 1942

The Development of Painting in Canada, 1665-1945, Toronto, 1945

Hughes, Margaret E., comp., “A Guide to Canadian Painters,” Ontario Library Review , May, August 1940

International Business Machines Corporation, Contemporary Art of Canada and Newfound- land, Toronto, 1940

Mclnnes, Graham, A Short History of Canadian Art, Toronto, 1939

MacTavish, Newton, Fine Arts in Canada, Mac- millan, 1925

National Gallery of Canada, Exhibition of Con- temporary Canadian Painting , Ottawa, 1936

— — - — — — - Retrospective Exhibition of Painting

by Members of the Group of Seven, 1919-1933, Ottawa, 1936

Robson, Albert H., Tom Thomson, Toronto, 1937

Tate Gallery, A Century of Canadian Art , London, 1938

Mexican Painting

N OWHERE in the Americas has modern painting been so vital as in Mexico. Mexico is a complex land, difficult to understand — a land of con- trasts and contradictions, of space and of scale. It is still a land where articles of daily use are made by hand and are of an exceptionally high quality; where the people as a whole, with their high esthetic aptitudes and appreciation, provide a fertile ground for a great florescence of art. Several other ele- ments contributed to the flowering of Mexican art. There was the recognition on the part of the artists of their rich

cultural heritage, the indigenous Indian and the Hispanic American, and hence a rebellion against subservience to the Academy with its neo-European bias. In addition there was an awareness of, and participation in, the revolution, both ideologically and actively, on the part of artists who found here vital ma- terial and who received assistance from the government for their enterprises. Finally, European training had pro- vided many of them with technical and professional proficiency to carry out their ideas.

Modern painting in Mexico cannot be understood apart from the Mexican Revolution in all its phases, political, social, economic, religious, and artistic. Although Mexico had broken with Spain (1821) and had become a re- public, at least in name, the old evils continued; the laws which were passed for their alleviation could not be en- forced. It was not until 1910, following a climax of greed and exploitation by the Diaz regime and of suffering and slavery on the part of the Indian and the mestizo, that the revolution burst forth with the cry “ Tierra y Libertad '/’* Why “Tierra” the land? The Indian is unthinkable apart from the soil. Ex- cept for the four or five large cities where industrialization has infiltrated, Mexico — and this is the real Mexico — consists of thousands of villages, chiefly remote from the capital, with intercommunication difficult; and or- ganized, as in the time of the Aztecs, on a communal system. 1 Most of Mex- ico had been carved up by the small ruling class and the Church into enor- mous feudal estates (haciendas) which held the Indians as peons, if not as something worse. Against this system of injustice and exploitation the revolu- tion burst forth. Its objectives were to free the oppressed classes and to restore

1 See Stuart Chase, Mexico: A Study of Two Americas, Macmillan, 1935.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

755

them to the land; to recognize their grounded in native soil, and second be- dignity as human beings and their right cause of its forceful expression through

to their own habits of life and thinking; the use of strong pattern, bold, eco-

and to grant them their right to con- nomic line, and dramatic action,

tribute to the evolution of a nation of The modern movement in painting

whose population they constituted prob- began about 1910 with the fall of Diaz ably more than one-half. and with a revolt of students against

A prelude and a voice of prophecy, the Academy. In the following turbu-

speaking for and to the people, was lent decade some of the artists, notably

found in the work of Jose Guadalupe Siqueiros, joined the revolutionaries.

Posada (1851—1913), an engraver who Orozco, in isolation, painted both

supplied illustrations for a publishing caustic caricatures and poignant scenes

house during the Diaz regime. His work of suffering in hues as somber as their

was prolific and covered a wide range — content. Other painters, especially Ri-

songs, ballads, stories, romances, mur- vera, were in Europe acquiring tech-

ders, current news items — usually with nical proficiency and assimilating ideas

caustic satire (Fig. 7 55A) . Contemporary from French painting. Carlos Merida

society came under his lash, often in the had arrived in Mexico City from Gua-

form of skulls and skeletons — quite temala with his paintings, which were

comprehensible to the Mexican, for the based on Guatemalan Indian themes

macabre is firmly fixed in his life, as can used, not to illustrate the picturesque

be seen, for example, in connection with peoples and costumes of that country,

the Feast of the Dead. Posada’s work but to provide a starting-point for the

constituted a dynamic commentary on creation of abstract forms. Dr. Atl (pseu-

life which appealed directly to an illit- donym of Gerardo Murillo, 1884- ) ,

erate audience — first because it was Roberto Montenegro (1885- ) and

[a] Posada. Calavera: Don Quixote. Relief engraving on metal. L. io| in. Art Institute of Chicago. {Art Institute)

75 6 MODERN ART

[a] Siqueiros . Proletarian Victim. Duco on burlap. 1933 . Museum of Modern Art , Tor& City. ( Museum of Modern Art)

Adolfo Best-Maugard (1891- )

were concerned with the folk arts and with educational methods. Miguel Co- varrubias (1904- ), another satirist,

belonged to this last group, which was bound together by a common motiva- tion.

The welding of these forces came about in 1922, with the formation of the Syndicate of Painters and Sculp- tors, whose double aim was: first and negatively, to have no more of out- moded neo-European art; second and positively, to create an art that was vital because rooted in truly Mexican tradi- tions and Mexican life. Opportunity for expression came from a revo- lutionary government, which commis-

sioned the painters to cover the walls of public buildings with murals whose content should be of their own choosing. More than a decade of feverish activity followed, during which Rivera, Roberto Montenegro, Siqueiros, Orozco, Jean Chariot, and others painted murals which depicted scenes of the revolution- ary struggle and expressed its ideolo- gies. These artists did not paint without opposition, however, for their work was frequently mutilated by antirevo- lutionists. A very important result of this decade of painting was the revival of the fresco technique. This was one of the group’s greatest contributions to the art of the Americas, and has stimu- lated mural painting in other American countries.

Though these painters were united in motivation, they were highly in- dividual in their mode of expression. Alfaro Siqueiros (1898- ), who per-

haps more than any other painter has participated actively in the revolution and in workers’ revolutionary move- ments, in his painting reveals an in- tensity of feeling that may stem from these experiences. In his Proletarian Vic- tim (Fig. 756 a), we see a figure as com- pactly sculpturesque as preconquest sculpture itself. This mass consists of a succession of volumes dramatized by high lights and stressed by the coiling ropes. The figure is painted on burlap in duco, with which Siqueiros has ex- perimented as a vehicle for pigment. Notably successful in this medium is the very sensitive portrait of Maria Astin- solo. 1 He has recently painted murals at Chilian, Chile, and in the Electri- cians’ Union, Mexico City.

Francisco Goitia (1884- ), an-

other painter who participated actively in the revolution, succeeds in expressing poignancy or utter despair in his paint-

1 See the color reproduction in Twenty Cen- turies of Mexican Art, Museum of Modern Art, 1940 .

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

[a] Rivera. Earth and the Elements. Fresco. 1927. Chapel of the Na- tional School of Agri- culture, Chapingo.

ings, as in the Tata Jesucristo, an Indian wake. 1

Diego Rivera ( 1 886- ) Had gone

to Europe in 1907 and, except for a brief return to Mexico, had remained there until 1921, assimilating the work of the cubists as well as the mosaics and frescoes of Italy. On his return to Mex- ico he immediately became involved in the revolutionary movement and for nearly a decade executed murals 2 which on the one hand were social and po-

1 See the color reproduction in Twenty Cen- turies of Mexican Art.

2 In the National Preparatory School and the Ministry of Education in Mexico City; in the Chapel of the National Agricultural College at Chapingo; in the Palace of Cortes at Cuer- navaca; and in the National Palace in Mexico City.

litical propaganda, and on the other, were directed toward the evolution of a truly Mexican art.

While some of the earlier of these paintings were in encaustic, most of them were true frescoes. This technique limited his palette to the earth colors, to which he added green, blue, and black. At Chapingo, a pervading warm tonality results from the earth reds ob- tained from tezontle, a native red vol- canic stone used widely in Mexican building. This tonality is an important element of unity in a decorative scheme that covers walls and ceiling. Massive figures of Earth and the Elements are symbols of the revolution (Fig. 757A). “Here we teach to exploit the soil and not man-”

758 MODERN ART

[a] Rivera . Sugar Cane . Fresco. Palace of Cortis. Cuernavaca. 1929-30.

Rivera’s ability to organize his ma- terial into a decorative mural unit, one to be seen satisfactorily from any part of the room, is apparent in all his work. In the Flower Festival (Fig. 759A), for example, the foreground figures, as com- pact as if carved from blocks of stone with the austere simplicity of Aztec sculpture, stand out against a wavering ground from which masklike faces emerge in the half-light beneath a mass of sharply pointed lilies. There is a sharp linear quality, and a tendency to flatten the forms as if to suppress space and maintain the integrity of the wall. Tri- angular motifs oppose curvilinear. The motif of the basket is repeated in the garments and the hands. Line, color, area shapes, light and dark — all are interrelated with clarity and precision.

In his frescoes in the open loggia of

the Palace of Cortes at Cuernavaca, Rivera has chosen local history as his subject matter (Fig. 758A) . Here again he reveals his command over mural design in the deft unification of several incidents to fill the space; in the diminu- tion of scale and color at the top of the panel to allow the larger-scale figures to form a solid base; in the fine inter- play of motives such as the bundles of cane, the shapes of the bending figures, the circles of hats and cart wheel; in the color scheme which integrates the cold blue-green of the cane with warm yel- lows and red-browns.

Rivera’s influence upon mural paint- ing in the United States in particular upon the revival of fresco, has been due in no small degree to the fact that he has executed frescoes in San Francisco (1930-31), Detroit (1932), and New York City (1933-34). Those in New York have been destroyed, but they exist in replica in the Palace of Fine Arts in Mexico City.

Jose Clemente Orozco (1883- ),

though imbued with the same ideology as the other members of the Syndicate, presents an entirely different personal- ity and manner of expression. Known as the “lone wolf” of Mexican painting, he is a reticent, passionate humani- tarian and a caustic satirist. While we look in vain for the mural quality found in Rivera’s frescoes, we find in Orozco an intense energy, a violence of feeling, that seems to pour forth in highly dra- matic designs: a frequent use of diag- onals, violent clashes of line direction and of color, light and dark strongly opposed with the light areas built up to a high intensity by white. Edges tend to be blurred. The pigment is put on in broad sweeps. All this is seen in The Barricade (Fig. 760A). His recent frescoes at Guadalajara (Orozco forswears easel painting in favor of fresco, in the tradi- tion of Michelangelo) cover two Ren- aissance domes and the walls beneath.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

759

[a] Rivera. A Flower Festival. Encaustic. 1931. Variant of a fresco in the Ministry of Education, Mexico. Museum of Modern Art, New York City. (Museum of Mod- ern Art )

In the Chapel of the Orphanage, figures representing Earth, Air, Sea, and Fire swirl around in one great rhythm that follows, with many minor contrasting movements, the surface of the dome, and then burst forth at its apex into infinite space in truly baroque style. In the Assembly Hall (University of Gua- dalajara) , in a lunette beneath the dome, hordes of emaciated starving people, against a background of fire, rush with angry gestures toward a cowering group of their oppressors. Violent chaotic movement, vivid color and value con- trasts, create an impressive passionate feeling which slows down somewhat as the gestures and the flames carry the eye to the brilliantly colored dome, which is filled with four figures, gigantic in size relative to those below, repre-

senting Man in four aspects: Scientist, Worker, Philosopher, and Skeptic (Fig. 76 1 a) . The figures are boldly constructed of sharply contrasted planes and areas of light and dark in a manner reminis- cent of the Byzantines and El Greco. Although in these paintings Orozco rises in wrath against the suffering of the Mexican people in designs that are surcharged with his violent feeling, he seems to imply a more universal, more abstract protest against injustice and exploitation as such, more in the tradi- tion, again, of Michelangelo. However, his passion for his theme overshadows feeling for the wall, which, like the ba- roque painters, he tends to annul. Like Rivera, Orozco has painted murals in the United States: in Pomona College, Claremont, California (1930); in the

760

MODERN ART

[a] Orozco. The Barri- cade. 1931. Variant of a fresco ( 1924 ) in the Na- tional Preparatory School , Mexico. Museum of Mod- ern Art, New York City. ( Museum of Modern Art)

New School for Social Research, New York City (1931); in the Library of Dartmouth College ( 1 932-34).

Although these masters are still paint- ing, the fervor of the revolution in painting has waned and a new genera- tion has turned from the social implica- tions of their predecessors. Some are still painting murals in schools, market places, and other public buildings. Many are turning to easel painting and are looking toward Picasso and the sur- realists. Though their emphasis, as a consequence, is upon formal problems, their motivation, like that of the pre- ceding generation, is the creation of an authentically Mexican art. Most are experimenting in technique — fresco, water color, gouache, oil, duco, lithog- raphy, etching, woodcuts — and many work in several mediums.

South American and Caribbean Painting

M EXICO, because more than any other country in the Americas it has attained a vital, authentic art, has stimulated painting not only north of the Rio Grande but also in the re- publics of Central and South America — especially in those of the western highlands, where, as in Mexico, the indigenous culture was high and the native traditions continuous and tena- cious. The eastern coastal countries and Chile, which contain most of the large wealthy cities of South America and which have far less of an Indian com- ponent than the western highlands, are still closely allied with Europe, with

French influence predominant. No one of the Central and South American countries has passed through such a social revolution as has Mexico. On the contrary, they are still largely feudal in organization. Yet the influence of Mexico has been widespread and is

stimulating latent capacities in the di- rection of a break from neo-European- ism and toward a more authentic national expression.

Foremost in this movement is Peru, where 65 per cent of the population are descendants of the Incas. Here has

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

[a] Orozco , Man in Four Aspects. Fresco in the dome of the University of Guadalajara. 1935. (. Frances Toor ) At the top Man the Worker stands erect grasping the lever of a machine; at the right Man the Scientist, holding a ruler and a compass and surrounded by charts and a partly dissected cadaver, gazes intently with his five faces in as many directions; at the bottom Man the Philosopher raises his right hand and extends his left in an attitude of exposition; at the left Man the Skeptic or Rebel lies with a rope around his neck, his fists clenched, his face and body con- torted with suffering.

762

MODERN ART

[a] Sabogal. Varayoc ( Indian Mayor) of Ckincheros. 1925, (San Francisco Museum of Art)

arisen a group known as the “indigen- ist” school, whose aim is to produce not an archaistic, illustrative art, but an interpretation of twentieth-century Peru in a mode that is rooted in its entire cultural heritage. The ingredi- ents of this school are the indigenous arts, the Spanish and French contacts, and technical proficiency gained by European training — all of which have been assimilated, as in Mexico, and turned in the direction of a truly na- tional art. Content is largely Indian types, plaza and street scenes, and the land itself. The individual artists vary in style but are all motivated by one aim: to interpret the real Peru, some- times with indirect if not direct social implications, and to give proportional

recognition to the majority Indian ele- ment in the Peruvian culture that has been held in eclipse since the Spanish conquest.

The leader of this group and perhaps its most noteworthy figure is Jose Sa- bogal (1888- ). SabogaPs forms, in

both his paintings and his woodcuts, are direct expressions of Indian life. His figures are commanding in scale, filling the space, as in the Varayoc of Ckincheros (Fig. 762 a); and they convey an impression of repose and dignity, as befits his themes. His later Landscape at Caima, Arequipa shows still further simpli- fication of form, in the direction of ab- straction and feeling for space relations. Many artists hint at a feeling for mural painting, the opportunity for which has been meager. For no sympathetic government involved in social revolution has provided Peruvian painters with walls to cover, as in Mexico. Julia Codesido (1892- ) paints figures

that are striking in their linear charac- ter and strong contrasts of bold, flat color areas and that are large in scale, like SabogaPs. Frequently her work hints at the costumbrista painters of the nineteenth century, as in her Lima (Mu- seum of Fine Arts, San Francisco) . In hex Indian Women before a Chapel (fig. 763A), on the other hand, the figures are strongly sculptural and in their austere monumentality contrast strikingly with the gold elegance of the baroque in- terior. 1

Neighboring Bolivia is also rooted in the Inca culture, and today has a very large percentage of still submerged In- dians in its population. A recognition of these facts, together with instigation from Mexico and Peru, especially from

1 Other members of the “indigenist” school are Camilo Bias (1903- ), Enrique Camino-

Brent (1909- ), Teresa Garvallo (1903- ),

Ricardo Florez ( 1 893- ) , and Mario Urteaga (1875- )> The last, though associated with

the “indigenists,” is a contemporary Peruvian folk artist.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

763

j a] Codesido. Indian Women before a Chapel. ig$2. ( San Francisco Mu- seum of Art)

Sabogal, has stirred a group of paint- ers to pursue the same path as the latter countries, though the urge for expression may not be so strong. Indian themes and the land itself provide their subject matter. Cecilio Guzman de Rojas of Potosi (1900- ), perhaps

best known of the group, has used the brilliantly colored costumes of the Bo- livians and their vivacious dances as material for paintings which tend more toward flat pattern than toward the three-dimensional expressions of the Mexicans and the Peruvians. One Bo- livian painter, Roberto Guardia Ber- decio (1910- ), under the personal

influence of Alfaro Siqueiros of Mexico, has not only entered the field of abstract art but has also participated in Si- queiros’ experiments in duco as a paint- ing medium.

Ecuador, Colombia, and Venezuela are still largely neo-European. Colom- bia, quite untouched, strangely enough, by the rich Chibcha culture, has always kept close to Spain, to the San Fer- nando Academy, and to the Spaniards Sorolla and Zuloaga. Venezuela tends toward the French rather than the Spanish. Ecuador, despite its great ac- complishment in earlier centuries, is still weakly European. In all these coun- tries, however, are individuals or groups among the younger artists who, usually under the influence of Mexico, are searching for a more authentically na- tional expression not only in painting but also in the field of the folk arts and the various crafts. This is notably true in Colombia and Venezuela.

Chile, with its large bustling cities, is more akin, in this respect and also

764

MODERN ART

[a] Guido. Stevedores Resting. Tempera. 1938. Museum of Modern Art, Mew York City. ( Museum of Modern Art)

in its lack of a strong indigenous ele- ment, to the opulent cities of the eastern coast; and like them it remains close to Europe — to France in particular — and retains almost intact its Spanish social structure. The painters hold true to this pattern, following in general the conservative academic French modes, with competent craftsmanship but with little evidence of modern Paris, despite a considerable amount of modern archi- tecture in Santiago. An exception is found in the abstract paintings of Ro- berto Matta Echaurren, the architect already noted, who became associated in Paris with the surrealists. His influ- ence, together with that of Siqueiros of Mexico, who has recently executed mu- rals at Chilian in Chile, may cause a break in the general conservatism. A promising movement appears in the field of the industrial arts, under the stimulating leadership of Jose Perotti,

director of the School of Applied Arts, in which the native folk arts are assert- ing their influence in weaving, pottery, and silverwork. In the last field, one sees an infiltration of the great accom- plishment of the one Indian group to remain intact and unconquerable by the Spaniard, the Araucanian.

In Argentina, which is as conserva- tive, on the whole, as Chile and even more closely allied with Europe, we find the painters concentrated chiefly in animated Buenos Aires. With no in- digenous stylistic element and with par- ticularly close ties with France and Italy, some painters follow preimpres- sionist and impressionist styles; some, the Spanish style of Sorolla or Zuloaga; a few, the cubist or surrealist styles. While their themes are local, such as the gaucho, they tend to be illustrative rather than interpretative. Though con- servative as a whole, Argentinian paint-

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

765

[a] Figari. Creole Dance. Museum of Modern Art, Mew York City. {Museum of Modern Art) Compare this static organization with the movement in Fig. j68a .

ing is experiencing a ferment under the leadership of Alfredo Guido (1892- ), sculptor, painter, and

etcher. His impressive Stevedores Resting (Fig. 764A) in its simply blocked-out forms is a long step from the illustra- tions of local themes in the impressionist manner. Even more so are the sculp- turesque portraits of Lino Enea Spi- limbergo (1896- ) and the cubist

work of Emilio Pettoruti (1895- )>

which shows a direct impress of the synthetic cubist paintings of Picasso and Braque.

Across the La Plata, Uruguay also has received some degree of abstraction- ism into its traditions in the work of Joaquin Torres-Garcia of Montevideo (1874- ) , who in Europe came under

the influence of Piet Mondrian, Paul Klee, and Ozenfant but on his return developed a highly individual style that is reminiscent of hieroglyphics. Pedro Figari (1861-1938), on the other hand,

probably the most eminent painter of Uruguay, an attorney by profession, produced a prodigious number of pic- tures of the life of Uruguayan people of all classes, festivals, dances, gauchos — hardly any aspect of life has been left untouched in these small pictures, which have the clear directness of folk art, like the retablos of Mexico, vivid color in strong contrasts, and luscious surface texture (Fig. 765A).

In Brazil, judging from the brilliant accomplishments in architecture, we might expect an equal emergence from the nineteenth century in painting. On the contrary, there have prevailed in general the conservative academic modes set by the Fine Arts Academy in 1816 when it placed Brazilian paint- ing in line with the French tradition. Exceptions there are, however, which appear to be laying the ground for the evolution of a more truly original Bra- zilian art. The center of activity is the

766 MODERN ART

energetic city of Sao Paulo, center of the coffee industry, where, after an awakening through the influence of Brazilian artists who had become im- pressed in Europe with modern move- ments, modern art burst upon Brazil in the Week of Modern Art held in Sao Paulo in 1922. This occasion involved not only painting but also music, the dance, folklore, and literature. It stressed particularly the place of the Negro in the culture of Brazil, his con- tributions to folklore and to the dance and music as seen in the work of Villa- Lobos. For while the Indian has con- tributed but little to the cultural fabric of Brazil, the Negro has played an im- portant role. Frans Post pictured him in his early colonial paintings. The Week of Modern Art was an outburst affecting the whole cultural fabric and has been followed by exhibitions of the work of Picasso and other modern French painters. Probably the chief figure in this movement in painting is Candido Portinari (1903- ) of Sao

Paulo, residing in Rio de Janeiro, and well known in the United States because he has exhibited here and executed murals at the New York World’s Fair and in the Library of Congress. With Somewhat the same motivation as the Peruvian painters, Portinari has sought to interpret the colorful life of the com- mon folk of Brazil, their industries, and their festivals. In general his style tends to be direct and vivid, with dramatic contrasts of color and value. In the Mono (Hill) (Fig. 767A), for example, against a lusciously rich red hill stand forth the awkward, angular figures of people in vivid blues and greens high- lighted with white; on the high horizon in the distance is the blue bay of Rio de Janeiro and the skyscrapers of the city, which repeat the rectangular mo- tifs of the cabins on the hill.

In the richly tropical Caribbean area, including the Central American na-

tions, painting in general tends to be illustrative and to follow French modes. One exciting development has taken place within the last five years, in Cuba. This island has no indigenous element in its culture, as the Indians were early exterminated by the Spaniards. It does, however, have a large Negro ingredient, which has contributed vitally, especially in music and dancing. Negro, Spanish baroque, contemporary Mexico, and contemporary Paris, especially Picasso, together have converged upon a group of painters and have stirred them to an expression in painting which, though immature, is filled with fresh vitality and exuberance, and shows a complete break with traditional academism. This painting reveals no social implications, despite the presence in Cuba of the Mexican Siqueiros, one of the most so- cial-minded of the Mexican painters. All members of the group are highly individual. Ponce de Leon (1895- ),

for example, works in a ghostly palette of white and pale neutrals, with heavy impasto. His subjects are largely figures and portraits, into which he often in- fuses an ironic vein. Markedly in con- trast is the startling color of Amelia Pelaez (1897- ) who in Paris came

under the influence of the synthetic cubist painters. In her paintings we feel also the late linear style of Picasso in the heavy dark lines, the sharp con- trasts of color, frequently of comple- mentary red and green. In Mario Ca- rreno (1913- ) too, we are perhaps

first struck by the “intoxicating color,” brilliant complementaries juxtaposed boldly with little gradation. In his Sugar-Cane Cutters is the same intensity of energy and movement as in his Afro- Cuban Dance (Fig. 768A), in which the bold color, and the squat bulbous fig- ures with large feet, full of movement compressed within the canvas, create an uncanny impression of witchery. Part of this effect results from equally

[a] Portinari. Mono. iggg. Museum of Modern Art, New York City. ( Museum of Modern Art) The scene shows village life in the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro.

ture. They “analyzed forms to simplified but related elements, then reshaped them into new and subtle entities.” 1 Sometimes these entities were repre- sentational, sometimes nonrepresenta- tional, or nonobjective, or completely geometric. The painter’s problem was frequently the same as that of the archi- tect and the sculptor— - space relation- ships' and not a few twentieth-century painters have been accomplished archi- tects and sculptors as well. Seurat and Cezanne pointed the way; the cubists took a long stride; Kandinsky, Mon- drian, and the Russians attained com- plete nonobjectivity; the Germans, shunning the formalism of the French, revitalized earlier traditional styles with 1 Sweeney, op. dt., p. 47.

bold textures Created by the addition of cloth, rope, and strings of heavy pig- ment to the glossy effect of the duco technique.

SUMMARY

A bird’s-eye view of twentieth-cen- tury painting sees Paris the magnetic focal point, which not only has drawn painters to itself but also has decentral- ized its influence far and wide. As a whole, the painters of Paris have broken/" like the architects in their break with eclecticism, with the Renaissance tradi- tion of visual perception which began with Giotto and culminated in impres- sionism. For it they substituted a con- ceptual subjective attitude toward na-

768

MODERN ART

[a] Carreho. Afro-Cuban Dance. Duco on composition board. 1943. Peris Galleries , New fork City. {Museum of Modern Art ) Compare with Fig. 765 a .

a tendency both to transcendentalism and to realism; the futurists, protesting against the past vitriolic ally, and with eyes intent upon the present and the future, attempted to express time and space in the normally static art of painting; the realists and the surrealists in their ideology probed the subcon- scious and the world of pure fantasy, and often expressed it through a pains- taking realism.

In the Americas, the traditional styles to a greater or less degree dominate — less in the United States, where an authentic art seems to be in the making; more in Canada and the South Ameri- can countries, where academism and im- pressionism are still largely dominant, though in several of these countries two trends are observable: an infiltration here and there of twentieth-century French painting, and a renascence of

the indigenous cultures which is pro- ducing an art rooted in long-lived tradi- tions. Mexican painting is the most ex- citing painting in the Americas. Here an authentic national art has arisen, born of the Mexican Revolution, strong in social significance, and of the highest esthetic quality, notably in its frescoes, by which it has given great impetus to the revival of mural painting in all the Americas. We are struck, first of all, with the extraordinary variety of this modern painting — which, after all, is to be expected when we consider the restless incoherence of our century. The general trend is toward a break with the past and an intent search for new directions. Probably abstract art — to use the term broadly — is one of the chief phenomena of twentieth-century painting. Whether it is the pioneer of a new style, or whether it will cleanse traditional styles of their too great em- phasis on verisimilitude and revitalize them, only the future can tell. Yet in this pioneering stage, undoubted mas- terpieces have been created of a quality to take their places beside any of the “old masters.” Another characteristic is its international overtones. National- ism within the framework of interna- tionalism, analogous to what we have seen in architecture and to the present political concept of national sovereignty within the framework of an interna- tional organization has by no means been attained, but a trend in that direc- tion is clear.

Still, unfortunately, painting is con- cerned primarily with itself, with formal problems as ends in themselves; is de- void of function in contemporary cul- ture, lacks an understanding audience. A healthy sign is the breaking-down of lines of specialization. Painters are put- ting their talents to work in many fields new to them and thus coming closer to their audience. On the whole they are responding, often prophetically, to a

TWENTIETH-CENTURY PAINTING

new age in the making, and are giving concrete expression to what they feel are the' vital forces at work in our con- temporary age.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Artists Group Monograph Series, American Artists Group, 1945-

Argentina, National Committee New York World’s Fair and Golden Gate Exposition, Fine Arts in Argentina, Buenos Aires, 1939

Brenner, Anita, Idols behind Altars, Payson & Clarke, 1929

Chilean Contemporary Art, Toledo Museum of Art, Toledo, Ohio, x 942

A Comprehensive Exhibition of the Contemporary Art of Argentina, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Va., 1940

Fernindez, Justino, El arte moderno en Mixico, Mexico City, 1937

- — — - JosS Clemente Orozco, Mexico City,

1944

Frescoes of Diego Rivera, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1933

Gamboa, Fernando, Schniewind, Carl O., and Edwards, Hugh L Posada, Printmaker to the Mexican People, Art Institute of Chicago, 1944

Gomez Sicre, Jose, Cuban Painting of Today, Eng- lish. version by Harold T. Riddle, Havana, 1944

Grant, Frances R., Brazilian Art , Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., January 1931

Hanson, Earl P., ed., The New World Guides to the Latin American Republics, 2 vols., Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1943

Helm, MacKinley, Modem Mexican Painters, Harper, 1941

James, Concha R,, “Spanish American Litera- ture and Art,” in Concerning Latin American Culture, ed. by Charles C. Griffin, Columbia University Press, 1940

Kirstein, Lincoln, The Latin-American Collection of the Museum of Modem Art, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1943

Landgren, Marchal E., “Contemporary Paint- ing in Latin America,” Studio, November

• 939> p- m

769

Llerena, Jose A., La Pintura ecuatoriana del sigh XX, and Chaves, A., Primer registro biblio - grafico sabre artes plasticas en el Ecuador , Quito, Ecuador, 1942

Merida, Carlos, Modern Mexican Artists, Crown,

1938

— Orozco’s Frescoes in Guadalajara,

Mexico City, 1940

Mexican Art Today, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1943

Modem Cuban Painters, Bulletin of the Museum of Modern Art, New York City, Vol. XI, no. 5, April 1 944

Oglesby, Catharine, Modern Primitive Arts of Mexico, Guatemala and the Southwest, McGraw- Hill, 1939

Orozco, Jose C., Jose Clemente Orozco, introduc- tion by Alma Reed, Delphic Studios, 1932 Payro, Julio E., Veintidos pintores , facetas del arte Argentina, Buenos Aires, 1944 Portinari, Candido, Portinari, His Life and Art, University of Chicago Press, x 940 Portinari of Brazil, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1 940

Rivera, Diego, The Frescoes of Diego Rivera, introduction by Ernestine Evans, Harcourt, Brace, 1929

Schmeckebier, Laurence E., Modern Mexican Art, University of Minnesota Press, 19353 Smith, Robert C., “Brazilian Art,” in Concerning Latin American Culture, ed. by Charles C. Griffin, Columbia University Press, 1940

— — — - Brazilian Painting in New York,

Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., September 1939

— — “Latin American Painting Comes

into Its Own,” Inter-American Quarterly, July 1940

Toor, Frances, Mexican Art Series — Frescoes, Nos. 1-10, Mexico City, 1937

Mexican Popular Arts, Crown, 1 939

Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 194 o Velisquez Chives, Agustin, Contemporary Mexi- can Artists, Covici Friede, 1937

Tres siglos de pintura colonial mexi-

cana, Mexico City, 1939

Ward, Constance A., The Guatemalan Art Renais- sance, Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Washington, D.C., May 1941 Wolfe, Bertram D., Diego Rivera, His Life and Times, Knopf, 1939

Zalamea, Jorge, Nueve artistas colombianos , Bogotd, Colombia, 1941

770

MODERN ART

[a] Manship. Dancer and Gazelles. Bronze. H. 33 in. igi6. Art Insti-

45

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE

S CULPTURE, after playing a minor role since the sixteenth century, is now beginning to resume importance. Despite this lag, its evolution parallels, to a remarkable degree, that of archi- tecture and painting, with which it has common aims: simplification; study of the potentials of various materials, old and new; and concentration on formal problems, those of organization in space in particular. It is reaffirming the mean- ing of sculpture, in contrast to the con- ception of a statue as a copy of a model, and is regaining its long-lost affinity with architecture. In style it is almost more international than architecture, with necessarily some national diver-

gencies. As with the painters, Paris has been the center of activity for sculptors of most of the European countries, the United States, and the Latin American nations. But even before the outbreak of World War II, many accomplished sculptors became residents of the United States, and now many are working here. Thus any attempt to classify sculptors nationally immediately breaks down. It seems wiser to try to follow a general line of evolution from realism, through a modified naturalism, to abstraction and nonobjectivity — which, to repeat, parallels the evolution found in paint- ing. In fact many of the greater artists practice both arts.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE

This evolution has been recent, for no series of dynamic revolts occurred in sculpture in the nineteenth century, as happened in painting. It is true that some sculptors, Fran?ois Rude (1784- 1855) and Antoine Louis Barye (1796- 1875), for example, had turned from the popular neoclassicism toward a new realism, often romantically dramatic. Auguste Rodin (1840-1917), the lead- ing sculptor of the nineteenth century, produced work in stone, bronze, and terra cotta that was primarily literary and psychological rather than formal in its content. His concern was with surface modulation and realistic detail rather than upon mass, volume, and space, though at times his work seems to give us the impression of a solid mass beneath.

In the Americas of the nineteenth century, we observe the same kind of sculptural expression as in Europe, be- cause the few who practiced the art studied or lived in France or Italy and worked in a weak Italianate or neo- classical style. Formal structure was al- most completely lost; stonecutting had long since disappeared in favor of the clay model translated into stone by mechanical means. Probably the lead- ing sculptor in the United States was Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907), who, in a long series of portraits and monuments, seemed to pioneer in the direction of monumentality in such fig- ures as the Lincoln (Lincoln Park, Chi- cago) and in the Adams Memorial (Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington). Al- though in the latter the nineteenth- century literary quality is present, we observe a suppression of irritating, un- organized detail in favor of broad sim- plification and unbroken contours. An- other pioneer was George Grey Barnard (1 863-1938), whose conceptions were forceful and monumental, and whose realism was an assertive force rather than a description of facts, as seen in his

[a] Faggi. Station of the Cross: Jesus Counsels the Daughters of Jerusalem. Bronze. 1924. Church of St. Thomas the Apostle, Chicago.

Two Natures of Man (Metropolitan Mu- seum, New York). Another contribu- tion of Barnard was his plea for a retur n to direct stonecutting.

With this nineteenth-century back- ground, sculpture was ill-prepared for the abrupt bursting upon the scene of primitive, archaic, and Far Eastern arts, whose influence has been as stimu- lating as the general ferment of new ideas and new directions found in all the arts; for these types of sculpture awakened artists to the intrinsic mean- ing of sculptural form. These two in- fluences, the acquaintance with various truly sculptural arts and the forward movements in architecture and paint- ing, served to outmode the eclectic and imitative type which had spread over all Europe and the Americas. The latter did not cease to exist. In fact it is still practiced today as “academic” art. But

772

MODERN ART

[ a ] MeMrovic. Mounted Indian. Bronze. 1928. Chicago. (Art Institute of Chicago)

the new ideas have infiltrated widely throughout both halves of the Western Hemisphere. In the Americas, an awak- ening to the powerfully sculptural qual- ity in pre-Columbian art has had a pro- found effect.

In this permeation there was no sud- den break with the older traditions, which at first seemed revivified by some of the pioneers who were struggling to cast off the shackles of romanticism, eclecticism, and formlessness. One of these was Paul Manship (1885-- ),

who, notwithstanding a servile depend- ence upon early Greek art, exhibits in his small bronzes both superb crafts-

manship and an effective decorative quality, as in the Dancer and Gazelles (Fig. 770 a ), with its suave movement based on a design of curves. Decorative sculpture began to find a more har- monious relation with buildings which were breaking from the Renaissance tradition in style, as is illustrated in the reliefs of Antoine Bourdelle (1861-1929) on the Theatre des Champs-Elysees (Paris), with their insistence on clearly cut planes. The English Eric Gill (1882-1940), engraver, draftsman, il- lustrator, and pre-eminently a stone- cutter, contributed to the evolution and the meaning of sculpture by his writings

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE

as well as by his carvings. He cut di- rectly , in native British stone, highly decorative reliefs and figures which were conventional in treatment and almost abstract in form. The I talo- American Alfeo Faggi ( 1 885- ) also, by means

of symbols, conventions, and distor- tions, expressed profoundly religious moods, as is seen in his Stations of the Cross (Fig. 77 1 a) and in his poignant presentations of the Pieta, in which a spiritual unity is enhanced by the close formal unity of the figures. The Yugo- slav Ivan Mestrovic (1883- ),

worker in stone, wood, and bronze, uses similar means both in his stone reliefs, as in the Racic Mausoleum (Cavtat, Yugoslavia) and his bronze Indians (Fig, 772 a) , in which mass, contours, and line combine (note the strong diagonals) to create a dynamic effect. Carl Milles (1875- ) of Sweden, now resident

in America, attains forthright strength in his work through simplification and clarity of relationships. He has made many fountains, all with an architec- tural quality, usually of bronze and boldly modeled in strong simple planes with emphatic repeated motifs in order to carry in the out-of-door light. Water he has treated effectively as an integral element in the design. His equestrian statue Folke Filbyter (Fig. 773 a), with its powerful countermovement in the man and the horse, again illustrates how a forceful relationship of mass and contour achieves a forceful statement of an idea.

Rugged strength appears also in the bold, massive forms in wood and bronze of the German Ernst Barlach (1870- 1938), which are permeated with pas- sion, in tune with the intense spirit of the German expressionist painters, and also in the tradition of German wood- carving. Strongly in contrast are the bronze portraits of the French Charles Despiau (1874-1946; Fig. 774A), the surfaces of which are sensitively modu-

[a] Milles . Folke Filbyter. Bronze. 1927. Replica of the original on a fountain in Linkoping, Sweden. City Art Museum , St. Louis. (St. Louis Museum)

lated and the forms permeated with a gentle charm and an exquisite taste that seem partly French and partly per- sonal. Contrastingly, again, the por- traits of Jacob Epstein (1880- ), an

American living in England, reveal a nervous energy, an intensity of life, due to a highly individual, emotive manner of handling clay and bronze. These por- traits, though solidly constructed, re- ceive special surface emphasis, partly in an attempt to indicate all the minute planes which exist in a head, partly for

774

MODERN ART

[a] Despiau. Antoinette Schulte. Bronze. H. 20 in. 1934. Antoinette Schulte Collection , New York City. (. Antoinette Schulte)

interpretation, and partly for the purely esthetic pleasure derived from the man- ner of handling the clay, as the painter depends for certain effects upon his mode of manipulating pigment. The Epstein Figure 775A, for example, shows a powerfully bold, massive intellect, while the Oriel Ross is feminine, with a liveliness due to a delicate playing-off of contrasting textures. Epstein’s stone- carving can be illustrated by the Day and Night of the London Underground. In the latter, the decorative quality is equaled by a brooding spirit consonant with the theme. 1

In individuals like these, sculpture regained a truly sculptural quality and a command over materials, however divergent their personal modes. If an

1 For Epstein’s own exposition of his pur- poses, see his The Sculptor Speaks, Doubleday, Doran, 1932.

over-all statement of style can be made, we might say that it was a modified naturalism, in which frequent use of conventions contributed a decorative and architectural quality.

A stronger trend toward abstract forms, toward the use of the figure for its purely esthetic possibilities, with little or no ulterior content, appears in a rather large group of sculptors working in various mediums. Aristide Maillol (1861-1944) worked in terra cotta, stone, and bronze, and was equally accomplished in drawing, lithography, and woodcutting. His Seated Woman (Fig. 776 a) is conceived as an abstract organization constructed out of the vol- umes provided by the human figure. It has all the weight and solidity inherent in the material, and the largely un- broken surfaces of the simply carved masses take the light evenly and quietly.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE 775

This treatment of the figure bears a strong similarity to that of the Greek sculptors of the late archaic age, those of Olympia, for example (Fig. 1 36B) . Yet Maillol is not archaistic, like Manship, The German Wilhelm Lehmbruck (1881-1919), in contrast to Maillol, used attenuated figures, with elongated proportions to attain an impression of lyric grace. But his motivation is the same: to use the figure as a vehicle for formal expression, usually with abstract content — if form itself is not the only meaning. Lehmbruck’s Kneeling Woman (Fig. 778A) consists of interplaying cylin- drical volumes which move suavely about a strong vertical axis and are unified and stabilized by the drapery.

The American Gaston Lachaise (1882-1935) was a sculptor expert in the use of bronze. In the Figure of a Woman (Fig. 777A), the strongly felt movement swells from the lightly poised feet to a climax in the large rounding hips; thence, after a sharp accent in the angle of the waist, it again swells into the broad shoulders and the bent arms. It is this abstract rhythm, sym- bolic of some profound power rising to a climax, that is the content of the statue. Bronze is peculiarly suitable for objectifying this upward movement. Contrast the weight and solidity, the feeling of the play of gravity, in the stone-carving of Maillol or of William Zoi'ach (1887- ), an American who,

like Maillol, is primarily a carver in stone and seeks to compose complex arrangements of spherical and cylin- drical volumes afforded by one or more figures into clearly and firmly inte- grated, compact structures filled with movement and enlivened by contrasts of texture. Another American, Robert Laurent (1890- ), is also a direct

stonecutter and is extremely versatile in the matter of medium. Out of the difficult translucent, striated alabaster he has created small-scale figures with

[a] Epstein. Albert Einstein. Bronze. H. 17^ in. 1333. Hiram J. Halle Collection , New fork City .

sensitively related masses and suavely flowing planes. In wood he has experi- mented in the use of plant forms as suitable raw material for the sculptor; and in bronze he has employed bird forms for garden sculpture.

Wood-carving in a simplified manner, tending strongly toward abstraction, ap- pears in the work of some of the Latin American artists. The abundance and variety of wood in the tropical areas naturally led sculptors to its use. The Christ (Fig. 77813) of Maria Martins of Brazil (1900- ) is a commanding

figure because of the almost geometric simplicity of its cylindrical form. Marina Ndriez del Prado of Bolivia (19x0- )

has succeeded in infusing solid masses of wood with the vivacious rhythms of the Bolivian Indian dancers.

MODERN ART

[a] Maillol. Seated Woman, c. igoi.

An impetus toward complete ab- straction, and finally to nonobjectivity •— that is, to nonrepresentational sculp- ture — came through a wider acquaint- ance with Negro, primitive, and archaic sculpture, and cubism. Matisse and the Italian Amedeo Modigliani ( 1 884- 1920) show the Negro influence. Picasso applied the theories of cubism to sculp- ture as well as to painting. The Roma- nian Constantin Brancusi (1876- )

carried abstraction as far as possible without entirely losing the representa- tional content, and at the same time extracted from the material its maxi- mum potentiality: from stone, in his por- trait of Madame Pogany; from brass, in the Bird in Flight (Fig. 779A). In the latter everything accidental has been eliminated or compressed into the most direct and economical expression pos- sible, and representational content has been reduced to a minimum. “In flight 55 is the important part of the title, the

sheer essence of movement. This the sculptor has attained by meticulous at- tention to proportions, contours, and surface treatment. Note the exquisite quality of the proportions and unbroken contours, and the highly polished sur- face. The means which Brancusi has used to stress the concept of flight es- thetically are the same which the mod- ern engineer uses in designing his “streamlined 55 airplanes, locomotives, and automobiles.

England — strangely enough, since the English have long been lacking in sculptural expression — has produced some sculptors of the highest creative ability who have made an important contribution to abstract and nonobjec- tive sculpture. Of these Henry Spencer Moore (1898- ) is the best known.

His carvings in wood and stone are sur- charged with a feeling for mass on a grand scale — mountains of mass alter- nating with valleys of empcy space;

[a] Lachaise. Figure of a Woman . Bronze . 1927. J. A. Dunbar Collection, New York City . (Museum of Modern Art)

of creating open space within the space determined by the material. This Lip- chitz accomplished. In the second dec- ade of the century, when he was under the influence of primitive and cubist art, he created figures in clay, stone, cement, or bronze which consist of inter- penetrating volumes and planes. Then he lightened the weight by piercing the mass (Fig. 779B), and eventually elimi- nated so much of the matrix that only

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE 777

lighted solids, with deeply shadowed voids — and always show a strong tac- tile feeling (Fig. 780A) . Sometimes the human figure is the starting-point for these constructions; sometimes non- representational shapes, repeated in subtle variation, constitute his raw ma- terial. 1

The profound rhythms and the im- perturbability in Moore’s carvings con- trast with the more spirited movement in the work of the Ukranian Alexander Archipenko (1887- ) and the French

Jacques Lipchitz (1891- ), both

now resident in the United States. These sculptors are versatile in the handling of various mediums and dar- ing in their experimentations and in- novations in sculptural form. Archi- penko, like so many modern artists, is an accomplished draftsman, painter, and ceramist as well as a sculptor. He works deftly in many mediums — marble, brass, aluminum, wood — with a feeling for the distinctive quality of each. His abstract conceptions are based on the human figure, from which he extracts only those parts that serve his purpose. The White Torso is as abstract as Brancusi’s Bird in Flight. The figure is controlled by a single suave vertical movement punctuated by the sharp angles at the waist and knee. One of his innovations is the use of concavities sunk into the mass like intaglio, which in certain lights appear as convexities.

Ossip Zadkine (1890- ), a Pole

now living in the United States, also experimented in the use of concavities. We may think of this practice as a prel- ude to the actual piercing of the mass,

1 For further examples of nonobjectivity, see the work of the painter Hans Arp, who uses in his reliefs the same amoeboid shapes as in his painting; of Ben Nicholson of England, whose reliefs seem the sculptural counterpart of Mon- drian’s paintings; and of the Russian Antoine Pevsner, who concentrates upon the problems of the interpenetration of volumes and planes as applied to sculpture.

77 8

MODERN ART

[a] Lehmbruck. Kneeling Woman. Cast Stone. 1911. [b] Martins. Christ. Ja- il. c. 6 ft. Museum of Modern Art, New York City . caranda wood. H. c. 8 ft.

{Figs. 778 A and B, Museum of Modern Art) A strong ver- 194.1. Museum of Modern

tical axis stabilizes the movements of diagonals. Art, New York City.

light strands remain which carry inter- woven rhythms. These, however, are in bronze, the only suitable medium for such compositions. 1

This piercing of the mass, with the consequent creation of interior space, seems but a step toward the attempt to create actual movement, the fourth di- mension, within that space. That has

1 It is illuminating to trace Lipchitz’s treat- ment of the Woman and Guitar— a. favorite sub- ject — from his cubist period to the present.

been the accomplishment of Alexander Galder (1898- ), whose mobiles, as

they are appropriately called, made of pipe, wire, metal, and other materials are so scientifically constructed and bal- anced that their parts move with the slightest currents of air within the con- fines of a carefully calculated space — like the movements of a dancer, pro- vided the dancer remains within a fixed space. The futurists had attempted to bring into sculpture the movement

[a] Brancusi. Bird, in [b] Lipchitz . Pegasus. Bronze. H. 14% in. 1929. Mrs. T. Catesby Flight. Brass. 1919. Jones Collection, New York City. (Figs, yy 94 and b, Museum of Museum of Modern Modern Art) Compare with Fig. 169B. Both designs are suitable Art , New York City. only to metal .

which the painters had attempted to bring into painting. But while their work suggests the fourth dimension, they seem heavy and static in compari- son with the light, truly moving mobiles of Calder. In Horizontal Spines ( Fig.;

78 1 a) the delicate grace and precision of pure line in the fine steel wires contrasts and combines in constantly changing relationships with the bold dash and vigor of the sheet aluminum shapes.

SUMMARY

An outstanding event of the twentieth century was the revival of sculpture; the re-establishment of its former close relation with architecture; and its alli- ance with the other arts in motivation and in following the swiftly changing pattern of modern civilization. Tremen- dous strides were made in an explora- tion of the true nature of the sculptural art and of the mediums and processes,

780

MODERN ART

[a] Moore. Reclining Figure. Elm. wood, L . 6ft. 1945-46. Bucholz Gallery, New York City. {Bucholz Gallery)

notably direct stonecutting, suitable for its expression; and in this adventure fundament als long lost sight of were re- discovered. Briefly, sculpture followed two lines: one the continuity of the old tradition, which was vivified by the rev- olutionary movements in all the arts; and the other, a break with traditional forms, a concentration upon formal problems which eventuated in abstract and completely nonobjective work. As in painting, form itself became the theme. In a remarkably short time sculpture has evolved from the status of a weak imitation of nature and eclec- ticism to that of a robust, truly sculp- tural conception. “The artistic fruit of man, 3 ’ says Hans Arp, “shows, for the most part, ridiculous ambition

to imitate the appearance of other things. I like nature but not its sub- stitutes . 5 ’ 1

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Agard, Walter R., The New Architectural Sculp- ture, Oxford University Press, 1935 Art in Our Time, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1939

Aumonier, William, ed., Modern Architectural Sculpture, Scribner, 1930 Gasson, Stanley, Sculpture of Today, Studio Publications, 1939

— Some Modem Sculptors, Oxford

University Press, 1928

1 Quoted by Alfred H. Barr, ed., Cubism and Abstract Art, Museum of Modern Art, 1936, p. 13.

TWENTIETH-CENTURY SCULPTURE

78i

Casson, Stanley, XXth Century Sculptors, Oxford University Press, 1930

Cubism and Abstract Art, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1936

Edgerton, Harold E., and Killian, James R., Jr., Flash! Seeing the Unseen by Ultra High-speed Photography, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1939

Epstein, Jacob, The Sculptor Speaks, Doubleday, Doran, 1932

Giedion-Welcker, C., Modern Plastic Art, English version by P. Morton Shand, Zurich, 1937

Grigson, Geoffrey, Henry Moore, Penguin Books, r 943

Martel, Jan, and Martel, Joel, Sculpture, Paris, 1928

Martin, J. L., Nicholson, Ben, and Gabo, N., eds.. Circle: International Survey of Constructive Art, London, 1937

Mestrovic, Ivan, Meltrovic, Zagreb, 1938

Moholy-Nagy, L&szlo, The New Vision, Norton, 1938

Vision in Motion , Paul Theobald,

1947

Moore, Henry S., Henry Moore: Sculpture and Drawings, introd. by Herbert Read, London, 1944

Painting and Sculpture from 16 American Cities, Museum of Modern Art, New York City,

1933

Pound, Ezra, Gaudier-Brzeska, John Lane, 1916 Read, Herbert E., Unit 1 — The Modern Move- ment in English Architecture, Painting and Sculpture, Toronto, 1934 Rewald, John, Maillol, Hyperion Press, 1939 Ritchie, Andrew C., ed., Aristide Maillol, Al- bright Art Gallery, Buffalo, N.Y., 1945 Rogers, Meyric R., Carl Milles, Yale Univer- sity Press, 1940

Sculpture of the Western Hemisphere, International Business Machines Corp., 1942 Valentiner, W. R., Origins of Modern Sculpture, Wittenbom, 1946

Wilenski, Reginald H,, The Meaning of Modem Sculpture, Frederick A. Stokes, 1933 Wilhelm Lehmbruck, Aristide Maillol, Museum of Modem Art, New York City, 1930

THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE

machine aesthetics

Opening image: Pennsylvania Railroad T-1 Locomotive. Baldwin Locomotive Works and Raymond Loewy designers. 1942. (Pennsylvania Railroad)

ANOTHER aspect of the contemporary situation that in its distinctive character is consistent with the trends seen in modern architecture, painting, and sculpture is found in the world of the industrial arts. We cannot help observing the enormous advance, in appearance and in efficiency, in the everyday things of our present world — in “five-and-ten” products, clothing, jewelry, furnishings, silver, glass, tools, automobiles — the list is endless. And it may well be that the twentieth century is witnessing the truth of the prophecy of James Jackson Jarvis in 1864, which bears repetition, in part: “His [the American’s] clipper-ships, fire engines, locomotives, and some of his machinery and tools combine that equilibrium of lines, proportions, and masses, which are among the fundamental causes of abstract beauty . . . and is an indication of what may happen to the rest of his work when he puts into it an equal amount of heart and knowledge.” That time appears to have arrived and to have provided a healthy situation, because here art and the people meet as they do not meet in the seclusion of studios, museums, and collections. And it may well be that future generations will look upon the utilitarian, machine-made products of modern industry as the most forthright expression of the twentieth century, in the first place, because they express “the felt necessities of the time” (Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes), and in the second place, because they display high esthetic quality.

1 For the full quotation see pages 668-69.

THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE 783

Consider for a moment what is per- haps the dominating factor of this cen- tury — the machine. We who have become so accustomed to the machine find it difficult to realize that for thou- sands of years man had been making what he needed for daily living by hand; and that only in the last century has he opened the door upon the new world of technology, with its unbelievable po- tentialities, which is already initiating not only vast social and economic changes but is originating new trends and traditions in the arts. Already we have seen that the machine, with the co-operation of the artist, can produce objects which not only function effec- tively, but which are as satisfying in their own way as the handmade objects of premachine days. “Whenever the final product of the machine is de- signed or determined by anyone sensi- tive to formal values, that product can and does become an abstract work of art in the subtler sense of the term,” 1 Even mass production is not an un- mitigated evil, for it gives the creative faculty wide scope for combining shapes, textures, and colors, which individually might seem commonplace, into novel arrangements.

In its early days, the machine was looked upon merely as a laborsaving device to reproduce quickly and in quantity handmade articles. Unfortu- nately that conception has not been entirely outgrown. For we are still mak- ing electric candles and machine-made hand-wrought silver and iron. The true product of the machine, on the other hand, has an entirely different char- acter from the product made by hand. There can be no translation of the one into the other. In the handmade object appear the warmth of personality, the marks of tools, irregularity of shape, and subtle variations of hue or texture. The

1 Herbert Read, Art and Industry, Harcourt, Brace, 1935, p. 37.

machine, by contrast, is cold and pre- cise, and in its products requires of the observer a response to the beauty of geometry. To be sure, geometry is basi- cally present in all art of all times, though it may not be discernible to the untrained eye.

Just what, then, is the character of machine art, and what is the function of the artist in its creation? Machine art we meet at every turn. Almost imper- ceptibly this new art has permeated our everyday world from chain-store products to B-29s — our advertising, window displays, automobiles, kitchens, packaging, household furnishings, and utensils, to mention but a few. The ma- terials of machine art include not only the old materials, often used in new ways — glass, for example — but an ever increasing number of new ones, notably plastics. Each has its own po- tentiality for color and texture and, technologically, for machine produc- tion. The forms of machine-made ar- ticles seem to bear a relation to the machine itself in their clean lines, often long and unbroken; in their unbroken surfaces made effective by texture; and in their lack of ornament. This form, however, is dependent upon the “equi- librium of lines, proportions, masses,” in fact upon all the elements used in the construction of any organic structure; and also upon function — to do effi- ciently what it is made to do. The word “streamlined” is frequently used in con- nection with machine art. The term has two connotations, one technological, the other esthetic. As applied techno- logically to airplanes, locomotives and trains, automobiles, and ships, where movement is in question, the term is based upon the fact that smooth un- broken surfaces and rounding corners offer least resistance to air currents and thus assure the greatest potentiality for power and speed . By extension of mean- ing, the term is being applied to static

MODERN ART

784

articles which have similar character- istics and in whose simplicity , clean un- broken lines, and smooth surfaces we take intuitive delight.

This machine art, though made in mass production, originates, after all, with the artist who collaborates with business and with the consumer. He must be a technologist, just as the Gothic and the modern builders were and are engineers. For he must know the potentialities of his materials. Does this or that material lend itself to manu- facture by a machine? Does the product function adequately? Will it sell? How will people react to it? It is at this point that artist and people come into closest contact. And where the artist can win popular acceptance — and to a large extent he has done so — he is breaking down that present segregation of the arts from life that has plagued the world for at least a hundred and fifty years. Most people thrill at the sight of our airplanes (Fig. 785A) and “streamliners’* (Fig. 782 a), the superlative curves of our highways, and the sweep of our bridges, which seem to spring so lightly across rivers and canyons. All these combine scientific skill and esthetic quality. Yet people seldom consider them in the same category as buildings, paintings, and sculpture. The reason for their delight, however, is essentially the same.

Basically, the machine arts are in total harmony with modern buildings and abstract or nonobjective painting and sculpture. And to bring them into conformity with all buildings, painting, and sculpture of all ages, which are as fundamentally geometric as they, may not be too difficult a step to take. Above and beyond the character of the form, however, lies its quality. And just as a painting, a building, a statue, or a textile is judged in the last analysis by a quality that is as indefinable as the nature of art itself and yet is felt in-

tuitively by the artist and the spectator, just so any machine-made article is to be judged on the basis of whether the artist, after he has met all the demands of the machine, of function, and of eco- nomics, has been able to infuse his original design with that quality which distinguishes art. It is the same prob- lem that faced the Paleolithic maker of flints. That many of our designers have met this test seems inescapable. They have produced a dynamic art, definitely expressive of contemporary living.

It is in the United States, probably, that machine art has advanced farthest, for here technological development and industrialization have made greatest progress. Some of its roots, however, are found in Europe — in the William Morris movement in England, for ex- ample, which pointed a direction though it still clung to making by hand rather than by machine. In some European countries traditions have been strong and have given way to the machine reluctantly, as in the Scandinavian countries, where handmade and ma- chine-made objects are produced side by side. In fact, contemporary industrial arts are by no means all machine-made. Handcrafts are still pursued in probably much more than half the world: in the Far East, Africa, the South American countries outside the large cities, French Canada, Mexico, and among the In- dians. Even in mechanized countries there is still a luxury demand for hand- made objects, as well as a revival of the folk arts. In many, but by no means all, of the traditional handcrafts is dis- cernible an affinity with machine art in their simplicity, their suppression or elimination of ornament, their sensitive feeling for materials, with a disciplined regard for the idiom of each. A good illustration is found in Swedish arts.

Furnishings exemplify excellently the modern style. Kitchens, bathrooms, and utility rooms reveal striking and satis-

THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE

785

[a] Constellation. Built by Lockheed Aircraft Corp. from Trans World Airline specifications. 1945. {Trans World Airline)

fying innovations in the directions noted. Furniture has become more functional in order to meet, in a direct way, the needs of human living, the need for comfort and relaxation in an age of great stress and strain. It has become simplified, bereft of dust-collecting or- nament; it has utilized new materials .such as glass, plastics, and tubular metal; and in the use of the old, it has shown a regard for intrinsic qualities — in wood, for example, where the artists have sought to make the most of tex- tures, color, and graining, perhaps as a result of lessons from the Japanese and the Scandinavians. In furnishings in general there is evident a desire to at- tain a consistent whole, through an in- tegration of the house itself, its interior space organization, and of the furniture, textiles, and other contributing articles; to select and relate all the elements in? volved so as to bring about a unity with variety of spaces, shapes, colors, and

textures.

Textiles, so important in furnishings, are using such new materials as the

synthetic and glass fibers, and new weaving techniques, as well as reviving older or exotic processes, such as the batik and block printing of the Far East. Traditionalism and modernism often find common ground. Swedish textiles are an example* For traditional Swedish hangings and rugs, in the aus- tere simplicity of their conventionalized forms and color patterns — often in several tones of one hue — are strikingly modern in style. Indeed the forms of this revived art are so in harmony in spirit and in form with the modern that the transition, the transformation, from the former to the latter, almost seems accomplished without a realization that the transformation is taking place.

In ceramics, the increased use of terra cotta and glazed tiles in the build- ing art has created a demand for fabrics, both molded and painted, of a thor- oughly architectural design. With pot- tery in the round there is a tendency away from realistically painted decora- tion — pictures of landscapes or uni- versity buildings — toward forms that

MODERN ART

786

depend upon shape, proportions, color, and texture for their effects and are architectural in their simplicity, and toward true clay shapes, often with a one-color glaze filled with subtle modu- lations. Experiments are producing high-fired products, porcelain and stoneware, of unusually simple shapes and textures. Wherever painted decora- tion is used the work tends toward a decorative pattern following construc- tional lines and the same decorative fitness that is found in Persian and Chinese wares. At the same time a considerable amount of small ceramic sculpture is being produced that is imaginative, freely naturalistic, or ab- stract, and which provides needed ac- cents of color and texture.

The field of the metalworkers has been greatly enlarged by the introduc- tion of new materials and by new tech- nical processes for working them: silver, pewter, inlaid and patined brass and copper, iron, aluminum, lead, bronze, zinc, and stainless steel. Here are wide possibilities for selection of a material suitable to the project in hand, for treatment to secure surface variations, and for combinations of materials to produce contrasts of color and texture.

An enormous expansion in the use of glass marks the twentieth century, partly because of new demands for it in building and furnishings and partly because of a wider use for small every- day objects. Huge quantities of both opaque and transparent glass are to be used for industrial and also for do- mestic buildings, and modern technical processes have enabled builders to se- cure an infinite variety of effects of color and texture for decorative purposes. Ac- cording to its function, glass can be made delicately thin or massively thick, of meticulously uniform texture or bub- bled, streaked, sand-blasted, acid-en- graved, or colored within an infinite range of hues. True window-making, as

distinguished from pictures painted on glass and inserted in window openings, has returned since its eclipse of more than three centuries because of its un- fortunate attempt to transmute itself into the painting medium. The best windows now are built on the practices of the window-makei's of Chartres: a mosaic made by leading together pieces of glass, generally colored through and through or so treated by mechanical processes that the desired effect of color and texture can be secured. This art still finds a wide use in church-building, and at times clings to the representative, symbolic design of the medieval win- dows, as in the windows at Princeton Chapel and in the rose of St. John the Divine (New York City) by Charles J. Connick. Or at times it takes on a purely abstract form, as in the windows of the church at Le Rainey, and in its uses in secular buildings. In both uses, how- ever, the ultimate effect results from the manipulation of the material ac«  cording to its own capacities and lim- itations. In industrial buildings such windows or panels are in increasing demand both for decoration and for advertising, for lettering is in perfect harmony with its principles of design.

In making small objects of glass there is a similar variety of processes for work- ing the medium. It can be blown; molded or pressed; and cut with grind- ing and polishing for a finish. Pre- eminent work consists of individual pieces whose form is inherent in the medium and in a suitable process of working it. A bottle or a jar by Marinot of France, for example, is likely to be an austere massive geometric shape with a bubbly texture and intense color ac- cent, or possibly a bit of severely re- strained conventional incising. This glass, however, is made for a limited few, is a luxury item, as is the Steuben glass for which eminent artists (paint- ers and sculptors included) have ere-

THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE

787

[a] Herbert Bayer. Weakness Into Strength. Advertising design. Photo- montage , water color , and air brush. 1941. ( Con- tainer Corporation of America )

ated designs — an indication of the breakdown of specialization.

Mention at least should be made of bookmaking, of the art that sees the entire book as a unit. Typography, illus- tration, format, binding — each exists not as a separate unit but as one ele- ment of a complete design. The wood- cut is again finding wider use as the kind of illustration that harmonizes best with the printed page. Experimentation is going on in cutting new type faces in which a severe simplicity is evident.

An art that has evolved from the exigencies of the modern industrial world is advertising design, a new graphic art that under the stimulation of a definite function is reaching in our best advertising a high quality of force- ful pattern which contributes as much

to the driving power as the content of the words used- — perhaps even more (Fig. 787A).

SUMMART

The pattern of modern art seen in architecture, sculpture, and painting appears equally in those arts which have changed from hand to machine tech- nique. Strikingly noticeable in this pat- tern is the effort to get down to funda- mentals; an insistence upon adequate functioning; a keen regard for materials and the idiom of each; a forthright di- rectness of approach which results in clear, concise forms — all of which bears a direct or indirect relation to science and the machine. Thus all the arts are moving on a wide front, each faithful

MODERN ART

788

to its own function and material, but with a unity that predicates the emer- gence of a twentieth-century modern style. Two elements in the contempo- rary situation bear a large responsibility. In the first place, we are living in an age of science and technology, and conse- quently an age of the machine, to whose swift advances of only a century and a half we have not yet made complete ad- justment. In the second place, through scientific advances in transportation and communication, the world has been so interknit that it has become in reality one world, in which advanced, deca- dent, and primitive cultures, highly di- versified in ideology and art forms, have been brought together, head on. The result is destined to be confusion, with old ways and old forms in conflict with new ways and new forms.

The evolution of a culture is slow; it progresses by trial and error. Thus we find experimentation on every hand; in literature, music, drama, and dance as well as in the visual arts. Artists are broadening their scope, breaking down the barriers of specialization; painters are designing glass and ceramics and stage settings; and all are designing for the machine arts. Experiments in ab- stract space design are applicable equally to architecture, painting, sculp- ture, and the machine arts. Specialism is giving way to broader outlooks; and the attitude toward the past and to hitherto unknown or neglected styles has changed radically. Never have these arts been studied so intensively, but now with a shift of emphasis from ar- chaeology, eclecticism, and matters of fact to esthetic worth and the power of the arts to teach invaluable lessons in the creation of form. Thus, the artist has profited greatly and has come to realize that what he has hitherto con- sidered quaint and exotic is great art, only in a different dialect, frequently a more powerful dialect, than his own.

In all this confusion and experimenta- tion, we are witnessing the slow death of the Renaissance and the birth of a new age. What form it will eventually assume, we do not know. We only know that it is on the way, and is moving at a pace never before equaled. The alert artist, so often prophetic, and the onlooker alike have eyed the past and looked at the present and have come to the realization that tremendous changes are in the making; and their attitude toward these changes might well be ex- pressed by a prophetic attitude of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes of a century ago C 1 835) : “To Oliver, his father’s news meant merely that the world was mov- ing. Oliver desired not to censure or impede, but to move with it.” 1

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Art in Progress , Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1944

Bayer, Herbert, Gropius, Walter, and Gropius, Ise, eds., Bauhaus, igip-igs8, Museum of Modern Art, New York City, 1938 Chase, Stuart, Men and Machines, Macmillan, 1937

Faulkner, Ray, Ziegfeld, Edwin, and Hill, Gerald, Art Today, Holt, 1941 Forsyth, Gordon. M., 20th Century Ceramics, Studio Publications, 1936

Geddes, Norman B., Horizons, Little, Brown, 1 93 2

Giedion, Siegfried, Mechanization Takes Command, Oxford University Press, 1948 Holme, Geoffrey, Industrial Design and the Future, Studio Publications, 1934 Janneau, Guillaume, Modern Glass, Studio Publications, 1931

Johnson, Philip, Machine Art, foreword by Alfred H. Barr, Jr., Museum of Modern Art, New York City, and Norton, 1934 Kahn, Ely J., Design in Art and Industry, Scribner, 1935

Kiesler, Frederick, Contemporary Art Applied to the Store and Its Display, Brentano’s, 1930 Langdon, William C., Everyday Things in American Life, Scribner, 1941

1 Catherine D. Bowen, Yankee from Olympus: Justice Holmes and His Family, Little, Brown, 1944, p. 69.

THE ARTS OF THE MACHINE

Ley son. Burr W., Plastics in the World of Tomorrow, Dutton, 1944

Mansperger, Dale E., and Pepper, Carson W., Plastics; Problems and Processes, International Textbook Press, 1938

Moholy-Nagy, L&szlo, The Mew Vision, Norton, I93 8

— Vision in Motion, Paul Theobald,

1947

Mumford, Lewis, Technics and Civilization, Har- court, Brace, 1934

Plastes (pseud.), Plastics in Industry, Chemical Publishing Co., 1941

Read, Herbert E., Art and Industry, Harcourt, Brace, 1935

789

Richards, Charles R., Art in Industry, Macmillan, 1929

Schoen, Max, ed., The Enjoyment of the Arts, Philosophical Library, 1944

Skelley, Mrs. Leloise D., Modern Fine Glass, Richard R. Smith, 1937

Stiles, Helen E., Pottery in the United States, Dutton, 1941

Teague, Walter D., Design This Day, Harcourt, Brace, 1940

Train, Arthur K., The Story of Everyday Things, Harper, 1941

Waugh, Sidney, Modern Glass, Steuben Glass, 1939

See also the General Bibliography, pp. 79 1 -92.

APPENDIX

General Bibliography

General Histories

Abbot, E. R., The Great Painters, Harcourt, Brace, 1927

Ackerman, Phyllis, Tapestry, the Mirror of Civiliza- tion, Oxford University Press, 1933 American Institute of Architects, The Significance of the Fine Arts, new ed., Marshall Jones,

1923

Buckley, Wilfred, Rackham, Bernard, and Hu- dig, Ferrand, European Glass, London, 1926 Chase, G. H., and Post, C. R., History of Sculp- ture, Harper, 1924

Dillon, Edward, Glass, Putnam, 1907 Faure, Elie, History of Art, tr. by Walter Pach, 5 vols., Harper, 1921-30 Fletcher, Sir B. F., History of Architecture on the Comparative Method, 9th ed., Scribner, 1931 Gardner, J. S., Ironwork, rev. by W. W. Watts, 4th ed., 2 vols., Victoria and Albert Mu- seum, London, 1927-36 Gilman, Roger, Great Styles of Interior Architec- ture, Harper, 1924

Glazier, Richard, A Manual of Historic Ornament, 4th ed. rev., Scribner, 1926 Hamlin, A. D. F., History of Ornament, 2 vols., Century, 1923

Herbert, J. A., Illuminated Manuscripts, Putnam,

1911

Hind, A. M., History of Engraving and Etching, Houghton Mifflin, 1923

— An Introduction to a History of Wood-

cuts, 2 vols., Houghton Mifflin, 1935 Jones, E. A., Old Silver of Europe & America from Early Times to the Nineteenth Century, Lippin- cott, 1928

Kimball, S. F., and Edgell, G. H., History of Architecture, Harper, 1918 Magonigle, H. V. B., The Nature, Practice , and History of Art, Scribner, 1924 Maskell, Alfred, Ivories, Putnam, 1905

- — — — Wood Sculpture, Putnam, 1911

Moore, N. H., Old Glass, European and American, Stokes, 1924

Mumford, Lewis, Technics and Civilization, Har- court, Brace, 1934

Pijoan Jose, History of Art, tr. by Ralph L. Roys, 3 vols., Harper, 1927 Pollard, A. W., Fine Books, Putnam, 19x2

Post, C. R., History of European and American Sculpture, 2 vols.. Harvard University Press, 1921

Rindge, A. M., Sculpture, Harcourt, Brace, 1929 Robb, David M., and Garrison, J. J., Art in the Western World, rev. ed., Harper, 1942 Statham, H. H., A Short Critical History of Architecture, Scribner, 1912 Stites, Raymond S., The Arts and Man, McGraw- Hill, 1940

Triggs, H. I., Garden Craft in Europe, Scribner,

1913

Technique and Design

Batchelder, E. A., Design in Theory and Practice, Macmillan, 19x0

Best-Maugard, Adolfo, A Method for Creative Design, Knopf, 1926

Birren, Faber, Functional Color, Crimson Press, 1937

Blake, Vernon, The Art and Craft of Drawing, Oxford University Press, 1927 Casson, Stanley, The Technique of Early Greek Sculpture, Oxford University Press, 1933 Doerner, Max, The Materials of the Artist and Their Use in Painting, Harcourt, Brace, 1934 Franklin, Christine (Ladd), Colour and Colour Theories, Harcourt, Brace, 1929 Ghyka, Matila, The Geometry of Art and Life , Sheed & Ward, 1946

Gill, Eric, Sculpture, Ditchling, Sussex, England,

1925

Holmes, Sir C. J., A Grammar of the Arts, Mac-millan, 1932

Notes on the Science of Picture-Making,

new ed., Stokes, 1928

Laurie, A. P., The Materials of the Painted s Craft, Iippincott, 191 1

— — — The Painter’s Methods and Materials,

Iippincott, 1926

Moreau- Vauthier, Charles, The Technique of Painting, Putnam, 1912

Petrina, John, Art Work; How Produced, How Reproduced, Pitman, 1934 Phillipps, L. M., Form and Colour, Scribner, 1915 Pope, Arthur, An Introduction to the Language of Drawing and Painting, 2 vols., Harvard University Press, 1929

APPENDIX

792

Reath, N. A., The Weaves of Hand-Loom Fabrics, Pennsylvania Museum, 1927 Robins, W. P., The Etching Craft, Dodd, Mead,

1923

Ross, D. W., On Drawing and Painting, Houghton Mifflin, 1912

— — A Theory of Pure Design, Houghton

Mifflin, 1907

Sargent, Walter, The Enjoyment and Use of Color, Scribner, 1923

Weitenkampf, Frank, How to Appreciate Prints, new ed. rev., Scribner, 1932

Esthetics and Criticism

Barnes, Albert C., The Art in Painting, 3d ed.

rev., Harcourt, Brace, 1937 Bell, Clive, Art, Stokes, 1924 Blake, Vernon, Relation in Art, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1925

Brown, G. B., The Fine Arts, 4th ed., London, 1920

Buermeyer, Laurence, The Aesthetic Experience, Barnes Foundation, 1924 Groce, Benedetto, The Essence of Aesthetic, London, 1921

Dewey, John, Art as Experience, Minton Balch, 1934

Dudley, Louise, andFaricy, Austin, The Humani- ties, McGraw-Hill, 1940 Edman, Irwin, The World, the Arts and the Artist, Norton, 1928

Ellis, Havelock, The Dance of Life, Houghton Mifflin, 1923

Flaccus, L, W., The Spirit and Substance of Art, Crofts, 1926

Fry, Roger E., Vision and Design, Brentano’s,

1924

Transformations, Brentano’s, 1927

Gill, Eric, Beauty Looks after Herself, Sheed & Ward, 1933

Goldwater, Robert, and Treves, Marco, eds., Artists on Art, Pantheon Books, 1945 Hamlin, T, F., The Enjoyment of Architecture, Scribner, 1921

Hildebrand, Adolf, The Problem of Form in Paint- ing and Sculpture, Stechert, 1907

Huneker, J. G., Promenades of an Impressionist, Scribner, 1910

Kandinsky, Wassily, The Art of Spiritual Harmony, tr. by M. T. H. Sadler, Houghton Mifflin, 1914

Langfield, H. S., The Aesthetic Attitude, Harcourt, Brace, 1920

Lethaby, W. R., Form in Civilization, Oxford University Press, 1922

Lewisohn, Ludwig, ed., A Modern Book of Criti- cism, Modern Library, Boni & Liveright, I 9 I 9

McMahon, A. P., The Meaning of Art, Norton, 1930

Maritain, Jacques, Art and Scholasticism, Scribner, 193°

Mather, Frank J., Jr., Estimates in Art, Scribner, 19x6

Estimates in Art; Series II, Holt,

I93t

Munro, Thomas, Scientific Method in Aesthetics, Norton, 1928

Neuhaus, Eugen, The Appreciation of Art, Ginn,

1924

Ogden, C. K., Richards, I. A., and Wood, J. E. H., The Foundations of Aesthetics, London, 1922

Opdyke, H. G., Art and Nature Appreciation, Macmillan, 1933

Parker, De W. H., Analysis of Art, Yale Uni- versity Press, ig26

Pearson, R. M., Experiencing Pictures, Harcourt, Brace, 1932

Phillips, Duncan, The Artist Sees Differently , 2 vols., Weyhe, 1931

Santayana, George, The Life of Reason, 2d ed., Scribner, 1922

— — — The Sense of Beauty, Scribner, 1896

Scott, Geoffrey, The Architecture of Humanism, 2d ed. rev., Scribner, X924

Sir&i, Osvald, Essentials in Art, Lane, 1920

Smith, S. G. K,, Art and Common Sense, London, 1932

Wolfflin, Heinrich, Principles of Art History, Holt, 1932

Worringer, Wilhelm, Form in Gothic, tr. by Herbert Read, London, 1927

Glossary of Technical Terms

(The references to figure numbers are not exhaustive.)

Abacus. A flat block forming the upper member of the capital of a column. Fig. i25Aa.

Ambulatory. A passageway. It may be outside, as in a cloister ( see Cloister) or inside; used es- pecially of the passageway around the chevet. Fig. 338^ (p. 339).

Amphora. A jar with two handles for general storage purposes. Figs. 146A, 150A.

Apse. The recess, usually semicircular, at the end of a Roman basilica, or of a Christian church. Figs. 1 78A, 251 A, 338AI . In a Gothic cathedral, the semicircular or polygonal pro- jecting end of the choir. Figs. 338A4, 335A.

Aqueduct. A channel for conducting water; fre- quently supported by arches. Fig. 1 74D.

Arabesque. Literally, like the Arabian. Strictly, a Muhammadan decorative motif “composed of gracefully curving scrolls, crossed or inter- laced, and bearing stylized motifs suggesting a leaf or flower” (Dimand). Figs. 288s, 292A, 293A. By extension, any kind of fanciful orna- ment with flowing lines, foliage, fruit, flowers, or figures combined or interwoven.

Arcade. A series of arches supported on piers or columns. Figs. i8oa, 255A.

Arch. A constructional device to span an open- ing; a true arch is curved in shape, and made of wedge-shaped blocks (voussoirs) . Figs. 9A, 9 1 A, i8oa, 336A, 438A.

Architrave. The lintel or lowest division of the entablature. Fig. i25Aa.

Atrium. The court of a Roman house, near the entrance and partly open to the sky. Fig. 1 85A. The open court in front of a Christian basilica. Figs. 251A, 3 1 6a.

Aureole. A frame or halo around the figure of a sacred personage. Fig. 321 A.

Baldacchino (baldachin). In Italy, a canopy on four columns frequently built over an altar. Fig. 433A.

Barrel vault. See Vault.

Basilica. In Roman architecture, a public build- ing for assemblies, especially tribunals, rec- tangular in plan, with a central nave termi- nating in an apse. Fig. 178A. In Christian architecture, an early church somewhat re- sembling the Roman basilica; usually entered through an atrium. Figs. 251A-255A.

Batter. The inward slope of a wall, often almost imperceptible. Fig. 62A.

Bay. A compartment that serves as a unit of division in a building. In a Gothic cathedral the transverse arches and adjacent piers of the arcade divide the building into bays, the design of which is an architectural unit re- peated in each bay. Fig. 338A.

Blind arcade (wall arcade). An arcade, applied to a wall surface, with no actual openings, to serve as a decoration. Fig. 31 8a.

Bottega. A shop. The studio-shop of an Italian artist. Pp. 432, 520.

Brocaded textile. A fabric in which additional weft threads are used to enrich the surface, fre- quently by the introduction of gold and silver. Fig. 523A.

Broken color. See Divisionism.

Broken pediment. A pediment in which the cornice is broken at the apex. Figs. 529A, 590A.

Buttress. A masonry support to counterbalance the lateral thrust of an arch or vault, A pier buttress is a solid mass of masonry. A flying buttress is an arch or series of arches that carry the thrust over the aisles to the solid buttresses. Figs. 335A, 340A, 350A.

Cabriole. In furniture, a curved leg ending in an ornamental foot, frequent in Queen Anne and Chippendale styles.

Campanile. Italian word for a bell tower. Some- times it is free-standing; sometimes it is a part of the building. Figs. 254A, 439A.

Capital. The upper member of a column, usually decorated, that serves as a transition from the shaft to the lintel. Fig. i25Aa.

Cartoon. A preliminary drawing for a painting.

Caryatid. A draped female figure that serves, like a column, as a support. Fig. 127A.

Cassone. A large chest. An important piece of Italian furniture. P. 440, note 1 .

Celia. The inclosed chamber, the essential feature of a classical temple, in which usually stood the cult statue. Fig, 123A.

Centering. A wooden framework to hold an arch, or vault, during its construction until, when complete, it becomes self-supporting.

Ceramics (keramics). A general term for the art

■■■■ of pottery.

Chalice. A cup or goblet, especially that used in the sacraments of the Church. Figs. 27m, 33 OA -

Chamfer. To cut off a square angle; to bevel.

APPENDIX

794

Champlevi enamel . A process of enameling in which the design is cut out of a metal plate, leaving thin raised lines that correspond to the cloisons in the cloisonn6 process, to hold the enamel. P. 23; Fig. 359A.

Chasing. Ornamentation of a metal surface by embossing or cutting away parts. Fig. 521 a.

Chevet. The term applied to the apse of a cathe- dral, together with its ambulatories and apsidal chapels. Fig. 338A4.

Chevron. A zigzag or V-shaped motif of decora- tion.

Chiaroscuro. Literally, clear-obscure. The treat- ment of light and dark in a work of art.

Chiton. A Greek tunic, the essential and often only garment of both men and women, the other being the mantle (see Himation). There were two kinds of tunics, the Doric and Ionic. The Doric was a rectangular piece of woolen stuff, usually folded Over at the top, wrapped about the body and left open at the left side, sleeveless, fastened on the shoulders with buckles, and girdled. Fig. 141A. The Ionic was longer, more voluminous, of soft goods such as cotton or linen, and often caught at intervals by fastenings to form sleeves. Fig. 143B.

Choir. The space separated from the rest of the church by a screen and reserved for the clergy and choir. In the Gothic cathedral it occupies the nave between the crossing and the apse. Fig. 338A.

Choir stalls. Seats for the clergy and choristers, usually ranged along the sides of the choir.

Ciborium. A canopy, usually standing free and supported on four columns, erected over an altar {see Baldacchino) . Fig. 433A. Also a covered cup used in the sacraments of the Church.

Cire-perdue process. Literally the “wax-lost” pro- cess. A method of bronze casting by which the wax in which the figure is modeled is melted away and the space thus left filled with mol- ten bronze. Pp. 12; 521, note 1,

Clerestory. That part of a building which rises above the roofs of the other parts and whose walls contain openings for lighting. Figs. 52c, 64A, 178A, 251A, 340A, 345A.

Cloison. Literally, a partition. A metal wire or narrow strip, usually gold, soldered to a metal base to form cells for holding enamel. P. 23.

Cloisonni enamel. A process of enameling in which strips of metal (cloisons) are soldered to a base, forming cells into which the enamel is poured and fused. P. 23; Figs. 271A, 329A.

Cloister. A court, usually with covered ambula- tories on the sides. Figs. 318B, 352A.

Clustered pier. See Compound pier.

Codex. A manuscript in the form of a volume with pages bound together. P. 266, note 1.

Coffer. A sunken ornamental panel in a soffit, vault, or ceiling. Fig. 176A, 253A.

Coin type. The pattern or design used to decorate a coin.

Collage. A composition made by pasting together various materials, such as newspaper, wall- paper, printed text and illustrations, photo- graphs, cloth, etc. Sometimes used inter- changeably with “montage,” which refers specif- ically to combinations of photographs. P. 734.

Colonnade. A series or range of columns, usually spanned by lintels. Fig. 1 i8a.

Colonnette. A small column. Fig. 449B.

Colophon. An inscription at the end of a book or manuscript which gives the title, possibly the name of the writer or illustrator, the place of writing, and the date — information now placed on the title page.

Column. A circular weight-carrying member, consisting of a base (sometimes omitted), a shaft, and a capital. Fig. 125A.

Compound or clustered pier. A pier composed of a group or cluster of members from each of which springs one or more ribs of the vaulting. Especially characteristic of Gothic architec- ture. Figs. 317A, 337A.

Console. A bracket, or corbel, usually S-shaped. Fig. 603B.

Cool color. Blue and the hues that approach blue, blue-green, and blue violet.

Corbel. A projecting stone used as a support.

Corbel table. A projecting course of masonry sup- ported by corbels, frequently connected by arches. Fig. 31 6a.

Corbeled arch. A constructional device for span- ning an opening by projecting successive courses of masonry inward until the opening is closed. Figs. 9A, iioa and b, 232 a. Not a true arch (see Arch) .

Comice. The projecting crowning member of the entablature. Also used for any crowning projection. Fig. 12 5 a.

Cramp. A device, usually metal, to hold together blocks of stone. Fig. 122 A.

Crater (krater). A large bowl for mixing wine and water, the usual beverage of the Greeks. Figs. 147c, 149B.

Crocket. A projecting foliate ornament that decorates a pinnacle, gable, buttress, or spire. Its purpose is to break a long line against the sky. Fig. 346Ab.

Cromlech. A circle of monoliths. Fig. 41A.

Crossing. The space in a cruciform church where the nave and transept intersect. Fig. 338A.

Crown of an arch or vault. The topmost part of an arch or vault.

Cuneiform. Literally, wedge-shaped. A system of writing, used in Babylonia-Assyria, in which the characters were wedge-shaped. Figs. 86a, 88a.

GLOSSARY

Custodia. An elaborate tabernacle, usually archi- tectural in design, for the host. Fig. 559A.

Cylix (kylix). A Greek drinking cup. Figs. 146B, 151A.

Dado. A horizontal band, often decorated, at the base of a wall or pedestal.

Damascene. To inlay metal with another kind of metal or other material for decorative pur- poses. Fig. 306A.

Dentils. Small toothlike projecting blocks in the molding of a cornice. Figs. 125A, 440A, 445 s.

Diptych. Consisting of two leaves. A Roman two- hinged writing tablet; used also for com- memorative purposes by the Christian Church.

Divisionism or broken color. The method of juxta- posing small strokes of pure color directly upon the canvas for the eye to mix at a distance rather than mixing the colors first upon the palette. A method practiced by Constable, Turner, and Delacroix, and per- fected by the French impressionists. The principle was used also by the twelfth-cen- tury glassworkers.

Dolmen. Several large stones capped with a covering slab.

Donjon. A massive tower forming the stronghold of a medieval castle.

Dowel. A wooden or metallic pin to hold together two pieces of stone or other material. Fig. i22Aa.

Drum. The circular wall which supports a dome. Figs. 177A, 265A, 277A. The circular stones of which a built shaft is made. Fig. i22Ab.

Echinus. Literally a sea urchin. The convex mem- ber of a capital, somewhat resembling a sea urchin, that supports the abacus. Fig. i25Aa.

Emboss. To ornament a surface with raised work.

Enamel. See Champleve, Cloisonne.

Encaustic. Painting by means of wax with which colors are combined, and which is afterwards fused with hot irons, thus fixing the colors. Fig. 759A.

Engaged column. A columnlike member forming part of the wall and projecting more or less from it. Figs. 175 Aj 1 8oa, 1 81 a.

Engraving. The process of incising a design upon a substance with a sharp instrument (see Incising) . The process of incising a design upon a copper plate from which a printed impres- sion can be made. Also the impression made from such a plate. Fig. 550A.

Entablature. The part of a building of lintel con- struction between the capitals of the columns and the roof or upper story. Fig. 125A.

Entasis. A slight, almost imperceptible, curva- ture in the shaft of a column. Fig. i25Aa,

Etching. The process of engraving a design upon

a copper plate, by means of an acid or mordant, from which a printed impression can be taken. Also the impression from a plate so made. Fig. 580A.

Fagade. The front of a building, usually the principal front but also applied to the other sides when they are given emphasis by architectural treatment.

Faience. From Faenza, in Italy, a center for the manufacture of majolica; restricted in mean- ing by some authors to tin-glazed pottery ex- cept porcelain; used by others as a general term for all kinds of glazed earthenware.

Fan vaulting. A development of lierne vaulting, found in English Perpendicular Gothic, in which the ribs radiate from the impost in such a way that they form an inverted cone. Fig. 355A.

Fenestration. Strictly, the arrangement of the windows in a building; by extension, the arrangement of all the openings (windows, doors, arcades) in architectural design.

Ferro-concrete. See Reinforced concrete.

Filigree. Delicate and intricate metallic orna- ment made of fine wire. Fig. 33OA,

Finial. A knoblike ornament, usually with a foliate design, in which a pinnacle terminates. Fig. 346AC.

Flamboyant. Meaning flamelike, applied to the late Gothic style in which the restless type of decoration is based upon wavy lines and the ogee arch. Figs. 350B, 351A.

Flush. On the same level or plane as the ad- joining surfaces.

Flute (fluting). Vertical channeling, usually semicircular. Used principally on columns and pilasters. Figs. ii8a, 126A, 159A, I75A, 454A.

Flying buttress. See Buttress.

Fresco. Painting on freshly spread moist plaster. The pigments are mixed with water and become chemically incorporated with the plaster. Also a painting so executed. Figs. 473A-477A, 757 A > 758 a.

Fret or meander. An ornament consisting of inter- locking angular motifs. Frequently in bands but also covering surfaces. Figs. 148B, 21 1 A and b. ■

Gargoyle. A waterspout, usually carved or in the form of a grotesque, to throw the water from the gutters away from the walls. Figs. 346Af, 347A..

Genre. Style or subject matter dealing realisti- cally with scenes from everyday life. Figs. 163A and B, 581A and b, 607A, 694A.

Gesso. Prepared plaster mixed with a binding material, used as a ground for painting or for relief. Fig. 635A.

APPENDIX

796

Glaze • A vitreous coating applied to the surface of pottery to make it impervious and for decorative purposes.

Gopura. In Hindu architecture, the high elab- orate gateway of the southern Indian temples. Figs. 365A, 366c.

Gouache, Opaque watercolor, or a picture painted in this medium. Figs. 304A, 358A.

Granulation. In jewelry a method of ornamenting, in which small grains of metal, usually gold, are soldered to a flat surface.

Greek cross. A cross consisting of two equal bars meeting at right angles.

Grille. A grating, usually of iron, for protection with visibility. Fig. 440B.

Groin. The edge formed by the intersection of two vaults. Fig. 174A.

Groin vault. See Vault.

Guilloche. An ornament consisting of interlacing curving bands.

Hammer-beam ceiling. An English Gothic open timber ceiling. Fig. 586A.

Haunch. The part of an arch, from a third to two-thirds the distance from the spring to the crown, where the lateral thrust is most strongly exerted.

Hieroglyphs or hieroglyphics. A system of writing derived from picture writing, but also pho- netic, used by the ancient Egyptians. By exten- sion, applied to other writings also, such as the Mayan. Figs. 48A, 6ob, 68a, 69A, 72A, 74A, 236B, 237A and b.

Himation. A Greek mantle worn by men and women over the tunic and draped in various ways. Figs. 144A, 156A.

Historiated. Ornamented with figures that have a representational or narrative element, such as plants, animals, or human figures, in dis- tinction from purely decorative elements. Historiated initial letters were a popular form of manuscript decoration in the Middle Ages. Fig. 523B.

Hue. The name of a color. The primary hues are blue, red, and yellow, which, together with green, orange, and violet, form the chief colors of the spectrum. Between these lie the intermediates which partake of the qualifica- tions of both adjacent hues: red-orange, yellow-orange, yellow-green, blue-green, blue- violet, and red-violet. Fig. 7A.

1 Hypostyle hall. A hall whose roof is supported by columns. Applied to the colonnaded hall of the Egyptian pylon temple. Figs. 61 A, 64A.

Jeon. Literally, a portrait or image. Used es- pecially in the Greek Church for the panels containing representations of sacred per- sonages. Fig. 283A.

[conostasis. In East Christian churches, a screen

or partition, with doors and many tiers of icons, that separates the sanctuary from the main body of the church. Fig. 275A.

Illumination. To decorate with gold, silver, and bright color, especially the initial letters of a manuscript. An illuminated manuscript may or may not contain miniatures. Fig. 328A.

Impost. The architectural member from which an arch springs.

Incising. To cut into a surface with a sharp in- strument. A method of decoration, especially on metal and pottery. Figs. 89B, 383A.

Intaglio. A design sunk below the surface so that an impression made from it is in relief. Used especially on gems, seals, and dies for coins. Also applied to an object so decorated. Figs. 87A, 155A.

Intercolumniation. The space between the columns in a colonnade.

Isocephaly. Literally, heads equal or on a level. A principle by which natural proportion is distorted so as to bring all the objects in a composition to an equal height for the pur- pose of design. Figs. 142A, 476A.

Kakemono. A Chinese or Japanese painting in the form of a hanging, not framed, but mounted on brocade.

Keystone. The uppermost voussoir in an arch {see Voussoir). Fig. 9AC.

Kiln. An oven in which pottery is baked to harden it and to fuse the glazes.

Lacquer. A varnish containing lac; or a hard varnish obtained from the sap of the lacquer tree, Rhus vemicifera, by making incisions in the bark. The latter is the Chinese and Japanese lacquer. Pp. 395-96.

Lantern. A small structure that crowns a dome, turret, or roof with openings for lighting, though frequently the purpose of the lantern is design only. Figs. 439A, 441B, 461A, 588A.

Latin cross. A cross consisting of two bars meeting at right angles, the lower arm longer than the others.

Lieme. A short cross rib inserted between the main ribs of a vaulting. Fig. 354A.

Lintel. A horizontal beam of any material to span an opening. Fig. gAa.

Lithograph. The impression of a design made on a certain kind of stone by means of a greasy pencil or crayon. P. 21; Fig. 678A.

Loggia. A gallery that has an open arcade or colonnade on one side. Fig. 442A.

Lunette. Literally, litde or half moon. Having the shape of a crescent or half-moon; es- pecially a wall space over an arched door or window. Figs. 258A, 454A.

Luster. A thin glaze, usually metallic, sometimes used on pottery to produce a rich, often

GLOSSARY

iridescent, color when it catches the light. Found especially in Persian wares, and in Spanish and Italian majolica. Fig. 307B.

Majolica. Specifically, a kind of Italian pottery coated with a whitish tin enamel, brilliantly painted and often lustered. Fig. 520A. Makimono. A Chinese or Japanese painting in the form of a long scroll. Fig. 380A. Mandapam. In Hindu architecture, an assembly hall attached to a temple. Figs. 364A, 366A. Mastaba. Literally, a bench. A bench-shaped Egyptian tomb. Fig. 4.6A.

Medallion. A decorative, medal-shaped panel, usually enclosing a figure, portrait, or orna- ment. Figs. 273A, 301c, 308A, 520A, 555A. Medium. The vehicle or liquid '-with which pig- ment is mixed, such as water, egg, oil, wax. In a more general sense, the substance, ma- terial, or agency through which an artist ex- presses his idea, such as stone, pigment, metal, wood, enamel, words, tones, movements. Megaron. The large central hall of an Aegean house.

Menhir. Monoliths, uncut or roughly cut, stand- ing singly or in rows or circles. Fig. 41 a. Metope. The space between two triglyphs in a Doric frieze. Fig. i25Aa.

Mihrab. The niche in a mosque which indicates the direction of Mecca. Figs. 287A, 291 a. Minaret. A tall slender tower belonging to a mosque, with one or more balconies from which the summons to prayer is chanted. Figs. 288a, 290A, 371B.

Miniature. A small picture illustrating a manu- script. Derived from the Latin verb miniare, to decorate with vermilion. By extension, any small portrait, usually on ivory or porcelain, or anything small. Figs. 304A, 357A, 358A. Molding. An architectural term for a continuous narrow surface, either projecting or recessed, plain or ornamented, whose purpose is to break up a surface, to accent, or to decorate by means of the light and shade it pro- • duces.

Monolith. A single stone block, large in size. Montage. A composition made by fitting together parts of various photographs. Also motion, picture effects produced by superimposing images (see Collage) .

Mosaic. A surface or decoration made of small pieces of stone or glass (tesserae) set in cement. Figs. 255A and b, 256A, 257A, 258A. Mosque (masjid). A Muslim place of worship.

Figs. 285A, 287A, 288A, 290A, 302A.

Mudejar. A Muslim who, though subject to a Christian ruler, still retains his religion, laws, and customs. By extension, the Moorish- influenced art of Spain and the Spanish colonies. Figs. 561 a, 623A.

797

Mullion. A vertical bar that separates a window into more than one light. Figs. 354A, 443A.

Narthex. A porch, generally colonnaded or arcaded, forming the vestibule of a church. Fig. 25'iAe.

Nave. From navis, ship, an early symbol of the Church. The main part of a church, between the chief entrance and the chancel, and separated from the aisles, if present, by piers. Figs. 25 1 Aa, 252A, 338Aa, 345A.

Obverse of a coin or medal. The side of a coin or medal that bears the principal type or in- scription. The opposite side is the reverse.

Ogee. A molding having a double or S-shaped curve. An arch of this form. Figs. 350B, 351A.

Order. In classical architecture, the unit of de- sign of the column and entablature. Fig. 125 a. See also Superimposed order.

Oriel. A window projecting from the face of the wall. Fig. 549A,

Pagoda. In China and Japan, a tower of several stories, usually associated with a temple or monastery. Fig. 214A.

Patina. An incrustation that forms on bronze through chemical action. The term is also applied to incrustation on other materials. P. 212, note I,

Patio. In Spanish architecture, a court open to the sky.

Pediment. The triangular space (gable) at the end of a building, formed by the sloping roof. Fig. 175A. Also an ornamental feature of this character. Figs. 1 77A, 458B.

Pendentive. A concave, triangular piece of masonry (a triangular section of a hemi- sphere). By means of pendentives a dome can be erected over a square area, and the pendentives carry its load to the isolated sup- ports a* the four corners. Figs. 9Ac, 26oAa, 26 1 A.

Peripteral. Surrounded by a colonnade. Fig. 1 i8a, i23Ae, f, and g.

Peristyle. A continuous range of columns sur- rounding a building or a court. Fig. ji8a, X23Ae, f, and g.

Perspective. The science of representing, on one plane, distance and distant objects as they appear to the eye. Fig. 527A.

Photomontage. A combination of several photo- graphs or parts of photographs into one com- position. Fig. 787A. See Montage.

Pier. A vertical masonry support to carry the load of a superstructure.

Pilaster. A flat rectangular member projecting from the wall, of which it forms a part. It usu- ally carries a base and a capital and is often fluted. Figs. 459A, 461 a, 463A, 6ooa, 643A,

APPENDIX

798

Pile fabric. A textile in which extra warps or wefts, looped above the surface and then cut, form a pile or nap, as in velvets and carpets. Figs. 308A, 309A, 523A.

Pillar. A general inclusive term used for a weight-carrying member of any kind. It may be a pier or a column. Also an isolated struc- ture used for a commemorative purpose.

Pinnacle. An upright architectural member generally ending in a small spire, often orna- mental, but used functionally in Gothic architecture to give additional weight to a buttress or an angle pier. Figs. 341A5, 346A, 350A.

Porcelain. Strictly speaking, pottery made on a base of kaolin that is translucent, impervious, and resonant. By extension the term is some- times applied to pottery that is translucent, whether made of kaolin or not. Fig. 383 a.

Pottery. Objects of any kind that are made of clay and hardened by firing.

Predella. Literally, a footstool. In Italian art the narrow panel, at the back of the altar, on which the altarpiece rests. P. 502, note 1.

Putto (pi. putti) . A young boy. A favorite subject in Italian painting and sculpture. Figs. 444B, 449B-

Pylon. The monumental entrance of an Egyptian temple. Figs. 62A, 63B, 68a.

Quoins. Large, slightly projecting stones at the angle of a building, sometimes rusticated. Fig. 458B.

Raking cornice. The cornice on the sloping sides of a pediment. Fig. l25Aa.

Ramp. An inclined plane that takes the place of steps in the ascent of a structure. Figs. 83A, 90A.

Reinforced concrete (ferro-concrete). Concrete strengthened by iron or steel network or bars imbedded before the concrete hardens.

Reja. A Spanish wrought-iron grille to inclose a shrine or chapel. Fig. 559B.

Relief. In sculpture, figures projecting from a background to which they are attached. They may be high (high relief), low (low or bas relief), or sunk into the surface (hollow relief or intaglio) .

Reliquary. A small receptacle for holding a sacred relic. Usually of precious material richly decorated. Fig. 359A.

Repoussi. The process of decorating metal by beating it into relief from the back, leaving the impression on the face. The metal plate is hammered into a hollow mold of wood or some pliable material with hammer and punch and finished with the graver. Figs. 890, 117A, 190A, 244A, 420A.

Re table. Shortened form of retrotabulum, behind

the altar. An architectural screen or wall- facing set up behind an altar, usually con- taining painting, sculpture, carving, or other decorations. Especially elaborate is the Spanish retable. Fig. 557A.

Reverse of a coin or medal. The side opposite the obverse. See Obverse.

Rib. A masonry arch, usually projecting from the surface and molded. In Gothic architec- ture the ribs form the framework of the vault- ing. Figs. 317A, 324B, 336A, 337A, 345A, 354 A *

Rococo. A style of ornament particularly popular about the time of Louis XV. It consists of a profusion of rockwork, wheels, scrolls, and the like. P. 602, note 1 ; Fig. 602A.

Roof crest. A pierced wall rising above the roof. Found in Mayan architecture. Figs. 232A, 233A.

Rose or wheel window. The round window with tracery frequently found on the facade of Romanesque and Gothic churches. Figs. 333A, 348A and b, 349A and b, 350A.

Rusticated stone. Stone masonry with beveled joints and roughened surface. Figs. 438A, 458B, 665A.

Sculpture in the round. Free-standing figures, carved or modeled in three dimensions;

Sgraffito. Decoration produced by scratching through a surface layer of plaster, glazing, etc., revealing a differently colored ground. Also pottery or other ware so decorated.

Shaft. The part of a column between the capital and base. Fig. i25Aa.

Shikar a. In Hindu architecture the high tower that rises over the shrine of the temples of Vishnu. Figs. 364A, 366A.

Soffit. The -underside of an architectural member, such as an arch, lintel, comice, or stairway.

Spandrel. The triangular space between the curve of an arch and the rectangle formed by in- closing moldings. It is frequently decorated. Fig. 263A.

Splayed opening. A splay (a shortened form of “display”) is a large chamfer. In splayed openings the wall is cut away diagonally so that the outer opening is wider than the inner. Figs. 348A and b, 349A and b.

■ Squinch. An architectural device to make a transition from a square to a polygonal base for a dome. It may be composed of lintels, corbels, or arches. Figs. QAf, 26 oAb, 290A.

Stalactite. A pendant architectural ornament common in Muhammadan architecture. P. 290, note 1 ; Figs. 290A, 303A.

Stele. A stone slab or pillar used commemora- tively, as a gravestone, or to mark a site. Fig. 215A.

Stilted arch or dome. An arch or dome having its

GLOSSARY

springing higher than the level of the impost. Fig. 277A.

Stone mosaic. A kind of decoration made with small pieces of cut stone embedded in cement. Used most effectively by the Maya. Fig. 410A.

Stoneware. A kind of pottery of the nature of porcelain but with a coarser base.

Stringcourse. A horizontal molding to indicate a division in the architectural design. Figs.

345 A ) 348 a.

Stucco. Fine plaster or cement used as a coating for walls or for decorations. Fig. 587A.

Stupa. In the Buddhist architecture of India, a domelike structure which marks a sacred site. Fig. 198A.

Stylobate. The upper member of the base of a building that serves as a continuous base of the columns. Fig. i25Aa.

Superimposed, order. The placing of one order of architecture above another in an arcaded or colonnaded building; usually Doric on the first story, Ionic on the second, and Corin- thian on the third. Found in the Greek stoas, used widely by the Romans, and thence by the Renaissance builders. Figs. i8oa, 465A.

Tempera. A technical method of painting upon an especially prepared panel with pigment mixed with egg or glue, or milk, etc. P. 18; Figs. 468A-472A, 484A.

Terra cotta. Hard baked clay. Used for sculpture and building material. It may or may not be glazed or painted. Figs. 163B, i68a, 169A, 456B.

Tesserae. Small pieces of glass or stone used in making mosaics.

T 'extile. A fabric made by interlacing or weaving threads.

Thrust. The outward force exerted by an arch or vault that must be counterbalanced by abutments.

Tracery. Stone ornament that decorates a win- dow and holds the glass; particularly char- acteristic of Gothic. In plate tracery, the stone is pierced with geometric designs. In bar tracery the design is built up of stone bars or moldings fitted together on the principle of the arch. Bar tracery has greater possibilities for design than plate, and soon replaced the latter. Most of the great rose, lancet, and Perpendicular windows are bar tracery. Fig, 354A. The western rose of Chartres, Fig. 333A, is plate; those at Amiens and Reims, Figs. 348B, 349A, bar. Tracery is also used in woodwork. Fig. 586A. In India entire windows were filled with elaborate marble tracery. Fig. 372A.

Transept. The arm of a cruciform church at right angles with the nave. Fig. 338Ad.

Triforium. In a Gothic cathedral, the space be- tween the vault of the aisle and the sloping roof over it; it is represented in the nave wall by the story that lies between the ground- story arcade and the clerestory. Figs. 337A, 34 °a, 34 5 a.

Triglyph. The projecting grooved member of the Doric frieze separating the metopes. Figs. 1 1 8a, 125 Aa.

Tympanum. The space over a doorway inclosed by the lintel and the arch. Figs. 312A, 32ia.

Uraeus. The serpent used as a symbol of royalty in Egyptian art. Figs. 6ob, 79A.

Value of a color. The amount of light and dark in a color. The greater the amount of light, the higher its value; the greater amount of dark, the lower its value.

Vault. A stone, brick, or concrete roof con- structed on the arch principle. A barrel vault is semicylindrical in shape. Figs. 174A, 459A. A groin vault consists of two barrel vaults intersecting at right angles. Figs. 1 74B and c, 179A. A ribbed vault is one in which a frame- work of ribs supports light masonry. Figs. 324B, 336A, 337A, 345A. A dome is a hemi- spherical vault. Fig. 1 76A,

Volute. A spiral scroll, especially characteristic of the Greek Ionic capital. Figs. i25Ab, 126A, 149B.

Voussoir. A wedge-shaped block used in the construction of a true arch. The central voussoir, which sets the arch, is called the keystone. See Arch. Fig. 9AC.

Wainscot. A wooden facing for an interior wall, usually paneled. Fig. 587A.

Wall arcade. See Blind arcade.

Warm color. Red and the hues that approach red, orange, yellow, and possibly yellow-green.

Warp. The lengthwise threads with which a loom is strung.

Weft (woof) . The thread which is inserted in the warp at right angles in the process of weaving.

Woodcut. A design engraved upon a block of wood in such a way that all the wood is cut away to a slight depth except the lines form- ing the design. Also the printed impression made from the wood block. Figs. 394A, 395A, 524A, 550B, 552A.

Ziggurat. In Babylonia-Assyria, a staged tower with ramps for ascent. Fig. 83A.

NOTE ON PRONUNCIATION

The problem of the pronunciation of foreign names is a very real problem be- cause of (r) the lack of any one exhaustive, authoritative source; (2) the differ- ences among authorities on points of pronunciation, frequently due to dialect; (3) the inherent difficulties and varying systems of transliteration of non-Latin alphabets; (4) the fact that English vowels do not coincide in sound with foreign and that there are no English equivalents for some foreign consonants; (5) the tendency to anglicize in the case of well known names; (6) the difficulty in finding authority in the case of modern artists.

The key and pronunciation here given represent a simplified cross section of the following sources, in addition to assistance from individual specialists, and at times an arbitrary choice of one source in preference to another:

The Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia , Century Company, 1911, vol. XI, “The Cen- tury Cyclopedia of Names”

The Columbia Encyclopedia , Columbia University Press, 1946 Lippincott's New Gazetteer , Philadelphia, Lippincott, 1931

Dictionary of Pronunciation of Artists' Names, by G. E. Kaltenbach, Art Institute of Chicago

The Standard Dictionary, Funk and Wagnalls, 1913

Webster's New International Dictionary, Second edition, Merriam, 1945

The standard foreign dictionaries

While the accent has been used in most cases it may be well to point but that stress is equally distributed in Far Eastern languages.

& as in f&t a as in fate 4 as in senate a as in far

KEY TO PRONUNCIATION

e as in xnSt 6 as in mate § as in society, begin l as in pin I as in nine

0 as in t5p 6 as in ode 6 as in 6bey 6 as in 6ff 00 as in too ou as in house

u as in tfib ii as in blue

fi. as in curve, French un, le

ii as in French mur, German fiber 0 as in French feu, fieur, German Goethe

Two dots after a vowel (a:) indicates the lengthening of that same vowel sound. A tilde over a vowel (a) indicates nasalization of the same sound, as in French Amienr, Redon, charnel eve.

ch as in church dz as in adze g as in guest h as in ham

kh as in Scotch loch, German koch 1 approximates 1 as in William ii as in canyon

ng as in singer r as in French metre s as in sing th as in thin z as in zebra zh as in azure

INDEX

Abacus (bb'-u-kus), 126, 128, 158, 263, illus., 125; definition, 793 Abbas I, Shah (1587-1628), 302 Abbaye-aux-Dames (a-be[y]e , 6-dam), Caen, France, plan, diag., 338-39 Abbaye-aux-Hommes (o-z6m) (St. Etienne), Caen, France, 323-24, illus., 324; buttresses, 341, illus., 340; vaulting, illus., 340 Abbey, Edwin A. (1852-1911), 688 Abbey churches, 313, 314, 325 ABI building, Rio de Janeiro, 718-19, illus., 718 Absolute monarchy, 531, 613-15 Absolute reality, 739

Abstraction and abstractionism: African Negro use, 401; Brancusi, 776; Canada, 753; Cezanne, 724; Giotto, 724; machine arts, 784; Manet, 678; painting, 473, 735; Picasso, 734; Ryder, 692; sculpture, 776; Uruguay, 765; wood-carving, 775

Abusir (a-boo-ser'), Egypt, map, 43. See also Sahure, pyramid of

Abydos (u-bi'-dSs), Egypt, map, 43. See also Seti I, temple of

Academic school (Renaissance), 464-65 Academicians (Paris c. 1850), 677, 678 Acad6mie Franchise, 664; Latin America, in- fluence in, 697, 698

Academy, Venice: Feast in the House of Levi (Veronese), 5x3, illus., 515; Miracle of St. Mark (Tintoretto), 5x2-13, illus., 513 Academy of Arts (Russia), 614 Acanthus, 158, 180, 181, 440; Santa Sophia, 260, 262, illus., 263 Achaeans (u-ke'-unz), 106 Achaemenian Persian art (ak-e-m 2 n'-I-un), 98-103; architecture, 99-100; bibliography, 103; metalwork, roo-03; sculpture, 99-100 Acbaemenidae (people), 98 fn., 99 Acolman convent, Mexico, 6x8 Acropolis (u-kr 5 p'-u-lis), Athens, 120, illus., 26; Athena Lemnia (Phidias), 139-40, illus., 141; Athens votive figures, 132-33, illus., 132. See also Parthenon

Acropolis Museum, Athens, Erechtheum, carv- ing from, illus., 128; Jar-Carriers (Parthenon), 143-44, illus., 144; Nike Fixing Her Sandal, illus., 145

Actop&n, fortress-church, Mexico, 618; frescoes, 634

Adam, Robert (1728-1792), 591-92; dining- room, St. James Square, London, 591, illus., 593

Adams Memorial, Rock Creek Cemetery, Wash- ington, 771 ■

Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass., Horizontal Spines (Calder), 779, illus., 781 Adobe (a-do'bt), 240, 633

Adoration of the Lamb (J. and H. van Eyck), 534 - 37 , 538, 54 °, illus., 536 Adoration of the Magi (da Vinci), 491 (illus.) Adoration of the Shepherds (Ghirlandaio), 540 fn.

Adoration of the Trinity (Diirer), 551 Advertising design, 787 ( illus .)

Aegean art (e-je'an), 104-17; architecture, 106- 12; bibliography, 117; metalwork, 1 14-17; painting, 106-12; pottery, 1x4-17; sculpture,

i 13-14

Aegean Sea, map, 43

Aegina (e-jl'-nu), Greece, map, 121; Temple of Aphia, Archer, 135, illus., 133; eastern pedi- ment, 135, 136, illus. , 133 Aeolus (e'-o-lus) (Liberate da Verona), illus., 523 Aeschylus (Ss'-kl-lus) , 120 African art, 399-404; bibliography, 408; carv- ing, 399-400, 402; human figure, 400-01; Negro art, 399-404; painting, 403-04; prehis- toric, 40; sculpture, 399-403, map, 400; tribes, 400; west-central, 399, map, 400 Afro-Cuban Dance (Carreno), 766-67, illus., 768 Agora (a.g'6-ru) (market place), 119 Agra (a'-gra). See Taj Mahall Ahmadabad (a-mud-a-bad'), carved marble win- dow (15th cent.), 372-73, illus., 372 Ahriman (a'-rf-mun) , 98 Ahuramazda (a-hu-ra-m&z'-du) , 98 Airplanes, 784, illus., 785 Aisle, Gothic use of; diags., 338, 339 Ajanta (u-jiin'-tu), caves, India, 203-05, illus., 205; frescoes, 229

Akhetaton (akh'-S-ta-tom), Egypt, 57. See also Amarna

Akhnaton (Egyptian king), 57-58, 68; natural- ism, 75; Nofretete, 70; palace, illus., 75, 76; portrait, 70 (illus.)-, religious revolution, 80 Akkad (city), Sumeria, 82; map, 43 Ala (wing), 184, diag., 185 Alaska: Indians, 651-52; map, 231 Albert Einstein (Epstein), illus., 775 Alberti (al-b6r'-te) (1404-1472), 438, 439 Alcald, (al-ka-l&O) Spain, Archiepiscopal palace, 556; ceiling, 561 (illus.)

Aldobrandini Villa (al-do-br£n-de'-n£) , Frascati, Italy, 528 '

Aleijadinho, 0 . (a-lS-zhti-de'nyo, 5 ) (Lisboa, Antonio Francisco), 630, 632 Aleppo, Syria, mosques, 286 In.

Alexander, the Great, 99, 160, 201 fn.

Alexander VII (pope), tomb, St. Peter’s, Rome,

529 .

Alexander I, Russian czar (1801-1825), 613-14 Alexander, John W. (1856-1915), 687 fn. Alexander Mosaic, 164-65 (illus.)

Alexandria, Egypt, 286 Alhambra (&l-Mm'brd), 294-95

802

INDEX

Allegorical Figure (Quercia), 443, 445 (illus.) Allegory (Giovanni Bellini), 506-07, Ulus.. 506 Alone in the World (Israels), 693 Allston, Washington (1779-1843), 686 A1 Mughair ruin, 8s fn.

Alpaca (Inca), 420 (illus.)

Altamira (al-ta-me'-ra), Spain: Bellowing Bison, illus., 37; paleolithic discoveries at (1879), 29 Altars and altarpieces: Angelico, Fra, at Cor- tona, 505 fn.; Ara Pads, 180-81, illus., 1 82, 183; Arnolfo di Cambio, 435, illus., 433; bal- dacchino, see that heading; Bernini, 529, illus., 528, 529;Berruguete, 562; Correggio, 513; custo- dias, 560, 562; Donatello, 450, illus., 448; Duc- cio Majesta, 469, illus., 468; folding, S34~35> Fouquet, J., 606; French, 606; Ghent, 534-37, 538, 540, illus., 536; Giorgione, 507; Goes, H. van der, 541 fn.; grilles, 560, 562; Grunewald, M., 549; Indian decoration of, 634; Isenheimer, 549; Maya, 235, illus., 236; Mexico, 620; Pala d’Oro, St. Mark’s, Venice, 265; predella, 502; Puebla cathedral, 610 (illus.)', Pueblo mission churches, 633; rejas, 560, 562; retable, 557 (illus), 559, 560; St. Mark’s, Venice, 265; St. Peter’s, 526; San Francisco Xavier, Tepo- zotldn, illus., 621; San Zeno (Mantegna), 503 fn.; Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome, 529 (illus.) ; SantaMaria inCosmedin, 252;screens, 557 (illus), 559, 560; Siena cathedral, 469; Spanish, 556-57; triptych style, 507; Van Eyck’s (Ghent), 534-37, 538, 540, illus., 536; Zeus at Pergamon, 161-62, illus., 162 Amarna (d-mar’-nu) , Egypt, 57, 58, 68, 70; Akhnaton, palace of, 75-76, illus., 75; domestic architecture, 71 (illus.) ; map, 43 Ambulatory, 336; Chartres, 346; definition, 793;

Gothic use of, diag., 339 Amenemhet III (a-mSn-Sm'-hSt), 69-70, illus.,

70 

American art, 230-45; colonial, 465, 642-49; English American, 642-50; French American, 638-42; Northern colonies, 642-43, 644, 645, 647, 649; portrait painting, 646-49; pre- historic, 40; Renaissance art in, 6x6 ff.; Southern colonies, 642-43, 644, 646, 647, 649. See also American Indian; Canada; Caribbean; Chimu; Maya; Latin American art; Nazca; South America; Tiahuanaco; Toltec; United States

American Indian art and culture, 637, 651-60; adobe, 240, 633; ancient culture, 618; Andean tribes, 629; art expression, 643, 651; bead- work, 656-57, 659; bibliography, 659-60; Brazil, 629-30; Canada, 638, 752; conversion, 618, 619; European art instruction, 634; folk art, 633-34; French missionaries, 638; Guate- mala, 628; heraldry, 652; horse, introduction of, 656, 657; house furnishings, 653, illus., 652; language, 618; linear style, 634; masks, 653; motifs, 623-25; Navaho, 657-68, 659; North- ern colonies, attitude toward, 643-44; North- west coast, 651-56, 658, map, 231; pageantry, 620; painting, 657, 750, illus., 751; Peru, 761-62; Plains Indian, 656-57, 659; Pueblo, 421-24; quillwork, 656; regional art, modern, 750; religious rites, 620; Renaissance art, influ- ence on, 616; skills, 638; Southern colonies,

attitude toward, 643-44; Spanish civilization pattern, 617; traditional culture, 621 .See also Museum of the American Indian American Museum of Natural History, New York City: Alpaca (Inca), 420 (illus)-, carved goat horn spoon handles, Northwest coast Indian, 653, illus., 654; ground and polished stone axe heads, illus., 39; Poncho (Inca), 420, illus., 418; Portrait Jar (early Chimu), 241, illus., 240

Amida (a'-mg-da) Buddha, 220; Japan, 225-26, 229. See also Guatama Buddha Amida Trinity of Tachibana Fujin, 228, illus., 227

Amiens (a-mye') cathedral, 349, illus., 348; aisles, illus., 345; choir, illus., 345; nave, 10, illus., 345; tracery, illus., 348; Vierge Doric, 35o

Amphiprostyle (am-fl-pro'-stll) temple, 123 Amphora, 146 (illus), 148; definition, 793; Exekias, 150-52; funerary, 147-48, illus., 146, 148; geometric, illus., 148; human figure, 152 Amun, temple of, Karnak: columns, 67, illus., 61, 64; hypostyle hall, 66, 67, illus., 61, 64 Amun, temple of, Luxor: colonnade, 67, illus., 65;

Ramesses II, statues of, illus., 66 Amun-Re (a'-mSnra) (god), 42 Amsterdam, Netherlands, 574. See also Rijks Museum

Analytical cubism, 734 Anatomy Lesson, The (Rembrandt), 576 Ancestor portraits, 403, illus., 402 Ancestor worship: Benin, 403; China, 208, 211, 215, 216

Ancestral Shield (Melanesian), 406, illus., 405 Andean region, 239, 240, 245 Andros, island, Greece, map, 121 Angelico, Fra (fra an-jS'-le-ko). See Fiesole, Giovanni da Angkor, Cambodia, 368

Angkor Wat (ang-kor' vat') temple, Cambodia, 369, illus., 370, 371 Angola, Africa, map, 400 Angoulgme (a-goo-lSm'), France, St. Pierre, 322, illus., 323

Animals, Japanese painting of, 391 Annunciation (S. Martini), 470, illus., 471 Annunciation cathedral, Moscow, 279, illus., 281 Antoinette Schulte (Despiau), 773, illus., 774 Antonello da Messina (an-t6-n61'16 da me:s- se'na), (1430-1479), 504 Antwerp, Belgium, 533, 534; Jesuit churches, 545; Renaissance ideas, 541 Anu (a'-noo) (nature god), 82 Anuradhapura (u-n66:-rad-hu-po6:'-ru), Great Buddha of, 201, 202 (illus)

Apadana (a-pu-da'-nu) (audience hall), 99 Apartment house, 183. See also Housing projects Apelles (u-pgl'-ez) (Greek painter), 164, 488 Aphaia, Temple of, Aegina, Archer, 135, illus., 133, eastern pediment, 135, 136, illus., 133 Aphrodite (S.f"-ro-di-te) (statue), discovered near Suma, 469

Aphrodite of Cyrene, 159 (illus.)

Aphrodite (Venus) of Melos , 163 Aphrodite of Syracuse, 162 Apollo (Olympia), illus., 137

INDEX 803

Apollo, Temples of: Corinth, 124; near Miletus, Ulus., 130

Apollo figures, 130-32, 160, illus., 13 1; head, Ulus., 129

Apollo of Veii, 169 (illus.)

Apollodorus (a-pol-o-do'-rus), the “Shadow- Maker,” 145, 177

Apoxyomenos (a-p5k-si-5m'-e-nSs) (Lysippus?), 160, 16 1 (illus.)

Apprentice system, Florence, 432 Approaching a work of art, 1-2 Apse, 250, 251 (illus.), 256; Basilica of Maxen- tius, illus., 178; Byzantine, 253; Chartres, 336, illus., 335; definition, 793; double, 326; Gothic use, diags., 338, 339; Old St. Peter’s, 251 (Him.); Romanesque, 326; St. Dmitri, Vladimir, illus., 277; San Francisco, Quito, 626; San Vitale, Ravenna, 256; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 252; Santa Sophia, 258. See also Chevet

Apsidal chapel, Gothic use of, Hag., 339 Aqueduct: definition, 793; Roman, 175, 180, illus., 174

Ara Pads (a'-ru pa'-kis), 180-81, illus., 182, 183 Arabesque, illus., 288, 292 (illus.), 293 (illus.), 295, 296, 304, 306, 561

Arabia: calligraphy, 292, 295, 296; Muham- madanism, 286; nomads, 286. See also Mu- hammadanism Arabian Desert, map, 43 Araucanian Indians, 764 Arc de Triomphe, Paris, 665 Arcade, 178, 318, 319, 322, 325 , illus., 180, 255; definition, 793

Arch and arch system, 10, illus., 9; Assyrian, 90, Ulus., 91; Brazil, 632; Byzantine use, 263; Chartres, illus., 337; Chinese use, 2x5; con- centric, 668 , illus., 667; corbeled, 110,111, 112, 233, Ulus., 9, 232; crown, 794; definition, 794; Egypt, 71; “ encorbeled,” 279; Flemish painting, use in, 537, illus., 535; horseshoe, 291 (illus.), 294; Maya use, 233; Medici- Riccardi palace, 439 fn.; Muhammadan use, 289, 290; ogee, 352, illus., 350; Palladio’s use, 465; Persia, 303-04; pointed, 336, 534, diag. 336, 339, illus., 534; rib, 798; Roman use, 174, 175, 178, 179, 180 (illus.)] Romanesque, 3x6, 317, 321; round, illus., 9; rounding, 342; St. Peter’s, 461; Santa Sophia, 259; Sassanian, illus., 299; stilted, 798-99; Sumeria, 83; thrust, 799; transverse, 316; triple, 180; vaulting, 315; voussoir, 799. See also Arcade; Buttress; Center; Flying buttress; Spandrel Arch of Constantine, 180 Arch of Titus, 178, 180, 181-82, illus., 181 Archaic cultures, 230. See also Chimu; Maya;

Nazca; Tiahuanaco; Toltec Archaic smile, 131, 132

Archbishop’s palace, Alcald, Spain, 556; wood ceiling, illus., 561

Archeological Museum, Florence: Franqois Crater, 149 (illus.), 1 50; Orator, 1 70, illus., 173 Archer (Etruscan), illus., 169 Archer (Temple of Aphaia at Aegina), 135, Ulus.,

■ 133 V:\ k

Archers of Saint Adrian (Hals), 576 (illus) Archimedes (ar-kl-m6'-d€z), 156

Archipenko (ar-che-peng'-ko), Alexander (1887- ), 777; White Torso, 777 Architectural orders. See Corinthian; Doric; Ionic

Architecture: Achaemenian, 99-100; Aegean, 106-12; Andean, 626; Assyria, 91-95, 96; Aztec, 415-17; Baroque, 526-28; Brahmani- cal, 362-73; Brazil, 630, 717-19; Byzantine, 250-65; cantilever, 10, illus., 9; Chaldean, 97; China, 212-15; Christian, early, 250-65: concrete construction, 10, Ulus., 9; corbeling, illus., 9; depth, expressed through color, 7; Egypt, 44-54, 58-71; engineering, 666, 707, 713, 720; England, 586-92, 594; English American, 644-46; Etruscan, 169; Europe, 666, see also individual countries; Flemish, 534; form, 9-10; France, 597-603, 611; French American, 638-41; function, 666, 667, 668; geometric solids, buildings based on, illus., 8; Germany, 548-49, 711-13; Gothic, 334 - 55; Greece, 121-28, 157-58, r66;Herreran style, 556; Hindu, 362-73; Inca, 4x9-20; India, 198-203, 206; international style, 7x3; Japan, 224-28, 388-90, 396-97; Maya, 233-36, 409- 10; Mexican, 618-21; Mixtec, 413-14; Mu- hammadan, 288-95; Muhammadan-Hindu, 369-73; Muhammadan Persian, 303-04; Neo- Babylonian, 97; nineteenth-century, 664-69; orders, superimposed, 179, 588; organic, Wright, F. L., quoted, 708; organic structure concept, 666; Persia, 299, 303-04; plateresque style, 555-56; prehistoric, 40-41, illus., 41; Pueblo, 421-23; quality in, xo; Renaissance, 433-67, 664; Romanesque, 3 14-27; Rome, 172, I73~&5> 19 1 ; Russia, 277-80, 613-14; Sas- sanian Persian, 299; sculpture compared with, ii ; sites, 9; South American, 622 ff.; space, 8; Spain, 555-60; steel construction, xo, illus., 9; structural form, 9-10, illus., 9; Sumeria, 83-88; texture, 8; Tiahuanaco, 240, 243-44, 245; Toltec, 238-39, 4x5-17; twentieth-century, 706-21; United States, 666-69, 707-09, 7x3- 17; volumes, 8, 9; Zapotec, 413-14. See also Arch; Building construction; Ceramics; Dome; Fenestration; Fresco; Lintel; Narthex; Nave; Skyscraper, etc.

Architrave (ar'kPtrav), 126, 128, illus., 125; definition, 793

Ardagh Chalice (ar-da'), 330 (Ulus.)

Ardashir I, 299

Ardebil carpet (ar-du-bel'), 310, illus., 308 Area, 4, 8, illus., 5

Arena Chapel, Padua, 473-74, 493 fn., 501 Ulus., 473. 475; Metd (Giotto), 473-74, illus., 475 Arequipa (a"-ra-ke'pa) , Peru, La Compafifa, 623, illus., 625

Arezzo, Italy, map, 431

Arezzo (S.-rSt's6) frescoes, 482 (Ulus), -85

Arfe, Juan de (ar'-f&, hw&n' da), 56a

Argentina, 625; painting, 764-65; sculpture, 636

Argos, map, 121

Aristophanes, 120

Aristotle, 156

Arizona, 421; churches and convents, 633; kiva wall painting, 423, illus., 422 Arles (lirlO, France, St. Trophime, 320-21, Ulus., 321

INDEX

8°4

Armrests, 358 Aryan (people), 193, 194, 195

Armory Show (1913). See International Exhibi- Ascension, Church of, Kolomenskoe (near Mos- tion of Modern Art cow), 279, illus., 280

Amo River, Italy, map, 431

Arnolfo di Cambio (ar-nol’-fo: de katm'-byo :) (d. 1302), 43 S; baldacchino of St. Paul’s Out- side the Walls, detail from, 435, illus., 433

Arouca, Jose Pereira (a-ro'ku, zho-zS' pa-ra'ru), Rosario dos Pretos, Ouro Preto, 632, illus.,

631

Arp, Hans (1888- ), 738 fn.; quoted, 780

Arras tapestries (a-rfis'), 546 fn.

Arretine bowl (Sx'-re-tin) , 190-91 {illus)

Art: and nature, difference between, 3 ; approach to, 1-2; content of, 2; forms of, 1-23; function of, 2; nature of, 1-2; purpose in, 2; tradition, 728

Art Gallery of Toronto, West Wind (Thomson), 753 (Ulus.)

Art Institute of Chicago: Assumption of the Virgin (El Greco), 564-65, illus., 564; At the Moulin Rouge (Toulouse-Lautrec), 680, illus., 681; Berceuse, La (Woman Rocking a Cradle), Van Gogh, 726-27, illus., 727; Calavera: Don Quixote (Posada) , 755 {illus.); Charlotte of France (J. Clouet), 607, illus., 606; Christ Healing the Sick (Rembrandt), 580-81, illus., S79; Chiin flower pot, 385 (illus.); Crucifixion (Cranach), 552, illus., 553; Dancer and Gazelles (Manship), 772, illus., 770; Day of the God, The (Gauguin), 729, illus., 739; Evening Glow of the Ando, The (S. Harunobu), illus., 395; Grande Jatte, La (Seurat), 684 (illus.)', Home of the Heron (Inness), 686-87, illus,, 687; Improvisation No. 30 (Kandinsky), 735, illus., 737; Mere Grigoire, La (Courbet), 677, illus., 676; Rajah in the Mudr a of Exposition, Ajanta, illus., 205; Shang dynasty vessels, illus., 2x0, 21 1 ; Sharaku, Toshtsai, portrait by, illus, , 394; Tenants and Landlords: “ After Midnight” (Daumier), 678 (illus.)-, Three Trees (Rem- brandt), 581 , illus., 580; Ting porcelain bowl (Sung dynasty), 385, illus., 383; Young Girl at an Open Half-Door (Rembrandt), 577 (illus.)

Art nouveau, 669

Artaxerxes (itr-tu-zurk'-sez) , at Susa, capital from the palace of, illus., 100

Arteaga, Sebastian (1610-c. 1656), 635

Artemis (ar'-te-mis) (statue), found at Delos, 129 fn.

Artemis, Temples of: Eleusis, illus., 123; Ephe- sus, 157

Artesonados, 628

Artist, r6le of, x-2; Canada, 752; canvas or- ganization, 3; Dante, quoted, 197; form, in- vestigations of, 662; form creating com- ponents, 4; France, 596, 602, 603; Hindu mo- tivation, 197; line direction, 5; London (19th cent.), 673 ; machine art, 783, 784; materials, 4; Mexico, 754; New England, 647; nineteenth- century, 664; Peru, 762; Renaissance, 520-21; technique, 197; vision, 197; scope, 788; Spain, 562; spirit and tempo of their age, 662; twentieth-century, 704-05, 721-22; United States, 687-88, 693-94, 744, 750

Ashcan school, 695

Ashikaga age (a-shi-ka-ga) , 393; Monkeys, illus., 393

Ashur (a-shoor) (people), 90-91 Ashur (sun god), 91

Ashurbanipal (a'-shoor-ba'-ne-pal') , palace of, 94-95; hunting lions, illus., 95 Ashurnasirpal II (a'-shobr-na'zer-pal'), palace of: Guardian at the Gate, illus., 92; Winged Being and the King’s Armsbearer , A, 93-94, illus., 93 Assisi (a-se'-ze), Italy, map, 431; San Francesco, 472-73

Assumption (Correggio), 514 (illus.)

Assumption (San Vincente, Toledo), 565 fn. Assumption of the Virgin (El Greco), 564-65, illus., 564

Assumption of the Virgin (Titian), 510 Assyrian art, 90-96; architecture, 91-95; bibli- ography, 103; map, 43; metalwork, 95 (illus.); sculpture, 91-95 Asymmetrical balance, 383 At the Moulin de la Galette (moo-le' du IS. gS-lSt'), (Renoir), 682

At the Moulin Rouge (moo-le' roo :zh) (Tou- louse-Lautrec), 680, illus., 681 Athena, Temple of, Athens, 135 Athena Lernnia (Phidias), 139-40, illus:, 141 Athena Nike, Temple of, 145 (illus.)

Athena Parthenos, 125 fn.

Athens, Greece, 119-20; Dipylon Gate, 146, 147; Justinian, 298; Lysicrates monument, 157; map, 121 ; Panathenaic procession, 143; patron goddess of, 125 fn.; Peloponnesian War, 156; potters’ quarters, 146; Propylaea, 665; Temple of Athena, 135; Temple of the Olympian Zeus, 158, illus., 157, 159; town planning, 157. See also Acropolis; Acropolis Museum; Erechtheum; Parthenon Atherton, John (1900- ), 748 fn.

Atl, Dr. (1884- ), 755 Aton (S'-t6n), religion of, 57-58, 68 Atrium (a'-tri-um) : basilica, 250, 251 (illus); definition, 793; Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339; Pompeian, 184, diag., 185; Sant’ Am- brogio, Milan, 314, illus., 316; Santa Sophia, 258

Au bal Tabarin (Severini), 736 Augustan age, 186, 187, 189, 191 Augustine (saint), 250

Augustus, Emperor, statue of, 186, illus., 185 Aureole, illus., 321; definition, 793. See also Halo

Aurignacian age (b-reg-na'-shun) , 31; Bison, chalk drawing, illus., 35; woolly rhinoceros, 35, illus., 34

Avalokiteshvara (u-v 2 .-lb-ki-tash'-w 2 .-rb) (deity), 209, 226

Avignon (a-ve-fiyo'), France, 606 Ax: hand, 30 (illus.) ; heads, illus., 39 Azilians (u-zil'-yunz) (people), 39 Aztec art and culture (az'-tbk), 415-17, 6 17; architecture, 415-17; bibliography, 417; human sacrifice, 415, 416; pyramid temples, 425; religion, 4x5, 416; sculpture, 415-17

INDEX

Babel, Tower of. 85 fn.

Babylon and Babylonia. 89, 96-97; Cyrus, 98; hanging gardens, 85 fn., 97; Ishtar gate, 97, illus., 96; Lion of Procession Street, Ulus., 97; map, 43; Marduk temple, 97; Nebuchad- nezzar’s palace, 97; Tower of Babel, 85 fn. Bacchus and Ariadne (bak'-us, a-re-ad'-ne) (Titian), 310

Backyards, Greenwich Village (Sloan), Him., 694

Bacon, Francis, 325

Baghdad (bag-dad'), Iraq, 301-02

Baghdad Museum: gold helmet, illus., 89;

Sumerian standard, 84 (illus.)

Balconies: cantilevered, 709; New Orleans, 640, illus., 641

Baldacchino (bal-da-ke'-no) : definition, 793; St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, 433, illus., 433; Saint Peter’s, 326; Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome, 529 (illus.)

Baldovinetti (bal-do- ve-nSt'-te) , Alesso (1425- 1499), 480; chiaroscuro, 3x5; Madonna, 480, 492-93, illus., 481; space, use of, 492 Balia, Giacomo (1871-’ ), 736 fn.

Baltic Sea, map, 276 .

Balv&s, Jeronimo de (je'-rdn'i'-mo), Altar of San Jos 4 , Tepozotlin, illus., 621 Bamberg cathedral (bam'-bSrkh), Germany, 325, illus., 327 Bandanna (fabric), 376 Bank of England, 590, 665 Baptistery (b&p'tls'-ter'-I), Florence, 451, illus., 451, 433; bronze doors, 451 fn.; “Gates of Paradise” (Ghiberti), 451 (illus.), illus., 453; north door panel, 431, illus., 430; south doors, 435, illus., 436

Baptistery, Pisa, pulpit (N. Pisano), 434 , illus., 432 , 434 Bar tracery, 799

Barberini palace (bar-bS^re'-ne), 530 Barberini vase. See Portland vase Barbizon school (bar-be-zo'), 677, 722. See also Corot; Millet; Naturalism Barcelona, Spain, Catalan interior, 561, illus., 562 Bargello (bar-jSlClo). See National Museum, Florence

Bark cloth (tapa), 403 (Ulus), 406, 408 Barlach (bar'-lakh), Ernst (1870-1938), 773 Barnard, George Gray (1863-1938), 771 Baropue art (bd-rok / ; -r6k'), 525-30; architec- ture, 526-28; asymmetrical balance, 579; bib- liography, 330; Brazil, 630, 632; California, 633; Caribbean area, 628; churches, 326; Cuzco, 618; Dutch use, 384; Flanders, 545; France, 607, 608; Germany, 348, 352; Greco, El, 567; Hellenistic culture, 162; Hispanic American, 636; Houdon, 60s, 606; illusion- ism, 304; Indians, influence on, 628; Mex- ican use, 620, 621, 635; Mexico City, 618; movement, an end in itself, 526; painting, 530; Peru, 623-26; Quito, 626-27, illus., 627, 628; Rembrandt, 579; rococo, 602-03; Russia, 614; St. Paul’s, London, 589; sculpture, 528-30, 624; Spain, 556, 618, 624, 628; technical vir- tuosity; 330; theatricality, 330; three-dimen- sional design, 545

Barozzi da Vignola (ba-ro :t'-ts£) , Giacomo, (1307-1373). 456 fn.

805

Barr, Alfred H., painting, quoted on, 24 Barrel vaulting, 174 (illus), 173, 320, 324. See also Vaults and vaulting Barricade, The (Orozco), 738, illus., 760 Barye, Antoine Louis (ba-re', a-twan' lwe') (1796-1875), 771 Bas relief, 798

Basel Museum (bii'zel or bal), Switzerland, Man in a Broad-brimmed Hat (Holbein the Younger), 551, illus., 332 Basilica and basilican churches (bds-sil'l-ka) : Baroque changes, 526 fn.; Chartres, 336, 339; Christian, 250-52, 3x4-15; Constantine,

Rome, 178 (Ulus); construction, 230-32, illus:, 231, 338; decorative elements, 317-18; definition, 793; France, 320; Italy, 230; Maxentius, Rome, 178 (illus); Norway, 326; Paestum, 130 fn.; Ravenna, 253-54; repairing of (Rome), 233; Roman use of, 177-78 (illus); Romanesque, 322, 326; roofing, 313; St. Paul’s, London, 588-89, illus., 388; St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, 233 (illus); St. Peter’s (old), illus. , 231; San Clemente, Rome, plan, diag. , 338; Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, 233, illus., 254; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 252-53, illus., 232; Vicenza, 463 (illus). See also Apse; Atrium

Basket makers, 421, map, 193 Basketry: Pueblo, 423-24; Tlingit, Alaska, 656 (illus), 633

Baths of Caracalla, 179 (illus), 180 Baton With Fox’s Head, 33, illus., 32 Batik (ba-tek') (painting process), 22 Batter, definition, 793, illus., 62 Battle of the Centaurs and Lapiths, 136, illus,, 135 Battle Piece (P. Uccello), 477, 479, illus., 478 Battle Scene between Alexander and Darius, mosaic, from the floor of the House of the Faun, Pompeii, 164-63 (illus)

Battling Nudes (A. Pollaiulo), 481, illus., 480 Bauhaus (bou'-hous), Dessau, Germany, 712, illus., 710

Bautista de Toledo, Juan (Sp. architect), 356 Bay, definition, 793, Ulus., 338 Bayer, Herbert: Weakness Into Strength (ad- vertising design), illus., 787 Bayeta (ba-ya'ta) (cloth), 658 Beadwork, 636-57

Beal, Gifford Reynolds (1879- )> 692 fn., 744 fn.

Beam: hammer, 387 fn.; tie, 387 fn.

Bear design, 654, illus., 654, 655 Beckmann, Max (1884- ), 737 fn.; Departure, 737, illus., 738 Beehive tomb, 111-12

Behrens, Peter (ba'-rns, pa'-tur) (1868- ), 669 Belgium, 669. See also Flemish art Bell tower. See Campanile Belle Jardiniere, La (H-bSi' zhar-den-ySr') (Raphael), 497-98, illus., 497 Belle Verriere, La (vS-rl-y&r') (window), 346 Bellini, Gentile (bS:l-le'-nS, j£n-te'le:) (c. 1427-

c. 1507), 505

Bellini, Giovanni (j6-va:n'-n§) (1428-1516), 303-07; Allegory, 506-07, Ulus., 506; Ma- donna, Church of the Frari, Venice, 306, illus., 507; Field, 505-06, illus., 505

8o6

INDEX

Bellini, Jacopo (ya:-'k6-p6:) (d. 1470), 501, 504- 05

Bellowing Bison, Cave of Altamira, Spain, 36, Ulus., 37

Bellows, George W. (1882-1925), 694 fn., 695-96;

Stag at Sharkey’s, A, 696, Ulus., 695 Benedetto da Maiano (ba-na-dat'to da ma-ya'no) (1442-1497), 454 fn.

Benedict (saint), 313

Beni Hasan tombs (ba'ne has'-sSn), illus., 72; map, 43

Benin (bg-nen') (people), 400; ancestor worship, 403; king, portrait of, illus., 402; map, 400; metalwork, 403

Benson, Frank Weston (1862- ), 688 Benton, Thomas Hart (1889-1947), 749 fn. Berceuse, La (ber'suz') (Van Gogh), 726-27, illus., 727

Berdicio, Roberto Guardia (bSr-dS'syo, rro- bSr'tS gwar'de-a) (19x0- ), 763 Berenson, Bernhard, on Pollaiuolo, quoted, 481 Berlage, Hendrik P., 669 Berlin, Germany, Brandenburg Gate, 665 Berlin Museum: Caracalla, illus., 187; Silver Crater from the Hildesheim Treasure, 190 (illus.)

Bernini, Giovanni Lorenzo (bS:r-ne'-ne jo- v2.:n'-n§ lo-rSn'-tso) (1598-1680), 528-30; Ecstasy of Santa Teresa, 529 (illus.); Episcopal Chair of St. Peter, St. Peter’s, Rome, 529, illus., 528; St. Peter’s cathedral, 460, great court, illus,, 460

Berruguete, Alonzo (bg:r-roo-gw§:'tS h-lfin'-so) (c. 1486-1561), 558, 559, 562; St. Peter, 559, illus., 558

Best-Maugard, Adolfo (1891- ), 756 Bhagavad-gita or Lord’s Song (bug'-u-vud-ge'tu) (treatise), 196

Bible, 327; Gospel Cover (Romanesque), 329- 30, illus., 329

Bibliography, 791-92; criticism, 792; design, 791; esthetics, 792; general histories, 791; technique, 791-92. See also individual coun- tries, periods, schools

Bibliothgque Nationale, Paris ’.Christ Crowning Romanus and Eudocia, 269-70, illus., 268; Silver Plate (Sassanian), illus., 301 Bierstadt (be:r'-shtat), Albert (1830-1902), 686 fn.

Bi-facial cores. See Ax, hand Bihzad (Persian painter), 305 Bingham, George Caleb (1811-1879), 687 Bird in Flight (Brancusi), 777, illus., 779 Birds: Chinese painting of, 384; Japanese paint- ing of, 391

Birth of the Ganges River, The (The Descent of Ganga), Mammallapuram, 368, illus., 369 Birth of Venus (Botticelli), 487-88, illus., 427 Bishamon, the Guardian King of the North, Kuramadera temple, Kyoto, Japan, illus., 390 Bison: chalk drawing, illus., 35; with turned head (Magdalenian), illus., 33 Blake, William (1757-1827), 672; When the Morning Stars Sang Together, 672, illus., 671. See also Albert P. Ryder Blanes, Juan Manuel (bla'ngs, hwan m&-nwSl) (1830-1901), 698

Blankets: Chelkat, 654 (illus.), 655; Navaho, 658, illus., 659; with bear design, 654 (Ulus.), 655

Bias, Camilo (bias, ka-me'l 5 ) (1903- ), 762 fn. Blashfield, Edwin H. (1848-1936), 688 Blind arcade (wall arcade), definition, 793, illus., 3x8

Blois (blwa'), chateau of, wing of Francis I, 598, illus., 596

Blowpipe, 191; invention of, 78

Blue (Yangtze Kiang) River, 206, 208, map,

207

Blume, Peter (1906- ), 748 fn.

Boccioni, Umberto (b 6 :t-che- 5 'ne, oom-ber'to) (1882-1916), 736 fn.

Bodhi tree, 228

Bodhisattva (bo-dhe-sat'-va) , 209; Avolokitesh- vara, 202-03; China, 216-17; Great Figure (Ajanta), 205; Japan, 224-28; Kwannon, 226

Bolivia: art attainment, 617; Inca culture, 762-63; painting, 762-63; sculpture, 636, 775

Bologna (bu-lo'nu, bS-Io'nya), Italy, 5x6; art school, 5x4, chart, 5x7; map, 431; Renaissance painting, chart, 517; San Petronio, marble panel, illus., 444

Bonnard, Pierre (b6-na:r', py8:r) (1867-1947),

Book of Hours, page from, illus., 357 Book of Kells, 327-28, 330 Book of Lindisfarne, 327, 328, illus., 328 Books, bookmaking, and manuscripts: binding, Persian, 306; Byzantine, 270; choir books, 522, illus., 523; codex, 266, 412; colophon, 306, 328, 794; covers, 329-30, illus., 329; Celtic, 327-28, 330; Diirer’s illustrations, 549; Egypt, 266 fn.; France, 606, illus., 357; Gothic, 355-56; Greece, 266 fn. ; historiation, 522, illus., 523; illumination, 327-28, 356, 546, illus., 357; incunabula, 523-24; Ireland, 327-28; Joshua Roll, 266; liturgical, 329; Maya codex, 412; Muhammadan, 296; Persia, 304-06, 308, 310; printed, 524; Renaissance, 429, 430, 522-24; Romanesque, 327-28; Rome, 266 fn.; twentieth-century, 787; wood- blocks, 393. See also Book of Hours; Book of Kells; Book of Lindisfarne; Calligraphy; Koran; Tres Riches Heures Borghese Gallery, Rome, Education of Cupid (Titian), 511, illus., 510

Borobudur (bo-ro-boo-doo :r') map, 207; Stupa of, 203, illus., 203, 204

Borromini, Francesco (bor-ro-me'-ne, fran- chSs'-kS) (1599-1667), 526 Bosch, or Bos, Hieronymus van (b6sk, b6s; he-rbn'i-mus) (c. 1450-15x6), 542; Temptation of St. Anthony, 542, illus ., ^541 Boscoreale Treasure (bos'-k 6 -rS:-a:'- 12 :), 190 fn. Bosporus, map, 121 Boston. See Museum of Fine Arts Bottega (bo-ta'-ga) (shop), 432; definition, 793 Botticelli, Sandro (bSt-te-chgl'-le) (1444-1510), 487-89; Birth of Venus, 487-88, illus., 427; Calumny, 488, illus., 489; Dante and Virgil in Purgatory, 489, illus., 488; line, feeling for, 487-89

Boucher, Frangois (boosha/, fra-swa') (1703- 1770), 610

INDEX

807

Bouguereau, Adolphe William (boog-ro', a-d 61 f' vel-y&m') (1825-1905), 677 fn., 731, 732 Boulle, Andr6 Charles (booj', a-dra'sharl') (1642-1732), 603

Bound Slave (Michelangelo), 463 (Ulus.), 464 Bourdelle, Emile Antoine (boor-dS}', a-m 5 l' a-twin') (1861-1929), 772 Bourgeoisie, rise of, 663, 667 Brahma (bra/mu) and Brahmanism, 194, 196, 197, 202, 373; art, 362-78 Bramante, Donato (bra-ma:n'-t&:, do-na:'-t6) (1444-15x2), 456 fn.; St. Peter’s cathedral, 460

Brancacci chapel (bran-ka:'-che), Florence, frescoes, 493

Brancusi, Constantin (bran-koo/-se, k6n-stan- ten') (1876- ), 776; Bird in Flight, 777, illus., 779

Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, 665 Braque, Georges (brak', zh6rzh) (1881- ), 732 fn.; painting, aim of, quoted on, 735 Brazil, 629-31; architecture, 7x7-19; churches, 63 1-3 2 ; climate, 7x7; French influence, 638, 641, 717; Negroes, 766; painting, 765-66; plantation houses, 641; sculpture, 775; shutters, 718; town planning, 720; Week of Modern Art (1922), 766 Breda, Netherlands, 567; Surrender (Velasquez), 567-68

Brent, Enrique (1909- ), 762 fn.

Breton (bru-to'), Andre (poet), on surrealism, quoted, 738-39

Brick: American colonial use, 644; Assyria, 91, 93, 96; Byzantine use, 257-58, 264; Dudok’s use, 709; French- American use, 640, 641; McGraw-Hill building, 715; Oud, J. J. P., use of,.; 710; Persian use, 303; Roman use, 174; Russia, 278, 279; Santa Sophia, 259; Sassanian use, 299; Sumeria, 83, 89; twentieth-century use, 709, 710 Bridges, Roman, 175

British Columbia: Indians, 651-52; map, 231;

totem poles, 652, illus., 653 British Museum, London, 590, 665; Archer, Etruscan, illus., 169; armlet, gold (c. 400 b.c .), illus., 102; brass bowl (Muhammadan), illus., 295; bronze bowl (Sth cent. b.c.), Ulus., 95; carved prow of a canoe (Polynesian), illus., 406; Demeter, 159, Ulus., 156; Erech- theum, upper part of a column, illus., 126; ewer (Persian), 306 (illus.); flint fist hatchet, illus., 30; fowling scene from a Theban tomb, 75, illus., 74; Greek coins, illus., 154; King Ashurbanipal Hunting Lions, illus., 95; Ku K’ai-chih. Lady Fang and the Bear, 219, 220, Ulus., 218; Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, frieze of, 160 (illus.); Nineveh, palace at, paving slab from, illus., 94; Ninkhursag, temple of, copper relief from, illus., 81; Parthenon, 125 fn.; Parthenon frieze, Ulus., 143; Portland vase, xox, illus., 190; Quoniam page from the Book of Lindisfarne, 327, illus., 328; Temple of Apollo, near Miletus, Seated Man, Ulus., 130; Three Fates, 141-42, illus., 143; vase pointing (Greek), illus., 164 Brocaded velvet (Italian 15th cent,), 522, illus., 523

Broken color (divisionism), 671 Broken pediment, definition, 793, illus., 529, 590 Bromley-le-Bow, state room from (1606), 588, illus., 587

Bronze: Africa, 403; Benin use of, 403; bowl (8th cent. B.c.), illus., 95; Brancusi’s use, 776, illus., 779; Chinese use of, 210 (illus.), 211 (illus.), 212, 222, 734 fn.; Despiau’s use, 773, illus., 774; Donatello’s use, 447, 450, illus., 448, 449; Epstein’s use, 774, illus., 775; Etruscan use of, 170, Ulus., 169, 173; Eurasia, central, 102; eyelashes, 138; Faggi’s use, 773, illus., 771; Ghiberti’s use of, 450, illus., 451, 453; Greek use of, 129, 138-40, 153; Hindu use, 202, 367, 368; Japanese use of, 226, 228, 394, illus., 226, 227; Lachaise’s use, 775, illus., 777; Lipchitz’s use, 777, 778, illus., 779; Luristan, 101 (illus.), 102; Manship’s use, 772, illus., 770; MeStrovic’s use of, 773, illus., 772; Milles’ use of, 773; Minoan, 105, 112, 1 16; Parthenon frieze, 143; patina, 212; Pollaiuolo’s use, 455, illus., 456; Polyclitus, 145, illus., 145; Renaissance, 521; rod-holder from Luristan, illus., 101; Roman use, 176, 177; Scythian, 102; Sung-shaped, 379; working of, 11, 12-13. $ ee dlso Cire-perdue process Bronze age, 31

Brook, Alexander (1898- ), 744 fn.

Brown, Ford Madox (1821-1893), 672 fn. Bruegel (or Breughel), Pieter the Elder (brii'-gul, pe'-tur) (i525?-is69), 542-45; Hunters in the Snow, 542 (Ulus.), 543, 544; Wedding Dance, 544-45, *Bw., 543 _

Bruges (briizh'), Belgium, 532-33, 541; Marriage of St. Catherine (Memlinc), 540, illus., 539 Brunelleschi, Filippo (broo-nS:l-l 5 s'-kS, fe-lSp'- po) (1379-1446), 436-38, 430; classic ruins, study of, 447; Florence cathedral dome, 433, 436-38, 447; Pazzi chapel, Santa Croce, Florence, 438, illus., 441 Brush, George de Forest (1855-1941), 688 Brush technique: Chinese, 381-82, 383; tapa- painting, 406. See also individual painters Brussels, Belgium: Jesuit churches, 545; St. Gudule, 545; tapestry-weaving, 546; Town Hall, 534, illus., 532

Bucholz Gallery, New York City, Reclining Figure (Moore), 777, illus., 780 Buddha (bood'-u). See Gautama Buddha Buddha Expounding the Law to His Mother, Maya. Borobudur, 203 (illus)

Buddhism and Buddhist art, 193-206; Ajanta caves, 203-05, illus., 205; animate life, unity and harmony of, 384; assembly halls, 200-01; Assembly Hall, Karle, 201 (illus.); China, 209, 215, 220-21; India, 220, 362, 373; Japan, 224-29, 390, 396; monasteries, 388; pagoda, 214; sculpture, 216-17; votive stele, 217, illus., 215; Zen Buddhism, 379, 380. See also Gautama Buddha

Buffalo, New York, Prudential (Guaranty) Building, 668

Building: Mesolithic, 40; Neolithic, 40 Building construction, 9-10; arch system, 10; concrete system, xo; lintel system, 9-10; materials, 9, 10; steel construction, 10. See also Architecture

8o8

INDEX

Bultos (carvings in the round), 634 Burchfield, Charles Ephraim (1893- ), 74861., 749; Civic Improvement, 749 ( Ulus )

Burgos cathedral (boor'-gos), Spain, 353 Burgundy, Dukes of, 532, 606 Burial customs, China, 215-16, 222, illus., 220, 221; Christian, early, 272; Egypt, 45, 78-79; Egypt, Seti I, Tomb of, dia g., 58; Etruscans, 169-70, illjis., 168, 170; Florence, 454; Hope- well art, 424; Mixtec, 414; Pueblo, 423; silk, 272; Sumerians, 83, 88; Tanagra figurines, 163; Zapotec, 4x4

Burial of the Count of Orgaz (or'-gath) (El Greco), 565-66, illus., 565 Burin (bu'rfn) (tool), 21 Burne-Jones, Sir Edward (1833-1898), 672 fn. Burning, of the Sanjo Palace, The (Heiji Mono- gatari), illus., 391

Bushmen (people), Africa, map, 400; painting, 403 {illus.), 404

Buttress, 316, 324, 325, 338, 340 {illus.), 341, illus., 335, 350; definition, 793. See also Flying buttress; Pier-buttress

Byodo-in monastery, Uji (byo:-do:-in, 00- ji), Japan, 10, 388

Byzantine (bf-z&n'-tfa) art, 249-74; architec- ture, 250-65; Basil I, 250; bibliography, 273- 74; Blake, William, 672; capitals, 262-63, illus., 116, 256, 263, 265; Duccio, influence on, 469; enamels, 270-72; Giotto, influences by, 473; goldwork, 265; Greco, El, 564, 565; iconoclasm, 249-50, 266-69; Italy, influence on, 5x6, 517; ivory-carving, 268-70; Justin- ian, 249; mosaic, 253, 264, 265, 267, 271, 272, 320; objective, 265, 272; ornament, 262-63; painting, 265-68, 281; painting, attitude to- ward, 473; Renaissance, influence on, 469, 472; Russia, influence on, 276-77, 279-80, 281, 282, 613; Sienese painting, 469, 470; silk, illus., 273; Spain, influence in, 563; stone- carving, 262-63, 268-70; supernatural gran- deur, 477; textiles, 270-7 2, illus., 273. See also Basilica; Domes; Santa Sophia Byzantium, map, 121

Ca d'Oro (ka-d6'-ro) palace, Venice, 442 (illus.) Cabanel, Alexandre (ka-M-nSp, a- 16 k-sa:dr') (1823-1889), 677 fn.

Cabrera, Miguel (1695-1 768) , 635 Cabriole, definition, 793

Caen (ka), France. See Abbaye-aux-Dames; Abbaye-aux-Hommes

Caffieri, Jacques (kaf-fyS-.'-re, zha:k') (1678- 1755), 603

Cairo, Egypt: domestic architecture, 294; Hospital of Kalaun, 293, illus., 292; Ibn Tulun, mosque of, 289, 292, illus., 285, 287; Kalaun, hospital of, 293, illus, 292; Mosque of Sultan Hassan, 289, illus., 287, 288, 289; tomb-mosque of Sultan Kait Bey, 290-91, illus., 287, 290, 291

Cairo Museum, Egypt: cedarwood chair, illus., 76; Geese of Metdum, illus., 50-51; Head of a Hawk, illus., 55; Hesire panel, 46, 47, illus., 48; Khafre, statue of, illus., 13; Ranofer, 53, 70- 71, illus., 54

Cadaver a: Don Quixote (Posada), 755 (illus.)

Calder, Alexander (1898- ), 778; Horizontal Spines, 779, illus., 781

Calendar: Aztec use, 416; Chartres cathedral, 344

California: architecture, 708, 717; missions, 633;

Spanish baroque, 633 Callicrates (architect), 118 Calligraphy: Arabic, 292, 295, 296; Celtic, 328; China, 218-22; Greek painting, 164 (illus.); Kufic script, 292; Neskhi script, 292; Roman- esque 328. See also Koran; Writing Calumny (Botticelli), 488, illus., 489 Calvinism, 579

Cambridge chapel of King’s College, 354 fn. Cameo-cutting, 19 1

Camera degli Sposi (ka/-m£:ra de :l'e spo-.’-ze), ceiling (Mantegna), 504, illus., 503 Cameron, Charles (1740-1812), 6x4 Camino Brent, Enrique (ka-me'no brSnt, Sn-rre-ku) (1909- ), 762 Campanile (kam-pa-ne'-lS:), 318-19; Angou- 16 me, 322; definition, 793; Florence, 435-36, 441, 446, illus., 439; Pisa, 318-19; Sant’ Apollixiare in Classe, Ravenna, illus., 254; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome, 252 fn. See also Tower

Canada: cession to England (1763), 640; churches, 639-40; folk art, 752; French Ameri- can art, 638-42; French exploration, 638; Georgian influence, 640; painting, 752-54, 768; wood-carving, 752 Canadian Group of Painters, 753 Canberra, Australia, 720 Cancelleria (kan-ch6 : 1-15 :-re'-a) , Rome, 457 Candia. See Crete

Candia Museum: cupbearer fresco from Knossos, 107 (illus.), xo8, 113; Flying Fish Fresco, 109-10, illus., 109; Harvester Vase , 114, illus., 1x6 ; Head of a Bull (painted clay relief), 113-14, Ulus., 1x2; Kamares Vase, 114 (illus.); Octopus Jar, 114 (illus.); prince or priest-king from palace at Knossos, 108, illus., 107; Toreador Scene (fresco), illus., 109 Canoes, Haida Indians, 652 Canon (Polyclitus), 144 fn.

Canterbury cathedral, England, 354 fn. Cantilever, 10, illus., 9; balconies, 709; Bauhaus, 71a; Brazil, 718; roofs, 708 Cantoria (kan-to-re'-a) , or Singing Gallery (Donatello), Florence cathedral, 450, illus., 449

Capitals, 126, illus., 125; abacus, 126, 128, 263, illus. x X2%; Aegean, 107; Byzantine, 260, 262- 64, illus., 264; Chartres, 346; Corinthian, 158, illus., X57, 159; definition, 793; Doric, 124-26, (illus); echinus, 125-28; Egyptian, 51, 66-67, illus., 61, 65; feathered-serpent, 409; Gothic, 346, 351; Ionic, 127-28, illus., 126; lotus, 363 fn.; Maya, 409; necking, _ 126, illus. 128; palace of Artaxerxes at Susa, Him., 100; palm, 51; papyrus, 66-67, Ulus., 6x; Persian, illus., too; Reims, 351; Romanesque, 319; San Vitale, ilhis., 264; Santa Sophia, 260; “storied,” 323

Caprices ( Goya), 572, illus., 573

Caracalla (k&r-u-kST-u) (portrait), 187 (illus)

Caracalla, Baths of, 179 (illus), 180

INDEX

809

Caravaggio (ka-ra-va:d'-jo), Michelangelo Amerighi (1569-1608), 515, 530, 563, 568 Card-Players , The (Cezanne), 726, illus., 725 Caribbean (k&rff-be'ifii) culture area, 628;

painting, 766—67 Carmen, El (Celaya), 621 Carnac, in Brittany, 40

Carpaccio, Vittore (kar-pa:'-ch6, vet-t6:'rS:) (1460-1522), 505; Dream of St. Ursula, 505, illus., 504

Carpets and rugs: Ardebil, 310, illus., 308; Japan, 388; Persian, 308-10; wool animal rug, 310, illus., 309 . See also Blankets; Tapestry Carracci (kar-rii:t'-che), 514 Carreno, Mario (kar-ran'yo) (1913- ), 766—67;

Afro-Cuban Dance, 766-67, illus., 768 Carson, Pirie, Scott and Company Building, Chicago, 668

Cartoon (preliminary drawing), 18; definition, 793

Carvallo, Teresa (kar-va'-yo, ta-rSh'-sa), (1903- ), 762 fn.

Carved and painted wooden chest, Haida In- dian, 653, illus., 655

Carved cocoanut shell (Melanesian), 407 (illus.). Carved goat horn spoon handles, Northwest coast Indian, 653, illus., 652 Carved prow of a canoe (Polynesian), illus., 406

Carving: Haida Indian, 653, illus., 655; Hindu, 374-76; intaglio, xi, 14, illus., 68, 87; Mela- nesian, 407 (illus.)-, Northwest coast Indian, 653, illus., 652; Oceania, 405-08; Polynesian, illus., 406; stone, xx-i 2; Sumerian, 87-88; wood, 12. See also Stone carving; Wood carving Caryatid, definition, 793, illus., 1 27 Casa de la Moneda, Santiago, Chile, 665 Casein painting, 17 Cashmere (textile), 376 Caso, Dr. Alfonso, 413, 414 Caspian Sea, map, 43 Caspicara (Chili, Manuel), 628 Cassatt, Mary (ku-s 3 i/) (1845-1926), 692 fn. Cassone (kas-so'-na) (chest), 439-40 (illus.); definition, 793

Castagno, Andrea del (kas-ta:h'-y6, an-drS'-a dSl) (1397-1457), 480; Youthful David, 480, illus., 479

Castelfranco Madonna (kas-tSl-frang'-ko) (Gior- gione), 507

Castillo, El (el kas-tel'-yo), pyramid temple, Chichen Itzd,, 409, 4x0, illus., 4x1 Catacombs, frescoes, 266 Cathedrals. See Amiens; Bamberg; Burgos; Canterbury; Chartres; Cologne; Cuzco; Dur- ham; Florence (Santa Maria del Fiore) ; Gloucester; Kazan; Lincoln; Louviers; Lucca; Mainz; Mexico City; Modena; Monreale; Moscow; Orvieto; Paris, see Notre Dame; Parma; Pisa; Puebla; Reims; Rouen; St. Basil’s; Saint Denis; St. John the Divine; Saint Paul’s; Saint Peter’s (Rome) ; Salisbury; Salvador; Seville; Siena; Speyer; Toledo; Uspenski; Winchester

Catherine II the Great (1762-1796), 613-14 Catherine Howard (Holbein the Younger), 551 (Him)

Cattle of Geryon (gSr'-i-un) (Euphronios), 152, illus., 15 1

Cavalcade of Mounted Youths, 142 (illus.), 143 Cavallini, Pietro (ka-val-le'-ne, pya'-tro) (fl. 1250-1330), 472

Cave temple (Hindu), 365, 367 (illus.)

Ceilings: beehive tomb, in; Brazil, 630, 632; Bromley room, 588, illus., 587; Camera degli Sposi (Mantegna), 504, illus., 502; chateaux, French, 598; coffer, 794; Dutch beamed, 581; Florentine palaces, 439; German interior (c. 1514), 550 (illus.); Greek tomb, illus., 111; hammerbeam, 587-88, illus., 586; High Ren- aissance, 459; Hindu, 364; Japan, 388, 395; Mexico, 618; Mudejar, 561, 618, 622, 628; Muhammadan, 294; open-timber, 587, 594; Renaissance, 717 fn.; Rome, 179; Scuola de San Rocco, 5x2 fn.; Sistine Chapel, 493-96; South American use, 622; Spanish, 561 (illus) Celadon ware (sSl'-u-dSn), 385 Celia (sSl'-u), 793, illus., 123 Cellini, Benvenuto (chS:l-le'-ne, bS :n-vS :-noo tS) (1500-1571), 521; France, 597; saltcellar of gold, illus., 521

Celtic art: illumination, 327-28; metalwork, 330 Cement, 122, 253

Centennial Flouring Mills Company, Spokane, Washington, concrete grain elevator, 7x5, illus., 7x4

Center (wooden framework), 175; definition, 793 Center Church, New Haven, 646 Central America: climate, 230-32; geography, 230-32; map, 231; native arts, 701. See also Latin American art

Central type church building, 257-58, 263-64; Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 257-58, illus., 258; San Vitale, 258, illus., 256, 258; Santa Sophia, 258-63, illus:, 259, 261, 262 Ceramics (keramics): definition, 793; form, 15- 17. See also Pottery

Ceramicus (sSr-u-ml'-kus), potters’ quarters, Athens, 146

Ceremonial dipper (Hindu), 375 (illus.), 376 Ceremonial Vase (Egypt), illus., 55 Cervetri (chS:r-vSt'-re), sarcophagus from, illus., 168

Cezanne, Paul (s§,-za:n', p6D (1839-1906), 7, 723-26, 728, 729, 767; Card-Players, The, 726, illus., 725; Mont Sainte Victoire, 725-26, illus., 724; nature, quoted on, 724; Renaissance,

725

Chacmool figure, 409-10

Chaco Canyon (ch&'ko), 423

Chagall, Marc (sha-gal') (1887- ), 738 fn., 747

Chaitya hall (chit'-yu), 200 fn.

Chaldean art, 96-97; architecture, 97; bibli- ography, 103

Chalice, 358; Ardagh, 330 (illus.); Byzantine, 271 (illus.); definition, 793; eleventh century, 271 (illus); St. Remi, Reims, 358, 359 Chalukyan dynasty (ch&-loo:'-ki ftn), 363 fn.; temple plan, illus., 366

Chambord (sha-b 6 :r 0 , chateau of, 598, illus., 597 Chamfer, definition, 793 Champlev6 (sha-)u-va') (enameling process), 23, illus., 359; definition, 794; Gothic, 358-59 Chan Chan (city), 418, map, 231

8io

INDEX

Chapels: apsial, diag., 339; Arena, 473.~74> Ulus., 473, 475! Brancacci, 493; Cambridge, 354; Chartres, 336, Ulus., 335; Egyptian, 46; Gloucester, 354, Ulus., 353; Henry VII, 354, Ulus., 355; Medici, 444; Meidum, Egypt, 48, 56, illus., 50, 51; Pazzi, 438, Ulus., 441; St. Paul’s, New York, 646; San Brizio, 483; Santa Croce, 438, Ulus., 441; Scrovegni, 473 fn.; Westminster Abbey, 354; Windsor Abbey, 354, Ulus., 355

Chapter House: Lincoln cathedral, 354; West- minster Abbey, Ulus., 356 Charcoal (carbon), 20

Chardin (shar-de') Jean-Baptiste Simeon (1699- 1779), 611; Saying Grace, 611 ( illus .); Still Life, 611, illus., 612

Charging Mammoth, engraved on ivory tusk, illus., 33

Charioteer of Delphi, 138, illus., 139 Charlemagne, 3x3

Charles I, English king (1600-1649), $92; Van Dyck’s portraits of Ms cMldren, 545-46 Charles IV, Spanish, king (1748-18x9), 570-71;

Goya portrait, 570, illus., 571 Charles V, Spanish king (r. 1808-13), 563 Charles VIII, French king (1470-1498), 596 Chariot, Jean (shar-lo', zha/), 7 56 Charlotte of France (J. Clouet), 607, illus., 606 Chartres cathedral (shartrO, 333-34, 335-48; airview, illus., 335; building enthusiasm, 333”34j buttressing, diag., 341; chapels, 336, illus., 335; facades, 341-42; figures, symbolic, 346; influence on other cathedrals, 349; loca- tion, 335, illus., 333; nave, illus., 337; north porch, 344-46, illus., 344; plan, 336, diag., 339; stained glass, 346-47; towers, 342; tracery, 798, Ulus., 333; vaulting, 341 (« Hag .); western portal, 343, illus., 342; window-makers of, 786

Chase, William Merritt (1849-1916), 687 fn., 688, 693 fn.

Chasing, definition, 794, illus., 521 Chateau (clia-to') : Blois, wing of Francis 1, 598, illus., 596; Chambord, 598, illus., 597; gardens, 6or; medieval, 597—98; Ramezay, Montreal, 639

Chavannes. See Puvis de Chavannes Chavin (cha-ven'), Peru, 244, map, 231 Chellean age (shgl-le'-un), 31 Ck’en Jung. Wave and Dragon, illus., 247 Cheops (ke'-5ps) , 49, illus., 45 Chester Dale Collection, New York City, Still Life: Apples on a Fink Tablecloth (Matisse), 732, iUus., 731

Chesterton, Gilbert Keith, on reading books, quoted, 3

Chetro Ketl (Rain Village), 423

Chevet (shu-vS'), 336, 339> diags., 338, 339;

definition, 794. See also Ambulatory Chevron, definition, 794 Chiaroscuro (kyar-6s-k6o:'~ro), 6, 506, 515, 517, 563; definition, 794. See also Tenebrists Chibcha culture, 763

Chicago, Illinois: Carson, Pirie, Scott and Com- pany Building, 668; industrial buildings, 667-68, illus., 665; Lincoln statue, 771; Mar- shall Field wholesale house, 667-68, illus., 665;

Mounted Indian (Me§trovi£), 773, illus., 772; Robie House (F. R. Wright), 707-08, illus., 706; Schlesinger-Mayer Building, 668; Tribune Tower, 713; World’s Columbian Exposition (1893), 668, illus., 667. See also Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago Natural History Museum: burial girdle (Han dynasty), 222, illus., 220; carved cocoa- nut shell (Melanesian), 407 (illus.); CMlkat blanket with bear design, 654 (illus.), 655; Chimera (Han dynasty), illus., 221; dioramas of prehistoric man, 30 fn.

CMchen Itzd, (che-chan' et-sa') , 409; El Castillo, 409, illus., 411; map, 231; Temple of the War- riors, 409, 410, illus., 41 1, fresco, illus., 412 Ch’ien Lung period (chy&n-loong), China, 428 Chile, painting, modern, 763-64 Chili, Manuel (Caspicara). 628 Chilkat blankets (cbll'-k&t), 654 (illus.), 655 Chimera (ki-me'ru) : Florence, 170; Han dynasty, illus., 221

Chimu (che'-moo), art and culture, 239, 240-42, 245, 418; Duck jar, 241, Ulus., 240; map, 231; portrait jar, 241, illus., 240; pottery, 240-41 China and CMnese art, 40, 206-22, 378-84; ancestor worsMp, 208, 2x1, 215, 216; archi- tecture, 212-15; bibliography, 386-87; Bod- hisattva, 202 fn.; bronzes, 734; Buddha, 216-17; Buddha, in sculpture, 201-02; Bud- dhism, 209, 2x5; calligraphy, 218-22; climate, 206-07; conservatism, 206, 212; copying, 222; expression, concept of, 20; familjr, 208; foreign influences, 206; geography, 206; jades, 221-22, illus., 219, 221; Japanese art, compared with, 223-24, 227, 229; Jesuits, 428; Kuan-yin, 209; map, 195, 207; metalwork, 210-12; painting, 218-22, 380-84; people, 222; poetry, 218, 219, 220; population, 206; porcelains, 603; pottery, 17, 384-85; prehistoric, 40; religion, 208; sculpture, 215-18, 222, 226; tombs, 215; tools, 221; writing, 2x8, 219 Chinanpin, Chinese teacher, 381 Chinese ink, 18, 19 CMnese Turkestan, 206 CMntz (fabric), 376 CMos, map, x 21

CMppendale, Thomas (d. 1779), 59 2 Chirico, Giorgio de (ke'-re-k6, jSr'jo d£), (1888- ), 738 fn.

Chiswick House, 590

Chiton (kl'-tun) (Greek tunic), 794, illus., 141, 143; defimtion, 794

Choir (kwir), 338-39 (diags.); Canterbury cathe- drals 354; Chartres cathedral, 336, 339; defirn- tion, 794; Gloucester cathedral, illus., 353; Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339; San Clemente, Rome, 338; stalls, 358, definition, 794. See also Apse

Choir books, 522, illus., 523 Chosroes (kSz'-ro-ez) (Khosrau) I (a.d. 531- 579), 298; Hunting Ibexes (silver plate), illus.,

301

Chosroes (Khosrau) II (590-628), 298, 299; stone carving with winged griffin, Ulus., 300 Chou dynasty (jo), 208-10, 213; jades, 222 Christ (interpretations in art forms) : as a child, see Madonna; as an adult, see Crucifixion;

INDEX

81 1

Descent from the Cross; Entombment; Jesus; Lamentation; Last Supper; Pieta; Resurrec- tion; Santo; Supper at Emmaus; Temptation; Trinity

Christ (Martins), 775, illus ., 778 Christ Crowning Romanus and Eudocia, 269-70, illus., 268

Christ Healing the Sick (Rembrandt), 580-81, illus., 579

Christ: “Man of Sorrows” (santo), 634, illus., 635 Christian art. See Gothic art; individual coun- tries; Renaissance; Romanesque Christian art, early, 249-74, 321; architecture, 250-65; bibliography, 273-74; enamels, 270- 72; iconography, 254-67; ivory-carving, 268- 70; monogram, sacred, 269; objective, 272; ornament, 262-63; painting, 265-68; sculp- ture, 268, 269; stone-carving, 262-63, 268-70; symbols, 254; textiles, 270-72. See also Basilica; Central type church building; Domes Christianity, rise and spread of, 399 Chuguji Nunnery (chu-gu-je), Japan, illus., 225 Chun ware (choon), 385 (illus.)

Church, Frederick Edwin (1826-1900), 686 fn. Church at Daphne, Greece, illus., 265 Church at Ranchos de Taos (O’Keeffe), 747, illus., 746

Churches. See Basilicas; Cathedrals; Central type church building; individual countries — architecture

Churriguera, Jos6 (cMr"I-g&r'u, ho-sa') (1650- i7 2 3)» 55b

Churrigueresque (chur"i-gu-resk') architecture, 556—57, 573, 620

Ciborium, definition, 794, illus., 433 Cimabue (che-ma-boo:'£:) (c. 1240-1301), 472, 473

Circumambulation (rite), 199, 362 Cire-perdue process (se:r-pSr-du')> 12, 212, 394, 403, 415, 521 fn; definition, 794 Cithaeron, Mount, map, 121 City, The (Leger), 735, illus., 661 City Art Museum, St. Louis, Folke Filbyter (Milles), replica of the original in Linkoping, Sweden, 773 (illus.)

Civic Improvement (Burchfield), 749 (illus.) Classical culture, revival of, 429, 436, 438, 466 Classical decorative motifs, 436 Classicism: chart, 722; David, 674; effect of, 664-65; France, 674, 675; Ingres, 674, 675; Latin America, 697 ; United States, 666 Claude-Gell6e. See Gell6e Claude-Lorrain (klSd ld-re 7 ) . See Gell6e Clay: Chinese use, 24, 2x5; Etruscan use, 169; pottery, use in, 15-16; Roman use, 190; sculpture, use in, 12; sculpture models, 771; Tanagra figurines, 164 Clay Bisons, cavern of Tuc d’Audoubert, 37 Clerestory (klgr'sto'rl) : Amiens, illus., 345;

definition, 794; Early Christian, 251, 252; ■ Egypt, 51, 66, illus., 64; Gothic use, 320, 336, 338, 339, illus., 340; Maxentius’ basilica, Rome, illus., 178; Roman, 175, illus., 178; Romanesque, 314, 317, 320, 325; Sant’ Am- brogio, Milan, illus., 340; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 252; Spain, 323, 355 Cleveland Muse um of Art: Stag at Sharkey’s, A

(Bellows), 696, illus., 695; Shiva as Nataraja, Lord of the Dance, 367, illus., 368 CKff Palace (pueblo), 422 Cloison, 23; definition, 794 Cloisonne (klwa-sS-na/) (enameling process), 23; Byzantine, 270-71 (illus.)-, definition, 794; Gothic, 358-59; Romanesque, 330, illus., 329 Cloisonnism, 727 fn.

Cloister, 353 , illus., 318, 352; definition, 794. See also Ambulatory

Cloth Hall, Ypres, 534, illus., 533 Clouet, Jean (kloo-e, aha') (fl. about 1516- 1546), 607; Charlotte of France, 607, illus., 60 6 Clustered pier, 316, 324, 336, 340, illus., 317, 337;

definition, 794 Cnidus (nx'dus) , map, 1 2 1 Coatlicue (Lady of the Skirt of Serpents), statues, 4x6 (illus.)

Codesido, Julia (1892- ), 762; Indian Women before a Chapel, 762, illus., 763 Codex: definition of, 266 fn.; Maya, 412; Spanish post-conquest, 634

Coffer, definition, 794, illus., 176, 253 Coin type, definition, 794 Coins and coinage: Greek, 153, 155, illus., 154; intaglio, 796; obverse, 797; pattern or design, 794

Cole, Thomas (1801-1848), 686 fn.

Coleman, Glenn (1887-1932), 748 fn.

Collage (ko-lazh') (papier colU), 734, 738, 740;

definition, 794. See also Montage Collection de Clercq, Paris, Sargon I (king), seal of, 87, illus., 88

Colleoni (kol-lS:-o:'-nS) (Verrocchio); 455-56, illus., 457

Cologne cathedral, 355

Colombia, 628; map, 231; painting, modern, 763 Colonna (ko-lftn'-na) palace, Rome, 528 Colonnade, definition, 794, illus., x 18 Colonnette, definition, 794, illus., 449 Colophon, 306, 328, 794; definition, 794 Color, 4, 6-7, illus., 5; abstraction, 473, 735; Ach- aemenian, xoo; American Indian, 652; Anto- nello da Messina, 504; Baroque, 529; Bellini’s (Giovanni), use, 505; Bonnard, P., use of, 730; book illustration, 522, 524; Botticelli’s use, 488, 489; Braque’s use, 735; Brazil, use in, 718, 719; Brueghel the Elder, 542; Byzantine, 270-71; capacity to express depth, 7; Carpac- cio’s use, 505; Carreno’s use, 766; Cashmere textiles, 376; cassone, 440; Cezanne’s use, 723, 724; Chardin’s use, 611; Chimu use of, 241; Chinese use of, 2x3-14, 2x9; Clouet’s use, 607; Constable’s use, 671; coolness, 7, 794; Cra- nach’s use, 552; Daumier’s use, 677; Davis, Stuart, 747; definition, 6; Delacroix’s use, 675, 676; domestic architecture (20th cent.), 717; Duccio’s use, 469; dyes, 547; Eakins’ use, 691; Egyptian use, 53, 54, 55; enamels, 165, 270-71; Etruscan use, 169-71; Eurasia, central, 102; Fauves, les, 732; Flemish use, 535, 537) 54°, 542; Florentine use, 439; Fra Angelico, 484, 486; Francesco, P. della, 484; fresco, 18, 203, 204; Georgian use, 592; German expressionism, 737; Giorgione’s use, 507, 509; glazing, 16; Gothic use, 335) 346, 348; Goya’s use, 571, 572; Greco, El, use, 565, 566, 567; Greek use

812 INDEX

of, 109, 124, 128, 143; Hindu use, 203, 204, 376; Holbein’s use, 551; hue, 7 ; Impressionism, 681-82, 692, 728; India cottons, 376; Ingres, quoted on, 674; intensity, 7; ivories, 270; Japanese use, 224-26, 229, 388, 389, 391, 394, 396; juxtaposition, 676, 682; Latin-American use, 701; Le Corbusier’s use, 7x1; Le Nain’s use, 607; Leger’s use, 735; machine art, 783, 785, 786; majolica, 522; Manet’s use, 678; Marin, John, 746; masks, Indian, 653; Matisse’s use, 731-32; Maya use, 234, 409-12; Melanesian use, 407; metalwork, 24; Ming use, 385 ; Miro, J., use of, 740; Mondrian’s use, 735; mosaics, 253; Muhammadan use of, 293-94, 296; Navaho blankets, 658; Nazca use, 241; neoplasties, 735; organization, 3; Orozco, 758-59; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; Pelaez’s use, 766; Persian use, 303, 304, 306, 307; Picasso’s use, 734-35; Ponce de Le6n, 766; Portinari’s use, 766; Poussin’s use, 609; prehistoric use, 31; psychic effect, 7; Pueblo use, 423 ; Puvis de Chavannes, 680; qualities, 7; relationships, 6-7; Rembrandt’s use, 576-78; Renaissance use, 469, 470, 486; Renoir’s use, 682, 683; Rivera’s use, 757-58; Rococo use, 602-03; Roman use of, 184, 188; Rubens’ use of, 545; Russian use, 277, 281, 283, 284; St. Peter’s Rome, 526; Seurat’s use, 683-84; Sienese use, 469; Spanish use, 560-61; Speicher’s use, 744; Sumerian use of, 84, 85; surface on which it falls, 7; surrealism, 739-40; tapestry, 359; terra cotta, 454; texture, 22; Tintoretto’s use, 5x2; Titian’s use, 510, 511; totems, 652; twentieth-century use, 718; value, 7; Van Gogh’s use, 726-28; Velasquez’ use, 568; Venetian love of, 501, 506 ; Veronese’s use, 513; Versailles, 662; Vinci, Leonardo da, 490; warm, 7; Watteau, 610, 61 1; wheel, 6, 7; windows, 534; woodblocks, 21. She Pigment Colorado, 421

Colorado Springs Fine Art Center, Cristo: “ Man of Sorrows 634, illus., 635 Colosseum (kSl-S-se'-um) or Flavian amphi- theater, Rome, 178-79, 250, illus., 180 Columbus, Christopher, 429 Columns: Academic use, 465; Achaemenian use of, 99-100, 102; Aegean, 107, illus., 108, X12; American colonial use, illus., 643, 645; Amun, temple of, Kamak, illus., 61; Ainun, temple, Luxor, 66, illus., 65; basilica, early Christian use of, 252, illus., \2 $t, bee- hive tombs, 1 1 2; Byzantine use, 262-63, illus., 263; Chartres cathedral, 337, 343; Chinese use of, 213; Companla, Quito, 627; Corinthian, 157, 158; Crete, illus., 105; defini- tion, 794, illus., 125 ; Doric, 124, illus., 124, 125; Egyptian, 51, 60, 67, illus., 61, 64; engaged, 176 fn., 178, 299. 337, 457; entasis, 125, 126, illus., 125; Erechtheum, illus., 126; Etruscan use, 169; Famese palace, 457; feathered-serpent, 409; Flemish painting, use in, 537, illus., 535; fluting, 79s; French use, 600; Gothic use, 343; Hindu use of, 201 (illus.), 364; Ionic, illus., 125, 126; Japan, use of, 225, 388; Knossos, 107, 112, illus., 105; Maya, 409; palm, 51; papy- rus cluster bud (Egypt), 66-67, Ulus., 61; papyrus flower (Egypt), 66-67, illus., 61;

Parthenon, 125-27, illus., 124; peristyle, 184, 797, diag., 185; Roman use, 179, 180, 184, 188; Romanesque, 316, 317, 319, illus., 318, 319; San Francisco, Quito, 626; San Lorenzo, Potosl, illus., 617; Santa Sophia, 260; Sas- sanian use, 295, 299 (illus.)’, shaft, 798, illus., 125; Sicily, 320; superimposed, 442, 459, illus., 458, 465 (illus.)] Trajan, 182; twentieth- century use, 7x8; Venice, use in, illus., 442; Wright’s (F. L.) use of, 709. See also Capitals; Entablature

Comedie-Francaise, Paris, Voltaire (Houdon), 606, illus., 604

Commonwealth (England) , 585 Communication, 788 Companla, La, Arequipa, 623, illus., 625 Companla, La, Quito, 626-27, illus., 628; nave, 627, illus., 629

Composition (Miro), 740, illus., 744 Composition in White, Black, arid Red (Mon- drian), 735, illus., 736 Compound pier. See Clustered pier Compton Wynyates, Warwickshire, England, 586-87, illus., 585 Concavities, Archipenko’s use, 777 Concert (Titian) , 509

Concert, The (Ter Borch), 582, illus., 581 _ Concrete construction, 10, illus., 9; Brazil, 718; Maya, 233; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; rein- forced, 10; Roman, 174, 178; Wright, F. L., use of, 708

Cone, 724, illus., 8, 17 Confucianism, 208, 209 Congo River, 399, map, 400 Congregational worship, 362 Connick, Charles J., 786 Conquistador (kon-kes-ta-dor’), Spanish, 617, 618, 621

Console, definition, 794, illus., 603 Constable, John (kun'sta-b’l; k6n') (1776- 1837), 670-71; color juxtaposition, 676; Hay Wain, 670-71, illus., 670 Constantinople, Turkey, 249, 286. See also Santa Sophia

Constellation built by Lockheed Aircraft Corp., illus., 785

Constructivists (Russian), 710 Container Corporation of America, Weakness Into Strength (advertising design) (H. Bayer), illus., 787

Convention: American Indian use, 6x8, 651, 652, 653, 654; Argentina, 625; Aztec use, 416; Byzantine, 269, 272; Chinese use, 217, 218, 241, 380, 381, 383; Christian, early, use of, 256; Christian church, 321-22; Egyptian use, 48, 56, 72, 80; England, 586; Faggi, Alfeo, use of, 773; Flemish painting, 540; Gill, Eric, use of, 773; Gothic use, 342, 343, 346; Greece, 131, 135; Hindu, 197, 200, 203; Hopewell art, 424; Japan, 226, 227, 229; Japanese gardens, 389; Latin American use, 701; Maya use, 412; mudras, 197, 202, 203; Pisano, N., use of, 434; primitive art, 408; Pueblo use, 423, 424; Swedish use, 785; totems, 652 Convents, in Mexico, 618-19, 620 Cool color, definition, 794 Copan (ko-p&n') (Maya city), now in Hon-

INDEX

duras, 232, 234, map, 231; Maize God, 235- 36, illus., 234; Mayan vase, Ulus., 236 Copernicus (ko-pur'-ni-kus), Polish astronomer (I473-I543), 429

Copley (kbp'le), John Singleton (1737-1815), 648; Lady Wentworth, 648 {illus.)

Copper: Hopewell use, 424; Maya culture, 232;

Sumerian use, 84, 88, 89 Coptic Christians, 286, 296 Coptic textiles of Egypt, 271, illus., 272 Copying: Byzantine, 264; Chinese, 222 Corbel, illus., 9; Aegean, in, 112; definition, 794; Maya, 233; table, 794; Tiryns citadel, no (illus.)

Corbeled arch, definition, 794, illus., 9, no, 232 Corbett, Harrison & McMurray (architects), 7i3

Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, Pathetic Song, The (Eakins), illus., 688 C6rdoba, Spain, 294; Custodia, 560, illus., 559; leatherwork, 560

Coricancha (Place of Gold), Cuzco, 418 Corinth, Greece, map, 121 Corinthian architectural order: capital, 158,: illus., 157; Colosseum, Rome, 179; Rome, 158, 179; Temple of the Olympian Zeus, 158, illus., 157,159

Corinthian Oinochoe, illus., 149 Corn Stele, from Piedras Negras, 235 (illus.) Corneille de Lyon (lt6r-nay du lyo r ), 607 Corneto (kor-nS :’-t6) (Etruscan site), 168, 170- 71, illus., 170, 171

Cornice: classical, ^$6, illus., 125; definition, 794; Farnese palace, 457, 459; Hindu use, 363; Louvre, 598; Mexico, 6x9; Muhammadan art, 291; raking, illus., 125; St. Peter’s, 461; San Francisco, Quito, 626; Siphnian Treasury, illus., 129; Sistine Chapel, 493 ; skyscraper, 668; Venetian use, 442. See also Dentil; Entabla- ture

Coronado, Francesco (c. 15 10-1554), 632-33, 656 Coronation of the Virgin (Fra Angelico), 486, illus., 484

Corot (kd-r6'), Jean Baptiste Camille (1796- 1875), 676—77

Correggio, Antonio Allegri da (kor-rSd'-jo, an-tS'-ne-o al- 15 :g'-re da) (1494-1534), 513-14; Assumption, 514 (illus) ', Danae, 514; frescoes, 530; Holy Night, 513-14 Cortfis, Hernfin, Spanish conqueror (1485-1547),

" 6x8

Cortona, Pietro da (kor-to :'-na, pyat'-ro da) (1596-1669), 526

Cosmati work, 319-20 (illus.), 435, 469 Costumbrista painters, 697, 698-99 Cotton: fibers, 22; textiles, Hindu use of, 376 Counter-Reformation, 464 fn., 525, 545 Courbet, Gustave (koor-b6', gii-sta:v') (18x9- 1877), 677, •678; Mere Grigoire, La, 677, illus., 676

Couture, Thomas (koo-tir.r', t6-ma/) (1815- 1879), 677 fri.

Covarrubias, Miguel (k 6 v- 3 .r-roob’-yas, me-gal') (1904- ), 756

Cox, Kenyon (1856-1919), 688 Crafts. See Handcrafts Cramp, definition, 794, illus., 122

813

Cranach the Elder, Lucas (kra'-nakh, loo'-kas) (1472-1553), 552, 553; Crucifixion, 552, illus., 553

Crater (wine bowl), 147 (illus), 148; definition, 794; Francois, 149 (illus), 150; Hildesheim, 190 (illus)

Creation of Adam (Michelangelo), 496, illus., 495 Creole Dance (Figari), 765 (ill-us.)

Crete, Greek island: civilization, 106, 1 19; cli- mate, 105; craftsmen, 114; dagger blades, 1x6; Evans’ excavations at, 104; history of, 106 fn.; map, 43, 121, 195; occupations, 105; people, 104-05; religion, 105-06. See also Minos, palace at Knossos

Cristo: “ Man of Sorrows," 634, illus., 635 Critic, role of, 1-2

Crivelli, Carlo (kre-vSl'-le) (c. 1430 — after 1493), textile painting, 522 fn.

Crocket, 349, illus., 346; definition, 794 Cro-Magnon race (kro'-man-yo'), 31, 32, 35 Crome, John (1768-1821), 594 Cromlech, 40, illus., 41 ; definition, 794 Crosses: Greek 796; Latin, 796 Crossing, Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339; defini- tion, 794, illus., 338

Crown of an arch or vault, definition, 794 Crucifixion (Cimabue), 473; (Cranach), 552, illus., 553; (Mantegna), 502-03, illus., 501; (Perugino) 496-97, illus., 497; (G. Pisano), illus., 435; (N. Pisano), illus., 434 Crusades, 312, 3x4, 331, 332 Crystal Palace, London, England, 666 Ctesiphon (tSs'-H 5 n) (near Baghdad), 298, 301;

excavations, 299 fn.; palace at, 299 (illus) Cuba, modern painting, 766 Cube, 724, illus., 8

Cubism, 710, 729, 730, 733—35; abstraction, direction of, 747; analytical, 734; Argentina, 765; chart, 722; Matisse, 731; Pelfiez, A., 766; Pelloruti, 765; Sheeler, 747; synthetic, 734. See also Braque; Duchamp; L6ger; Picasso Cuernavaca (kwSr-na-va'-ka) , Palace of Cortez, Rivera fresco, 758 (illus.)

Culture, evolution of, 788 Cuneiform, definition, 794, illus., 86, 88 Curry, John Steuart (1897-1946), 749 fn. Custodia (Cordova), 560, illus., 559 Custodia, definition, 795; illus., 559 Custom House (Sub-Treasury), New York City, 665

Cuzco (k 56 s'ko), Peru, 418-20, 621, map, 231; baroque, 618; cathedral, 623, illus., 622; earth- quake of 1650 , 623; painting, 635-36; San Bias, canopied pulpit, 624 (illus) ', San Sebastian, 623-24, 625, 626; Spanish style, 622-23; Vir- gin surrounded by Angels and a Donor, 636, illus., 637

Cycladic culture, defined, 105 Cyclopean walls, no

Cylinder, 724, Ulus., 8, 17; African Negro use, 402; grain elevator, 715, illus., 714; Hindu use, 200; Japanese art, 228; Lehmbruck’s use, 775; Odd, J. J. P., use of, 710-11; Salvador cathe- dral, 632; twentieth-century use, 7x0-11; Zorach’s use, 775 Cylinder seal. See Seals Cylix(s!'-llks), 146 (illus), 148; decoration, 152^

INDEX

814

definition, 795; Duris, painted by, illus., 153; Euphronios, painted by, 152, illus., '151;. Exekias, 152, illus., 154 Cyrene (si-re'-ne), Apbxodite of, 159 (illus.)

Dadaism (da'da"Iz-m), 738, chart, 722, See also Arp; Ernst Dado, definition, 795 Daguerreotype (du-gSr'u-tip), 685 Dahomey (du-ho'me), Africa, map, 400 Daily News building, New York City, 713 Daimio (dim'yo) (landed baron) , 387 Dali, Salvador (da-le, sal-va-dor') (1904- ), 738 fn., 747; Persistence of Memory, The, 739- 40, illus., 739

Damascening (dtim"u-se'ning), 23, illus., 306; definition, 793

Damascus, Syria, mosques, 286 fn.

Damask (textile), 296 fn.

Dame (dan'- 4 -S) (Correggio), 514 Dance of Death (Holbein the Younger), 551, illus., 552

Dancer and Gazelles (Manship), 772, illus., 770 Dancers Dressing (Degas), 679, illus . 680 Dancing: African Negro, 399; Hindu, 205; Pueblo, 422

Dank and Virgil in Purgatory (Botticelli), 489, illus., 488

Daphne (dSf'-nfc), Greece, church at, illus., 265 Darius I the Great, 98-99 Dart-thrower , illus. ,32

Daubigny, Charles-Frangois (dd-ben-ye: 7 , sharf M-SW&') (1817-1878), 676 fn.

Daumier, Honord (do-mya', 6 - n6-rS') (1808- 1879), 677; Tenants and Landlords: “ After Midnight,” 678 {illus .) ; Uprising, The, 678, illus., 679

David, Jacques Louis (da-ved', zha:k' lwe') (1748-1825), 674; Oath of the Horatii, 674 David (Andrea del Castagno), 480, illus., 479 David (Michelangelo), 432, 433 Davies, Arthur B. (1862-1928), 69461., 695; quoted, 743

Da Vinci. See Vinci, Leonardo da Davis, Stuart (1894- ), 747 ; Summer Land- scape, 747, illus., 748 Day (Michelangelo), 464, illus., 463 Day of the God, The (Gauguin), 728, illus., 729 Debret, Jean-Baptiste, 699 Decorative Nude (Michelangelo), illus., 493 Deer and Salmon, 34, illus., 35 Degas, Edgar (du-ga/ §,d-ga:r') (1834-1917), 678-79; Dancers Dressing, 679, illus., 680 Deir el-Bahri (dar'-ul-bah'-re), Thebes. See Hatshepsut, temple of;

DSjeuner sur VHerbe (du-zhu-nS, stir FS:rb') (Manet), 678

Delacroix, Eugene (du-la-krwa', d-zhSn') (1798- 1863), 675-76; Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople, 675-76, illus., 675 De la Pasture, Roger. See Weyden, Rogier van der

Delos (de'lds), 129 fn., map, 121 Delphi, Greece, 157; map, 121 Delphi Museum: Charioteer of Delphi, 138, illus., 139; Siphnian treasury, cornice fragment, illus., 129

Demarateion (dS-mii-rii-ti'-dn) (coin), 153, illus.,

154

Demeter, Temples of: Cnidus, 159, illus., 156; Paestum, 124

Demuth, Charles (1883-1935), 745 fn.

Denis, Maurice, on Gauguin, quoted, 727-28 Dentils, definition, 795 Departure (Beckmann), 737, illus., 738 Derain, Andre (du-re', a-dra') (1880- ), 732 fn. Descartes (da-kart'), Ren6, 525 Descent from the Cross (R. van der Weyden), 539-40, illus., 537

Descent of Ganga, The ( The Birth of the Ganges River), Mammallapuram, 368, illus., 369 Desiderio da Settignano (dSi-se-dt'-ryo da sS:t-ten-ya:'-no) (1428-1464), 454-55; Tomb of Carlo Marsuppini, 454 {Ulus.), 455 Despiau, Charles (dds-pe-6', sharj') (1874- 1946), 773; Antoinette Schulte, 773, illus., 774 Detroit Institute of Arts, Wedding Dance (Brue- gel the Elder), 544-45, illus., 543 Dewing, Thomas W. (1851-1938), 688, 693 fn. Dexamenos (dSks-am'-e-n6s) (Greek engraver),

• 55

Diana. See Artemis

Die Neue Sachlichkeit. See Neue Sachlichkeit Dikkeh (tribune), 287 {diag.)

Diocletian, Palace of, Spalato, 183 fn.

Diorite (stone), 53, 55 Diptych, definition, 795 Dipylon Gate (dip'-i-l 5 n), 146, 147 Dipylon ware, 147-48, 152, illus., 148 Discobolus (cus-c 5 b- 6 -lus) of Myron, 138-39, illus., 138

Disputd (des-poo-ta:') (Raphael), 498-99, illus., 499

Divine Comedy (Dante), Botticelli’s illustrations, 489, illus., 488

Divisionism (broken color), 671, 682; definition, 795

Dix, Otto (1891- ), 737 Doesburg, Theo van (d^z'burg, the'o van), 710

Dolmen, 40; definition, 795 Domes: Baroque use, 527, illus., 5 26, 530; Bru- nelleschi, 423; bulbous, 277-80, 281 {illus.)', Byzantine use, 260, 264; central type church, 527-28; Daphne, church at, illus., 265; drums, 122, 264, illus., 265; Florence cathedral, 436- 38, 447, illus., 439; Herreran use, 556; H6tel des Invalides, 600 {illus.); Kazan cathedral, 614; Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 257; modem use, 262; Muhammadan use, 260, illus., 288, 290; “onion,” 614; Orozco decora- tions, 758-59, illus., 761; Pantheon, illus., 176, 177; Parma cathedral, Correggio decoration, 514 {illus.); pendentives, 261-62, illus., 9, 260; Persia, 303-04; polygonal plan, 304; Puebla cathedral, 619; Qum, 303; rectangular plan, 304; Roman use of, 176, 180, illus., 176, 177; Romanesque, 318; Royal mosque, Isfahan, 303, illus., 302; Russia, 277-80, 281 {illus), 614; St. Mark’s, Venice, 265; St. Paul’s, Lon- don, 588-89, illus., 588; St. Peter’s, illus., 459, 460 (illus.), 461 {Ulus.), 462, 526; Santa Maria della Salute, Venice, 527, illus., 526; Santa Sophia, 258, 259 {illus.), 260 {illus.), 261

I

INDEX

815

( Ulus .); squinches, Ulus., 9, 260; stilted, 798- 99; tile-covered, 6x9, 620, 621. See also Stupa Dominican order, 430 Domitian (do-mish'i-un) Palace, 183 Don Cristobal (don kres-to'-bal) (J. de Arfe), 562 Donatello (do-na-tSl'-lo) (1386-1466), 431, 433, 436, 445-47; Cantoria, or Singing Gallery, Florence cathedral, 450, Ulus., 449; Erasmo da Narni, called Gatiamelata, 447, 450, Ulus., 449; Herod’s Feast (bronze relief), 450, Ulus., 448; Jeremiah, 447, Ulus., 446; Mule before the Host, The, 450, illus., 448; real name, 476 fn.; realism and formal structure, 454; relief, 450; St. George, 445-47, Ulus., 447; sculptural concept, 453; Zuccone, 447, illus., 446 Donjon (do-zho:'), definition, 795 Doria Gallery, Rome, Innocent X (VeMsquez), 570, illus., 568

Doric architectural order, 122-28; Colosseum, Rome, 179; disappearance, 158; frieze, in Doric Greeks, 106, 1x9, 120 Doryphorus (do-rff'-o-rus) (Polyclitus), 144 fn. Doughty (do'-tl), Thomas (1793-1856), 686 fn. Dowel, 122; definition, 795 Downtown Gallery, New York City, Totems in Steel (Sheeler), 747 (Ulus.)

“Dragged pattern,” 78 Dragon motif, 208, 2x1, 213 Dragon of Quirigua, 235, illus., 236, 237 Dravidian races, 193, 194 Drawing, 20-22; Ingres, quoted on, 674. See also Line

Dream of Constantine (P. della Francesca), 484-85 Dream of St. Ursula (Carpaccio), 505, illus., 504 Drum, 122, 264, illus., 265; definition, 795 Dry painting. See Sand painting Dry point, 21

Dryad, pier of Sanchi Gate, 200 (illus.)

Du Bois, Guy Pene (dii-bwa', gg' p£:n') (1884- ), 744 fn, 748 fn. _

Duccio di Buoninsegna (doo :t'-cho de bwon-en- san'-ya) (1255-13x9), 469-70; Giotto, 475; “Majesty,” 432-33, 469, illus., 468; Three Marys at the Tomb, 469-70, illus., 470 Duchamp, Marcel (du-sha', mar-sSf') (1887- ), 734 fn.; Nude Descending the Stairs, 734 Duck Jar (early Chimu), 241, illus., 240 Duco painting, 17, 763 Dudok, Willem Marinus (1884- ), 709 Dufresne, Charles (du-frSm', sharl') (1876- 1938), 732 fn.

Dufy, Raoul (dii-fe', ra-ool') (1877- ), 732 fn. Dugento (ddo-jSm'-to), 429, 433 “Duke of Norfolk,” see Titian. — Portrait of an Unknown Man

Dunbar (J. A.) Collection, New York City, Figure of a Woman (Lachaise), 775, illus., 777 Dupr6, Jules (du-pra', zhiil) (1812-1889), 676 fn. Durand, Asher Brown (1796-1886), 686 fn. Durer, Albrecht (du:'-rur, al'-brSkht) (1472- 152S), 549-51, 553; Adoration of the Trinity, 551; St. Jerome in His Study, 550 (illus.); St. Christopher, 550 (illus.) .

Durham cathedral, 325, 354 Duris (du'-ris), cyclix, illus., 153 Dur-sharrukin (door-'sh&r-roo'-ken) . See Khor- sabad

Dutch art, 574-84; bibliography, 584; painting, 575-84

Duveneck, Frank (1848-1919), 687 fn.

Dyes, tapestry, use in, 547

Ea (nature god), 82 Eagle Dance (T. Pena), 750, illus., 751 Eakins (a'-kinz), Thomas (1844-1916), 687, 690-91; Pathetic Soitg, The, Ulus., 688 Earle, Ralph (1751-1801), 649 fn.

Early Christian art, 249-74 Earth and the Elements (Rivera), 757 (illus) Earthenware, 15, 522 East India Company, 574 Echaurren. 5 ee Matta Echaurren Echave, Baltazar (6-cha'vfi, bal-ta-sar') (1582- 1650) 635

Echinus (e-lcl'-nus), 126, 127, 128, illus., 125; definition, 795

Eclecticism: nineteenth-century, 666, 668, 669; Renaissance, 517; sculpture, 771; twentieth- century, 706, 720 Eclectics, 5x4, 515

Ecstasy of Santa Teresa (Bernini), 529 (illus.) Ecuador, 239, 242, map, 231; art attainment, 6x7; painting, modern, 763 Edfu (Sd'-foo), Egypt, map, 43; Temple of Horus, 62-63, 65, 66, illus., 62, 63 Education of Cupid (Titian), 511, illus., 5x0 Effigy Arms (Zapotec), illus., 414 Egeria (e-je'-rS-u) (C. Gell6e) , 609 (illus.)

Egypt and Egyptian art, 42-80; architecture, 44-54, 58-71; ceramics, 76-80; chapel near Meidum, illus., 50-51; Christian communities, 249; column, 60, illus., 61; convention, 48, 56, 72, 80; Coptic textiles, 271, illus., 272; cos- metics, 77; domestic architecture, 71; early, 42-44; Empire, 56-58; Fatimids, 286; female figures, 108 fn.; figure, conventional method of treatment, 46-48; furniture, 76-77, 80; glass, 76-80; glazing, 77-78; goldwork, 55-56, 78-79; jewelry, 55, 56, 58, 59, 73, 77-80, iUus., 78, 79; male figures, 108 fn.; Mamelukes, 286; maps, 43, 195; metalwork, 76-80; Middle Kingdom, 56-58, 71-80; mortuary temples, 58-71, 71-76; Muslims, 286; naturalism, 69- 70, 75; Old Kingdom, 42-44, 49, 51, 52, 55/56, 67, 68, 69, 72, 77, 80, 87; painting, 71-76, 734 fn.; physical description, 42, 44 , Ulus., 43, 44, 49; pylon temple, 62 (illus.), 63 (illus.), 6$, 67; sculpture, 44-54, 58-71; social structure, 43, 44; stonework, 55-56; toilet articles, 77, illus., 76; tombs, 43-44, 45-50, 56, see also Mastaba; Pyramids; Tulunias, 286; woodwork (Middle Kingdom) , 76-80 Elm, Karl (architect), Karl Marx Hof, Vienna, 719-20, illus., 716 Eiffel Tower, Paris, France, 666 805 Esplanade Avenue, New Orleans, cast-iron balconies, 640, illus., 641 “Eight, The,” 694, 743, 744 Einstein (in-shtln), Albert, Epstein bronze, 774, illus., 775

El Greco. See Greco

Elephanta (cave temple), 367 (illus.)

Eleusis (e-lu'sls), Greece, map, 121 Elgin, Lord, x 25 fn.

8i6

INDEX

Elizabeth, Russian czarina (1741-1762), 613 Elizabeth Bas (Rembrandt), 576 Embarkation for the Island of Cythera (sl-thg'ru) (Watteau), 610 (Ulus.)

Emboss, definition, 795 Embroidery technique, 241, 242 Emperor Augustus (statue), 186, illus., 185 Enameling, 23; Byzantine, 270-72; Celtic, 330; Christian, early, 270-72; Gothic, 357, 358-59; Greek, 165; reliefs, 97 fn.; Romanesque, 328- 30; Sarmatian and Scythian, 102; Sevres por- celain, 604; stained glass, use on, 348. See also Champleve; Cloisonne

Encaustic, 17; definition, 795, illus., 759; Ri- vera’s use, 737, illus., 759 Engaged column, 795, illus., 175, 180, 181 England and English art, 585-95; architecture, 585, 586-92, S94; bibliography, 595, 702; cathe- drals, 354 fn.; Catherine Howard (Holbein), 551 (illus.) ; church-building, 586; colonies, 696, 697; colonization, motivation for, 616, 642; Commonwealth, 585; exploration, 616; gar- dens and parks, 586, 590, illus., 585; Gothic architecture, 353; Gothic art, 586; graphic arts, 592; Henry VIII, Holbein’s work for, 551 (illus.) ; Holbein, 551, 592; Industrial Revolu- tion, 586, 663, 672; landscape-painting, 593- 94, 595, chart, 722; literature, 585; manors, 590; manuscript illumination, 328; Middle Ages, 594; miniature painting, 592; national temperament, 392; painting, 585, 592-94, 670- 73; portrait painting, 590, 592, 593, 5945 Pre- Raphaelite movement, 672-73; Protestantism, 585, 586; Puritanism, 672; Restoration, 585; Romanesque, 325, 331 ; romanticism, 674: sculpture, 585, 772-73, 776-77; trade, 616, 642; Van Dyck, 545-46. See also London English American art, 642-50; architecture, 64.'- 46; bibliography, 649-50 Engraving, 21; Aegean, x 16; Blake, 672; coins, Greek, 153-54; definition, 795, illus., 550; Cranach, 552; Diirer, 550 (illus.) ; gems, 155; intaglio, 87, 796; Paleolithic, 33 (illus.), 34 (illus.)] Persian, 306; Pollaiuolo, 481, illus .„ 480; Posada, J. G., 755; Sumerian, 87. See also Jewelry; Seals Enlil (nature god), 82

Entablature, illus., 125; Chateau de Blois, 598; definition, 795, illus., 125; Far nese palace, 457: Japanese use, 388; Louvre, 598; Palladian use, 588; Palladio’s use, 465; Renaissance use, 454; St. Peter’s, Rome, 461. See also Architrave; Cornice; Metope; Triglyph Entasis (gn'-tu-sis), 125, 126, illus., 125; defini- tion, 795, illus., 125 Entombment (Titian), 511 (illus.)

Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople (Delacroix), 675-76, illus., 675 Eolithic age, 31

Ephesus, Asia Minor, 156, map, 121. See also Artemis, Temple of

Epidaurus (Sp-i-d6'-rus), Greece, map, 121 Episcopal Chair of St. Peter with the Four Doc- tors of the Church (Bernini), St. Peter’s, Rome, 529, illus., 528

Episodes from the Life of Abraham (Ghiberti), 451-52, illus., 451

Epstein, Jacob (1880- ), 773-74; Albert Ein «  stein, iUus., 775

Erasmo da Narni , called Gattamelata (Donatello), 447) 45°) Ulus., 449

Erechtheum (Sr-Sk-the'um), Athens, 127-28, 155, illus., 126, 127; carving from, illus., 128; column, upper part of, Ulus., 126; plan, diag., 127

Ernst, Max (1891- ), 738 fn., 747 Escorial (Ss-ko-re-al'), near Madrid, 556 (illus.)] Descent from the Cross (R. van der Weyden), 539-40 , illus., 537

Etching, 2i, illus., 580; definition, 795, illus., 580 Etruscan art, 168-92

Euaenetus, medallion signed by, illus., 154 Euboea, Aegean island, map, 121 Euphrates River, 82, map, 43 Euphronios (u-fro'-nx-us) , Cylix, 152, illus., 15 1 Europe: art, prehistoric, 40-41; painting impor- tant movements in nineteenth and twentieth centuries, chart, 722; paleolithic, 30, 31, 38. See also individual countries Eutropius, Saint (miniature), illus., 357 Evans, Sir Arthur, 104

Evening Glow of the Ando (Harunobu), illus., 395 Everyday life: Dutch use of, 575; in painting, 538. See also Genre

Exekias (Sx-g'kI-as), Amphora, 150-52; cylix of, 152, illus., 154

Expressionism, 729; Germany, 736, 737 Expulsion (marble panel) (Jacopo della Quercia), 445, illus., 444

Facade, definition, 795

Faggi, Alfeo (fa:j'-je, al-fa'-6) (1885- ), 773; Jesus Counsels the Daughters of Jerusalem, 773, illus., 771

Fa-heen or Fa-hsien (fa-hen, fa-shySn) (pilgrim), 198, 209

Faience, definition, 795

Falling Water (house), Bear Run, Pennsylvania, 708-09, illus., 705

Family of Charles IV (Goya), 570, illus., 571 Fan vaulting, 354, illus., 355; definition, 795, illus., 35s

Far Eastern art, 362-98; influence, 771. See also China; Hindu art; India; Japan Farnese (far-na'-zS:) palace, Rome, 457, 459, illus., 458; ornamentation, 528 Fatimids (969-1171), 286; fabrics, 296, illus., 297; woodcarving, 293 (illus.)

Fauves, Les (fo:v r ), 722, 729, 730, 732, 737. See also Matisse

Feast in the Eouse of Lem (Veronese), 513, illus., 515

Feathered-serpent columns, 409 Federal Art Project, 749-50; Index of American Design, 750

Fenestration, 10; Abbaye-aux-Dames, 338; American colonial, 644, 645, illus., 643, 645; Brazil, 632, 718-19; broken and unbroken ribbons, 711; Canada, 639; China, 214; Char- tres cathedral, 341, 342, 346-48; church use, modern, 786; clerestory, 175, 355; definition, 795; domestic architecture (20th cent.), 717, Farnese palace, 457, 459, illus., 458; Flemish; 532; Florence cathedral dome, 437; Florentine

INDEX

palaces, 438, 439; fortress-churches, 618; French, 598, 599> Ulus., 596, 599; Germany, 549 (illus.), 550 (illus.) ; Gropius’ use, 712; High Renaissance, 439; Hindu, 201, 372-73; indus- trial buildings, 7x4, 715; Le Corbusier, 711, illus., 709; Louvre, 599 (illus.); Lovell house, 7x7; lunette, 796; marble, 372-73; McGraw- Hill building, 714; Marshall Field Wholesale House, Chicago, illus., 665; Maya, 4x0; Medici palace, 439, illus., 438; Mies van der Rohe, use of, 712; mosque, 291 (illus.); Muhamma- dan, 293-94, illus., 291, 294; mullioned win- dows, 439, 442, 587; Northern Europe, 534; oriel, 797; Oud, J. J. P., 710, illus., 708; Palladian, 465, 588; perspective painting, 188; Peru, 623 (illus.); Philadelphia Savings Fund Society building, Philadelphia, 714-15, illus., 715; plateresque, 555; RCA building, 714; Roman homes, 184, 188; Russia, 280; Salva- dor cathedral, Baia, 630; skyscraper, 668, 714; Spain, 323, 355; stained glass, 339, 341, 346- 48, 682; tracery, 354, illus., 372; twentieth- century, 786; vaulting, 354; Venice, 442, illus., 443; Whitehall Palace, London, 588, illus., 589; Winchester cathedral, 354 (illus.); Wright, F. L., 708; Zapotec, 413 Ferroconcrete, 711, 712, definition, 798 Fite Champitre (fS:t' sha-pS rtf') (Giorgione), 508-09, illus:, 508 Feudalism, 313, 387, 388, 597 Fiene, Ernest (fe'nu, ur'nust) (1894- ), 748 fn. Fierro, Pancho, 699

Fiesole, Giovanni da (jo-van'ne da fya'zo-la) (1387-1455), 486; Coronation of the Virgin, illus., 484; chiaroscuro, 5x5 Figari, Pedro (1861-1938), 765; Creole Dance, 765 (illus.)

Fighting Timer air e (Turner), 671, illus., 673 Figure of a Woman (Lachaise), 775, illus., 777 Figurines: Cretan, 113; Tanagra, 163 (illus), 164

Filigree, 330 (illus); definition, 795, illus., 330 Finial, 349, illus., 346; definition, 795, illus., 346 Firdausi (fur-dou'se, fur-doo'-se) (epic poet), 302, 304

Fireplaces: American colonial, 645; Bromley room, 588, illus., 587; Catalan, illus., 562; French use, 598; Florentine, 439; Houghton Hall, Norfolk, 590-91, illus., 590 Firing of pottery, 16 Fish (symbol), in Christian art, 254 Five-and-ten products, 782 Flamboyant style, 353; definition, 795, illus., 3 5 °) 351 ,

Flanders, 532, 533, 534. See also Flemish art Flavian amphitheater (Colosseum), Rome, 178- 79, illus., 180

Flemish art, 531—47; architecture, 354, 534; bib- liography, 547-48; Holbein, in tradition of, 551; Italianization, 545; metalwork, 546-47; minute detail, love of, 547; painting, 534-46; tapestry, 540 fn.; weaving, 546-47; woodcarv-

ing, 546-47

Flints, 30-34; curves, 710; fist hatchet, iUus., 30; Magdalenian, early, illus., 30; Solutrean,-iMws.,

30

Floor coverings. See Carpets and rugs

817

Florence, _ Italy, 516; apprentice system, 432; art projects, 432; Baptistery, 435, 451, illus., 436 , 45 °) 45 i, 4535 Bargello, 446; Baroque art, 526; books, 524; Brancacci Chapel, 493; civic affairs, 430; coat of arms, 439; commer- cial supremacy, 430; description, 430-33; guilds, 430; map, 431 ; Medici-Riccardi palace,

438 (Ulus), 439, 596; nicknames to their citi- zens, 476 in.; Or San Michele, 446-47; paint- ing, 468-500; palaces, 438-41 ; rappresentazioni, 524; Romola (G. Eliot), 431 fn.; Renaissance painting, chart, 517; Rucellai palace, 439; San Lorenzo, 464, illus., 462, 463; San Miniato, 319, illus., 318; Santa Croce, 438, 454-55, illus., 441, 454; Santa Maria della Carmine Masaccio fresco, 476-77, illus., 476; Santa Maria Maddalena dei Pazzi, Crucifixion (Peru- gino), 496-97 (illus.); Santa Maria Novella, Masaccio fresco, 477 (illus); Strozzi palace,

439 fn. See also Archeological Museum, Pitti Gallery; Uffizi

Florence cathedral, illus., 439; campanile, 435- 36, 441, 446, illus., 439, 441 ; campanile detail “Weaving,” illus., 441; Cantoria, or Singing Gallery (Donatello), 450, illus., 449; dome, 436-38, 447; Donatello, illus., 446; facade, illus., 439; plan, diag., 438 Florez, Ricardo (flo'rShs, rre-kar do) (1893- ), 762 fn.

Flower Festival (Rivera), 758, iUus., 759 Flowers: Chinese painting of, 384; Japanese painting of, 391 Flush, definition, 795

Flute (fluting) definition, 795, illus., 118, 126, 159 , 175 , 454

Flute-Flayer, Tomb of the Triclinium, Corneto, 17 1 (illus)

Flying buttress, 325, 336, 340, 349? 353) Ulus., 341, 346; definition, function, 340 Flying Fish Fresco, 109-10, illus., 109 Flying Heron (gem), 155 (illus.)

Foliate spiral, motif of, 181 Folk art: Canada, 752; Chile, 764; Figari, Pedro, 765 ; Hispanic- American, 633-34 ; Latin Ameri- can, 696-702; Mexico, 756; Rousseau, H., 730- ■ 3 1

Folke Filhyter (Milles), 773 (illus) Fontainebleau, forest of, 676 Fontana, Orazio (f 5 n-ta:'-na, o-ra:'tse-o), Majol- • ica plate, 522, illus., 520 Font-de-Gaume cave (fd'du go:m), 34-36 Foreshortening, 404, 477, 479; central type church, 528; Correggio’s use, 514; Mantegna’s use, 504

Form: architecture, 9-10; area, 8, Ulus., 5; ce- ramics, 15-17; color, 6-7, illus., 5; elements of, 4, illus., 5; line, 4-6; mass, 8; metalwork, 23-24; nature of, 2-4; nonobjectivity, 735-36; paleolithic, 30-31; sculpture, 11-14; Sullivan’s dictum, 668; textile, 22; texture, 7-8, illus., 5; volume, 8, illus., 5

Forsdyke, Edgar J., on Minoan art, quoted, 105

Fortress-churches, Mexico, 618-19 Fortuna Virilis, Temple of, 175 (illus), 176 Forums, Rome, 176-77; Imperial, 177; statues, 185; Trajan, 177 (diag.)

8r8

INDEX

k

Fountain of the Innocents (J. Goujon), 605 Fouquet, Jean (foo-kS', zha') (c. 14x5-1481), 606

Four Mirrors, The (Vincent of Beauvais), 334, 344, 345, 346

Fourth dimension, 734, 778, 779 Fowling scene, from a Theban tomb, 75, Him., 74

Fra Angelico. See Fiesole, Giovanni da Fragonard, Jean-Honore (fra-gd-nar', zha'6-no- ra') (1732-1806), 6x0; Swing, 610 France and French art, 34-36, 596-613; archi- tecture, 597-603, 611; art, 596-613; bibliogra- phy, 6x2-13, 685; bookmaking, 356, illus., 357; Brazil, influence in, 717; Canada, 638-42; cathedrals, 349-52; church power, 597; colo- nial art, 641-42; colonization, 616, 629, 630, 638; cosmopolitanism, 596; court life, 603; dadaism, 738; Encyclopedists, 663; explora- tion, 616, 638; feudalism, 597; furniture, 601- 03, 61 1 ; Gothic architecture, 335, 353; Gothic art, 596, 600, 605, 606, 607, 611; Latin America, influence in, 697; modern art, influ- ence in, 743, 744, 747, 748, 755, 761, 763, 764, 765-68; monarchs, role of, 597, 601-02, 6x1; New Orleans, 640 fn.; painting, 603, 606-11, 674-85; porcelain, 603-05, 6ix; prehistoric art, 34-36; Revolution, 597, 613, 663, 696, 704; Romanesque, 320-25, 331; Romanticism, 649, 674; Russia, influence in, 614; sculpture, 605- 06, 6u, 77X-73, 777; tapestry, 598, 601, 603- 05, 611; trade, 616; U.S. artists in, 688. See also Amiens; Chartres; French-American art; French Canadian arts; Louviers; Notre Dame de Baris; Paris; Reims; Rouen Francesca, Piero della (pya'-ro dSl'la fran-chS,s'- ka) (1416-1492), 480, 482-85; Resurrection of Christ (fresco), 485, illus., 483; Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon, 482-84, illus., 482

Francis (saint), of Assisi, 334, 429 Francis I, French king (1515-1547), 597 Franciscan movement, 334, 429, 430, 634 Francois Crater (fra-swa/), 149 (illus.), 150 Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, Archers of Saint Adrian (Hals), 576 (illus.)

Frari Maddonna (fra:'re) (G. Bellini), 506, illus., 507

Frascati; Aldobrandini Villa, 528 Free fantasy, chart, 722. See also Klee French American art, 638-42; architecture, 638- 41 ; bibliography, 643 French art. See France French Baroque. See Rococo French-Canadian arts, 752 French Indo China, map, 207 French Revolution, 597, 613, 663, 693, 704 Fresco painting, 17-18, 19; actopAn, 634; Ae- gean, 107, 1 16, illus., 108, 109; Ajanta Caves, 203-05, illus., 205; Angelico, Fra, 486; Arena chapel, 473-74, Ulus., 473, 475; Arezzo, 482- 85; basilicas, 253; BranCacci chapel, 493; Byzantine, 265, 267; catacombs, 266; Caval- lini, 473 chapel, 493 fn.; China, 219, 230; color, 203, ‘204; Corneto, 170-71, illus., 170,171; Correggio, 530; Cuernavaca, 758 (illus.)', definition, 795; Egyptian, 72; encaustic,

757, illus., 759; Etruscan, 170-71 Flying Fish, 109-10, illus., 109; fortress-churches, 634; fortress-palaces, xxx; Francesca, Piero della, illus., 482, 483; Giotto, 473"75, Ulus., 473, 474, 475; Hindu use, 201; Horyuji, 229; House of the Vetti, 266; Japanese use, 228, 229; Knossos, 107 (illus), 108 (illus.)', Lorenzetti, 472 fn.; Masaccio, 476 (illus), 477 (illus.)', Maya, 4x0, 412 (illus.)', Medici chapel, 440; Mexico, 756; Michelangelo, 499; miniatures, 108 fn.; Orozco, 758-59, 761; Palazzo Pubblico 472 fn.; Parma cathedral, 514, 530; Persian use, 304; Pompeian, 187-88; Raphael, 499; Renaissance use of, 440, 459; Rivera, 757-58; Roman, 187-88; Romanesque, 327; Russia, 280, 615; San Francesco Assisi, 472-73; Santa Maria de Mur, 327 fn.; Santa Maria Madda- lena dei Pazzii, 496-97; Signorelli, 485; Sistine Chapel, 493; Spain, 563; temple, 108-09, Ulus., 108; Toreador Scene, illus., 109; Vatican, 498; United States, 758; Villa of Livia, 188 (illus); Xenophontos monastery, Mt. Athos, 264, illus., 266

Fret (meander), 244, illus., 148, 21 1; definition, 795

Frick Collection, Honorable Frances Duncombe (Gainsborough), 594 (illus.)

Frieseke (fre:'-zu-ku), Frederick Carl (1874- 1939), 692 fn., 744 fn.

Friesz, Emile Othon (frS:z', 6-t6') (1879- ), 732 fn.

Frieze; Achaemenian use, 100, 102; Altar of Zeus at Pergamon, 161-62, illus., 162; Ani- mals (Cap-Blanc), 37; Ara Pads, 180-81, illus., 182, 183; Arch of Titus, 180, illus., 181; Assyria, 94, illus., 95; continuous, 140; Doric, 111; Ionic, 140; Kufic, 292; Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, 160 (illus); Maya use, 409; Mshatta, 262, illus., 263; Muhammadan use, 290; Parthenon, 126, 140-44, illus., 142, 144; Sumeria, 95; Tiahuanaco, 243 (illus); Tiryns, illus., in; Treasury of the Siphnians, 135, illus., 134. See also Relief

Fromentin, Eugene, on Dutch painting, quoted , 575

Fry, Roger, 102; on Giotto, quoted, 474 fn.; visual values, quoted on, 593

Fujiwara age (fod-jl-wa-ra), 387, 390; monastery, 3*8

Fuller, George (1822-1884), 690

Functionalism, 710; Sullivan’s dictum, 668

Funeral at Or nans (6r-na/) (Courbet), 677

Funeral of Fhocion (fo'shl-un) (Poussin), 608- 09, illus., 608

Furniture: American colonial, 646; Bromley-le- Bow (1606), illus., 587; cabriole, 793; cassone, 439-4°; Chippendale, 592; Congo table, 401 (illus.); Egypt, 76-77, 80; episcopal chair, 269, illus., 270; Flemish, 546; Florentine, 435- 40; Georgian, 592; Gothic, 357-58; Hepple- white, 592; Japan, 388-89; Lima, Peru, 622; Louis XIV, 601-02, iUus., 603; Louis XV, 602-03; Louis XVI, 603; modern, 717; Pre- Raphaelite, interest in, 673; New Orleans, 640; Sheraton, 592; Spain, 560, 561; Swedish mod- ern, 785; Versailles, 602

Futurism, 736, 747, 768, 779. See also Severini

INDEX

819

Gainsborough., Thomas (1727-1788), 590, 594; aristocracy, painter of, 593; Honorable Frances Buncombe , 594 {Ulus.)

Galerie des Glaces (ga-lSire' da glas'), Versailles, 602, Ulus., 601

Galileo (1564-1642), 429, 525 Galla Placidia (gal'-lu plu-sid'-e-u), Mausoleum, Ravenna, 257-58, Ulus., 258 Gardens. See Parks and gardens Gargoyle, 598, Ulus., 346, 347; definition, 795, Ulus., 346, 347

“Gates of Paradise” (Ghiberti), 451 (Ulus.), illus., 453

Gateways: Chinese, 2x5; Hindu, 364, illus., 365; Sanchi, illus., 199; Tiahuanaco, 243-44, illus., 243. See also Triumphal arch Gattamelata (gat-ta-mg:-la:'-ta) (Donatello), 447, 450, Ulus., 449

Gauguin, Paul (go-ge', p 60 (1848-1903), 727- 28, 729; Day of the God, The, 728, illus., 729; greenness, quoted on, 727 Gautama Buddha (g6'tu-mu, Sans, gou'-tu-mu), 197, 200; Ajanta frescoes, 204; Amida Buddha, 220, 225-26, 229; bodhi tree, 228; Buddha Ex- pounding the Law to His Mother, 203 (illus.); China, 216-17; cult statues (Japan), 228; Japan, 224-228; lotus, 363 fn.; sculpture of, 201-02

Geese of Meidum, 48, 56, illus., 50-51 Gell6e, Claude (zh[u]-la', kl6:d') (1600-1682), 608, 609, 676 ; Egeria, 609 (illus.)

Gems, Greek, 155 (illus.); Hindu use of, 375; inlay, 375; intaglio, 796. See also Cameo- cutting; Seals

Genoa, Italy, Baroque art, 526 Genre and genre painting (zhaN'r’) : Antonello da Messina, 504; Chardin, 611; definition, 795; Dutch, 581-83, 584, 677; Etruscan, 170; Flem- ish, 539, 541, Ulus., 538; French, 607-08, 611; Greek sculpture, 162, 163-64, illus., 163; Japan, 391 ; Latin- America, 698, 699; Pueyrre- d6n, 698; Russia, 615; Tanagra figurines, 163 (illus.), 164; United States, 687, 694 (illus.), 744

Geometry: machine-made products, 783, 784;

solids, illus., 8; volumes, basic, illus., 17 George Washington (Houdon), 606 George Washington under Council Tree (Pickett), 692, illus., 693

Georgian age, 591-92; American colonial use, 644; Canada, 640

Gericault (zhS-re-ko'), Theodore (1791-1824), 675

German expressionism, 736, 737; chart, 722.

See also Beckmann; Kokoschka; Nolde Germany and German Art, 548-54; architecture, 548-49, 711-13; Baroque, 548, 552; Behrens, Peter, 669; bibliography, 553-54; dadaism, 738; expressionism, 736, 737; Gothic architec- ture, 353; Gothic building, 354-55; graphic arts, 549-52; impressionism, 737; metalwork, 330; music, 548, 552; painting, 549-52; paint- ing (20th cent.), 736-37, 738; realism, 737-38; religious wars, 548; Romanesque, 325-26, 331; sculpture, modern, 773, 775; United States artists in, 686, 687 Gertrude Skin (Picasso), 734

Gesso (plaster of pans), 18, 538, 440, 533, 563, Ulus., 635 ; definition, 795 Ghent, Belgium, 532; St. Bavon’s church, altar- piece, 534-37, 538, 540, illus., 536 Ghent altar-piece, or Adoration of the Lamb (J. & H. van Eyck), 534 " 37 , 538 , 540, illus., 536 Ghiberti, Lorenzo (ge-bSr'-tfe, lo-rSn'-tso) (1378— I 455 ), 43 2 - 33 , 451 - 53 ; bronze doors, 451 fn.: Episodes from the Life of Abraham, 451-52, illus., 451; “ Gates of Paradise,” 451 (illus.), illus., 453; pictorial quality, 453; Temptation of Christ, 451, Ulus., 450 Ghirlandaio, Domenico (ger-lan-da:'-y6, do- mS'-ne-ko) (1449-1494), 486-87; Adoration of the Shepherds, 540 fn.; textile painting, 522 fn. Gibbs, James, St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, 589- 90, illus., 591

GU de Castro, Jose (hel dah kas'tro, ho-sa') (i730?-i825?), 698 Gilgamesh epic, 89 Gill, Eric (1882-1940), 772 Giorgione (j6r-jo:'-nS:) (1478-1510), 507-09; color-masses, 515; Fete Champetre, 508-09, illus., 508; Sleeping Venus, 508; Tempest, 508 Giotto (j6t'-to) (1276-1336), 472-76; Arena chapel frescoes, 473 (illus.), 501; campanile, 436; C&zanne, compared with, 724; inventive- ness, 475; line, use of, 474, 515; Obsequies of St. Francis, 474-75, illus., 474; Field (fresco), 473 - 74 , iUus ; , 475

Giovanni Arnolfmi and His Wife (J. van Eyck), 539, Ulus., 538 Girdle wall, 62, illus., 63 Girdles: chains, 375; Chinese, 222, illus., 219, 220; pendants, 222, illus., 219, 220; mirrors,

Girl in a Swing, 113 (illtis.)

Giza (ge-zu), pyramids of, 45, 49, 50, illus., 49; map, 43

Glackens, William James (1870-1938), 694, 744 fn.

Glass: cameo technique, 191; Chartres, 335, 338, 339, 347-48; colored, making of, 347-48; Egypt, 76-80; English cathedrals, 354; glaze, 16, 796; Gothic, 335, 338, 339, 347-48; Gro- pius* use of, 712; industrial use, 786; La Farge’s work with, 688; Marinot, 786; Mu- hammadan, 295-96, Ulus., 291; nineteenth- century use, 666; Northern Europe, 534; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; Portland vase, 191, illus., 190; Rome, 189-91; Steuben, 786; tears, 559; twentieth century, use, 786, 787; Vene- tian blinds, 214; Wright’s (F. L.) use of, 709. See also Fenestration

Glass Bowl with Fruit (Unknown Artist), illus., 692

Glass Vase (Egyptian), illus., 78

Glaze: definition, 796; pottery, 16, 77-78

Gleizes, Albert L6on (glSiz', al-bS:r la/ON') (x88i- ), 734 fn.

Gloucester cathedral, 354, Ulus., 353

Gobelin factory (g6b-le'), 601-02, 603, 604

Goes, Hugo van der (h6o'-g6 vM.n dSr g 56 :s') (c. 1440-1482), 540 fn.

Gogh, Vincent van (v6n'-sSnt v 3 ,n gSkh') (1853- 1890), 726-27, 728, 729 ; Berceuse, La, 726-27, Uhis ., 727; Landscape with Cypress Trees, 727

820

INDEX

Goiania, Brazil, 720 Goitia, Francisco (1884- )> 75^— S 7 v Gold: Acliaemenian use, 100, 102, illus., 102; Aegean use of, 115, 1x6; Brazil, 631; Com- pania, La, Quito, 627; cylinder, from Laxn- bayeque, Peru, 244 (illus.)', Egypt, 55-56; Eurasia, central, 102; Fra Angelico’s use, 484, 486; Greek use of, 165; Hindu use of, 375; Inca use of, 420, 627; Japanese use, 226, , 228, 391, 396; Jesuits, 627; lure of, 621; Minoan use, 115, 116; Mixtec, 414-15; Muhammadan use, 291; Quito, use in, 627; Renaissance use, 486, 521; Roman use, 189; search for, 632; Sienese use, 469, 470; Spanish use, 560; Sumerian use of, 88-89; Zapotec, 414-15 Gold Coast, Africa, map, 400 Gonzaga Family (gon-dza:'-ga), (Mantegna), 503 (illus.), 504

Gonzalez, Gorivar (d. 1671), 635 Good Shepherd, mosaic, Tomb of Galla Placidia, 266

GopuramS (go'-poo-rums), 364, illus., 365, 366; definition, 796

Gorky, Arshile (1904- ), 748 fn.

Gospel Cover (Romanesque), 329-30, illus., 329 Gothic art, 332-61; architecture, 334-55, 4335 bibliography, 360-61; cathedrals, 332-34, 352, 359-60, diags., 338-39; England, 585- 87, 594; Flanders, 534; France, 596, 600, 605, 606, 607, 61 1 ; furniture, 357-58; Germany, 552; Italy, 433; ivory-carving, 357“ 59; manor, England, 586-87, illus., 585; metalwork, 357- 59; Netherlands, 531 3 .; painting, 355-56; Renaissance, influence in, 434 (illus.), 435; sculpture, 334-55; tapestries, 546-47, 604; textiles, 357-59; verticalism, 598; woodcarv- ing, 357-59

Souache (gw&sh) (water color), 18-19; defini- tion, 796, illus., 304, 358 Goujon, Jean (goo-zho', zha') (d. before 1568), 598, 599, 605; Fountain of the Innocents, 605; relief, use of, 605

Governors of the St. Elizabeth Hospital , The (Hals) , 576

Goya, Francisco (go'-ya, fran-thes'ko) (1746- 1828), 570-73; Caprices, 572, illus., 573; Family of Charles IV, 570, illus., 571; Maja Nude, 571; Portrait of His Wife, 570-71, illus., 570; satire, 570; Shooting of the Rebels of May 3, 1808, 571-72, illus., 572; Why Hide Them?, illus., 573

Gozzoli, Benozzo (got'-tso:-le, bS:-not'-ts6) (1420-1498), 486; textile painting, 522 fn. Grain elevator, 715, illus., 714 Granada, fall of (1492), 554 Grande latte, La (grad' zhat') (Seurat), 684 (illus.)

Granulation, definition, 796

Graphic arts: England, 592; Germany, 549-52

Graves, Morris (1910- ), 748 fn.

Grazing Reindeer, 34 (illus.)

Great_ Buddha of Anuradhapura (u-n6o:-rad-hu- poo':-ru), 201, 202 (illus.)

Great Pyramid. See Pyramid Great Serpent Mound (Hopewell), 424 Great Wall of China, 209, map, 207 Greater Chavin Stone, 244, illus., 245

Greco, El (grSk'-5, SI) (Theotocopuli, Domenico) (1541-1614), 564-67; Assumption of the Virgin, 564-65, illus., 564; Burial of the Count oj Orgaz, 565-66, illus., 565; emotional intensity, 566; Pentecost, 566-67, illus., 566; View of Toledo, 566, illm., 567

Greece and Greek art, 118 ff.; archaic age, 120; architectural orders, 122; architecture, 121- 28, 157-58, 1 66; Augustan age, 186; bibliogra- phy, 166—67; chiton, 794; classic stage, 120; cli- mate, 1x8-19; coins, 153, 155, illus., 154; con- struction materials, 122; construction tech- niques, illus., 122; engraving, 153, 155; everyday life, 148, illus., 153; fourth-century art, 156-67; fourth-fifth century art compared, 160; geography, 118-19; hair styles (men), 131 fn., 138; hair styles (women), 133, illus., 132; Hellenistic art, 156-67; himation, 796; intaglio, 153, 155; isocephaly, 143; map, 121, 195; metalwork, 152-55, 156, 165; molds, use in sculpture, 164; naturalism, 120, 142, 145; Near Eastern influences, 149; painting, 145, 156, 164-66; Peloponnesian War, 156; pots and pans of everyday life, 148 fn., 153; pottery, 146-52, 156, 165; realism, 162, 164; religion, 1 19; Roman province, 157; Rome, influence on, 186, 189; sculpture, 128-45, 155-56, 158- 64, 166; skepticism, 156, 158; temples, 124- 28, 135, 155, illus., 1 23; town-planning, 157; vase painting, 146-53 '

Greek cross, 461; definition, 796 Greek temples, 124-28, 135, 155; plans of, illus,,

123 ' '

Greeks (people), 1 19, 120, 122 Green Still Life ( Picasso), 734 Gregory (saint), 250

Grille (reja), 560, 562, illus., 440; definition, 796, Him., 440

Gris, Juan (gres, hwan') (1887-1927), 734 fn. Groin, definition, 796, Him., 174 Groin vault, 175, illm., 174 Gropius, Walter (val'tur gro'pe-oos) (archi- tect), 711; Bauham, Dessau, 712, illus., 710 Gropper, William (1897- ), 748 fn., 749 Grosz, George (1893- ), 737-38 Grotesques, 352; Notre Dame, Paris, illus., 347; Spanish use, 556

Grousset, Renl, on Achaemenian sculpture, quoted, 100

Grunewald, Matthias (grii'nu-valt, mat'-tg:-as) (1485-1530), 549

Guadagni (gwa-da: -iiye), palace, lantern of, 44i

Guadalajara, University of, Orozco fresco, 759, illm., 761

Guanajuato pottery (gwa-na-xvii'to) , 701 Guardi, Francesco (gwa:r'de, fran-chSs'-ko) (1712-1765), 528

Guatemala, 232, 409, 628; art attainment, 6x7;

map, 231; Merida, C., 755 Gudea (goo-de'-u), Statue of, 86-87, illus., 86 Gue. mica (Picasso), 734-35 Guerrero pottery (gH-ra'ro), 701 Guglielmi, 0. Louis (goo-lySl me, 6 loo'fs) (1906- ), 748 fn.

Guido (gwe'do), Alfredo (1892- ), 765; Steve dores Resting, 765, illm., 764

INDEX

82!

Guilds, Dutch, 574; Flemish, 533, 546; Florence, 430; merchant, 332; Spain, 562 Guilloche (gl-losh'), 127, Ulus., 126; definition, 796 _

Gupta age (goop'-tu) (India), 198, 202, 228, 362 Guzman de Rojas, Ceciho (goos-man dah rro'has, se-se'lyo) (1900- ) 763

Hagia Sophia (hag'-i-u) . See Santa Sophia Haida Indians: carved and painted wooden chest, 653, illus., 655; Queen Charlotte Islands, 652, map, 231

Haiti, plantation houses, 641 Hakuho period (ha-koo-o:), 224 fn., 228 Halebid, near Mysore, temple at, 365, Ulus., 363 Halicarnassus (hal-I-kar-nas'-us) , map, 121; Mausoleum, 157

Hall churches (Hallenkirchen), 355 Hall of Mirrors, Versailles. See Galerie des Glaces

Hall of One Hundred Columns (Xerxes), 100 Hallenkirchen (hal'-lSn-kirkh-un) (HaE Churches), 355

Halo: Buddhist sculpture, 226, 228; Fra Angeh- co’s use, 484; Renaissance use, 469, 470 Hals, Frans (Mis', fr&ns') (1580-1666), 575-76, 584; Archers of Saint Adrian, 576 (illus.); Gov- ernors of the St. Elizabeth Hospital, 576; Laugh- ing Cavalier, 575-76, illus., 575; Young Man •with a Slouch Hat, 576

Hammer-beam ceiling: definition, 796; West- minster Hall, London, illus., 586 Hammurabi (ham-moo-ra'-be) , 82, 90 Hampton Court, Great Hall of, 588 Han dynasty, 208, 209; burial girdle, 222 , illus., 220 ; chimera, illus., 221; palaces, 213; reliefs, 220; stone relief, 215, 2x6, illus., 212; tiles, 214 Handcrafts: American, 656; Crete, 114; de- cadence, 662; machine, elimination of, 704; Pre-Raphaelite, 672; traditional, 784 Handmade objects, 784 .

Hanseatic League, 277

Harappa, India, 194

Harding, Chester (1792-1866), 685 fn.

Harlequin’s Festival (J. Miro), 740

Harp, Sumerian, illus., 88

Harper’s Weekly, 691

Harpoons, of reindeer horn, 32 (illus.)

Harriman (W. A.) Collection, Woman with a Fan, The (Picasso), 734 Hartley, Marsden (1877-1943), 745 > 746 Harun-al-Raschid (M-roon'al ril-shed'), ruler (786-809), 302 _

Harunobu, Suzuki (ha-roo-no-boo) (Japanese painter), 394; Evening Glow of the Ando, The, illus., 395

Harvester Vase, 1x4, illus., 116 HaSsam (h&s'xp), Guide (1859-1935), 692 fn., 693 fn., 744 fn.

Hassan, Sultan, mosque of, 289, illus., 287, 288, 289; decorative border with arabesques and Kufic lettering, 292, illus., 288 Haterii (ha-ta'-ri-e), Tomb of, 181 Hatshepsut (hSt-shSp'-soot), Queen, temple of, 59-61, illus., 59, 60

Hatti (Boghaz Keui), Carchemish, 90, map, 43 Haunch, 340; definition, 796

Hay Wain (Constable), 670-71, illus., 670 Head, archaic, illus., 129, 131, 225, 234 Head from Chios (Greece), 159 Head of a Bull (Minoan), 113-14, illus., 112 Head of a Hawk (Egypt), 56, illus., 55 Head of a Woman (Paleolithic), 37 Head of an Orator’s Staff (Maori), illus., 407 Heiji Monigatari (ha-ji mo-ni-ga-ta-ri), Burning of the Sanjo Palace, illus., 391 HeEadic civilization and culture, 105 HeEenes (people), 119 HeEenistic art, 156-67 Hemp fibers, 22

Henri, Robert (1865-1929), 694, 695 Henry H, French king (1547-1559), 59 s Henry VHl, Enghsh king (1509-47), Holbein portraits for, 551, 592 Henry George & Sons (architects), 7x4 Hepplewhite, George (d. 1786), 592 fn.

Hera of Samos (he'-ru, sa'mbs), 129-30, illus.,

130

Heracles and Antaeus (Sa-te'us) (A. PoEaiuolo),

. 455, illus., 456

Heracles Slaying the Hydra (A. PoEaiuolo), 481 (illus.)

Iieraeum (hSr-e'-um), temple, at Olympia, 124 Herculaneum (hur-ku-la'ne-um) , 184; murals, 187-89

Herd of Reindeer, 34, Ulus., 33 Hermes with the Infant Dionysus (Praxiteles), 158 (illus.), 159, 160

Hermitage, Leningrad: Greek gems, illus., 155; Sarmatian gold ornament, illus., 102; Swamp (Ruisdael), 583 (illus.), 584 Herodotus (Greek traveler), 96 Herod’s Feast (DonateEo), Siena cathedral, 450, illus., 448

Herrera, Juan de (1536-1597), 556 Herreran style, 556, 573; Brazil, 630; Caribbean area, 628; Hispanic American, 556, 636; Mexico, 619, 620; Peru, 623 Hesire (h 5 -sl-ra') (mastaba), 45, 46 , illus., 48; panel, 46, 47, illus., 48

Heye Foundation. See Museum of the American Indian

Hieroglyphic (hi'ro-glff'Ik), writing: definition, 796; Egypt, illus., 48, 60, 68, 69, 72, 74; Maya, 234-3S. 237, 4*° 3 ill™., 236, 237 High Renaissance, 439, 457, 499 Hildesheim (hil'-dus-hlm) , Germany: Crater, 190 (illus .) ; metalwork, 330 Himation (hl-m&t'-i-dn), definition, 796, illus., 144, T56

Hindu art, 193-206, 362-78; animal life, 368; architecture, 362-73; bibliography, 377-78; Brahmanical, 362-78; carving, 374-76; cave temple, 365; dancing, 367-68; history division, 198; law of the One in many, 365; metalwork, 374-76; ornament, 200; painting, 373-74, 377; sculpture, 362-73; symbolism, 372; temple, 362-64, 368-69, 377, diags. 366; textiles, 374- 76

Hiram J. Halle Collection, New York City, Albert Einstein (Epstein), illus., 775 Hiroshige, Ando (M-ro-shS-gS, an-d6) (Japanese painter) , 394

Hispanic American art, 6x7-18, 623, 628, 636

822

INDEX

Hispano-Moresque pottery, 561 Historiation, definition, 522, 796, illus., 523 Hittite art, 90, map, 43

Hobbema, Meindert (hSb'-bu-ma, mln'-durt) (1638-1709), 594 Hofer, Karl (187&- ), 737 fn.

Hogarth, William (1697-1764), 592-93; Shrimp Girl, 593

Hokusai (Japanese painter), 394 Holbein the Younger, Hans (hol'-bin, bans') (1497-1543), 551, 553; Catherine Howard, 551 {Ulus)-, Dance of Death, 551, illus., 552; Eng- land, 592; Man in a Broad-brimmed Eat, 551, illus., 552

Holland. See Dutch art; Flemish art; Nether- lands

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 782; prophecy (1835), 788

Holy Apostles, Church of, Cologne, Germany, 325

Holy Night (Correggio), 513-14

Home of the Heron (Inness), 686-87, illus., 687

Homer, Winslow (1836-1910), 687, 690, 691-92;

Northeaster, 692, illus., 690 Homeric age, 106 fn.

Honduras, 232, 409, map, 231 Honorable Frances Duncombe (Gainsborough), 594 (illus.)

Hooch, Pieter de (hokh', pe'-tur de) (1629-1677), 581; Pantry Door, 581 (illus.), 582 Hood, Raymond (1881-1934), 713; McGraw- Hill building, New York City, 7x4, illus.,

" "712

Hood & Fouilhaux (architects), 713

Hook of Holland, row of houses, 710, illus., 708

Hopewell art, 424-26, illus., 425; map, 231

Hopi Indians, map, 23 x

Hopi jar (Sityatld ware), 424, illus., 422

Hopper, Edward (1882- . ), 748 fn.

Hoppner, John (1759-18x0), 594 Horace (poet), 171

Horizontal Spines (Calder), 779, illus., 781 Horse statuette (Greek), 139, illus., 140 Horseshoe arch, 291 (illus), 294 Horus (ho'-rus), Temple of, Edfu, Egypt, 62-63 (illus.), 65, 66

Horyuji (h6:-ryoo-jl) monastery, Japan, 224, illus., 223; Amida trinity, 228, illus., 227; frescoes, 229; Yumedono Kwannon, 226, 228, illus., 225.

Hospital of Kalaun, Cairo, 293, illus., 292 Hospital of St. John, Bruges, Marriage of St.

Catherine (Memlinc), 540, illus., 539 H6tel des Invalides (o-tll' de-ze-va-led'), Paris, 600-01, illus., 600

H6tel Soubise (soo-bSz'), Paris, 602 (illus.) Houdon, Jean Antoine (oo-do', zh&' a-twan') (1741-1828), 605-06; Louise Brogniart, 606, illus., 604; Voltaire, 606, illus., 604 Houghton Hall (ho'-tun), Norfolk, 590-91, illus., 590

House of the Vettii (ve'-te-e), frescoes, 266 House of Tiles (Mexico City), 620 Housing projects, 709-10, 719-20, illus., 708; Hook of Holland, row of houses, 710, illus., 708; Karl Marx Hof, Vienna, 719-20, illus., 7x6

Hovenden (ho'-vun-dun), Thomas (1840-1895), 687, 693

Howodo (ho:-wo:-do) (Phoenix Hall), 388 Hsia-Hou Shen (shya-ho shun), quoted, 384 Hudson River school, 686, 700 Hue, definition, 796

Huejotzingo (fortress-church), 618; frescoes, 634 Huen Sha (Chinese scholar), 379 Humanism, 429, 436, 489, 500 Hundred Guilder Print (Rembrandt), 580-81, illus., 579

Hunt, William Holman (1827-1910), 672 fn. Hunter motif, 300, illus., 301 Hunters, caves of Eastern Spain, illus., 38 Hunters in the Snow (Bruegel the Elder), 542 (illus.), 543, 544

Hwang Ho or Yellow River (hwang), 206, 207, map, 207

Hydraulic engineering, 6 01 Hydria (hi'-dre-u), 147 (illus.), 148 Hymettus, Greece, 122

H ypnerotomachia Poliphili (hip-nS-ro-to-ma'- ke-u po-le-fe'-le), page from, 524 (illus.) Hypostyle hall (hi'-pu-stil), 62, 64, 65, 66, illus., 61, 63, 64, 65; definition, 796; Karnak, 100

Ilex Vase Handle (Achaemenian), xoi (illus.) Ibn Tulun (ibn-too Aloon), mosque of, Cairo, 289, 292, illus., 285, 287

Icon, 284; definition, 796; Old Testament trinity (Rublev), 282-83, illus., 282; painting, 615; repainting, 281; St. Basil the Great, 281-82, illus., 283; Vladimir Madonna, 281, illus., 283 Iconoclasm, 249-50, 266, 269 Iconography, 254, 256, 264, 266-68, 280 Iconostasis (l-k6-n8s'tu-sis), 265; definition, 796, illus., 275; Russia, 280-82, 284; Uspenski cathedral, Moscow, illus., 275 Ictinus (architect), 118 Ida, Mount, ii4fn., map, 121 Ikhnaton (fkh-na'-ton). See Akhnaton Ilaria del Can etto (e-la:'re-a de:l kar-rat'-to), tomb, 443, illus., 444 Ilium. See Troy

Illumination, definition, 796. See also Books Ulusionism, 504, 528 Imagines (wax masks), 185 Immaculate Conception (Murillo), 563 (illus.) Implements. See Tools Impost, 263, illus., 264; definition, 796 Impression: Soldi Levant (e-pre:-syo so-lay' lu-vaO (Monet), 681 fn.

Impressionism, 348, 723, 725, 730, 768; accept- ance, 728; Bonnard, P., 730; chart, 722; Ger- many, 737; Guido, Alfredo, 765; objective realism, 726; United States, effect in, 692- 93, 744.. See also Monet; Renoir Improvisation No. 30 (Kandinsky), 735, illus., 737

Inca (ing'-ku) art and culture, 418-21, 425; architecture, 4x9-20; bibliography, 420-21; Bolivia, 762-63; Cuzco, 622; metalwork, 420; Peru, 761-62; Pizarro, 621; Quito, 626; reli- gion, 418, 419; Spanish architecture, influence on, 625; textiles, 420; writing, 419 fn. Incising, illus., 89, 383; definition, 796 Incunabula, 523-24

INDEX

Independents. See Courbet; Daumier; Degas; Manet; Puvis de Chavannes; Toulouse-Lau- trec

Index of American Design, 750 India, art and culture: architecture, 198-203, 206; Brahmanical art, 362-78; Brahmanism, 373; Buddha, in sculpture, 201-02; Buddhism, 220, 362, 373; caste system, 193; climate, 193- 94, 200; craftsmen, 374-75; foreign influences, 198; geography, 193-94; Greek art, influence, 20X ; Gupta age, 198, 202, 228, 362; Japanese art, compared with, 224, 227, 229; maps, 193, 195, 207; Mughal painting, 373-74; Muham- madan-Hindu art, 369-78; Muhammadanism, 362; Neolithic culture, 194; painting, 203-05, 206, 373; people, 194, 195; Rajput painting, 373-74, 377; religion, 194-96, 206; sculp- ture, 198-203, 206; tracery, illtis., 372; unity, 362

Indian Hispanic art, 637. See also American Indian; Hispanic art; Latin- American art Indian Women before a Chapel (Codesido), 762, illus., 763

Indigenist school (Peru), 762

Indigenous cultures, 399. See also African art;

American art; Oceanian art Individualism, 429, 456, 532-33 Indo-Sumerian civilization. See Indus valley art; Sumerian art Indra (god), 194 Indus valley art, 193-206 Industrial art, 722-23. See also Machine arts Industrial buildings, 706-07, 713-15, 718-19; bridges, 666; Buffalo, 668, 709; Chicago, 667- 68, 713, illus., 665; grain elevator, 715, illus., 714; London, 666; Mexico City, 665; New York, 665, 712—7x4; Philadelphia, 714-15; Racine, Wisconsin, 709, illus., 707; Rio de Janeiro, 718-19, illus., 71 8 , 719; Rome (anc.), 183; Santiago, 665; Spokane, 7x5, illus., 714; Stuttgart, 7x1, illus., 716; windows, modem, 786; World Columbian Exposition, 667-68; Wright, F. L., 709. See also Skyscrapers Industrial Revolution, 586, 672, 702, 704 Ingres, Jean Auguste Dominique (e:-gr' } zha' ogiist d6-me~nek') (1780-1867), 674, 675; Madame Riviere, 674 (illus.)

Inlay: Cretan daggers, 116; Egypt, 65, 79; gems, use in, 375; Hindu use, 375; marble, 3x9-20, illus., 318, 319; Romanesque use, 319-20, illus., 318, 319; wood, 440, illus., 445 Inman, Henry (1801-1846), 687 Inness, George (1825-1894), 686-87; Rome of the Heron, 686-87, illus., 687 Innocent X (Velasquez), 570, illus., 568 Inquisition, 567, 534, 554 Institute National de Bellas Artes, Mexico, Valley of Mexico (Velasco), 700, illus., 699 Insula (apartment house), 183 Intaglio (in-t&l'-yo), 11, 14, 20, 21; Arretine bowl, 190-91 (illus.)-, definition, 796; Greek gem, 155 (illus.); Sumeria, 87 {illus.). See also Engraving; Etching Intercession, Church of the, Vladimir, 277-78 Intercolu mniati on , definition, 796 International Business Machines Corp. Collec- tion, New York City, Civic Improvement

823

(Burchfield), 749 (illus); Virgin Surrounded by Angels and a Donor (Cuzco), 636, illus., 637 International Exhibition of Modern Art (1913), 696, 743, 744

International style, 713, 717 Internationalism, 704 Entimists, 730 fn.

Ionic architectural order, 127-28, illus., 125, 126; continuous frieze, 140; Colosseum, Rome, 179; Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, 157; volute, , 799

Iranian (i-ra'-nl-un) , culture, 98, 100, 298, 299, 302; metalwork, 101, 102 Ireland. See Celtic art

Iron: age, 31; balconies, 640, illus., 641; bridges, 666; cast, 640; Gothic use, 359; grille, Siena, 441, illus., 440; nineteenth-century use, 666; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; Renaissance, 521; Spanish use, 560; wrought, 640 Ise, Temple of, Japan, 224 fn.

Isenheimer (e:'zun-hl-mur) Altarpiece (Col- mar), 549

Isfahan mosque, illus., 302; frescoes, 304 fn.; recess decorated with stalactites of colored tile, illus., 303

Ishtar (fsh'-tar) (nature god), 82 Ishtar gate, Babylon, 97, illus., 96 Islam. See Muhammadan Isocephaly, 143 fn., illus., 142, 476; definition, 796

Israels, Jozef (yo'zSf es'ra-Sls) (1824-1911), 693 Issus, Battle 0/ (Is'-us). See Alexander Mosaic Istakhr (near Persepolis) . 298 Italo-Byzantine style, 468 Italy and Italian art: Americas, influence on, 616; Byzantine artists, 250; Flanders, inter- course with, 540-41, 545 ; France, influence on, 596, 597, 598, 600, 601, 605, 606, 607, 608, 609, 61 1 ; futurists, 736; German hostility to, 548; Gothic architecture, 353, 355; map, 431; opera, 525; painting (northern), 500-19; painting (twentieth-century), 736; Russia, influence in, 270, 614; sculpture (twentieth- century), 776; Spain, influence in, 558, 563. See also Etmscan art; individual cities; Ren- aissance art; Rome; Romanesque art Ivory-carving: Byzantine, 268-70; Celtic, 329; Christian, early, 268-70; Gothic, 357-59; Romanesque, 328-31 Ivory Coast, Africa, map, 400 Ivory Coast Mask, illus., 402 lyeyasu (i-yS-ya-soo) (Japanese statesman), 387 .

Jacque, Charles (zha:k', shar]') (1813-1894), 676 fn.

Jade carving: chimera, illus., 221 ; China, 22 1-22;

girdle pendant, 222, illus., 219, 220 Jams (Sidney) Collection, New York City, Stilt Life; “ Vive la . . (Picasso), 734, illus., 733 Japan, art and culture, 223-39, 387-98; archi- tecture, 224-28, 388-90, 396-9 7 ; Ashikaga era, 387; Avalokiteshvara, 209; bibliography, 397- 98; Bodhisattva, 202 fn.; Buddha, in sculp- ture, 201-02; climate, 223, 225; domestic ar- chitecture, 388, 396, 397, illus,, 389; feudal ism, 387, 388; Fujiwara era, 387; furniture,

INDEX

824

388-89; gardens, 388, 389; geography, 223; isolation policy, 387; Kamakura era, 387; lac- quer, 390, 394-96, 397; map, 195, 207; metal- work, 394-96, 397; Morning Glory theme, 379; nature, love of, 388; painting, 229, 390-94, 397; people, 223; pottery, 394-96,397; religion, 223, 387; religious architecture, 224-26; sculp- ture, 224-28, 390; swordsmiths, 39s, 397; tex- tiles, 394-96, 397; Tokugawa era, 387; trading companies, 428; wall painting, 219, 220 Japanese print, 393-94, 397, 731; Paris, influence on, 678-79, 680; Van Gogh, influence on, 726; Whistler, 688, 689

Jarvis, James Jackson, prophecy (1864), quoted, 782

Jaiaka Tales (ja-tu-kii), 200 fn.

Jeanneret (zhan[ujr8:), Charles Edouard, 711. See also Le Corbusier

} ehan, Shah, 370, 372

enghiz Khan (jeng'-gis khan') (1162-1227), 302, 378

Jeremiah (Donatello), 447, Ulus., 446 Jeremiah (Michelangelo), 494-95> Ulus., 496 Jesuits, 525, S7p, 627, 629 Jesus Christ. See Christ Jesus Counsels the Daughters of Jerusalem (Faggi), 773, illus., 771

Jewelry: Achaenienian, 100, illus., 102; Aegean, 1x5; Buddha, statues of, 201 fn.; Etruscan, 170; Egypt, 55, 56, 58, 59, 73, 77-8o, illus., 78, 79; Greece, 165; granulation, 796; Hindu, 375, illus., 374; Mixtec, 414; Navaho, 658; Paleolithic, 31-32 {illus .) ; Persian, 88; Roman- esque, 330; Sumerian, 88. See also Gold; Sil- ver

Joconde, La. See Mona Lisa Jogan period (jotgan), Japan, 224 fn.

Johnson, Eastman (1824-1906), 685 fn., 687 Johnson (S. C.) and Son Administration Build- ing, Racine, Wisconsin, 709, illus., 707 Jones, Inigo (1573-1652), 588; Whitehall Palace, banqueting hall, London, $&&,illus., 589 Jones (Mrs. T. Catesby) Collection, New York City, Pegasus (Lipchitz), 777, illus., 779 Joshua Roll, 266, illus., 267 Journey of the Magi (Gozzoli), 486 Ju&rez, Juan Rodriguez (1675-1728), 635 Julius II, Pope, 493, 462 fn.

Jungle, The (Rousseau), 730-31, illus., 730 Justinian (a.d. 527-565), 249, 298

Ka (ka), (force), 43, 46

Kahrie Djami mosaic (kah'-re-ye ja'-me), 267 fn. Kailasa (ki'-lk-sa), Mount, 365 fn.

Kailasa Temple, at Elura (Ellora), 365, 367 Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin, Man in a Gold Helmet (Rembrandt), 580, illus., 578 Kait Bey (ka-et ba), Sultan, tomb-mosque of, Cairo, 290-91, illus., 287, 290, 291; pulpit, illus., 290

Kakemono (ka-kS-mo-no) (hanging scroll), 219, 389; definition, 796 Kalahari Desert, Africa, 403 Kalaun, hospital of, Cairo, 293, illus.. 292 Kalidasa (ka'-le-da'-su) (Hindu poet), 198 Kamakura era (ka-ma-koo-r&), 387 Kamares Vase (ka-ma'-res), 114 (Ulus.)

Kandinsky, Wassily (1866-1944), 735, 737 fn., 767; Improvisation No. 30, 735, illus., 737 Kane, Paul (1810-1871), 752 Karfiol, Bernard (1886- ), 744 fn.

Karl Marx Hof, Vienna^ 719-20, illus., 716 Karle (kar'-le), Buddhist assembly hall, 201 (illus.)

Karnak, Egypt (kar'-nak), map, 43. See also Amun, Temple of Kassites (k&s'its) (people), 90 Kazan cathedral, 614 Kedleston, 590, 591

Kensett, John Frederick (1818-1872), 686 fn. Kermess (Village Dance), Rubens, 545, illus., 546

Keystone, definition, 796, illus., 9 Khafre (khaf'-ra), pyramid of, Ghiza, 50, 51, illus., 45, 49, 52; statue of, 52-53, 56, 70-71, illus., 13

Khajuraho (kha-joo-ra'-ho), Temple of Vishnu, 364 (illus)

Khmer (khm&r) (people), 368 Khnumhotep (kntim-ho-tSp), wall decoration in the tomb of, Beni Hasan, illus., 72 Khorsabad (khor-sa-bad'), map, 43. See also Sargon II, Palace of

Khufu (koch'foo), Pyramid of, 49, 50, illus., 45, 49, 52; massiveness, 50 fn.; solidity, 50 fn. Kiev (ke'-ygf), Ukraine, 275, 276, 277, map , 276;

St. Andrew, 614; Santa Sophia, 277 Killer-whale design, 654 Kiln, definition, 796 Kilpeck Church, doorway, 325 (illus.)

Kimono, patterns and designs of, 396 Kirchner, Ernst Ludwig (1880-1938), 737 fn. Kish (city), 82

Kiva (ke'-vu) (pueblo underground room), 422, 423; ceremonial, 633; wall painting, 423, illus., 422

Kiyonaga (ki-yo-na-ga)JJapanese painter), 394 Kiyonobu (ke-yo-no-boo) (Japanese painter), 394

Kizhi (ke-zhe'), Transfiguration, Church of, 278, illus., 274, 278

Klee, Paul (kla', poulQ (1879-1940), 737 fn., 740

Kneeling Woman (Lehmbruck), 775, illus., 778 Knossos (n5s'-us) : cupbearer fresco, 107 (illus), 108, 113; Kamares vase, 114 (illus.)] map, 121; Minos, palace of, illus., 105, 106; Palace style vase, 1x5 (illus), 145; Prince or Priest- king relief, 108, illus., 107 Kokoschka (k6-k6:sh/-ka), Oskar (1886- ), 737 fn.

Kondo (kon-do:) (golden hall), 224 Koran (ko-ran'), 286, 287, 288, 296, 297; illu- mination, 296 (illus.)] Kufic script, 292, illus., 288; Neskhi script, 292 Korea, 224, 226, map, 207 Korin (ko:-rin) (d. 1716): Waves at Matsushima (screen), 393, illus., 392 Koryusai (ko-ryoo-si) (Japanese painter), 394 Krater. See Crater Krieghoff, Cornelius (1812-1872), 752 Krimmel, John L. (1787-1821), 687 Krishna Quelling the Serpent Kaliya (krish'-nu, ka'-li-ya), Rajput, 374, illus., 373

INDEX 825

Kroll, Leon (1884.- ), 744 fn.

Kuan-yin (gwa:n yen) (deity), 209, 220; T’ang dynasty, illus., 216 Kublai Khan, 378, 387 Kufic (ku'-fik) (script), 292, illus., 288 Kuhn, Walt (1880- ), 745 Ku K’ai-chih (koo kl chi), Lady Feng and the Bear, 2x9, 220, Ulus., 218 Kukulcan (koo:-koo:l'-kan) (temple), 409, illus., 41 1

Kuniyoshi, Yasuo (koo-nx-yo-shl, ya-soo-o) (1893- ), 745 fn.

Kuo Hsi (gwo-she) (Chinese scholar), on land- scape, quoted, 380

Kuramadera temple, Kyoto, Japan, Bishamon, the Guardian King of the North, illus., 390 Kwannon (kwan-non). See Yumedono Kylix. See Cylix Kyoto, Japan, 387, illus., 390

Laborsaving devices, 783 Lachaise, Gaston (la-sh£:z', gas-to) (1882- 1935), 775; Figure of a Woman, 77 5, illus., 777 Lacquer, 390, 395-96, 3975 definition, 796 Lady and the Unicorn, The (tapestry), 359 Lady chapel, Gloucester cathedral, illus., 353 Lady Feng and the Bear (Ku K’ai-chih), 219, 220, illus., 218

Lady Wentworth (Copley), 648 (Ulus.)

Lady with a Fan (Tanagra figurine), illus., 163 La Farge, John (1835-19x0), 688 Lagash (la/g£sh), Sumeria, 82, 86, map, 43 La ila and Majnun (ll'la, mftj'-nbon), painted by Mirak, 305-06, illus., 304 Lambayeque (lam-ba-zhS' ke), Peru, map, 231;

gold cylinder, 244 (illus.)

Lamentation over the Body of Christ , 267-68, illus., 268

Lancret (l&-kr§/), Nicolas (1690-1743), 610 Landscape: Aegean, 116; Baldovinetti, 480; Bellini (Giovanni), use, 505, 506; Bosch, van, 542; Cezanne, 724, 726; Chinese use of, 380- 82, illus., 380, 381, 382; Constable, 670-71; Corot, 676-77; costumbrista painters, 697, 698; Crete, 116; Crome, John, 594; Davis, Stuart, 747; Dutch, 676; English, 593-95, 670, 671; Fontainebleau, 676; French, 608-09, 611, 676- 77, 682; Gainsborough, 594.; Gell6e, Claude, 608, 609; Giotto, 476, 477; Giorgione, 507, 508; Gogh, van, 727; Greco, El, 566; Hudson River school, 686; impressionism, 682; Japan, 391, 394; Latin America, 697-98, 700; Masaccio, 476—77; mosaic, 266; O’Keeffe, 746; Perugino’s use, 497; Pickett, 692, illus., 693; Pollaiuolo, 481 ; Poussin, 608-09; Raphael, 498, 499; Rem- brandt, 580; Renaissance, 476, 477, 5 ° 6 ; Rubens, 545; Ruisdael, 583-84; Sabogal, 762; Seurat, 684; Sevres porcelain, 604; Tung Yuan, 382-83, illus., 380; Turner, 671 ; United States, 686, 692; Van Eyck, 535; Vind, Leonardo da, 492; Wilson, R., 594 Landscape with Cypress Trees (Van Gogh), 727 Lantern : definition, 796 ; Florence cathedral, illus., 439; Guadagni palace, 441; Saint Paul’s, London, Ulus., 588; Saint Peter’s, Rome, illus., 461; Santa Croce, Florence, illus., 441 Laocoon (Vatican), 162

Lao-tzu (lou-dzu) (5707-490 b.c.), 208 La Paz (la pas'), Bolivia 624, 625; San Fran- risco, 624

La Plata (la pla'ta), viceroyalty of, 625 Larco Herrera Museum, Trujillo, Peru, Duck jar (early Chimu), 241, illus., 240 Large Composition with Nude Figures (Cezanne), 726

Larkin building, Buffalo, New York, 709 Lasso, Francisco (1810-1868), 699 Last Judgment (Signorelli), 485 (illus.)

Last Supper (da Vinci), 491-92, illus., 490 Last Supper (Tintoretto), 512 (illus.)

Lateran Museum, Rome, Roman Rinceau, illus,, 182

Latin American art, 6x7-638; bibliography, 638; definition, 636; folk arts, 696-702; French thought, 663; North America, 632 ft,; paint- ing, 634-37, 696-702; sculpture, 636-37, 775; South America, 621-32 Latin cross, definition, 796 Lattices, use in Brazil, 630 Laufer, Dr. Berthold, on Chinese painting, quoted, 382-83

Laughing Boy (Desiderio), 454 Laughing Cavalier (Hals), 575-76, illus., 575 Laurana, Francesco (law-ra;'ha, fran-chas'-ko) (c. 1425-1502), 455; Princess of the House of Naples, A, 455 (illus.)

Laurel-leaf points, 32, illus,, 30 Laurent, Robert (1890- ), 775 Lawrence, D. H., art, quoted on, 1 Lawrence, Sir Thomas (1769-1830), 594 Lawson, Ernest (1873-1939), 692 fn., 694, 744 fn.

Leaning Tower, of Pisa, 318-19 Leatherwork, in Spain, 560-62 Le Brun, Charles, Galerie des Glaces, Versailles, 602, illus., 601

Le Corbusier flu k6r-bu-zya'), Swiss archi- tect (1887- ), 71 1 ; Brazil, consultant in, 717, 719; functionalism, quoted, 710; house, quoted on, 710; Savoye house, Poisey-sur- Seine, France, 7x1, illus., 709 Lecythos (iSk'-Ithbs) (oil flask), 147 (Ulus.), 148

“Le Douanier” flu-dwan-ya'). See Rousseau, Henri

Lee, Doris (1905- ), 749 fn.

L€ger, Fernand (la-zha/, fSr-na') (1881- ), 734 fn., 735; City, The, 735, illus., 661; Three Women, 735

Lehmbruck, Wilhelm (lami'-brobk vll'-hSlm), (1881-1919), 775; KneelingWoman, 775, illus:, '■■■' 778 : ■

Lely, Sir Peter (16x8-1680), 592 Lemnos, map, 121

Le Nain flu-ne), Louis (1593?-! 648), Feasant Family, 607-08, illus., 607 Le Nain brothers (Antoine, Louis, Mathieu), 607, 61 1

LeNdtre, Andr6 flu-no :tr', a-dra.') (1613-1700), 601

Leonardo. See Vinci, Leonardo da Leonello d’Este ( 16 :- 6 -n 61'16 d6s'-t6:), medals of,

521 .

Lesbos, map, 121

8a6

INDEX

Lescaze, William (1896- ), 7x7. See also Philadelphia Savings Fund Society Building Lescot, Pierre (les-ko', pye:r') (i5io?-i578),

598,599

Le Sueur, Eustache (Ju-su- 0 :r', 0 s-tash') (1616- 1655), 607 T ; o

Lettering, 292, 715, 719, 786, Ulus., 288, 718 Liber Studiorum (le'-ber stu-di-o'rfim) (Turner), 671

Liberale da Verona (le-bS :-r&:'l&: da. v 2 :-r 6 -/na), Aeolus, illus., 523

Lie, Jonas (le, yo'-nas) (1880-1940), 692 fn.,

744 m.

Lierne, 354, 588; definition, 796, illus., 354 Lima (le'ma), Peru: Gauguin, 728; Indian cul- ture, 622 ; map, 23 1 ; Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 622, illus. , 623; Palacio de Torre Tagle, El, 622, illus., 623; Pizarro, 621; Spanish power and culture, 622

Limbourg. See Pol de Limbourg Limner (llm/ner) (face-painter), 647, 648 Lin Yutang, on Chinese humanism, quoted, 208

Lincoln (Saint-Gaudens), Lincoln Park, Chicago,

Lincoln cathedral, 354 Lindisfarne (lin-dis-farn) . See Book of Line, 4-6, 566; American Indian use, 634; Bellini’s (Giovanni) , use, 506; Blake’s use, 672; Bosch, van, use of, 542; Botticelli, 578; Ce- zanne’s use, 723; Chinese use, 219, 383; Cra- nach, 5.5: 2 ; Degas’ use, 679; direction, 723; Diirer’s use, 549, 550; Fra Angelico, 486; Ger- man expressionism, 737; Ghiberti’s use, 451; Giorgione’s use, 515; Giotto, 474, 515; Gothic, 434 " 35 ; Goya’s use, 570, 572; Haida Indian, 652; Holbein’s use, 551; Japanese prints, 394; IClee, Paul, 740; Michelangelo, 515; neoplas- ties, 735; Parthenon, 127; Picasso’s use, 734; Pisano, G., use, 434-35; Rembrandt’s use, 580-81; Rococo use, 602; Rubens’ use, 545; sculpture, 14; Spanish use, 560; Tintoretto’s, 515 ; Titian’s use, 5x5; Toulouse-Lautrec, 680; Van Eyck, 540; Veader’s use, 688; Vinci, Leo- nardo da, 490, 492; Weyden, R. van der, 539, 540; Whistler’s use, 689. See also Calligraphy Linen fibers, 22

Lintel system, 9-10, illus., 9; Achaemenian, 100; Aegean, xix, 112; definition, 796; Greece, 122, 124; fireplace, carved stone, 588, illus., 587; Khafre pyramid, 50, 51, illus., _ 45, 49; Maya, 233, illus., 232; Rome, 174, illus., 175; Su- rneria, 83

Lion Gate, Mycenae, 1x2 (illus.)

Lion of Procession Street, Babylon, illus., 97 Lipchitz, Jacques (lSp-she:ts', zhhdc') (1891- ), 777-78; Pegasus, 777, illus., 779 Lippi, Fra Filippo (lep-pe, fra fe-lep'-po) (1406- 1469), 486; Madonna and Child ioith Two An- gels, 486 {illus.)

Lisbda, Antonio Francisco, 630, 632; Sao Fran- cisco, Ouro Preto, 632, illus., 630 Lithography, 21-22; Daumier, 677, illus., 678;

definition, 796, Latin America, 699 Li wan (le-wtn') (recess), 287 (diag.), 289 Lockheed Aircraft Corporation, Constellation built by, illus., 785

Locomotive, Pennsylvania Railroad T-i, illus., 782

Loewy, Raymond (lo'e, ra'mund), 782 Loggia, definition, 796, illus., 442 Lombardo (lom-bar'do), Pietro (c. 1435-1515), Vendramini palace, Venice, 442, illus., 443 Lombardy, 314, 317

London, England: Bank of England, 665; British Museum, 665, see also that heading; churches, small, 589; climate, 588, 589; Crystal Palace, 666; fire of 1666, 589; Hampton court, 588, illus., 587; middle classes, 592; St. Martin’s- in-the-Fields, 589-90, illus., 591; St.Mary-le- Bow, 589, illus., 591; St. Paul’s cathedral, 588- 89, illus., 588; Somerset House, 590; Trafalgar Square, 589; 20 St. James Square, dining- room (R. Adam), 591, illus., 593; Wallace col- lection, 603 fn., 610; Westminster Abbey, 354, illus., 355, 356; Westminster Hall, illus., 586; Whitehall Palace, 588, illus., 589. See also National Gallery; Tate Gallery; Victoria and Albert Museum Longleat (house), 587 Loom, 22

Lorenzetti, Ambrogio (lo-r8:n-tsSt'-te, am-bro jo) (fl. 1323-1348), 471-72; Giotto, 475-76 Lorrain, Claude ( 16 -re’, klod) (1600-1682), 608, 609

Los Angeles, California: Lovell house, 717; Mil- lard house, 708

Lotus and lotus motif, 226, 228, 363 fn., 367 Louis (Iwe') IX or St. Louis, French king (1226- 70), 332

Louis XI, French king (1461-83), 546 fn.

Louis XIV, French king (1643-1715), 597, 599, 601-02, 61 1 ; court of, 610; furniture, 603 (illus.)

Louis XV, French king (1710-1774), 601, 602;

court, 610; furniture, 603 (illus.)

Louis XVI, French king (1774-93) : court, 6x0; furniture, 603

Louise Brogniart (lwe:z br 65 -ya:r') (Houdon), 606, illus., 604 Louvain, Belgium, 532, 545 Louviers cathedral (loo-vya'), 352 , illus., 351 Louvre, Paris, 598-600; Aphrodite (Venus) of Melos, 163; Artaxerxes at Susa, capital from the palace of, illus., 100; Boscoreale Treasure, 190 fn,; Bound Slave (Michelangelo), 463 (illus.), 464; court, illus., 599; Crucifixion (Mantegna), 502-03, illus., 501; Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople (Delacroix), 675-76, Ulus., 675; facade of Lescot and Goujon, illus., 599; facade of Perrault, 599, illus., 600; Fite ChampUre ( Giorgione), 508- 09, illus., 508; Funeral of Phocion (Poussin), 608-09, illus., 608; Gudea, 86-87, Ulus., 86; Hera of Samos, illus., 130; impressionist painters, 723; Kermess (Village Dance), Ru- bens, 545, illus., 546; Louise Brogniart (Hou- don), 606, illus., 604; Madame Riviere (Ingres), 674 (illus .) ; Madonna (Raldovinetti) , 480, illus., 481; Madonna: “La Belle Jardiniere” (Raphael), 497-98, illus., 497; Madonna and Child (da Vinci), 490, illus., 491; Madonna of Chancellor Rolin (J. van Eyck), 537 - 39 , Ulus., 535; Madonna of the Rocks (da Vinci), 492

INDEX

827

(Ulus .) ; Man with the Glove, The (Titian), 510- ix, illus., 509; Mona Lisa (da Vinci), 492-93, Ulus., 487; Nike of Samothrace, 161 (Musi)} Oath of the Horatii (J. L. David), 674; Peasant Family (L. le Nain), 607-08, Ulus., 607; per- fume spoon (Egypt), 77, Ulus., 76; Pietd, middle of 15th cent., 606-07, illus., 605; relief, 599; Saying Grace (Chardin), 611 (illus.)} Seated Scribe, 54 (Ulus .) ; Still Life (Chardin), 611, illus., 612; Supper at Emmaus (Rem- brandt), 578-79, Ulus., 578; Venus of Melos, 163

Lovell house, Los Angeles, 717 Lucca (loo:k'ka), Italy, map, 431 Lucca cathedral, tomb of Ilaria del Carretto (Jacopo della Quercia), 443, illus., 444 Ludovisi Throne (lob-do-ve'-ze), 137-38, illus., 136

Luks (liiks), George Benjamin (1867-1933), 694, 695

Luminists, 694

Luncheon of the Boating Party (Renoir), 682-83, illus., 683

Lunette, definition, 796, illus., 258, 454 Luristan, Persia, map, 43 Luristan bronzes (loo-re-stan'), 101 (illus.), 102 Luster, 16, illus., 307; definition, 796-97 Luxor (lfik'-s6r, look'-s6r), map, 43. See also Amun, Temple of

Lyon (lyS), France (textile center), 605 Lysicrates (li-slk'-ru-tez) monument, Athens,

■ 157

Lysippus (li-sip'-us), 160-61

Ma Yuan (raa yoo-a:n), Bare Willows and Dis- tant Mountains, 383, illus., 382 MacCurdy, Dr. George G., 31, 108 Macedonia, map, 121

McGraw-Hill building, New York City, 714, illus., 7x2

Machine age, 663, 706, 7x5 Machine art, 704, 715, 782-89 Machine-made products, 782 ff.

Machu Picchu (ma'-choo pek'-choo) (Inca city), 419 (illus.), map, 231 Mclntire, Samuel, 645

Madame Riviere (madam' r e-vyS :r') (Ingres) , 674 (illus.)

Madeleine, Church of the, Vdzelay, 320 Maderna, Carlo, St. Peter’s cathedral, 460 fn., fagade illus., 460

Madonna: German, 549; Flemish, 540; Hispanic American, 622; icon, 281, 282-83, illus., 283; M arriage of St. Catherine (Hemline) , 540, illus . , 539; mestizo artists, 636; Raphael, 497-98; Robbia, 453-54, illus., 452 Madonna (Amiens-Vierge dorfie), 350 Madonna ( Baldovinetti), 480, 492-93, illus., 481 Maddonna (G. Bellini), Church of the Fran, Venice, 506, illus., 507

Madonna (Medici) (Michelangelo), 464, Ulus., 462 :■ ■■■■■■■

Madonna (Pesaro) (Titian), 510 Madonna (Vladimir), 281, 282-83, illus., 283 Madonna and Child (da Vinci), 490, Ulus., 491 Madonna and Child with Two Angels (Fra Filippo Lippi), 486 (illus.)

Madonna Castelfranco (Giorgione), 507 Madonna in Majesty (Duccio), 469, illus., 468 Madonna: “La Belle Jardiniere ,” (Raphael), 497-98, illus., 497

Madonna of Chancellor Rolin (J. van Eyck), 537- 39, illus., 535

Madonna of the Chair (Raphael), 498 Madonna of the Harpies (Andrea del Sarto), 500 (illus.)

Madonna of the Rochs (da Vinci), 492 (illus.) Madonna with Saint Anne (da Vinci), 432 Madura (mu-doo :'-ru) , gopurams, illus., 365 Magdelenian age, 31, 32, illus., 32, 33, 35; baton with fox’s head, 33, illus., 32; bison with a turned head, illus., 33; Deer and Salmon, 34, illus., 35; flints, ilhis., 30; harpoons, illus., 32

Magna Graecia coins, 153

Mahabharata (mu-ha-bii'-ru-tu) (epic), 196;

scene from, 369, illus., 370 Maiden (Polyclitus), 145, illus., 144 Maids of Honor (Velasquez), 568-70, illus., 569 Maillol, Aristide (ma-ySL', a-res-ted') (1861- 1944), 137, 774; Seated Woman, 774—75, illus., 776

Maine Islands (J. Marin), 745-46, ilhis., 745 Mainz cathedral (mints), 325 Maitani, Lorenzo (nm-I-ta. :'-ne, lo-rSn'-tso) (c. 1275-1330), 435 Scenes from Genesis, (Orvieto cathedral), illus., 437 Maitreya (mi-tra'-yu) (northern Wei dynasty), 217, illus., 2x6

Maitreya (Suiko period), 227-28, illus., 225 Maize culture, 230, 421 Maize God (Maya), 235-36, illus., 234 Maja Nttde (Goya), 571

Majestd (ma-yS:s-ta:') (Duccio)^ 432-3 3, 469, illus., 468; rear panel, 469-70, illus., 470 Majolica: definition, 522, 797; plate (Fontana), 522, illus., 520

Makimono (long scroll), 219, illus., 380; defini-

tion, 797

Malaga, Spain, 561

Malevich, Kasimir (1878-1935), 710, 735 Mamelukes (1252-1517), 286 Mammallapuram (ma-mal- 16 ' -poo-ram'), Birth of the Ganges River, 368, illus., 369 Man in a Broad-brimmed Hat (Holbein the Younger), 551, illus., 552 Man in a Gold Helmet (Rembrandt), 580, illus., 578

Man in Four Aspects (Orozco), 759, illus,, 761 Man with the Glove, The (Titian), 5x0-11, illus., \ 5°9 '

Manafi al-H ay awan (m&-na'-fe-l-ha/y£i-wS.n) ) or Bestiary, 304, illus., 305 Manchu dynasty, 208 Manchuria, map, 207

Mandapam (assembly hall), 362, 363, 364, illus., 364, 366; definition, 797

Manet, Edouard (m&-nS', fi-dwax') (1S32- 1883), 678, 680; Dejeuner sur VHerbe, 678; Olympia, 678; Servant of Bocks, The, 678, illus., 677 . '■

Manifeste du surrialistne (A. Breton), 738-39 Mannerists, 514, 515

Mansart (ma-sa:r'), Jules Hardouin (French

8a8

INDEX

architect), H6tel des Invalides, Paris, 600-01, Ulus., 600

Manship, Paul (1885- ), 772; Dancer and Ga- zelles, 772, Ulus., 770

Mantegna, Andrea (an-dre'-a man-tan'-ya) (1431-15x6), 502-04; Camera degli Sposi, 504, Ulus., 502; Crucifixion , 502-03, illus., 501; Gonzaga Family, 503 (Ulus.), 504; San Zeno altarpiece, 502 fn.

Mantelpiece. See Fireplaces Mantua, Italy, map, 431; Sant’ Andrea, 438 Manuscripts. See Books and manuscripts Maori (ma'-o-ri) : Council Houses, 404; Head of an Orator’s Staff, illus., 407 Marble: Baroque use, 529; basilicas, use in, 252,

2 S3; 2 57; 258; central type church, 527-28; China, 214; dust, 188; Greek statues, 139 fn.; Hindu use, 364; inlay, 319-20. illus., 318, 319; Mexico, 619; Muhammadan use, 291; Pen- telic, 1 18; Renaissance use, 435, 444, 446, 447, 454; Roman use, 174, 179, 180, 181, illus., 185, 186, 187; Romanesque use, 318, 3x9; St. Peter’s, 526; Santa Sophia, 259, 260; Versailles, 602

Marduk (mar'dook) , Temple of, Babylon, 97 Maria Luisa, Spanish queen, Goya portrait, 570, illus., 571

Marietta Strozzi (ma-re-at'-til strbt'se) (Desi- derio), 454

Marin, John (1870- ), 745, 746; Maine Islands, 745-46, illus., 745

Marinetti, ^Filippo Tommaso, Italian poet (1878- ), 736 fn.

Marinot glass (ma-re-no'), 786 Marquis de Lafayette, The (Morse), 685, illus., 686

Marriage of St. Catherine (Memlinc), 540, illus.,

539

Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty (Sassetta), 472 {illus.)

Marsh, Reginald (1898- ), 748 fn., 749 Marshal Field Wholesale House, Chicago, 667- 68, illus., 665 ■

Marsuppini Tomb (mar-sobp-pe'-ne) (Desi- derio), 454 (illus.), 455 Martin, Homer D. (1836-1897), 686 Martini, Simone (mar-te'-ne, se-mo'-nS:) (c. 1285-1344), 470-71; Annunciation, 470, illus., 47i

Martins, Maria (1900- ), 775; Christ, 775, illus., 778

Mary, Mother of Christ (interpretations in art forms). See Adoration of the Lamb; Altars; Annunciation; Assumption; Coronation; Im- maculate Conception; Madonna; Pietsl; Three Marys; Trinity

Masaccio (ma-za:t'-cho) (1401-1428), 450, 476- 77; chiaroscuro, 515; personal affairs, disre- gard for, 476 fn.; Tribute Money (fresco), 476- 77, illus., 476; Trinity with the Virgin, St. John, and Donors (fresco), illus., 477 Masjid. See Mosque

Masks: American Indian, 653; Maya use, 410; Melanesian use, 407; Michelangelo’s use, 464; Negro use of, 399, 403, Ulus., 402; Portland vase, 19 1

Mass, 4, 8; piercing .of, 777-78

Mass production, 783, 784 Masson (ma-so'), Andre (1896- ), 738 fn. Mastaba (mas'-tu-bu), 45-49, 50, 51, 56, illus., 46, 47, 48; definition, 797, illus., 46 Matisse, Henri (ma-tes', a-re') (1869- ), 729, 731-32; Still Life: Apples on a Pink Tablecloth, 732, illus., 731

Mats and matmaking: Japan, 388; Oceania, 405 Matta Echaurren, Roberto (ma'ta e-cha'run, rro-ber'to), 738 fn., 764

Mausoleum (mnso-le m): Galla Placidia, 257- 58, illus., 258; Halicarnassus, 157, 160 (illus.); Japan, 389-90; Raci6', 773; Taj Mahall, 370- 73, 377, Ulus., 371. See also Temple; Tomb Maxentius (mak-sen'-ti-us) , or Constantine, basilica of, Rome, 178 (illus.)

Maya (ma'-ya) (mother of Buddha), 203 Maya art and culture, 230-37, 239; architec- ture, 233-36, 409-10; art attainment, 617; bibliography, 417; building, illus., 232; build- ing materials, 233; calendar, 232, 234; climate, 234; government, 232; map, 195; ornament, 628; painting, 411-13; people, 232; pottery, 2 37, 413, Ulus., 236, 237; pyramid temples, 425; religion, 232; sculpture, 233-36, 409-10, 413; second empire, 405 ff.; Seacoast Village (fresco), 412 (illus); tools, 232, 234; vase, from Copan, 237 Ulus., 236; writing, 232 Meander (fret), illus., 148, 21 1; definition, 795, illus., 148, 21 1

Medal: commemorative, 521; obverse, 797 Medallion, illus., 273, 301, 308, 520, 555; defini- tion, 797

Medallion, signed by Euaenetus, Ulus., 154 Median Bringing Horses to King Sargon II, A, illus., 93

Medici Madonna (mS'-de-che) (Michelangelo), 464, illus., 462

Medici-Riccardi palace (rek-ka:r-de), Florence, 438 (illus), 439, 596 Medici tombs, 463-64, illus., 463 Medinet Habu (mS-de'-nSt-M-boo) , Royal Pal- ace of Harnesses III, 71 Mediterranean art, 104 ff.

Mediterranean Sea, map, 43 Medium, definition, 797 Megaliths, 40

Megaron (mSg'-a-rbn), in, 122; definition, 797 Meidum (ma-doom'), chapel near, Egypt, 48, 56, illus., 50, 51; map, 43

Melanesian art, 404, 406, 407, 408; ancestral shield, 406, illus., 405; carved cocoanut shell 407 (illus.)

Melos (me'-los), Aegean island, map, 121. Sot also Aphrodite of

Memlinc, Hans (mam'-ling, hans') (c. 1430- 1494), 540; Marriage of St. Catherine, 540, illus., 539; tapestry designs, 546 fn.

Memmi, Lippo. See Martini, Simone Memorial Art Gallery, New York, Kuan-yin, illus., 2x6

Mena, Pedro de (ma'-na, pad'-ro da) (1628- 1688), 559-60; St. Francis, 559, illus., 558 Mendelsohn, Eric (architect), 71 1; Schocken De- partment Store, Stuttgart, 711, illus., 716 Menes (Egyptian king), 43 Menhir, 40, illus., 41; definition, 797

INDEX

829

Menkaure ( Mycerinus ) and His Queen, 53 Merchant guilds, 332

Mere Gregoire, La (me:r gre:-gwa:r) (Courbet), 677, Ulus., 676

Merida, Carlos (ma'-re-da, kar'-los), 755 Merino, Ignacio (1817-1876), 699 Mesa Verde, cliff villages, 422 Mesolithic age, 31; art, 38-41; bibliography, 41; building, 40; pottery, 39-40; stoneware, 39-40; textiles, 39-40

Messina (me:-se'-na). See Antonello da Mestizo class, 643

Mestrovic, Ivan (mS-sh'-tro-vech, e-van), (1883- ), 773; Mounted Indian, 773 , illus., 772

Metalwork: Achaemenian, 100-03; Aegean, 114- 17; Assyria, 95 (illus.); Benin, 403; Celtic, 330; champleve, 23, illus., 359; cloisonn6, 23, illus., 271; Cretan, 103; Cuzco, 624; damascen- ing, 23, illus., 306 ; Egypt (Middle Kingdom), 76-80; enameling, 23; Etruscans, 169; Flem- ish, 546-47; form in, 23-24; Gothic, 357-59; Greece, 165; Hindu, 374-76; Inca, 420; Iranian, lot, X02; Japan, 394-96, 397; Minoan, 105; Muhammadan, 295-96; Muhammadan Per- sian, 306-10; Navaho, 658; patina, 2x2 fn.; Persia, 306-10; plating, 23; Renaissance, 459, 521; repousse, 23, illus., 117; Romanesque, 328-31; Rome, 189-90; Russia, 284; Sarma- tian, 101-02; Sassanian, 300-01; Scythians, 101-02; Spain, 560-62; Sumeria, 88-89; Tiahuanaco, 244; twentieth century, 786 Metcalf, Willard L. (1858-1925), 692 fn. Metepec pottery, 701

Metope (mSt'6-pe), 126, illus., 125; definition, x 24, 79 7 ; Parthenon, 1 26 ; Temple of Zeus, 137 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City: Amun temple (model), illus., 64; “Apollo” type statue, 130-32, illus., 131; Arretine Bowl, 190-91, illus., 19 1 ; Ashurnasirpal II, palace, guardian of the gate, illus., 92; Byzantine tex- tile silk, illus., 273; console table, Louis XV, illus., 603; Corinthian Oinochoe, illus., 149; Dance of Death (Holbein the Younger), 551, illus., 552; Fatimid silk textile, illus., 297; Girl in a Swing (clay painted), 113 (illus.); glass vase (Egyptian), illus., 78; horse statuettes (Greek), 139, illus., 140; Laila and Majnun (Mirak), 305-06, illus., 304; Louis XIV table, illus., 603; Louis XV console table, illus., 603; majolica plate (O. Fontana), 522, illus., 520; Median Bringing Horses to King Sargon II, A, illus., 93; necklace with pectoral (Egypt), illus., 78; Northeaster (Homer), 692, ilhis,, 690; Old Market Woman, illus., 163; Persian rug, 310, illus., 309; Rhages bowls, 307-08, 310, illus., 307; Saint Peter (enamel and gold plaque), 271 (illus.) ; silver plate (Chosroes I), illus., 301 ; table, Louis XIV, illus., 603 ; Tomb of Nakht, 73, 75, illus., 72 , 73, 74; View of Toledo (El Greco), 566, illus., 567; When the Morning Stars Sang Together (Blake), 672, Ulus., 671; wood door panel (Muhammadan), illus., 293; Wyndham Sisters, The (Sargent), 690, illus., 689; Young Woman at a Casement (Vermeer), 582-83 , illus., 582 Metzinger, Jean (1883- ), 734 fn.

Mexico: architecture, 618-21; aristocracy, 636; art attainment, 617; church, 636; climate, 230- 32; communication, 754; conquest of, 6x8 fn.; convents, 618-19, 620; folk art, 700-01; geog- raphy, 230-32; human sacrifice, 238; indus- trialization, 754; macabre element, 755; map, 231; Maya, 232; painting, 635, 754-60, 768, 769; pottery, 701; revolution, 754-55, 756, 757- 760, 768; sculpture, 618-21; social revolution, 761; temperament, national, 619; Toltec cul- ture, 238-39

Mexico City, 618; baroque art, 618; Cathedral of Mexico, 620; House of Tiles, 620; Palacio de Mineria, 621, 665

Michelangelo Buonarroti (me'-ke:l-a:n , -je:-lo bwo-nar-ro'te) (1475-1564), 456, 493-96; Berruguete, 558; Bound Slave, 463 (illus), 464; church, loyalty to, 464 fn.; Creation of Adam, 496, illus., 495; David, 432, 433; Day, 464, illus., 463; Decorative Nude, illus., 493; Farnese palace, illus., 458; figure, concept of, 515; “Gates of Paradise,” quoted on, 452; Greco, El, influence on, 564; Jeremiah, 494- 95, illus., 496; Medici Madonna, 464, ilhis., 462; M oses, 462-63, illus., 13; Night, 464, illus., 463; nudes, 495-96, illus., 493, 495; relation- ship in all the parts, 526; St, Peter’s cathedral, 460-62; sculpture, 462-64, quoted on, 11-12, 14; Sistine Chapel ceiling, quoted on, 496 ; space, ideal of, 529; Titian, 515; Tomb of Giulianode’ Medici, 463-64, illus., 463 Michelozzo (me-kg :16t'-so) (1396-1472), 438 Michoacdn (me-cho-it-kiin'), pottery, 701 Micronesia, 404 Middle Ages, 594

Middle American Art, 230, 409-17; bibliography, 417. See also Maya; Toltec Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig (m§'6s van dSr ro'u, lood'vikh) (1886™ ), 7x2-13; Tugendhat house, garden facade, Brno, Czechoslovakia, 712-13, illus., 71 1

Mignard, Pierre (men-ya:r' 5 pyS:r') (1610- 1695), 610

Mihrab (me'rub) (niche), 287 (diag), illus., 291; definition, 797

Milan (mfl'un, mi-lS.nO, Italy, map, 431. See Sant’ Ambrogio; Santa Maria delle Grazie Miletus (ml-le'-tiis), Asia Minor, map, 121 Millard house, Los Angeles, 708 Millefiori (mil-le-fi-o'-re) (“thousand-flower”) bowls, 191

Miller, Kenneth Hayes (1876- ), 744 fn. Milles, Carl (mll'lSs) (1875- ), 773; Folke Filbyter, 773 (illus.)

Millet, Jean-Franco is (me-la/, me-lS', zha' fra- sw40 (1814-1874), 676 fn., 677 Mirnbar (mfm'bar) (pulpit), 287 (diag), illus., ,;’29X

Mimbres pottery, 424, illus., 423 Minaret, 289, 290, illus., 288; definition, 797; Santa Sophia, 258, illus., 259; Taj Mahall, 370, 372> 373. Mu*-, 37i Ming (meng), dynasty, 208, 428; art, 385, 386 Miniature Frescoes (Minoan), 108 fn.

Miniature painting, 18-19; definition, 797; Eng- land, 592; France, 606; Gothic, 356, illus., 357, 358; historiation, 522, illus., 523; Mughal,

INDEX

i.

374; Northern Europe, 534; Persian, 304, (illus.), 305-06; Spain, 563 Ministry of Education and Health, Rio de Janeiro, 71S, Ulus., 719

Mino da Fiesole (me'-no da fya'-zo-le:) (i43°“ 1484), 454 fn. , ,

Minoan civilization and culture, 105 Minos (mi'-nSs) (sea king), 104, 106 Minos, Palace of (Knossos), illus., 105; burned, 106; domestic quarter, diag., 106; Cupbearer (fresco), 107 (Ulus.), 108, 1x3; description, 106-07 ; Prince or Priest-king fresco, xo8, illus., 107; temple frescoes, 108-09, Ulus., 108 Miracle of St. Mark (Tintoretto), 512-13, illus.,

Mirak (me-rak') (Persian painter), 305; Laila and Majnun, 305-06, illus., 304 Miro, Joan (me-ro 7 , ho-an') (1893- ), 738 fn. Composition, 740, illits., 744; Harlequin's Fes- tival, 740 Misericords, 358

Missionaries: French, 638; Latin-America, 618- 19; mass conversion, 619 Missions, California, 633 Mitla (met'-la) (Aztec city), 413, map, 231; Palace II, 413

Mixtec (mls'-tek) art, 413-15; architecture, 413- 14; art attainment, 617; goldwork, 4x4-15; palaces, 425; pectoral of gold, 415 (illus ) ; sculpture, 413-14

Mobile: Horizontal Spines (Calder), 779, illus.,

, 781

Mochica or Muchik. See Chimu Mode (style), 2 Modeling, 12 Modena cathedral, 317 Modern art, 661 ff.

Modern primitivism, chart, 722 Modigliani, Amedeo (mo-del -ya:'ne, a-rnS:- dS/o) (1884-1920), 776 Mohammedan. See Muhammadan Mohenjo-daro civilization, 194 Moissac (mwa-sa:k 7 ), Church at, 322, Ulus., 312, 322

Molding, definition, 797 Mona Lisa (mo'-nu le'zu) (da Vinci), 492-93, illus., 487

Monastery, 3x3, 314, illus., 315; bookmaking, 356; Buddhism, 388; confiscated properties, 586; craftsmen, 328-29; Fujiwara, 388; Hindu, 374; Japan, 224-25, 226; Mexico, 618; Quito, 626 (illus.)-, St. Gall, plan, 315; thirteenth- century, 333; Xenophontos, 264, 267-68 , illus., 266, 268

Mondrian (mSn'dre-an), Piet Comelis (1872- 1944), 710, 735, 767; Composition in White, Black, and Red, 735, illus., 736 Monet, Claude (m6-nS 7 , klod) (1840-1926), 681; Impression: Soleil Levant, 681 fn.; light, knowl- edge of, 682

Mongols: dynasty, 208; migrations, 230; Persia, 302; Russia, 2^6-78, 281, 282 Monkeys (Ashikaga period), illus., 393 Monogram, sacred, 269

Monolith, 40; definition, 797; Greater Chavin stone, 244, illus., 245; Maya, 235, illus., 236, 237; Tiahuanaco gateway, 243-44, illus., 243

Monreale cathedral, 320

Mont Sainte Victoire (mo' se:t vek-twa:r') (Ce- zanne), 725-26, illus., 724 Montage (m 5 n-tazh/), definition, 797 Monte Alban (mon-ta-al-ban 7 ), discoveries (1931), 4x3, 414, map, 231; pectoral, illus., 4x5 Montenegro, Roberto (1885- ), 755, 756 Montreal, Chateau de Ramezay, 639 Monument of Lysicrates (ll-sik'-ru-tez), Athens,

157

Monvoisin, Raymond (1794-1870), 698 Moonlit Cove (Ryder), 692 , illus., 691 Moore, Henry Spencer (1898- ), 776-77; Re- clining Figure, 777, illus., 780 Moorish art: Colombia, 628; Lima, Peru, 622; ornament, 561, 624, 627. See also Alhambra; Mud6jar

Moran, Thomas (1837-1926), 686 fn.

Moriscos (people), 554

Morisot, Berthe (mo-re-zo 7 , bSrt') (1840-1895), 681

Morning Glory, in Japanese art, 379 Moronobu (Japanese painter), 394 Morris, William (1834-1896), 672 fn., 784 Mono (Portinari), 766, illus., 767 Morse, Samuel F. B. (1791-1872), 685; Marquis de Lafayette, The, 685, illus., 686 Mortuary figures, 170, illus., 169 Mortuary temples, Egypt, 58-71, 71-76 Mosaic -.Alexander, 164-65 (illus.)-, Aztec use, 416; Byzantine use, 253, 264, 265, 267, 271, 272, 320; Cavallini, 472 fn.; definition, 253, 797; Galla Placidia Mausoleum, 266; illus., 258;Hellenic, 266; KahriDjami,267fn.; Maya use, 410; Russia, 280, 281; San Vitale, 266, illus., 256; Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, 266, illus., 255; Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna, 256-57, illus. 257; Santa Pudenziana (Rome), 266; Santa Sophia, 259; stone, 799; tesseral, 799; Toltec, illus., 238; Zapotec use, 413 Moscow (mSs'kS), Russia, 613; architecture, 279; Byzantine influences, 277; Cathedral of the Annunciation, 279, 614, illus., 281; Greek painters, 282; Italian architects, 614; St. Basil’s, 279

Moses (Michelangelo), 462-63, illus., 13 Moslem. See Muhammadan Mosque (Masjid): Aleppo, 286 fn.; C6rdoba, Spain, 294; Damascus, 286 fn.; definition, 797; diagrams, 287; hospital, 293; lamps, 295, illus., 296; mihrab, 287 (diag.), illus., 291; mimbar, 287, 291; minaret, 289, 290; illus., 259, 371; Persia, 303; plans, 287; portal, 290, 292; pul- pit, 292-93, illus., 290, 291; sanctuary, 288, 291, 293, illus., 287, 291; windows, 293-94, illus., 294. See also Hassan, Sultan; Ibn Tu- lun; Isfahan; Kait Bey; Santa Sophia Mosul copper mines, 306 Mother of the Gods (Aztec statue), 416 (illus.) Motifs: American Indians, 618, 619, 623-25, 65 6, illus., 617; angular, 720; animal and figure, 561; arabesque, 292, 293 (illus.), 296, 304, 306, 561; Baldovinetti’s use, 480; Brue- ghel Hie Elder, 543; Cellini’s use, 521; Chinese, 211; classical, 436, 591; curvilinear, 720; disk, 709; double-ax, 1x5; dragon, 208, 211, 213; Erechtheum, illus., 128; foliate spiral, 181;

INDEX

French use, 598; fret, 211; Gothic, 557; Goya’s use, 570; Holbein’s use, 551; Hopewell art, 424; hunter, 300, Ulus., 301; Inca use, 420; interlaced circle, 263; Japanese use, 226, Ulus., 392; Latin-American use, 701; lotus, 226, 228; majolica, 522; Manet’s use, 679; Maya use, 237; Melanesians, 407; Milles’ use of, 773; Mixtec use, 415; Moorish, 557; Muhammadan, 295, 291-93; Nazcan use, 241; ogre mask, 21 1; palmette-like, 292; Parthenon frieze, 43, Ulus., 144; Persian use, 304; phoenix, 208, 213, 222; Pisano, A., use of, 435; plateresques, 556; Polynesian, 406; pomegranate, 522, Ulus., 523; Renaissance use of, 435, 440, 443; repeat, illus., 392; Rhages use, 307; Rivera’s use, 758; rosette, 97 [illus.) ; St. Peter’s, Rome, 526; scroll, 560; Spanish use of, 355; stalactite, 292, 294; triangles, 565; winged griffin, 300 [Ulus.); zoomorphic figure, 242

Moulin de la Galette (m 5 o-le' du la galet') (Re- noir), 682

Moulin Rouge (moo-le' roorzh') (Toulouse-Lau- trec), 680, illus., 681 Mound-building, 424 fn.

Mount, William S. (1807-1868), 687 Mountains, drawing of, 380-81, 383 Mounted Indian (Mestrovi£), 773, illus., 772 Mousterian age, 31, 32

Mrs. Freake and Baby Mary (unknown artist), 648, illus., 647

Mrs. Richard Yates (G. Stuart), 649 [illus.) Mshatta Frieze (mshat'-tu), 262, Ulus., 263 Muchik or Mochica. See Chimu MudSjar (moo-da'-hSir) (people), 554, 561, 797; art, 797

MudSjar ceiling: AlcaM, illus., 561; Hispanic- American architecture, 628; Lima, Peru, 622; Mexican use, 618

Mudras (moo-dras') (positions of the hands), 197, 202, 203, 204, 228 Mughal painting, 373-74 Muhammadan-Hindu art, 369-78 Muhammadan -Persian art: metalwork, 306-10;

pottery, 306-10; textiles, 306-10 Muhammadanism and Muhammadan art, 285- 98,306-10, ablution, 288, 291; architecture, 260, 288-95; bibliography, 297-98; creed, 286; faith, 285-86; glass, 295-96; India, 36 2, see also that heading; metalwork, 295-96; mosques, 288-94, 296, 303, see also that heading; Muham- madan-Hindu, 369-78; palaces, 294-95, 296, 303; Persian art, 301-11; rise and spread of, 399; squinch construction, 260; symbolism, use of, 372; textiles, 295-96; women, 294 Mule before the Host, The (Donatello) , 450, illus., 448 ■ . " , ' 1

Mullion, definition, 797, illus,, 354, 443 Mumford, Lewis, on U.S. architecture, quoted, 667

Mummification, 43 Mumtaz-i-Mahall, 370, 372 Munch, Edvard (1 863-1 944) , 737 fn.

Munro, Thomas, quoted on the r6le of the art- ist, 1

Murals and mural paintings: Florence, 433; Gothic, 355; Mexico, 756-57 [Ulus.), 758; Pompeii, 184; Portinari, C&ndido, 766; Puvis

831

de Chavannes, 680; Rivera, 757-58; Roman, 187-89-92; United States, 766. See also Fresco painting

Murillo, Bartolome Esteban (moo-rej'-yo, bar- to- 16 -ma' es-ta'ban) (1618-1682), 563; Im- maculate Conception, 563 [illus.)

Murillo, Gerardo. See Atl, Dr.

Muscovy, principality of, 276-77, 279

Museo National, Lima: monolith, Greater Chavin Stone, 244, illus., 245

Museo Nacional, Mexico, Coatlicue, 4x6 [illus .) ; gold pectoral, 415, [illus.)

Museum, definition, 2

Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: Bare Willows and Distant Mountains (Ma Yuan), 383, illus., 382; Bronze rod-holder from Luristan, illus., 101; Buddhist Votive Stele, 217, illus., 215; Burning of the Sanjo Palace, The (H. Mono- gatari), illus., 391; Ch’en Jung. Wane and Dragon, illus., 247; Chinese landscape, illus., 38x5 Greek gems, illus., 155; Head from Chios, 159; Lady with a Fan (Tanagra figurine), illus., 163; Maitreya, 217; illus., 216; Menkaure [My- cerinus) and His Queen, 53; Peruvian textile, illus., 242;PortraitofaChild (Roman), 186-87, illus., 186; Revere, Paul, silver creamer, 646 [illus.)’, Santa Maria de Mur, frescoes from, 327 fn.; silver creamer (P. Revere), 646 [illus.)-, Snake Goddess , 113 [illus.)] Tanagra figurine, illus., 163; Unknown Roman, 185-86 [illus .) ; Waves at Matsushima (Korin), screen, 393, 'Ulus., 392

Museum of Modern Art, New York City: Barri- cade, The (Orozco), 758, illus., 760; Bird in Flight (Brancusi), illus., 779; Christ (Martins), 775, Ulus., 778; Composition (Miro), 740, illus., 744; Composition in White, Black, and Red (Mondrian), 735, illus., 736; Creole Dance (Figari), 765 [illus.)’, Departure (Beckmann), 737, illus., 738; Flower Festival (Rivera), 758, illus., 759; Gertrude Stein (Picasso), 734; Glass Bowl with Fruit (unknown artist), illus., 692; Green Still Life (Picasso), 734; Kiva, wall painting, 423, illus., 422; Kneeling Woman (Lehmbruck), 775, illus,, 778; Mono (Porti- nari), 766, illus., 767; Persistence of Memory, The (S. Dali), 739-40, illus., 739; Proletarian Victim (Siqueiros) 756 [illus); Stevedores Resting (Guido) , 765, illus., 764; Simmer Land- scape (Davis), 747, illus., 748; Three Women (Leger), 735; Woman in White (Picasso), 734

Museum of the American Indian, Hey e Founda- tion, New York City, gold cylinder, from Lambayeque, Peru, 244 [illus.) ; Navaho blan- ket, 658, illus., 659; Tlingit basket, Alaska, 656 [Ulus), 655

Music: aria, 525; Brazil, 766; Chinese painting, 382-83; France, 603; Germany, 548, 552; harp, Sumerian, illus., 88; jade instruments, 221; listening to, 3; opera, 525; Rajput painting, 374; romanticism, 674; T’ang cups, 384; viol family, 525

Muslim. See Muhammadan

Muslin (textile), 296 fn., 376 [illus) _

Mycenae (mi-se'ne) : Lion Gate, 112 [illus); map, 1 21; Schliemann’s excavations, 104; Treasury of Atreus (tomb), 1 12, illus., no

INDEX

832

Myron (mi'run), Discobolus, 138-39, Ulus., 138 Mysore, Halebid, temple at, 365, illus., 363 Mystic Marriage of St. Francis (Sassetta), 472 (illus.)

Nakht, tomb of, Thebes, 73-75, illus., 72, 73, 74 Naksh-i-Rustum (naksh'-e-roos'tam) , near Per- sepolis, 299

Nannar (nan'-nar) (nature god), 82, 83; Temple of, 86; Stele of Zfrnammu, 86, illus., 85 Naples, Italy, 5x6; Baroque art, 526; map, 431;

Renaissance painting, chart, 317 Naples Museum, Battle Scene between Alexander and Darius, mosaic, Pompeii, 164-65 (illus.) Napoleonic Wars, Goya’s interpretation, 571-72 Nara (na-ra), period (Japan), 228 Narthex, 250, illus., 251; definition, 797; Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339; Norway, _ 326; St. Peter’s (old), illus., 251; Santa Maria in Cos- medin, 252; Santa Sophia, 258 National Gallery, London: Battle Piece (P. Uccello), 477, 479, illus., 4785 Fighting. Teme- raire (Turner), 671, illus., 673; Giovanni Arnol- fini and His Wife (J. van Eyck), 539, illus., 538; Hay Wain (Constable), 670-71, illus., 670; Norham: Sunrise (Turner), 671-72; Rain, Steam and Speed (Turner), 671; Servant of Bocks, The (Manet), 678, illus., 677 National Gallery of Art, Washington: Mrs. Richard Yates (G. Stuart), 649, (illus)] Youth- ful David (Andrea del Castagno), 480, illus., 479

National Museum, Athens: Amphora, geometric, illus., 148; Corinthian capital from temple of Olympian Zeus, 158, illus., 157, 159; Palace Style Vase, 115 (illus), 146; Vaphio Cups, 115-16, illus., 1 17

National Museum (Bargello), Florence: Hera- cles and Antaeus (A. Pollaiuolo), 455, illus., 456; Portrait of a Youth (A. Pollaiuolo), 455, illus., 456; St. George (Donatello), 445-47, illus., 447

National Museum, Lisbon: Temptation of St.

Anthony (Bosch), 542, illus., 541 National Museum, Washington: Haida Indian wooden, chest, 653, illus., 655; shield cover, Kiowa, Oklahoma, 657 (illus)

Nationalism, 704

Naturalism: Bellini, J., 501; Botticelli, 489; Corot, 676-77; European, 6x8; France, 606, chart, 722; Francesco, P. della, 483; Ghiberti, 451, 4535 Hals, Frans, use of, 57s; Gothic use, 345-46, 350, 351, 352, 356, 434; Greece, 120, 142, 145, 155-56; Hindu use, 368 ] Joshua Roll, 266; Laurana, 455; Millet, 676 fn., 677; North- ern Italian painters, 502; painting, 473; Pisa- nello, 502; Pueblo, 423; Renaissance, 472; Robbia, Luca della, 453-54; Roman, 468, 472; thirteenth-century, 470

Nature: African interpretation of, 400-01; Chi- nese painting of , 384; medieval, observation of,

Navaho (na'-vu-ho), art, 657-58; blankets, 658, ilhis., 659; ceremonial rites, 658; map, 231; Renaissance art, influence on, 616 Nave, 250, 251 (illus)] Abbaye-aux-Dames, Caen, 338-39, diag., 338; Abbaye-aux-

Hommes (St. Etienne), 324 (illus)] Amiens cathedral, illus., 345; Chartres, 335-39, 341, illus., 337, 339; Compaiifa, La, Quito, 627, illus., 629; definition, 797; Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339, Ulus., 345; Herreran use, 556; Lin- coln, 354; Mexican churches, 620; Pueblo mis- sion churches, 633; Reims, 341; retables, 557; Romanesque, 324, illus., 3x7; Salisbury cathe- dral, 339 (diag); St. Peter’s, Rome, 460, 462, 526, illus., 459; San Clemente, Rome, 338; San Francisco, Quito, 626, illus., 627; Sant’ Ambrogio, Milan, 340, illus., 317, 338; Sant’ Apollinare, Ravenna, 256-57, illus., 257; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 253, illus., 252; Santa Sophia, 258; Winchester cathedral, illus., 354. See also Choir; Tower Naxos, Cyclades island, map, 121 Nazca (nas'-ka) (people), 418, map, 231 Nazca art and culture, 239, 240-42, 245; jar, 241 (illus); map, 195; pottery, 240-41, 734 fn.; textiles, 241-42

Neandertal man (nS:-5,n/-dur-tal), 31 fn., 32 Near Eastern Art, 42-102 Nebuchadnezzar (nSb'-u-kud-nSz'-ur) , 96, 97 Necking, of a column, 126, illus., 125 Necklace (Paleolithic), illus., 32 N ecklace pendant (Hindu) , 3 75 , illus., 3 74 Necklace with Pectoral (Egypt), illus., 78 Negroes and Negro art: African, 399-404, 408; bibliography, 408; Brazil, 629-30, 766; Cuba, 7 66; influence in sculpture, 776; map, 400; painting, 403-04; sculpture, 399-403. See also Melanesian art Neo-Babylonian art, 96-97 Neoclassicism, 620-21, 66 5, 771 Neolithic art and culture, 31, 38-41; Aegean area, 105; America, 230; bibliography, 41; building, 40; China, 207; Eurasia, central, 102; India, 194; pottery, 39-41, illus., 40; Scandi- navian daggers, illus., 39; stoneware, 39-40; textiles, 39-40; Tigris-Euphrates Valley, 8 2 Neo-plasticism, 735, chart, 722 Neskhi (nes'-kx) (script), 292 Netherlands, 531-32, 534; architecture (20th cent.), 709-10; Berlage, Hendrik P„ 669; colo- nization, 016, 629, 630; exploration, 616; neo- plasties, 735; painting (20 th cent.), 735; people, 532; Protestantism, 574-75, 584; trade, 532, 6x6. See also Dutch art; Flanders; Flemish art Neue Sachlichkeit, Die (the new objectivity), 737-38. See also Beckmann; Grosz Neutra, Richard (1892- ), 717 New England: art, prejudice against, 647; churches, 646; furniture, 646; houses, 644, 645, 646, illus., 643; Marin, John, 745-46, illus., 745; painting, 647; Peirce-Nichols house, Salem, 644, illus., 643; Revere (P.) silver creamer, 646 (illus); Whipple house (Ips- wich), 644 New Mexico, 421

New objectivity, in Germany, 737-38 New Orleans (fir'llnz), Louisiana: architecture, 640-42; balconies, cast-iron, 640, illus., 641; climate, 640; fires, 640 fn; French influence, 638; homes, 640-41; Spanish influence, 633, 640-42

New Spain, 618, 632

INDEX 833

New York City: Custom House (Sub-Treasury), 665; Daily News building, 713; McGraw-Hill building, 714, Ulus., 712; Pennsylvania Sta- tion, 665; Rockefeller Center, 714, Ulus., 713; St. John the Divine, 786; St, Paul’s chapel, 646; Washington Arch, 665. See also Metro- politan Museum; Museum of Modern Art New York Public Library: Lady Wentworth (Copley), 648 (Ulus .) ; Marquis de Lafayette, The (Morse), 685, illus., 686 Newark Museum, George Washington under Council Tree (Pickett), 692, illus., 693 Nicholson, Ben, 777 fn.

Nicola d’ Apulia (ne'-kd-la da-poo :'lya). See Pisano, Nicola

Night (Michelangelo), 464, Ulus., 463 Night W atch (Rembrandt) , 5 76-77 Nike Apteros, Temple of, Acropolis, 128, illus., 123

Nike Fixing Her Sandal (nf-ke), illus., 145 Nike of Paeonius, 16 1

Nike of Samothr ace (s&m'-o-thras), 161 (illus.) Nikko _(nik-ko), tombs at, 389-90 Nile River, 42-43, 45, illus., 44; first cataract, map, 43; Thebes, map, 56; tombs, 59 Nimes (nem). See Pont du Gard Nineteenth-century art, 663-703; architecture, 664-69; artist, r 61 e of, 664, 665; bibliography, 669, 702; European painting, important move- ments, chart, 722; Industrial Revolution, 663- 64; painting, 670-703; sculpture, 771; scien- tific thought, 663-64

Nineveh, 91, 95, 96, map, 43; palace at, paving slab from, illus., 94

Ninkhursag (nin-khoor'-sag), Temple of, copper relief from, illus., 81

Ninsei (Japanese potter), tea bowl, illus., 396 Nirvana (ner-va'-nu), 196, 363 fn.

Nizami (ne-za/-me) (Persian poet), 302, 304-06 No drama (n 5 :), 396

Nofretete (nQ-fru-ta'-tS), Egyptian queen, 70. See also Akhnaton

Nolde, Emil (nol'-da, a'-me:l) (1867- ), 737 fn. Nonobjectivity, 777 fn., chart, 722; in painting, 735, 736; machine arts, 784; sculpture, 776. See also Kandinsky Norham: Sunrise (Turner), 671-72 Northeaster (Homer), 692, illus., 690 Northern Italian painting, 500-19 Northwest coast Indian art, 651-56, 658; carved goat horn spoon handles, 653, illus., 652; map, 231; simultaneity, 734 fn.

Norway, Romanesque, 326 (illus.), 327 Notre Dame (notr' dim')- See Amiens; Char- tres, Louviers; Reims; Rouen Notre Dame de Paris, 349, illus., 348; grotesques, illus., 347; hinges of iron, 359 Novgorod (nov'-g6-r6t) , Russia, 276, 281; Greek painters, 282; Santa Sophia, 277 Nude Descending the Stairs (M. Duchamp), 734 Nudes, 724, 725, 726

Nudes (Michelangelo), 495-96, illus., 493, 495 Nunez del Prado, Marina (noo'nySs dSl pra'dS, ma-re'na) (1910- ), 775 Nunnery, Uxmal, 410 (illus.)

Nuremberg (nu'-r6m ! burg) (Ger. nii :rn'-b§rkh) , Germany, Peller House, 548-49, illus., 549

Oath of the Horatii (hS-ra'-she-I), (J. L. David), 674

Oaxaca, province, Mexico, 413; map, 231; pot- tery, 701

Objective realism, 726, 730 Objectivism: Neue Sachlichkeit, Die, 737-38; United States, 744

Obsequies of St. Francis (Giotto), Santa Croce, Florence, 474-75, Ulus., 474 Obsidian (stone), 70

Obverse of a coin or medal, definition, 797 Oceanian art, 404-08; carving, 405-08; painting, 405-08; pottery, 404

Ochtervelt, Jacob (okh'-tur-velt, ya'-kop) (i634?-i7o8?), 581 fn.

Octopus Jar , 1 14 (Ulus.)

Ogee arch, 352, illus., 350, 351; definition, 797, Ulus., 350, 351 Ogre mask motif, 2x1 Ohio, Hopewell art, 424-26; map, 231 Ohio State Museum, Columbus, tobacco pipe in the form of a wolf (Hopewell), illus., 425 Oil painting, 17, 18, 10

Oinochoe (6y-no'-k6-e), 146 (illus.), 148; Corin- thian, illus., 149

O’Keeffe, Georgia (1887- ), 745, 746-47;

Church at Ranchos de Taos, 747, illus., 746 Old Lady (Rembrandt), 576 Old Market Woman, illus., 163 Old North Church, Boston, Mass., 646 Old South Church, Boston, Mass., 646 Old Testament, as a source of inspiration to Blake, 672

Old Testament Trinity (A. Rublev), 282-83, illus.,

' .282 .

Olympia, Greece, 157, map, 121 Olympia (Manet), 678 Olympus, Mount, map, 121 Omar Khayyd.ni (kha-yam') (died 1123), 302, 310

Or San Michele (or' san'-me-kS'-lS :) , Church of,

446-47

Orator (Etruscan statue) ,170, illus. ,17 3 Orchomenos, Greece; map, 1 21; tomb ceiling, illus., in

Orders of architecture, 797; superimposed, 799.

See also Corinthian; Doric; Ionic Organic architecture, 708 Organic structure, 2-3, 24 Oriel, definition, 797

Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago: Persepolis, 99 m.; royal audience hall, stair- way to , illus., 98, 99; Persia, excavations, 98 fn.; seal cylinder, Sumerian, Ulus., 87 Ormazd (6r'-miizd), 98

Ornament and ornamentation: arabesque, 292, 293 (illus.), 295, 296, 304, 306, 561; art nou- veau, 669; Baroque use, 528; beadwork, 656- 57; Brazil, 631, 632; Byzantine, 250, 262-63; chasing, 794; China, 2x3, 2x4, 222, illus., 220; Christian, early; 262-63; domestic architec- ture (20th cent.), 7x7; Egypt, 55; English use, 588, 589, 591; Farnese palace, 528; filigree, 330 * 7955 finial, 349, 795, Ulus., 346; French, 598; 599, 601, 638; French Canadian, 639; fret, 244, 795, illus., 148, 2x1; gateways (Hindu), 199 (illus.)’, German use, 548, 552-53; Gothic

INDEX

834

use, 341, 346, 349, 358; guilloche, 127, 796, illus., 126; Hindu use, 364, 375; historiation, 522, 796, Ulus., 523; Maya use, 234, 235, 410, 628; Meander, 244, 795, illus., 148, 211; Mel- anesian use, 406-07 ; metal, illus., 603 ; Mexi- can use, 619; Moorish, 561, 624, 627; Muham- madan, 290, 291-92, 293, 294; nineteenth- century use, 668; Norman, 325; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; pagodas, 214; pinnacle, used as, 346; plateresque, 555 {illus.), 556; Renais- sance use, 181, 440, 441; rococo, 602; Roman use, 180-82, 191, 266; Romanesque, 317, 321, 322-23, 330, illus., 319, 325, 326; Russian use, 6x4; San Xavier del Bac, 633; Sant’ Andrea (Mantua), 438; Santa Sophia, 260; Sevres porcelain, 604; skyscrapers, 668; Spanish love of, 55S> 556, 560, 573; stalactite, 798; stucco, 292, 294, 391 ; tracery, 799; trefoil, 344; twenti- eth-century use, 715, 720; Versailles, 602; wrought-iron, 441 ; Zapotec use, 413. See also Stained glass; Streamlining Orozco, Jose Clemente (d-roth'-ko, ho-sa' kla- m&n'-ta) (1883- ), 755, 756, 758-60; Barri- cade, The , 758, illus., 760; Man in Four Aspects (fresco), 7 59, illus., 761 Orvieto, Italy, map, 431 Orvieto cathedral (6r-vyS:'t§), 435; Last Judg- ment (Signorelli), 485 (illus.) ; San Brizio chapel, 485 ; Scenes from Genesis (L. Maitani), illus., 437

Osiris (6~s!'-ris) (god of the dead), 42 Osiris and Goddesses, Temple of Seti, Abydos, illus., 69

Oslo Museum, carved doorway, illus., 326 Oud (oud'), Jacobus Johannes Pieter (1890- ), 710-11; row of houses, Hook of Holland, 710, illus., 708

Ouro Preto (o'oo-ro pra'to), Brazil, 631-32; Rosario dos Pretos (J. Pereira Arouca), 632, illus., 631; Sao Francisco (A. F. Lisbda), 632, illus., 630

Oval, architectural use of: Rosario dos Pretos, 632, illus., 631; Salvador cathedral, 632 Ovoid, illus., 17 Oxford Divinity School, 354

Pachacamac (pa-cha-ka-mak') , Peru, 418, map, 231

Padua (pM'-u-u) , Italy: Arena chapel, 473-74, 501, illus., 473, 475; Gatlemelata, 447, 450, illus., 449; map, 431; Mule before the Host, The (Donatello), 450, illus., 448; Venetian paint- ing, influence on, 501-02 Paeonius, Nike of, 161

Pagoda, 214-15, illus., 214; definition, 797; Japan, 224, 225, illus., 223; Peiping, illus., 2x4; porcelain, 214 Pailou (pl-lo) (gateway), 215 Painting: abstraction, 473; Aegean, 106-12; African Negro, 403-04; anecdotal, 689; Argen- tina, 625, 764-65; attitudes in, 473; Baroque, 530; Bolivia, 762-63; Brazil, 765-66; Bush- men, 403 (illus.), 404; Byzantine, 265-68, 473; Canada, 752-54, 768; Caribbean, 760-67; Chile, 763-64; China, 2x8-22, 380-84; Chris- tian, early, 265-68; cubism, 7x0; Cuzco, 623, 624, 635-36; Dante, quoted, 197; dis-

temper, 532; Dutch, 575-84; Egypt, 71-76 Egyptian figure treatment, 46-48; England. 592-94, 670-73; English American, 646-49: Etruscan, 170-71; everyday life, 538; exhibi- tion of, 219; Flemish, 534-46; Florentine, 468- 500; France, 603, 606-1 x, 674-85; fresco, 17- 18, 19, see also that heading ; Germany, 549- 52; Giotto, attitude toward, 473; Gothic, 355- 56; Greece, 145, 156, 189, 164-66; Hindu, 197, 373-74; Hispanic-American, 633-37; im- pressionism, see that heading ; India, 203-05, 206; Italian, northern, 500-19; Japan, 229, 390-94, 397; Latin America, 634-37, 696-702; Maya, 411-13; Mexico, 760, 768, 754-60, 769; miniature, 18-19; Mughal, 373-74; Muham- madan, 295, 296-97; murals, see that heading; naturalism, 473; nineteenth-century, 670-703; Oceania, 405-08; oil, 17, 18, 19, 480; panels, 189; Persia, 304-06; pictorial form, 17-20; pigment, 17, 18; Plains Indian, 657; pottery, 16; prehistoric, 34—38; Pueblo, 421-23; pur- pose of, da Vinci, quoted, 490; Quito, 626; Rajput, 373-74; Renaissance, 468-519; rococo, 606; Rome, 187-89, 192; Russia, 281-84, 615; sand, 658; Sienese, 468-500; South America, 760-67; Spain, 562-73, 622; spatial arrange- ments possible in, illus., 19; study, necessity of, 24; surface, 594; surrealism, 738—41; sweet prettiness, 594; tempera, see that heading; tomb (Egypt), 71-76; twentieth-century, 721- 43; United States, 685-96, 743—51; Uruguay, 765; water color, 17, 18-19; Zen Buddhist, 384

Pala d’Oro (Altar of Gold), St. Mark’s, Venice, 265

Palace. See Akhnaton; Amarna; Artaxerxes; Ashurbanipal; Ashurnasirpal; Barberini; Ca d’Oro; Cancelleria; Ctesiphon; Cuernavaca; Diocletian; Domitian; Farnese; Florence; Guadagni; Hampton Court; Han dynasty; Khorsabad; Knossos; Medici-Riccardi; Medi- net Habu; Minos; Mitla; Nebuchadnezzar; Nineveh; Rucellai; Sargon II; Strozzi; Ven- dramini; Venice; Versailles; Whitehall; Xerxes; Zapotec

Palace Style Vase, 115 (illus.), 146 Palacio de Mineria, Mexico City, 621, 665 Palacio de Torre Tagle, El, Lima, 622, illus., 623 Palazzo Pubblico (poo :b'- 4 e-ko) , Siena, 472 fn.;

iron grille, 441, illus., 440 Palenque (pa-len'-ka), Maya city, 232, map, 231:

Temple of the Cross, 234, illus., 233 Paleolithic art, 29-38, 31; bibliography, 41;

China, 207; flints, 710; necklace, illus., 32 Palermo, Sicily, 330, map, 431 Palette knife: Constable’s use, 671; Courbet’s use, 677; Van Gogh’s use, 726 Palladian form, of Renaissance, 588, 590; Ameri- can colonial use, 465, 645 Palladio (pal-la'-de-o) , Andrea (1518-1580), 464-65; Villa Rotonda, 465, illus., 466; Basil- ica, Vicenza, 465, 588 (illus.)

Palm column, 51

Pannemaker, Willem de, tapestry designs, 546 f«-

PantMon (pa-ta-o') (Sainte-Genevieve), Paris, 665

INDEX 835

Pantheon (pan'-the-un) , Rome, 176, 179, 665, illus., 176, 177

Pantocrator (pan-tok'-ru-tor), 320 Pantry Door (P. de Hooch), 581 (illus.), 582 Papal court, 457

Paper: drawings, 20; Japanese use, 389; prints, 20; wood blocks, 21

Papier colU (pa-pya/ ko-la/) (collage), 734 Papyrus (pu-pl'rus), capital, 66-67 Papyrus plant, 66, illus., 61 Paracas textiles, 242

Paris, France: Arc de Triomphe, 665; archi- tecture, 600; art center, 723; Charivari, 677; Eiffel Tower, 666; Hotel des Invalides, 600-01, illus., 600; Hotel Soubise, 602 (illus.)', Sainte- Genevieve (Pantheon), 665; sculpture, 770; United States artists, 688. See also Biblxo- theque N ationale ; Collection de Clercq ; Come- die Frantpaise; Louvre; Notre Dame de Paris Parks and gardens: American colonial, 645; Brazil, 7x8, 720; England, 586, 590, illus., 585; France, 601 ; housing projects, 720; Japan, 388, 389; Persia, 303, 305; Renaissance, 457, 459, illus., 458; Roman houses, 184; sculpture, 775; Versailles, 601; Villa d’Este, illus., 458; Wil- liamsburg, 645 fn.

Parma, Italy, 5x4, map, 431 Parma cathedral: Assumption (Correggio), 514 (illus.) , Correggio, 514, 530 Parnassus, Mount, map, 121 Paros, island, Aegean, 122, map, 121 Parrhasius (pa-ra'-shi-us) (Greek painter), 164 Parthenon (par'-thu-nSn), Athens, 125-27, 155, illus., 118; Cavalcade of Mounted Youths, 142 (illus.), 143; column, 125-26, illus., 124; con- tinuous frieze, 140; details and accents, 143; eastern pediment, 141, illus., 143, 144; Jar- Carriers, 143-44, illus., 144; Nike (east pedi- ment), 16 1; Phidias, 140; plan, illus., 123; re- productions, printed for study, 142 fn.; sculp- ture, 140-44; Three Fates, 141-42, illus., 143. See also Acropolis Pastel, Degas’ use, 679, illus., 680 Pater, Jean-Baptiste (pa-t£:r', zha'-ba-test') (1696-1736), 6x0

Pathetic Song, The (Eakins), illus., 688 Patina, defined, 212 fn., 797 Patio, definition, 797; plan, 7x1 Paul III, Pope, and Eis Grandsons (Titian) , 511 Pazzi chapel (pa:t'-se), Santa Croce, Florence, 438, illus., 441

Peabody Museum, Harvard University: Mayan vase from Cop&n , illus., 236; Mimbres bowl, illus., 423; Young Maize God, 235-36, illus., 234 Peacock, in Christian art, 254, 269 Peale, Charles W. (1741-1827), 649 fn.

Peasant Family (L. le Nam), 607-08, illus., 607 Peasant Going to Market (Vienna), 162 Pechstein, Max (1881- ), 737 fn.

Pectoral of gold (Mixtec), 415 (illus.)

Pediment, 124, 457, illus., 125, 175, 177, 458; definition, 797 ;

Pegasus (Lipchitz), 777, illus., 779

Peiping (ba'-peng), China: pagoda, 214 (illus.);

Temple of Heaven, 2x4, illus., 213 Peirce-Nichols house, Salem, Massachusetts, 644, illus., 643

Peking man, 207

Pelaez, Amelia (pa-la/es, a-ma/lya) (1897- ), 766

Pellegrini, Carlos Enrique (1800-1875), 698 Peller House, Nuremberg, 548-49, illus., 549 Peloponnesus, map, 12 1

Pena, Tonita (pa'nya, to-ne'ta) (Quail Ah), Eagle Dance, 750, illus., 751 Pencils (graphite), 20

Pendentive, illus., 9, 260, 261; Byzantine use, 304, 314; definition, 797; Parma cathedral, 514. See also Domes

Pennsylvania Railroad T-x Locomotive, illus., 782

Pennsylvania Station, New York City, 665 Pentecost (El Greco), 566-67, illus., 5 66 Pentelicus (pSn-tel'-i-lcus), Greece, X2 2 Perfume Spoon (Egyptian), Louvre, 77, illus., 76 Pergamon (pu-.r'-gu-mSn), Asia Minor, 156, map, 121; Figures, 162

Peripteral (pg-rip'-tur-ul) definition, 797, illus., 118, 123

Peripteral temple, 123

Peristyle, 184, illus., 118, 123, 185; definition, 797

Peris Galleries, New York City, Afro-Cuban Dance (Carrefio), 766-67, illus., 768 Perotti, Jose, 764

Perrault, Claude (pa-ro', klo:d') (1613-1688), 599) 600

Perret (pS-rS') , Auguste, 669 Persepolis (pur-sSp'-6-Hs), Persia, 99-100; map, 43; royal audience hall, stairway to, Ulus., 98,

'■ 99

Persian art, 298-311; Achaemenian art, 98-103; architecture, 299, 303-04; books, 304-05; capi- tal, illus., 100; Christian communities, 249; geography and climate, 303, 305 ; gouache, 18- 19; map, 43; metalwork, 300-01, 306-10; mosques, 303; Muhammadan art, 301-ir; painting, 304-06; pottery, 306-10; Rhages, 307; Sassanian art, 298-301; sculpture, 299- 300; silk industry, 272; silverwork, 300-01, 306, 3x0; textiles, 300-01, 306-10, illus., 242 Persistence of Memory, The (S, Dali), 739-40, illus., 739

Perspective, 480; definition, 797; Donatello’s use, 450; Masaccio’s use, 477; Pollaiuolo, use of, 481; Uccello’s use, 477-78 Peru, 239, 242, map, 231; art attainment, 617; gold cylinder, 244 (illus.); Inca culture, 761- 62; Indigenist school, 762; painting, 761-62; textile, 242 (illus.); viceroyalty of, 621. See also Cuzco; Lima Perugia, Italy, map, 431 Perugino, Pietro (pSi-roo-je'-no, pyat'-ro) (1446- 1523?) : Crucifixion, 496-97, illus., 497; Raph- ael, pupil of, 496

Peruzzi, Baldassare (p6:-roo:t'tse, bal-da-sh:'- rS:) (1481-1536), 456 fn.

Pesaro Madonna (pa'-za-r6), 510 Peter the Great (1682-1725), 613, 614 Peterhof, 614

Pettoruti, Emilio (1895- ), 765 Pevsner, Antoine (p&v'snur, In-tw&n'), 777 fn. Phidias (fid'-e-us), 139-40, 145, 159, illus., 141; Athena Lemnia, 139-40, illus.,

INDEX

836

Philadelphia Museum of Art: City, The (Leger), Ulus., 661; Large Composition with Nude Fig- ures (Cezanne), 726; Virgin Adoring the Infant Jesus (Luca della Robbia), illus., 452; Woman •with Loaves (Picasso), 734 Philadelphia Savings Fund Society building, Philadelphia, 714-15, illus., 715 Philip XI, Spanish king (1556-98), 556, 563, quoted , 567 fn.

Philip IV Spanish king (1621-65), Vel&squez, 568

Philip Augustus (1x80-1223), 332 Philip of Macedon, 156 Philippine Islands, map, 207 Phillips Memorial Gallery, Washington: Church at Ranchos de Taos (G. O’Keeffe), 747, illus., 746; Luncheon of the Boating Party (Renoir), 682-83, illus., 683; Maine Islands (Marin), 745-46, illus., 745; Moonlit Cove (Ryder), 692, illus., 691; Uprising, The (Daumier), 678, illus., 679

Phoenix motif, 208, 2x3, 222 Photomontage, definition, 797, illus., 787 Phyfe (fif), Duncan (1768-1854), 646 Picabia, Francis (pe-ka'-bya, fra-ses') (1879-

), 734 fn.

Picasso, Pablo (pe-ka'-so, pab'-lo) (1881- ), 729, 733-35; Gertrude Stein, 734; Green Still Life, 734; Guernica, 734-35; sculpture, 776; simultaneity, 734 fn,; Still Life: “Vive la . . 734, illus., 733; Table, La, illus., 732;

Three Musicians, The, 734; Woman in White, 734; Woman with a Fan, The, 734; Woman with Loaves, 734

Pickett, Joseph (1848-1918), 692; George Wash- ington under Council Tree , 692, illus., 693 ] Pictographs, 2x8

Pictorial form: drawing, 20-22; painting, 17-20; prints, 20-22

Piedras Negras (pya'dras na'gras), Mexico, 234, map, 231; Corn Stele, 235 (illus.)

Pier: ABI building, Rio de Janeiro, 719; but- tress, 341, 353, illus., 346; clustered or com- pound, 316, 324) 336 , 337 > 340 , 341; definition, 797; domes, use with, 260, 261; Maya use, 409 ; Reims cathedral, 352; Romanesque use, 316; Winchester cathedral, 354 Pierpont Morgan Library, New York City: Bullock. From Manafi al-Hayawan (Bes- tiary), 304, illus., 305

Pietd (pya-ta:') (Giovanni Bellini), 505-06, illus., 505; (Faggi), 773; (Giotto), fresco, Arena chapel, Padua, 473-74, illus., 475; (Middle of 15th cent., Louvre), 606-07, illus., 605; (Xenophontos fresco), 267-68, illus., 268 Pigment: batik, 22; Constable’s use, 671; Cour- bet’s use, 677; Daumier, 677; definition, 17; egg, use of, 18; Hals, Frans, use of, 575; Hindu use, 203; impressionism, 692; Impressionist use, 682; Orozco’s use, 758; oil, 18; Rubens’ use, 545; Sargent, 690; Seurat’s use, 683-84; Speicher’s use, 744; Titian’s use, 511; Van Eyck, 537; Van Gogh’s use, 726-27; Velasquez’ use, 569, 570; water color, 18-19. See also Color

Pilaster, definition, 797, illus., 459, 461, 463, 600, 643

Pile fabric, definition, 798, illus., 308, 309, 523 Pillar, definition, 798

Pinnacle, 341, 349, illus., 341, 34 6 , 35 °; defini- tion, 798

Piranesi (pe-ra-na'-ze), Giovanni Battista (1720- 78), Pantheon, illus., 176 Pisa (pe'-za), Italy: Leaning Tower, 318-19; map, 431

Pisa cathedral, 3x8; Baptistery pulpit, 434, illus., 432, 434; Crucifixion (N. Pisano), 434 (illus.) Pisanello. See Pisano, Antonio, 521 Pisano, Andrea (pe-za/-no, iin-dre'-a) (c. 1270- 1348), 435-36; Baptistery, south doors, Flor- ence, 435, illus., 436; bronze doors, 451 fn.; Weaving from the campanile of the cathedral, Florence, illus., 441

Pisano (Pisanello), Antonio (an-t6'-ne-o : pe-za- ngl'-lo:) (c. 1395-1455)) 521; naturalism, 502 Pisano, Giovanni (jo-vam'-ne) (c. 1250-1330), 434-35; Crucifixion, illus., 435 Pisano, Nicola (1206-1278), 434; Crucifixion, illus., 434; pulpit in the baptistery of the cathedral of Pisa, 434, illus., 432,^434 Pisarro, Camille (pe-sa-ro', ka-me:y') (1830- 1903), 681

Pistoia (pe-sto'ya), Italy, map, 431; Crucifixion (G. Pisano), illus., 435

Pitti, Florence, Portrait of an Unknown Man (Titian), 510, illus., 509 Pizarro, Francisco (d. 1541), Inca empire, 621 Plains Indian art, 656-57, 659; costumes, 656. 657; map, 231; painting, 657; Renaissance art, influence on, 616; tipis, 656, 657 Plane interpretation, 777 fn.

Planography, 20, 21-22 Plantation houses, 640-41 Plate tracery, 799 (

Plateresque style (pl&t-u-rSskO, 555-56; Carib- bean area, 628; Hispanic American, 636; Mexico, 619 Plating of metals, 23 Plato, 156 Po Valley, 314

Pointed arch, 336, 340, diag., 336, 339 Pointillism, 684, chart, 722. See also Seurat; Signac

Pol de Limbourg (pol du la-boo :r'), 534; Decem- ber, from the Tres Riches Heures, 356, illus,, 358 x _

Pollaiuolo, Antonio (pol-la-yoo-o'-lo, an-tS'~ nyo:) (1429-1498), 455, 480-81; Battling Ntides, 481, illus., 480; chiaroscuro, 515; Hera- cles and Antaeus, 455, illus., 456; Heracles Slaying the Hydra, 481 (illus)) Portrait (?), 481-82, illus., 485; Portrait of a Youth, 455, illus., 456

Polo, Marco, 378, 386, 429 Polychromy: Brazil, 632; Chartres, 348; Flemish use, 532; Japanese use, 390; Mexican use, 619; porcelains, 396; printing, 394; Spanish use of, 559; woodcarving, 628 Polyclitus (p 81 -l-kli'~tus), i44~45 Polygnotus (p 51 -ig-n 5 '-tus) (Greek artist), 145 Polynesian art and culture, 404-05, 406; Tapa, 405, 406, 408; woodcarving, 408; carved prow of a canoe, illus., 406 Pomegranate motif, 522, illus., 523

INDEX

Pompeii (pbm-pa'-ye) : Battle Scene between Alexander and Darius, mosaic, from the floor of the House of the Faun, 164-65 (Ulus.); destruction of, 190; house, 184 (illus.); Rouse of Pansa, diag., 185; murals, 187-89; Villa of Livia, frescoes from, 188 (illus.); 'wall decora- tion, illus., 189 Ponce de Le6n (1895- ), 766 Poncho, from an island in Lake Titicaca, 420, illus., 418

Pont du Gard, Nimes (po dii gar'), 175, Ulus., 174 Porcelain: definition, 15, 798; France, 603-05, 6x1; Japan, 396; pagodas, 214; Sung, 384-85; T’ang dynasty, 384, 385 Porch, Gothic use of, diags., 338, 339 Porta, Giacomo della (porr'-ta, ja-ko:'-md del'-la), Farnese palace, illus., 458 Portico: adobe houses, 633; American colonial use, 646; Chartres, 344; Hindu temples, 363, 364, 369; Palladio’s use, 465, 590; Russian use, 614; St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, 589-90, illus., 591; St. Paul’s, London, 589, illus., 588; Taurida palace, 6x4

Portinari, Candido (1903- ), 718, 766; Mono, 766, illus., 767

Portland vase, 19 1, illus., 190 Portrait jar (early Chimu), 241, illus., 240 Portrait medallion of Ferdinand and Isabella, 555 (illus.), 556

Portrait of a Child, (Roman) 186-87, Ulus., 18 6 Portrait of a Lady (unknown artist) (c. 1460), 481-82, illus., 485

Portrait of a Youth (A. Pollaiuolo), 455, illus.,

Portrait of an Old Woman (Rembrandt), 580 Portrait of an Unknown Man (Titian), 510-11, illus., 509

Portrait of His Wife (Goya), 570-71, illus., 570 Portrait of Miss Alexander (Whistler),, 689 (illus.) Portraiture: African Negro, illus., 402; American colonial, 646-49; Antonello da Messina, 504; Cezanne, 724, 726; Clouet, 607; Corneille de Lyon, 607; Despiau, 773; Dutch, 575, 576,

577 ) 578 , 580; Egypt, 51, 52-53, 56, 67, 69, 70,

80; England, 586, 590, 592, 593 , 5945 Epstein, Jacob, 773; France, 606, 607, 611, illus., 674, 676; Gainsborough, 594; Goya, 570-71; Hals, Frans, 576; Hogarth, 593; Holbein, 551; Houdon, 605-06; Japan, 390, 391; Latin America, 698; Mantegna, 503-04, Mexican, 635; Ponce de Le6n, 766; Rembrandt, 576; Reynolds, 594; Roman, 181, 185, 187, 189; Saint-Gaudens, 771 ; Sargent, 690; Spilimbergo, 765; United States, 685, illus., 686; Van Dyck, 545-46; Van Eyck, 535; Weyden, R. van der, 540; Velasquez, 568, 569; Whistler, 689, 690, 691. See also Icon

Portugal, 616, 629, 663. See also Brazil Posada, Tos6 Guadalupe (po-sa/da, ho-sa' gwa-da-lfi'pS) (1851-1913), 755; Calavera; Don Quixote, 755 (Ulus.)

Post, Frans, 698, 766

Postimpressionism, 723, chart, 722. See also CSzanne; Gauguin; Van Gogh Potosf, Bolivia, 624, 625; San Lorenzo, facade detail, 624-25, illus., 617 Potter’s wheel, 241, illus., 15

837

Pottery: Aegean, 1 14-17; American Indian, 653, 654; Arretine, 190-91 (illus.); Celadon, 385; ceramic form, 15-17; ceramic wall decoration, 306; Chimu, 240-41; Chinese, 384-85; coil, method, 16, illus., 15; Cretan, 105; decoration, 1 16; definition of, 15, 798; earthenware, 15; Egypt, 76-80; firing, 16; function, 16, 17; geometric, 146-47, illus., 148; geometric volumes, basic, illus., 17; glazing, 16; Greece, 165; Hispano-Moresque, 561; human figure, Greek use of, 149, 152; inscriptions, Greek, 152; Japan, 394-96, 397; Latin America, 700-01; luster, 16; machine arts, 785; making, 15 (illus.), 16; mass production, 16; Maya, 237, 413, illus., 236, 237; Mesolithic, 39-40; Mexi- can, 619-20, 701; Ming, 385—86 ; modern, 785-86; Muhammadan Persian, 306-10; Nazca ; 240-41; Neolithic, 39-41, illus., 40; Oceania, 404; painting, 16; Persia, 306-10; porcelain, 15, see also that heading; Puebla, 700; Pueblo, 423-24; red-figured, 152; Rhages, 307-08, 310, illus., 307; Rome, 189-90; sculpture, small, 786; Spain, 560-62; stone- ware, 15; three-dimensional painting as decoration, 522; Tiahuanaco, 244 Poussin, Nicolas (poo-sg 7 , ne-ko-la/) (1594- 1665), 608-09, 676; Funeral of Phocion, 608- 09, illus., 608

Pozzo, Andrea del (pflt'-sfi), St. Ignatius Carried into Paradise, 528, illus., 527 Pozzolana (sandy earth), 174 Prado, Madrid: Entombment (Titian), 511 (illus.); Family of Charles IV (Goya), 570, Illus., 571; Immaculate Conception (Murillo), 563 (Ulus.); Maids of Honor (Veldsquez), 568-70, illus., 569; Pentecost (El Greco), 566-67, illus., 566; Portrait of His Wife (Goya), 570-71, illus., 570; Shooting of the Rebels of May 3, 1808 (Goya), 571-72, illus., 572

Pratt, Matthew (1734-1805), 649 fn.

Praxiteles (prfik-sit'-e-lSz) (Greek sculptor), 159; Hermes with the Infant Dionysus, 158 ( illus .), 159

Predella (prS:-dSl'-la), 502 fn.; definition, 798 Prehistory, defined, 31

Prendergast, Maurice B. (1861-1924), 692 fn., 694

Pre-Raphaelite movement, England, 672-73 Priene (prj-e'-ng), Asia Minor, 157 ; map, 121 Primitive art, 726, 728, 729 Primitives, 692

Prince or Priest-king, from palace at Rnossos, 108, illus., 107

Princess of the House of Naples, A (Laurana), 455 (Ulus.)

Princeton chapel, windows, 786 Printing process: engraving, 21; etching, 21; invention, 523-24; movable type, 523; poly- chrome, 394. See also Books Prints, 20-22; intaglio, 20, 21; planography, 20, 21-22; relief, 20-21. See also Engraving; Japanese; Lithography; Woodcuts Prior Park, near Bath, 590 Procession of Mammoth, at Font-de-Gaume, 36 Proletarian Victim (Siqueiros), 756 (illus.) Prophets (Congohas do Campo), 632

INDEX

Propylaea, Athens, 665 Prostyle (pro'-stll), temple plan, 123 Protestantism, 531, 534, 548; art, attitude to- ward, 575; England, 585, 586; Netherlands, 574-75, 584; Puritanism, 575, 649 Protogenes (pro-toj'e-nez) (Greek painter), 104 Prudential (Guaranty) Building, Buffalo, 668 Pskov (pskoff) , Russia, 277, 281; map, 276 Puebla, Cathedral of (c. 1356-1649), 619, illus., 618; high altar, 619 (illus.)

Puebla pottery, 700 Puebla tiles, 700

Pueblo art and culture, 421-24; agriculture, 421; architecture, 421-23; basketry, 423-24; bibli- ography, 425-26; map, 231; painting, 421-23; pottery, 423-24; religion, 421, 423 Pueblo Bonito (Beautiful Village), 423 Pueblo Indians, 633, 657-58 Pueyrredon, Prilidiano (pwa-rra-don', pre-le- de-a'no) (1823-1870), 698 Pulpit: baroque, 545 ; Cosmati work, 320 (illus .) ; Kait Bey, illus., 290; mimbar, 287 (diag), illus., 291; Pisa Baptistery, 434, illus., 432, 434; Pisano (G.), illus., 433; Pisano (N.), 434, illus., 432, 434; St. Gudule, 545; San Bias, Cuzco, 624 (illus.)-, Ravello, 320 (illus.) Puritanism, 575, 585, 392- 93, 649, 672 Putti (poo:-t'-te) (sing, putto), 493, 556, illus., 444, 449; definition, 798 Puvis de Chavannes (pii-ve' dfi sha-v2.:n'), Pierre C6cile (1824-1898), 680 Pylon, 62, 63, 65, 67, 79, illus., 62 , 63, 68; definition, 798

Pyramid, illus., 8; ceremonial vase, 50, illus., 55; Cheops, 49, illus., 45; Giza, 45> 49> 5°, Mus., 49; Hindu use of, 364; Khafre, 50, 51, illus., 45> 49, 52; Khufu, 49, 50, illus., 45, 49, 52; location, 44 fn.; Middle Kingdom, 58-59; Pharaohs, 50; Sahure, 51, illus. , 52, 53-, struc- ture, 45-46, 49-50

Pyramid temples: Aztec, 415-16; Maya, 233 (illus.), 234; Toltec, 238 Pyramidal grouping, 492, 498, 500, 507

Quality, in art, 784

Quattrocento (kwat-tro-chen'-to) , 429, 433, 486, 500

Quercia, Jacopo della (kwSr'-cha, ya'-k6:-po d§l'-la) (1375-1438), 44 2 -43; Allegorical

Figure , 443, 445 (illus.)-, Expulsion (marble panel), 445, illus., 444; Haria del Carretto (Tomb), 443, illus., 444

Quetzalcoatl temple (kSt'-std-ko-atlO , 238-39, illus., 238 Quill pens, 20 Quillwork, 656

Quirigud (ke-re-gwa/), Guatemala, 232, map, 231;

Great Dragon of, 235, illus., 236, 237 Quito, Ecuador, 621, 626; art center, 626; Companla, La, 626-27, illus., 628, 629; San Francisco, 626 (illus.)] Santiago, Miguel de, 635

Qum, dome of, 303 Quoins, definition, 798, illus., 458 Quoniam page (kwo'ni-dm), of the Book of Lindisfarne, 327, 328 (illus.)

Qur’an. See Koran

Rafiic mausoleum, 773

Racine, Wisconsin, Johnson (S. C.) and Son Administration Building, 709, illus., 707 Raeburn, Sir Henry (1756-1823), 594 fn.

Raft of the Medusa (T. Gericault), 675 Ragas (musical theme), 374 fn.

Rain, Steam and Speed (Turner), 671 Rajah in the Mudra of Exposition, 204, illus., 205 _

Rajput painting (raj-poot'), 373~74, 377 Raking cornice, definition, 798, illus., 125 Ramayana (ra-ma'-yu-nu) (epic), 196 Harnesses II (ram'u-sez, ra-me'sez), the Great, 58; Temple of Abu Simbel, illus., 67 Ramesses III, temple of, at Medinet Habu, Thebes, illus., 68-69 Ramp, definition, 798, illus., 83, 90 Ranofer (ra-nof-ur), 53, 70-71, illus., 54 Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus (Rubens), 545, illus., 544

Raphael, Sanzio (ra - /fa-e:l sa:n-tsyo) (1483- 1520), 456 fn., 496-99; Disputd, 498-99, illus., 499; Madonna: “La Belle JardinUre,” 497-98, Ulus., 497; Madonna of the Chair, 498; Madonnas, 497-98; School of Athens, 499, illus., 498; Sistine Madonna, 498 Rappresentazioni (ra-prS :-zS :n-tat-syo :'-ne) (pamphlets), 524

Rastrelli, Count B. F. ( 1700-17 71), 6x4 Havana (giant), 367 Ravello (ra-vSl'-lo) , pulpit, 320 Ravenna (ra-vSn'-u), Italy, 252-53; map, 431; San Vitale, 258, 266, illus., 256, 258, 264; Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, 253-54, 256, illus., 254, 255; Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo, 256-57, illus., 257; Sarcophagus of Theodore, 268-69, illus., 269

Ravi (ra'-ve) (men’s house), 406 Ray, Man (1890- ), 738 fn.

Ray or Rayy. See Rhages RCA building, Rockefeller Center, New York City, 10, 714 , illus., 7x3 Re or Ra (ra) (god), 42

Read, Herbert, on abstract and non-objective art, quoted, 736

Realism, 768, 771; American colonial, 648; Antonello da Messina, 504; Brueghel the Elder, 544; Carvaggio, 5x5, 530; Courbet, 677; Cranach, 552; Eakins, 690-91; Flemish, 535, 541; Germany, 737-38; Goya, 570; Greece, 162, 164; Homer, W., 692; Mantegna, 503, 504; nineteenth-century, 664; Northern, 540, 542; objective, 726, 730; Rome, 190, 192; sculpture, 771; Spanish, 558, 559, 563, 625, 634, 636; Van Eyck’s, 539; Veldsquez, 568,

569

Reality, absolute, 739 Rebozo (shawl), 701

Reclining Figure (Moore), 777, illus., 780 Red crayon, 20

Redfield, Willis (1869- )> 692 f n - Reformation, 525, 548, 549, 579 Regionalist (costumbrista) painters, 697, 698-99; 698-99

Reims (ras') cathedral, 349 (illus.) ; buttressing, diag., 341; Chalice of St. Remi, 358, 359; nave, 341; north side, illus., 350; pier but-

INDEX

tresses, 341; piers of, 352; Smiling Angel of, 351 (illus.); tracery, illus., 349 Reindeer, Cave of Font-de-Gaume, France, 35, illus., 36

Reinforced concrete (ferro-concrete), 711, 712; definition, 798

Reinhard & Hofmeister (architects), 713 Reja (ra'-kha) (grille), 560, 562, illus., 539; definition, 798; Mexico, 619; Seville cathedral, 560, illus., 559

Relief, n, 14, 20-21; Achaemenian use of, 100; Aegean, hi, 114; Arp, Hans, 777 fn.; Assyrian, 94; Aztec use, 416; bas, 11, 798; Cambodia, 369; central type church, 527-28; Chaldean, 97; China, 2x2, 215, 217, 220, 222, 385; coins, Greek, 155; copper, illus., 81; definition, 798; Donatello, 450; enameled, 97 fn.; Ghiberti’s use, 451, 452; Gill, Eric, use of, 773; Gothic use, 344; Goujon, Jean, use, 605; Greek art, 133; Han, 215; high, 798; Hindu use, 200, 203; hollow, 798; intaglio, 798; Japan- ese use, 396; Knossos, 108, illus., 107; lac- quer, 396; leather, 560; Louvre, 599; low, 798; “Ludovisi Throne,” 137-38, illus., 136; masks, African, 403; Maya, 234, 235, 409, 410, 41 1 ; Megtrovii’s use, 773; Mixtec use, 415; Nicholson, Ben, 777 fn.; nineteenth- century use, 668; Ninlchursag temple, illus., 81; pictorial (Hellenistic), 162; Pisano’s use, 434, 435 5 plateresque, 556; Quito, 627; Renaissance use, 434 , 435 , 436 , 443 , 445 , 45 °, 451, 452, 454; Roman use of, 181, 188, 190, illus., 183; St. Peter’s, 526; sarcophagi, 268; Spanish use, 559, 560; Sumerian, 93-94, 96; Tiahuanaco, 244; Versailles, 602; Weyden, Rogier van der, 539 Religious faith, weakening of, 663 Reliquary, 333, 358-59 (Ulus) ; definition, 798 Rembrandt van Rijn (rSm'brant vkn-rin') (1606-1669), 576-81, 584; Anatomy Lesson, The, 576; Christ Healing the Sick, 580-81, illus., 579; Elizabeth Bas, 576; light and dark, use of, 576, 577; Man in a Gold Helmet, 580, illus., 578; Night Watch, 576-77; Old Lady, 576; Portrait of an Old Woman, 580; religious thought, 579; Self-Portrait, 580; Supper at Emmaus, 578-79, illus., 578; Three Trees (etching), 581, Ulus,, 580; Young Girl at an Open Half-Door, 577 (illus.)

Remington, Frederick (1861-1909), 687 Renaissance art: American Indian, 651-60; Americas, 616 ff.; architecture, 332, 433-67, 516; Baroque, 525-30; bibliography, 467, 518- 19, S25> 553-54; books, 522-24; ceiling, 717 fn.; ceramics, 522; classical culture, revival of, 429, 436, 438, 439, 447, 451, 466; colonization, 428, 429; divisions, 429 fn.; Dutch art, 574-84; English American, 642-50; English art, 585- 95; exploration, 428, 429; Flemish art, 531-47; Florentine painting, 468-500; France, 596- 613; freedom of thought, 429; French Ameri- can, 638-42; German art, 548-54; Gothic in- fluence on, 334; individual and his world, dis- covery and enjoyment of, 429; Italy, 429-530; meaning of, 429; metalwork, 521; Mexico, 618-21; northern Italian painting, 500-19; ornament, 181; painting, 468-519; Palladian

839

form, 588, 590; plateresque, 619; pyramidal grouping, 492, 498, 500, 507; Russia, 6x3-15; scientific knowledge, 428, 429, 525-26; sculp- ture, 433-67, 516; Sienese painting, 468-500; Spain, 554-74; textiles, 522; tradition value,

725 .

Renoir, Pierre Auguste (ru-nwa:r', pie:r'6- gust') (1841-1919), 681, 723; At the Moulin de la Galette, 682; human figure, interest in, 682-83; Luncheon of the Boating Party, 682-83, illus., 683;

Repouss6 (ru-poo-sa/), 23, 115, 190, 330, illus., 89, 117, 190, 244, 420; definition, 798 Reredos (rer'dSs), 620 Restoration, England, 585 Resurrection of Christ (Piero della Francesca), fresco, 485, illus., 483

Retable (re-ta'b’l) (altar screen), 557 (illus), 559, 560, 573; Cuzco, 624; definition, 798; Lima, 622; Mexico, 618 Retablos (paintings), 634, 636, 700 Revere, Paul (1735-181S), silver creamer, 646 (illus)

Reverse of a coin or medal, definition, 798 Reynolds, Sir Joshua (1723-1792), 590, 593-94;

influence in America, 648-49 Rhages (ra'-jez) bowls, 307-08, 310, illus., 307 Rhodes, Aegean island, 156, map, 121 Rib, illus., 317, 324, 3365 337 , 345 . 3545 defini- tion, 798

Ribbed vaulting, 324, 336, 337, 338, 340 Ribera, Jusepe de (re-ba'-ra, hoo-sa'-pa) (1588-1652), 563; Vel&squez, influence on, 568 Richardson, Henry Hobson (1838-1886), 666- 68; Marshall Field Wholesale House, Chicago, 667-68, illus., 665

Rigaud, Hyacinthe (re-g6:', e-il-sSt') (1659- 1743), 610

Rijks Museum, Amsterdam, Pantry Door (P. de Hooch), 581 (illus), 582 Rinceau (ra-s6:'), 181, 440, 556, 560, illus., 182 Rio de Janeiro (re'oo da zhu-naro), Brazil, 717; ABI building, 718-19, illus,, 718; Ministry of Education and Health, 718, illus,, 7x9 Rivera, Diego (re-va'-ra, dya'-ga) (1886- ), 755 ) 756, 757; Earth and the Elements (fresco), 757 (illus); Flower Festival, 758, illus., 759; Sugar Cane, 758 (illus)

Robbia, Luca della (ro :b'-bya, loo:-ka dSl'-la) (1400-1482), 433, 453 - 54 ; Virgin Adoring the Infant Jesus, illus., 452

Roberto, Marcelo and Milton, ABI building, Rio de Janeiro, 718-19, illus., 7x8 Robie House, Chicago (Wright), 10, 707-08, ilhis., 706

Rockefeller Center, 10, 714, illus., 713 Rococo (ro-ko'kb), 602-03, illus., 602; Brazil, 630-31, 632; definition, 798; Fragonard, 610; Houdon, 605, 606; paintings, 606; Russian use, 614; sculptural phase, 606 Rodchenko, Alexander (1891- ), 735 Rodin, Auguste (r6-de', 6-giist') (1840-1917), 771

Rodrfguez (ro-dre'gas) , Lorenzo, 620 Roman Catholic Church: Canada, 638, 639; France, 597; German revolt, 548; Goya, 572; Latin America, 697; Middle Ages, 321; Papal

INDEX

840

court, 457; Reformation, effects on, ^525; religious paintings, 579; Renaissance influ- ence, 531, 534; Renaissance, opposition to, 429-30; seventeenth century, 525; Spain, 554, 572, 573; thirteenth century, 333~34, 34&

Romanesque art, 312-31; architecture, 314-27, 331; bibliography, 331-32; England, 353, 354; France, 320-25, 331, illus., 338, 340; Italy, 314-20, 331, illus., 338, 340; ivory-carving, 328-31; metalwork, 328-31; Norway, 326 {illus,}, 327; painting, 327-28; sculpture, 314-27; textiles, 328-31

Romanticism, 663, 665, 674-75; chart, 722; France, 649; Latin America, 698, 699. See also Delacroix; Gdricault

Rome and Roman art, 168-92; administration, 172, 173; apartment houses, 183; aqueducts, 175, 180, illus., 174; Ara Pads, 180-81, illus., 182, 183; Arch of Constantine, 180; Arch of Titus, 178, 180-82, illus., 181; architecture, 172, 173-85; Augustan age, 186, 187, 189, 191; barbarians, 250, 312-13, 314; Barberini palace, 530; Baroque style, 526-27; basilica, 177-78; baths, 178, 179 (illus.), 180, 192, 665; bibli- ography, 192; cameo-cutting, 191; Cancelleria, 457; Caracalla baths, 179 (illus), 180; cata- combs, 266; child portraiture, 186-87, illus., 186; Christian church, 249; church remodeling, 252 fn., 253; classical and medieval sites, map, 7.72; Colosseum or Flavian amphitheater, 178-79, illus., 180; Coionna palace, 528; column of Trajan,. 182; commemorative monuments, 180; conquests, 157, 172; Con- stantine, 249; Corinthian order, 158; domestic architecture, 182-84, illus., 188, 189; Domi- tian, palace of, 183; empire, map, 195; Farnese palace, 457, 459. Ulus., 458; Forum, 176-77, 185; gardens and parks, 182; glass, 189-90, 191; Greek art, 171-72; Hellenism, 17 1, 172; Imperial, 172; maps, 172, 195, 431; Maxentius (Constantine), basilica of, 178 (illus)] metal- work, 189-90; murals, 187-89, 192; ornament, use of, 180-82, 191; painting, 187-89, 192; Pantheon, 176, 179, illus., 176, 177; popula- tion (200 A J>.}, 173; portrait sculpture, 172; pottery, 189-90, 190-91; provincial system, 312; realism, 190, 192; Renaissance painting, chart, 517; St. John Lateran, 319, 526; St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, 253 (illus)] St. Peter’s (old), illus., 251; San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, 526-27; San Clemente, diag., 338; Sant’ Ignazio, 528, illus., 527; Santa Maria della Pace, 526-27; Santa Maria della Vittoria, 529 (illus) ; Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 252-53, ilhis., 252; Santa Pudenziana, 266; sculpture, 185-87; Temple of Fortuna Virilis, 175 (illus), 176; triumphal arches, 665; Villa Papa Giulio, 169, illus., 168, 169. See also Doria Gallery; Lateran Museum; St. Peter’s cathedral; Terme Museum ; Vatican Romney, George (1734-1802), 594 fn.

Roofs: American colonial use, 644; atrium, Roman, 184; basilica, 178, 253, 315; Brazilian use, 7x8; cantilevering, 708; China, 212, 213; crest, 798, illus., 232, 233; curved, 213 fn.; domestic architecture (20th cent.), 717; Egypt, 71; English use, 353, 354, 587, 588;

Flemish use, 534; French, 598; French Canadian, 639; German use of, 548; Gothic use, 340; Hindu use, 201, 363, 365; Japanese use, 225, 388; Louvre, 599 (illus)] Maya use, 233-34; mission churches, 633 ; Muhammadan, 291; Norway, 326; Oud, J. J. P., use of, 710; overhanging, 708; Robie house, 708, illus., 706; Romanesque use, 315, 316, 323; Rome, 174; Russian use, 278, 6x4; Sassanian Persian, 299; Spain, 323, 355; twentieth-century use, 720; Wright, F. L., 708, 709. See also Domes; Pediment; Vaults and vaulting Rosario dos Pretos (ho-za/re-o doos pra'toos) (J.

Periara Arouca), Ouro Preto, 632, illus., 631 Rose window, 342, 346, illus., 333, 348, 349, 350; definition, 798

Rosellino, Antonio (ro-zg:l-le'-n6, an-t5'-ne-o) (1427-1478), 454 fn- Rosette motif, 295, illus., 97 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-1882), 672 fn. Rouault, Georges (roo-6', zhorzh') (1871- ), 732, 737 fn. _

Rouen cathedral (rwa', roo-a'), 352, illus., 349 Round arch, 342, illus., 9 Rousseau, Henri (roo-so', a-re') (1844-1910), 730-31; Jungle, The, 730-3 r, illus., 730 Rousseau, Theodore (rod-so', ta-o-do.-r') (1812- 1867), 676 fn.

Row of Houses, Hook of Holland, 710, illus., 708 Royal Academy, London, 648-49 Royal Irish Academy, Dublin, Ardagh chalice, 330 (illus)

Royal Mosque (Masjid-i-shah) of Isfahan, 303-04, illus., 302, 303

Rubens (roo'-bens), Peter Paul (1577-1640), 545; complementary colors, juxtaposition of, 676; Kermess (Village Dance), 545, illus., 546; Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus, 545, illus., 544; tapestry designs, 546 fn.; uneven quality of pictures, 545 fn.

Rublev, Andrei (roob-ly&ff, an-dray) (Russian painter), 282-83; icon-painting, 6x5 Rucellai (roo-ch£:l-la:'£) palace (Florence), 439 Rude, Frangois (riid', fra-swa') (1784-1855), 771 Rugendas, Johann Moritz (ru'ggn-das, yo'han mo'ritz), 699

Rugs. See Carpets and rugs Ruisdael, Jacob van (rSys'-dal, ya'kop v&n) i 628?~ i 682), 583-84, 676; Swamp, 583 ilhis), 584 Ruskin, John (1819-1900), 672 fn.

Russia and Russian art, 275-84, 613-15; archi- tecture, 277-80, 6x3-14; art objective, 284; autocratic court, 613; bell towers, 277; bibli- ography, 284, 6x5; bulbous dome, 277, 278, 279, 280; Byzantine influence, 276, 277, 279- 82; church plans, 277-80, illus., 274; climate, 276; edict of 1650, 279; fresco, medieval, 6 15; geography, 276; icons, see that heading; map, 276; metalwork, 284; Mongol invasion, 276-78, 281, 282; Moscow, 6x3; painting, 281-84, 615, 735; people, 275; religion, 275; trade routes, 276, 277; Western influence, 6x3, 614, 615 Russolo, Luigi (rus-s5'lo, lwe'je) (1885- ), 736 fn.

Rusticated stone, definition, 798, illus., 438, 458, 665

INDEX

Ryder, Albert P. (1847-1917), 690, 692; Moonlit Cow, 692, illus., 691

Saarinen, Eliel (sari-nen', S'-li-gl), 7x3 Sabogal, Jose (sa-bo-gal', ho-sa') (1888- ), 762, 763; Vardyoc of Chincheros, 762 (illus.) Sacsahuaman (Inca city), 419, map, 231 Safavids (su-fa'-weds) (1502-1736), 302 Sahure (sa-hoo-ra'), pyramid of, 51, 66, illus., 52, S3

St. Andrew, Kiev, 614

St. Basil the Great (bd'sll, ba'-zil) (icon), 281-82, illus. , 283

St. Basil’s cathedral, Moscow, 279, 614 St. Bavon’s church, Ghent, altarpiece, 534-37, illus., 536

St. Christopher (Diirer), 550 (illus.)

Saint Cuthbert’s Gospels, 327, illus., 328 St. Denis cathedral (se-du-ne'), 360 St. Dmitri (dmet'-rey), Vladimir, church of, 277-78, illus., 277; plan, illus., 274 St. Etienne (se-ta-tySn'), 336. See Abbaye-aux- Hommes

St. Etienne, Chalons-sur-Mame, pinnacle, illus., 346

St. Francis (P. de Mena), 559, illus., 558 Saint Francis Receiving the Stigmata (Caspicara), 628

St. Front, Perigueux (se-fro', pa-re-g^'), 320 St. Gall (se-g&lO, monastery of, 328; plan, 315 Saint-Gaudens, Augustus (1848-1907), 771;

Adams Memorial, 771; Lincoln, 771 Sainte-Genevieve (Pantheon), Paris, 665 SI. George (Donatello), 445-47, illus., 447 Sainte Gudule (set gii-dul'), pulpit, Brussels, S4S

St. Ignatius Carried into Paradise (Andrea del Pozzo), 52S, illus., 527

St. James Square, No. 20, London, dining-room (R. Adam), 591, illus., 593 St. Jerome in His Study (Diirer), 550 (illus.)

St. John Lateran, Rome, 3x9, 526 St. John the Baptist, Yaroslav, 279, illus., 280; plan, illus., 274

St. John the Divine, New York City, 786 St. Louis, Mo., French influences, in vicinity of, 640

St. Mark’s, Florence, Italy, Coronation of the Virgin (Fra Angelico), 486, illus., 484 St. Mark’s, Venice, Italy, 265; vaulting, 262 St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, London, 589-90, illus., 591

St. Mary-le-Bow, London, 589, illus., 591 St. Michael, Hildesheim, Germany, 301, 330 in. St. Michael’s, Charleston, 646, illus., 644 St. Paul’s cathedral, London, 588-89, illus., 588 St. Paul’s chapel, New York, 646 St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, Rome, 253 (illus.), 319, illus., 318; baldaccbino detail, 435, illus.,

St. Peter (Berruguete), 559, illus., 558 Saint Peter (m&mfsl and gold plaque), 271 (illus.) St. Peter (Moissac), 322 (illus.)

St. Peter’s basilica (old), Rome, illus., 251 Saint Peter’s cathedral, Rome, 459-62; archi- tects, 460 fn.; baldacchino, 526; Baroque in- fluence, 526; basilica plan, 460; cornices, 461 ;

841

colonnades, 526; dome, 526; Episcopal chair of St. Peter’s (Bernini), 529, illus., 528; facade, 461, illus., 460; front view, illus., 460; nave, 526, illus., 459; papal tombs of Bernini, 527; plans of Bramante and Michelangelo, 460 (diag.), 461, 462; vaulting, 462; view from the west, illus., 461

St. Petersburg (now Leningrad), 6x3, 614 St. Pierre, Angouleme (se-pyS:r', a-goo-lS :m'), France, 320, 322, illus., 323 St. Remi chalice (se-ru-me'), 358, 359 St. Thomas the Apostle, Church of, Chicago, Jesus Counsels the Daughters of Jerusalem (Faggi), 773, illus., 771

St. Trophime, Arles (se-tr6-fem', ar'j), France, 320-21, 322, illus., 321

Salamanca (sa-la-man'-ka) University, portal and detail, 555 (illus.), 556 Saids, Antonio (d. 1867), 698 Saids, Ramdn, 699

Salisbury cathedral, 353, illus., 352; plan, diag., 339

Salon d’Automne (1905), 732 Saltcellar (B. Cellini), illus., 521 Salvador cathedral, Baia, 630, 632 Samarkand, 302

Samothrace (sdm'-6-thras), Aegean island, map , X2i; Nike, 161 (illus.)

Samurai ( military barons), 387, 395

San Bias, Cuzco, canopied pulpit, 624 (illus)

San Brizio chapel, 485

San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane (sdn ka:r'-15 al'IS: kwatt'tro fon-ta:'-nS:), Rome, 526-27 San Clemente (san-kl£ :-mSn'-tS) , Rome, plan, diag., 338

San Francesco (s&n-fran-chSs-ko), Arezzo, Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon (Piero della Francesca), 482-84 (illus.), 482 San Francesco, Assisi (iis-se'-ze), 472-73 San Francesco, Rimini, ( — — re'-me-ne), 438 San Francisco, La Paz, 624 San Francisco, Quito, 626 (illus.)', nave, 626, illus., 627

San Francisco Acatepec, near Puebla, 620 San Francisco Museum of Art, Vardyoc of Chin- cheros (Sabogal), 762 (illus.)

San Francisco Xavier, Tepozotldn, 620 (ilhcs.)‘, altar of San Josd, illus., 621 San Gabriel (mission), California, 633 San Gallo (san-gad'-lo), Antonio (1482-1546), 456 fn.*, Farnese palace, illus., 458 San Giorgio Maggiore, Venice, Last Supper (Tintoretto), 512 (illus.)

San Giovanni Evangelista, Parma. See Parma cathedral

San lldefonso pueblo, 750 San Isidoro (Le6n), 323

San Lorenzo ( 16-r6n'-tso) : Florence, new

sacristy, 464, illus., 462, 463; Potosi, detail of the facade, 624-25, illus., 617 San Marco. See Saint Mark

San Michele ( ml-kS'-lS:), cathedral of, at

Lucca, 319 (illus.)

San Miniate ( me-fiya'-to), Florence, 319,

Ulus., 318

San Petronio (- — - pS:t-r6'-ny6), Bologna, marble panel, illus., 444

INDEX

842

San Sebastian (Cuzco), 623-24, 625, 626 San Sebastian and Santa Prisca, Taxco, 620 San Vincente, Toledo, Assumption, 565 fn.

San Vitale ( ve-ta:'- 16 :), Ravenna, 258,

illus ., 256, 258; capitals, Ulus., 264; mosaics, 266

San Xavier del Bac (near Tucson), 633

San Zeno Altarpiece ( zS'-no) (Mantegna),

502 fn.

Sanchi (sa-che): gates, 200; stupa, 198-200 (illus.), 202

Sand painting, 658, 659 Sanitation, 105, 597

Sant’ Ambrogio (san-tam-bro-.'-jo), Milan, 314-17, 336, 337, illus., 316; nave, 315, illus., 317; plan, diag., 338; vault, 3x6; vaulting, illus., 340

Sant’ Andrea (san-tan-dre'-a) (Mantua), 438 Sant’ Antonio, Padua, 450; altar, 450, illus., 448 Sant’ Apollinare in Classe (san-ta-po-le-na :'-r£ : enklais'sS), Ravenna, 253-54, 256,319 , illus., 254, 255; mosaics, 266; vaulting, Ulus:, 340 Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo ( nw 5 '-vo:), Ra-

venna, 256-57, ilhis., 257 Sant’ Ignazio (san-teg-na :t'-syo :), Rome, 528, illus., 527

Santa Croce (sa ‘.n'ta kro :'-ch£ :) , Florence: Pazzi chapel, 438 , illus,, 441; Tomb of Carlo Mar- suppini, 454 (illus.), 455 / _ : V

Santa Maria de Mur (— — ma-re'-a da moor), Catalonia, 327 fn.

Santa Maria del Fiore (san'-ta ma-re'-a dSl f!-6;'-rS:) (St. Mary of the Flower). See Florence cathedral

Santa Maria della Carmine, Florence, Masaccio fresco, 476-77, illus., 476

Santa Maria della Pace (- d£:l-la

pa:'-chS:), Rome, 526-27

Santa Maria della Salute (- — — sS,-

loo-.'-tS:)^ Venice, 527, illus., 526

Santa Maria della Vittoria ( — — dSl'-la

vet-t 5 '-re-a), Rome, Santa Theresa, (Eernini)j 529 (illus)

Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan, Last Supper (da Vinci), 491-92, ilhis., 490

Santa Maria in Cosmedin ( en kos'~

mS:-den), Rome, 252-53, 526, illus., 252

Santa Maria Maddalena dei Pazzi (

mad-da-la'-na de'-e pat'-se), Florence, Cruci- fixion (Perugino), 496-97, illus., 497

Santa Maria Novella ( no-v£l'-la),

Florence, Masaccio fresco, 477 (illus.)

Santa Pudenziana ( poo-de:n-tse-a':-na),

Rome, mosaics, 266

Santa Sophia ( so-fe'-ii), Constantinople, 10,

258-63, illus., 259, 261, 262; arches, 304; domes, 304; Muhammadan use of, 286 Santa Sophia, Kiev, 277 Santa Sophia, Novgorod, 277 Santa Teresa, Ecstasy of ( te:-r£:'-za) (Ber-

nini), 529 (illus)

Santiago, Miguel de (c. 1620-1680), 635 Santiago, Chile, Casa de la Moneda, 665 Santiago de Compostela (siin-te-a go di korn-po- sta'la), 323 : v .

Santo, 634; Cristo, 634, illus., 635 Santo Domingo, 628, 641

Santo Tome, Toledo, Spain, Burial of the Count of Or gaz (El Greco), 565-66, illus., 565 Sao Francisco, Ouro Preto, 632, illus., 630 Sao Paolo, Brazil, 717, 766 Saqqara (sa-ka'-ra), map, 43; Mastaba of Ti, 47 Sarcophagus, 268, 454; Etruscan, 169, Ulus., 168, 170

Sarcophagus from Ceruetri, illus., 168 Sarcophagus of Theodore, Ravenna, 268-69. illus., 269

Sargent, John Singer (1856-1925), 690; Wynd- ham Sisters, The, 690, illus., 689 Sargon I (sar'-g 5 n), 82

Sargon II: Median bringing horses to, illus., 93, palace of, 91-92, illus., go, 91; relief, 94, Ulus., 93

Sarmatian metalwork, 101-102 Sarto, Andrea del (an-drS'-a de:l sa:r'-to) (1486-1531), 500; Madonna of the Harpies, 500 (illus)

Sassanian Persian art, 198, 298-301; architec- ture, 299; bibliography, 31 1; metalwork, 300-01; sculpture, 299-300; silverworlc, 300- ox ; textiles, 300-01

Sassetta (sa-sat'-ta) (1392-1450), 472; Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty, 472 (illus)-, Mystic Marriage of St. Francis, 472 (illus)

Savoye house, Poisey-sur-Seine, F ranee, 7 1 1 , illus., 709

Saying Grace (Chardin), 6x1 (illus) Scandinavian daggers (Neolithic), illus., 39 Scenes from Genesis (Maitani), facade of the Orvieto cathedral, illus., 437 Schlesinger-Mayer building, Chicago, 668 Schliemann, Heinrich (schle;'-man, hin'-rikh) (1822-90), 104

Schocken Department Store (sho'-kun), Stutt- gart, 711, tllus., 716

School of Athens (Raphael), 499, illus., 498 Science, role of, 662

Scopas (skS'-pus) (Greek sculptor), 159 Screens, Japanese use, 388. 389, 391, 393, 396 Scrovegni chapel (skro-v£: -nye), 473 fn. Sculpture: abstract, 776-77; Achaemenian, 99- 100; Aegean, 113-14; African Negro, 399-403, map, 400; Argentina, 636; Assyria, 91-95, 96; Aztec, 4x5-17; Baroque, 528-30, 624; Bolivia, 636; Brahmanical, 262-73; Buddha, 201-02; carving, ix-12; cathedrals (13th cent.), 348, 350; ceramic, 15, 786; China, 215-18, 222; Christian, early, 268, 269; clay, 12; collabora- tion, 628; color, Egyptian use of, 53, 54, 70; color, Greek use of, 124, 128, 143; drawings, 20; Egypt, 44-54? Si- 54 , 5 6 , 58-71; eyes, rock crystals used for, 53; form, 11-14; France, 605-06, 6n, 771, 772, 773, 777; function, xx; Gothic, 334 - 55 ', Greece, 121, 128-45, 155“ S< 5 , 158-64, 166; Hindu, 362-73; Hispanic

America, 633-36; in relief, 11, 14, 1 13-14; in-the-round, 11-14, 51, 86, 113, 133, 135, 169, 255; definition, 798; India, 198-203, 206; intaglio, xi, 14; Japan, 224-2S, 390; Latin America, 636-37; materials, 11, 14; Maya, 233-36, 409-T0; Mexican, 618-21; Mixtec, 413-14; modeling, 12; Muhammadan, 295, 296-97; Muhammadan-Hindu, 369-73; na- ture, 14; nineteenth-century, 771; nonobjec-

INDEX

843

tive, 776-77; nonrepresentational, 776; Persia, 299-300; plane interpretation, 777 fn.; pre- historic, 37, illus., 32; Quito, 626; relief, 11, 14, 113-14; Renaissance, 433-67; Romanesque, 314-27; Rome, 185-87; Sassanian, 299-300; Spain, 555-60; Sumeria, 83-88; Tiahuanaco, 240, 243-44, 245; Toltec, 238-39, 415-17; tools, 11, 12; twentieth-century, 770-81; volume interpretation, 777 fn.; Zapotec, 413- 14. See also Architecture; Ceramics Scuola di San Marco (skwS'-la de san ma:r'-k6), Venice, 528

Scuola di San Rocco, 512 fn.

Scythians (people): map, 195; metalwork, 101-02

Seacoast Mayan Village (fresco), 412 (Ulus.) Seals: Chinese use of, 219 , illus., 218; Cretan, hi, 114; Greek, 155; intaglio, 796; Sumerian, 87-88 (illus.), 89 Seated Scribe, 54 (illus)

Seated Woman (Maillol), 774-75, illus., 776 Segonzac, Andre de (su-go-zak', a-dra'-du) (1884- ), 732 fn.

Self-Portrait (Rembrandt), 580 Selinus, Sicily, temple, illus., 123 Semites (people), 82, 89, 90, 98 Serape, 701

Serdab (sir-dab') (cellar), 46 Serpent: Maya use, 235; Toltec use, 238 Servant of Bocks, The (Manet), 678, illus., 677 Sesshu (sSs-shoo:) (Zen priest), 391 Seti I (sS'-te) (Egyptian king), 58; Temple of, wall decorations, 69 (illus.) ; Tomb of, diag., 58 Settignano. See Desiderio da Settignano Seurat, Georges (s0-ra/, zh6rzh') (1859-1891), 683-84, 728, 729, 767; Grande Jattc, La, 684 (illus.)

“Seven, The/’ 752, 753 “ Seven Cities of Cibola” (legend), 632 Severini, Gino (1883- ), 736 fn.; An Bal Tabarin, 736

Seville, Spain, 554; Town Hall, 555

Seville cathedral, 355; reja, 560, illus., 559;

retable of, 557 (illus.)

Sevres porcelain (sS:vr'), 603-04 Sgraffito (stamping), 16, 701; definition, 798 Shadow, Hindu method of producing, 204 Shaft, definition, 798, illus., 125 Shagall, Marc. See Chagall Shah-nama (sha-na'-ma) (Book of Kings), 302 Shang dynasty (sha:ng'), 207-09; food vessel, 211 (illus)', jades, 222; wine vessels, 21 1, illus., 210, 211 Shapur I, 299

Sharaku (sha-rii-koo), Toshusai, 394; portrait by, illus., 394

Sheeler, Charles (1883- ), 745 fn., 747; cubism, 747; futurism, 747; Totems in Steel, 747 (illus)

Sheep, symbol in Christian art, 254 Sheikh el-Beled (shaykh ul-bS'-lid), 54 Sheraton, Thomas (c. 1751-1806), 592 Shield cover, Kiowa, Oklahoma, 657 (illus) Shikar a (shik'-u-ru) (tower), 363, illus., 364, 366; definition, 798 Shinto (shin- to :) (religion), 223, 224 Ship, symbol in Christian art, 254

Shirlaw, Walter (1838-1909), 687 fn.

Shirpurla. See Lagash

Shiva (she'-vu), cult of, 196, 362; cult statues of, 367; Kailasa temple, 365, 367; Nataraja, Lord of the Dance, 367, illus., 368 Shooting of the Rebels of May 3, 1808 (Goya), 571-72, illus., 572 Shrimp Girl (Hogarth), 593 Shunsho (shoon-sh5:) (Japanese painter), 394 Sicily, 320, map, 431

Siddhartha, Prince, 196-97. See also Gautama Buddha

Siena (syS'-nu), Italy: Aphrodite, 469 \ Ponte Gaia, 443; geographical situation. 469; map, 431; painting, 468-500, chart, 517; Palazzo Pubbhco, 472 fn., iron grille, 441, illus., 440 Siena cathedral: altarpiece, 469; Annunciation (S Martini), 470-71, illus., 471; Herod's Feast (Donatello), bronze relief on baptismal font, 450, illus., 448; Majestd (Duccio), 469, illus., 468; Three Marys at the Tomb (Duccio), 469-70, illus., 470

Signac, Paul (sen-yak', pdl') (1863- ), 683 fn. Signorelli, Luca (seh-yo-rcl'-le, loo':-kii) (1441- 1523), 480, 485; Last Judgment, illus., 485 Silk, 22, Byzantine use of, 272, illus., 273; Hindu use, 376; Persian use, 300; Sassanian, 300, illus., 301

Silver : American colonial use, 646; Hindu use of, 375; Mixtec use, 414; Navaho use, 658, 659; Potosi, 624; Renaissance, 521; Roman use, 190 (illus); Sassanian, 300-01; Spanish use, 560, 562; Zapotec use of, 414. See also Bos- coreale Treasure; Hildesheim treasure Silver-point, 20

Simultaneity: definition, 734 fn.; Picasso, 734 fn. Sin (nature god), 82 Singing Girl. See Maize God Sinkiang, map, 207. See also Turkestan. Siphnian (slf'-nl-un) Treasury, Delphi: cornice fragment, illus., 129; quiet movement with conventional details, 162 Siphnos, map, 121

Siqueiros, Alfaro (se-kay'-ros, al-fa'-ro:) (1898- ), 755> 756, 766; Berdicio, influence on, 763; Proletarian Victim, 756 (illus)

Sisley, Alfred (sez-la, al-frSd') (1840-1899), 681 Sistine (sls'-ten) Chapel, Vatican, Rome, 494-96, illus., 494; ceiling, 493 (illus), 494 (illus), 495 (illus), 496; Creation of Adam, 496, illus., 495; Decorative Nude, illus., 493; Jeremiah, 494-95 ■

Sistine Madonna (Raphael), 498 Sites: in architecture, 9; in modern domestic architecture, 707; in sculpture, 11 Sitjes (sit'-khgs), house at, 561, illus., 562 Sityatki ware (slk-yat'-ki), 424, illus., 422 Skyscrapers: evolution of, 713-15; sheathing material, 713, 714, 715; Sullivan, Louis, 668, 713 :

Sleeping Venus (Giorgione), 508 Sloan, John (1871- ), 694 fn.; Backyards, Greenwich Village, illus., 694 Smibert, John (1688-1751), 647-48 Smiling Angel, of Reims, 351 (illus)

Smith College Museum of Art, Northampton, Mass., Table, La (Picasso), illus., 732

INDEX

844

Snake Goddess (Cretan), 113 (Ulus.)

Society of Independent Artists, 744 Socrates (s 5 k'-ru-tez), 156 Soffit, definition, 798 Solids, geometric, and buildings based upon them, illus., 8 Solitaries (19th cent.), 743 Solutrean age (so-loo'-tre-un), 31; flints, Ulus., 30

Song of Roland, 314 Sophocles (s 5 f'-u-klez), 120 Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (Carbrera), 635 Soubise (s 5 o-be:z). See Hotel Soubise South America: art, 239-46, 621-32; climate, 239; culture, 239; French art influence, modern, 743; geography, 239; map, 231; native arts, 701; landscape painting, 700; painting, 760-67. See also individual countries Space: Adams, Robert, use of, 591; African Negro use, 400, 401; as an element of design, 383-84; Baldovinetti’s use, 492; Bellini’s (Giovanni), use, 306; Bernini, 529; Bosch, van, use of, 542; Botticelli’s use, 488; Brunelleschi, 437; Carpaccio’s use, 505; Calder, Alexander, 779; central type church, 527-28; Cezanne, 723-24, 725, 726; Chardin’s use, 61 1; Chartres cathedral, 336, 344; chiaroscuro, 515; Chinese use, 383-84; circular, 300; constructivists, 7x0; Corot, 676; Cranach’s use, 552; Daumier’s use, 678; Delacroix’s use, 676; design in, 728; domestic architecture (twentieth-century), 7x7; Donatello, 446, 447; Duccio, 470; Egyptian use, 48; figure, realization of, 160-61; Florence cathedral, 437; fourth dimension, 778, 779; Fra Angelico, 484; Francesca, P. Della, 482, 483; futurists, 736; Gainsborough, 594; GelI6e, Claude, 609; Ghiberti’s use, 451; Giorgione, 508, 509; Giotto, 515; Goya, 570-71; Greco, El, use of, 567; Greek use, 125; Gropius, use of, 7x1-12; Hindu use, 200, 203; Hooch, P. de, 582; interiors, modern, 717; Japanese use, 394; Le Corbusier’s use, 711; Le Nain, Louis, 608; Lipchitz, 777; Lorenzetti, 472; Man- tegna, 504; Masaccio’s use, 477 ; mass piercing, 777 , 778; Melanesian use, 407; Michelangelo, 463, 464, 529; Mies van der Rohe, use of, 712; mobiles, 778; Moore, H. S., 776—77; movement in, 450; Notre Dame de Paris, 349; out-of- door, 506; Perugino, 497; Poussin, 608, 723; Raphael’s use, 496, 498; Reims cathedral, 351; relationships, 767; Rembrandt, 578, 580; Renoir’s use, 683; Rivera’s use, 758; Rodin’s use, 771; Roman engineering, problem of, 174-75, 179; Rubens’ use of, 545; Russian use, 278; Sabogal’s use, 762; St. Peter’s, Rome, 462, 464, 526; Santa Sophia, 259; Seurat’s use, 684; Signorelli, 485; statues in the round, 160; surrealism, 740; three-dimensional design, 443; Tintoretto’s use, 512, 530, 723; Toulouse- Lautrec, 680; Uccello, illus., 478; Van Eyck’s use, 539; Velasquez, 568-69; Vinci, Leonardo da, 491; Wright, F. L., 702-08, 709; Zadkine’s use, 777. See also Architecture; Sculpture Spain and Spanish art, 554-74; architecture, 555-60; Baroque, 556, 573, 618; bibliography, 573-74; Bourbons, 696; ceramics, 560-62; colonies, 663, 696, 697; colonization, 616, 617;

Dutch, 574; expeditions, 632; exploration, 616; foreign conquerors, 554; foreign influences, 554, 563; geography, 554; Gothic architecture, 353; Gothic style, 355; Inquisition, 534; Jesuits, 525; late-Gothic style, 563; leatherwork, 560- 62; metalwork, 560-62; missionaries, 6x8; Moors, 323; Muhammadan art, 285, 295; national temperament, 573; New Orleans, 640 fn.; painting, 562-73, 622; prehistoric painting, 29, 34-35, 37, 38; Romanesque, 323, 331; Romanesque painting, 328; sculpture, 555-66; woodwork, 560-62; trade, 554, 616. See also Latin American art Spalato, Palace of Diocletian, 183 fn.

Spandrel, 263, 3x9, illus., 263; definition, 798 Sparta, 156, map, 121 Spectrum, 6, 7

Speicher, Eugene Edward (1883- ), 744 Speyer cathedral (spl'-ur) (in Ger. shpi'ur), 325 Sphere, 775, illus., 8, 17 Spilimbergo, Lino Eneas (1896- ), 765 Spinola, Marquis of, 567 fn.

Spires: Abbaye-aux-Hommes (St. Etienne), 324; American colonial use, 646; Burgos cathedral, 355 ; Chartres, 335, 342; English use, 589, illus., 591; Reims, 350; Salisbury cathedral, 353, illus., 352; Seville cathedral, 355; Ypres Cloth Hall, 534, illus., 533 Splayed opening, definition, 798, illus., 348, 349 Squinch, 260 (illus.), 304, 314, illus., 9, 290; definition, 798

Stag, symbol in Christian art, 254 Stag at Sharkey's, A (Bellows), 696, illus., 695 Stained glass, 339, 341, 346-48, 682 Stalactite 290 (illus.), 292, 294; definition, 798; tile, illus., 303

Standard (Sumerian), 84 (illus.)

Stations of the Cross (Faggi), 773 , illus., 771 Stave Church of Gol, illus., 326 Steel construction, 10, illus., 9; use in sky- scrapers, 713 , 715 Steel pens, 20

Steen, Jan (stan', yan) (1626-1679), 581 fn. Stele: Buddhist, illus., 215; definition, 798;

Maya, 234; Urnammu, 86, 89, illus., 85 Steuben glass, 786

Stevedores Resting (Guido), 765, illus., 764 Still life: C6zanne, 724, 726; Chardin’s use, 6x1, illus., 612; Dutch, 583; Matisse, 732, illus., 731; O’Keeffe, 746; Picasso, 734; United States folk art, 692 Still Life (Chardin), 6x1, illus, 612 Still Life: Apples on a Pink Tablecloth (Matisse), 732, illus., 731

Still Life: “ Vive la . . (Picasso), 734, illus., 733 Stilted arch or dome, illus., 277; definition, 798-99

Stirrup handle, 241, 245 Stone age: Mongoloid nomads, 230; Persia, ex- cavation, 98 fn.

Stone carving and stone work, 11, 775; Byzan- tine, 262-63, 268-70; Early Christian, 262-63, 268-70; Egypt, 55-56 Stone implements, 30 Stone mosaic, illus., 401; definition, 799 Stonecutting, 771 Stonehenge ruins, 40, illus., 41

INDEX

Stoneware:, definition, 15, 799; Mesolithic, 39- 40; Neolithic, 39-40;

Stradivartus family, 525 Streamlining, 776, 783-84, Ulus., 782, 785 Stringcourse, 126, 128, 337, 338, 354, 436, 439, illus., 345, 548; definition, 799 Strozzi (strSt'-se) palace, Florence, 439 fn. Structure, 2, 4; definition of, 3 Stuart, Gilbert (1755-1828), 649; Mrs, Richard Yates, 649 (illus.)

Stucco: definition, 799; Egypt, 72; French- American use, 640, 641; Japanese use of, 389; Maya use, 234; Muhammadan, 292, 293; ornament, 292, illus., 288; Persia, 299; Renaissance use, 4.59; Roman use, 174, 182; Russian use, 278; Spanish use, 560, 561 Stupa (stoo'-pu) (mound), 198-201, 206; Boro- budur, 203, illus., 203, 204; China, 2x4-15; definition, 799; Japan, 227 Stuttgart (shtobt'-gart), Germany, Schocken Department Store, 711, illus., 716 Style (mode), 2; nineteenth-century meaning, 666; sculpture, 770, 774 Stylobate, 125, 126, illus., 125; definition, 799 Sudan, 399, map, 400 Sufi mystics, 302

Sugar Cane (Rivera), fresco, 758 (illus.)

Suiko period (soo-l-ko), 224 fn.; Bodhisattvas, 227; Maitreya, 227-28, illus., 225; sculpture, 228 '

Sullivan, Louis (1856-1924), 668, 713 ; Trans- portation Building, World’s Columbian Ex- position, Chicago (1893), 668, illus., 667 Sully, Thomas (1783-1872), 685 Sumatra, map, 207

Sumerian art and culture, 81-89; architecture, 83-88; bibliography, 103; gold, use of, 88-89; gold cup, 88-89 (illus.)', gold helmet, 89 (illus.)} harp, 89, illus., 88; map, 43; metal- work, 88-89; physical description, 81-82; religion, 82-83, 89; sculpture, 86-88; seals, 87-88 (illus.) ; stone carving, 87-88 Sumerians (su-me'-ri-uns) (people), 82-83, 86, 89

Summer Landscape (Davis), 747, illus., 748 Sung dynasty (soong), 208, 378-79; art, 378-86; Ch'en Jung. Wave and Dragon, illus., 247; Chiin flower pot, 385 (illus.)} painting, 380, illus., 380, 382; porcelain, 384-85; porcelain bowl, illus., 383

Superimposed order, illus., 180, 465; definition, 799

Supper at Emmaus (Rembrandt), 578-79, illus., 578

Surrealism, 738-41, chart, 722; United States, 747-48. See also Dali; Miro Surrealite, 739

Surrender of Breda (Velasquez), 567-68 Swamp (Ruisdael), 583 (illus.), 584 Sweden, modern arts, 784-85 Swing (Fragonard), 6x0 Switzerland: dadaism, 738; surrealism, 740 Swordmaking, Japan, 395, 397 Symbolism : American Indian use, 651 ; Buddhist, 200; Chartres cathedral, 346; China, 214, 2x7, 22x, 222, 380-81; early Christian art, 254, 256; Hindu art, 372; jade-carving, 221, 222;

845

Japan, 229; Martini, 471; Michelangelo, 464; peacock, 269

Syndicate of Painters and Sculptors (Mexico), 756,758

Synthetic cubism, 734, 735, 747 Syracuse in Sicily: coins, 153, illus., 154; map, 43i

Table, La (la tab!) (Picasso), illus., 732

Table, Louis XIV, illus., 603

Table with a figure support (Congo), 40 (illus.)

Tablinmi (wing), 184, diag., 185

Taboo (tapu), 404

Taffeta (textile), 296 fn.

Tahmasp, Shah (1524-1576), 305 Taj Mahall (tazh'-m&-hal'), Agra, 370-73, 377, illus., 371

Tak-i-Bostan (tak-e-bus-tan') (villa), 299

Talavera ware, 620, 700

Tale of Genji (Murasaki), 387, 391

Tamerlane. See Timur

Tanagra (tan'-u-gru) , map, 121

Tanagra Figurines, 163 (illus.)

T’ang dynasty (ta :ng') , 208, 209, 213; archaic forms, 217; Buddhism, 220; Japan, 224, 226, 228, 229; Kuan- Yin, 220, illus., 2x6; paint- ing, 220, 222; porcelain, 384, 385; sculpture, ■ 222 '

Tanganyika, lake, Africa, map, 400 Tanguy, Yves (tan-ge, Sv) (1900- ), 738 fn. Taoists (tou'-Ist), 208, 209 Taos, communal house, 633 Tapa, from Samoa, 405 (illus.), 406 Tapestry and tapestry weaving : Flemish, 540 fn., 546-47; Florentine use, 439; France, 598, 601, 603-05, 6x1 ; Gothic use, 359; Nazca, 242 (illus.)} Spanish use, 561 Tarbell, Edmund C. (1862-1938), 688, 693 fn. ; Tartars. See Mongols

Tate Gallery, London, Landscape with Cypress Trees (Van Gogh), 727 Taurida palace, portico, 614 Taut, Bruno (tout, broo/no), on modern house, quoted, 710

Tea bowls, 396 (illus.)

Tea ceremony, 396, 397 Technical terms, glossary of, 793-99 Teitoku (tl-to-koo), Matsunaga, 379 Tel Aviv, Palestine, 720 Tell Halaf, 90, map, 43 Tello. See Lagash

Tempera, 17, 18, 19, 469, 480., .48 r, 486, 5x0, illus., 468-72, 484, 764; definition, 799 Tempest (Giorgione), 508 Temple; Assyrian, 191 ; Aztec, 415-16; Buddhist, see Monasteries; cave, 365, 367 (illus.)} circu- lar, 176; Doric, 130; Egypt, 58-71, 71-76; Greek temples, see that heading} Hindu, 365, 367 (illus.)} Japan, 224 ff.; mortuary, 58-71, 71-76; Pantheon, Rome, 176, 179, 665, illus., 176, 177; Parthenon, Athens, 125-27, 155, illus., xi8; peripteral, 123; Toltec, 425 Temple B at Selinus, Sicily, plan, Ulus., 123 Temple frescoes (Crete) , 108-09, illus. , 108 Temple of Amun, Karnak, 66, 67, illus., 6i, 64 Temple of Amun, Luxor, 67, illus., 65, 66 Temple of Angkor Wat, 369, illus., 370, 371

INDEX

Temple of Aphaia at Aegina: Archer, 135, Ulus., 133 ; eastern, pediment, 135, 136, illus., 133; plan, Ulus., 123

Temple of Apollo, Corinth, 124 Temple of Apollo, near Miletus, Seated Man, illus., 130

Temple of Artemis, at Eleusis, plan, illus., 123 Temple of Artemis (Diana), at Ephesus, 157 Temple of Athena, Athens, Three-bodied Mon- ster, 135

Temple of Athena Nike, 145 (illus.)

Temple of Demeter, at Cnidus, Demeter, 159, illus., 156

Temple of Demeter, Paestum, Italy, 124 Temple of El Castillo, 409, 410, illus., 411 Temple of Erechtheus, Athens, 127-28, 155, illus., 126, 127

Temple of Fortuna Virilis, 175 (illus), 176 Temple of Halebid, near Mysore, 365, illus., 363 Temple of Hatshepsut, 59-61, illus., 59, 60 Temple of Heaven, Peiping, 214, illus., 213 Temple of Heraeum at Olympia, 124 Temple of Horus, Edfu, 62-63, 65, 66, illus., 62,

Temple of Is6 (sun goddess), Japan, 224 fn. Temple of Kailasa, at Elura, 365, 367 Temple of Marduk, Babylon, 97 Temple of Nannar, 86, illus., 85 Temple of Nike Apteros (Wingless Victory) Acropolis, Athens, 128; plan, illus., 123 Temple of Ninkhursag, illus., 81 Temple of Quetzalcoatl/ Teotihuacan, 238-39, illus., 238

Temple of Ramesses II, Abu Simbel, illus., 67 Temple of Ramesses III, Medinet Habu, illus., 68, 69

Temple of Seti I, Abydos, 69 (illus.)

Temple of Vishnu, Khajuraho, 364 (illus.) Temple of Zeus, Olympia: ApoUo, western pedi- ment, illus., 137 ; figure from the eastern pedi- ment, illus., 136; western pediment, 136-37, illus., 135

Temple of the Cross, Palenque, 234, illus., 233 Temple of the Olympian Zeus, Athens, 158, plan, illus., 123

Temple of the Sun (Toltec), 238 Temple of the Warriors, Chichen It z£, 409, 410, illus., 411; fresco, illus., 412 Temptation of St. Anthony (Bosch), 542, illus., 54i

Temptation of Christ (Ghiberti), 451, illus., 450 Tempyo period (tSm-pyo :) , 224 fn., 228 “Ten, The,” 693-94, 743 Tenants and Landlords: “ After Midnight ” (Daumier), 678 (ilhis.)

Tenayuca, Mexico, map, 231; pyramid temples, 4i5

Tenebrists (shadow-painters), 515, 563 Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City), 618; map, 231; religion, 4x5, 416

Teotihuacan, Toltec city, Mexico, 415; map, 231; Temple of Quetzalcoatl, 238-39, illus., 238

Tepozotl&n, San Francisco Xavier, 620 (illus); altar, ilhis., 621

Ter Borch, Gerard (gSr'-art tSr boorish') (1617- 1681), 581 fn., 582; Concert, The, 582, illus., 581

Terme (National) Museum, Rome: Aphrodite found at Cyrene, 159 (illus); Ara Pads, 180-81 illus., 182, 183; “Ludovisi Throne,” 1 3 7—3 8, illus., 136; Myron, Discobolus, 138-39, illus., 138; Vespasian, illus., 187 Terra cotta: definition, 799; Etruscan use, 169, illus., 168, 169; Greek use, illus., J63; Hou- don’s use, 606; machine arts, 785; nineteenth- century use, 666; Pollaiuolo’s use, 455, illus., 456; Robbia, della, use of, 364, 454, illus., 452; Roman use, illus., 186 Tesserae, 253; definition, 799 Texas, churches and convents, 633 Textiles: brocaded, 522, 793, illus., 523; Byzan- tine, 270-72; Christian, early, 270-72; defini- tion, 799; form, 22; French, 604-05; Gothic, 357-59; Hindu, 374-76; Inca, 420; Japan, 394-96, 397; Mesolithic, 39-40; modern use, 785; Muhammadan, 295-96; Muhammadan- Persian, 306-10; Nazca, 241-42, 245; Neo- lithic, 39-40, 41; Persia, 306-10; pile fabric, 798; Renaissance, 459, 522, illus., 523; Romanesque, 328-31; Sassanian, 300-01; Swedish, 785

Texture, 4, 7-8, illus., 5; reflective power, 7;

sculpture, 14; textile, 22 Tezontle (ta-son'tla), 757 Thayer, Abbot H. (1849-1921), 688 Thebes (thebz), Egypt, 57, 38; Makht, Tomb of, 73-75. Ulus., f 2, 73, 74; maps, 43, 56, 121; Philip of Macedon, 156; Seti I Tomb, diag., 58 Theophanes of Mistra (tM-Sf'-u-n§s), 282 Theophilus (the-6f' -x-lus) (monk), quoted, 328-29 Theotocopuli, Domenico (thl-o'-tQ-kS-poo'-lg, do-mS'-ne-ko:), known as El Greco (1541- 1614), 564-67

Thermae (Roman baths), 178, 179 (illus), 180, 192

Thomson, Tom (1877-1917), 752-53; West Wind, 753 (illus)

Three-bodied Monster, Temple of Athena, Athens, 135

“Three Day Moon” tea bowl (Ninsei), illus., 396

Three-dimensional organization, 401-02 Three Fates, 141-42, illus., 143 Three Marys at the Tomb (Duccio), Siena cathe- dral, 469-70, illus., 470 Three Musicians, The (Picasso), 734 Three Rivers, Canada, Ursuline convent, 639-40, Ulus., 639

Three Trees (Rembrandt), 581, illus., 580 Three Women (Leger), 735 Throne of Maximian, 269, illus., 270 Thrust, definition, 799

Tiahuanaco (te-a-wa-na'ko), art and culture, 240, 242-45, 624; architecture, 240, 243-44, 245; empire, 418; map, 195, 231; metalwork, 244; Monolithic Gateway, 243-44, illus., 243; pottery, 244; sculpture, 240, 243, 244, 245 Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista (tya'-po-lo, jo-va:n'- nebat-tes'-ta) (1696-1770), 530 Tiglath-Pileser I, quoted, 92 Tigris-Euphrates Valley, 83, 84, 90, 98, map, 43

Tigris River, 82 Tik a l, 232, map, 231

INDEX 847

Tiles: Achaemenian use of, 100, 102; Assyria, 96, 214; Babylonian, 214, illus., 97; Chinese use of, 212, 213, 214, 215; Egypt, 77; enameled, 100; Etruscan, 165; glazing, 77; Japanese use of, 225, 389; McGraw-Hill building, 7x4; machine arts, 785; Mexican use, 6x9, 620; Muhammadan-Persian use, 303 (illus.); Muhammadan use of, 294; nineteenth-century use, 666; Persian use, 305; Portuguese, 630; Puebla, 700; Russian use, 279; Sevillian, 628; South American use, 622; Spanish, 561, 622, 628: squinches, 260; tin, 639; twentieth-cen- tury use, 7x8 Timur (Tamerlane), 302 Timurids (1396-1500), 302 “Tin-tiles,” 639

Ting porcelain bowl (Sung dynasty), 385, illus.,

383

Tintoretto, Jacopo Robusti (ten-to-rSt'to ya/~ co-po: ro-boos'-te) (1518-1594), 512-13, 530; color ^masses, 515; Greco, El, influence on, 564; Last Supper, 512 (illus.) ; Miracle of St. Mark, 512-13, illus., 5 13; work method, si2fn. Tipis, 656, 657

Tiryns (ti'-rinz) , Greece: citadel, no (illus);

frieze, illus., in; map, 121 Titian (tish'-un) (1477-1576), 509-12; Bacchus and Ariadne, 510; Charles V patronage, 563; color-masses, 515; complementary colors, iuxtaposition of, 6 j 6 ;Concert, 509; Education of Cupid, 5 1 1, illus., 5x0; Entombment, 51 1 (illus); figure, concept of, 5x5; Greco, El, influence on, 564; Man with the Glove, The, 510-11, illus., 509; Michelangelo, 515; Paul III (pope) and His Grandsons, 511; Portrait of an Unknown Man, 510, illus., 509; textile painting, 522 fn.

Titicaca, lake, 240, 242, map, 231 Tivoli: Villa d’Este, gardens of, illus., 458 Tlalmanalco (convent), 619 Tlingit baskets (tllng'-git), 656, illus., 655 Tlingit Indians, map, 231 Tobacco pipe in the form of a wolf (Hopewell), illus., 425

Tokonama (alcove), 388-89 Tokugawa period (t 5 -koo-ga-wa), 387, 393 Toledo, Sp'ain: Greco, El, view of, 564, 566, illus., 567; San Vicente Assumption, 565 fn.; Santo Tome, Burial of the Count of Orgaz (El Greco), 565-66, illus., 565 Toledo cathedral: St. Francis (de Mena), 559, illus., 558; St. Peter (Berruguete), from Hie choir stalls, 559, illus., 558 Toledo Museum, Catherine Howard! (Holbein), 551 (illus.)

Tolsa, Manuel (Spanish architect), 621 Toltec (tSl'tSk), art and culture, 238-39, 415- 17; architecture, 238-39, 4x5-17; art attain- ment, 617; bibliography, 417; map, 195; pyramid temples, 425; sculpture, 238-39, 4x5-

i7' ■ •

Tomb. In addition to the entries that follow, see Beehive tomb; Burial customs; Mastaba; Mausoleum; Mixtec; Nikko; Pyramid; Tri- clinium; Zapotec

Tomb at Orchomenos, ceiling fragment, illus., 111

Tomb-mosque of Sultan Kait Bey, Cairo, 290- 91, illus., 287, 290, 291 Tomb of Alexander VII, Rome, 529 Tomb of Atreus, Mycenae, 112, illus., no Tomb of Beni Hassan, illus., 72 Tomb of Carlo Marsuppini (Desiderio da Settignano), 454 (illus), 455 Tomb of Galla Placidia, Good Shepherd mosaic, 266

Tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici (Michelangelo), 463-64, illus., 463

Tomb of Ilaria del Carretto (Jacopo della Quercia), Lucca cathedral, 443, illus., 444 Tomb of Nakht, 73-75, illus., 72, 73, 74 Tomb of Santa Teresa (Bernini), 529 Tomb of Seti I, diag., 58 Tomb of Tutankhamun, 59 fn., 76-77, 78, 79 Tomb of the Haterii, 181 Tomb of the Leopards, Corneto, 170-71, illus., 170

Tomb of the Triclinium, Flute-Player, 171 (illus) Tonald pottery, 701

Tools: China, 221; grinding; 39; Hopewell use, 424; Maya, 232, 234, 410; Neolithic, 40, 41; Polynesian, 404, 406; polishing, 39; prehis- toric, 30-33; pueblo, 422; sculpture, 11, 12; stone, 39 (illus); wrought-iron making, 441 Toreador Scene (fresco), illus., 109 Torres-Garcia, Joaquin (to'rrSs gar-se'ii, hwa- ken') (1874- ), 765

Torres-Mendez, Ram6n (to'rrSs m&i'dSs, rra- monO, 699

Totem poles, 651, 652, 653, 659, illus., 653; British Columbia, 652, illus., 653; Melanesia, 406

Totems in Steel (Sheeler), 747 (ii^ws.) Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri de (too-l6o:z' 16 -trek, a-rS' du) (1864-1901), 680; At the Moulin Rouge, 680, illus., 681

Tour de Beurre (Butter Tower) (toor' du bff :r') , Ulus., 349

Tower: bell, 633; Brazil, 632; California mis- sions, 633; Chartres, 337, 339, 342; chateau medieval, 598; Cloth Hall, Ypres, 534, illus., 533; donjon, 795; English use, 589-90, illus., 591; fortress-churches, 618; French Canadian nse, 640; Gloucester cathedral, illus., 353; Gothic use of, 354, diags., 338, 339; Herreran use, 556; Hindu use, 364, 365, 369; Mexican use, 6x9, illus., 618, 620; nave, see that heading; Peru, 623; Pisa, 318-19; Puebla cathedral, illus., 6x8; Quito, illus., 626; Romanesque, 323, 326, illus., 327; Russia, 277; Salisbury cathedral, 339, 353, illus., 352; Salvador cathedral, 632; Shikara, 363; Town Hall, Brussels, 534, illus., 532. See also Campanile; Pagoda; Ziggurat

Town Hall, Brussels, 534, Ulus., 532 Town Hall, Vincenza, 465 (illus)

Town planning, 157, 409, 719-20 Towns, age of, 332-33, 334 Tracery, 338, 354, 442, illus., 333, 348, 349, 353, 354, 356, 372, 586 ; definition, 799 Trade guilds, 313. See also Guilds Transcendentalism, 768

Transept, 250, illus., 25 1;. Chartres, 336, 337, 339, 344; definition, 799 illus., 338; Gloucester

INDEX

cathedral, Ulus., 353; Gothic use of, diags., 33 &> 339

Transfiguration, Church of the, Kizhi, Lake Onega, 278 (illus.), plan, Ulus., 274 Transfiguration, mosaic, Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna, 256, Ulus., 255 Transmigration of souls, 196

Transportation, 788

Transportation Building, World’s Columbian

Exposition (1893), 668, Ulus., 667 Treasury Department, Section of Fine Arts,

749-50

Treasury of Atreus (tomb), Mycenae, 112, Ulus.,

no

Treasury of the Athenians, at Delphi, plan, illus.,

Treasury of the Siphnians, Delphi, horses from a frieze, 135, illus., 134 Trecento (trd:-chen'-to), 429, 433, 472, 476 Tree of Jesse (window), 346 Tres Riches Eeures (tra/ resh z0:r'), 356, 534, illus., 358

Tresguerras, Francisco Eduardo (trSs-gS'rras, friin-ses'kS g-dwar'do), 621 Tribute Money (Masaccio), fresco, 476-77, illus.,

.476

Triclinium tomb, Corneto, Flute Flayer, 171 (illus.)

Trifqrium (tri-fo 're-urn), 338, 341, 359, illus., 337, 340 , 345 ; definition, 799 Triglyph, 126, illus., 118, 125; definition, 124, 799 Trimurti (tre-moor'-te) (Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva), 196, 367 (illus.)

Trinity groups (Japan), 228 Trinity with the Virgin, St. John, and Donors (Masaccio) , Ulus., 477 Triptych, 542, 727, illus., 541 Triumphal arch, 180, 438 Troubadours, 3x4

Troy, Asiatic Turkey: map, 121; Schliemann’s excavations, 104; siege of, 1 19 Troyon, Constant (trwa-yo', ko-sta') (1810- 1865), 676 fn.

Trumbull, John (1756-1843), 686 Tsarskoe Selo, 614 Ts’in dynasty (tsen'), 208, 209 Ts’ing dynasty (tsengO, 208 Tsiren, Awa (tsrr'Sh, a'wa) , 750 Tudor age, 586; mansions, 586-87, illus., 587 Tugendhat House (tooAgunt-hat), garden facade, Brno, Czechoslovakia, 7x2-13, illus..

711

Tulunids (868-904), 286 Tung Yuan (doong' yu-a:m), Landscape, 382-83, illus., 380

Tunics (Greek). See Chiton Turin, Italy, Baroque art, 526 Turkestan (Sinkiang), 209, map, 207; monastery caves, 220; wall painting, 219, 220 Turner, Joseph Mallord William (1775-1851), 671; Fighting TemSraire, 671, illus., 673; Norham: Sunrise, 671-72; Rain, Steam and Speed, 671

Turquoise, Navaho use of, 658 Tuscany, Etruscans, 168-69 Tutankhamun (toot-ank-a'-mSn), tomb of, 59 fn., 76-77, 78-79; effigy, illus., 79

Twachtman, John H. (1853-1902), 692 fn., 693 fn.

Twentieth-century art, 704-88; architecture, 706-21; bibliography, 720-21, 741-43, 750-51, 754, 769, 780-81, 788-89; European painting, important movements, chart, 722; inter- nationalism, 704; machine arts, 782-89; nation- alism, 704; painting, 473, 721-43; sculpture, 770-81; skyscrapers, 713-15; social forces, 704. See also Industrial Revolution Two Natures of Man (Barnard), 771 Tympanum, 321, 342, 343, illus., 312, 321, 343;

definition, 799 Type faces, 787

Uccello, Paolo (oot-chel'lo pa/o- 16 :) (1397- 1475), 477-80; Battle Piece, 477, 479, illus., 478 Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Adoration of the Magi (da Vinci), 4qi (illus.); Adoration of the Shepherds (Ghirlandaio), 540 fn.; Allegory (Giovanni Bellini), 506-07, illus., 506; Annun- ciation (S. Martini), 470, illus., 471; Birth of Venus (Botticelli) , 487-88, illus., 427 ; Calumny (Botticelli), 488, illus., 489; Heracles Slaying the Hydra (A. Pollaiuolo), 481 (illus.); Madonna and Child with Two Angels (Fra Filippo Lippi), 486 (illus .) ; Madonna of the Harpies (Andrea del Sarto), 500 (illus.)

Uji (06- jf). See Byodo-in Ukiyo-e (oo-kl-yo-S) (pictures of this fleeting world), 393

Ultrabaroque, 556-57; Hispanic American, 633, 636; Mexico, 620; Peru, 623. See also Churri- gueresque

Umbrella, as a symbol, 199, 214, 2x6 United States: architecture (19th cent.), 666-69; architecture (20th cent.), 707-09, 7x3—17; Armory Show (1913), 743j 744; bibliography, 696; Civil War, 666, 687; classicism, 666; European products, insistence on, 687-88; Federal Art Project, 749-80; French modem art influence, 743, 744, 747, 748; Gilded Age, 667, 687; Impressionism, 692-93; machine art, 784; nationalism, 666, 686; North, 685; Orozco murals, 759-60; painting (nineteenth- century), 685-96; painting (twentieth-cen- tury), 743-51, 768; primitives, 692; regional painting, 748-49; Rivera’s influence in, 758; sculpture, 770, 771, 773, 775, 777; Treasury Department, Section of Fine Arts, 749-50; South, 685; Surrealism, 747-48; taste (nine- teenth-century), 687-88; twentieth-century, 704-05, 743-44. See also American art; American Indian art; English American art; French American art

University Museum, Philadelphia: Benin King, portrait of a, illus., 402; Corn Stele, from Piedras Negras, 235 (illus.); gold cup, illus., 89; harp, Sumerian, 89, illus., 88; Head of an Orator’s Staff (Maori), illus., 407; Stele of Urnammu, 86, 89, illus., 85; Zapotec effigy ums, illus., 414

University Prints, Newton, Massachusetts, 142 Unknown Roman, 185-86 (illus.)

Upanishads (oo-p&n'l-sh§.dz') (treatises), 194? 195-96

Uprising, The (Daumier), 678, illus., 679

INDEX

i

i

Ur (oor', ur'), Sumeria, 82, map, 43; Nixikursag temple, 83-84, illus., 81; Ziggurat at, 84-86, Ulus., 83

Uraeus (u-re'-ws), 77, 79, Ulus., 60, 79; definition, 799

Urasian animal art, 102 fn.

Urbino (oor-be'-no:), Italy: carving from the Ducal palace, illus., 440; doorway from the Ducal palace, 440, illus., 445; map, 431 Urnammu (oor-nam'-moo), Stele of, 86, 89, illus., 85

Ursuline convent, Three Rivers, Canada, 639-40, illus., 639

Urteaga, Mario (oor-ta-a'ga, ma'ryo) (1875- ), 762 fn.

Uruguay: abstractionism, 765; painting, 765 Uspenski cathedral (oos-p&t'skey), Moscow, iconostasis, illus., 275 Utah, 421

Utamaro (oo-ta-ma-rd) (Japanese painter), 394 Uxmal (oosh-mal'), nunnery, 409, 4x0 (illus.)

Valencia, Spain, 561

Valley of Mexico (Velasco), 700, illus., 699 Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, 59, map, 56 Valley of the Two Rivers. See Assyrian art; Babylon; Chaldean art; Persian art; Sumerian art; Tigris-Euphrates Value of a color, definition, 799 Van Dyck, Anthony (v£n dlk, an'to-nl) (1599— 1641), 545-46, 592 , , ,

Van Eyck, Hubert (van ik, hoo-burt) (c.

1370-1426), 534-39, 546 fn.

Van Eyck, Jan (yEn) (c. 1385-1440), 534-39; Ghent altarpiece, or Adoration of the Lamb, 534-37, 538, 540, illus., 536; Giovanni Arnolfini and Eis Wife, 539, illus., 538; Madonna of Chancellor 537-39, illus., 535; tapestry designs, 546 fn.

Van Gogh. See Gogh Vanderlyn, John (1776-1852), 686 Vaphio Cups (v&f'f-o), 115-16, illus., 117; map, 121

Vardyoc of Chincher os (Sabogal), 762 (illus.) Varuna (god of right and justice), 194 Vase Painting, Greece, illus., 164 VEsquez, Gregorio (1638-1711), 635 Vatican, Rome: Amphora (Exekias), 150-52, illus., 150; Apoxyomenos, illus., x6i; Disputd (Raphael), 498-99, illus., 499; Emperor Augustus, illus., 185; frescoes, 4Q&; Joshua Roll, 266, illus., 267; Laocoim, 162; School of Athens (Raphael), 499, illus., 498. See also Sistine Chapel

Vaults and vaulting, illus., 174, 176, 179, 324, 336, 337, 345, 4595 Abbaye-aux-Hommes, 341, illus., 340; Amiens, 354; barrel, 174 (illus,), T75, 299, 315, 316, 320, 324; Byzantine use, 314-15; coffer, 794; cross, 175; crown, 794; definition, 799; domical, 336 (diag.) ; English, 353, 354; fan, 354, illus., 355; French, 598; Germany, 325; Gothic, 618, 623, illus., 340; groin, 175, 315, illus., 174; half-barrel but- tressing, 324; Hallenkirchen, 355; Hindu, 201; lierne, 354, 588; nave, 324, 325, see also that heading; Persian, 314; ribbed, 294, 315-16, 324, 338, 340; Roman, 180, 191; Romanesque,

849

314-16, 318, 324; roof, 338; Santa Sophia, 260; Sassanian, 299; thrust, 799; Winchester cathedral, illus., 354. See also Buttress; Center; Roof Vedas (va'-duz) , 194 Vedder, Elihu (1836-1923), 688 Vedic art, 193-206 Veii (ve'yl), Apollo of, 169 (illus.)

Velasco, Jos6 Marfa (1840-1912), 700; Valley of Mexico, 700, illus., 699

Velasquez, Diego (va-lath'-kSth, dya'-go va-las-

) (1599-1660), 567-70, 573; Innocent X,

570, illus., 568; Maids of Honor, 568-70, illus., 569; Surrender of Breda, 567-68 Velde, Henri van der, 669 Velvet, brocaded (Italian 15th cent.), 522, illus.,

523 ■

Vendramini palace (v8:n-dra-me -ne), Venice, 442, illus., 443 Venetian blinds, 214

Veneziano, Domenico (vS:nS:-ts/a:'n6 do-mS'- nl-kS:) (1400-1461), 480 Venezuela, modern painting, 763 Venice, Italy, 5x6; art, 500-01, 509, 5x2, 513; Baroque art, 526; Ca d’Oro, 442 (Musi); Church of the Frari, 507; Colleoni, 455-56, illus., 457; color, love of, 501; geographical location, 500; map, 431; palaces, 441-42, illus., 442, 443; patriotism, 500; politics, 500; religious life, 500; St. Mark’s, 262, 265; San Giorgio Maggiore, 5x2; Santa Maria della Salute, 527, illus., 526; Scuola di San Marco, 528; Vendramini palace, 442, illus., 443 Vermeer, Jan (vur-mari, yo-hEn'-us) (1632- 1675), 581 fn., 582-83; Young Woman at a Casement, 582-83, illus., 582 Vernaculars, 314 Verona. See Liberale da Verona Veronese, Paolo (v£:-ro-na'zS:, pE:'-&-l6:) (1528- 1588), 513, 530; Feast in the House of Levi, 513, illus., 515

Verrocchio, Andrea del (vS:r-r8k'-ky6, an-drS'-a dS:l) (1435-1488), 433, 455? 480; Colleoni, 455-56, illus., 457; Vinci, Leonardo da, ap- prentice to, 490

Versailles (vSr-say') : architectural design, 602; furniture, 602; Galerie des Glaces, 602, illus., 601; gardens, 601 Vespasian, portrait of, 187 (illus.)

Vettii (vat'-te-e), House of, frescoes, 266 Vicenza (ve-ch8n'-tsa), Italy, map , 431; Town Hall, 465 (illus.); Villa Rotonda, 465, illus., 466 .,■■■■

Victoria and Albert Museum, London: Ardebil carpet, illus., 308; Bromley-le-Bow, state room from, 588, illus., 587; ceremonial dipper (Hindu), 375 (illus.), 376; Coptic textile, 271, illus., 272; Gospel Cover (Romanesque), 329- 30, illus., 329; Mosque lamp, 295, ulus,, 296; pulpit of Kait Bey, illus., 290 Vienna, Austria, Karl Marx Hof, 719-20, illus., ■ 716

Vierge Doree (vySrzh' d6-ra') (Amiens), 350 View of Toledo (to-la'-do) (El Greco), 564, 566, illus., 567 ■ "

Viga (beam), 633

Villa Aldobrandini, Frascati, 528

INDEX

850

Villa d’Este, gardens of the, Tivoli, Ulus., 458 Villa Item (vel'-la e'-tgm), near Pompeii, 188, illus., 189

Villa of Hadrian, 183

Villa of Livia, Pompeii, frescoes from, 188 (illus.)

Villa Papa Giulio, Rome; Apollo of Veii, 169 (illus.)) Sarcophagus from Cervetri, illus., 168 Villa Rotonda, Vicenza, 465, illus., 466 Vincent of Beauvais (bo-vS'), 334, 344, 345 Vinci, Leonardo da (le:-6-na:r'do da ven'-che) (1432-1519), 489-93; 429, 430; Adoration of Ike Magi, 491 (illus.)) Chateau of Blois, stair- way legend, 396; France, 597; Last Supper,

491- 92, illus., 490; Madonna and Child, 490, illus., 491; Madonna of the Rocks, 492 (illtis.)) Madonna with Saint Anne, 432; Mona Lisa,

492- 93, illus., 487 ; oil technique, 315; Picasso, compared with, 733

Vine, symbol, in Christian art, 254, 266 Viracocha (ve-rah-ko'cha), 243 Virgin Adoring the Infant Jesus (Luca della Robbia), illus., 432

Virgin Mary. .See Mary, Mother of Christ Virgin Surrounded by Angels and a Donor (Cuzco), 636, illus., 637 Virginia, University of, library, 665 Vishnu (vlsh'-noo), cult of, 196, 362; Krishna, 374; temple (Khajuraho), 364 ( ulus .); temple, typical, 363, diag., 366

Visit of the Queen of Sheba to Ring Solomon (Piero della Francesca), 482-84, illus., 482 Visvakarma (vlsh-va-karma) , 197 Vitruvius (vf-troor'-vf-us), treatise on archi- tecture, 464

Vladimir I (vla-de'-mer) (about 956-1015), 275 Vladimir, Russia, 276 (map)) Church of the Intercession, 277-78; St. Dmitri, church of, 277-78, illus., 274, 277

Vladimir Madonna (icon), 281, 282-83, Ulus.,

Vlaminck, Maurice de (vla-mek', md-res' du) (1876- ), 732-33 . .

Voltaire (v61-t£:r') (Houdon), 606, illtis., 604 Volume, 4, 8, illus., 5; abstract, 711; definition, 8; geometric, 709, illus., 17; interpretation, 777 fn,; pottery, 16; rectangular, 710, 711; statue in the round, 160; twentieth-century use, 720. See also Architecture; Sculpture Volute, illus., 125, 126, 149; definition, 799 Votive Figures, found on the Acropolis, 132-33, illus., 132

Vouet, Simon (vwS', se-mo') (1390-1649), 607 Voussoir (voo-swar'), 10, illus., 9; definition, 799 Vuillard, Jean Edouard (vii-ya:r', ad-wa:r') (1868-1940), 730 fn.

Wainscot: Bromley room, 388, illus., 587; defini- tion, 799; English, 388, illus., 387 Wall arcade. See Blind arcade Wall hangings. See Carpets; Tapestry Wallace Collection, London, 603 fn., 610;

Laughing Cavalier (Hals), 575-76, illus., 375 Wang Wei (wa:ng wa) (Chinese writer), on poet-painter, quoted, 219 Warm color, definition, 799 Warp, 22; definition, 790

Washington Arch, New York, 665 Water: Chinese rules for painting of, 381; Korin’s painting of, 393

Water color painting, 17; Chinese-ink, 18, 19; gouache, 18, 19; Marin, J,, 746; Homer, W., 691; transparent, 18; Turner’s use, 671-72. See also Gouache

Watteau, Antoine (va-to', a-twa') (1684-1721), 610; complementary colors, juxtaposition of, 676; Embarkation for the Island of Cythera, 610 (illus.)

Waves at Matsushima (ma-tsoo-shi-ma) (Korin), screen, 393, illus., 392

Wax-lost process, 12. See also Cire-perdue process Weakness Into Strength (advertising design, H. Bayer), illus., 787

Weale, W. H. J., on Bruges, quoted, 532 Weaving (A. Pisano) illus., 441 Weaving and weaving process, 22; Chilkat blankets, 654, 656; Christian, early, 271; Flemish, 546-47; Latin America, 701; Mu- hammadan, 295-96; Navaho, 658, 659; weft (woof), 22. See also Tapestry, Textiles Weber, Max (1881- ), 745 fn.

Wedding Dance (Bruegel the Elder), 544-45, illus., 343

Weft or woof (woof) (filling), 22; definition, 799

Wei (wa) dynasty, 208, 218; Buddhist votive stele, 217, illus., 215; Japan, 228, 229; Mai- treya, 2x7, illus., 216; sculpture, 222 Weir, J. Alden (1832-1919), 692 fn., 693 fn. West, Benjamin (1738-1820), 648-49, 686 West Wind (Thomson), 733 (illus.)

Westminster Abbey, London: Chapel of Henry VII, 334, illus., 355; Chapter House, illus., 356

Westminster Hall, London, hammer-beam ceiling, illus., 586

Westphalia, Peace of (1648), 534, 574 Weyden, Rogier van der (rS'gSr v2.n d8r vl'dun) (c. 1400-1464), 539-40; Descent from the Cross, 539-40, illus., 337; tapestry designs, 546 fn.

Wheel (rose) window, 342, 346, illus., 333, 348, 349/350; definition, 798 When the Morning Stars Sang Together (Blake), 672, illus., 671

Whipple House, Ipswich, Massachusetts, 644 Whistler, James Abbott McNeill (1834-1903), 688-90; Portrait of Miss Alexander, 689 (illus.) White Plumes (Matisse), 731-32 White Torso (Archipenko), 777 Whitehall Palace, banqueting hall, London, 388, illus., 389

Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City, Backyards, Greenwich Village (Sloan). illus., 694

Why Hide Them? (Goya), "572, illus., 573 Wild Bull Hunt, 68-69, wms., 68 Willendorf Statuette, 37 Williamsburg, Virginia, restoration, 643 fn. Willow, in Chinese painting, 383, 384 Willow-leaf knives, 32, illus., 30 Wilson, Richard (17x4-1782), 594 Winchester cathedral, 354 (illus.)

Windows, use of. See Fenestration

INDEX

Windsor chapel of St. George, 354 Wine vessel (Shang dynasty), illus., 2x0 Winged griffin motif, 300 (illus.)

Winged ibex vase handle, iox (illus.)

Winged Lion, from the tomb of Hsiao Hsiu, 216 illus., 217

Wingless Victory. See Temple of Nike Apteros Wolff, Jacob, The Elder, German architect, Peller House, 548-49, illus., 549 Woman in White (Picasso), 734 Woman with a Fan , The (Picasso), 734 Woman with Loaves (Picasso), 734 Wood blocks, Japanese use of, 393-94 Wood-carving, 12; abstraction, 775; American Indian, 651-53; Canada, 752; Cuzco, 624; Egypt, 76-80; Fatimid, 293 (illus.)) Flemish, 546-47; French-Canadian, 639; German, 773; Gothic, 357-59; Spain, 560-62; tracery, illus., 586

Woodcut, 20-21, 787; Blake, 672; definition, 799; Diirer, 550 (illus.)) Holbein, 551, illus., 552; Japan, illus., 394, 395; Renaissance books, 524 (illus.)) Sabogal, 762 Woodlands, Philadelphia, 645 (illus.)

Woof (weft), definition, 799 Woolly Rhinoceros, drawing at Font-de-Gaume, 35, illus., 34

Work in the Fields, from the: Mastaba of Ti, Saqqara, 46, illus., 47 World soul concept, 195 World’s Columbian Exposition, Chicago (1893), 668; prize painting by popular vote, 693; Transportation building, 668, illus., 667 Wren, Sir Christopher (1632-1723), 588; Hamp- ton Court, addition to, 590; St. Mary-le-Bow, London, 589, illus., 591; St. Paul’s cathedral, London, 588-89, Ulus., 588 Wright, Frank Lloyd (1869- ), 707-09, 713; Falling Water (house). Bear Run, Pennsyl- vania, 708-09, illus., 705; Japan, residence in, 397 fn.; Johnson (S. C.) and Son Adminis- tration Building, Racine, Wisconsin, 709, illus., 707; Larkin Building, Buffalo, New York, 709; Millard house, Los Angeles, 708; organic architecture, quoted on, 708; Robie house, Chicago, 707-08, illus., 706 Writing: Arabic script, 292, 295, 296, 306; Crete, 105; Inca, 419; Kufic, 292, illus., 288; Maya, 234-35, 237, 410; Minoan, 105; Mu- hammadan, 296; Navaho, 658; Neskhi, 292. See also Calligraphy; Cuneiform; Diptych; Hieroglyphic writing

Wrought-iron work, 441. See also New Orleans Wu Tao-Tzu (woo-dou-dzu:) (Chinese painter), 220, 381

Wyant, Alexander (1836-1892), 686 Wyndham Sisters, The (Sargent), 690, illus., 689

Xenophontos monastery (z&i-o-fSn'-tus), Mt. Athos, 264, 267-68, illus., 266, 268; Field, 267-68, illus., 268

Xerxes (zfurk'zez), 99; Hall of One Hundred . Columns, 100

Yamato (ya-ma-to) culture, 223, 224; painting, 39 L 393

Yang E-Shih (yang a.-$h.e) , quoted, 384 Yangtze Kiang (Blue) River, 206, 208, map, 207

Yaroslav (yk-rQ-slaf'), St. John the Baptist, 279, illus., 280

Yellow (Hwang Ho) River, 206, 207, map, 207 Yoga, 197

“Young Englishman.” See Titian — Portrait of an Unknown Man

Young Girl at an Open Half -Door (Rembrandt), 577 (Ulus.)

Young Maize God, illus., 234 Young Man with a Slouch Hat (Hals), 576 Young Woman at a Casement (Vermeer), 582-S3, illus., 582

Youthful David (Andrea del Castagno), 480, illus., 479

Ypres (gpr), Belgium, 532; Cloth Hall, 534, illus., 533

Yuan (yti-a :n) dynasty, 208 Yucatdn, 232, 409, 413, map, 231 Yugoslavia, modern sculpture, 773 Yumedono Kwannon (yoo-m2-do-no), 226, 228, illus., 225

Zadkine, Ossip (zad'-k6n, os'-sep) (1890- ), 777

Zapotec art, 4x3-15; architecture, 413-14; effigy urns, illus., 4x4; goldwork, 414-15; palaces, 425; sculpture, 413-14 Zarathustra (Zoroaster), prophet, 98 Zen Buddhism, 379, 380, 384, 387, 390, 391,

Zeuxis (zQk'sls) (Greek painter), 164 )

Ziggurat (zeg'-goo-r&t) (tower) ; Assyria, qi, 92; Babylon, 97; definition, 799; description, 84- 85, 89; Ur, 84-86, illus., 83 Zoomorph figure, in weaving, 242 Zorach, William (1887- ), 775 Zoroaster (zo'r6-2.s'tur) (Zarathustra), prophet, 98

Zuccone (tsoo-k6:'-nS:) (Donatello), 447, illus., 446

John Askling: Indexer

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