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Auguste Rodin's art *

by
Anthony M. Ludovici

The New English Weekly 18, 1940–41, pp. 258–259


- p. 258 -
The volume of the Phaidon Press Art Books which is devoted to Rodin received brief notice in these columns as long ago as February 1st of last year. It constitutes, by virtue of its 119 photographic reproductions, the most important book on the great French sculptor so far published in this country. The reproductions are first class, large enough to give a satisfying impression of the sculptures, and the full-page additional details of some of the chief works are well executed and very helpful. One might cavil at the publisher's description of these illustrations; but presumably fashions in process-engraving change just as they do in other departments of life.
        "Monochrome Photogravures," in the old days, would have suggested intaglio reproductions on copper-plates produced by an expensive process, three-quarters mechanical, and revealing a grain not unlike that of a mezzotint. Now these plates are certainly not photogravures in this sense. At first sight, I took them to be collotypes, and then, on examining them with a glass, they appeared to be simply "half-tones," produced through the ordinary ruled screen, which, thirty years ago, it would have been confusing to describe as "Monochrome Photogravures."
        No matter what they are, however, they give a most effective and complete impression of Rodin's quality as a sculptor, and provide an excellent source of reference to anyone who has not been able to visit the Musée Rodin in Paris, or any other large collection of Rodin's sculptures. I have rarely seen a series of plates, moreover, from which it was more easy to guess the secret of Rodin's power and of the dramatic realism of his work. I used to see this secret revealed daily when I was in close touch with his sculptures finished and unfinished at Meudon Val Fleury, and I get it again from these Phaidon Press Plates.
        It always struck me that Rodin was in sculpture what a scenic artist of genius might have been expected to become had he settled down to the painting of easel pictures. Let anyone imagine what the transition means — the descent from a tradition of over-emphasis, hyperbole and loudness, required by the art of convincing and being understood at a distance, to the conditions of close intimacy, and he will at once appreciate much that is mysterious in the great sculptor's manner.
        It is certainly significant that Rodin had been not only a sculptor of figures designed to be seen at great heights in public monuments, but also the pupil of men like Barye, Carrier-Belleuse and Van Rasbourg, who were schooled in the technique of work capable of being effective at long range, and who were, at any rate, characterized by their intense vigour.
        Rodin was never tired of repeating that in France Sculpture had been ruined by studio conditions. When once these polished pedestal pieces for drawing-rooms were placed out of doors, it was no winder that they looked "veule" and resembled "carton." Now the power and quivering vitality of Rodin's art seems to me to be the result of a combination of two factors — this early appreciation of the vast difference

        * The Sculptures of Auguste Rodin, 119 Reproductions in Monochrome Photogravure, with a life and review of his work by Sommerville Story, and a Catalogue Raisonné by GEORGES GRAPPE. (Allen and Unwin, 1939. Price 10/6).

- p. 259 -
between studio intimacy and lighting, and the unmerciful light and crudeness of conditions out of doors, plus a native fluency and virtuosity of expression in clay, which can be seen in a bust produced as far back as 1863 (Father Eymard) when Rodin was only 23 years of age, and, in my humble opinion, as good as anything he ever did subsequently.
        Like Proust, moreover, Rodin, was always a student and admirer of France's finest cathedrals. Even if he had had no experience of the requirements for monuments to be seen at a distance out of doors, and had never received instruction at the hands of Barye, Carrier-Belleuse and Van Rasbourg, he would, nevertheless, with his alert mind and keen powers of observation, probably have seen in the Gothic artist's work a sufficient number of hints to make him suspicious of sculpture produced in the close, intimate atmosphere of the studio. The only wonder is that, while he severed himself utterly from the studio as regards his treatment of surfaces, and his interpretation of planes, he never, as Whistler always insisted, was as statuesque as out-of-doors requirements demand. Personally, I should modify this criticism by saying that only rarely was he statuesque.
        His oft repeated remark that sculpture is "une affaire de creux et de bosses" was a constant reminder of the depths to which French sculpture must have sunk before his time, and it was also the key to his manner. But neither his love of the Greeks, nor his study of the Gothic — which did not, I fancy, take him as far as the magnificent sculptures of Naumburg and Nuremburg — saved him from a certain lack of that impressive dignity which can be seen in the sculpture of antiquity and the Renaissance (Bartolomeo Colleoni, for instance!), and which is also peculiarly the requisite of conditions out of doors. In this sense Whistler's criticism was justified. Rodin had seized with remarkable genius on the means of representing quivering life in the open. He had never quite learnt that there was another essential, and that was a certain dignity or loftiness of style — the grand manner, the absence of which is endured better indoors than out, and is more suitable to drawing-room pedestal sculpture than to monumental work.
        Imagine, now, all these factors combining to produce both a taste and a method, and part at least of the extraordinary eloquence, intensity and compelling emphasis of his art becomes clear.
        Mr. Sommerville Story's well documented account of Rodin's life and works gives all the essentials in a remarkably small compass, while his short history of each of the chief works at the beginning of the book, combined with the detailed list at the end, compiled by the Curator of the Musée Rodin, furnishes an authoritative catalogue raisonné for quick reference, which greatly enhances the value of the book.
        One last word. Some of the artists I used to meet at Meudon often questioned the propriety of calling Rodin a sculptor. They insisted on regarding him as a modeleur. Now this, in itself, raises an interesting question. For, to the student of Rodin's works, a disparity must seem to exist between the style of his plasters and bronzes and that of his marbles. The latter are always smoother, bristle less with life, and show a shade less vigour than the former. They retain his quivering vitality as through a veil. This is due to the fact that the marbles are really chiselled interpretations by other artists. They do not come direct from Rodin's own hands. In this sense, therefore, those French artists who claimed that he should be called a modeleur were justified and did Rodin himself more justice.
        A study of the plates in this latest Phaidon Press publication reveals the disparity I speak of, and it is a further merit of this collection that it makes such comparisons possible.

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