ART.
MESTROVIC OR MADAME TUSSAUD ?
THERE seems to be little doubt that the wax figure is, from the aesthetic point of view, extremely nauseating. It was Edmund Burke, I think, who in his inquiry into the nature of beauty, suggested a reason which to some extent accounts for the repulsion we feel at the sight of effigies in wax. His explanation was to the effect that the wax figure, through attempting to reproduce not only the form but also the matter of life (i.e., the pigmentation of the skin, the imitation of real hair, and the glaze on the eyes), approaches so near to actuality in its outward appearance that we expect it to possess also a concomitant life. But we are deceived, deceived yet undeceived in almost the same moment, deceived by our senses and undeceived through our perception. We start to react to life only to discover deadness, a deadness made all the more obvious and disgusting because of its very appear- ance of life. We feel that a deceitful attempt has been made to capture our responses. The stuffed bird, too, because of its deceitful perkiness of attitude and other qualities which recall its counterpart in life gives promise of further lively tricks which are never expressed, and it remains the stiff thing of deadness that it is.
And now we arrive at sculpture. Here, at least, some of the features which took part in the realistic deception have gone. The piece of sculpture is uncoloured, has neither mock whiskers nor glass eyes. Yet we must admit that, although the representation of the matter of life is no longer present, there may still be certain more sensitive souls who are repulsed by the fact that the form itself may be so naturalistic as to blaspheme the sanctity of life. Unless we are prepared to admit this much, by placing out of bounds in the field of Art the wax figure while we still retain sculpture of a purely naturalistic type, we are merely bowing in deference to those of us who have a ready response to colour and matter, and leaving out of consideration altogether the unfortunate ones who possess a sensitive awareness of form. As a logical sequence from Burke's analytical censure of the wax figure, the condemnation of the equally naturalistic rendering of form in sculpture naturally follows.
Although Mestrovic has arrived at this conclusion quite instinctively his work is none the less logical. In many more ways than this his work is the zenith of logical purity of expression. His sculpture is never deceitful nor dishonest in its appeal. It has been said of a famous composer that, when asked what the clarionet was saying in one of his com- positions, he replied, " It is saying—I am a clarionet—I am a clarionet."
So, of Mestrovic's marble one might say that it proclaims always " I am marble," never " I am flesh." It is ever of a form that might have grown from the stone. Similarly wood treated by this sculptor remains convincingly wood— re-created and re-formed, but always wood. Whoever seeks the mere faithful and clever representation of natural forms (not forms natural to stone) will be disappointed in the exhibi- tion of his work at the Fine Art Society's galleries. He will see, as in the Angel Gabriel (13), a hand which, on repre- sentational standards, is no doubt deformed, become, should he be sufficiently sensitive, an inevitably re-formed mass which, forms part of the rhythmic unity of the whole. . The seemingly illogical use of the word " hand " in describing this piece of sculpture is merely a convenient- method of reference to a particular portion or proportion of the marble which has as much relationship to representational values as the wings have to every-day human sinners. To obtain full pleasure from such sculpture it is essential to be able to accept it as a piece of vitally designed marble which is not supposed to be like anything other than itself.
' When we are able to adopt this attitude of mind we may find, perhaps, that, although unlike any particular thing, it may have in it something of the nature of all things. This is Art. Admittedly the initial stimulus for such a design may have emanated from some definite, natural object, but the artist, because he was an artist, was able, by some process or other, to remould it and produce an entirely new object of rhythmic unity, which has, at the same time, a logical appropriateness to the medium in which it is fashioned.
This process may be termed " universalization."
When we say that a work of Art should be 'universal in its appeal we do not mean that it should, of necessity, appeal to the vastest number, but that it should have progressed sufficiently far from the particular to be acceptable by the universally minded. So long have we been accustomed to artifice masquerading as Art, however, that we are beginning to believe in the reality and truth of the masquerade ; and, as a consequence when any real Art makes its entry, it seems, in its truth, so strange to us, that we find ourselves unable to accept it. We are not indifferent to it. We pretend to be shocked. This is what happened at the first , exhibition of the work of Mestrovic in England. I have purposely refrained from referring, in any great measure, to the work in the present Exhibition at Bond Street, for I consider that it is by no means representative of Mestrovic at his best. It is, as are most private exhibitions in England of the work of foreign artists, fragmentary in nature. Some idea of his power may be gained from the study of the illustrated books which deal with his Art and there are good examples of his actual work in South Kensington.
W. MCCANCE.
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