There’s
something bewitching about the new exhibition at the Memorial Art Gallery. The
Degas bronzes, which form the core of the show, are dazzlingly seductive in
their beauty. But what lies beneath those gleaming surfaces?
The story begins at the end, when
Degas died in 1917 after years of failing health and virtual blindness. The
relatives and dealers descended, and Degas’s vast collection of art —
including masterpieces by Delacroix, Ingres, Cezanne, Manet, Daumier, and
Gauguin that he had intended to donate to the state — was quickly liquidated
in a series of auctions. But one question still remained: What to do with about
150 wax sculptures of dancers, bathers, and horses that lay in various states
of decay around his studio and apartment?
After some legal wrangling it was
finally decided that 73 of the best sculptures would be cast in bronze, each in
an edition of 22. But the casting of these waxes ran contrary to Degas’s
wishes. He had often been quite adamant that his sculptures were merely
“exercises to get me going” (in an interview with the journalist François
Thiébault-Sisson in 1897) — in preparation for his painting and drawing. An
exception to this was the wax of the Little
Dancer, Aged 14 — the only sculpture Degas ever publicly exhibited.
Degas never cast any of his works in
bronze, thinking it too permanent a medium. Ambroise Vollard’s brief but
personal biography of Degas, published in 1924, recounts the artist insisting
that “it’s too much responsibility… that stuff lasts for eternity!” But after
Degas’s death it was argued that casting his sculptures in this metal was the
perfect way to preserve his delicate models for posterity. In 1918 Degas’s
dealer, Durand-Ruel, wrote, “the waxes are so dry that I am afraid, if they are
not cast soon by an expert, they will crumble completely into worthless
pieces.”
If preservation really was the goal,
was it necessary to make so many copies of each? Surely one or two would have
sufficed. Strange too, that the waxes, which were in such imminent danger of
collapse, still survive to this day. The majority of them have recently gone on
display in the new sculpture galleries at the National Gallery of Art in
Washington.
Clearly a desire to cash in on the
name of Degas played an important role in the creation of these bronzes, and
for some people the hypocrisy rankles. But the patina of time has lent them
increased respectability, and they have become more and more collected. The
process, however, was slow. In its 1946 bulletin, the Metropolitan Museum of
Art still regarded them with thinly disguised disdain: “The reproduction of
these unfinished sketches in 20 sets of bronze… is rather too plainly a
franc-stretching gesture on the part of the [artist’s] heirs.”
It’s naïve to expect that art can
ever be entirely divorced from commerce, nor is their relationship necessarily
detrimental. You need only take a short stroll around the beautifully lit cases
at the Memorial Art Gallery to realize that, whatever their origins, the
bronzes radiate genius. They were cast by Albino Palazzolo, a master of his
craft, at one of the best foundries in Paris. And Palazzolo was meticulous in
his adherence to the original wax models. The respect with which the sculptures
were made elevates them far above any gift-shop reproduction.
The star of the show is undoubtedly
the Little Dancer,whose upright stance and proud impish
features convey a powerful sense of youthful confidence. It’s all the more
poignant, then, to discover that the young ballet student who modeled for it
did not succeed in her chosen field but, later, like many of her kind, fell
into a life of prostitution. Other highlights include Dancer Looking At The Sole Of Her Right Foot, a brilliant example
of Degas’s preoccupation with realism, and a magnificent case of three
elegantly balanced Arabesques.
To accompany the sculptures the
gallery has put together an impressive display of Degas’s works in other media
— pastels, sketches, prints, paintings. But the bronzes, as faithful records
of those unfinished and unselfconscious waxes, give us the deepest insights
into Degas’s art. It is peculiar to contemplate that pieces fabricated after
his death, without his authorization, in a medium in which he had never even
experimented, could so successfully evoke the spirit of the man. But they do.
Edgar
Degas: Figures in Motion continues through January 5 at the
Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue. Hours: Tuesdays and Wednesdays,
noon to 5 p.m.; Thursdays and Fridays noon to 9 p.m.; Saturdays 10 to 5 p.m.;
Sundays noon to 5 p.m. Tickets: adults $10 (weekends $12); seniors and students
$9 (weekends $11); children 6-16 $6. Weekend prices apply on Fridays, too.
473-7720.
This article appears in Oct 30 – Nov 5, 2002.
