The 40s: The Story of a Decade (93 page)

APRIL 9, 1949

G
eorges Braque, the subject of a really massive retrospective exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, and Pablo Picasso—who, between them, are generally recognized as the founders of the Cubist movement—were practically inseparable almost from the time they first met, in 1907, in Paris, through the six or seven years that their friendship lasted. It is unlikely that in the history of art any other two such dissimilar personalities were ever brought into such an intimate, productive relationship. The stocky, swarthy Picasso—passionate, volatile, aggressive, brilliantly imaginative and creative—was very nearly the exact opposite of Braque, who was tall, slow, sparely built, elegant, and rather retiring. They quarrelled, over some minor matter, just before the First World War, and after that saw little of each other. It is significant that the period of their friendship was that of Cubism’s greatest development, and the pair of them, working together, did far more to formulate, express, and expound that theory than they possibly could
have done apart. Their association not only covered but defined an era, and I have always believed that one reason for its dissolution was that they no longer had any artistic need for each other.

Braque, at the beginning of their friendship, was twenty-five, having been born in 1882, in Argenteuil, down the Seine from Paris, and as the earliest canvases in the exhibition reveal, he was still a bit insecure in his style.
The Port
and
Port at Antwerp
, for instance, done in 1904 and 1906, respectively, are both rather Fauve in manner (the latter, a charming little painting, is extremely reminiscent of the early Dufy), while
Landscape at l’Estaque
, also of 1906, shows an equally strong Cézanne influence. It is the
Large Nude
, of 1907, that marks the change. This was, incidentally, the year Picasso completed his
Demoiselles d’Avignon
, often called the first Cubist picture, and the similarity of approach in the two canvases is startling. In this case, I feel that although Braque was undoubtedly influenced by Picasso’s design, no plagiarism was involved, and that it is simply an early evidence of the curious capacity the two men were to develop for thinking and painting alike.

Braque, like Picasso, had only partly awakened to the possibilities of Cubism, and for a while (see
Houses at l’Estaque
and
Port in Normandy
) he vacillated between it and his old styles.
Guitar and Compote Dish
, dated 1909, seems to me the first picture in the show in which Cubist principles are fully realized—in which a group of small objects, chosen for their pictorial opportunities rather than for any literal affinity, have been set down together and really studied, in an attempt to break up and then recombine their forms in a firmer and more durable relationship.

Braque, again like Picasso, did a great deal of such studying from then on, and this large show (which includes oils, drawings, prints, and sculptures) gives a comprehensive account of his progress and achievements. The first definite development of the movement was “facet” Cubism, and there is a roomful of pictures in that style, the most noteworthy being the oval
Battleship, Still Life with Playing Cards, Glass and Violin, Still Life on Table
, and the beautifully organized
Man with a Guitar.
These are dated from 1910 to 1913, in the period of Braque’s close relation with Picasso. After that ended, their paths diverged, in Braque’s case toward a looser, gentler, and at the same time more elegant abstract style, of rugged outlines and simple forms and subdued though richly harmonious colors, in which textures, too, played an increasingly effective part, so that now they have become as important as the forms delineated.

Still-lifes predominate, and there are some excellent pieces in this
section of the show, covering the years from 1914 to 1930—the fine, angular
The Musician
, the small
Still Life with Grapes
, the slightly Juan Gris-ish
Café-Bar
, the handsome
On the Table, The Mantelpiece
, and
Still Life: The Table.
One of the handicaps of the Cubist style had been that it tended to limit itself to “arranged” subjects, such as still-lifes and portraits, and, beginning with “Nude with Basket of Fruit,” of 1924, Braque has tried occasionally to break these bonds, by attacking less static material. He has not always been successful, and among the few real failures in the show must be listed
Painter and Model
and
Woman with a Mandolin
, as well as his formalized landscapes (
Cliffs and Fishing Boat, The Cliffs
, and so on), which are basically inept. Unquestionably, it is chiefly as a painter of still-lifes that Braque will survive, and of these the show contains a rich assortment. I was especially interested in some of the latest examples, in which again, though he’s now nearly sixty-seven, he appears to be seeking new modes of expression. Note, for instance, the rather realistically handled
The Stove
, of 1944, as contrasted with the practically Expressionistic
The Sunflowers
and
The Chair
, of 1946 and 1947, respectively—a final fillip to show that the Old Master can still throw his weight around.

· · ·

The complaints about abstract and non-objective painting have ranged from the perennial “Let them learn how to draw” to statements that the artists involved are obviously subversive. But almost the only complaint that ever held water is that they model their styles too closely and unimaginatively on those of the great originators, such as Braque, Picasso, Mondrian, and Kandinsky. Even this tendency is dying out, if the current annual exhibition of the American Abstract Artists, at the Riverside Museum, can be taken as evidence. Some influences are apparent, to be sure. Mondrian appears here and there, as in Ilya Bolotowsky’s very fine
Prairie Window
, and Kandinsky in Joseph Meierhans’ cheerful
Sun Bow
, among others. But classic French Cubism, slavishly applied to American subjects, is happily absent, and the emphasis instead is on that new type of “abstract Expressionism” that seems, on the whole, to be better rooted in this country. All this makes for a lively showing, and the fact that this year a number of guest artists have been included gives extra breadth to the collection. I liked particularly Eleanor de Laittre’s gray-and-white
Steel and Plastic
, Fannie Hillsmith’s large, fluently designed
Table with Object
, Charles Shaw’s
Composition
, and Serge Chermayeff’s
colorful
Barn Dance.
Among the sculptures, Peter Gripp’s
Symbolic Figure
and Ward Bennett’s gracefully handled
Fish
are the most notable.

LEWIS MUMFORD

MAY 4, 1940

N
ine years ago, Rockefeller Center was still on the drafting board. Mr. Rockefeller was referring hopefully to the possibility of giving the buildings an Egyptian touch. Some directors of the Metropolitan Opera House were talking hopefully about a new home. The Center’s publicity men, dreaming of larger and more magnificent headlines, had collaborated with the late Raymond Hood to concoct one of the most insipid ideas the project has been afflicted with: hanging gardens. More romantic than anyone else, Mr. Rockefeller’s financial advisers were talking hopefully about producing even more rentable space than would be required to create an income on which Columbia University could live in the style to which it was accustomed. About the last thought that occurred to anyone was that a group of office buildings ought to be efficiently designed as offices.

In spite of all these handicaps, Rockefeller Center has turned into an impressive collection of structures; they form a composition in which unity and coherence have to a considerable degree diminished the fault of overemphasis. In other words, they get by. Now, when the project is complete, one can see that the worst mistakes were made at the beginning and that as the decade wore on, the architects, at least, gradually achieved a more rational conception of their problem. But the most gigantic blunders had already been made. Among those blunders one must include the seventy-story R.C.A. Building, because of its seventy stories, the sunken plaza, the hanging gardens, and the—alas!—superfluous motion-picture theatre.