Hello again everyone! A series of life challenges has kept me from being very social for the last few years. Between recurring episodes of COVID, more spinal surgeries (two fusions - FINALLY) and a nasty cancer diagnosis in the family (I'm the caretaker), I haven't had the energy even to keep up my correspondences much less write blog posts. But today I feel a bit more energetic and I have a little free time between projects and appointments, so I thought I'd share my most recent discovery.
I have stated in the past that I believe in private ownership of art alongside public ownership of the same. Museum curators display art pieces as they see fit. The space, lighting, viewing angles, all and more are decided for the viewer as is the narrative that the curator wishes to advance. With private ownership, however, there is a greater freedom in all aspects of display. It is easier, in my opinion, to get a better all-around view of a work as well as to change the lighting and location and gain new, sometimes very surprising, insights from it.
This is definitely the case with my copy of Primitive Chant To The Great Spirit by Hermon Atkins MacNeil. As I mentioned in my previous post about this fine antique bronze, my copy was cast after the first finished version of the plaster model and was cast in a lot of three between 1910-1911. I believe they were given as gifts to Hermon MacNeil's family as the other two copies have his cousins at the beginning of their provenance. My copy does not have a complete chain of ownership, that having been broken in the 1990's when it was sold by an antiques dealer who did not provide any prior ownership records, but the characteristics of mine match exactly the other two MacNeil family copies cast during the aforementioned period.
Now, I had always admired this work, from the first time I saw a picture of one in a book of Western bronzes. I jumped at the chance to buy this casting. I've always thought the sculpting was exquisite, though I thought MacNeil's choices regarding Black Pipe's loincloth were a bit confusing. The front flap, while being animated, sits flat against the body instead of curling outward like the rear flap which is on the majority of the other copies (though not on the grouping of three from which mine comes, among a few other castings as well, one such being Geraldine Rockefeller Dodge's copy). It looks rather odd and not very representative of traditional Lakota menswear. But hey, what do I know? Black Pipe must have thought it was okay, so who am I to question?
I keep my Primitive Chant on the top of my antique oak roll-top desk, on the far right side, with my copy of The Sioux Brave Black Pipe plaque hanging on the wall behind and three copies of the Society Of Medalists medals that MacNeil also designed, each with a different patina and each on a stand. I had Primitive Chant positioned parallel to the wall so that Black Pipe faced off the right side of my desk. Well, this arrangement, while nice in the grouping, did little to open up the front of the sculpture to the rest of the room. A couple days ago, while dusting the room, I decided to turn Primitive Chant an eighth of a turn clockwise so that it faces the entry door. I found I liked that quite a bit, so I moved to the back of the room to grab my duster and finish the job.
When I turned around, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was floored. I gave my eyes a good hard rub and cleaned my glasses. That only made things clearer. It was breathtaking. I had to grab my phone and snap a picture. The image came out dark and a bit washed out, so in the viewer app I upped the exposure, washing out the image even more, so I had to dial up the contrast as well. The effect was compounded. I tried it again, changing the lighting and viewing angle. The effect disappeared and it went back to looking just like it always has. But with the lights thus, and the viewing angle such, MacNeil's true genius is on full display. The odd folds, bumps and flap resolve into perfect harmony. The trompe-l'oeil is amazing. The level of detail is much more in keeping with what I'd expect from a master sculptor like Hermon MacNeil in the prime of his life and at the height of his creativity. The way the front flap folds around now makes perfect sense.
I strongly doubt any museum curator is going to display Primitive Chant in THIS manner!
With all that being said, here is my best photograph of Primitive Chant To The Great Spirit by the supremely talented Hermon Atkins MacNeil that fully captures the effect. As I stated, I had to bump the exposure, contrast and a touch of sharpness, but otherwise it's as taken. Please pardon the wall. I know I need to touch up the plaster and repaint the room. Like everything in my life, it's a work in progress. The picture is best viewed full size.
I think Black Pipe was quite the peacock!
Enjoy.
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| Primitive Chant To The Great Spirit by Hermon Atkins MacNeil, cast ca. 1910-1911, before |
| Primitive Chant To The Great Spirit by Hermon Atkins MacNeil, cast ca. 1910-1911, after |
PS: If you happen to view another copy of Primitive Chant, one thing to consider is that the statue was not cast as one integral piece. The raised right leg was welded onto the upper thigh by Roman Bronze Works and may be a little bit off from casting to casting. Do not pay attention the position of the right leg on my casting when moving around another bronze and looking for Black Pipe's surprise.
PPS: Folks, the word of the month is the past tense transitive verb POLEAXED. I still feel like Father Brennan, the priest who was also the Secret Satan(ist), in his final scene in the movie The Omen. Divine punishment as served up by the ghost of Vlad Țepeș. That was the day that I learned the etymology of the word “wow.” I was trying for a phrase beginning with “what” but could only stand there repeating “wha.” I still can't believe this is there, but I now know the secret and can see this whenever I start doubting my eyes and memory. It's real. Mac did it, Mac hid it, but I’ve seen it and now so have you.
