Cezanne and American Painting 1900 to 19 2 O Approved by Dissertation Committee: THIS IS AN ORIGINA.L MJ'.1.NUSCRIPl IT MA'{ NOT BE cc:.):ED WiTHOUT THE AUTHOR'S PEFlMISSiON Copyright by Jill Anderson Kyle 1995 Cezanne and American Painting 1900 to 192 0 by Jill Anderson Kyle, B.A., M.A. Di~ertation Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of The University of Texas at Austin in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy The University of Texas at Austin May, 1995 Dedication For Jerry Acknowledgements This study would have been impossible without the assistance of many individuals whose courtesy I gratefully acknowledge: Janis Ekdahl, librarian, The Museum of Modern Art, New York; Ruth E. Fine, Curator of Modern Prints and Drawings, the National Gallery of Art; Donald Gallup, the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript library, Yale University; Marilyn S. Kushner, Curator, Montclair Art Museum; Nancy M. Matthews, Prendergast Curator, Williams College Museum of Art; Dr. Carol A. Nathanson, Wright State University; William E. O'Reilly, Salander-O'Reilly Galleries, New York; Clive Phillpot, Director of the library, The Museum of Modern Art, New York; the late John Rewald; Kim Tenney, Fine Arts librarian, Boston Public library; Judy Throm, Archivist, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.; Neal Turtell, Executive librarian, the National Gallery of Art; Patricia C. Willis, Curator, the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript library, Yale University; and Dr. Judith K. Zilczer, Curator of American Art, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Washington, D.C. v I appreciate the guidance that my advisor Dr. Linda D. Henderson offered me during a lengthy period of research and writing. I valued her opinions and accessibility. I am also grateful to Dr. William A. Camfield, Dr. John R. Clarke, Dr. Brenda I. Preyer, and Dr. Richard A. Shiff who read my dissertation and served on my defense committee. My son Dillon, an architect, took time from a busy schedule to calculate placements for and then mount each image in the ilustrations. I thank him for his help. I also thank Lee Ligon for the thoughtful editorial suggestions that made my manuscript stylistically more correct and much more readable. For the constant encouragement and support that they gave me, my deepest gratitude goes to my family. vi Cezanne and American Painting 1900 to 1920 Publication No.----­ Jill Anderson Kyle, Ph.D. The University of Texas at Austin, 199 5 Supervisor: Llnda Dalrymple Henderson This dissertation investigates the impact of Cezanne upon the art and theory of ten early modernist painters who stand as his major American disciples in the period from 1900 to 1920. This group includes: Maurice Prendergast, John Marin, Marsden Hartley, Max Weber, Morton L. Scharnberg, Charles Sheeler, Charles Demuth, Stanton Macdonald­Wright, Morgan Russell, and Patrick Henry Bruce. While these artists have been studied individually, no one has examined them as a group whose focus on modern European art, primarily that of Cezanne, was largely guided by the intellectual and cultural backdrop of their own country. The form-related terminology of well-known American writers, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, and William James, deepened and prolonged these Americans' interest in Cezanne's painting and the French and British criticism that accompanied it. Vil Particularly relevant to this study is the term "plastic." It was used by American men of letters, French avant-garde critics, and a number of early modernists who, when they applied the word to some aspect of Cezanne's art, significantly expanded its connotations. Aware of European criticism that addressed Cezanne's art, the Americans nonetheless brought their own practical and theoretical insights to their interpretations of his painting. In this context, a great deal of archival material confirms that the perceptive commentary on Cezanne by Hartley, Scharnberg, Sheeler, Weber, Russell and others constituted a new genre of early modernist art criticism. The American response to Cezanne also did not occur as an isolated artistic phenomenon. The early modernists' commitment to experimentation with features of Cezanne's visual language was often supported by ideas derived from photography, japonisme, and primitivism, three artistic factors that affected the understanding of Cezanne in this country. A close investigation of the Americans' Cezanne-related works reveals a complexity of response that ranges from an intellectual, geometric ordering of subject elements to suggestive compositions in which thin washes dematerialize plastic form. The study concludes with a brief discussion of Cezanne's place in the American return to ideas of 'classicism' in art following World War I, a reversion to conservative interests that replaced the former drive for experimentation. viii Table of Contents Llst of Illustrations ............................................................................................. x Chapter 1 Introduction ......................................................................................1 Chapter II Advanced Concepts and a New Terminology: American Foundations for Understanding and Defining Cezanne's Modem Art ............................................................................................................... 28 Chapter III European Introduction to Cezanne ........................................ .123 Chapter N After Europe: The American Context for a Continued Focus on Cezanne .................................................................................... 198 Chapter V Cezanne and American Painting ..............................................326 Chapter VI Conclusion ...................................................................................A76 Illustrations ......................................................................................................~91 Appendix A Cezanne in European Art Exhibitions 1900-1920 ................ 621 Appendix B Cezanne in New York City Art Exhibitions 1900-1920 ........ 631 Appendix C Ten American Early Modernists in European and New York City Exhibitions 1900-1920 ......................................................... .639 Bibliography ...................................................................................................669 Vita ....................................................................................................................708 lX Llst of illustrations 1. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Madame Cezanne, 1872-7 (V. 229), oil on canvas, Art Salon Takahata, Osaka, Japan. 2. Paul Cezanne, Les Baigneurs au repos, 1875-6 (V. 276), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 3. Paul Cezanne, La Conduit d'eau, 1879-82 (V. 310), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 4. Paul Cezanne, Pommes, 1873-7 (V. 191), oil on canvas, Private Collection. 5. Paul Cezanne, Trois Baigneuses, 1879-82 (V. 381) oil on canvas, Musee de la ville de Paris, Petit Palais. 6. Paul Cezanne, Bouquet de fleurs, 1902-3 (V. 757), oil on canvas, The National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C. 7. Paul Cezanne, Sucrier, poires et tapis, 1890-4 (V. 624), oil on canvas, The Philadelphia Museum of Art. 8. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Saint-Victoire, 1885-7 (RWC 279), pencil and watercolor on paper, The Courtauld Institute Galleries, London. 9. Alfred Stieglitz, The Steerage, 1907, photogravure, Private Collection. 10. Paul Cezanne, Les ]oueurs de cartes, 1890-2 (V. 559), oil on canvas, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 11. Morton Scharnberg, Figure B (Geometrical Patterns), 1913, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 12. Maurice Prendergast, Pincian Hill, Rome, 1898, watercolor and pencil on paper, The Phillips Collection, Washington, D. C. 13. Maurice Prendergast, Carnival (Franklin Park, Boston), ca. 1896­7, watercolor and pencil on paper, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. x 14. Maurice Prendergast, Luxembourg Garden, ca. 1907, watercolor and pencil on paper, present location unknown. 15. Maurice Prendergast, Beach Scene, St. Malo, ca. 1907, watercolor, pencil, and charcoal on paper, The Cleveland Museum of Art. 16. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire, 1888-90 (RWC 284), watercolor on paper, Smith College Museum of Art, Northhampton, MA. 17. Paul Cezanne, La Remise a Chateau Noire, 1890-5 (RWC 384), pencil and watercolor on paper, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 18. Maurice Prendergast, Summer Day, New England, ca. 1910-11, watercolor and charcoal on paper, The Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C. 19. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Chocquet, 1876-7 (V. 283), oil on canvas, The Philadelphia Museum of Art. 20. Maurice Prendergast, Cinerarias and Fruit, ca. 1910-13, oil on canvas, The Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. 21. Paul Cezanne, Le Plat de pommes, 1873-7 (V. 207), oil on canvas, The Philadelphia Museum of Art, 22. Maurice Prendergast, Girl in Blue, ca. 1910-13, oil on canvas, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhorn, 1966. 23. Maurice Prendergast, Five Bathers, ca. 1910-13, oil on panel, Fundacion Robert Brady. 24. Maurice Prendergast, Four Nudes at the Seashore, ca. 1910-13, oil on panel, Williams College Museum of Art, Williamstown, MA. 25. Paul Cezanne, Baigneuses devant la tente, 1883-5 (V. 543), oil on canvas, Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart. 26. Paul Cezanne, Les Ondines, 1883-5 (V. 538), oil on canvas, Private Collection. Xl 27. Maurice Prendergast, Autumn in the Mountains, ca. 1910-13, watercolor and pencil on paper, Private Collection. 28. Maurice Prendergast, Bathers, 1916-19, watercolor, graphite, and pastel over black chalk underdrawing, The Saint Louis Art Museum. 29. Max Weber, My Studio in Paris, 1907, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 30. Max Weber, Three Tulips, 1907, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 31. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Louis Guillaume, 1879-82 (V. 374), oil on canvas, The National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C. 32. Max Weber, Portrait of Abraham Walkowitz, 1907, oil on canvas, The Brooklyn Museum. 33. Max Weber, The Bathers, 1909, oil on canvas, The Baltimore Museum of Art (The Cone Collection). 34. Paul Cezanne, Cinq Baigneuses, 1885-87 (V. 542), Offentliche Kunstsammulung Basel, Kunstmuseum. 35. Henri Matisse, Le Nu bleu, 1907, oil on canvas, The Baltimore Museum of Art (The Cone Collection). 36. Henri Matisse, Baignade, 1907, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 37. Max Weber, Still Life with Banana, 1909, oil on canvas, The Forum Gallery, New York. 38. Paul Cezanne, Pommes et oranges, 1895-1900 (V. 732), oil on canvas, Musee d'Orsay, Paris. 39. Max Weber, Crouching Nude Figure, 1911, single color linoleum cut, present location unknown. 40. Georges Braques, La Femme, 1908, ink drawing, present location unknown. 41. Max Weber, The Geranium, 1911, oil on canvas, The Museum of Modem Art, New York. 42. Max Weber, Chinese Ginger jar, 1911, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 43. Max Weber, Forest Scene, 1911, water with graphite on paper, The Forum Gallery, New York. 44. George Braques, Trees at L'Estaque, 1908, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 45. Paul Cezanne, Fruits et feuillage, 1890-4 (V. 613), oil on cnavas, present location unknown. 46. Max Weber, Central Park, 1911, watercolor on paper, present location unknown. 47. Paul Cezanne Arbres et roches, ca. 1890 (RWC 328), pencil and watercolor on paper, The Philadelphia Museum of Art. 48. Max Weber, Landscape, 1911, watercolor on paper, Yale University Art Gallery. 49. Paul Cezanne, Sous-bois, 1885-1900 (RWC 440), pencil and watercolor on paper, present location unknown. 50. Max Weber, Connecticut Landscape, 1911, oil on wood panel, estate of the artist. 51. Claude Lorraine (Claude Gellee), Wash Drawing, 17th century. 52. Max Weber, Alvin Langdon Coburn, 1911, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 53. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Cezanne, 1879-82 (V. 365), oil on canvas, The National Gallery, Milbank, London. 54. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Cezanne, 1879-82 (V. 366), oil on canvas, Private Collection. 55. Max Weber, Abstract Still Life, 1912, gouache with graphite on paper, The Forum Gallery, New York. 56. Pablo Picasso, Untitled Still Life, 1908, oil on board, formerly in the collection of Max Weber, now owned by his daughter Joy S. Weber. 57. Max Weber, Three Crystal Figures, 1910, oil on board, The Forum Gallery, New York. Xll xiii 58. Max Weber, Female Nude Standing, 1912, graphite on paper, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhorn, 1966. 59. Max Weber, Still life, 1920, oil on canvas, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Sol Fishko. 60. Marsden Hartley, Group of Pears, 1923, lithograph, University of Minnesota Art Museum, Minneapolis (The Ione and Hudson Walker Collection). 61. Marsden Hartley, Still life, 1910, pastel and gouache on paper, The Saint Louis Art Museum. 62. Marsden Hartley, Still life, No. 12, 1910, oil on canvas, University of Minnesota Art Museum, Minneapolis (The lone and Hudson Walker Collection). 63. Marsden Hartley, Landscape No. 32, 1911, watercolor on paper, University of Minneesota Art Museum (The Ione and Hudson Walker Collection). 64. Marsden Hartley, Still life No. 11, 1911, oil on canvas, University of Minnesota Art Museum, Minneapolis (The lone and Hudson Walker Collection). 65. Pablo Picasso, Pears and Apples, 1 908, oil on panel, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. James W. Alsdorf, Chicago. 66. Pablo Picasso, Fruit and Wineglass, 1908, tempera on panel, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. 67. Marsden Hartley, Fruit Still Life, 1912, oil on canvas, Georgia Museum of Art, The University of Georgia, Athens. 68. Marsden Hartley, Musical Theme, No. 2 (Bach Preludes et Fugues), 1912, oil on canvas mounted on masonite, Private Collection. 69. Marsden Hartley, Abstraction, 1916, oil on board, The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York. 70. Marsden Hartley, Still Ufe with Fruit, 1916, oil on canvas, The Berkshire Museum, Pittsfield, MA. 71. Marsden Hartley, Still Life: Three Pears, 1918, pastel on paper, Williams College Museum of Art, Williamstown, MA. 72. Marsden Hartley, Still Ufe No. 5, 1918, pastel on paper mounted on board, University of Minnesota Art Museum, Minneapolis (The lone an Hudson Walker Collection). 73. Marsden Hartley, New Mexico, 1918, pastel on cardboard, University of Minnesota Art Museum, Minneapolis (The lone and Hudson Walker Collection). 74. Marsden Hartley, Arroyo Hondo, Valdez, 1918, pastel on cardboard, The Phoenix Art Museum. 75. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire vue des environs de Saint-Marc, ca. 1900 (RWC 598), pencil and watercolor on paper, Musee Granet, Alx-en-Provence. 76. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire, ca. 1900 (RWC 499), pencil and watercolor on paper, Private Collection. 77. Charles Demuth, Landscape after Marin, 1914, watercolor on paper, Private Collection. 78. John Marin, Berkshires, 1912, watercolor on paper, The Berkshire Museum, Pittsfield, MA. 79. John Marin, Adirondacks I, ca. 1913, watercolor and graphite on paper, Kennedy Galleries, New York. 80. John Marin, Landscape, 1913, watercolor on paper, The Cleveland Museum of Art. 81. Paul Cezanne, Paysage pres du ]as de Bouffan, 1878-82 (V. 304), oil on canvas, The National Gallery, Oslo. 82. Charles Demuth, Bathers at the Dock, undated, watercolor and pencil, The Philadelphia Museum of Art. 83. Paul Cezanne, Baigneur aux bras ecartes, 1885-7 (V. 549), oil on canvas, Private Collection. 84. Charles Demuth, Men Swimming, No. 1, ca. 1910, watercolor and ink on paper, present loation unknown. 85. Paul Cezanne, small Les Baigneurs, 1896-7 (V. 1156), color lithograph, Offentliche Kunstsammulung Basel, Kunstmuseum. 86. Paul Cezanne, large Les Baigneurs, 1896-8 (V. 1157), color lithograph, Josefowitz Collection. 87. Charles Demuth, New Hope Landscape, 1908, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 88. Paul Cezanne, Effet de neige, 1872-3 (V. 137), oil on canvas, present location unknown. 89. Charles Demuth, Landscape, 1909-10 (verso of Man Standing on Dunes, 1909-10), oil on paperboard, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhorn, 1966. 90. Paul Cezanne, Le Golfe de Marseille, vu de L'Estaque, 1883-85 (V. 429), oil on canvas, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 91. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire, 1900-2 (RWC 502), pencil, gouache, and watercolor on paper, Musee du Louvre, Paris. 92. Charles Demuth, Mt. Gilboa #5, ca. 1912-15, watercolor on paper, Hirshhorn Musuem and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhom, 1966. 93. Charles Demuth, Tress and Rooftops, 1916, watercolor on paper, Private Collection. 94. Charles Demuth, Bermuda Landscape, 1917, watercolor on paper, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, The Smithsonian Institution, The Joseph H. Hirshhom Bequest, 1981. 95. Charles Demuth, Rooftops and Trees, 1918, watercolor and pencil, The Corcoran Gallecy of Art, Washington, D. C. 96. Paul Cezanne, Paysage de Provence, 1890-5 (RWC 390), pencil and watercolor on paper, Private Collection. 97. Paul Cezanne, Toits et arbre, 1888-90 (RWC 360), watercolor on paper, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam. 98. Paul Cezanne, Toits de L'Estaque, 1878-82 (RWC 116), pencil and watercolor on paper, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam. 99. Morton Scharnberg, Landscape (with Houses), 1910, oil on panel, Private Collection. 100. Paul Cezanne, Paysage, 1885-7 (V. 482), oil on canvas, present location unknown. 101. Morton Scharnberg, Seascape, 1910-11, pastel on board, Private Collection. 102. Morton Scharnberg, Still Life: (Bowl and Grapes), 1911, oil on board, Private Collection. 103. Morton Scharnberg, Studio Interior, ca. 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 104. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Chocquet, 1879-82 (V. 373), oil on canvas, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. 105. Kitagawa Utamaro, The Artist Kitao Masanobu Relaxing at a Party, color woodcut, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 106. Charles Sheeler, Plums on a Plate, 1910, oil on wood panel, Private Collection. 107 Charles Sheeler, Peaches in a White Plate, 1910, oil on canvas, Private Collection. xiv xv XVl 108 Paul Cezanne, Fruits sur la table, 1890-4 (V. 608), oil on cnavas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 109. Paul Cezanne, Quatre Peches sur une assiette, 1890-4 (V. 614), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 110. Paul Cezanne, Un Coin de table, 1895-1900 (V. 746), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 111. Morgan Russell, Bathers, ca. 1908, oil on masonite, Collection of George Hopper Fitch. xvii 112. Paul Cezanne, Les Baigneurs, ca. 1895 (V. 724), oil on canvas, The Baltimore Museum of Art (The Cone Collection). 113. Paul Cezanne, Groupe de baigneurs, 1892-4 (V. 590), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. 114. Morgan Russell, Nude Men on the Beach, 1910, oil on cardboard, Collection of Dr. and Mrs. William Q. Sturner. 115. Morgan Russell, Pencil Sketch after Cezanne's "Baigneurs aux bras ecartes," 1910, Morgan Russell Archives, The Montclair Art Museum. 116. Morgan Russell, Apple Still Life, ca. 1910, oil on canvas, Morgan Russell Archives, The Montclair Art Museum. 11 7. Morgan Russell, Geranium, 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 118. Paul Cezanne, Les Petunias, 1875-6 (V. 198), oil on canvas, E.G. Biihrle Collection, Zurich. 119. Morgan Russell, Three Apples, ca. 1910-15? oil on cardboard, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. 120. Morgan Russell, Apple and Pear Still Life, ca. 1915, oil on canvas, The Montclair Art Museum. 121. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Still Life of Vase and Fruit, 1911-13, oil on panel, Private Collection. 122. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Portrait of the Artist's Brother, 1914, oil on canvas, The National Portrait Gallery, The Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D. C. 123. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Gustave Geffroy, 1895 (V. 692), oil on canvas, Private Collection. 124. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Still Life No. 1, 1916-17, oil on pasteboard, The Columbus Museum of Art. 125. Patrick Henry Bruce, Floral Still Life, ca. 1910, oil on canvas, Private Collection. 126. Patrick Henry Bruce, Leaves, 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. xvm 127. Patrick Henry Bruce, Landscape Summer, 1912, oil on canvas, The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. 128. Paul Cezanne, Sentier en Foret, 1882-84 (RWC 170), pencil and watercolor on paper, Private Collection. 129. Patrick Henry Bruce, Pein ture, 1917-18, oil and pencil on canvas, Collection of Rolf Weinberg, Zurich. 130. Morgan Russell, Archaic Composition No. 1, 1915, oil on canvas, The Museum of Modem Art, New York. xix CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION To attain perfect clearness in our thoughts of an object . . . we need only consider what conceivable effects of a practical kind the object may involve--what sensations we are to expect from it, and what reactions we must prepare. Our conception of these effects, whether immediate or remote, is then for us the whole of our conception of the object, so far as that conception has positive significance at au. I At the end of the nineteenth century. the United States had an abundance of creative forces, but no viable aesthetic tradition of its own. Throughout the century, American painters, seeking the eclectic, sophisticated styles that patrons at home prefered, rejected the meager artistic opportunities in this country and avidly pursued training in European cities such as Dtisseldorf, Munich, and Paris. 2 Although the borrowings from abroad manifested an American skill in adopting "international styles," the practice rarely reflected individuality and, as mere imitation of European painterly modes and techniques, was void of any true native relevance.3 1 Indeed, the elegant styles and themes in American painting and the artistic values that accompanied them, such as obedience to academic norms, Puritan restraints, and the respectable decorum of the "genteel tradition," were superficial, yet they quite adequately captured the prevalent Victorian ideal of American upper-class life.4 However, during the first two decades of the twentieth century, the security of a conservative past epoch, still alive in American "genteel" values, proved impotent when confronted by the new demands of a modem, urban twentieth-century society. Deprived of any transitional ground between a practical world of action and an intellectual world of thought, America was, by one account, a country whose pysche bore a "schizophrenic split." 5 What could not be escaped were the demands of modernity and the need in art and philosophy for extrication from the conservative security of a past epoch in order to meet new criteria. Between 1900 and 1920, Americans continued to experience the dichotomous pulls of a widespread urgency to escape the protective construct of out-moded artistic traditions and a certain sense of fear associated with a world transformed by new science and technology. In the early years of this century, an eloquent voice for those who observed long-accepted certainties assailed by the impact of modernity was that of Harvard professor Henry Adams, who in 1905, described the scene he surveyed in New York: Power seemed to have outgrown its servitude and to have asserted its freedom. The cylinder had exploded, and thrown great masses of stone and steam against the sky. Prosperity never before imagined, power never yet wielded by man, speed never reached by anything but a meteor, had made the world irritable, nervous, querulous, unreasonable and afraid. All New York was demanding new men, and all the new forces, condensed into corporations, were demanding a new type of man--a man with ten times the endurance, energy, will and mind of the old type--for whom they were ready to pay millions at sight. 6 Co-existent with this progressive sensibility, but not entirely compatible with it, was another issue, namely a clamor for an indigeneous national art. Unconcerned with aesthetic issues, yoked instead to the deeply rooted American concept of realism and ideas that were both didactic and moralistic, these protagonists advocated a national art that would be a powerful vehicle to provide unity and vitality for the new America. 7 They failed to realize the inescapable sociological reality that an art of this type assumed that America embodied a unified culture, which, in fact, was not the case. Lacking a tight immigration policy, the country in the early 1900s was unable to maintain the earlier homogeneity, and the influx of aliens between about 1890 to 1920 precluded any desired cohesive population.8 Nevertheless, despite the heterogeneity and the inevitable incompatibilities that defined the times, a common cultural heritage, one that could be mined for vigor of thought, intensity of purpose, and optimism in the individual, human potential, still existed. Out of this cultural context emerged a tradition of early modernist painting that met the demands of the new age. From the beginning, modernist painting differed from that of past eras because it did not afford the same priority to the transposition of an external reality; rather, it was critically concerned with its own means of expression, experimentation, and originality. More interested in the individual's sense of place than m national ideals, pioneers of modernist art in America developed a theoretical basis that allowed individual personality to be the foundation upon which principles, technical processes, and visual images were built. As a native tradition in art theory developed, emphasis was placed upon the artist's ability to develop a personal mode of expression by ordering forms and color into a coherent aesthetic design. Among the most important of the progressive American art theorists in setting forth modernist tenets in design was Denman W. Ross, a Harvard lecturer in art who insisted early on that art was a matter of "terms" and "principles," not taste. An influential figure in early modernist art theory, Ross presented an analytical, formalist position in A Theory of Pure Design (1907). Relating art to nature at the beginning of this pedagogical work, Ross explained: By Design I mean Order in human feeling and thought and in the many and varied activities by which that feeling or that thought is expressed. By Order I mean, particularly, three things,--Harmony, Balance, and Rhythm. These are the principal modes in which Order is revealed in Nature and, through Design, in works of Art. 9 However, even before Ross's treatise, growing numbers of American artists experienced dissatisfaction with the traditional means of depiction, particularly those familiar with new European artistic visions. Artists from this country who had traveled abroad and had occasion to experience the innovative concepts in formal techniques and treatment of subject matter preferred the new forms and ideas, incorporating them into individual artistic statements that were self-expressive but that also demonstrated solutions to pictorial problems in form and color arrangements. In the forefront as an inspiration for change was the art of Paul Cezanne, which, with its vanguard techniques, served as a summons to early modernists to replace orthodox prescriptions in academic painting with 'radical' innovations. A primary purpose of this study is to investigate the means by which Cezanne served as a major factor in the development of early modernism in the painting of the following ten American artists: Maurice Prendergast of Boston (1859-1924); John Marin (1870-1953), Marsden Hartley (1877-1943) and Max Weber (1881­1961) of the Stieglitz Circle in New York; Morton L. Scharnberg (1881­ 1918), Charles Sheeler (1883-1965), and Charles Demuth (1883-1935) from Pennsylvania; the Synchromists Stanton Macdonald-Wright (1890­1973) and Morgan Russell (1886-1953); and independent color-painter Patrick Henry Bruce (1881-1936). All were challenged by his example to pursue originality and inventiveness in their own work and, simultaneously, to alter the tradition of art, and in some cases art writing, in this country. Although they had diverse artistic aims, talents, and complexities of reaction to stylistic demands, the ten major American disciples of Cezanne not only recognized his work as essential to the modem movement, but also used artistic ideas from his art as a springboard for experimentations that led to original artistic idioms. I 0 Each artist responded to Cezanne's original treatment of form (the rendering of volume in objects whose weighty, dense wholes were depicted by an interplay of colored planes, rather than by the standard academic methods of chiaroscuro modelling in relations of light and dark) and recognized his manner of organizing forms as elements in a spatial relationship with each other and with the flat surface of the support. I I Astutely aware of complexities in Cezanne's art, the Americans were quite cautious and undertook intense studies of his painting before attempting to integrate features from his example into their own work. I 2 Some of the American artists were especially drawn to the suggestive nature of Cezanne's late watercolors, the absence of detail and extreme simplification of form enhancing free-play of the imagination.13 Executed with the sparest means possible, the thinly washed contours, glazed color effects, and generous areas of bare paper were sufficient to render both volume and abstract spatial subtleties. Furthermore, the painterly touches of freely transposed sensations in these works reflected the freedom of a modernist vision and, at times, were sufficiently undefined and fragmentary to touch upon the mystical. Spiritual or rational, concrete or abstract, Cezanne's art was an exposition of dualities and polemical properties. Accordingly, the Americans fully appreciated this aspect of his work and recognized in it an equilibrium achieved by synthesis, or integration of dualities, for Cezanne himself fused both intuition (sensation) and the intellect (realization) to bring order to his painting.14 By the purported account of his young friend Joachim Gasquet, Cezanne had once stated in his presence that "I would see myself as the subjective consciousness of that landscape, and my canvas as it[s] objective consciousness." 15 In another instance, Cezanne revealed an awareness of a needed subject/object relationship for his art by stating that "one is neither too scrupulous nor too sincere nor too submissive to nature; but one is more or less master of one's model, and above all, of the means of expression. Get to the heart of what is before you and . . . express yourself as logically as possible." 16 This interaction of subject and object in Cezanne's art was recognized by others. For example, Nabi Symbolist writer Maurice Denis argued that Cezanne's ability to imbue his art with a fusion of inner and outer realities made his "classic picture[s]" possible, pictures which maintain "an equilibrium, a reconciliation of the objective and subjective." 1 7 Cezanne disclosed a desire to balance dual consciousnesses through the means of expression in his art when he wrote that "the feeling for nature" and "emotion will always emerge and win its place in the sun" alongside "a good method of construction."1 8 We see, then, that in the words of discerning admirers and Cezanne's own writings there are implications of an interconnectedness between physical and non-physical worlds with man as the mediating agent, a view that paralleled the literary and philosophical tradition established by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, William James, and George Santayana, four philosophers who emerged as literary pillars of American intellectual culture in the era of early modernist painting. Each of the four men, intrigued with dualities and skilled in writing about concepts of form and touch, favored language that was highly suggestive of form and form characteristics and frequently used words such as "elasticity," "plastic," and "plasticity" in their published works. Differing markedly in approach--from a refined transcendentalism that espoused nature for man's spiritual uplifting to an earthy creed that championed the individual and all else in nature that was rough and commonplace--both Emerson and Whitman were mystics who espoused beliefs centered on a blending of matter and spirit.19 Celebrated by James as a perceiver of pure truth, whose matchless "flavor" arose from a "singularly harmonious combination" 9 of "rich mental gifts" with "individuality," Emerson advocated the transcendental doctrine that the ideal and abstract co-existed with the concrete, that the life of spiritual viewing and reporting were tied to perceptions of the animate world.20 Indeed, in 1836 he wrote that "every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact. Every appearance in nature corresponds to some state of mind, and that state of mind can only be described by presenting that natural appearance as its picture. 11 2 1 Whitman accepted Emerson's vigorous assertion of individuality, but employed his own "cosmic philosophy [which] included not only himself but the whole of humanity" and utilized a new poetic structure of free verse, more pysychological than logical, to bring the whole American scene to life in Leaves of Grass.22 In his epic poem, Whitman treated the 'things' in life as freely interchangable, as being both physical and spiritual manifestations. In accordance with his goal to place the body and the soul on equal ground, Whitman proclaimed that he resisted "anything better than [his] own diversity," stating that "I am the poet of the body IAnd I am the poet of the soul."2 3 A passage from "Starting from Paumanok" in Book II, an addition to the original 1855 edition, clearly delineates Whitman's inclusive vision: I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be the most spiritual poems, And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality, For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul and of immortality. 2 4 Moreover, Whitman, like Emerson, is concerned with form, as evidenced in the main character, or "I," in Leaves of Grass, who symbolizes the common American working man, except that he has an abnormally developed sense of touch.25 Throughout the work, Whitman valorizes the senses of touch and sight by bringing attention to the narrator's physical flesh and form and by invoking sensuous visual images. In his prose Introduction to Leaves of Grass, he writes: Who knows the curious mystery of eyesight? The other senses corroborate themselves, but this is removed from any proof but its own and foreruns the identities of the spiritual world.26 These four New England writers were pioneers of a new vocabulary, one that could communicate the changes occuring in the world and the arts. Curiously, Whitman and Emerson, as well as the other two philosophers, use forms of the terms "elastic" or "plastic" as a means of strengthening the directness of an expression, or of phrasing a concept in more immediate terms. For instance, Whitman in Leaves of Grass refers to youth as "ever-pushed elasticity" and Emerson in 1836 says of man's ability to overpower the forces in nature that ". . . we build a mill in such a position to set the north wind to play upon our instrument, or the elastic force of steam, or the ebb and flow of the sea."27 James, who maintained that the mind can better understand a concept if it is related to a form or object, referred to a clockspring's "elasticity" to indicate its potential movement, to "the elastic quality of this india-rubber band," and to a football in terms of "elasticity, leathery integuement, swift mobility," while Santayana declared that "the elasticity of life is wonderful" and also noted the aesthetic advantage that an "imagination [with) infinite elasticity" made possible.28 Regarding critical discourse on Cezanne, however, the most significant word, commonly used to denote evocative, unique aspects in his painting, was "plastic.0 2 9 Emerson and James frequently invoked the word to describe physical phenomena either in relation to an individual's powers or in association with an individual's awareness of an external reality. Emerson argued that "such is the constitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye, that the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal, give delight in and for themselves. n30 James determined that form was a psychological factor vital for cognition and that tactile perception and "touch images" were essential to mental processes, stating that "the felt object has a plastic reality and outwardness which the imagined object wholly lacks. 0 31 In 1900, Santayana, using similar terminology, stated that Emerson's "mind was endowed with unusual plasticity, with unusual spontaneity and liberty of movement--it was a fairyland of thoughts word to educated Americans, provided specific illumination for various subjects. With its flexibility and accepted connotations serving the best-known American literary icons at the turn of the century so well, "plastic" was ideally suited as an art-critical term for Cezanne's work, especially since such a precedent had already been set by European writers. As portions of the succeeding chapters will demonstrate, not only were most of the ten artists under study in this dissertation well-read individuals acquainted in some degree with the discourse of the four Boston-area philosopher/poets, but in several cases their aesthetic ideologies, particularly regarding Cezanne, were shaped by the writings of these literary figures.3 3 Marsden Hartley, for instance, linked Cezanne to Whitman on several counts: It is the quality of "living-ness" in Cezanne that sends his art to the heights of universality, which is another way of naming the classical vision, or the masterly conception, and brings him together with Whitman as much of the same piece. I have felt the same gift for life in a still-life or a landscape of Cezanne's that I have felt in any of Whitman's best pieces. The element in common with these two exceptional creators is liberation. Both Whitman and Cezanne stand together in the name of one common purpose, freedom from characteristics not one's own. Cezanne's fine landscapes and still-lifes and Whitman's majestic line 1 3 with its gripping imagery are one and the same thing, for it reaches the same height in the mind. 3 4 Just as Cezanne's painting stimulated native modernists to explore artistic idioms, so his works challenged American journalists and authors to develop new approachs to critical writing. In the early years of this century, most American critics faced a virtual roadblock if art was not topographical, narrative, or composed of images depicted according to conventionally observable structures. Handicapped, then, by an undeveloped methodology and a limited terminology, many art writers in this country desperately needed models to discuss Cezanne's new art. Part of the concern for correctness, the quest for examples of structure, and the demand for phraseology in critical writing stemmed from an effort to shore up cultural authority through some viable professional standards. The obvious need for a new formal vocabulary, one that could accommodate ideas centering on Cezanne's vanguard inclinations and raise the level of their discourse in the absence of incisive critical judgment, led many progressive art critics to look to London and to the example of Roger Fry and to Paris, especially to Emile Bernard and Maurice Denis. (It must be noted here that although a number of young French painters, primarily Bernard and Denis, published statements that they claimed Cezanne made to them in conversations or correspondence, this material was not based upon any publications that Cezanne himself authored. The reported words of Cezanne were known to the Americans, but known as "received" information, certainly not obtained from the primary source, but often from second-or third-hand sources. Obviously, such statements allegedly made by Cezanne must be recognized as filtered through the personalities of individuals who actually reported them. This, of course, the early modernist Americans did not do.) A number of American art writers, who were aware of contemporary cultural developments, made attempts to use language based on musical analogy, science, and even the anecdotal, in the service of art, an attempt that continued until around 1910, when a widespread recognition of the prominent plastic values in Cezanne's tactile rendering of form brought some uniformity to discussions of his painting. "Plasticity" quickly became an important term for informed American writers on Cezanne, especially since the flexibility of its connotations was particularly pertinent to his painting. Besides implying pliability and mass, uniquely applicable terms for Cezanne's color variations that express solid, palpable form, "plastic" assumed a descriptive meaning in terms of the spatial relationships of volumetric entities within a single design. Because the modem, open-endedness of the word's connotations addressed new formal ideas while shunning tradition, "plastic" and "plasticity" became integral to a new linguistic base for criticism of Cezanne's art. Cezanne's unorthodox pictorial schemes, issuing challenges to American artists and art writers alike, elicited considerable discourse 1 5 from individuals engaged in the two endeavors. In turn, the interchange hastened the progress of both artists and critics toward modernism. Around the turn of the century, clear instances of precocious trends in native art theories, which were capable of encompassing modernist formalism and the selective principles of design, emerged. Among the most perceptive art writers about Cezanne in the period from 1900 to 1920, those able to approach his work with both practical and theoretical insights, were the American early modernist painters. Their ability to absorb and understand complexities of Cezanne's painting, particularly the concrete and abstract treatment of form, enabled them to write intelligently and with conviction about a subject that most other art critics found exceedingly problematic. With knowledge concerning structural order and balance of formal elements in terms of design, the early modernists, more than even the most conscientious critics, recognized that many of Cezanne's pictorial images represented the perceived solidarity and voluminousness of nature, as well as the tension between the solidarity of the pictorial image and the flat plane of the pigmented picture support. These artists also had a deeper understanding of "plastic" as both a pivotal term that had psychological overtones, in association with the sense of touch, and a reference to subjective feelings evoked by purely formal relationships. In fact, the writings of artists such as Sheeler, Scharnberg, Hartley, and Weber served as important guides for progressive, but 1 6 fledgling, art critics in this country who wanted to deal with modern aspects in Cezanne's art, but who lacked the visual flexibility and analytical ability to do so. Hartley, for example, quickly perceived what he deemed as separate spheres of reality in Cezanne's art, material and immaterial about which he wrote with equal ease. Reflecting on one occasion about Cezanne's solidity of form and about the manner in which the French artist equated "essential reality" with a "solidity of sensation that few could comprehend," Hartley also described a quality beyond the realm of the intellect that he found in the "last work of Cezanne, especially the watercolors which are from my point of view pure mystical expressions...35 Weber, especially, absorbed a sense of the interchangability of spirit and matter in Cezanne's painting, whereas Prendergast, Russell, Macdonald-Wright, and other artists in the group adhered to an approach that was more formally-oriented in a perceptual sense, rather than spiritual or "cosmic" in its emphasis. Considering the relevance of the role that "plastic" played in interpreting Cezanne, I shall, in portions of the succeeding chapters, especially chapter two, address contexts pertinent to this genesis. From an American perspective, the form-related terminology of Emerson, Whitman, and James best exemplifies how "plastic" served literary works that needed to convey a concept of pliability and even, although more rarely, a suggested state of mind. Benefiting from familiarity with these writer's works, Americans were naturally very responsive to criticism or verbal discussions they encountered abroad that linked ideas of "plastic" form or "plastic" design to Cezanne's painting. Having experienced this assimilation in Europe, they returned home ideally suited to develop individual theories on the subject of Cezanne, as is evident in the inventive manner in which they applied "plastic" and "plasticity" to features in Cezanne's art. Such is a major thesis of my discussion, which will focus upon the early modernists' incorporation of this terminology into new methods of understanding and addressing Cezanne's works, an advancement that subsequently changed the American art scene. Before proceeding, however, I must clarify how this dissertation differs from John Rewald's book, Cezanne and America: Dealers, Collectors, Artists and Critics 1891-1921. Although Rewald's comprehensive overview of his subject chronicles various events, as well as activities of indi victuals in New York and Paris, and recounts the general media/journalistic criticism connected with Cezanne's art, he focuses more on people and events than on issues. I shall not attempt to chronicle fully the period in which Cezanne's art offered American artists the means for developing their own modem idiom. Rather, my focus is the intellectual, formal response to Cezanne and the degree to which it was shaped by cultural forces which formed the grounding for perceptions and terminology used by American modernist artists and writers who were inspired by Cezanne's art. American writers of both theoretical and critical texts consistently incorporated the key term "plastic" into their descriptions of the unique qualities in Cezanne's art, literature of native scholars in various disciplines prior to 1910, what I consider "pre-Cezanne" America. The focus of Chapter Three is the American artists' reactions to book illustrations and Paris-made photographs of Cezanne's paintings, to original works by him, and to the most knowledgable European discourse and criticism that addressed his art. Chapter Four elucidates forces within the European and American artistic context that heightened interest in Cezanne and examines the development of a tradition in early modernist art-critical writing by American artists whose experiences in Paris made possible an understanding of Cezanne with which no professional critic in this country could compete. The focus of Chapter Five is an investigation of specific works of art by the ten Americans that clearly indicates their responses to Cezanne's painting. The methodology for this visual study is an examination of the early modernists' responses to motifs in Cezanne's art and aspects of his style. Finally, the dissertation concludes by analyzing Cezanne's place m the American return to ideas of 'classicism' in art following World War I, a reversion to conservative origins for "plastic" sharpened the American artists' enthusiasm for formalist directives discerned in Cezanne's painting. Chapter Two addresses the prominence of "plastic" in the interests that replaced the former drive for experimentation. NCJIFS CHAPTER I 1 William James, "What Pragmatism Means" (1907) in Pragmatism, Bruce Kuklick, ed. and intro. (Indianapolis and Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, 1988): 26. 2 Developments in American art during the nineteenth century receive summary treatment only because they are outside of the major focus of this dissertation. These years were rich, complex ones in the history of this country's art and are important as background for the modem developments that took place in the early twentieth century. During the eighties and nineties, European styles and genres were more pronounced in American art than they had ever been. This was due largely to the importance of American expatriate painters, such as James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903), Mary Cassatt (1844-1926), and John Singer Sargent (1856-1925), and to the influential American schools of artists who had trained in various European cities, the Tonalists, the Boston Barbizon group, and the Impressionists to name a few. All of these artists, including William Merritt Chase (1849-1916), who adopted various painterly techniques and a certain individuality in the technical bravura of his brushwork, were quite comfortable in absorbing European styles but, with the exception of Albert Pinkham Ryder (1847-19170, Thomas Eakins (1844-1916), and Winslow Homer (1836-1910), their eclecticism was limited to an ability to create a version of a particular imported style. In America, the ability to convert ideas from European artists such as Cezanne into original artistic statements did not come until the first two decades of the twentieth century. As Matthew Baigell phrased it, "there were no homegrown Cezannes." See Baigell, A Concise History of American Painting and Sculpture (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1984): 125. For coverage of American art in the nineteenth century, see Barbara Novak, American Painting of the Nineteenth Century (New York: Harper & Row, 1980); Peter Bermingham, American Art in the Barbizon Mood, exh. cat. (Washington, D. C.: National Collection of Fine Arts, Smithsonian Institution Press, 1975); Wanda M. Com, The Color of Mood: American Tonalism. 1880-1910, exh. cat. (San Francisco: M. H. de Young Memorial Museum, 1972); Michael Quick, American Expatriate Painters of the Late Nineteenth Centui:y, exh. cat. (Dayton: Dayton Art Institute of Ohio, 1976); William H. Gerdts, Diana D. Sweet, and Robert R. Preato, Tonalism: An American Experience, exh. cat. (New York: Grand Central Art Galleries, Art Education Association, 1982); and William H. Gerdts, American Impressionism (New York: Abbeville Press, 1984). Instructive texts in American art of the later nineteenth century include the following: Lois Marie Fink and Joshua C. Taylor, Academy: The Academic Tradition in American Art, exh. cat. (Washington, D. C.: National Collection of Fine Arts, The Smithsonian Press, 1975); Part II in Fink's American Art at the Nineteenth-Century Paris Salons, exh. cat. (Washington, D. C.: National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Cambridge University Press, 1990); and Novak's "Introduction: Nature's Art" in The Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection: Nineteenth-Century American Painting (London: Sotheby's Publications, 1986): 11-40. 3 Theodore E. Stebbins, Jr., "International Styles" in A New World: Masterpieces of American Painting 1760-1910, exh. cat. (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1983): 144-5. 4 The phrase "genteel tradition" was coined in 1911 by George Santayana, American cultural critic, relativist philosopher, and professor at Harvard University. He used the phrase in reference to the inherited, imported traditions in both culture and philosophy that represented outworn German idealist-inspired systems of belief and thought. In a lecture that he delivered in California in 1911 , "The Genteel Tradition in Philosophy," Santayana sounded a severe warning of incumbent problems sure to ensue in America because of what he saw as a split mentality in the country: "One a survival of the beliefs and standards of the fathers, the other an expression of the instincts, practice, and discoveries of the younger generations. . . . The one is all aggressive enterprise; the other is all genteel tradition." In their separateness, according to Santayana, they were creating a cultural void, producing a nation ultimately uninterested in the freedom of the individual to explore both truth and self-expression. See "The Genteel Tradition in Philosophy" (1911) in Selected Critical Writin!!s of George S antay an a, Norman Henfry, ed., vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968): 86. 5 Richard M. Cook and Richard Ruland, "American Literature, 1910-1930: A Bibliographic Essay of Criticism and Scholarship," American Studies International 22, no. 1 (April 1984): 33. 6 Henry Adams, "Chapter XXXV, 'Nunc Age"'(1905) in The Education of Henry Adams (1918; Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company and Cambridge: The Riverside Press, 1961): 499. Brian O'Dougherty also makes reference 2 I to this chapter by Adams in "The Silent Decade, 1900-1910," Art in America 61, no. 4 (July-August, 1973): 32. Adams (1838-1918), a member of the famous dynasty that included John Adams and John Quincy Adams, had also been a Harvard professor in the 1870s. According to D. W. Brogan in the "Introduction" to The Education of Henry Adams. "[Adams's) report on the world as he saw it, felt it, resented it, is the report of an artist," p. vi. 7 In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, questions of nationalism and self-identification were tightly interwoven with concerns that art should become an adjunct to nationhood in the aftermath of the Civil War, and, hence, concentrate on images of American life and landscapes. This inseparable admixture characterized opinions of art patrons, artists, and critics alike. For example, Sadakichi Hartmann (1867-1944), an insightful albeit controversial art and photography critic and advocate of modern art, was in the 1890s a crusader for American art as an "accessory to nationhood." See Jane Calhoun Weaver, ed. Sadakichi Hartmann. Critical Modernist: Collected Art Writin&s (Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford: University of California Press, 1991): 12-14; Sadakichi Hartmann, "A National American Art," The Art Critic 1, no. 3 (March 1894): 45-49, rpt. in Weaver, Hartmann. Modernist, pp. 68-76. Other articles of the period that reveal the assessment of art in nationalistic terms can be found in The Craftsman magazine, a major shaper of the Arts and Crafts ideology in America from 1901 until 1916. Two pieces by Giles Edgerton are particularly instructive: "The Younger American Painters: Are They Creating a National Art?" The Craftsman 13 (February 1908): 519-23; and "American Painters of Outdoors: Their Rank and Their Success," The Craftsman 16 (June 1909): 280-84. 8 T. J. Jackson Lears, No Place of Grace: Antimodernism and the Transformation of American Culture 1880-1920 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1981): 206-7. See also Robert Brandfon, "The Metamorphosis of American Progressivism," in Over Here: Modernism. The First Exile 1914-1919. exh cat. (Providence, R. I. : David Winton Bell Gallery, Brown University, 1989): 2. 9 Denman Ross, "The Meaning of Design," in A Theory of Pure Design (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1907): 1. Ross believed that painting was a scientific practice that must be thoroughly understood and mastered before it could be successfully executed. But once the painter knew the principles of his art, his expression could be "intensely emotional and personal or it may be severely intellectual with nothing personal in it." See Denman W. Ross, On Drawin& and Painting (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1912): 9. 10 The twenty-year period under consideration is not intended to be a closed chronological framework but an open-ended one. There was no single event that predicated 1900 as the year to begin this study nor 1920 as the year to end it; however, it is worth noting certain occurrences that took place in these two demarcative years. In artistic affairs, Paris in 1900 staged the Exposition Universelle, featuring a "Retrospective Exhibition of French Art from 1800-1889." It included three paintings by Cezanne, listed in the catalogue as: no. 86, Nature morte; fruits (a M. Vau); no. 87, Paysage (a M. Pellerin); and no. 88, Mon Jardin (a M. Vollard). See Modem Art jn Paris. 1855 to 1900, selected and organ. by Theodore Reff, vol. 1900a, p. 196. Also in 1900, John Ruskin, the English critic and art theorist, died, and Maurice Prendergast first exhibited his work at the Macbeth Gallery in New York, a city whose "modernity in 1900 was a historical fact," according to Wanda Corn in "The New New York," Art in America 61, no. 4 (July-August 1973): 59. In 1920, the Montross Gallery in New York held an important exhibition of watercolors by Cezanne, and, as cited in John Rewald, Cezanne and America: Dealers. Collectors. Artists and Critics 1891-1921, an anonymous reviewer of the show extended a generous tribute to the artist: "'Cezanne was a genius in organization, that has been admitted so often in recent years that already it has become a truism; he was the most plastic of painters, that also has been known for a generation, and that he is a master in the use of his materials'" (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989): 311. In 1920 in Venice, the French section of the Biennale featured almost thirty paintings by Cezanne, loaned from the collections of Camille Pissarro, Egisto Fabbri, and Charles Loeser, a Harvard graduate and former student of William James. In December of the same year, a Paris journal, L'Amour de l'Art, contained six illustrated articles on Cezanne in a single issue. 11 For an excellent, extended postulation of Cezanne's color modeling, see Roger Fry's "Plastic Colour," in Transformations (London: Chatto & Windus, 1926): 213-24. 12 I am cautious about the use of "influence" to describe the effect of Cezanne's art upon the Americans. The prejudices associated with connotations of "influence" are clearly attended to by Michael Baxandall in Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Explanation of Pictures (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1985): 58-62. Baxandall notes that connecting the art of one artist to another in terms of influence "blunts thought by impoverishing the means of differentiation" (p. 59). 13 See John Rewald's Catalogue Raisonne: Paul Cezanne. The Watercolors (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1983) for a comprehensive discussion of Cezanne's watercolors; note especially the Introduction, pp. 19-40. 14 The term "synthesis" herein connotes simply the activity of merging or fusing of parts, in this case dualities. For excellent scholarship concerning the nuances of interpretations regarding "synthesis" as a pivotal word in late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century French Symbolist art criticism, refer to Richard Shiff, Cezanne and the End of Impressionism (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1984): 5-8, esp. 7; also consult Patricia T. Mathews, "G.-Albert Aurier's Symbolist Art Theory and Criticism" (Ph.D. diss.: University of North Carolina, 1984): Chapter V. Mathews refers the reader to Maurice Denis's fuller definition of the term in his article "Paul Cezanne" published in L 'Occident in 1907, as cited in Herschel B. Chipp, ed. Theories of Modem Art. A Source Book by Artists and Critics (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1968): 105. In his article of 1907, Denis clarifies the meaning of synthesis in the context of French Symbolist art as "not necessarily mean[ing] simplification in the sense of suppression of parts of the object; it is simplifying in the sense of rendering intelligible. It is, in short, creating a hierarchy: submitting each picture to a single rhythm, to a dominant; sacrificing, subordinating-generalizing" (Maurice Denis, "Cezanne--11," trans. Roger Fry, Burlington Magazine 16, no. 83 [February 1910]: 279). According to Denis, Cezanne performed a synthesis in his art by knowing how to elucidate and condense his impressions (p. 279). I introduce the issue of "synthesis" because American usage of the term in the context of early modernist art and criticism was different from the French emphasis of it as "rendering intelligible." In this country, in the first two decades of this century, synthesis, although occasionally connoting a fusing of subject and object as in French Symbolist theory, was most often used in a context of formal art values. Synthesis, then, most typically in America meant an absorption of features or parts from different art sources, the result of which was a new, modern product. The idea of hierarchy was not critical in the simpler American meaning for 'synthesis.' 15 Joachim Gasquet's Cezanne. A Memoir with Conversations, trans. Christopher Pemberton, Preface by John Rewald, and Intro. by Richard Shiff (London: Thames and Hudson Ltd., 1991): 150. On another occasion, Cezanne made the following remark to Gasquet, "An art without feeling is no art at all!" (Gasquet's Cezanne, p. 124). l6 Letter from Cezanne to French Nabi Symbolist Emile Bernard, 26 May 1904, cited in Paul Cezanne Letters, John Rewald, ed., Marguerite Kay, trans. (New York: Hacker Art Books, Inc., 1976): 303-4. 17 Maurice Denis, "Cezanne--I," trans. Fry, Burlington Magazine 16, no. 82 (January 1910): 213. For scholarship concerning the importance of an integration of perceiving subject (mind) and perceived object (matter) in a Symbolist context, see Shiff, "The Subject/Object Distinction, Critical Evaluation, and Technical Procedure" in Cezanne and the End of Impressionism, pp. 27-38. 1 8 Letter from Cezanne to Charles Camion, 9 December 1904 in hY..l Cezanne Letters, Rewald, ed., p 309. 1 9 George Santayana wrote that James "was a mystic . . . comparable to Rousseau and to Walt Whitman (Character & Opinion in the United States [New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1920]: 94). Linda Dalrymple Henderson writes that for American artists Max Weber and Marsden Hartley, the writings of Englishman Edward Carpenter (1844-1929) were rich sources on the subject of mystical monism and "cosmic consciousness" ("Mysticism as the 'Tie That Binds': The Case of Edward Carpenter and Modernism," Art Journal 46, no. 1 [Spring 1987]: 29-37). Her article elucidates how the monist fusion of spirit and matter described in Carpenter's Art of Creation (1904) inspired Max Weber in his famous article "The Fourth Dimension from a Plastic Point of View," which Stieglitz published in Camera Work no. 31 (July 1910): 25. Henderson also points out the similar spiritual perspectives in the thought of William James and Carpenter with regard to the "vision of unity in cosmic consciousness" (p. 33), as well as Fry's apparent receptiveness to Carpenter's mystical philosophy (p. 30). 20 William James, "Address at the Emerson Centenary in Concord," in Memories and Studies (London and New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1912): 20. (This address was delivered at the Centenary of the Birth of Emerson in Concord, May 25, 1903.) In this address, James also noted that Emerson's beliefs were only one half of his genius: "Emerson's mission culminated in his style, and if we must define him in one word, we have to call him Artist. He was an artist whose medium was verbal and who wrought in spiritual material" (p. 22). For a discussion of James's opinion of Emerson's doctrines, see Frederic I. Carpenter, "William James and Emerson," in On Emerson: The Best from American Literature, Edwin H. Cady and Louis J. Budd, eds. (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1988): 41-61. 21 Emerson, "Nature," in The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Brooks Atkinson, ed. and intro. (New York: Random House for The Modem Library, 1950): 15. 22 George W. Cronym, "The Idealism of the Real: Claude Monet and Walt Whitman," The Columbia Monthly 5, no. 7 (May 1908): 244; See Malcolm Cowley's Introduction, p. xvi, in Walt Whitman's LEAVES OF GRASS. The First 0855) Edition (New York: The Penguin Classics, 1986). For a recent depiction of Leaves of Grass as an embodiment of American character and landscape, see "Whitman's Transformed Eye" in Miles Orvell's The Real Thing. Imitation and Authenticity in American Culture. 1880-1940 (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1989): 3-29. 23"Song of Myself' in LEAVES OF GRASS. The First 0855) Edition, verse 16, p. 40.; "Song of Myself," verse 21, p. 44. 24 Leaves Of Grass-Comprising All The Poems Written By Walt Whitman Following The Arrangement of the Edition of 1891-1892 (New York: Random House, Inc., 1930; 400 copies printed by Edwin and Robert Grabhorn of San Francisco, Copy Number 86): 15. 25 Malcolm Cowley, "Introduction" to LEAVES OF GRASS. The First 0855) Edition p. xv. 26 Ibid, p. 9. 27 Ibid, p. 78. Italics mine.; Emerson, "Art" in The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson. 1836-1838, vol. 2, Stephen E. Whicher, Robert E. Spiller and Wallace E. Williams, eds. (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1964): 45. Italics mine. 28 William James, "Pragmatism's Conception of Truth" in Pragmatism, p. 92; William James, "Discrimination and Comparison" in The Principles of Psychology, 2 vols. (1890; New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1950): I: 528; James, "Association," in The Principles, vol. 1, p. 579. Italics mine. Santayana, Preface to Character and Opinion in the United States, p. vii; and in The Sense of Beauty. Being the Outline of Aesthetic Theory (1896; New York: Dover publications, 1955): 99. Ironically, in 1907, Maurice Denis had made the remark that "the language of the Masters" with its "elasticity of syntax" was important to poets as well as to painters like Cezanne (Maurice Denis, "Cezanne--1," p. 214). 29 The Oxford English Dictionary (QED), second ed., prepared by J. A. Simpson and E. S. C. Weiner, defines "plastic" as an adjective that refers to "giving form to a yielding material" and/or that pertains to "immaterial things, conditions, or forms, aesthetic or intellectual conceptions, literary productions, etc" (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989): I: 988. OED gives dates as early as the 1600s for both material and immaterial meanings of "plastic" in British literature. In the same publication, the noun "plasticity," used as early as 1782 by a British author, means: (1) "Capacity for being moulded or undergoing a permanent change in shape; (2) In a biological sense, "Adaptability of an organism to changes in its environment" (p. 990). In A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles. Sir James A. H. Murray, ed., there are six major headings that give definitions for 'plastic': 1. Characterized by moulding, shaping, modelling, fashioning, or g1vmg form to a yielding material . . . capable of shaping or moulding formless matter. 2. Causing the growth or production of natural forms. . . . 3. In reference to immaterial things, conditions, or forms, aesthetic or intellectual conceptions. . 4. Pertaining to, or connected with, or characteristic of moulding or modelling. . . . 5. Susceptible of being moulded or shaped. 6. Of immaterial things and conditions: Capable of being moulded, fashioned, modified, or impressed; impressionable, pliable; susceptible to influence, pliant, supple, flexible. (Oxford: At The Clarendon Press, 1909): 7: 959 The same six headings also appeared in the 1989 publication. 30 Emerson, "Nature" in The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. and intro. Brooks Atkinson (New York: Random House for The Modem Library, 1950): 9. The italics are Emerson's. The italics for "plastic" are mine. 31 James, "Imagination" in The Principles, vol. 2, p. 70. Italics mine. 32 George Santayana, "Emerson" (1900) in Emerson. A Collection of Critical Essays, Milton R. Konwitz and Stephen E. Whicher, eds. (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1962): 32. Italics mine. Santayana also assessed aesthetic values as those endowed with a sense of form, which he expains in "Plastic Construction" (ch. 7) and "Plastic Representation" (ch. 8) in Reason in Art (1905; New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1982): 116-65. 3 3 Matthew Baigell notes Hartley's keen interest in Whitman in "Early Twentieth-Century American Art," Walt Whitman and the Visual Arts, Geoffrey M. Sill and Roberta K. Tarbell, eds. (New Brunswick, N. J.: Rutgers University Press, 1992): 132-3. Townsend Ludington writes that Hartley found important insights on truth and the power of the imagination in Santayana (Marsden Hartley. The Biography of an American Artist [Boston, Toronto, London: Little, Brown and Company, 1992]: 194). 34 Marsden Hartley, "Whitman and Cezanne" in Adventures in the Arts (1921; New York: Hacker Art Books, 1972): 34, 35-6. Paul M. Laporte compares the ways in which Whitman and Cezanne looked to the past for lessons to be learned ("Cezanne and Whitman," Magazine of Art 37, no. 6 (October 1944): 223-27. 35 Marsden Hartley, "America As Landscape," El Palacio 5, no. 21 (December 21, 1918 ): 340; Marsden Hartley, from a letter written in Berlin, September 13, 1913, to his sponsor Alfred Stieglitz in New York (Alfred Stieglitz Archive, Collection of American Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, hereafter cited as A. S. A., Yale). Stieglitz was proprietor of "The Little Galleries of the Secession," known also as "291," where modern European art was first shown in America beginning in 1908. CHAPTER II ADVANCED CONCEPTS AND ANEW TERMINOLOOY: AMERICAN FOUNDATIONS FOR UNDERSTANDING AND DEFINING cEzANNE'S MODERN ART Throughout the period from 1900 to 1920, the perception of modernism, specifically as it applied to art, had neither fixed boundaries nor a clear definition that encompassed its manifold meanings. Rather than deriving from a linear, historical basis of thought in American literature and art theory, concepts of what constituted modernity in art had no cultural precedent and no pre-established principles other than discontinuity from the past. As a result, when applied to art, the term caused considerable confusion until the relationship between Cezanne and modernism was established and, finally, provided a common frame of reference. Before this transpired, however, the idea persisted that modernism in art, particularly the aspects of originality and individuality in creative expressions, constituted change and a distinct discontinuity from nineteenth-century academic principles. I For instance, in 1906, Charles Caffin interpreted modem American painting as a response to foreign influences, as "an eclectic art, the product of many European ideals, individually assimilated so that the result is original. "2 In another vein, gallery owner N.E. Montross described 28 modem painters as innovators with "something fresh to say."3 In 1916, Frederick James Gregg suggested that modem artists wanted to "put something new into the world, something . . . fresh, individual, and [inspired by] the need of inner vision and unhampered self­expression. "4 In one case, a progressive artist/writer boldly linked the free individual expression of Cezanne with Emerson in a positive proposal that "space" is the "fundamental term of modem art. "5 Further, he stated that space, as a "plastic quality . Iives in the primitives. 11 6 The most significant identifying feature of modernism, indeed its essence, was the ceaseless, relentless change, the insistence upon a liberation from the restrictions of the existing order--an analogue to the fundamental changes that the nation was undergoing at the beginning of the century.7 To keep the momentum in modernity highly charged, change was essential: without it there could be no break-up of authority and/or rejection of the old notion of universal beauty. And, certainly, the 'release' that artists linked to modernity paralleled the dynamic flow of thought in other fields, such as Freud's exploration of the unconscious. The drive for change was not completely free of misgivings, however, as Henry Adams demonstrated in America and the French poet and critic Charles Baudelaire in November 1863 indicated in his statement, "By 'modernity' I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and immutable...g Likewise, certain inherent polemics in the modern phenomenon evoked a hesitancy, even a closure, to the new art, as evidenced in the American reactionary critic F. Wellington Ruckstuhl's remark "Modernism is a spiritual disease."9 One area of agreement among the pioneer modernists, albeit often without a true consistency of thought or emphasis, was the unfailing focus on some aspect of Cezanne's art which served as a source for both challenge and inspiration. Indeed, no two individuals reacted in the same manner to Cezanne's still-life oil paintings, for example, or to landscape watercolors of Mont Sainte-Victoire. The subjective nature of modern art did not lend itself to a common consensus, for no matter how objective the intent the creative expression could not be entirely divorced from an individual's perceptions and sentiments. An example of this awareness is evident in the words of artist and writer Jennings Tofel, who understood modern art as the expression of an artist's individual temperament or "fresh projections of the soul." 1 O "Each thing has a soul that suffices it," he wrote, "[and] the modern conscience, this fresh fascination and consciousness of a living soul in matter, is a faith."11 He realized, too, the necessity of change if the artist was to express an "individual temperament."12 His essay "Modern Consciousness," which asks, "What mechanism shall enflame the painter's mind to see new visions," and answers, "It is faith," opens with a focus on "change," "relations," and "form": 3 1 The new expression in art, correctly called modernism, has grown out of the need for a change of vision. The various experiments in color and line relations are but the handmaiden to that new vision. A new vision impels of itself new qualities of form. Indeed the substance holds its own form. 1 3 Here is but one expression of modernism in art, extreme in its subjectivity and attempt to assert a spiritual dimension to changes. But it was this subjective edge, this drive to answer to dramatic change and satisfy a need for flexibility and freedom from routine expectations that kept modem art from fitting into any easily defined or fully coherent boundaries. At the same time, many advocates of modernism, because it was so intensely aesthetic in its demands, realized an important consistency by looking to a new order in the daring artistic 'process' that Cezanne had defiantly established. Common Ground: Cezanne as Proi:enitor and Exemplar of Modem Although no consensus of opinion concerning the parameters for modernism in art existed, either here or abroad, artists and critics alike proclaimed Cezanne as the precursor of a new movement and considered his art as its definitive example. By the time the ten artists of this study reached Paris, Cezanne's status as harbinger of modem art had been well established, largely by French Nabis who had worked with Paul Gauguin in Brittany and knew that he admired and collected paintings by Cezanne.14 Symbolist Emile Bernard, a follower of Gauguin and active as an artist in his circle in Pont A ven during the years 1889­90, knew Cezanne personally .15 In his earliest publication on Cezanne, Bernard wrote about a specific painting and stated that "this canvas [very likely Portrait de Madame Cezanne, 1872-7 (fig. 1)) seems to me like one of the greatest attempts of modem art in the direction of classical beauty." 16 In another instance, Nabi Paul Serusier linked "modern" and "plastic" with Cezanne when he observed in 1905 that Cezanne created a language "at last by purely plastic means," and that "others will come--clever chefs, to accommodate his legacy to the modern sources [but he) will have furnished the model." 1 7 A contemporary of Bernard and Serusier, Nabi Maurice Denis helped to establish Cezanne as the premier artist of a new movement by declaring that he "rejuvenated modem art. He is the Poussin of Impressionism."l 8 Moreover, Denis argued, However much one admires Manet's La Serre or Renoir's En/ants Berard or the admirable landscapes of Monet or Sisley, the presence of Cezanne makes one assimilate them (unjustly, it is true, but by the force of contrast) to the generality of modem productions: on the contrary the pictures of Cezanne seem like works of another period, no less refined but more robust than the most vigorous efforts of the Impressionists. I 9 In a similar vein, another European, the well-known British critic Roger Fry, claimed that the Post-Impressionists who strove for "the individuality of the artist to find completer self-expression" were led by Cezanne.20 He also credited Cezanne with raising "modem art" to a "re-valuation of the visual. . He [Cezanne] discovered distortions and ruthless simplifications of natural form, which allowed the fundamental elements of design--the echo of human need--to reappear in his designs."2 1 The recognition of Cezanne's preeminence quickly spread from the continent to the United States. As early as 1899, expatriate Egisto Fabbri, one of the first Americans to associate Cezanne with modem art, wrote to the French master regarding the "aristocratic and austere beauty" of his paintings, which he contended "represent what is the most noble in modern an."22 Fabbri's insights into the unique and "modem" qualities of Cezanne's art were quickly followed by those of other eminent American artists and critics, among them Walter Pach, who was one of the first to elaborate upon Cezanne's effect upon important French artists. Pach noted in 1908, for instance, that Monet not only admired Cezanne and possessed pictures by him but "cared highly for them long before the world at large did."23 And a few months later, in the second article on Cezanne published in an American magazine, Pach pointed to Cezanne's "great aesthetic quality--Form . his passion for form as a pure abstract quality. . . , " and the paintings which had "modem clarity of tone . . . [and] splendid feeling for the broad and simple planes into which the genius knows how to organize the infinitude of little tints and spots that are seen from nature. "24 Five years later, Pach deemed Cezanne the "greatest master of modem times," pronouncing that "the grandeur of the man's spirit is seen in his grave and profound design . . . which includes not only the general masses of the picture, but every finger's breadth and depth of it."2 5 Max Weber, arguably the most articulate art writer among the group of ten early modernists in this study, also attested to Cezanne's stature in modem art and, further, set precedents for Americans in 1910 by proclaiming that among the "modern painter-colorists," Cezanne painted "grey colored forms" that ranked as "a masterpiece."26 And in the same year, Charles Caffin noted Cezanne's alignment with modem art, when he stated, "It is not light itself but color, receiving its full expression from the action of light, that he would interpret. In this, the modem artist is proving himself a follower of Paul Cezanne."27 Caffin reinforced his opinion on Cezanne and modem art in his book The Story of French Painting (1911), in which he argued that modem painting would have to take on "a more constructive kind of composition which should replace the fugitive effects with those of bulk and permanence," such as one saw in the work of Cezanne if "it [were] ever to take rank not only with the great art of the past but also with the great works of the present in other departments of civilization. "2 8 A slight variation of this perspective was that of American critic Willard H. Wright, who contended, "Modem art began with Delacroix. . The second modem cycle began with Cezanne. "2 9 Wright also believed that "Cezanne, judged either as a theorist or as an achiever, is the pre-eminent figure in modem art. Purely as a painter he is the greatest the world has produced...3 0 Within a few years, the popular press pronouncements of Cezanne as modern became commonplace. Among them was an enthusiastic review of Cezanne's watercolors that declared him to be "the most adored of the prophets of modem art." The critic continued, The great Cezanne's [sic], for one very sound excuse, have all been gobbled up by those particularly avid collectors to whom he is a solitary divinity, and by those anxious gatherers of the truly modem, whose collections would be incomplete without him. There is no doubt in my mind, there can be no doubt in anybody's mind, that Cezanne is one of the mightiest forces that have entered the field of art and disrupted its existing traditions.3 1 Another instance was a press announcement the following year, in which the reviewer wrote concerning Cezanne's paintings that "drawing with color is that part of his program which most interests the modem artist. .. 3 2 Although many artists and critics easily noted the association between Cezanne and modernism in art, they seldom did so in a consistent manner, a phenomenon that testifies to the flexible, open-ended nature of "modern" art and the aspects of Cezanne's painting that were of a similar, undefined quality. For instance, early modernist Morgan Russell, at a time when he was painting his abstract "Synchromies," assessed Cezanne's modernism based on his manipulation of form for the sake of composition. In an unpublished notebook, dated 1915-1916, Russell noted, The piquant deformations of Cezanne's nudes and faces--this working with unconsciousness of the object's profile results in the analysis of [the] composition becoming unexpected but pervading the work, [and] growing on one. Renoir at a certain period was modem in the Cezanne sense, but reverted in later life to the "object" mentality--[there was a] sort of similarity between him [Renoir] and old masters where a happy medium was struck between the two cares [exact representation of the object/ preoccupation with composition]--Cezanne was decidedly the opposite. 3 3 Hartley, who paired Cezanne with Whitman in forming a "gateway for our modern esthetic development," saw the relationship in another sense.34 He asserted that "the idea of modernity is but a new attachment to things universal--[whereas] in the art of the ordinary there is the sense of devotion. Boehme was a devotional ordinary--Cezanne and Rousseau also...3 5 Nevertheless, although the analyses were clearly divergent, Russell's more practical than Hartley's intuitive and philosophical theorizing, both clearly positioned Cezanne as pivotal to an understanding of modern art. The attributes of art most commonly understood as being distinctly modernist--originality; simplicity and flexibility of form; liberation from existing traditions; and unhampered self-expression--were salient characteristics of Cezanne's art. Whether from a formalist base, which focused on the physical qualities in painting, or from a more subjective stance, which was more inclined to emphasize the inner self and spiritual states of mind, Cezanne was considered the definitive exemplar of modernist standards. In fact, analyses such as that put forth by art critic W. D. MacColl in an essay of 1912 established Cezanne as the source of a "formulary of modem art" that applied as well to the American Weber. MacColl argued, When we think of the great discoveries of the 19th century which have served not only to decorate human life, but to enrich this human spirit, it is not first off to the art of painting that we shall turn. No branch of learning was so neglected, or with a few exceptions perhaps, so sterile as this. The very application of the notion of learning, of study and research to art as a science and as a philosohy of life seems to many strange. It was to redeem this error that PAUL CEZANNE founded the resolution of making painting, as he said, like the art of the museums: expressive of what is permanent in life and art, and founded on certain realizable facts, as well as on personal, emotional ideals. To sit down before fact as a little child, be prepared to give up every pre-conceived notion, follow humbly wherever and to whatever abysses Nature leads, or you shall learn nothing--that formulary of the best modern thinkers has happily become the formulary of modern art. In such a relationship Max Weber shows here the fruits of his endeavor.3 6 By 1912, the association between Cezanne and modernism was firmly entrenched in the aesthetic perspectives of knowledgable American artists and critics, but that was only the beginning. Growing numbers of pioneering modernists underscored the uniqueness of Cezanne's "modernity" by emphasizing the "plastic" features in his painting. In April 1910, Caffin linked Cezanne, plastic, and modem art together in his claim that "instead of a representation of th.e obvious facts . . . [Cezanne] evoked from the latter an abstract realization of the significance of plasticity and construction; moreover color. For Cezanne has started the modern painter on a new use of color."3 7 The unusual "plastic" aspect of Cezanne's form (achieved by color modelling through contrasts of hue rather than value), and form relationships, not only placed him foremost in the artistic realm of modernity but, on the basis of the originality and the impact this "plastic" technique would have on modem art, assured his position there. Indeed, in 1918, Sheldon Cheney coupled the whole phenomenon of modern art, not just Cezanne's work, with the term "plasticity." He stated, As the modem development has closed phase after phase, stripping art to essentials, discarding photographic imitation, narrative interest, surface ornament, it brought painting and sculpture constantly closer to the aesthetic purity of music and dance. It has even largely substituted motion, plasticity, or flowing form, for those more obvious elements which centuries of practice and generations of dogmatic criticism had hallowed as the true aims of art.3 8 The Emergence of Distinguishing Terms: "Plastic" and "Plasticity" During the time that Cezanne's work was a dominant avant-garde force in this country, the terms "plastic" and "plasticity" recurred in countless reviews, essays, catalogue forewords, and analyses or descriptions of the French modern master's art. Whether justifying Cezanne to a doubting public or interpreting attributes of his art to admirers, modernist artists and critics depended upon "plastic" and "plasticity" to address intrinsic characteristics in Cezanne's art. Interestingly, the definitions of "plastic" have changed very little from Cezanne's time to the present. Then, as today, "plastic" had both a material and an immaterial meaning. American Association of "Plastic" with Cezanne Of the ten early modernists greatly effected by Cezanne, Weber, probably more than the others, significantly expanded uses and connotations of "plastic" in art critical usage, when he applied "plastic" to Cezanne's forms to describe them as entities possessing "the three material dimensions" of matter, but capable of "reaching out" to the mystical, spatial "fourth dimension," which is felt.39 Morton Scharnberg also expanded the sense of "plastic" when he used Cezanne as an example to explain that a picture is merely reproductive, whereas a work of art is a translation of pleasurable sensations from nature into a "plastic expression, [the] artist thereby creating a work of art which presents this pleasure in plastic form...40 Although he acknowledged that the "plastic form" itself is matter, Scharnberg added a matter/spirit element that implied that the inspiration for a material form sprang from an immaterial, subjective nature. Nonetheless, in the same article, Scharnberg suggested that Cezanne's "plastic forms," possessing a weight and volume, pertained to a "design in a fourth dimension," a material reality, rather than some higher dimension associated with an immaterial reality, as Weber understood it.4 1 In the same year as Schamberg's article (1913), yet another critic wrote of Cezanne's paintings in terms of "designs of closely organized planes, plastically treated, in which color is an integral factor. . ..4 2 Even more to the point, Russell, like Scharnberg, used "plastic" in a very physical sense and directly connected the term to Cezanne. In a notebook dated 1915, he explained the need "to paint with the same plastic knowledge with which you sculpt," and then mentions the "peculiar deformations used for plastic purposes by Cezanne...4 3 Likewise, Macdonald-Wright, co-founder with Russell of Synchromism, the first American avant-garde movement in art, assigned his abstract Synchromies a "plastic base" and claimed that "the body of my painting stems from Cezanne."44 As more and more writers used the terms "plastic" and "plasticity," the connotations broadened. The usages were usually meant to convey the physical, that which is rooted in matter, but at times carried nonphysical assumptions, and, occasionally, they overlapped as they tended to do in Caffin's art criticism. On the subject of Cezanne's divesting form of accidental associations, Caffin wrote that "he [Cezanne] not only simplifies form but renders its plasticity," his paintings stimulating the imagination by the "significance of plasticity and construction" in them rather than "a representation of obvious facts ... 45 Plainly, the complexity and modernity of Cezanne's art, and the need for flexibility in assimilating and writing about it, were factors that made selecting the proper diction to discuss his painting an exacting exercise. Although the two terms commonly referred to unique features in Cezanne's art, the connotations of "plastic" were too varied to suggest that a consensus of response to Cezanne's art actually existed, and the physical aspects of Cezanne's form were not always distinguished from the immaterial realm. Expansion of Connotations: Tactility and Plasticity In American usage, "plastic" and "plasticity" were often associated with tactility. The artists and critics most noted for interpreting Cezanne's modernity focused on the "plastic" features in his painting, especially in terms of form as a concrete design element, and as such often reflective of or conducive to immaterial conditions and states of mind. The emphasis on Cezanne's "plastic" form and its potential beyond a purely physical meaning in no way decreased the appeal that his treatment of form offered to sensate perception. Instead, this perception of material form was enhanced by an interest in the prominence of tactile surface qualities and texture in Cezanne's paintings, the patches of paint on the canvas projecting a two-fold perception of tactility: that of textural surface properties characteristic of the object represented in terms of illusionism and that of the physical oil substance projecting, purely as a material medium, in a third dimension from the two-dimensional plane of the support.4 6 Likewise, in the ten American artists' writings, the sense of pliable, volumetric matter or the plasticity of Cezanne's forms was often linked to the tactile properties of his forms. Referring specifically to the tactility in Cezanne's paintings, Russell wrote in 1910 that "all [Cezanne's] colors" are "translations of one and the same light . [which] solves the problem of values, color values, of everything-­light--feel form if you will just paint light. ,,4 7 Also revealing are fragments of notes Russell recorded between 1909 and 1910 in a notebook with "BERENSON" written on the cover. He recorded that "tactile values refer to sources of life-enhancement such as volume, bulk, inner substance and texture."48 Russell specifies "Botticelli's Venus" as an image with appeal because the "tactile imagination [is] roused to keen activity. . . , " but states that tactile values are "not possessed of all plasticity [unless] they can be translated to values of movement. ,,4 9 Moreover, the interrelationship between plasticity and tactility applied to Cezanne's watercolors in which the fluidity and movement in washes of color set beside areas of exposed paper amplified textural effects. The viewer, in experiencing Cezanne's placement of the physical color medium next to the exposed material, was closely involved with, even committed to, the dual appeal to sensate nuclei of sight and touch. Weber expounded upon his reaction to the plastic and tactile features in watercolors by Cezanne, when in 1916 he claimed that Cezanne "succeeds to a rare degree in making the static to vibrate," the sensation of movement psychologically paramount to tactile responses.SO In the same essay, Weber called attention to the "marvelous, concrete and poetic" nature of the works and stated that "in these watercolors can be seen and felt his [Cezanne's) power of synthesis in transforming the chaotic into the purely architectural plastic."51 These statements followed two earlier instances in which Weber implied the interrelationship between tactile and "plastic" qualities in Cezanne's painting and the importance of that example for his personal artistic efforts. In "My Aim," an unpublished essay dated 1910, Weber wrote about his own art: [My] aim is . . . plastic expression of emotion. . . [W]henever I draw I aim to arouse the sense of touch as well as the sense of sight. I want to feel as though I felt the very object--the concrete; I think of the very substance[,] the very structural elements of objects. Through the objective I aim at the subjective.5 2 Thus, tactility was necessary for the successful subjective/objective transferral. In the same year, Weber also noted the tactile properties in Cezanne's plastic forms and implied that the strength of their concrete, three-dimensional physicality created a spiritual, spatial power similar to that of the "fourth dimension"--a consciousness that "is real, and can be perceived and felt. ..5 3 Weber established the real, the concrete, as the source for the "ideal," and the element of this "real" quality in Cezanne's forms was their "plastic," tactile property. 5 4 The actual source of Weber's insight is unknown, but when in 1910 he associated a "plastic" point of view and the "fourth dimension" with the strong sense of tactility in Cezanne's forms, he may have been inspired by ideas circulating among Parisian avant-garde circles or by passages he read in Julius Meier-Graefe's essay "Paul Cezanne" in Modern Art: Being a Contribution to a New System of Aesthetics of 1908. Writing of effects which appeal to the "latent tactile impulse" in Cezanne's art, Meier-Graefe had stated that "there is no movement; the subject before me is a simple still-life; and yet I feel something in the pupil of my eye quivering, as if set in motion by some movement taking place in a higher dimension." 5 5 There remains, however, some question as to whether Weber's use of "felt" refers solely to a tactile sense or alludes to some inner feeling or state of mind--or both. The same ambiguity occurs in Hartley's statement that the "tangible experience of Cezanne's apples" was made possible by "the depth of his feeling and his acute perception."5 6 One of the earliest and best-known of the American advocates for Cezanne's modern painting, Leo Stein, also noted the intrinsic ambivalence of "feel" in relation to a concrete thing and understood it as being a determinant to the aesthetic character of the object. He claimed, We commonly say that we see a thing, hear a thing, smell a thing, when we do it distinctly, but we commonly use the word feel in reference to external objects when there is vagueness. We habitually say feel when we are concerned with touch where the confusion between feeling and the thing felt is very great. To feel in this sense means that there is something that we answer to, but which we cannot definitely establish.5 7 Stein saw the difficulty of separating the positively perceived, bodily feeling with touch associations in connection with an object from the qualities of vague ideas about an object. Neither the aesthetic nature of the object nor the composition of which it is a part is altered by whether the feelings are distinct, clear, localized perceptions or vaguely localized feelings, according to Stein. The essential ingredient in either case is the ability to establish "the relation of the parts to the whole. "5 8 Looking Back: American Sources for an Art Theory Based on Principles of Design and Articulated in Terms of "Plastic and "Plasticity" An understanding of American sources for the words "plastic" and "plasticity" is particularly pertinent to a study of Cezanne, especially considering the importance of these linguistic terms to early modernist artists and critics who sought to articulate a description of Cezanne's unique treatment of form. Because most of the Americans who attempted a positive approach to Cezanne relied heavily on art critical models from abroad, the general consensus has been that the central phraseology associated with Cezanne was derived solely from foreign sources. What has not been recognized previously is the importance of writings by certain American intellectuals at the tum of the century who both provided a foundation for an art critical evaluation of Cezanne's work and served as a springboard for American early modernism. In actuality, native sources, particularly literary works by individuals who maintained an active affiliation with Harvard University or other institutions in the Boston area, were as instrumental as the Europeans in providing ideas and terminology vital to early modernist art theory and criticism. They may be grouped into two areas--art theorists and philosophers. Individuals in these two disciplines provided models for linguistic idioms that the ten American artists in this study found to be appropriate for the expression of a new artistic perspective. American Art Theorists and Their Relevance to the Emerging Tradition of Early Modernist Art and Art Writing Long before Cezanne's name appeared in American publications, scholars in this country formulated principles that later became the keystone to a modem theory of aesthetics. The two major areas from which the terms for discussing modern aesthetics developed were the writings of art scholars and theorists in this country and those of the philosopher William James. Among the early art theorists who were instrumental in formulating a vocabulary and a progressive artistic vision pertinent to both Cezanne and modem art was Ernest Wesley Fenollosa. A leader among the handful of individuals who argued that art should express formal values rather than imitate nature, Fenollosa dared to incorporate sophisticated design concepts derived from Far Eastern art with aspects of Western traditions into an original philosophy of art.5 9 Deeply attracted to spiritual precepts that co-mingled cosmic with earthly environments, Fenollosa, nonetheless, maintained that a work of art must be seen as "a concrete image," its wholeness dependent upon "clear visual relations," and that the imagination played a vital role of organization in creating an artistic image.60 Concerning his artistic beliefs, Fenollosa explained, Visual art is to be distinguished from ordinary sight, from vague revery, and from imperfect phantasy, in this, that the artistic image has persistence, congruity, natural limits, a kind of organization within itself. In strong imagination it is singular and complete, a group of parts, lines and proportions, which lacks nothing essential to make its wholeness clear, which admits nothing that tends to distort the image, or disturb its integrity. Such, in brief, is the artistic imagination, a natural faculty of man through which . . . one can have and retain spontaneous images, pure, clear, simple, whole. The power to hold them is essential to execution, but the true mystery of the faculty is the spontaneity and integrity of its images.6 1 Besides influencing twentieth-century modernism in this country and in Europe, Fenollosa was one of the first American art figures to use "plastic" in a theoretical, formalist context.62 In an address to the Boston Art Student's Association in 1894, Fenollosa presented the artistic image as an entity with natural limits and an internal organization. He also stated, Imagination is creative. The image is individual, and can never digest an intractable formula. Every element that enters into an imaginative group must be plastic and sensitive, full as it were of chemical affinities, through which the just and crystalline balance can rapidly be found. This mystery of genius, this quick power of the imagination, which seems in a moment to explore a million possible combinations, and to seize upon the right one, is significantly called by Kant the faculty of Judgment. By this he does not mean the cold weighing of the intellect, but an almost intuitive seizing upon the capacity for organization of one's raw material. That is why imagination implies originality. 6 3 Fenollosa's commitment to the creative imagination emphasized a faculty that intuitively organized forms, allowed for movement from inner self to outer experiences, and set a premium on originality. At an early time, Fenollosa not only set a clear course against the strict realism dominant in American art at the end of the nineteenth century, but he also served as mentor to both Ross and Arthur Wesley Dow, perhaps the two most influential art teachers in America in 1900. Dow's book Composition: A Series of Exercises in Art Structure for the Use of Students and Teachers (1899) was largely a tribute to Fenollosa. It was, in fact, based on the same principle in art that Fenollosa preferred, in other words synthesis, a putting together of lines, masses, and colors to make harmony and serve as a basis for design and structural principles in a composition.64 Dow, like Fenollosa, emphasized that the key to art is organization determined by a human faculty rather than any dictate of nature. He was quite adamant in maintaining, "Little can be expressed until lines are arranged in a space. Spacing is the very groundwork of design. Ways of arranging and spacing I shall call Principles of Composition. "65 Dow's major premise of organization, the clarity of relations between parts, or the arrangement of formal features into "fine relations (that is, harmony, beauty)," was a version of Fenollosa's contention concerning the base upon which quality in art depended: "If these relations are such that any one distracts from others to itself, [then] it is less easy . . . to understand the meaning of the disposition of the parts."6 6 An author with international stature in the art world who addressed American readers with new terms and liberal ideas and who also shared Fenolossa's understanding of the imagination as intuitive and creative was William James Stillman.67 In 1900, Stillman testified that the imagination, "the spiritual nature of man," must be "intimately incorporated with . . . art."68 He rejected literal reproductions of nature as scientific representations, the "antithesis of art" and art writing, and insisted that "until this is accepted as a maxim of art-criticism, it will be impossible to establish sound critical canons. "69 In addition, he exalted the "plasticity of the mind" as a state of mind during which "freedom and spontaneousness of art-expression" could occur," and wrote that "the high attainment in technique which is indispensable for the perfect freedom of expression of the proper motives of art . . . must be learned, like all other languages, during the most plastic state of the mental faculties."70 Stillman's essay, like Fenollosa's address, was modem enough to set precedents in concept and in terminology that later would be adhered to by certain early modernist painters and informed critics in discussions of Cezanne's painting. Both men saw a vital need to banish the long-practiced deference to facts of nature and to establish the imagination as the primary source for expressions of original art images. In each case, "plastic" appeared prominently in formulations of artistic theories quite advanced for the time and more far-reaching than just verbal assaults against once-hallowed figures, closed preferences, and traditions. But the use of "plastic" at this time did not refer to a particular characteristic of form or matter; rather, "plastic" described a mental quality of flexibility and association with creative imagination. In the 1880s, Charles Waldstein, an American scholar in Greek art, contemporary of William James and George Santayana, and lecturer at Harvard, established important guidelines for a modern tradition in art theory in this country. Defying the norm of the day that art should reproduce the observable and do no more, in 1889 he advocated that art that could satisfy man's "sense of form."71 In defense of non-imitative art, he pointed to "the really fundamental questions concerning the nature of our sense-perceptions in relation to our feelings of form. 11 72 Further, he championed the artist who was willing to add to his work "the unity of soul which welded together into a necessary whole the infinite multiplicity of phenomena. . What makes it art is this human organization of the facts of nature . . . the really divine element, breathed by God through man's best effort into inanimate or insentient nature."73 His argument had important implications for the development of modernist thinking about art that reached well into the new century. As one of the first Americans to write about art from a decidedly formalist position, Waldstein was exceptionally foresighted in favoring the function of art as a selective process for purposes of design. He reenforced his modernist outlook by asserting that "as regards art, it would be nearer the truth to say that man's efforts have their origin in his opposition to nature [rather] than in his following her... 74 Waldstein argued for an art that could stand on its own formal values rather than depend on the truth-to-nature attempts prevalent in the "genteel" epoch and even before. Although he is little known today, Waldstein established artistic standards in the 1880s that are still significant forces for modernist aesthetic thought. In his book, Essays on the Art of P heidias ( 18 8 5) , W aldstein argued that the sculpture and artistic spirit of the Greeks was manifested most emphatically in what he refered to as their "plastic character of mind," a state of sensuous observation, by which he made a clear distinction between "plastic" art or sculpture and "pictorial" art or painting.75 According to Waldstein, the sculptor, who observes a whole form, acts through the senses alone and represents the human body in terms of solidity and roundness. Different altogether is the painter who, uninterested in mere accurate reproduction, produces art by imposing the "design of the human mind" upon forms seen in nature.7 6 The painter, then, through the "natural design of the human mind" seeks a "central unity" for his picture, an organization that is based on the relations between a multiplicity of parts, and to attain this pictorial unity the painter depends not only on the senses, like the sculptor, but also on the imagination and the intellect.77 He noted that "the Greek ... would translate even abstract ideas into some visible or tangible form, and would thus strengthen his memory by an image and not by a word." 7 8 The painter, the maker of "pictorial" art, on the other hand, is unable to observe the object itself in a purely sensuous manner because he is too preoccupied with the organization needed for achieving "life­giving unity," a unity not to be found in one element or another but in "the relation between the several independent parts...7 9 Regarding the pictorial artist, W aldstein further stated, He arranges these parts one with another, chooses, accentuates, and omits, in fact makes a composition, so that the whole receives that unity of organization which makes a picture a work of art in contradistinction to a mere accurate reproduction. He harmonizes the multiplicity of nature into unity in accordance with the laws of association inherent m the human mind. The artist gives life to the dead in introducing the natural design of the human mind into nature as he reproduced her in his work. Now the organization, or life, in the first instance manifests itself to our senses or our imagination in that there is a central unity belonging to the parts, towards which they all tend, so that none is accidental, but all are essential to the whole.8 O Quite sophisticated in the analytic, precise differentiation made between the "plastic" and the "pictorial" mind, the latter emphasizing order, the relation between parts, and "life-giving unity," Waldstein exemplified a mode of thought that accepted change and dared to see the function and meaning of art in a new light. Among a handful of enlightened individuals, he, like Ross, sought order in art based upon principles of design as the imposition of the "divine" human element, the mind and/or the imagination, upon nature. Clearly stating his progressive approach to art, he wrote, The ultimate aim of art is the production of aesthetic pleasures by . . . harmony or beauty . corresponding to a fundamental need and longing for design and order in the human mind, rooted in nature and development of man's sensations, and growing and flowering into his highest spiritual aspirations. . In his artistic efforts he is driven to select, rearrange, or compose things and facts in nature in accordance with the need of this essential quality of his own mind. 8 1 Design and order were coordinates for unity that Emerson had set in place in 1837, when he expressed his desire for order and unity through design, for a "world . . . [that] has form and order; [where] there is no trifle, there is no puzzle, but one design [that] unites and animates the farthest pinnacle and the lowest trench."82 These basic precepts were guiding ones for a small cadre of American scholars who applied them to their individual theories of aesthetics. For instance, although the term "modem" did not appear in the writings of Waldstein, Fenollosa, Dow, or Ross, their thought was based upon a consensus of ideas concerning unity, order, internal relations between parts, in short design in artistic expression; thus, key precepts of modernism were already established before "modern" as a concept was ever pronounced with agreement to describe a quality of art. In contradistinction to the diversity in usage of the term "modern," finally quelled by the focus on Cezanne's painting, there was, then, common ground for "modem" thought about design and order in art that arose at an earlier time from ideas already well-established in the American cultural heritage. This is well-illustrated by Waldstein, for example, whose theories had strong Emersonian overtones, in the desire for order and unity through design, but, at the same time, they were principles that advanced a modem, formalist appraisal of art. Perhaps the earliest example of an American art figure who benefitted directly from Waldstein's thought was Bernard Berenson who actually incorporated his admiration for Waldstein and Cezanne into his published writings. While an undergraduate at Harvard in the 18 80s, Berenson acknowledged that Waldstein's ideas on the Greek's intuitive "plastic mind" had deeply affected him and had, in fact, served as an impetus for his own artistic and critical canons. 8 3 He was very attentive to the manner in which Waldstein (1) ascribed to the "plastic" mind and spirit of the Greeks a tendency to translate even ideas "into some visible or tangible form" and (2) established an important relation between "plastic" and tactility. 8 4 Berenson acknowledged Waldstein's influence in a review of Vernon Lee's book Baldwin: Being Dialogues on Views and Aspirations, stating that not only was her book "a marvel of aesthetic criticism," but that also "her results on the whole are the same as the canons given by Mr. Waldstein in his Essay[s] on the Art of Pheideas[sic]."85 In yet another article, entitled "The Third Category," written in the same year for The Harvard Monthly Berenson wrote that "he wished [his heroine] to be beautiful, but not strikingly so. He loved great beauty too well to wish to disturb his plastic relations with it."86 In other words, he loved to be objective about beauty, to observe it sensuously and intuitively without need of the intellect to establish unity. These early articles are evidence that Waldstein's ideas of the Greek "plastic character of mind" deeply influenced Berenson and served as a foundation for his aesthetic values.8 7 Berenson applauded Waldstein's formalist approach to art, just as he did James's attempt to treat psychology as an applied, natural science, free from metaphysical trappings. He recognized in Waldstein's work a principle upon which he could develop his own objective, formalist approach to art. Furthermore, it seems that Berenson agreed when Waldstein, regretful of the visual shortcoming of the late nineteenth-century world, stated: We have lost the power of simple observation and our interest in things in themselves. We make but scanty use of impressions of eye and touch, in fact use them merely as provisional means to be cast away so soon as we have translated them into some associative thought which is really bound up with some word." 8 8 Waldstein's Essays on the Art of Pheidias was, of course, not the only source of Berenson's acquaintance with "plastic," but it likely was one of the earliest and most influential. After graduating from Harvard in 1887, Berenson lived as an expatriate primarily in Florence and became a connoisseur in the field of Renaissance art. Although his expertise was not in modem art, Berenson was, nonetheless, aware of "plastic" as an indispensible term in French criticism of Cezanne. In 1907, a benchmark year in French Cezannian criticism, Berenson published "The North Italian Painters," in which he used the term "plastic" to describe Giovanni Bellini's color-built forms, which he attributed to the Venetian painter's working in "the plastic-pictorial mode of visualizing...g9 Waldstein's influence is particularly evident in Berenson's suggestion that Bellini's art had qualities that derived from both the "plastic" mind and the "pictorial" mind, just as Waldstein had earlier differentiated the two different approaches to art in his Essays on the Art of Pheidias. However, Berenson's description of Bellini's use of color to render form rather than "line" and "chiaroscuro" to attain a shape, in his words "a plastic mode of visualizing based on the feeling for planes," implies a unity based on color relationships that reveals an indebtedness to both Waldstein and to Maurice Denis.90 In 1907, Denis had written very precisely about Cezanne's method of color "modulating" purely by "contrasts of tint" rather than "contrasts of tone." 91 Combining ideas from both Waldstein and Denis, Berenson noted the Renaissance painter's dependence upon color to achieve the sense of planes and solidity: With Bellini, colour began to be the material of the painter, the chief if not the sole instrument with which his efforts were to be produced. Yet Bellini never dreamt of abandoning the shapes which the plastic vision had evolved; he simply rendered them henceforth with colour instead of with line and chiaroscuro; he merely gave up the plastic-linear for the plastic-pictorial.9 2 Berenson's remarks are similar to those of Denis in regard to Cezanne's transposition of values of black and white into values of color: "Volume finds, then, its expression in Cezanne in a gamut of tints, a series of touches . . [that] follow one another by contrast or analogy according as the form is interrupted or continuous...9 3 Clearly, Berenson expanded the meanings of "plastic" far beyond its earlier connotations in Waldstein's writing. Indeed, by 1907, Berenson used it as Denis did, assigning to the term a "pictorial," formalist meaning, descriptive of color relationships connected to form. The strictly intuitive, sensuous powers of observation of the "plastic" spirit and mind had broadened to an order that now included the intellect. The precedent that Waldstein set extended to other influential individuals in America who contributed to a tradition in early modernist art theory. Two pronouncements by Waldstein in the 1880s--that the divine element in art is the "human organization of the facts of nature" and that the life-giving unity in a picture depends on "the relation between the several independent parts"--were especially important to Denman Ross, who in 1907 formulated his own theory of design. 94 It is conceivable, in fact, that certain ideas of Waldstein concerning the importance of the human element in design were paradigms for Ross. For example, Waldstein's argument regarding an artist's need to "select, rearrange, or compose things and facts in nature in accordance with the need of . . . his own mind"9 5 is echoed in the choice of words by Denman Ross in A Theory of Pure Design: Given a certain outline and certain tones, measures, and shapes to be put into it, it is the Problem of Pure Design to do the best we can, getting as many connections making unity as possible. The process is one of experimenting, observing, comparing, judging, arranging and rearranging, taking no end of time and pains to achieve Order, the utmost possible Order, if possible the Beautifut.9 6 The similarity between Waldstein's terms and those of Ross for describing the artist's selective process for purposes of unity in design, as well as Ross's focus on formal elements in design problems, suggest that the origin for much of his thought was the earlier writing of Waldstein. In Essays on the Art of Pheidias, Waldstein had made it clear that the "pictorial" artist was preoccupied with organization and in a later article of 1889, he had claimed that "what makes it art is this human organization of the facts of nature...9 7 The concepts of order, organization, connections, and arrangements were, then, almost identical for Waldstein and Ross, but whereas Waldstein used the term "relations" of parts in the interest of unity, as Fenollosa did, Ross employed the phrase "connections making unity ... 9 8 The same substantive meaning is simply couched in a slightly different idiom. The idea of art as an organization of formal elements into visual relationships and given subjective guidance by the human faculties of intellect and/or imagination was the key to modernist design, or composition as Dow preferred to phrase it, and had been set in place in America before 1900. The impact of Waldstein's formalist theories, built upon the human selective process in principles of design, was not confined to progressive art theorists in this country but was quite important, believe, to the English critic Roger Fry. The formalist art criticism of Fry, certainly that concerning Cezanne as the leading Post­Impressionist as well as expository essays related to the modem art in the two Grafton shows in London, was an important source of information for many early American modernists. In addition, many art writers in this country regarded Fry as a model, a fact that makes the sources for his theoretical stance particularly relevant, especially if the origins of the ideas that he proposed are traceable to this country.9 9 The three sources commonly cited as being the most influential in Fry's codification of ideas concerning form and formal relationships in modem art are the American Denman Ross, the German critic Julius Meier-Graefe, and the French artist-critic Maurice Denis. What has previously remained unacknowledged is the similarity between Waldstein's theories on design and Fry's aesthetic principles. I 00 An argument can be made that Waldstein was a source for Fry at a time when he was in need of models from which to draw ideas, as he endeavored to organize his own theory of modern art. IO I The similarity between Waldstein's diction on the subject of design, unity, and the human organization of the facts of nature--"to select, rearrange, or compose things and facts in nature in accordance with the need of [the] mind"--and that of Ross on the same subject in his first statement of composition is not coincidental. I 02 Nor does it seem happenstance that Ross's 1907 statement--"it is the Problem of Pure Design to do the best we can, getting as many connections making unity as possible"--is practically paraphrased in Fry's contention in 1909--"a composition is of value in proportion to the number of orderly connections which it displays." I 03 Waldstein, Fenollosa, Dow, and Ross were all concerned with design in art, meaning the human organization of the facts of nature into ordered relationships and unity rather than mere imitation of observable features in nature, but Waldstein published his views on the subject before the others. IO 4 He was, therefore, in the prime position to serve as a source, particularly for Fry, who knew and admired Ross sufficiently to be aware that certain ideas from Waldstein were key principles in the Theory of Pure Design. When in 1910, Fry credited Cezanne with launching French Post­Impressionism by carrying modern art beyond Impressionism's "precise visual value," he did so with authority and conviction: Modern art had arrived in Impressionism at a point where it could describe everything visible with unparalleled ease and precision, but where, having given to every part of the picture its precise visual value, it was powerless to say anything of human import about the things described. It could not materially alter the visual values of things, because the unity cohered in that and in that alone. To give to the rendering of nature its response to human passion and human need demanded a re-valuation of appearances, not according to pure vision, but according to the pre-established demands of the human senses. It is this re-valuation of the visual that Cezanne started. He discovered distortions and ruthless simplifications . . of natural forms, which allowed the fundamental elements of design--the echo of human need--to reappear in his representations. I 0 5 His concluding statement concerning the "human need" for "fundamental elements of design" is nearly a paraphrase of the claim that Waldstein made twenty-one years earlier, obviously known to Fry, about the harmony and beauty in art "corresponding to a fundamental need and longing for design and order in the human mind." 10 6 In fact, Fry revealed a knowledge of Waldstein on that very count in 1904, when he wrote that "beauty . . . is the result of human design acting on the chance disposition of things. n 107 But, it was not until 1911, in a little-known article entitled "Plastic Design" written for the London-based magazine The Nation, that Fry moved much closer to Waldstein's and Ross's considerations. IO 8 In "Plastic Design," Fry wrote about the power of forms endowed with solidity and mass and of the "definite plastic ideas" that relationships between such forms can create. l 09 By acknowledging that forms can have a life of their own, a reality beyond the mere visual, Fry in 1911 seems to have formed his mature, aesthetic theory from an amalgamation of ideas learned from other art writers whom he respected. Clearly apparent in the article is Fry's debt to Ross, conceiveably reaching even as far back as Dow and Fenollosa as well, regarding the importance of formal relationships and unity as design criteria. However, these ideas can ultimately be traced to the American Waldstein, whose theories were available to the public at an even earlier date. Critical to Fry's argument concerning the "voluminous and plastic ideas of form" is "the plastic structural imagination," the human faculty that can conceive of and create a "plastic design": When once the plastic relations are duly established in a design, when once the relations of each volume to the other are ascertained, everything else takes its due place 'in the picture.' . . . Whereas, without this fundamental quality nothing can truly be said to take its place in the picture, since there is no really constructed ideated space for them to exist in. This power of evoking voluminous and plastic ideas of form seems, indeed, to distinguish more than anything else the artist from the illustrator or delineator. l 10 Revealing the influence of Berenson with the term "ideated space," Fry asserts the artist's need to express the solidity and mass of form: "To make this vivid to the imagination [as] . . . the illusion of solidity, of resistance, and of height," for without "the grasp of these elementary ideas," there can be no "plastic design." Without an artist's ability to establish "definite feelings about the material or visible world," to impart "plastic reality in the design," and to paint "the essential plastic relations of things," there can be no "imaginative apprehension" of form, no "creative plastic idea," no "plastic design" in which forms are realized with "plastic feeling," nor can there be an execution of "the essential plastic relations of things" or a "fine understanding of their relations." 111 Waldstein had already established the thesis that the "life-giving unity" in a picture lay in "the relation between the several independent parts," and had stated that "painting differs from sculpture in that it does not depend upon the simplicity of purely sensuous observation, but is rather concerned with the reI ation between things," the painter possessing a "poetic mind," more subjective, reflective, and in closer touch with the imagination than the sculptor.112 In "Plastic Design," the emphasis on the imagination, on the "relations of things," the "plastic feeling for form," on design as a reflection of human faculties, and on an independent life for facts selected from nature rejoins the theories of Waldstein closely enough to suggest that, certainly for this essay, he was an important source for Fry.113 Fry did not use "plastic" only in the sense of physical behavior of matter that might summon a sensation of elasticity, volume, malleability, or weight and density. Without ignoring this empirical aspect of nature, he nonetheless conferred a broader connotation upon "plastic," a subjective one that conveyed his perspective that great pictures embody "certain definite feelings about the material or visible world." I I4 Although his uses of "plastic" in the June 1911 article did not refer to Cezanne--in fact, Fry first used "plastic" in 1910 to describe Matisse's "plastic feeling in painting"l 15 __ a month earlier he had written of "plastic" qualities in the relationship between forms in imagined space and the two-dimensional planar surface, using Cezanne as an example to support his argument: It appears then that the imagination is ready to construct for itself the ideas of space in a picture from indications even more vividly than it accepts the idea when given by means of sensual illusion. And the same fact appears to be true of plastic relief. We do not find, as a matter of empirical fact, that the outlines with which some of these artists surround their figures, in any way interfere with our imaginative grasp of their plastic qualities--particularly is this the case in Cezanne, in whom the feeling for plastic form and strict correlation of planes appears in its highest degree. I 1 6 Despite the respect Fry commanded in this country, only a handful of the most prescient artists and critics would have understood that his concept of modern art involved a focus on the relational elements of design and on the primacy of the flat pictorial surface. I I 7 The American art theorists addressed in this chapter had highly progressive, innovative ideas concerning the priority of design relations over imitative endeavors and their influential theories often reached individuals abroad. The intellectuals discussed above were concerned with a pictorial approach, a "pragmatic" response that focused on the demands of art and the means of expression to relate parts to the whole. All of them also championed the idea that art was an organization of formal elements arranged into visual relationships and given subjective guidance by the human faculties of intellect and/or imagination, a principle upheld by the ten early modernists who looked to Cezanne for new ideas. In various capacities, the Americans who formulated theories pertinent to modern art opened avenues for recognizing new possibilities, for acting without seeking guarantees, and for attacking all pretensions that threatened to close opportunities for experimentation and individual expression. Except for Ross and Dow, native theorists conveyed their thoughts in new terms, most importantly "plastic" and "plasticity," and by doing so, they expanded the meanings of the two words, making them serviceable for addressing modern concepts in art: Fenollosa associated "plastic" with an imaginative capacity for organizing raw material in the context of design; Waldstein summoned "plastic" to describe a detached state of mind for sensuous observation of the object; Stillman also invoked "plastic" to convey a state of mind, one in which the imagination engendered freedom in art expression; Berenson, too, at first employed "plastic" to denote a state of mind and later a treatment of form through color, not line; and Fry, the only non-American in the group, used "plastic" to describe a type of design which relations between volumetric forms reflected an artist's feelings about the material world. The connotations of either state of mind, expressive form, or the "plastic" relations between forms catapulted the term into the forefront of the vocabulary used to discuss what was developing in regard to the modem meaning in art. States of mind could more easily be activated by relations among formal elements, by composition or design in art, than by imitative schemes that merely reflected nature's ready-made designs. Philosophers: James and Santayana In addition to the art theorists and academicians, philosophers also added their original thoughts and verbal skills to the innovative perspectives that facilitated this country's conceptual progression into twentieth-century modernism. Among this group William James was, perhaps, the most influentiaI.118 His commitment to "pure experience" in the concrete world and to the relational over the absolute was a precursor to European modernism, the movement that, in the minds of many people, began with Cezanne. Moreover, current argument highlighting James as a force for experiment in artistic development emphasizes his ability to integrate the spiritual with the tangible and to balance the metaphysics of Emerson with logical empiricism, thereby upholding a variant of this country's matter/spirit dichotomy in terms of the ideal and the "pragmatic." 119 One indication of James's catalytic role in the development of early modernist art in this country is the influence he had on many key artists and critics (such as Prendergast, Hartley, Russell, Weber, Hartmann, Leo Stein and Marius de Zayas, to name a few) who saw a direct linkage between Cezanne and modernism.120 James's ideas in psychology and philosophy also had a profound effect on certain students he taught at Harvard, some of whom--Berenson, John Sumner, Leo Stein and Charles Loeser--became America's earliest admirers or collectors of, and writers on, Cezanne.121 "Relation," a term frequently used in the art discourses of Waldstein, Fenollosa, Ross, and Fry, figured significantly in James's explication of modem psychological concepts. In many chapters of his Principles of Psychology, James used the word "relation" to describe the processes of mental functions. One instance occurs in a well-known chapter, "The Stream of Thought," in which James wrote that "knowledge about a thing is knowledge of its relations," a statement that bears comparison with Fenollosa's declaration that "relations are more real and more important than the things which they relate." 12 2 Other instances in Principles indicate that without cognizing the relations of things, the mind is unable to make identifications, whether one is speaking of masses of units combined but possessing varying degrees of distance, interval, and difference ("It is these RELATIONS . . . which we are measuring and not the composition of the qualities themselves. . . . ") or clarifying that knowlegde comes from thinking about sensations ("new truth affirms in every case a relation between the original subject or conception and some new subject conceived later on ").1 2 3 Most importantly, in "The Stream of Thought," James emphasized the pluralistic manner by which the mind knows: "There is no manifold of co-existing ideas; the notion of such a thing is chimera. Whatever things are thought in relation are thought from the outset in a unity, in a single pulse of subjectivity, a single psychosis, feeling or state of mind." 124 The last passage, especially, has affinity with emergent modem tenets in the art theories of Waldstein and Ross; relations in art, like relations in knowledge, involved a purpose of unity no less than a state of mind. The areas between fields--between art, natural science, aesthetics, psychology, and philosophy--were not separate but relational, forming a continuous creative ground. Another modern concept presented in Principles that has strong implications for art is the suggested fusion of subject and object. Sections in the chapters on Sensation, Attention, Concepts, and Association point to a person, mood, moment, the whole apperceptive mass, as inseparable from the 'object' or external experience.125 But the most compelling pronouncement of subject and object in terms of integration occurs in "The Stream of Thought," where James presented the phenomenon of human consciousness as functioning like a flowing stream, with the content of the human mind always changing as new images or thoughts penetrate it.12 6 The "subjective stream" of the "fringe," where "relation . . . is constantly felt," works rn tandem with the more objective "cognitive function" also propelled along in the stream of thought.127 By presenting the mind as a blending instrument, working its pattern as a stream of flowing subject-and-object sensations, James openly rejected the traditional theory of the human mind as a blank, neutral substance, a doctrine established in the late 17th century by British empiricist philosopher John Locke. In terminology as well as substance, James opposed Locke by speaking of "consciousness" rather than mind and by suggesting that "consciousness" was a dynamic activity.128 According to James, the stream presents "objects" first one way, then another, with no limits, because thoughts about them change according to "time-parts." First seen as a "pack-of-cards," then as a different subjective phenomenon, "a pack-of-cards-on-the-table," there is constant shifting back and forth in the way they are perceived by the activated conscious. I 2 9 There was no clear-cut sequence in the way consciousness established feelings or knowledge about a single object or many; rather, it was a matter of establishing as many connections or relations as possible, bringing to mind the wording and concepts that appear prominently in the art theoretical writing of Waldstein, Ross, and Fry. Of interest is the subject/object issue presented by Scottish philosopher and psychologist Alexander Bain in The Senses and The Intellect (1855), the text James selected for a course he taught in psychology at Harvard and that Berenson took as an undergraduate. I 3 O In the field of psychology, Bain was a figure of international reknown and highly respected by James, who quoted freely from his works throughout Princ ip Ies and who apparently drew inspiration from Bain's treatment of the subject/object connection in The Senses and The Intellect. Bain considered the relation between perceiving subject and object perceived as a synthesis,131 and in doing so dispelled all notion of an "extemality and independence of our object consciousness." 13 2 He stated, My object consciousness is as much a part of my being as my subject consciousness is. Only, when I am gone, other beings will sustain and keep alive the object part of my consciousness, while the subject part is in abeyance. The object is the perennial, the common to all: the subject is the fluctuating, the special to each. But there is nothing in the fact of community of experience (the object) that justifies us in separating the experience from the allegiance with the mind (the subject).13 3 James's subjective "fringe of relations" in "Stream of Thought" has an affinity with Bain's "subject consciousness," the main difference being James's endowment of the ever-changing subjective qualities in the "fringe" as opposed to Bain's "abeyance."134 Regardless of this slight divergence in schemes to describe human thought, the important point is that some of Cezanne's first American admirers and collectors, because they studied under James or were familiar with his Principles, had at an early date been exposed to concepts of the integration of subject and object. This issue was of prime importance to avant-garde French criticism, including that which focused on the modern art of Cezanne, and also to certain American modernists who wrote with authority on the subject of Cezanne after their returns from Europe. A major value of James's psychology was the shift toward modern, subjective emphases in his field (for example, the uniting of subject and object), a direction of thought which, when applied to art, made the experience more lasting. What James had to offer was a daring, experimental approach, very much in tune with inclinations of American modernist painters a generation after him who followed both his lead and that of Cezanne with artistic expressions in which objective visual relationships, simply by generating new experiences, became subjective. Perhaps because he seriously considered becoming a painter at one point in his life, James often used the activity of an artist well­versed in design principles as an analogy to describe the manner in which the brain functions. In one passage from the Princi p I es, James described the artist as one who chooses from "subjective sensations," and, by the selective activity of the mind, rejects "all tones, colors, shapes, which do not harmonize with each other and with the main purpose of his work." 135 Furthermore, he likened the selective activity of the mind to the way a sculptor works on his stone block, "rejecting certain portions of the given stuff."1 3 6 He argued that by choosing between "the genuine objectivity of the thing" and the "subjective sensations" the object might yield, "the mind chooses to suit itself and decides what particular sensation shall be held more real and valid than all the rest." 137 Using the artist-at-work to demonstrate the mind seeking its own order made scientific findings accessible to the lay reader and plainly could easily have attracted the attention of Waldstein, Ross, and Fry, whose ideas of design in art parallel the artist's activities described in Principles.138 In any case, James's presentation of the artist as creative and in control, whether choosing, selecting or converting matter, was in concert with the idea of modem art as the expression of some aspect of the artist's individuality, just as his portrayal of the ceaseless fluctuations in human consciousness was reflective of the essence of modernity, the inevitability of limitless change. Curiously, James, once an aspiring painter, had no interest in writing on art, nor on aesthetic theory, except privately in his own notebooks. Nonetheless, he was not averse to writing critiques on books others had written on the subject of aesthetics or art. In 1897, for example, James published a favorable review of his Harvard colleague George Santayana's book The Sense of Beauty; Being the Outlines of Aesthetic Theory (1896), in which he praised Santayana's empirical assertion that any effect that a form evokes can occur only by involving the senses.139 Above all, James lauded Santayana for his rejection of the abstract "stuff called Aesthetics in the systems of German philosophers" and for an ability to grasp his subject with both "concreteness and reality." 140 In noting the merit of Santayana's treatment of suggestiveness in artworks, James quoted from the book in his review: "It is the free exercise of our activity of apperception that gives so peculiar an interest to indeterminate objects, to the vague, the incoherent, the suggestive, the variously interpretable." 14 1 However, James considered the relativity of the aesthetic experience insuperably personal and subjective, and, hence, unfit for general treatment; he saw no point in theorizing on the subject, even though it had long been associated with philosophy .142 How could one formulate feeling, which is what constitutes an aesthetic experience, when art and life were inseparable, known only by experience and not theory? As he stated in his review of Henry Rutgers Marshall's Pain, Pleasure, and Aesthetics (1894), "No philosophy, however wide its sweep or deep its dive, will ever be a substitute for the tiniest experience of life." 14 3 In the same year, Bernard Berenson published "The Venetian Painters of the Renaissance," the first of four works comprising The Italian Painters of the Renaissance. Next came "The Florentine Painters of the Renaissance" (1896), then "The Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance" (1897), and lastly "The North Italian Painters of the Renaissance" (1907). Berenson, one of James's students, had learned a great deal from him, but had never fully appreciated his teacher's sensibility to matters concerning art. As an undergraduate Berenson had ample exposure to the "genteel" tradition in art and valued art as a secular, objective achievement.144 A product of his James's teaching, however, he appraised art on psychological and empirical bases, with an eye particularly sensitive to form. Berenson, described in 1911 as "the American writer on art who proclaims he would sooner have Cezanne's pictures on his walls than those of any other painter," once acknowledged James as the source behind his need to know an art work by factual observation, individual experience, and personal contemplation.145 Referring to his own system of aesthetics, Berenson admitted that "I owe everything to William James, for I was already applying his theories to the visible world. 'Tactile values' was really James's phrase, not mine, although he never knew he had invented it."146 The most succinct and prominent discussions revealing the importance of James's theories about cognitive sensations of tactility on Berenson's aesthetics are found in "The Florentine Painters" and "The Central Italian Painters." In the former work, Berenson, expounding on the essential contribution of Giotto to the Florentine school, noted the importance of the sense of touch in enriching one's sight perception of form in an artwork. Later, when he examined Giotto's ability to stimulate the tactile consciousness, thereby triggering feelings concerning an object in space, he remarked that "psychology has ascertained that sight alone gives us no accurate sense of the third dimension."147 He elaborated further, Now, painting is an art which aims at giving an abiding impression of artistic reality with only two dimensions. The painter must, therefore, do consciously what we all do unconsciously--construct his third dimension. And he can accomplish his task only as we accomplish ours, by giving tactile values to retinal impressions. His first business, therefore, is to rouse the tactile sense, for I must have the illusion of being able to touch a figure, I must have the illusion of varying muscular sensations inside my palm and fingers corresponding to the various projections of this figure, before I shall take it for granted as real, and let it affect me lastingly. It follows that the essential in the art of painting . . . is somehow to stimulate our consciousness of tactile values, so that the picture shall have at least as much power as the object represented, to appeal to our tactile imagination.14 8 Although he was not an apologist for modern art, Berenson in 1897 also applied James's theories of space perception to one of Cezanne's landscape paintings. His discussion revealed that his interest in applied psychology, begun under James's teaching at Harvard, had led him to further investigate the physiological problems in perception that James addresses in The Principles of Psychology.149 One factor especially important to Berenson was James's professed intention to exclude metaphysics from his theories in favor of treating psychology as a natural science. For Berenson this insight was a signal that art, too, could be treated objectively, even scientifically, a premise he considered especially important to his ability to attribute a work of art with accuracy to a certain painter. Actually, Berenson had formed this objective ideology before he left Harvard for Europe in 1887. In that year, he wrote to his future patronness Isabella Stewart Gardner in Boston, "I want more plastic, less subjective things." 15 0 James's Preface of the Principles, and his stated exclusion of "pleasure, pain, and moral and aesthetic feelings," reinforced Berenson's allegiance to the Italian art critic Giovanni Morelli's rejection of subjective art appraisal in favor of scientific, formal connoisseurship.151 To a large extent, Berenson based his methodology on Morelli's contention that recognition of an artist's repetition of certain characteristic forms or shapes was the best means for establishing an attribution.15 2 But, it was James's theories concerning the perception of a three-dimensional form in a three-dimensional space that Berenson used to develop his best-known postulates in aesthetics. For instance, in "The Central Italian Painters" ( 1897), Berenson drew directly from James's principle concerning the role of muscular contractions for calling into play "surface-sensibilities" and space perception.15 3 To elucidate his point, he refers to Cezanne as a painter whose work lacks space perception: Believe me, if you have no native feeling for space, not all the science, not all the labour in the world will give it to you. And yet without this feeling there can be no perfect landscape. In spite of the exquisite modelling of Cezanne, who gives the sky its tactile values as perfectly as Michelangelo has given them to the human figure, in spite of Monet's communication of the very pulse-beat of the sun's warmth over field's and trees, we are still waiting for a real art of landscape. And this will come only when some artist modelling skies like Cezanne's, able to communicate light and heat as Monet does, will have a feeling for space rivalling Perugino's or even Raphael's.15 4 In the same chapter, Berenson very specifically defined his own version of Bain's and James's physiological/psychological applications to space-perception. Although his terminology is slightly different, Berenson discussed how space composition has a specific effect on the "vaso-motor" system, an effect that actually affects a viewer's circulation and breathing.15 5 His theory, a novel application of psychology to art criticism, was quite daring. James's theories provided a bountiful mine for Berenson's aesthetic theories, and on numerous occasions James's contributions are obvious. For instance, Berenson coined the phrase "ideated sensations" to define those ideas that arise from physical perceptions, relate to the third dimension by imagined, "ideated" touching, or tactile values, and are stimulated by a sense of movement. In "Habit," an early chapter of the first volume of the Principles, James initially discussed "ideational" centers of the mind as existing on a higher level than the locus of sensations.156 In a subsequent chapter, "Sensation" in volume two, he described much more precisely the psychological process by which humans convert physical sensations, both tactile and optical, into realities in the form of ideas, which in tum can be projected onto other objects that are not the source of the original sensations. I 5 7 Synthesizing ideas from both volumes of James's work, Berenson eventually formed his own singular expression "ideated sensation," used most prominently m "Central Italian Painters," in which he claimed that "ideated sensations" of touch and movement endowed art with a "life-communicating quality," a statement with links to Waldstein who wrote that "the artist gives life to the dead [by] introducing the natural design of the human mind into nature." 15 8 Furthermore, Berenson asserted that "tactile values" applied only to form in "the figure arts": I prefer to the word 'form' to use the expression 'tactile values,' for form in the figure arts gives us pleasure because it has extracted and presented to us the corporeal and structural significance of objects more quickly and more completely than we . . . could have grasped them ourselves. This intimate realization of an object comes to us only when we unconsciously translate our retinal impressions of it into ideated sensations of touch, pressure, and grasp--hence the phrase 'tactile values.' 1 5 9 Berenson had a rich source of information regarding ideation and/or sensation in James's Principles, where the precept is addressed in several chapters, namely "Imagination," "Sensation," "The Perception of Space," and "The Perception of Reality." 160 In "The Perception of Reality," James stated that the most practically important, permanent, and aesthetically apprehensible sensations are those that relate to mass.161 Repeatedly, James discussed the perception of reality in connection with sensations related to form. For instance, he argued, Tactile and muscular sensations [are] 'primary qualities,' more real than those 'secondary qualities' which eye and ear and nose reveal. Why do we thus so markedly select the tangible to be the real? . The tangible qualities are the least fluctuating. When we get them at all we get them the same. The other qualities fluctuate enormously as our relative position to the object changes. Then, more decisive still, the tactile properties are those most intimately connected with our weal or woe." 1 6 2 Berenson's assimilation of James's principles into a theoretical basis for his own aesthetics received appreciation by James himself, who, in a review of his former student's "The Florentine Painters," remarked that "this little handbook, by an accomplished student of art history, deserves notice in these pages because it is the first attempt we have seen to apply elementary psychological categories to the interpretation of higher works of art." 16 3 James chided Berenson, however, for being too objective in appraising works of art by 'tactile value,' and for overusing the phrase. In summarizing Berenson's work, James returned to his fast stand on the futility of theoretical aesthetics, or even writing about art at all: The essay is charmingly written, and will be useful to all art­students. Whether we get much deeper into the secrets of art­magic, or account for the sense of preciousness that some paintings diffuse . may be left an open question. Mr. Berenson himself has to add 'spiritual significance' to his other terms of 'life-enhancing value.' But until we can define just what the superior 'significances' are, in the better of two pictures--and surely we hardly ever can--the explanation of all merit by significance remains somewhat unsatisfying. The better picture remains simply the better picture, and its ultimate superiority might, in the end, be a matter of immediate optical feeling and not a matter of extraneous suggestion or significance at all.164 In addition to using the term he coined from his study of James's theories in psychology, Berenson often used the term "plasticity," as well as "tactile value" or "tactile sense" in his writings on Italian Renaissance painting.165 In The Florentine Painters, for example, he described certain "life-enhancing" qualities in Botticelli's painting Pallas Taming A Centaur: No matter how unpropitious, how abstract the idea, the vivid appeal to our tactile sense, the life-communicating movement is always there. . . . As to the hair--imagine shapes having the supreme life of line you may see in the contours of licking flames, and yet possessed of all the plasticity of something which caresses the hand that models it to its own desire.11 l 6 6 In this instance, Berenson used "plasticity" to describe the flexibility of matter yielding to pressure, or the physical property characteristic of a concrete form, quite different from his earlier meaning of "plastic," as an intuitive state of mind in Waldstein's tradition, upon which he had depended for writing the prose published in the Harvard Monthly in 1886. Berenson's later use of "plastic" in both "Florentine Painters" and "North Italian Painters," does not apply to states of mind evoked by "things in themselves" or single wholes, as was the case when he wrote as an undergraduate at Harvard, but rather to pictorial modes of visualization encompassing feelings for relations among parts of a picture, for planes, and for solidity. This consequence reveals a changed application of the term, an alteration worth noting since his publications were influential and reached a younger generation of progressive American artists. The passage on Pa11 as, for example, was among portions of Berenson's text that the American early modernist Morgan Russell included in one of his unpublished notebooks.167 At the top of one page Russell wrote "3. 'Florentine Painting,"' and below jotted down a series of notes that relate to parts of the Berenson chapter (12) on Botticelli in "The Florentine Painters": Botticelli--indifferent to representation and intent on presentation--abandoned [him]self to qualities directly life­communicating and life-enhancing. Venus [referring to Venus Rising From the Sea]--tactile imagination raised to keen activity by itself almost as life, as music. Pallas--hips, head, torso and hair--imagine shapes with supreme life of line in contours of licking flames and yet possessed of all plasticity--is [a] way of rendering tactile values with no body­-by translating to values of movement. I 6 8 Russell was obviously mulling over Berenson's ideas, many of which were probably brought to his attention by Leo Stein, a friend of Berenson, former Harvard student, and admirer of James. Russell, however, apparently had serious reservations concerning some of Berenson's ideas, as evidenced in another entry in his notebook, where he wrote that Berenson was "an example of the kind that can understand an art well-established and old--but [is] incapable of [the] same attitude toward a new one--as for instance by [a] stupid lack of appreciating functional color." 16 9 Along with Weber and others, Russell attended Stein's sessions on modem art and viewed a number of paintings by Cezanne that Stein and his sister Gertrude owned. Russell's notebooks, a valuable source for topics in the art discussions at the Stein salon, reveal not only one American modernist's reaction to the paintings, but also the extent to which Stein drew ideas from Berenson (the same ideas that James had first formulated with an emphasis on tactile perceptions in form cognition). I 7 0 When James admonished Berenson for neglecting the 'spiritual' value in Florentine paintings at the expense of exalting "life­ communicating, tactile values," his reproach reflected his deep conviction that aesthetic experience is too subjective for one to write about it with an accuracy meaningful to another person. Although James considered Berenson's connections of tactile aspects with motor life that led to his "ideated sensations" to be scientifically and psychologically correct, he differed with the latter on the detached, scientific point that assumed a separation between subject and object. Instead, James adhered to the more modem concept of a fusing of the two, an inclination revealed at a much earlier time in a privately recorded response to art. As a young man of twenty-six, James visited an art gallery in Dresden, Germany; his visit prompted a diary entry in which he noted that certain Renaissance an carried the viewer beyond merely a visual experience of the an object to a relational, creative, and emotional one wrought by the an work itself, the object. This realization came as something of an epiphany and carried with it a reference to the term "plastic," as noted below: It struck me the other day that among works of plastic art a division . . . might be made between such as Raphael's and M. Angelo's on the one hand and those of the Greeks and Venetians on the other. The former points expressively and with consciousness on the part of the author to the existence of something ineffable and beyond the picture, which it is the best function of the picture to make us feel. 171 James's discourses were recognized for their eloquence, especially the manner in which he used precise, vivid imagery and graphic detail to describe mental phenomena, particularly in regard to the analogies between consciousness and impending, restless states of change.172 In this regard, "plasticity" was a significant factor. James used the terms "plastic" and "plasticity" with an originality that would have captured the attention and imagination of anyone favorably disposed to the art of Cezanne and seeking a way to interpret it. As have already noted, many disciples of Cezanne in this country were great admirers of James as well, and, despite his refusal to formulate a formal system of aesthetics, James contributed to the development of a modem literary theory that would prove beneficial to the needs of an emerging tradition in early modernist painting and art criticism. In the Princ ip I es, James upheld his opinion that any attempt to speculate about aesthetics was self-defeating, except for a rare passage in which he allowed that "yes! in every art, in every science, there is the keen perception of certain relations being right or not, and there is the emotional flush and thrill consequent thereupon. "17 3 In his writings on psychology and, later, philosophy James repeatedly relied on metaphors drawn directly from his serious study of and experience with the visual arts. I 7 4 His language in publications on psychology or philosophy constantly revealed an underlying, persistent interest in art and forms suggestive of flux rather than stasis and immutable matter. For instance, the sense of touch related to form and the changeable nature of matter, its plastic or malleable quality, reinforces the dialogue in large portions of his philosophical treatise, Pragmatism. "The world stands really malleable, waiting to receive its final touches at our hands," James writes, and in another passage, he speaks of "the humanist view of 'reality,' as something resisting, yet malleable, which controls our thinking as an energy that must be taken account of. . . "175 The artist in control is able to alter matter, as the mind in control is able to configure sensations into perceptions and knowledge: "We receive in short the block of marble, but we carve the statue ourselves."176 Paradoxically, although he believed that any criterion for an aesthetic experience was both too subjective and too personal to be adequately articulated, James actually wrote with a certain artistic conviction on scientific subjects. His chapter on "Habit" contains a particularly effective description of plasticity as a concrete, physical property of matter.177 He explained the phenomenon of habit in terms of the plasticity of the brain, the pliable nature of the organic matter in question allowing habits to form and change. He stated that "the moment one tries to define what habit is, one is led to the fundamental properties of matter." 178 Since, according to James, the brain matter responds to exertion from an outside force or stimulus and then resumes its former arrangement as a mass of matter when the stimulus disappears, it can be considered both plastic and pliable. In that light, James wrote, [The habits] of a compound mass of matter can change, because they are in the last instance due to the structure of the compound, and either outward forces or inward tensions can turn that structure into something different from what it was. That is, they can do so if the body be plastic enough to maintain its integrity, and be not disrupted when its structure yields. . . All these changes [of structure] are rather slow; the material in question opposes a certain resistance to the modifying cause, which it takes time to overcome, but the gradual yielding whereof often saves the material from being disintegrated altogether. When the structure has yielded, the same inertia becomes a condition of its comparative permanence in a new form, and of the new habits the body then manifests. Plasticity, then, in the wide sense of the word, means the possession of a structure weak enough to yield to an influence, but strong enough not to yield all at once. . Organic matter, especially nervous tissue, seems endowed with a very extraordinary degree of plasticity of this sort; so that we may without hesitation lay down as our first proposition the following, that the phenomena of habit in living beings are due to the plasticity of the organic materials of which their bodies are composed. I 7 9 Of note, however, is that his key tenns and the physiological manner in which they were put can be traced to the writings of Alexander Bain. In The Senses and the Intellect (1855) and Emotions and the Will (1859), his two principal works, Bain uses diction that clearly influenced James and, ultimately, Berenson. For instance, a section of the fonner work entitled "Associations of Touch" has two contiguous paragraphs that emphasize the need to combine muscular feelings and exertions with tactile associations. Bain discusses "tactile and mobile impressions," which he subsequently refers to as "plastic operations." 180 A section titled "Moral Habits" in the latter work Emotions and The Will also seems to have been a source for James's own discussion of "Habit" in the Principles, and in it, Bain had used "plastic" and "plasticity" to convey qualities relating to the brain: the "plastic process of the mind," and the "plastic quality of the brain." 1 8 1 Regarding a precept concerning habit, he stated that "some natures are distinguished by plasticity or the power of acquisition, and, therefore, realize more closely the saying that man is a bundle of habits." 18 2 Both James and Bain used "plasticity" in a psychological sense and securely grounded its adjectival meaning in the concrete, "tactile," and physical matter of the brain. Not only in the Principles, but in other writings as well, James repeatedly invoked aesthetic metaphors and the terms "plastic" or "plasticity," fusing sight and touch to heighten both the experience of form and the expression of an idea. In Pragmatism, "plastic" is ubiquitous: "We say this theory solves it on the whole more satisfactorily than that theory; but that means more satisfactorily to ourselves, and individuals will emphasize their points of satisfaction differently. To a degree, therefore, everything here is plastic" (p. 31); speaking of the truth of new opinions, and the need for those who hold them to both "lean on old truth and grasp new fact," James pointed to "[John] Dewey and [Johann Christoph Friedrich] Schiller" and, by virtue of their knowing that "when old truth grows, then, by new truth's addition, it is for subjective reasons," determines that "they also once were plastic" (p. 32); James quoted from Schiller's Personal Idealism: " 'The world ... is what we make it. It is fruitless to define it by what it originally was or by what it is apart from us; it is what is made of it. Hence . . . the world is plastic.' He [Schiller] added that we can learn the limits of the plasticity only by trying, and that we ought to start as if it were wholly plastic (p. 110) .... 11 183 One passage from Pragmatism is particularly rich as an imagistic rendering of the mind at work: The trail of the human serpent is thus over everything. Truth independent; truth that we find merely; truth no longer malleable to human need; truth incorrigible, in a word; such truth exists indeed superabundantly--or is supposed to exist by rationalistically minded thinkers. . . . But how plastic even the oldest truths, nevertheless, really are has been shown in our day... _184 Clearly, James's meanings for "plastic" and "plasticity" in Pragmatism assume different implications from the manner in which he used them in Principles. In reference to Dewey's and Schiller's accommodation of "the most ancient parts of truth," James had described them as having once been "plastic," by which he meant that they not only held value of their own, but also had further merit as mediators between still earlier truths. "Plastic," then, varies in meaning in James's texts. It refers to a stretchable quality in the sense of flexibility and applies to a physiological mass in the chapter "Habit" of Principles; in Pragmatism, "plastic" describes ideas and open-minded attitudes rather than matter and is, then, the ability to unite thoughts from the past with ones of the present-day and in the process generate an altogether greater "truth." Not as pivotal as James, but still an important force in the formulation of aesthetic thought at the turn of the century was George Santayana, one of James's former students. If James preferred to keep his ideas concerning art and aesthetics in a private realm, Santayana chose a more open forum, although he never expounded them as iron­clad components of a comprehensive, fully understood system.185 In his 1896 The Sense of Beauty; Being the Outlines of Aesthetic Theory, Santayana remained close to the sphere of feelings, stating that "to feel beauty is a better thing than to understand how we come to feel it." 1 8 6 Even some twenty years later in 1916, Santayana bemoaned the readiness of the Roman Empire to flaunt a "love of display and of plastic grandiloquence," meaning gigantic architecture and sculptural embellishment at the expense of the human scale.18 7 By comparison, the superior sensitivity of the "Saracens, Chinese, and Japanese in their various ways use the human scale with even greater refinement, for they apply it also in a sensuous and psychological direction. Here the human scale is not drawn from the human body so much as from the human soul." 18 8 Santayana said of aesthetics that "the only originality can claim is that which may result from the attempt to put together the scattered commonplaces of criticism into a system, under the inspiration of a naturalistic psychology." 189 Not only was the application of psychology to aesthetics a vanguard accomplishment in 1896--as was Berenson's application in the same year of psychological principles to analyses of paintings (The Florentine Painters of the Renaissance)--but here was further testimony to James's influence upon his students and, ultimately, upon aesthetic theory. To summarize, America at the turn of the century, a time immediately preceeding significant knowledge of Cezanne in this country, was imbued with a substantial, albeit unwieldy, corpus of aesthetic thought. Whether through a system of relations, a synthesis, or an order for "getting as many connections making unity as possible" in a composition, art writers of the day formulated and articulated theories based on art as a formal autonomous entity_l 90 In this earlier generation, scholars and art critics had expressed various theories, repeatedly choosing the terms "plastic" and "plasticity" to describe characteristics of art. Thus, for the early modernist artists and conscientious critics who followed and who were confronted by Cezanne's unorthodox work, native, intellectual sources rich in ideas and terminology were at their disposal. Although artist/writers and professional critics who were active during the early encounter with modernist art, particularly Cezanne's, looked abroad for critical examples, many had available to them a particular, imagistic terminology that native authors, from Emerson in the mid-nineteenth century through James and Santayana in the early years of the twentieth century, had employed. N' ;« Fig. 78. John Marin, Be rkshires• 1912, watercolor on paper, The Berkshire Museum, Pittsfield, MA. Fig. 79. John Marin, Adirondacks /, ca. 1913, watercolor and graphite on paper, Kennedy Galleries, Inc., New York. Fig. 80. John Marin, landscape, 1913, watercolor on paper, The Cleveland Museum of Art. Fig. 81. Paul Cezanne, Paysage pres du las de Bouffan, 1878-83 (V. 304), oil on canvas, The National Gallery, Oslo. r-' _____............ Fig. 82. Charles Demuth, Bathers at a Dock, undated, watercolor and pencil, The Philadephia Museum of Art. Fig. 83. Paul Cezanne, Baigneur aux bras ecartes, 1885-7 (V. 549), oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 84. Charles Demuth, Men Swimming , No. J, ca. 1910, watercolor and ink on paper, present location unknown. Fig. 85. Paul Cezanne, small Les Baigneurs, 1896-97 (V. 1156), color lithograph, Offentliche Kunstsammulung Basel, Kunstmuseum. Fig. 86. Paul Cezanne, large Les Baigneurs, 1896-8 (V. 1157), lithograph in black; handcolored by the artist, Josefowitz Collection. Fig. 87. Charles Demuth, New Hope Landscape, 1908, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 88. Paul Cezanne, Effet de neige, 1872-3 (V. 137), oil on canvas, present location unknown. Fig. 89. Charles Demuth, Landscape, Maine, 1909-10, oil on paperboard, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhom, 1966. Fig. 90. Paul Cezanne, Le Golfe de Marseille, vu de L'Estaque, 1883-5 (V. 429), oil on canvas, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Fig. 91. Paul Cezanne, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire, 1900-2 (RWC 502), pencil, gouache, and watercolor on paper, Musee du Louvre, Paris. Fig. 92. Charles Demuth, Mt. Gilboa #5, ca. 1912-15, watercolor on paper, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Joseph H. Hirshhom, 1966. Fig. 93. Charles Demuth, Trees and Rooftops, 1916, watercolor on paper, Private Collection. / Fig. 94. Charles Demuth, Bermuda Landscape, 1917, watercolor on paper, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, The Joseph H. Hirshhom Bequest, 1981. Fig. 95. Charles Demuth, Rooftops and Trees, 1918, watercolor and pencil, The Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Fig. 96. Paul Cezanne, Paysage de Provence, 1890-5 (RWC 390), pencil and watercolor on paper, Private Collection. Fig. 97. Paul Cezanne, Toits et arbre, 1888-90 (RWC 360), watercolor on paper, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam. Fig. 98. Paul Cezanne, Toits de L'Estaque, 1878-82 (RWC 116), pencil and watercolor on paper, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam. Fig. 99. Morton Scharnberg, Landscape (with Houses), 1910, oil on panel, Private Collection. Fig. 100. Paul Cezanne, Paysage, 1885-7 (V. 482), oil on canvas, present location unknown. Fig. 101. Morton Scharnberg, Seascape, 1910-11, pastel on board, Private Collection. Fig. 102. Morton Scharnberg, Still Life (Bowl and Grapes) , 1911, oil on board, Private Collection. Fig. 103. Morton Scharnberg, Studio Interior, ca. 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 104. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Victor Chocquet, 1879-82 (V. 373), oil on canvas, The Museum of Modem Art, New York. ; • ': J1 Fig. 105. Kitagawa Utamaro, The Artist Kitao Masanobu Relaxing at a Party, ca. 1788, color woodcut, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Fig. 106. Charles Sheeler, Plums on a Plate, 1910, oil on wood panel, Private Collection. Fig. 107. Charles Sheeler, Peaches in a White Plate, 1910, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 108. Paul Cezanne, Fruits sur la table, 1890-4 (V. 608), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. Fig. 109. Paul Cezanne, Quatre Peches sur une assiette, 1890-4 (V. 614), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. Fig. 110. Paul Cezanne, Un Coin de table, 1895-1900 (V. 746), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. Fig. 111. Morgan Russell, Bathers, ca. 1908, oil on masonite, Collection of George Hopper Fitch. Fig. 112. Paul Cezanne, Les Baigneurs, ca. 1895 (V. 724), oil on canvas, The Baltimore Museum of Art (The Cone Collection). Fig. 113. Paul Cezanne, Groupe de baigneurs, 1892-4 (V. 590), oil on canvas, The Barnes Foundation Collection, Merion, PA. Fig. 114 Morgan Russell, Nude Men on the Beach, 1910, oil on cardboard, Collection of Dr. and Mrs. William Q. Sturner. ' t ...:, ' ~f~ gI ...., ~ ... ·' Fig. 115 Morgan Russell, Pencil Sketch after Cezanne's "Baigneurs aux bras ecartes," 1910, Morgan Russell Archives, The Montclair Art Museum. Fig. 116. Morgan Russell, Apple Still Life, ca. 1910, oil on canvas, Morgan Russell Archives., The Montclair Art Museum. Fig. 117 Morgan Russell, Geranium, 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 118. Paul Cezanne, Les Petunias, 1875-6 (V. 198), oil on canvas, E. G. Biihrle Collection, Zurich. -. ~ . ·,..:.:-.~~~·-·­ Fig. 119. Morgan Russell, Three Apples, ca. 1910-15? oil on cardboard, The Museum of Modem Art, New York. Fig. 120. Morgan Russell, Apple and Pear Still Life, ca. 1915, oil on canvas, The Montclair Art Museum, Montclair, NJ. Fig. 121. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Still Life of Vase and Fruit, 1911­13, oil on panel, Private Collection. Fig. 122. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Portrait of the Artist's Brother, 1914, oil on canvas, The National Portrait Gallery, The Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D. C. Fig. 123. Paul Cezanne, Portrait de Gustave Geffroy, 1895 (V. 692), oil on canvas, Private Collection. '' ;.t ll Fig. 124. Stanton MacDonald-Wright, Still Life No. 1, 1916-17, oil on pasteboard, The Columbus Museum of Art. Fig. 125. Patrick Henry Bruce, Floral Still Life, ca. 1910, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 126. Patrick Henry Bruce, Leaves, 1912, oil on canvas, Private Collection. Fig. 127. Patrick Henry Bruce, Landscape, 1912, oil on canvas, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; Gift of William Kennedy and Benjamin F. Garber. J j /. Fig. 128. Paul Cezanne, Sentier en foret, 1882-4 (RWC 170), pencil and watercolor on paper, Private Collection. Fig. 129 Patrick Henry Bruce, Peinture, 1917-18, oil and pencil on canvas, Collection of Rolf Weinberg, Zurich. Fig. 130. Morgan Russell, Archaic Composition No. I, 1915, oil on canvas, The Museum of Modem Art, New York. Cezanne 1900 Apr­Oct 1900 1900 first Oct 1901 Mar 1-31 1901 May 9 ­Jun 12 1901 Apr 20 ­May 21 1902 1902 Mar­ May 1902 1903 Spring 1903 March 1903 April APPENDIX A jn European Art Exhjbjtjons. 1900-1920 (Public Salons and Private Galleries) Paris. Exposition Universelle. "Exposition centennale de l'art frarn;ais, 1800-1899." 3 oils. Paris. Auction of Eugene Blot Collection of May Modern Art. 5 oils Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. [One-man show: exhibition of Cezanne in Germany.] 12 works. Brussels. Salon de la Libre Esthetique. 2 works. The Hague. Eerste Internationale Tentoonstelling. 4 works. Paris. Salon des Artistes Inctependants. 2 oils.1 Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Paris. Salon des Artistes Independants. 3 oils. Aix. Societe des Amis des Arts. 2 works. Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession. 3 oils. Paris. Sale of Emile Zola's ten oil paintings by Cezanne. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Oeuvres de l 'ecole impressioniste. 621 1903 1904 Spring 1904 1904 Oct 15 ­Nov 15 1904 Oct ­Nov 1905 Jan­Feb 1905 Oct 18­ Nov 25 1905 Spring/ Summer 1906 Jan­Feb 1906 Feb-Mar 1906 Feb 20­Mar 14 1906 Vienna. Impressionisten ausstellung der Weiner Sezession. 7 works. Brussels. Salon de la Libre Esthetique: Exposition des peintres impressionistes. 9 works. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. [Second one-man show in Germany]. Paris. Salon d'Automne salle Cezanne. 30 oils, two drawings.2 Dresden. Galerie Emil Richter. [Impressionist Exhibition]. One or more works. London. Grafton Gallery (exhibition organized by Durand-Ruel). French Impressionist Pictures by Boudin. Cezanne. Degas. Manet. Monet. Morisot. Pissarro. Renoir. Sisley. 10 oils.3 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 10 oils. Paris. Galerie Ambroise Vollard. [Aquarelles de Cezanne] . London. New Gallery: Exhibition of the International Societv, 2 oils.4 Bremen. Kunstverein. Internationale Ausstellung. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Paris. Galerie Ambroise Vollard. 12 works. 1906 Oct­Nov 1906 1907 Mar 2­Apr 2 1907 June 17-29 1907 Sept­Oct 1907 Oct 1-22 1907 Oct­Nov 1907 Nov 14-30 1907 Dec 10-31 1907 Dec 15­Jan 4, 1908 1907-11 1908 Spring 1908 May­June Paris. Salon d'Automne. 10 works. Aix. Societe des Amis des Arts. 1 watercolor. Paris. Exposition d'Art Francais Contemporain. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Les Aquarelles de Cezanne. 79 watercolors. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Cezanne Aquarelles. 69 watercolors. Paris. Grand Palais. Salon d'Automne. Retrospective de Cezanne. 56 works, including 7 watercolors. Prague. Pavillon Manes. Tableaux Modernes. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Fleurs et natures mortes. Paris. Galerie Eugene Blot (Group Exhibition). Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Portraits d'hommes. Amsterdam. Rijksmuseum. (Long-term loan: Vase de fleurs et pommes. 1883-87, V. 513.) Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession. 2 watercolors. Paris. Galerie Durand-Ruel. Exposition de natures mortes par Monet. Cezanne. Renoir. 1908 July 1908 5 Oct 15­Nov 8 1908 Dec 21, 1908­Jan 16, 1909 1909 Spring 1909 May 3-15 1909 Nov 12­ Dec 4 1909 Nov­ Dec 1910 20 Jan 10-22 1910 Spring 1910 Apr 20­ May 15 1910 June­ August 1910 June­ Sept London. New Gallery. Exhibition of the International Society. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Ausstellun&. 4 oils, watercolors. Paris. Galerie Druet (Group Exhibition). Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Aguarelles et Pastels. 20 watercolors. Paris. Natures mortes et Fleurs. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Cezanne . Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Cezanne . 48 oils, watercolors. Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession. 1 oil. Florence. Lyceum. Brighton. Public Art Galleries. Modern French Artists. Paris. Galerie Ambroise Vollard. Figures de cezanner 24 works (portraits and figure paintings). 1910 Oct­Nov 1910 Nov 8, 1910­Jan 15, 1911 1911 March 1911 1911 1911 May 20­July 2 1911 1911 Oct 6­Nov 5 1911 November 1911 Winter 1912 1912 Jan­Feb 1912 April 1912 May 25­Sept 30 Leipzig. Ausstellung Franzosischer Kunst des 18. 19 und 20 Jahrhunderts. London. Grafton Gallery. Manet and the Post­Impressioni sts. 21 works. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. L'eau. Munich. Alte Pinakothek. Collection Nemes. Dilsseldorf. Stadtische Kunsthalle. Ausstellun~ des Sonderbundeswestdeutscher Kunstfreunde und Kunstler. 3 watercolors, oils (?). Budapest. Musee des Beaux-Arts. Collection Nemes.Amsterdam. Stedelijk Museum. Moderne Kunst London. Stafford Gallery. [Cezanne and Gauguin]. Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession XXIII, Graphics . St. Petersburg. Exposition centennale d'art franc;ais. Vienna. Galerie Miethke. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer Cologne. Stadtische Ausstellungshalle. Sonderbund Internationale Kunstausstellung. 2 6 oils, 2 watercolors. 1912 July 1912 July 18­Sept 30 1912 Oct 1­Nov 8 1912 Oct 5­Dec 31 1912 1912 1912 Oct 1913 Jan-Feb 1913 Mar 8­Apr 13 1913 Spring 1913 May-Oct 1913 May-Jun 1913 Hagen. Folkwang Museum. Modeme Kunst. Frankfurt. Ausstellung Frankfuerter Kunstverein. Die Klassische Malerei Frankreichs im 19. Jahrhunderts. Paris. Sal on d' Automne. "Exposition de portraits du XIXe Siecle." London. Grafton Gallery. Second Post­Impressionist Exhibition. 5 oils, 6 watercolors.5 Paris. Galerie Manzi, Joyant & Cie. Exposition d'Art Moderne. Diisseldorf. Stadtische Kunsthalle. Collection Nemes. Munich. Modem Galerie. Vienna. Galerie Miethke. Brussels. Salon de la Libre Esthetique. Interpretations du Midi. 3 watercolors (oils?) Berlin. Ausstellung der Berliner Sezession. Stuttgart: Kunstgebaude. Grosse Kunstausstel lung. Darmstadt. Gemaelde-Sammlung G.F. Reber. Barmen. 14 works. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Summer Sommerausstellung. 14 works. 1913 Oct -Nov 1913 1913 Nov­Dec 1913 Nov 1913 1914 Jan 6 -17 1914 8 Feb 1­ Mar 31 1914 Feb-June 1914 Spring 1914 Apr ­ May 1914 Apr­ Sept 1914 Summer 1914 1914 May 15­Cologne. Kunstverein Gemaldegalerie. Er<>ffnun gausstellung. Rome. Prima Esposizione Internazionale d'Arte della Secessione. Paris. Galerie Eugene Blot. (Aquarelles de Cezanne]. 24 or 26 watercolors. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Budapest. Ernest Museum. FranzOsische Malerei des 19. Jahrhunderts. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Cezanne. Oils, 7 watercolors. Bremen. Kunsthalle. Internationale Ausstellung. watercolors (oils?). Rome. Secessione. II. Internazionale. 13 watercolors (oils?). Paris. Musee du Louvre (acquires 5 paintings by Cezanne: Count Isaac de Camondo Bequest). Dresden. Galerie Ernst Arnold. FranzOsische Malerei des 19. Jahrhunderts. 8 watercolors (oils?). Berlin. Ausstellung der Freie Sezession. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Sommerausstellung. 7 watercolors(oils?). Paris. Galerie Ambroise Vollard. Paul Cezanne. Copenhagen. Statens Musseum for Kunst. Fransk Malerkonst d. 19 Jahrhonderts. June 30 1914 1915 1915 1916 Oct 29­Nov 26 1917 June 14-23 1917 Nov 1918 3 Jan­Feb 1919 1919 1919 Dec 18­Jan 20 1919­ 1920 1920 Apr 19 ­ May 8 1920 July 1920 Dec 1-18 London. Grosvenor House. Modern French Art. Berlin. Galerie Paul Cassirer. Paris. Galerie Manzie, Joyant & Cie. Exposition d'Art Modeme. Winterthur. Kunstwerein. Ausstellung FranzOsischer Malerei. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Exposition de peinture modeme. Zurich. Kunsthaus. FranzOsische Kunst des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts. Oslo. Kunstnerforbundet. Den franske Utstilling. watercolors. Paris. Galerie Cres (org. by Vollard). Paul Cezanne. Budapest. Muscamok. First Exhibition of Socialized Art Treasures. Paris. Galerie C. Cres. Les Independants. London. Chelsea Book Club. "French Drawings and Watercolours." Paris. Galerie d'Art des Editions C. Cres. Exposition de portraits. Paris. Galerie Druet. [Cezanne Drawings and Watercolors]. Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Exposition Cezanne. 33 oils, some watercolors. 1920 Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Exposition de Feb 16­ paysages impressionists. Mar 4 1920 London. Victoria Art Gallery. Exhibition of Modem Art. 1920 Venice. XII Esposizione intemazionale d' Arte dell a Citta di Venezia. Mostra individuale di Paul Cezanne. 28 works. NOIES Maurice Denis exhibits his painting Homage a Cezanne, 1900, at this Independants. In the painting, Odilon Redon, Edouard Vuillard, Andre Mellerio, Ambriose Vollard, Maurice Denis, Paul Serusier, and four others, standing around a still-life by Cezanne. It is a public manifestation of admiration of and respect for Cezanne by a new generation of artists. 2 In a separate section of the 1904 Salon d'Automne, photographs of works by Cezanne were displayed for the first time. 3 Paintings by Cezanne exhibited in this show were: Les Petites maisons a Auvers, 1873-4 (V. 156); Le Mur d'enceinte, 1875-6 (V. 158); La Cote des boeufs, 1875-7 (V. 173); Vase de fleurs, 1873-7 (V. 181); Pommes et gateaux, 1873-7 (V. 196); Un Dessert, 1873-7 (V. 197); Le Plat de pommes, 1873-7 (V. 207); Portrait de Chocquet, 1879­82 (V. 373); Le Verger, 1885-6 (V. 442): and Vase de tulips, 1890-4 (V. 618). 4 Cezanne's two oil pamtmgs in the show were: Nature morte noire et blanche, 1871-2 (V. 70) and Le Bassin du las de Bouffan, ca. 1878 (V. 164). 5 The exhibition at the Grafton Gallery was extended into January 1913, at which time a second installment included more oils and watercolors by Cezanne. See Douglas Cooper, "The Post­Impressionist Phase," p. 55, n. 5. APPENDIX B Cezanne jp New York City Art Exhjbjtiops. 1910-19201 1910 Photo-Secession Galleries. Drawings bv Rodin. Nov 18-Paintings by Henri Rousseau: Lithographs by Manet. Dec 8 Cezanne. Rodin. ToulouseLautrec. (Weber's Druet photographs of works by Cezanne also displayed). 1. Baigneurs (Bathers), small color lithograph, V. 1156, 1896-7.2 2. Baigneurs (Bathers), large color lithograph, V. 1157, 1896-8. 1911 Photo-Secession Galleries. Watercolors bv Cezanne. Mar 1-25 20 watercolors and 1 oil.3 1. (Landscape). 2. Coin du Lac d'Annecy (Boat in front of Trees), RWC 472, 1896. 3. La Futaie (A Curtain of Trees), RWC 233, 1880-85. 4. Arbres se croissant au bord de l'eau (Trees in Aix), RWC 484, 1896. 5. Le Puits dans le pare de Chateau Noir (The Fountain), RWC 428,1895-98. 6. Group d'arbres (Tree Study), RWC 235, c. 1885. 7. Etude d'arbe (Chestnut Tree), RWC 287, c. 1890. 8. La Montagne Sainte-Victoire (Mount Victoire), RWC 279, 1885-7. 9. (Still Life) 10. (Landscape). 11. Etude de Feuillage (Green Turf), RWC 551, 1900-04. 12. Paysage de Provence (Houses and Trees), RWC 390,1890-95. 13. Le Viaduc (The Bridge), RWC 326,1888-92. 14. Puits et route tournante dans le pare de Chateau noir (The Winding Way), RWC 513, c. 1900. 15. Laveuses (The Washerwomen), RWC 103, c. 1880. 16. Arbes et rochers (Tree Trunks), RWC 328, c. 1890. 17. Toits et arbre (Gables), RWC 360, 1888-90. 18. Gar~on lisant (Reading), RWC 187, c. 1885 19. Madame Cezanne aux hortensias (Hortensia), RWC 209, c. 1885. 20. (Landscape). 631 Feb 17 ­Mar 15 1914 Feb 1 1916 Jan 21. (Still Life with Apples and Peaches), oil, 1905 (not catalogued by Venturi).4 69th Infantry and Regiment Armory. International Exhibition of Modern Art. 13 oils, 2 lithographs, 1 watercolor.5 1. La Vieille au Chapelet (Femme au chapelet) oil, V. 702, 1900-4. 2. Cezanne coiffe d'un chapeau mou (Portrait de Cezanne), oil, V. 579, 1890-94. 3. Quatre Baigneuses (Baigneuses), oil, V. 384, 1879-82. 4. La Colline des pauvres (Colline des pauvres), oil, V. 660, 1888-94. 5. La Campagne d'Auvers (Auvers), oil, V. 312, 1879-82. 6. Portrait de Boyer (Portrait de Boyer), oil, V. 130, 1870-71. 7. Paysage pres du las de Bouffan (Melun), oil, V. 304, 1878-83. 8. Portrait de Madame Cezanne (Portrait of Madame Cezanne) oil, V. 229, 1872-77. 9. Flowers (oil). 10. Les Moissonneurs (Harvesters), oil, V. 1517, 1875-8. *Lent by Professor John 0. Sumner of Boston. 11. La Route (The Road), oil, V. 52, 1871-2. 12. Cezanne au chapeau melon (Portrait de Cezanne), oil, V. 514, 1883-7. 13. Portrait de Madame Cizanne (Portrait of Madame Cezanne), oil, V. 520, c. 1885. 14. Baigneurs (small color lithograph), V. 1156, 1896­ 7. 15. Baigneurs (large color lithograph), V. 1157, 1896­ 8. 16. Untitled watercolor (probably Le Puits dans le pare de Chateau Noir, RWC 428,1895-98).6 Bourgeois Gallery. (Group Exhibition). 1 oil. 1. Cezanne coiffe d'un chapeau mou, oil, V. 579, 1890-4. Montross Gallery. Cezanne. 7 or 8 oils, 30 watercolors, all on consignment from the Bernheim-Jeune Gallery in Paris. 1. Montagnes de Provence (Fran~ois Zola Dam) oil, V. 490, 1886-90. 2. Nature morte avec /'amour en platre (Still Life with Plaster Cupid) oil, V. 706, 1895. 3. La Mer a L'Estaque (L'Estaque), oil, V. 406, 1882-85. 4. Cezanne a la palette (Portrait of a Man) oil, V. 516, 1885-87. 5. Route tournante en sous-bois (Road in a Forest) oil, v. 140, 1873-75. 6. Bouteille de liqueurs (Still Life with Rum Bottle), oil, V. 606, 1888-90. 7. La Moulin a huile (Landscape) (The Oil Mill), oil, V. 136, 1870-71. 8. Pommes et tube de coleurs (Seven Apples), oil, v. 195, 1873-77. Watercolors: 1. Nature morte avec pasteque et grenades (The Watermelon), RWC 561, 1900-6. 2. Maison sur une co/line aux environs d'Aix (The House on the Hill), RWC 464, 1895-1900. 3. La Futaie (The Forest), RWC 233, 1880-5. 4. Pro/ii de rocher pres des grottes au-dessus de Chateau Noir (Trees Amongst Rocks), RWC 436,1 895-1 900. 5. La Montagne Sainte-Victoire (Trees on the Mountain), RWC 499, c. 1900 6. Branches et rochers (Trees at the Side of a Mountain), RWC 351, c. 1890. 7. Arbres et roches (Tree Trunks), RWC 328, c. 1890. 8. Corbeille defruits (The Basket), RWC 226, c. 1890. 9. Trois Hommes dans un canot (The Fishermen), RWC 104, c. 1880. 10. Madame Cezanne aux hortensias (The Hortensia), RWC 209, c. 1885. 11. Rose dans le verdure (Flowers), RWC 548, 1895­1900. 12. Route entre des rochers a Bibemus (The Ditch), RWC 448, 1895-1900. 13. Roche rs pres des grottes au-dessus de Chateau Noir (Rocky Ridge), RWC 435, 1895-1900. 14. Dans la foret, I (The Ravine), RWC 422, 1895-8. 15. La Feuillee (Foliage), RWC 339, c. 1890. 16. Le Chemin (The Road), RWC 332, c. 1890. 17. Rochers pres des grottes au-dessus de Chateau Noir (The Rocks), RWC 433, 1895-1900. 18. Rochers a Bibemus (The Ledge), RWC 306, 1887-90. 19. Etude defeuillage (Verdure), RWC 551,1900-4. 20. Toits et arbre (The Gables), RWC 360, 1888-90. 21. Gardanne, le vieux pont (Bridge), RWC 248, 1885-6. Jan 5-29 1916 Jan 25­Feb 9 1916 Feb 12(?)­Mar 4 1916 April 1916 Apr 29­June 10 1916 1 Nov 27­ Dec 16 1917 March M. Knoedler Gallery. Exhibition of Paintings by Contemporary French Artists. 2 oils. 1. La Conversation (The Two Sisters), oil, V. 120, 1870­ 71. 2. Mer de l'Estaque (The Roofs of L'Estaque), oil, V. 405, 1882-85. Modern Gallery. Paintings by Cezanne: African Negro Sculpture 2 oils, 2 watercolors, 1 lithograph. 1. Bouquet de fleurs (oil), V. 757, 1902-3. 2. Chateau Noir (oil), V. 796, c. 1904. 3. Baigneuses sous un port, RWC 601, 1900-06. 4. Toits de L'Estaque, RWC 116, 1878-82. 5. Baigneurs, lithograph, V. 1156 or V. 1157. Modem Gallery. Paintings by Cezanne. Van Gogh Picasso. Picabia. Brague. Diego Rivera. 2 oils, 2 watercolors, 1 lithograph. Bourgeois. Paintings. Drawings and Sculpture Arranged by A Selected Group of Americans. Modem Gallery. Paintings by Cezanne. Van Gogh Picasso. Picabia. Diego Rivera. 2 unidentified landscapes. M. Knoedler Gallery. Foreign and American Painters. oil ("Landscape"). Arden Gallery. Cezanne Retrospective. At least 9 works. 1. La Route (The Road), oil, V. 52, 1871-2. 2. Portrait de Madame Cezanne (Madame Cezanne) oil, V.229, 1872-77. 3. L'Enlevement (The Abduction) oil, V. 101, 1867. 4. Bouquet de fleurs (Bouquet of Flowers) V. 757, 1902­ 3. 5. Bouteille de liqueurs (Still Life with Rum Bottle) v. 606, 1888-90. 6. Portrait de Vallier (The Sailor) oil, V. 716, 1904-5. 7. Portrait de Gustave Boyer (Portrait de Gustave Boyer) oil, V. 130, 1870-71 . 8. Le Chateau Noir (Chateau Noir) oil, V. 796, c. 1904. 9. (Still Life with Fruit and Flower Holder). 1919 Arden Gallery. Exhibition Illustrating the Evolution Apr 29-of French Art from Ingres and Delacroix to the Latest May 24 Manifestations. 6 watercolors, 3 lithographs, 2 etchings, 1 drawing w/color. 1. Profil de rocher pres des grottes au-dessus de Chateau Noir (TheTrees) RWC 436,1895-1900. 2. Rochers pres des grottes au-dessus de Chateau Noir (Trees and Rocks) RWC 435, 1895-1900. 3. La Montagne Sainte-Victoire (The Mountain) RWC 395, c. 1895. 4. La Cathedrale d'Aix vue de /'atelier (Landscape) RWC 581, 1902-4. 5. (Landscape) RWC 390 or 590, 1890-5 or 1902-6.7 6. (Landscape) RWC 390 or 590, 1890-5 or 1902-6. 7. (Landscape) (drawing with touches of color) 8. Baigneurs, lithograph, V. 1156, 1896-7. 9. Baigneurs, lithograph, V. 1157, 1896-8.8 1919 Marius De Zayas Gallery. Exhibition of Paintings by Nov 17-Courbet. Manet. Degas. Renoir. Cezanne. Seurat. Dec 6 Matisse. 2 oils. 1. Bouteille de liqueurs (Still Life), V. 606, 1888-90. 2. Le Grand baigneur (Figures and Landscape), V. 548, 1885-7. 1920 Montross Gallery. Cezanne Watercolors. At least 9 Feb 10-21 watercolors: all were lent by Bernheim-Jeune. 1. Les Fossoyeurs and Etude de Tete, RWC 27, 1868-72. 2. Personnages au bord de l'eau, RWC 55, c. 1877. 3. Le Concert champerre, d'apres Giorgione, RWC 65, c. 1878. 4. Baigneurs, RWC 130, 1885-90. 5. Carafe et couteau, RWC 202,. c. 1882 6. La Buire et la soupiere, RWC 294, 1888-90. 7. La Barriere a Chantilly, RWC 308, 1888. 8. La Montagne Sainte-Victoire vue des environs de Sainte-Marc, RWC 598, c. 1906. 9. Baigneuses sous un pont, RWC 601, c. 1900. 1920 The Colony Club. A Selected Group of Modem Mar 26-French and American Paintings. 1 oil. Apr 4 1. Bouteille de liqueurs (Still Life with Rum Bottle), v. 606, 1888-90.9 1920 Metropolitan Museum of Art. Fiftieth Anniversarv May 7­ Exhibition. 2 oils. Nov 1 1. Portrait de Madame Cezanne (Madame Cezanne), V. 229, 1872-7. 2. Portrait de Vallier (The Old Sailor), V. 716, 1904-5. 1920 De Zayas Gallery. [Exhibition of French and Sept American Artists: Asiatic Arts and African Sculpture.) Dec 1920 De Zayas Gallery. Cezanne Watercolors. Nov 1 For purposes of identification, references are made to works by initials and numbers that correspond to two catalogue raisonnes of Cezanne's works: for oils and lithographs "V." and number relates to a listing in Lionello Venturi, Cezanne. son art. son oeuvre. 2 vols. (1936; New Edition, San Francisco, 1989); and for watercolors "RWC" and number accords with John Rewald, Paul Cezanne: The Watercolors A Catalogue Raisonne (Boston and London, 1983). The dates for oils are dates assigned by Venturi; the dates for watercolors are Rewald's attributions. Because exhibition catalogue listings were often incomplete or nonexistent, the number of Cezanne's works in a show in some instances does not represent a settled consensus among scholars. When in question, the appendix reflects the opinion of the most recent scholarship. The titles of Cezanne's works varied enormously from one exhibition checklist to another. For the sake of consistency, titles in this appendix are the ones either Rewald or Venturi gave to works, occasionally with the English title from an exhibition catalogue in parenthesis. Not all Cezanne works in American exhibitions were listed in either Rewald's or Venturi's catalogue raisonnes and thus cannot be identified. 2 The lithographs bear the Venturi title and catalogue raisonne number; however, the dates of the lithographs given here (which Venturi lists as 1890-1900) are from Douglas Druick, "Cezanne's Lithographs" in The Late Cezanne. William R. Rubin, ed. exh. cat. (New York: The Museum of Modem Art, 1977): 119-37. 3 French titles are RWC titles. Titles in parentheses are the ones that appeared in the exh. catalogue checklist. The same format continues throughout this appendix when a catalogue accompanied the show. For this first exhibition of Cezanne's watercolors in the U.S., Edward Steichen had acquired the works on consignment from the Bernheim-Jeune Gallery in Paris. Out of the twenty watercolors that Stieglitz exhibited, only one was bought. 4 Oil painting loaned to exhibit by Agnes Ernst Meyers (Meyers bought this painting in Paris in 1910 on the advice of E. Steichen from either Vollard or Durand-Ruel). 5 French titles are Venturi titles. Titles in parentheses are the ones that appeared in the exh. catalogue checklist. The same format continues throughout this appendix when a catalogue accompanied the show. 6 See Rewald, Cezanne and America, p. 470. 7 RWC 390 Paysage de Provence, 1890-95. RWC 590 La Montagne Sainte-Victoire, vue des Lauves. 1902-06. 8 The third lithograph could have been Portrait de Cezanne. V. 1158, 1896-8. Cezanne's entire output of prints consisted of these three lithographs and five etchings (Druick, 1977, p. 119). 9 In Knoedler's microfiche of catalogues, the painting is described as "still life lent by Miss Bliss." Lillie Bliss owned V. 606 at the time, and had previously loaned it to the Arden Gallery in March 1917. A founder of the Museum of Modem Art in New York, Miss Bliss first bought a work by Cezanne at the Armory Show in 1913. Later, she expanded her collection to include twenty-six Cezannes. APPENDIX C Tep Amerjcap Early Modernjsts jp European apd New York Cjty Exhjbjtjops. 1900-1920 I. Patrick Henry Bruce (1881-1936) 1904 New York. National Academy of Design. Jan2-30 1904 Paris. Salon de Societe National des Beaux-Arts. 3 works. Apr 17­Jun 30 1905 New York. Society of American Artists. 1 work. 1905 Paris. Salon de Societe National des Beaux-Arts. 2 works. Apr 15­Jun 30 1905 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 2 works. Oct 18­Nov 25 1906 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 3 works. Oct 6­Nov 15 1907 New York. New York School of Art Exhibition. Apr 22­May 4 1907 Paris. Grand Palais. Salon d'Automne. 3 works. Oct 1-22 1910 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 1 work. Oct 1­Nov 8 1911 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 2 works. Oct 1­Nov 8 639 I. Patrick Henry Bruce 1912 Mar 20­May 16 1912 May 25­Sept 30 1912 Oct 1­Nov 8 1913 Feb 17­Mar 15 1913 Mar 19­May 18 1913 Apr ­May 1913 Sept 20­Dec 1 1913 Oct ­Nov 1913 Nov 15­Jan 5, 1914 1914 Feb­Mar Paris. Salon des Independants. 3 works. Cologne. Stadtische Ausstellungshalle. Sonderbund InternationaleKunstausstellung. 1 work. [Also included works by Cezanne, Gauguin, Munch, Picasso, Van Gogh and others.] Paris. Salon d'Automne. 4 works. New York. 69th Infantry Regiment and Armory. International Exhibition of Modem Art. 4 oils [three dated 1910, one 1911; all titled Nature morte]. Paris. Salon des Ind¢pendants. 3 works. Budapest. Muveszhaz. Nemzetkozi Postimpresszionista Kiallitas. 4 works. Berlin. Der Strum Gallery. Erster Deutscher Herbstsalon. 2 works. Berlin. Neue Galerie. Erste Ausstellung. 4 works. Paris. Salon d'Automne. 2 works. Prague. Manes. Modemi Umeni.XXXXV. 2 works. I Patrjck 1914 Mar 1­Apr 30 1914 May 16 ­June 7 1916 Nov 21­ Dec 6 1917 Mar 12-28 1917 Apr 10­May 6 1917 Oct 27­Nov 9 1918 March 1919 Nov 1­Dec 10 1920 Jan 28­Feb 29 1920 Apr 30­Jun 15 1920 Jun 17 ­Aug 1 Henrv Bruce Paris. Salon des Inctependants. 1 work. Brussels. Galerie Georges Giroux. Salon des Artistes Independants de Paris. 1 work. New York. Montross Gallery. [Solo Exhibition]. 33 paintings. New York. Modem Gallery. Paintin&s by Patrick H. Bruce. New York. Society of Independent Artists. New York. Penguin Club. 1 work. New York. Penguin Club. Contemporary Art. 1 work. Paris. Salon d'Automne. 2 works. Paris. Salon des Independants. 6 works. New York. Galleries of the Societe Anonyme. [one or more of thesix Compositions] others in show: Brancusi, Duchamp, Scharnberg, Man Ray, Picabia and more. New York. Galleries of the Societe Anonyme. [one or more of the six Compositions] 642 1920 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 2 works. Oct 15­Dec 12 II. Charles 1914 Oct ­Nov 1915 until Oct 26 1915 Oct 30­Nov 9 1916 Nov 1916 Dec 1917 Feb 1917 Apr 10­May 6 1917 April 1917 Summer 1917 1917 Nov 1918 Mar 1918 Apr Demuth (1883-1935) New York. Daniel Gallery. Watercolors by Charles Demuth. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Opening Exhibition. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Watercolors by Charles Demuth. New York. Ardsley Gallery. Important Exhibitions of Modem Art. (Group show, included works by Prendergast). NYC. Daniel Gallery. Watercolors by Charles Demuth. NYC. The Gamut Club. An Exhibition of Futurist Paintings by American Artists. NYC. Grand Central Palace. Society of Independent Artists. First Annual Exhibition. Daniel Gallery. Group Exhibitiion. NYC. Ardsley Gallery. Works by M. Sterne. A. W alkowitz. C. Demuth. B. Karfoil. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Opening Exhibitions of Modem Oct Americans. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Watercolors by Charles Demuth and Oils by Edward Fiske. NYC. The Penguin Club. Exhibition of Contemporary Art. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Exhibition of Watercolors and Drawings by Charles Demuth. II. Charles Demuth 1919 Apr 1919 Apr 1919 Dec-Jan 1920 1920 1920 Dec 1920 NYC. The Penguin Club. Exhibitions of Paintin&s. Sculpture. Etc. by a Contemporary Group. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Annual Watercolor Exhibition by ModernAmericans. NYC. Daniel Gallery.Watercolors by Demuth. Marin. Morton.Zorach and Zarrow. NYC. Daniel Gallery. [Group Show, Paintings by Demuth, Hartley, Macdonald-Wright, Sheeler and others]. NYC. Daniel Gallery. Paintin&s by Charles Demuth. Montross Gallery. Ill. Marsden Hartley (1877-1943) 1909 May 8 -18 NYC. Photo-Secession Galleries. Exhibition Oil by Mr. Marsden Hartley of Maine. of Paintings in 1910 Mar 9 -21 Photo-Secession Galleries. Younger American Painters. 1911 Mar 26 -Apr 21 Gallery of the Society of Beaux Independent Exhibition. Arts Architects. An 1912 Feb 7 -26 Photo-Secession Galleries. by Marsden Hartley. Recent Paintings and Drawings 1913 Feb 17 -Mar 15 69th Infantry Exhibition of Regiment and Armony. International Modem Art. 2 oils, 6 drawings. 1913 Spring Munich. Hans Goltz Gallery. 1913 July Munich. Neue Kunst Salon of Max Dietzel. 1913 Sept 20 Dec 1 - Berlin. Der Strum Gallery. Erster Deutscher Herbstsalon. 1914 Jan 12 -Feb 14 Photo-Secession Galleries. Paintings by Marsden Hartley. 1915 Jan -Feb NYC. Daniel Gallery. Paintings Mountain Series. bv Marsden Hartley: The 1915 May Daniel Gallery. [Group Exhibition of 15 Painters]. 1915 Sept Frankfurt, Germany. Schames Galerie. 45 Drawings. 1915 Berlin. Munchner Graphik-Verlag. III. Marsden Hartley 1916 Jan NYC. The Gamut Club. Modernists]. [Group Exhibition of 10 American 1916 Mar 13 -25 Anderson Gallery. Painters. Forum Exhibition of Modem American 1916 Apr 4 -May 22 Photo-Secession Galleries. Paintings by Marsden Hartley. 1916 Oct Daniel Gallery. [Group Exhibition]. 1916 Dec Ardsley Studios. Important Exhibition of Modem Art: Impressionism. post-Impressionism and Cubism. [Group show: works by Hartley and Marin, along with Alfred Maurer (1868-1932), Man Ray (1890-1976), Abraham Walkowitz (1880-1965), Marguerite (1887-1968) and William Zorach (1887-1966).] 1917 Jan 22 -Feb 7 Photo-Secession Hartley. Galleries. Recent Work by Marsden 1917 Jan­Feb Daniel Gallery. Paintings by Marsden Hartley. 1917 Ardsley Studios. Hartley. Morton Works by Honore L. Scharnberg. Dawnier. Marsden Mar 1917 Apr 10 -May 6 Grand Central Palace. First Annual Society of Independent Artists. Exhibition of the 1918 January Daniel Gallery. 1920 Jan 2 -21 Daniel Gallery. Recent Paintings by Marsden Hartley. 1920 Montross Gallery. Early Works by Arthur B. Davis. Robert April Henri. William J. Glackens. Maurice Prendergast. Marsden Hartley. and Charles Prendergast. Exhibits pastels. 1920 Societe Anonyme, Inc. [Group Show]. Nov 1­ Dec 15 1920 Daniel Gallery. [Group Show: pamtmgs by Demuth, Hartley, Macdonald-Wright, Sheeler and others]. IV. Stanton Macdonald-Wright (1890-1973) 1911 Oct 1­Nov 8 Paris. Salon d'Automne. 1912 Mar 20­May 16 Paris. Salon des lndependants. 1913 Mar 19­May 18 Paris. Salon des Independants. 1913 June 1 -30 Munich. Der Neue Kunstsalon. Ausstellung der Synchromisten Morgan Russell. S. Macdonald-Wright. 1913 Oct 27 -Nov 8 Paris. Galerie Bernheim-Jeune. Les Synchromistes Macdonald-Wright et Morgan Russell. S. 1914 Mar 2 -16 NYC. Carroll Gallery. Exhibition of Synchromist by Morgan Russell and S. Macdonald-Wright. Paintings 1914 May 1­Apr 30 Paris. Salon des ln