Arts and Letters

Edward McCartan's sculpture is simple and direct. It needs no luscious foreword in a catalogue to explain its meaning. McCartan's concern was with the beauty of nature and with his delight in expressing it. His work is harmonious and lucid, classic in outward form, warmed and vitalized by appreciation of the profane virtues. He married spirit and substance most happily.

Clarity of design and felicity of execution mark all McCartan's sculpture from his early "Spirit of the Woods" to his later "Diana." Indeed, clarity was one of McCartan's greatest strengths, clarity of mind as well as of inspiration, and his artistic singleness of purpose stands out sharp and clear against the background of our times, his conviction and serenity contrasting strongly with the intellectual uncertainty and groping of many of those about him.

His qualities of mind and spirit found their destined home in the continuing stream of classic tradition, and he swam the broad tide freely and happily. His work has special affinities with the eighteenth century French masters in the Louvre, and in the gardens of Versailles. From these sympathies his own beautiful work developed, not in any sense as an imitation of these masters, but as though he spoke a language of his own, which in spirit was akin to theirs. His work like theirs is free from pompous overtones and goes directly to its business of expressing delight in the sensual world.

McCartan's groups and single figures are distinguished by beauty of line, supported by sure and firm modelling and an exquisitely sensuous appreciation of form. Many of his major successes were achieved in sculpture for gardens and in these works the silhouette of the figure or group was one of his preoccupations; and his emphasis on its importance may have come from study at Versailles, where firm and emphatic outline is essential to compete against the complexity of nature. His silhouette is never fantastic or arbitrary; it grows naturally and inevitably from the inner meaning of his subject.

For the artist as well as the layman McCartan's sculpture is easy to look at; and one of the reasons that we can look at it with unalloyed pleasure is his technical perfection and mastery. No sculptor of his time surpassed him in knowledge of form and in penetration of its complexity and never completely explored mystery. Laymen delight in the charm and beauty of his subject matter, and his brothers in the craft acclaim his master-workmanship. The perfect fusion of these two excellencies is the cornerstone of his high and enviable reputation. He was the complete artist.

It is easier to write of McCartan's sculpture than of his personality. The tenor of his life was in contrast to the mood of his sculpture, for it was muted and in the minor key. There was something of twilight about him, or rather of an overcast morning with the sun behind the clouds. These luminous shadows of his nature were offset by more earthy qualities, good outspoken common sense, a sharp sense of irony and true friendliness of heart. His friends respected his personal reserve and the barriers he raised to intimacy, and loved him for his good will, his constancy and the indefinable charm of his companionship. He was a man to trust and cherish.

He loved nature, young animals, and the ways of growing things, which took less from his energy than people did, and would spend hours watching their habits with closest attention. People interested him less, perhaps, than a fawn or the tendrils of a grapevine, but he studied them, too, with sardonic and amused interest. Country life delighted his mind and eye and he was never happier than when wandering the countryside.

McCartan's participation in art activities was continuous and disinterested, and he was much sought after to fill responsible positions, whose duties he discharged with uniform success. His interest in art was as intense as it was restricted. He heartily disliked the theories of modern art, and his craftsman's conscience could not tolerate methods of expression which he regarded as degrading all standards of fine workmanship.

He lived a life of Spartan simplicity, on a narrow margin of security, with ill-health always at his shoulder. He possessed fortitude to an unusual degree, never expressing self-pity. This quality was poignantly evident in the last years of his losing fight against disease.

Despite the sober monotone of McCartan's outer existence, his inner life was glowing and vital. Of these inner fires he never spoke, but that they were sufficiently cordial and invigorating we know by his steady spiritual balance and the optimism of his sculpture. The essential charm and quality of McCartan's personality elude the written word, yet his memory still refreshes and fortifies the hearts of his many devoted friends.