Since 1903, members of Arts and Letters have delivered commemorative tributes to fellow members who have passed away. These remarks celebrate and reflect on the lives and work of the members being honored and acknowledge their contribution to the arts. A selection of tributes is now available in the digital archive below. As we prepared this archive, we were reminded that these tributes reflect their times, and, in some instances, include terminology and social and moral judgments we do not endorse.
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I met Robert Laurent for the first time in 1927 at the Art Students League where I attended his class in wood carving. I was young then, and he made a deep, unforgettable impression upon me. He seemed tall, although he was really of medium height, rugged, rosy-cheeked, with blue-green eyes, curly locks on his forehead, dressed usually in a tweed jacket and checkered shirt. Quiet, gentle, and courteous, he never forced himself upon the students; he was not didactic. He would criticize only when the student asked him.
Years later I met him again at one of the Salons of America Exhibitions. He was one of the organization's directors. From that time on I followed his work with much admiration.
Robert Laurent was one of the first American sculptors to revive the art of direct carving in wood. His carvings on paneled furniture were distinguished by a naive, rustic, folklore quality. He loved the female figure. In the Radio City Music Hall in New York City, there is a more than life-size sculpture called "Goose Girl," which he executed in 1932. It is a voluptuous, sensuous figure, traditional, but very, very skillfully done.
In 1959 I visited him at the American Academy in Rome. At the time he was working on a monumental fountain for the University of Indiana, where he had for many years been chairman of the Art Department. The sculpture for the fountain was a huge reclining female with a Greek-like head, windblown hair, oversized full breasts and hips, and unusually graceful ankles. In spite of or because of the obvious exaggerations, it was an impressive and moving work of art. Among other works, his figures in luminous white alabaster and especially his carvings of plants and flowers stand out significantly and memorably.
In 1939 Laurent and I were commissioned by the Section of Fine Arts, Washington, D. C., to do several over life-size sculptures for the World's Fair in New York, to be placed in their Avenue of the Court of Peace. Working in the same studio for a long time, we got to know each other better, and daily became more friendly. One day he invited me to his home in Brooklyn Heights to show me his great collection of Jules Pascin drawings, which he kept in vast portfolios. In his home and studio the walls were covered with other works of art. An insatiable collector, he got a kick out of bartering with other artists.
I felt very close to him. He was a kindred spirit.