In sculpture the actual mark of the tool (see TECHNIQUE IN ART) is not so beautiful in itself, nor so sensitive a reflection of the mood and character of the artist as it is in painting. This is undoubtedly because the medium of the sculptor is a more difficult one to handle, but nevertheless the sculptor must consider this ques tion and he must be very careful, if for instance, he is working in clay or plasticine, that his final bronze does not express the soft plastic appearance which he has imparted to the original sub stance, upon which he has left the casual marks of his tools or even his fingers. One cannot leave a deep thumb impression on bronze, and there is no excuse for leaving it on the clay image from which the bronze is to be cast, for this gives a false impression of the qualities of the final material in which the work of art is to be seen.
Some sculptors not only show great skill in the proper expres sion of their tools and the impres sion they make on the medium, but form a personal technique suitable to the subjects they are portraying. Thus MestroviC has developed a technique peculiarly personal and peculiarly suitable to the wood in which he often works ; and Rodin not only em ployed - a personal, appropriate and vital method of treating thesmoother surfaces of his figures but also, as a gesture effective in its qualities of contrast, left rough tool marks on the surrounding stone (cf . Plate I., fig. 2).
The sculptor must, however, be very careful that this personal use of tools does not become an affectation. It should be natural, human and appropriate to the medium and should be chosen only because it is suitable to what the sculptor wishes to express. Modern critics would do well to point out the frequent insincere use of what might be termed personal textures of tool marks which are employed by some sculptors as a trade-mark.
Structural and rhythmical modelling that is true in its portrayal of the artist's theme and which conveys some of the original emotional thrill of beauty which gave to the artist the creative urge is attained only after the artist mastered and balanced his whole array of technical forces. This is well shown by Arthur Lee's figure, "Rhythm." It is this perfect conception upheld by a perfect technique which puts the breath of life into his work and even the master cannot be always sure of grasping it. But one thing is certain and that is that this life must be drawn from the great tumult of life with which nature surrounds us. Perhaps
one model will not suffice for the sculptor; he may have to resort to two or three and perhaps even they are not sufficient, so that he will find himself forced to create details which he remembers from still other models, but it is certain that in the expression of this quality of vital force the artist is but the translator of an epic inscribed by the master of all master craftsmen. The "mod ernistic" rhythms which emanate from the finite mind of a single artist are trite and dead as compared with those which millions of years have developed in the evolution of animal and man.
It seems strange that in these days of keen athletic youth, great action and intense living, many sculp tors are still content with the portrayal of well-rounded and rather phlegmatic female figures usually reminiscent of days long past, in form, in position and in name. This is probably due to the sculptor's training in the classics and to the attitude fostered by the adoption of the term "fine arts" (see TECHNIQUE IN ART), but on every hand slender, beautifully athletic forms are walking, running, skating, skiing, swimming, and dancing ;—doing a thou sand things with a clean-cut action and beauty never attained even in the days of Greece, and closer to the modern sculptor and his public. Some sculptors have adopted this viewpoint and the alert living figures of boxers by Mahonri Young (see Plate VIII., fig. 5) are an example showing the tremendous possibilities, for these two figures are bound together by that intangible, though very real cord of antagonism in a primitive contest, in a way which has hardly been better portrayed. Even though the sculptor may not adopt the facts of modern existence in his work it is still possible for him to portray the spirit of this, even though the name of his subject be hundreds of years old. Edward McCartan has grasped this spirit in his figure, the "Diana with the Greyhound" (see SCULPTURE, Plate VIII., fig. 2), and it is not difficult to imagine this girl buoyantly walking down some familiar road and shortening the leash on her dog as she crosses at the street corner. In such manner did Michelangelo and Cellini express the spirit of the Renaissance. Even better did the Greeks record all that was beautiful in their daily lives.