Human figures appear on this important landmark of
ancient Egypt, a stone temple dating back twenty-four centuries. Chicago
architects and sculptors similarly participated in this very long and very
human tradition of displaying people on the walls of prominent buildings.
Temple of Horus, 237-257 BCE., Edfu, Egypt. Photograph image c.1930.
Silly vignettes, sometimes featuring the ancients,
were popular forms of amusement during the last decades of the nineteenth and
beginning of the twentieth century. In this Greek-based situation, a woman
allows her water jug to overflow while seemingly mesmerized by a passing
soldier. Curious incidents portrayed on the walls of Chicago buildings, though
less overt, were equally amusing. Image c.1895. Carte Postale, Les Grecs, Republique Franciase.
This photograph depicts a dream-like narrative
involving a dancing forest-based muse, a dwarf, and presumably a lost little
girl. All of these were pop culture favorites in 1900, and seeing figures like
these on building façades was considered quite appropriate. Image 1904. Uranotype, Neue Photographische Gesellschaft
A.G., Steglitz. 1904.
Frolicking mermaids were a sight to behold—on
advertising literature and on office
buildings. Image c.1895. Advertising
trade card, Dr. J. C. Ayer & Company, Lowell, Massachusetts.
The Greek mascaron
or mask, a representation of a human head, has been used as an element of
architectural decoration for over twenty centuries. Here a mask is positioned
high on the wall of the Burnham Center (originally the Chicago Title &
Trust Building, D. H. Burnham & Company, 1913) located at 111 West
Washington Street. Shards of light make its presence fearful, yet strangely
romantic.
Decorative elements, like the masks that march along
the top of this eight-story building, were echoed on its interior. Macy’s
Department Store (originally Marshall Field & Company, D. H. Burnham &
Company, 1892), on the northwest corner of Wabash Avenue and Washington Street,
still features elaborate cast iron newel posts with Renaissance-style masks
mimicking those on its exterior.
This young lady personified beauty during the turn
of the twentieth century. She possessed an outer innocence, an inner sweetness,
and a vulnerability that many sculptors found irresistible; building façades
were plentiful with carved images closely resembling this. A medieval headdress
and gown completed this romantic package. Image c.1900.
Most sculpted faces of young women were portrayed on
façades with qualities of gentleness and kindness. Here, mixed with those
characteristics is an image of a woman—a Gibson Girl—with an inquisitive
nature, an air of professionalism, and a dash of modernism. What seems to be a
silly extravagance to 21st century sensibilities was her oversize
hat; this accoutrement was her form of willful expression and an outward sign
of middle class indulgence. Chicago sculptors often displayed women with
similar forms of wild abandon: hairdos with fruit, crowns, tiaras, scrolls,
flower arrangements, and leaves and twigs—all very Gibsonesque. Image 1909. G.L. Co., Paris. Series 2158/3.
An ancient warrior,
possibly Greek, emerges from a delicate background of foliage. Featured on this
battler’s breastplate is the image of a mask no doubt meant to represent a
screaming and vanquished foe. Image: c.1885. Motifs de Decorations Interieure & Exterieures, Alfred
Thiebault, Sculpteur. Pierre Bois Marbre Carton Pierre & Staff, Premiere
Series–50 Planches, Paris-Auteuil. Plate 1, cover.
What was once the crisp
carving of a schoolgirl has morphed into an almost indiscernible lump of stone.
It has taken only eight decades of air pollution, harsh winters, and toxic
rainwater to reduce a limestone (albeit probably not of the highest quality) carving
to this. The youngsters who first saw this girl, those who were comforted by
her watching eyes and reassuring smile, are gone—and soon will be this schoolgirl.
(Ebenezer Lutheran Church Community House [completed in 1929 as the parish
school], 1650 West Foster Avenue.) Image 2/19/2014.
The results of brutal
winters and neglect have hastened the demise of much public stone sculpture in
Chicago. Though crowned and wearing earrings—intact for now—this noblewoman’s
future is in certain peril. She may be found upon the west façade of a house
completed in 1902 and located at 1053 North Pulaski Road.
Upon the façade of a
commercial building located at 3908 North Broadway, and completed c.1900, is
the image of this arguably androgynous individual. The carved limestone figure
is seen frontally; it is intact, fruit and all.
An elaborate bonnet
draws attention to the striking woman concealed within, the epitome of Gilded
Age propriety. This terra cotta bust was once located on the exterior of the
Edwin S. Hartwell House, 14 East Pearson Street of 1885. Julius H. Huber was
the architect.
This is one artist’s conception of a famous rescue,
the saving of Andromeda from the clutches of a sea monster by the Greek hero
Perseus. Greek myth had much influence upon the architecture of Chicago during
the nineteenth and turn of the twentieth century. Image c.1895. Carte Postale (Bibliophile), France.
Fairies dancing about an angel figure make for a
bizarre encounter. Some buildings in Chicago exhibit equally strange scenarios.
People a century ago were accustomed to viewing such shenanigans in newspapers,
books, advertisements, and on their buildings. More is known of these creatures: The original, powerful
majestic Fairies of King Arthur’s time have intermarried with humans and other
elvish races, producing a smaller, less powerful modern English Fairy. These can be seen throughout England, dancing
merrily in the meadows on moonlit nights. During the day their night-time
beauty is transformed and they appear as ugly, wrinkled dwarfs.Arrowsmith,
159 On moonlit nights, Chicago Fairies dance on the walls of buildings, both big and
small! Sometimes, during the day, one may spot a “wrinkled dwarf” too,
especially on LaSalle Street. Image c.1910. Emil
Kohn, Kunstverlag, Munchen. Series 361/1.
Playful putti—here, there, and on every building.
Image c.1895. Advertising trade card, Dr.
J. C. Ayer & Company, Lowell, Massachusetts.
Decorative carved heads like this one were rather
commonplace in London during the nineteenth century and before. This sculpture
was originally affixed to the eastern façade of London’s Houses of Parliament
(Charles Barry and Augustus W. N. Pugin, 1840-1870). This medieval-style
artifact was donated to the Chicago Tribune for display upon the wall of its
new headquarters building, the Tribune Tower (Hood & Howells, 1925).
Depending upon the actual year produced, this carved, stone head can be
considered one of the oldest of this type in Chicago—outside of a museum collection.
Especially during the Renaissance, architects
employed putti—chubby and sometimes naked infants symbolic of innocence—as
decorative devices for their buildings. This determined-looking putto
(singular) was placed on the east façade of the Holy Name Cathedral Rectory
(Henry J. Schlaks, 1914), located in the 700 block of North Wabash Avenue. A
century of harsh winters and air pollution have rendered its once-smooth
limestone surface a pitted ghost of its once pristine self.
Facing a rarely used alley may be found this
nameless, decidedly lonely, spirit of the city. Almost forgotten, she appears
from the shadows to be photographed…but only infrequently. (Virgin Hotel,
originally the Old Dearborn Bank Building, 203 North Wabash Avenue, Rapp &
Rapp, 1928).
There was no outward
form of wild abandon with this figure, a caryatid from the south façade of the
Field Museum of Natural History. Sculptor Henry Hering followed all the antique
rules with this marble interpretation of a young, rather forlorn-looking Greek
maiden. She possesses a countenance of a seer, an individual of knowledge
gained through education and personal toil and hardship. She stands resilient,
determined, and stoic. Her resolve is unshakeable, and she is indeed a person
to be reckoned with.
A flying putto displays
a panpipe and staff, both ancient symbols. This little guy is accompanied by
birds and flowers—an altogether delightful but silly composition and one that
was emulated in Chicago through uncountable permutations and for many decades.
Image: c.1885. Motifs de Decorations
Interieure & Exterieures, Alfred Thiebault, Sculpteur. Pierre Bois
Marbre Carton Pierre & Staff, Premiere Series–50 Planches, Paris-Auteuil.
Plate 35, “Louis XVI.”
A close-up view of the
carving of an eye reveals much about the craft of stone carving. This detail is
from a human face carved in 1890 and is but one sculptor’s attempt at
accurately representing the human eye. It was fashioned from a limestone block
and inserted into the façade of a Victorian period home located at 3210 West
Warren Boulevard.
Portrayed on the façade
of this Queen Anne-style home was the terra cotta image of a young mustachioed
man, a rakish sort perhaps, as hinted so by his cocked cap. It has been
suggested that this house and the home next door at #14 were built and gifted
to the builder’s—Mr. Hartwell’s—son and daughter respectively. The Edwin S.
Hartwell House, once located at 16 East Pearson Street was completed in 1885 to
the design of architect Julius H. Huber. The house fell to wreckers in 2014.
A twin figure was
originally carved for the same façade—separated by some thirty feet—about a
century ago. This carving has obviously lost much detail, a potent example of
neglect and improper maintenance, and spalling due to severe weather and
certain atmospheric conditions like acid rain. The obvious and uneasily
answered question remains: Why did one carving suffer so much damage while the
other appears to have survived largely intact? Regardless of the answer, this
image is a poignant reminder of the injury done to this city’s architectural
sculpture exacted on a yearly—indeed daily—basis.