From The “American and Women’s Magazine”
(This essay was written by a member of the editorial staff; for some reason known to himself only he desired to remain incognito.)
It has become characteristic of our people, when we begin to speak of Schatz we are immediately reminded of “Bezalel” which is so dear to us and we forget that Schatz himself is a great artist. It is true, many of us have heard of his reputation; in the world of art he has been known for many years. Thirty years ago, in Paris, the center of art, he received all the honors usually conferred on a great artist, and his name was then entered in the “Encyclopedia of Art.”
But who of us read encyclopedias? Thus I was greatly surprised when I visited the “Bezalel” exhibit, in New York. I found there a world of art; all of the things are of a national character, a big part of our culture. To describe it in detail a big book would have to be written, and even then the subject would not be exhausted, enough material would be left for others to write on. In real art each person reads in his own thoughts according to his own imagination. First I must comment on the external form of his art: in bronze, ivory and paintings he reached a virtuosity in the technique; like in nature itself, we know not how it is made, but we know what is made. The substance, the soul is deep and quiet; it requires close and slow observation to absorb them and become a part of them and one will find a world of thought and beauty in them. In the large bronze relief “The ninth of Av at the Wailing Wall", I could see the entire tragedy of the Jewish people. I can find no better description than that of Professor Schatz’s, which he gives in his Monography. It runs as follows: “Under the dark blue skies, covered with gold shining stars, sad like a tombstone, stands the wailing wall; it is standing like in a fantastic dream, covered in a bluish veil wrought of the silvery moonbeams; here and there from the cracks little branches are sprouting, they are covered with little flowerettes and they fall to the ground like drops of tears. Below where a red light illumines the wall, barefooted the children of Israel are praying and weeping. They came here from all the four corners of the earth, they speak seventy different languages; their dress, movements and faces are as different as differ the nations one from another where they are kept in bondage. Only by the wailing wall they became the children of one people, with one national sorrow, with one prayer, in our only language:
"Remember, O Lord, what is become upon us:
Considered behold our reproach,
Our inheritance is turned to strangers,
Our houses to aliens.
Wherefore dost thou forget us forever
And forsake us so long?
Turn thou us unto thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned;
Renew our days as of old.”
Descriptions of such a character Schatz made to every one of his art productions; this shows that he lives through the life of every type which he creates.
They are no accidental happenings that are first made and then he seeks a name for it; everyone is part of his life, of the past he lived through and of his reflections. Even in his portraits we find only the great men in Israel, those he met and he became inspired by them and he perpetuated them in oil and paint; not one can be found that was made for pecuniary benefit. For the first time we find a Jewish artist who seeks to bring to life again our erstwhile great, the prophets of our people.
To be a great artist is not sufficient, it is not enough to be a profound psychologist, it also requires to live in Palestine, where one feels our great past on every side and the rich collection of the various types we meet call forth the appearances of the people who lived there in the past.
His guided bronze relief, “When will come the miraculous end ?” will remain with us forever, because he conveys therewith a page of our history which was written with our blood. Here is the contents of the masterpiece as given by Schatz himself:
“And there will come a day, the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say: Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacobs: and he will teach us of his ways, and we walk in his paths; for out of Zion shall go forth the law and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more... Everyone will sit in his vineyard under his fig tree, without being disturbed. . . .” Carrying the brightest ideals, the Jewish people are wandering for two thousand years on the long and dreary road of the diaspora. Darkness is around him—like wild beasts every one tears, burns and robs, no mercy for infants, for women or for old; his sacred things were desecrated, and yet the Jew lives, because he had faith in the words of the prophet. Like a pillar of flame this prophecy illumined the terrible darkness; we believed and we still believe that the day of glory will arrive when all nations will see the light, humanity. Nations will no longer strive to destroy each other; humanity will become one great brotherhood. . . . When comes the miraculous end? We asked this question every day, for two thousand years, we waited for the end every moment even when the knife was on the throat.
In the corner of the synagogue, not far from the Holy Arc, sits the sage, over an old folio book, he is a mystic, by some means of signs he can read the future; now his thoughts are occupied with the miraculous end. All the nations became wild, the earth trembles of the cannon shots, the air is filled with the shoutings of the fallen, and the moaning of the wounded, rivers of blood are flowing; the flames are demolishing cities and towns; men, women and children fall victims of the sword; in his earthly inferno the poor and unfortunate Jew suffers more than all other people. He is driven from everywhere; he is tortured and killed, and he is forced to kill his brother Jews. He, the mystic is peaceful, he knows it must be so; it is the last war, this will end the reign of terror and injustice; it is the great day when the Messiah is to come; the world is suffering, it is the labor pains preceding the birth of the era. But when will it end?
As a real universal talent he is a master in all the forms of art. At the exhibit his work of art can be seen in bronze, in ivory, in carving, painting and even in letters; in the department of books at the exhibit we also find a volume written by him, “The New Jerusalem,” which shows him also a master in Belle letters; in addition he wrote Aphorisms and a monograph, the last named is the only one in our literature.
We have before us a great artist, a teacher and a great man; he is one of the few creators which we ever produced. The masses feel it instinctively and that is the secret popularity and love he won among his people. Will we help creating a fund for his favorite work, our Bezalel ? Do we really understand the great sacrifice he made, in coming to us as a sick man? The near future will answer our question.
From The “American and Women’s Magazine”
(This essay was written by a member of the editorial staff; for some reason known to himself only he desired to remain incognito.)
It has become characteristic of our people, when we begin to speak of Schatz we are immediately reminded of “Bezalel” which is so dear to us and we forget that Schatz himself is a great artist. It is true, many of us have heard of his reputation; in the world of art he has been known for many years. Thirty years ago, in Paris, the center of art, he received all the honors usually conferred on a great artist, and his name was then entered in the “Encyclopedia of Art.”
But who of us read encyclopedias? Thus I was greatly surprised when I visited the “Bezalel” exhibit, in New York. I found there a world of art; all of the things are of a national character, a big part of our culture. To describe it in detail a big book would have to be written, and even then the subject would not be exhausted, enough material would be left for others to write on. In real art each person reads in his own thoughts according to his own imagination. First I must comment on the external form of his art: in bronze, ivory and paintings he reached a virtuosity in the technique; like in nature itself, we know not how it is made, but we know what is made. The substance, the soul is deep and quiet; it requires close and slow observation to absorb them and become a part of them and one will find a world of thought and beauty in them. In the large bronze relief “The ninth of Av at the Wailing Wall", I could see the entire tragedy of the Jewish people. I can find no better description than that of Professor Schatz’s, which he gives in his Monography. It runs as follows: “Under the dark blue skies, covered with gold shining stars, sad like a tombstone, stands the wailing wall; it is standing like in a fantastic dream, covered in a bluish veil wrought of the silvery moonbeams; here and there from the cracks little branches are sprouting, they are covered with little flowerettes and they fall to the ground like drops of tears. Below where a red light illumines the wall, barefooted the children of Israel are praying and weeping. They came here from all the four corners of the earth, they speak seventy different languages; their dress, movements and faces are as different as differ the nations one from another where they are kept in bondage. Only by the wailing wall they became the children of one people, with one national sorrow, with one prayer, in our only language:
"Remember, O Lord, what is become upon us:
Considered behold our reproach,
Our inheritance is turned to strangers,
Our houses to aliens.
Wherefore dost thou forget us forever
And forsake us so long?
Turn thou us unto thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned;
Renew our days as of old.”
Descriptions of such a character Schatz made to every one of his art productions; this shows that he lives through the life of every type which he creates.
They are no accidental happenings that are first made and then he seeks a name for it; everyone is part of his life, of the past he lived through and of his reflections. Even in his portraits we find only the great men in Israel, those he met and he became inspired by them and he perpetuated them in oil and paint; not one can be found that was made for pecuniary benefit. For the first time we find a Jewish artist who seeks to bring to life again our erstwhile great, the prophets of our people.
To be a great artist is not sufficient, it is not enough to be a profound psychologist, it also requires to live in Palestine, where one feels our great past on every side and the rich collection of the various types we meet call forth the appearances of the people who lived there in the past.
His guided bronze relief, “When will come the miraculous end ?” will remain with us forever, because he conveys therewith a page of our history which was written with our blood. Here is the contents of the masterpiece as given by Schatz himself:
“And there will come a day, the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say: Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacobs: and he will teach us of his ways, and we walk in his paths; for out of Zion shall go forth the law and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more... Everyone will sit in his vineyard under his fig tree, without being disturbed. . . .” Carrying the brightest ideals, the Jewish people are wandering for two thousand years on the long and dreary road of the diaspora. Darkness is around him—like wild beasts every one tears, burns and robs, no mercy for infants, for women or for old; his sacred things were desecrated, and yet the Jew lives, because he had faith in the words of the prophet. Like a pillar of flame this prophecy illumined the terrible darkness; we believed and we still believe that the day of glory will arrive when all nations will see the light, humanity. Nations will no longer strive to destroy each other; humanity will become one great brotherhood. . . . When comes the miraculous end? We asked this question every day, for two thousand years, we waited for the end every moment even when the knife was on the throat.
In the corner of the synagogue, not far from the Holy Arc, sits the sage, over an old folio book, he is a mystic, by some means of signs he can read the future; now his thoughts are occupied with the miraculous end. All the nations became wild, the earth trembles of the cannon shots, the air is filled with the shoutings of the fallen, and the moaning of the wounded, rivers of blood are flowing; the flames are demolishing cities and towns; men, women and children fall victims of the sword; in his earthly inferno the poor and unfortunate Jew suffers more than all other people. He is driven from everywhere; he is tortured and killed, and he is forced to kill his brother Jews. He, the mystic is peaceful, he knows it must be so; it is the last war, this will end the reign of terror and injustice; it is the great day when the Messiah is to come; the world is suffering, it is the labor pains preceding the birth of the era. But when will it end?
As a real universal talent he is a master in all the forms of art. At the exhibit his work of art can be seen in bronze, in ivory, in carving, painting and even in letters; in the department of books at the exhibit we also find a volume written by him, “The New Jerusalem,” which shows him also a master in Belle letters; in addition he wrote Aphorisms and a monograph, the last named is the only one in our literature.
We have before us a great artist, a teacher and a great man; he is one of the few creators which we ever produced. The masses feel it instinctively and that is the secret popularity and love he won among his people. Will we help creating a fund for his favorite work, our Bezalel ? Do we really understand the great sacrifice he made, in coming to us as a sick man? The near future will answer our question.