A Conversation With James N. Rosenberg at The New York Bezalel Exhibition
Written By: Martha Neumarit
This interview has been taken on the occasion of the Bezalel Arts and Crafts Exhibition at the Grand Central Palace, New York. This exhibition marks the twentieth anniversary of the Bezalel School.—The Editor.
James N. Rosenberg, a well-known New York lawyer, recognized as a great patron of art and a distinguished painter himself, and Vice-Chairman of the United Jewish Campaign for Russian Colonization, is the Chairman of the Exhibition of the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts, which is now taking place in New York at the Grand Central Palace under the direction of Professor Boris Schatz of Jerusalem.
In certain circles it has created great surprise, this acceptance of the chairmanship of the Bezalel Exhibition by James N. Rosenberg. For while he has for many years taken a tremendous interest in the development of arts and artists, he never paid much attention to those artists especially connected with Jewish things. And another thing that makes this new connection seem strange to many is the fact that at the present time Mr. Rosenberg also belongs to that group which is raising ,$15,000,000 for relief of our Russian brothers, and which, rightly or wrongly, is considered, if not anti-Zionist, certainly at least non-Zionist. This last fact does make puzzling the close co-operation of Mr. Rosenberg with the Palestinian undertaking.
It was therefore with particular interest that I went to interview this man of seeming anomalies, to ascertain in what manner, and for what reason, his interest in Jewish art had been revived. I found him, in the quiet of a side room of the Grand Central Palace, busy at work on a striking portrait of Professor Boris Schatz, the founder and head of the Bezalel School. As I waited for a convenient lull, I had a wonderful opportunity of studying the cultured and expressive face of the painter and the kindly, visionary one of that other artist who was sitting for him.
And then Mr. Rosenberg explained:
“Several years ago I was wandering about in Venice. There, from the splendors of the Doge’s palace and the marvel of St. Mark’s Place, I drifted into the ancient Ghetto, of which I had not even caught a glimpse before. There, in the austere and undecorated synagogue, there sprang to my mind the injunction of the Bible: ‘Thou shalt not make thee any graven image, nor any image of anything that is in the heavens above, the earth below, or the waters under the earth.’ And I began to understand how, from the lofty and ethereal conception of God which engendered this command, there had arisen from the Jew the prohibition against entering the field of plastic art, in spite of the manifestly inherent creative spirit of the Jew. And it seemed to me again an infinite pity that that desire and aptitude for creative artistic activity—so well illustrated by Bezalel, who, in the days of Moses, fashioned on the sands of the desert a sanctuary for the God of his people—should for so long have been repressed.”
“But,” I interrupted, “it is no longer true that the Jew is withdrawn from active participation in the artistic output of the world.” The answer came readily:
“I was just coming to that. It is happily true that the last twenty-five years have witnessed the naissance of Jewish art. While the new Jewish artists did not create as Jews, their work inevitably contained certain Jewish characteristics. There were Israels, Max Liebermann, Jacob Epstein, Glicenstein, Stern, Kisling, Simsonson, Bakst, Medjys, Halpert, Weber, Wolkowitz, Piccasio—but I could go on endlessly. I only do not want to forget Max Lilien, Hermann Struck, and those others whose work was distinctly Jewish.
“But a new development has arisen, and it holds a tremendous interest for me. Professor Boris Schatz, whom I consider indeed a very distinguished painter and sculptor, has founded the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts in Jerusalem, which is just now celebrating its twentieth anniversary. Professor Schatz has undertaken the gigantic task of making a test to discover whether any Jewish art, which should release the creative spirit of Jewish artists as Jews, could be achieved.
“And I do believe that his dream will be realized. When I examine the production of the Bezalel School here on exhibit I can truthfully say that never have I seen, from any one single school, such a high average of technique and imagination as is expressed by the Bezalel students. Let me show you.”
We went into the exhibition hall. Colorful, finely woven rugs and pieces of tapestry gave a rich Oriental setting for the metal and wood displays. We stopped before a striking painting, by Professor Schatz, of the Prophet Elijah. The straggling white locks, the furrowed brow, the keen eyes, the noble beard stroked by the emaciated hand—I was about to comment on these when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Come,” said the voice of the Professor himself, “let me show you that of which I am most proud— made by those of my school.” And he led us to the stately chair of the Prophet Elijah. There it stood, with nothing around to detract from the attention paid it. Lovingly the Professor adjusted one arm, which had somehow come a bit loose. The chair is in the nature of a throne, standing upon a pedestal. But the Professor would not let us remain to gaze on it. He showed us one after another of his treasures, of which he is so justly proud. There were the shining crown for the Torah, the realistic plaque of the Ninth of Ab at the Wailing Wall, the somber study of “The Cabalist.” From one wall there smiled the thoughtful face of Professor Solomon Schechter, unbelievably lifelike and sympathetic. The tortured countenance of a Caucasian Jew formed a striking contrast to a richly decorated jewel box nearby. So close to the picture of Herzl as to make it seem more than a coincidence was the finely conceived and faithfully executed Sacred Ark. Standing before this symbolic work I turned to Mr. Rosenberg.
“It is not necessary for me to add anything more,” he said in answer to my unspoken question. “You have seen these things. That is enough. They speak for themselves. This is sufficient proof that there is a Jewish art, inspired by the very source of Jewish history."
A Conversation With James N. Rosenberg at The New York Bezalel Exhibition
Written By: Martha Neumarit
This interview has been taken on the occasion of the Bezalel Arts and Crafts Exhibition at the Grand Central Palace, New York. This exhibition marks the twentieth anniversary of the Bezalel School.—The Editor.
James N. Rosenberg, a well-known New York lawyer, recognized as a great patron of art and a distinguished painter himself, and Vice-Chairman of the United Jewish Campaign for Russian Colonization, is the Chairman of the Exhibition of the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts, which is now taking place in New York at the Grand Central Palace under the direction of Professor Boris Schatz of Jerusalem.
In certain circles it has created great surprise, this acceptance of the chairmanship of the Bezalel Exhibition by James N. Rosenberg. For while he has for many years taken a tremendous interest in the development of arts and artists, he never paid much attention to those artists especially connected with Jewish things. And another thing that makes this new connection seem strange to many is the fact that at the present time Mr. Rosenberg also belongs to that group which is raising ,$15,000,000 for relief of our Russian brothers, and which, rightly or wrongly, is considered, if not anti-Zionist, certainly at least non-Zionist. This last fact does make puzzling the close co-operation of Mr. Rosenberg with the Palestinian undertaking.
It was therefore with particular interest that I went to interview this man of seeming anomalies, to ascertain in what manner, and for what reason, his interest in Jewish art had been revived. I found him, in the quiet of a side room of the Grand Central Palace, busy at work on a striking portrait of Professor Boris Schatz, the founder and head of the Bezalel School. As I waited for a convenient lull, I had a wonderful opportunity of studying the cultured and expressive face of the painter and the kindly, visionary one of that other artist who was sitting for him.
And then Mr. Rosenberg explained:
“Several years ago I was wandering about in Venice. There, from the splendors of the Doge’s palace and the marvel of St. Mark’s Place, I drifted into the ancient Ghetto, of which I had not even caught a glimpse before. There, in the austere and undecorated synagogue, there sprang to my mind the injunction of the Bible: ‘Thou shalt not make thee any graven image, nor any image of anything that is in the heavens above, the earth below, or the waters under the earth.’ And I began to understand how, from the lofty and ethereal conception of God which engendered this command, there had arisen from the Jew the prohibition against entering the field of plastic art, in spite of the manifestly inherent creative spirit of the Jew. And it seemed to me again an infinite pity that that desire and aptitude for creative artistic activity—so well illustrated by Bezalel, who, in the days of Moses, fashioned on the sands of the desert a sanctuary for the God of his people—should for so long have been repressed.”
“But,” I interrupted, “it is no longer true that the Jew is withdrawn from active participation in the artistic output of the world.” The answer came readily:
“I was just coming to that. It is happily true that the last twenty-five years have witnessed the naissance of Jewish art. While the new Jewish artists did not create as Jews, their work inevitably contained certain Jewish characteristics. There were Israels, Max Liebermann, Jacob Epstein, Glicenstein, Stern, Kisling, Simsonson, Bakst, Medjys, Halpert, Weber, Wolkowitz, Piccasio—but I could go on endlessly. I only do not want to forget Max Lilien, Hermann Struck, and those others whose work was distinctly Jewish.
“But a new development has arisen, and it holds a tremendous interest for me. Professor Boris Schatz, whom I consider indeed a very distinguished painter and sculptor, has founded the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts in Jerusalem, which is just now celebrating its twentieth anniversary. Professor Schatz has undertaken the gigantic task of making a test to discover whether any Jewish art, which should release the creative spirit of Jewish artists as Jews, could be achieved.
“And I do believe that his dream will be realized. When I examine the production of the Bezalel School here on exhibit I can truthfully say that never have I seen, from any one single school, such a high average of technique and imagination as is expressed by the Bezalel students. Let me show you.”
We went into the exhibition hall. Colorful, finely woven rugs and pieces of tapestry gave a rich Oriental setting for the metal and wood displays. We stopped before a striking painting, by Professor Schatz, of the Prophet Elijah. The straggling white locks, the furrowed brow, the keen eyes, the noble beard stroked by the emaciated hand—I was about to comment on these when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Come,” said the voice of the Professor himself, “let me show you that of which I am most proud— made by those of my school.” And he led us to the stately chair of the Prophet Elijah. There it stood, with nothing around to detract from the attention paid it. Lovingly the Professor adjusted one arm, which had somehow come a bit loose. The chair is in the nature of a throne, standing upon a pedestal. But the Professor would not let us remain to gaze on it. He showed us one after another of his treasures, of which he is so justly proud. There were the shining crown for the Torah, the realistic plaque of the Ninth of Ab at the Wailing Wall, the somber study of “The Cabalist.” From one wall there smiled the thoughtful face of Professor Solomon Schechter, unbelievably lifelike and sympathetic. The tortured countenance of a Caucasian Jew formed a striking contrast to a richly decorated jewel box nearby. So close to the picture of Herzl as to make it seem more than a coincidence was the finely conceived and faithfully executed Sacred Ark. Standing before this symbolic work I turned to Mr. Rosenberg.
“It is not necessary for me to add anything more,” he said in answer to my unspoken question. “You have seen these things. That is enough. They speak for themselves. This is sufficient proof that there is a Jewish art, inspired by the very source of Jewish history."