I believe that it speaks to the tremendous tenacity of a man who refused to give up until the city honored the contract they awarded him in the previous century.  It was only four years later that Dallin passed away in Arlington, Massachusetts.  The story of his battle for the placement of the Revere was recorded in Rell G. Francis’ book, Cyrus E. Dallin:  Let Justice Be Done.

Justice indeed.

It’s been a long, hot summer so far hasn’t it?  I’ve received several contacts from individuals who have owned or believed they owned a Dallin work.  This is always very exciting for me, because I can then identify more things for my catalog raissone!  But, it also means that it is likely many more works exist that we do not know about.  Thirdly – it’s an opportunity for me to educate someone on who Dallin was and why he is important in the field of art.

If you own a Dallin – I would love to hear from you!  Comment on this post and let me know how to reach you.  The comments are moderated and all identifying information will be removed prior to posting widely.  If you don’t – come visit us at the Cyrus E. Dallin Art Museum in Arlington, Massachusetts and see what all the fuss is about.  I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised!

Until next time…

This bothers me on two levels.  First, by virtue of what it is – a death mask is molded to the face of the deceased not sculpted freehand.  Therefore, it could not be “sculpted” by Dallin.  Semantics?  Maybe, but it is still an important distinction.  Second, in his book Francis claims that the mask was “owned by” Dallin.  He did not say it was molded or sculpted by him.  Since Francis was very careful to be inclusive in the works that he attributed to Dallin, even including some spurious works in the book, I question whether or not this death mask was truly a “Dallin work.”  More likely it was a mask that Dallin used as inspiration for his sculptures of Native Americans for which he is most popularly known.

The research continues, dear readers.  As always, when one pulls a string – the fabric often unravels.  I am working with the Whitney as well as a few other historians to uncover the different facets of this story so that I may piece together the truth.  I will keep you posted.  Alas!  What started out as the inspiration for a quick blog post has now turned into a full-fledged research project.

I am, however, enjoying the chase immensely.

Until next time…

I’ll meet with the Chairman of the Board of CEDAM, also a friend of mine, mid-September. I can’t wait to see her and find out all the happenings I’m missing at CEDAM in celebration of this birthday year. Like I tell my kids, as soon as I know, you’ll know.  I have decided to try to bring a little Dallin mainstream and created a Facebook Page.  I’m sorting through copyright issues so I’m having trouble finding photographs I can post, but I hope to have that rectified soon.  If nothing else, this will be a celebration of his life and works.  He was a cool guy as well as a great artist.   You’ll see.

I have sent an inquiry to find out if this is another casting and if they will share the provenance with me.  We shall see.  At $3,500, it is a bit out of my price range, but a lovely work none the less and a good value for a true Dallin sculpture.

This foundry mark is an important clue to finding information on what type of casting this work is.  The JB is Jennings Brothers, a foundry located in Bridgeport, Connecticut.  The foundry started in 1891 and continued in business until the early 1950s.  They tended to reproduce well-known sculptures and the Appeal was in that category.  All the Jennings Brothers castings were made of white metal or spelter – although they are often mistaken for bronze.

If you look closer, you will notice that there is a definite difference in the detailing and look of works done by different foundries.  The details are subtle, but they are there for the discerning eye.  In addition, the markings can be the difference in a very valuable work and one that is lovely to look at but has no value other than aesthetic enjoyment.

The diary is a partial catalog of her husband’s commissioned works, a day to day look at her and her children’s lives (including school test scores, military service, and illness), and a record of the doings of the Dallin family and their travels.

I have always maintained that Dallin, alleged to be a mama’s boy, had other reasons for returning time and time again to Utah, the state of his birth. This diary lends credence to my hypothesis that Dallin, although fond of his mother to be sure, had other reasons that brought him to Utah on a regular basis.  The diary contains many leads for the research I have been compiling including the whereabouts of many of his son Arthur’s stained glass windows, Arthur’s burial location in France, and information on Vittoria’s family that has been somewhat difficult to nail down.

I highly recommend diary reading as a regular part of your research – even if the diary or journal is not written by the subject of interest. You would be surprised what details you can glean from someone with a different perspective.

Admittedly, I have not delved into the research of this Utah resort further than to ascertain where it was located.  Dallin’s sister, Jane “Daisy” (Dallin) Southworth and her husband, C.J., owned this area attraction.  Googling the name of the resort yielded this link to a brief history of one of Utah’s “ruined” hot springs resort areas.  It indicates that the sculptor himself owned the resort.  Another article located here indicates the Southworth sons, C.J. and Walter owned it.  Ah, yet another piece of the puzzle to track down…

See and ye shall find.  Indeed.

The Caproni brothers had an office in Boston where they showcased their castings.  They were the last to be allowed to cast directly from museum works.  They had a tremendous gallery at 1920 Washington Street at the turn of the 20th century.  Undoubtedly Dallin obtained some local inspiration from these replicas to use in his own sculpture having kept a studio in Boston until at least 1895 and teaching at the Mass Normal School of Art after that.  In addition, it appears that the photographs for those “lost” works that Rell Francis mentions in his book, Cyrus E. Dallin, Let Justice Be Done, came from the Caproni catalogs.

I will have to investigate the 1911 catalog further, but I suspect that several of the spurious works listed in Francis’ book may have come from the Caproni gallery and were in the Dallin files (now housed at the Robbins Library in Arlington, Massachusetts) because he wanted to use them as inspiration for his own works.