Democracy on Pedestals

Under paternalistic governments, artists produce the kind of art the government likes. Such art is apt to be expert, professional--at its worst, stereotyped, imitative, monotonous. Under a democracy, artists produce the kind of art they themselves like. Such art is apt to be personal, varied, lacking in precise standards--at its worst, amateurish, purposeless, sometimes egotistically incomprehensible. But at its best, democratic art flowers in endless variety, makes up in flashes of brilliant originality what it lacks in consistent workmanship.

Last week, at Manhattan's Buchholz Gallery, visitors saw one of the best cross-sections they had ever seen (38 carefully chosen pieces) of the sculpture of democratic Europe. The period it represented was a short one. The earliest piece, a bronze by Auguste Rodin, was dated approximately 1876, the latest, a clutch of slim-limbed nudes by French-born Charles Despiau and German-born Gerhard Marcks, just antedated Hitler's conquest of Poland. Some of this sculpture--figures by Aristide Maillol and Ernst Barlach--was stockily reposeful, others--Lehm-brucks' bulb-domed, emaciated Head of a Thinker, Picasso's elongated Standing Girl --strained on their pedestals as uncomfortably as an ununderstood remark. Still others were what the man in the street calls screwball art. Only quality this sculpture had in common: individuality. Gallery-goers took a long, long look, wondered whether Europe would ever see its like again.

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