Tuesday, September 9, 2025

Paris Art Mission 1890-1892

 Short article:

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/history/global-histories/france/stories-of-faith/fr-07-the-paris-art-mission-bb?lang=eng

The Paris Art Mission

Unsigned study for murals in the Salt Lake Temple

Unsigned study for murals in the Salt Lake Temple.

Temples are the most sacred of Latter-day Saint houses of worship. Temples provide a place where “the Son of Man might … manifest himself to his people” (D&C 109:5). As such, woodwork, carpeting, and art—including hand-painted murals—provide a beautiful and sacred setting for the pinnacle of Latter-day Saint worship.

In 1890, after nearly 40 years of construction, the Salt Lake Temple was nearing completion. Wishing to provide the finest murals for the temple, Latter-day Saint artists John Hafen, Lorus Pratt, John B. Fairbanks, Edwin Evans, and Herman Haag asked the leaders of the Church for financial assistance to study art in Paris. The five were called as art missionaries and sent to study at l’Académie Julian in Paris. During their time in Paris, the art missionaries did not attempt to preach the gospel but focused on developing their talents. Upon returning to Utah, they worked to complete the interior murals—covering the walls and ceilings of three large assembly rooms—prior to the dedication of the temple on April 6, 1893.


Longer article:

https://artistsofutah.org/15Bytes/index.php/purpose-and-legacy-the-paris-art-mission-of-1890-1892/

Purpose and Legacy: The Paris Art Mission of 1890-1892

Lake Nikaragua, 1912, by John B. Fairbanks

One of the factors that first attracted me to the history of Utah artists and art was the Paris art mission of 1890 to 1892. In one of my early Bob Olpin classes at the U, I selected the intriguing, unique mission as the theme for some research. In fact, had Martha Sonntag Bradley, Lowell M. Durham, Jr., Bill Seifrit, and others not written such incredible articles on the subject, I likely would have chosen the topic for my thesis.

It was John Hafen, along with colleagues Lorus Pratt and John B. Fairbanks, who desired to travel to Paris to learn a newish art style called “Impressionism.” What? In 1890, there were a number of things going on in the Utah Territory including the showdown with the U.S. government over that polygamy thing, the potential disenfranchisement of the fledgling Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, mounting debt, famines, the influx of miners, mortgage lenders, and other sinners, and the nearing completion of the magnificent Salt Lake Temple. That the long-bearded, conservative church leaders would recognize the necessity of financially supporting individual artists to travel to Paris to study Impressionism (of all things) is absorbing.

Painting by Lorus Pratt, circa 1897, collection of Clayton R. Williams

In certain regards, it may have been a case of “who you know vs. what you know” that got the mission started. Lorus Pratt was the son of Orson Pratt, a well-respected church apostle and pioneer and it was likely he who had the entrée to President George Q. Cannon, a member of the LDS Church’s First Presidency. Cannon asked Pratt and Hafen to project the costs and length of study required. They based their data on the time J.T. Harwood, Hafen’s former teacher and mentor, had spent studying in Paris. They told Cannon that Harwood had spent about $1,000 per year studying in Paris. To justify that expense, they mentioned that Harwood, who was not a Mormon, “is economical and not addicted to any bad habits that I know off [sic], that is, such as are expensive.”1 Hafen added further compelling evidence that would be difficult to argue with. “I since realize the necessity of cultivating any talent God has bestowed upon His children from the fact that He is the giver of all gifts and it remains for us to put them to good and legitimate [sic] use.”2 Now, how do you argue with that? Knowing that other artists such as Danquart Weggeland and CCA Christensen had already completed painting assignments in other temples, Hafen further pressed the First Presidency, suggesting that the finest temple to be erected deserved a new, fresher approach to mural painting, which could only come from study in Paris.

While anxiously waiting for word from Church HQ, Hafen, Pratt, and Fairbanks went into the mountains to pray, hoping for a positive response to their appeal. Hafen would later recall, “I made it a matter of prayer for many years that He would open a way whereby I could receive that training which would befit me to decorate His holy temples and the habitations of Zions.”3 Sheesh! Sometimes I do a little bowling to work off stress while I’m awaiting an answer to a mortgage request but nothing like this.

Untitled painting by John B. Fairbanks, dated 1912, collection of Tom and Linda Alder 

Hafen, Pratt, and Fairbanks received their positive answer and in June, 1890, were set apart (blessed) as missionaries, and were told, “…to be careful to avoid trouble . . . but see everything on earth that you can.” While traveling to New York and beyond, the trio made a pact that they would “produce a sketch every day or be fined 10 cents.” The first fine was imposed on Pratt. “One day [Lorus] was so busy teaching the gospel to fellow passengers that he forgot to make a sketch so he had to fork over 10 cents.”4 After eleven days at sea, the three docked in Liverpool, England, and stayed in London for several days before arriving in Paris on July 24, 1890 — Pioneer Day in Utah.

Other Utah artists had preceded the three missionaries. Harwood, famed sculptor Cyrus Dallin, and John W. Clawson, the celebrated portrait painter, had been there. The latter two interacted with the missionary trio before returning to the Utah Territory. Shortly thereafter, Edwin Evans, an artist with less experience than Hafen, Pratt, and Fairbanks who had been called and set apart as the fourth missionary, joined the trio in Paris. They all enrolled at the Academie Julian, recognized as one of the better schools for art instruction, and a favorite of Utah artists. By Christmas, 1890, the four were fully entrenched in their studies, spending their days and most nights sketching and painting live models at the Academie. On days off, or after hours, the four would travel to the countryside and paint landscapes or typical genre scenes. As with many university art departments, “crits” were conducted weekly, and the best of the works were displayed prominently on the wall for all to see. In that first year, Clawson, Hafen, Evans, and Pratt had paintings selected for honors, with Fairbanks being the only one who was excluded.

 Painting by Edwin Evans, collection of Clayton R. Williams

Less than a year after their arrival, in May, 1891, Hafen informed President Cannon that he was ready to return to Utah to commence his art career as well as to fulfill his obligation to paint murals in the Salt Lake Temple. Upon his return to the Great Salt Lake Valley, Hafen worked closely with the First Presidency and architects on plans for the painting of murals in several of the temple ceremonial rooms. At about this same time, the last of the art missionaries, Herman H. Haag, was called. Haag, a young but gifted artist, accompanied Harwood on the latter’s second trip to Paris in June, 1891. Little is known about Haag’s Parisian experiences, but his impression of the city is quoted in a letter written to his sister that same month: “I don’t know of any other city which loves the beautiful and admires art more than Paris does . . . It is a great contrast to come from such a quiet place as Utah into such a city as Paris is today.”5 Haag quickly learned his craft and was honored by an award from the Academie Julian for his pencil drawing “John the Baptist Presents Christ before the People.” It is a stunning work that currently hangs in the Museum of Church History and Art in Salt Lake. Stop by and admire it when you are on Temple Square with grandma oohing at the lights.

As the remaining missionaries completed their studies, Hafen and the Church regularly corresponded with them about the requirements for the various rooms in the Salt Lake Temple, where they would soon find themselves, contemplating the huge bare walls, waiting for their talents to manifest themselves. Pratt and Haag returned to Utah in the summer of 1892, along with Harwood and Clawson. Evans returned later in the fall, where he joined Fairbanks to complete murals in the World Room. Hafen, Pratt, Fairbanks, and Evans painted murals in the Creation, Garden, Telestial, Terrestrial, and Celestial rooms of the temple.

Untitled painting by Herman Haag, courtesy Zions Bank

For many years following the art mission of 1890-1892, the original missionaries made decisive influences on the art movement in Utah. Hafen continued to paint commissions for the Church. In 1907, he and his son, Virgil, moved to Brown County, Indiana, and worked together to build an art center. John received much praise for his work and just at a time when he was assured of financial success, he contracted pneumonia and passed away in the summer of 1910 at the young age of 53. Lorus Pratt was retained by the Church to paint scenes in the Salt Lake, Logan, and St. George Temples. He painted privately, and as with many artists of the time, paid his debts with his paintings. One of his finest artworks, depicting a golden harvest reminiscent of the Parisian countryside, hangs in the Central Gallery of the Church’s museum. Pratt died in 1923 at the age of 63.

John B. Fairbank’s legacy is arguably more centered in his artistic progeny. Son, J. Leo, studied in Paris and not only created a number of important oil paintings, but served as art department chair at Oregon State University. Son Avard’s history is well known both as a gifted sculptor and member of the faculty at the University of Utah, where he served many years as department chair. Many Fairbanks artists, doctors and other gifted descendants continue to influence the course of art in the West. John B. settled in Provo, where he taught at Brigham Young Academy and also operated a photographic studio. He later moved to Ogden and became the first supervisor of art in the public schools. The Church honored John B. Fairbanks as a patriarch, a holy calling, in the 1930s. He peacefully passed away in 1940 at age 84.

Untitled painting by John Hafen, 1908, courtesy Zions Bank

For his work, “The Wheat Field,” now at Brigham Young University’s Museum of Art, Edwin Evans received an honorable mention at the Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893. He also instructed at and ran the art department at the U with intensity for over 22 years. He was, in the words of LeConte Stewart, “the man who made possible a department of art.”

Herman Haag, the youngest and last to travel to Paris as a Church art missionary, taught at the University of Utah, and showed exceptional talent. Sadly, he was plagued with ill health and died in 1895, shortly before his twenty-fourth birthday.

Many present-day artists can trace their art lineage to these so-called “pioneers in reverse” and I’d be interested in hearing stories about artists from our 15 Bytes readers who can credit their art heritage to these early Parisian-trained artists.

Were there other art missionaries? Yes, is the answer from Richard Oman, Director of the Museum of Church History and Art. There was a second wave of artists, such as Mahonri Young and Lewis Ramsey, who more or less had an arrangement with the Church via commissions. Minerva Teichert was officially called and set apart by LDS officials as an art missionary even though she was not financially supported by the Church. Anthon Lund, son of First Presidency member, Anthon C. Lund, was set apart as a missionary to study music for two years in Austria. LeConte Stewart was called on an LDS mission to Hawaii, and when his talent was apparent, he labored virtually his entire mission painting murals in the Hawaii Temple.

Could there be art missionaries called again? Dr. Oman mentioned some time ago that indeed, Valoy Eaton, A.D. Shaw, Franz Johansen, and Michael Coleman have all served art missions to create murals and paintings in contemporary church temples.

One hundred and seventeen years ago, the LDS Church made a decision during very complex times to pursue the study of the finest techniques of art for the adornment of their beloved temples. The pervasive benefits of that decision so long ago continue to exhibit themselves. As Eliza R. Snow stated in a booklet prepared with John Hafen, “A religious life is not an ideal religious life without art.”

An article on the Art Missionaries, including studies for the Salt Lake City Temple murals can be found here.

 

 

Saturday, September 6, 2025

Hercules at the crossroads

WSJ article with additional info.


Annibale Carracci’s ‘Hercules at the Crossroads’: A Vividly Painted Parable

The Italian artist’s depiction of the young hero torn between virtue and pleasure, rendered in pioneering post-Renaissance style, calls on us to consider the dilemma for ourselves.

Sept. 5, 2025 

https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/fine-art/annibale-carraccis-hercules-at-the-crossroads-a-vividly-painted-parable-36896871?mod=arts-culture_lead_pos1

‘Hercules at the Crossroads’ (1596).
‘Hercules at the Crossroads’ (1596). Photo: Bridgeman Images

These days, the mythological figure of Hercules—son of Zeus, slayer of hydras, cleaner of famously filthy stables—is associated with heroic demonstrations of strength. But for a good part of the past millennium, Western artists concerned themselves with the prelude to his wondrous feats: the youthful Hercules’ predicament of whether to choose an honorable life marked by hardship or an easier life given over to pleasure.

A classical parable revisited by Petrarch in the 1340s—and later depicted by, among others, Albrecht Dürer in the 1490s and Paolo Veronese in the 1560s—this Herculean moral dilemma received its most celebrated treatment in 1596, when the Bolognese-born artist Annibale Carracci made it the subject of a ceiling painting in a cardinal’s study in Rome’s Palazzo Farnese. Carracci’s “Hercules at the Crossroads” later made its way to Naples, where it has become a signature work at the Capodimonte Museum.

With its masterly synthesis of previous styles and its subtle but monumental execution, the painting has taken on a kind of cult status. Erwin Panofsky, one of the 20th century’s most influential art historians, devoted an early and foundational book to it in 1930, and Eike Schmidt, former director of Florence’s Uffizi Galleries and director of the Capodimonte since 2024, counts it among his favorites at the museum.

Carracci’s beardless, adolescent Hercules is perched on a rock, in an apparent state of indecision. At left, the figure of Virtue, bearing a sword, points up at a stark and vertiginous path that culminates with Pegasus, the legendary winged horse associated with heroic deeds and immortality. At right, the figure of Voluptas, the goddess of pleasure, depicted in diaphanous drapery, is gesturing toward a lush and mysterious garden.

Voluptas’s side of the canvas is more engaging and—more than four centuries out—more familiar. A civilizing table in the far-right corner is a still life in miniature, with references to theater-going, music-making and card-playing; above, just lurking in the garden, are beguiling clusters of grapes.

By comparison, Virtue’s dull path is not just harder to endure, but harder to look at, its beginning marked by a desolate, off-putting tree stump. An alert poet figure, in the lower left, is recording the scene in real time, as though the outcome were still uncertain. But we know what Hercules will do, which Carracci hints at with the hero-to-be’s glance and overall body language drifting, it seems, to Virtue’s side.

Carracci (1560-1609) is the great transitional figure in the history of Italian art, credited with providing a way past the dead end of post-Renaissance Mannerism and then forward to Classicism and the Baroque. In the process, he managed to reflect, absorb and somehow sum up predecessors ranging from Michelangelo and Raphael to Correggio and Tintoretto, inspiring the likes of Guido Reni, Nicolas Poussin and Peter Paul Rubens.

To a specialist, the Carracci approach, with its clues and references to what came before and what would come after, abounds in “Hercules at the Crossroads.” The “huge muscles” on the legs of Hercules recall the figures of Michelangelo, Vincenzo Sorrentino, a curator of 17th-century art affiliated with the Capodimonte, told me. Those veils of Voluptas recall a figure in Raphael’s last painting, “Transfiguration” (1516-20), he said, adding that the rich but realistic greenery anticipates the landscapes of Poussin. Then there is the medium itself—a painting meant to hang on the ceiling but, in its original installation, surrounded by frescoes. “A Venetian thing,” said Mr. Sorrentino of the oil-on-canvas format, invoking damp Venice’s lack of a fresco tradition, which dominated in drier Tuscany and Rome.

The early art historians, starting with Giorgio Vasari, distinguished the Venetian use of color, or colore, from the Tuscan and Roman emphasis on drawing, or disegno. Carracci, who could use color as well as any Venetian, was also arguably his era’s leading draftsman, and his impact derives perhaps from this fusion—of making Italian art, at least for a time, whole.

During a visit to the Capodimonte this past spring, it occurred to me that, unlike the now nearby portraits by Titian or the museum’s celebrated religious scene by Caravaggio, the Carracci painting might do without its back story or its context, or even its title—it speaks for itself. Some versions of the Hercules parable, like Dürer’s, are more disturbing (and indeed Carracci’s own Voluptas figure stands for vice, contends Mr. Schmidt), while others, like that of Venetian late Baroque painter Sebastiano Ricci, are more fanciful. Carracci’s is “an exhortation,” in the words of art historian John Rupert Martin. The Hercules figure’s dilemma is also, really, ours.

With the history of art in mind, “Hercules at the Crossroads” may have extraordinary origins and implications. But its power today at the Capodimonte has to do with an imperative call to us ordinary museum-goers, who are the heroes of our own stories: Re-examine how to live your life.

Mr. Marcus writes about art and design for the Journal and other publications.

Copyright ©2025 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 87990cbe856818d5eddac44c7b1cdeb8

Appeared in the September 6, 2025, print edition as 'A Vividly Painted Parable'.

_____

Hercules at the Crossroad by Albrecht Dürer, German, ca. 1498


https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/351295

Veronese The Choice of Hercules, circa 1565




In the painting, Virtue appears to be winning the struggle over Hercules, but Vice has torn Hercules' stocking and still reaches out her hand toward him. Concealed behind her skirt is a dagger and a statue of a sphinx. On the stonework above the scene, an inscription reads "[HO]NOR ET VIRTUS/[P]OST MORTÊ FLORET (Honor and Virtue Flourish after Death)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_Virtue_and_Vice_(Veronese)

RICCI, Sebastiano, Hercules at the Crossroads

1706-07
Fresco
Palazzo Marucelli-Fenzi, Florence


The largest room on the ground floor is the Sala d'Ercole, a hall with two window bays. It has three entrances and presents an elaborate painted decoration extending across all four walls and the entire ceiling. The decoration was executed with the collaboration of Giuseppe Tonelli (1668-1732), one of the best known quadratura painters in Florence. The pictorial program contains the Labours and Apotheosis of Hercules.

A simple, rhythmic arrangement of columns, backed by a gilt ground, structures all four walls in the room. On three sides it is interrupted by a large, arched centre opening. The compositions for these imaginary openings are three of Hercules's more significant labours. Prominent on the end wall is the depiction of the young Hercules at the Crossroads between Vice and Virtue, the other two openings contains Hercules and Cacus, and Hercules and Nessus. On the window wall a painted sculpture depicting Hercules and Antheus can be found.

In the Sala d'Ercole Ricci's fluid, elegant, and atmospheric style attains a brilliance and airiness that set him apart from all his famous contemporaries, and has been shown to anticipate features of Rococo painting.

https://www.wga.hu/html_m/r/ricci/sebastia/3/maruce03.html


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