San Francisco, bronze
The Patron of Santa Fe -- with a Prairie Dog
The bronze began as a small clay figure (9"h), sitting on my modeling-stand for months, its progress dependent on moments free from commitment to commissions. I've long loved the spirit of Francis, have visited the town of Assisi on a number of occasions, and have executed many interpretations of him in paintings, sculpture and ceramics. I find offensive the numerous sentimental versions of him which are dispersed throughout the world, avert my eyes when encountering still one more of the ubiqutous plastic, plaster or resin castings which flourish in gardens, beside patio ponds, and yes, even in our churches.
I deliberately began the small clay figure with Francis' hands clasped behind his back, guaranteeing that he'd be in no position to cradle doves in his palms. Enough's enough! But as the composition developed, it was obvious that his stance and the position of his lowered head demanded that his gaze be focused on something. I simply put a lump of clay there for design purposes, and that's what it remained for months -- simply a lump of clay. One day a visitor to my studio noticed the unfinished work, was much interested in it, and asked what the "lump" was intended to be or would become. I said I didn't know, that it was there, at least for the time being, as a necessary compositional element. He replied that it suggested to him, already looked like, a prairie dog. What better solution. Santa Fe supports many colonies of prairie dogs (at least until new developments run them out), and the city is named for its patron St Francis. The true, full name of our town is La Villa Real de Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asis -- translation, the Royal City of the Holy Faith of St Francis of Assisi. Once completed and cast in bronze, the limited edition of the small statue sold out quickly. One was purchased as a gift by one of her friends for the actress Greer Garson, who had admired it in my studio.
In 1979, the County of Santa Fe announced a competition for Art in Public Places, specifically for a work to be placed on one of the interior walls of Santa Fe's Municipal Building. I read the brochure, went to City Hall to study the designated wall, and concluded that the space was ill-chosen, would not offer sufficient opportunities for residents or visitors to view work placed there. I decided not to enter the competition. But on re-reading the brochure, I found among the lengthy requirements for submission a statement that the judges could diverge from published requirements, dependent on entries submitted. This suggested that I could forget the wall, concentrate on something else.
It seemed right to submit the small bronze of St Francis as a maquette entry for a life-sized bronze to stand before City Hall. I submitted and promptly forgot that I did, following my hard-learned experience that it's unwise to dwell on speculative ventures. When it was announced that I'd won first prize, it came as a sudden, if pleasant, shock. Now I'd have to deal with deadlines, foundry schedules, and, not least, production expenses under the meager cash award accompanying the honor of first prize. I knew that even foundries in Pietrasanta, Italy, which I'd used in the past, though lower in costs than US foundries at that time, would require more funding than that awarded. Fortunately, the local Nambe Mills Foundry agreed to cast the work at less than cost, recognizing the publicity value the project would generate. And so I went to work, long months laboring in clay on the full-scale model, changing -- and improving -- some design elements which worked well at 9 inches but demanded revision at 6 feet. Finally finished and installed before City Hall, the statue was dedicated on November 4, the feast of St Francis, in 1980. Dedication began at St Francis Cathedral with a procession which, though spearheaded by clergy, was something of a Pet Parade. Numerous citizens brought pets of all kinds, leashed or carried in arms, to be blessed at the site of the statue. A typical Santa Fe celebration: clergy in severe black; citizens colorfully bedecked with fiesta dresses, serapes, silver and turquoise jewelry; gringos with their chaps and ten-gallon hats; Native Americans; shawled old ladies fingering rosaries; Mariachi musicians. I've no doubt Francis was pleased at that democratic assembly and the host of animals invoking a blessing in his name.
Watching that dedication, the statue so accessible to the public on a busy corner fronting City Hall, I steeled myself against possible vandalism (afterall, another public bronze of mine, the San Lorenzo standing before St Laurence Cathedral, Amarillo, had already suffered such assault from a disturbed anti-church fanatic, and had required repair). But the years -- and the public -- have been kind to Francis and his prairie dog at that trafficked intersection. Many people stop to read or rest on the benches flanking him, tourists continually photograph family members with the saint as backdrop. The head of the prairie dog sports a golden patina, result of the numerous children who stop to pat him. One Christmas season, a friend phoned to ask if I'd been downtown recently, seen Francis. No, I had not. Well, he explained, the saint was wearing a bright-red Santa Claus cap! My friend suspected I might be offended at such news. No way -- it pleased me to know that someone identified so closely with the work, and could have fun with it. A gentleman from Cathedral parish told me that a little old lady, on her way to Mass each morning, regularly stopped by the statue to collect coins left at the foot of Francis. On arrival at the Cathedral, the old lady promptly deposited the coins in the Poor Box. Only two summers ago, after a long day participating in Community Day on the Santa Fe Plaza, I noticed on my drive home something covering the prairie dog. In busy traffic, I got only a glimpse of what appeared to be an obstruction. Seeing a nearby empty curbside parking space (a rarity in Santa Fe), I left my car and walked back to the statue. The prairie dog was not under a paper-bag or soiled cloth, as I'd thought, but had been crowned with a delicately made floral and paste-jeweled wreath trailing a fine lace veil. Of course -- it was May, the month of Mary, and someone (I never learned who) had decided the prairie dog should sport a May crown. As little girls once donned wreaths and veils to honor Mary during the month of May? Perhaps only in Santa Fe, but this public and intimate relationship with St Francis has been one of the most rewarding experiences of very long years of ups and downs in the life of a professional artist.
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© 1997 drewbaci@santafe-newmexico.com
