The Art of the Exposition | Page 4

Hastings, marking the
center of the whole scheme, has a distinct character of its own. There is
no doubt that it is effective, but while its chief merit lies in its colossal
proportions and its relative position, I feel that it lacks that oneness of
conception that characterizes almost every other architectural unit in
the Exposition. One feels too much the stacking up of story after story,
that effort to fill the requirements of a given great height, very much as
a boy sets up blocks of diminishing size, one on top of the other, until
he can go no further because there are no smaller blocks. The whole
effect of the tower is too static. Of its architectural motives, almost too
many seem devoid of much interest, and like the column motive,
repeated too often. The very effective and decorative employment of
"jewels" tends to loosen up and enliven the structure very much. On a
sunny day the effect is dazzling and joyous. The tower has a feeling of
dignity and grandeur, commensurate with its scale and setting.
However, its great height is not apparent, owing largely to its breadth
of base. The Sather Campanile in Berkeley looks higher, though it is
actually one hundred and thirty-three feet lower. The side towers at the
entrances of the Court of Palms and the Court of Flowers, while not so
imaginative as the main tower, are far more sky-reaching. As towers go,
John Galen Howard's tower at the Buffalo Exposition in 1901 stands
unsurpassed in every way as an Exposition tower.
The main Court of Honor, or Court of the Universe, as it is also called,
designed by McKim, Mead and White, impresses by its tremendous
dimensions, which operate somewhat against its proper enjoyment. I
believe that the court is too large - so many things are lost in it, and it
does not convey the quality of shelter that the two lesser courts possess
in such marked degree. The Court of the Universe will never be the
resting place of the masses of the people, in spite of the recently added
attraction of the band stand, a mixture of Roman and Arabic
architecture out of keeping with the surroundings. The conventional
architectural motives of this great court do not help very much in
tempting one to stay, and if it were not for the great arches on the east
and west and the very fine view toward the Column of Progress, I

would feel tempted to classify it as a piece of architectural design of the
stereotyped variety. It has all the great qualities and faults of the court
in front of St. Peter's in Rome. There is too little play of landscape
gardening in and near the Court of the Universe, a condition which will
remedy itself with the breaking into bloom of the great masses of
rhododendron which have been installed in the sunken garden in the
center.
Like all careful interpretations in the classic architectural traditions, the
Court of the Universe has a great feeling of dignity and grandeur,
which gives the visitor a feeling of the big scale of the rest of the
architecture. The court lacks, however, the individual note of the two
side courts.
Toward the west, passing through a very characteristic avenue, in the
style of the happiest phases of the Italian Renaissance to be found in
Florence, one enters the Court of the Four Seasons, by Henry Bacon of
New York. The chief quality of this court is that of intimacy. While by
no means so original as the Court of Abundance, it has a charm all of
its own, in spite of its conventional architectural characteristics, which
are really not different from those of the main Court of Honor.
However, a very happy combination of gardening effects and
architecture, together with the interesting wall-fountains, screened by
stately rows of columns, make for a picture of great loveliness. Of all
the courts, it has the most inviting feeling of seclusion. The plain body
of water in the center, without statuary of any kind, is most effective as
a mirror reflecting the play of lights and shadows, which are so
important an asset in this enchanting retreat. During the Exposition it
will serve as a recreation center for many people who will linger in the
seclusion of the groups of shrubbery and watch the shadows of the
afternoon sun creep slowly up the surrounding walls.
As an Exposition feature, the Court of the Four Seasons is a decided
innovation. At St. Louis, for instance, in 1904, everything seemed to
have been done to excite, to overstimulate, to develop a craving for
something new, to make one look for the next thing. Here, in the Court
of the Four Seasons, one wants to stay. Most