A Stroll in the Conservatory Garden

As I said in a Salute from 2004 on the Forgotten Delights site, the Conservatory Garden at Fifth Ave. and 105th St. is among the quietest and most relaxing outdoor places in Manhattan. In August the gardens are not as riotous with flowers as in the Spring, but some of the beds are still spectacular. And, of course, the sculptures are still there, and still among the most cheerful in the city. Below, some recent photos of the Burnett Fountain and the Untermeyer Fountain.

The birds actually do use the birdbath, and then frequently perch on top of the girl's head. I wonder if Vonnoh, the sculptor, thought of that when she gave the girl that tousled upsweep? This is the only sculpture I know of on which birds regularly perch that doesn't have streaks of bird droppings running down its head.

The most famous works by Walter Schott, sculptor of the Untermeyer Fountain, are appropriately in the Sans Souci ("without a care") palace in Potsdam.

Two blocks south of the Conservatory Garden entrance stands Dr. Sims, "The Father of Gynecology," who's in Outdoor Monuments of Manhattan as Essay 47.

Sculptures at St. Mark's in the Bowery and Tompkins Square Park

Aside from the benefits of training yourself to actually think about what you're seeing (see my posts of 7/24/07, 7/25/07, and 7/25/07, subtitled "Open eyes, engage brain"), a sculpture walk can also be a great excuse to get out of your house should the place suddenly be filled with noxious fumes from waterproofing paint being applied in the basement. Here are photos from yesterday's hour-long jaunt from Astor Place to Tompkins Square Park. Only one has appeared on http://www.forgottendelights.com/ .


Above: St.-Mark's-in-the-Bouwerie, 2nd Ave. at 10th St., has two lions by the entrance doors and another outside its fence. Why? In New Testament lore, the symbol of St. Mark is the lion. The one sitting outside the fence imitates Donatello's Marzocco, which became a symbol of Florence in the 15th-c. (The original is now in the Bargello Museum, and a copy occupies its earlier site in the Piazza della Signoria.) St. Mark's is the second oldest church in the city, occupying the site of Peter Stuyvesant's family chapel.


Stuyvesant himself is buried on the grounds of St. Mark's (see the stone in the east side of the foundation), and a bust of him by Toon Dupuis stands to the right of the church. It dates to 1911, a quarter century before the Stuyvesant by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney in nearby Stuyvesant Park. (See Outdoor Monuments of Manhattan #16.) You could guess that from the texture, which is realist/naturalist rather than Rodinesque.

Above: At either end of St. Mark's porch, twined with roses, are over life-size marble sculptures of Native Americans. St. Mark's website notes that they were unveiled in 1920 and identifies them as Aspiration and Inspiration. I have no idea which is which. These are among the last works by Solon Borglum (brother of Gutzon Borglum, creator of Mt. Rushmore), who was known for his romanticized portrayals of Native Americans. The Little Lady of the Dew, another work by Solon Borglum - mentioned in Brooks's Permanent New Yorkers and in Proske's Brookgreen Gardens Sculpture (I, 78) as a fountain figure - is perhaps this fountain on at the corner of the St. Mark's grounds. It's not mentioned on the St. Mark's site.

I'd visited Tompkins Square Park several times before I tracked down the General Slocum Memorial, tucked behind a brick rest-room pavilion on the north side of the 9th St. Traverse. On a balmy day in June, 1904, the paddlewheel steamer General Slocum (named after the Civil War general whose likeness by Frederick MacMonnies stands at Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn), set off on a picnic excursion with the congregation of St. Mark's German Lutheran Church, then located near Tompkins Square. The passengers were mostly German immigrant women and children. Near Hell Gate the steamboat caught fire. Within 15 minutes, over a thousand died in what remains the worst maritime disaster in the New York area. (See Encyclopedia of New York p. 457.)

This 1906 memorial by Bruno Louis Zimm is quite lovely, although rather worn. The inscription on the west side reads, "In memory of those who lost their lives in the disaster to the steamer General Slocum June XV MCMIV." The one on the east side reads, "Dedicated by the Sympathy Society of German Ladies the Year of Our Lord MCMVI."

Above: detail of the General Slocum Memorial. The inscription on the front, "They were earth's purest children, young and fair," sounded like poetic syntax to me, and turns out to be from Percy Bysshe Shelley's "Revolt of Islam," also known as "Laon and Cynthia; or, The Revolution of the Golden City," written in 1817:

They were earth's purest children, young and fair,

With eyes the shrines of unawakened thought,

And brows as bright as spring or morning, ere

Dark time had there its evil legend wrought

In characters of cloud which wither not.

Above: Tompkins Square also has a zinc reproduction of a statue of Hebe (Youth) by Danish Neoclassical sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen. It stands atop a small structure protecting a fountain erected by 19th-c. temperance advocates. Today, when a bottle of Poland Spring is available for the price of ten minutes' work at minimum wage, it's difficult to remember that New York's water supply in the early 19th c. could be deadly. Until the Croton Aqueduct brought upstate water in the 1830s, drinking germ-free alcohol may have saved as many lives as cirrhosis of the liver took.

Above: The last sculpture in Tompkins Square is in the running for my least favorite outdoor sculpture in New York. The figure of Samuel Cox (1824-1889) looks as if he's been assembled from stove pipes; or perhaps he's the Tin Man turned human. Known as the "letter-carrier's friend," Cox sponsored legislation that led to a 40-hour work week and paid benefits for employees of the United States Postal Service. Postal workers across the country chipped in to pay for this sculpture by Louise Lawson, dedicated in 1891. New York Times art critic Layton Crippen derided it as early as 1899: "It has never been alleged, for instance, that the figure of Samuel S. Cox, in Astor Place, is a thing of beauty. But it is equally certain that it is not decorative, and if its surroundings were in harmony with it the City of New York would have to be deserted. To how many other New York statues cannot the same criticism be applied? It is possible that a thousand years or so from now they may be regarded as suitable for decorative purposes, in the same way as we now make use of Aztec grotesques or Easter Island idols. But at present that is out of the question."

As a marketing device for Outdoor Monuments of Manhattan, I recently wrote up a list of tips for taking photos of outdoor sculptures in New York. Read the list or print out copies (tips and images) for your favorite photo fanatics.

Greenpoint War Memorial in HBO's "Flight of the Conchords"

In the "Girlfriends" episode of HBO's Flight of the Conchords, which aired earlier this week, I was thrilled to recognize the Greenpoint War Memorial in McGolrick Park. It appears in the scene where everyone is (more or less) speaking French. For more on the memorial, see my post of July 21, 2007. The croissant clerk / sniper worked in Fabiane, Bedford Ave. at North 5th, which incidentally has the best iced tea on the North Side.

Gargling Gargoyles (correction)

An astute reader just pointed out that the figures on the American Standard Building (see previous post) are not actually gargoyles. A gargoyle, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is "a grotesque spout, representing some animal or human figure, projecting from the gutter of a building (esp. in Gothic architecture), in order to carry the rain-water clear of the walls." I was shocked to have made such an error, although it's an extenuating circumstance that according to the OED, "gargoyle" has come by extension to mean "A projection resembling a gargoyle." However, when using the term re architecture, I think it's better to keep to the original sense. As a philologist (which is what I earned my Ph.D. in lo, these many years ago), I was fascinated to read the derivation: "OF. gargouille (also gargoule, gargole, recorded in 13th c.) = Sp. gargola; app. a special sense of gargouille throat (cf. GARGIL1, GARGLE v.), from the water passing through the mouths of the figures." So gargoyles and gargling have the same root! And now I will never forget that gargoyles spit.

Gilded Gargoyles on American Radiator Building

Above the second floor of the American Standard or American Radiator Building at 40 West 40th St. (south side of Bryant Park), designed by Raymond Hood and completed in 1924, eight gilded gargoyles glitter against the building's black brick facade. According to one website, the gargoyles symbolize the "transformation of matter into energy." Looking at them, I keep wondering just what kind of energy we are talking about. Roaring Twenties, indeed.

This one has the word "Fever" beneath. Perhaps all the others had a title as well, but in most cases they seem to have been painted over too often to be legible.

The building just to the west, completed in 1937, imitates the American Standard Building's facade but has eight more gargoyles in a noticeably different style.

Writing something, possibly drafting a design?

Something mechanical, with a hammer.

Pouring metal into a mold? Look at those abs: very similar to the ones on Lawrie's Atlas at Rockefeller Center, which (not coincidentally) was dedicated in 1937, the year this building was completed. No one says who created these gargoyles. Lawrie had been sculpting long enough that the figures might well have been the work of an eager imitator. The burly-man esthetic was related to Social Realism in the U.S.S.R., a country wholeheartedly admired by a startling number of American intellectuals and artists in the 1930s. (On why I dislike Lawrie's Atlas and which nearby Atlas I prefer, see Outdoor Monuments of Manhattan #29.)

A blow torch?

A furnace of some sort.

A plumber??? He's the only one who hasn't got a cloak flying behind him.

Don't miss the view from across Bryant Park of the top of the American Standard Building: it's gorgeous, especially when the sun's out. The building is now a boutique hotel, the Bryant Park, with a bar that gives you an excuse to sit around admiring the lobby.

I love this photo. It's not taken with a wide-angle lens - it's a curved building shot through a round arcade. (See below.) Northwest corner 57th St. and Lexington Ave.