Painting and Sculpture Towards Architecture

Master of Fine Arts Thesis


by William E. Minschew, Jr.



Published by the University of North Carolina 1961
Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Translated for the World Wide Web in the year 2001

copyright: William Minschew 1961


This investigation was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to Academia Bella Arte, Roma, Italia











Plate Numbers
01 Giotto, Arena Chapel, Padua (1303 -1306)
02   Giotto, Arena Chapel, Padua (Diagram)
03 Masaccio. The Holy Trinity - Santa Maria Novell, Florence (1425)
04   Bramante. Choir, Sta. Maria Pressa, S. Satiro, Milan (1479-1514)
05 Mantegna. Camera degli Sposi - Ducale, Mantua (1468 - 1474)
06 Michelangelo. Sistine Ceiling, Vatican, Rome (1508 - 1512)
07 Annibale Carracci. Farnese Palace, Rome (1598)
8A Guido Reni. Aurora ceiling fresco, Caasino Rospigliosi, Rome (1613-1614)
8B Guernico. Aurora Villa Ludovisi, Rome (1621 - 1623)
09  Pietro da Cortona. Palazzo Barberini, Rome (1633 - 1639)
10 Andrea Pozzo. Glorification of the Company of Jesus S. Ignazio, Rome  (1691 - 1694)
11A       G. Rietueld and T. Schroder: Schroder House at Utrecht (1924)
Piet Mondrian: Composition, (1920). Van de Muysenberg collection, Amsterdam, Holland
11B Rietveld
12   Matisse. Chapel of the Rosary, Vence, France (1951)
13 Le Corbusier. Chapel at Ronchamp, France (1950 - 1955)




Images of Historical Reference







14 Plane Construction, A.C.C. (Fall 1958)
15A Plane Construction, A.C.C. (Fall1958)
15B Plane Construction, A.C.C. (Fall 1958)
16A Solid Construction, A.C.C. (Spring 1959) 
16B Solid Constructions, A.C.C. (Spring 1959)
17 Detail, Solid Constructions, A.C.C. (Spring 1959)
18A Early Construction of Morehead Exhibition, Warehouse
(June - August 1960)
18B   Construction of Morehead Exhibition, Warehouse. Free-standing projection and its surrounding relation (June - August 1960)
19A Free-standing projection. Morehead Gallery, University of North Carolina  (September 1960)
19B Upper area of Free-standing projection (detail)
20A Interior - Morehead Gallery. Free-standing projection with large wall panels in the background   (close detail)
20B Sectional arrangement showing the related background areas as seen from under free-standing projection
21A Black and white - construction and development in warehouse
21B Black and white - peripheral canvas as seen from under free-standing section (detail)
22A Corner section, including "closet area" and curved screen
22B The entire structure as seen from a distance
23A Completed Free-Standing screen viewed from outside of curved perimetrical canvas
23B The artist - developing the largest panels (32 ft. long - 14 ft. tall)
24 Morehead Gallery: figures in relation to painted-construction movement
25 Panoramic view of the complete structure superimposed over the original design for the free-standing projection




(To be executed in plastic and stained glass)


26A Entrance composed of sculptured, plastic walls with center space
articulated by a free-standing painting
26B Plan for the structure to be built out-of-doors, possessing its own
lighting effects, pools, and fountains
27 Free-form plastic interior - stained glass area seen against silhouette of space divider
28 Detail of interior: sculptured, plastic projecting corner. Stained glass, circular design above man
29  "Sound Chamber" - space intended for directly relating music to
painterly composition



Investigation One
Pre-Thesis Works


Investigation Two
Pre-Thesis Works


Investigation Three
Pre-Thesis Works


Investigation Four
Thesis Works


Investigation Five
Post Thesis - Fulbright

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Each painter has his own approach in a relative world, he creates problems, experiments, discovers the solutions and executes them to please himself. As I began to develop a painting technique, I felt more and more that the conventional "Renaissance" relationship of the spectator to a panel or wall painting was a limited concept. I began to investigate the changing conditions in art history under which people saw, understood and accepted painting. I wanted to start thinking, without conventional limitations, about the basic form of the canvas itself, as well as the finished painted surface. It interested me especially to know what contribution the pure constructed shape could offer to the final effect of the finished composition.

The following questions arose in my mind:

1. Should the painting be limited to the boundaries of the rectangle?
2. What consideration has been given to the shape and scale of the unpainted canvas?
3. Should painting always be applied to an architectural wall surface, as a decorative or spatial articulator?
4. Can painting exist apart and aside from architecture as a free-standing entity or must it remain as an accent enclosed within architecture?
5. Must easel painting be isolated further on an architectural surface by the addition of a frame?
6. What are the possibilities for an artist to create a painted, sculptured environment in which the spectator would become an integrated part of the composition?

I looked for the answers to these and other questions in the works of the past - from the Parthenon to "de Stijl." I wanted to know how man had related elements of painting, sculpture, and architecture to each other in the past in order to create a new means of expression. I was particularly interested in the disposition of frescoes, now termed "murals", which cover a large expanse of the wall and ceiling and which occur in the history of art from antique tombs and temples through Renaissance churches and baroque palaces, to the 20th century. The idea of surrounding the individual within a painted space fascinated me. I tried to project myself into photographic reproductions of such enclosure, but it was impossible to experience spatially the intended concept of both artist and architect without being in the actual surroundings. After spending the summer of 1958 in Europe, briefly studying the optical aspects of painted spatial articulation, I knew that, for my own work, space could not be relegated to mere illusionistic devices on the canvas.

I began to realize the potential values of changing static, unpainted forms to dynamic ones, not only by developing moving compositions in paint, but by concentrating more on the construction of the frames - giving it more meaning and emphasis. Instead of working with the accepted limits of a rectangle, I decided to alter the shape of the canvas, to expand it, forcing it out into narrow channels, pulling it back rapidly and cuttingly into the main surface concentration. In simple terms, I wished to give the frame a life and dynamic movement of its own, prior to any application of paint.

For convenience and clarity at this point, a definition of the terms (1) constructed movement, and (2) painted movement, follows:
Constructed Movement: that primary sense of direction which a form possesses prior to any development of its surface - the potential tension existing between the form and the space which surrounds it -that manipulation of the pure shape which forces the eye to follow its perimeter and at the same time to encompass the space related to the implied directions of its form.

Painted Movement: that directive quality suggested within a painted composition that causes the eye to move over a predetermined course - the optical direction developed through contrasts.

Immediately the question arose: which movement should dominate in order to create the most dynamic expression? Now, the surface generated by a frame developed in proportionate scale is, by its very nature, somewhat an architectural conception. For purposes of this study, therefore, the constructed movement is equated with architecture in order to set up, by means a brief historical survey, the same problem for ht painters of the past who dealt with architecture in relation to mural painting and who had to answer the same question: which should dominate, painting or architecture?

For my own painting, I have found that in order to create a dynamic expression it is necessary to destroy static equilibruims: the design and execution of both constructed and painted movement must take place simultaneously, one being a direct out-growth of the other, and reaching equal levels of complementing expression. Of course the canvas, as the surface providing for any painted development, is necessarily the first element completed in the final statement, but only after the two movements have been investigated and accepted through the use of countless scale drawings and models.

As a point of departure, for studying mural painting and its relation to architecture, I have chosen Renaissance Italy of the 14th century particularly because it was in Italy that a synthesis developed between painting and architecture. The north, in its Gothic period, developed an equally valuable synthesis, but by employing art forms other than painting.
The de-emphasis of wall-painting northern Europe was natural because so much of the wall was dissolved into large areas of stained glass. As a wall articulation, having the merit of interpenetration between inner and outer surfaces, the stained glass window presents a problem complete in itself. It is, of course, related to the one I am undertaking as is the history of tapestries, which were the decorative mode of insulating Gothic walls where they remained windowless. The third art form, strongly developed and architecturally integrated by the north, was sculpture.

Italian tastes, however, developed along different lines. Geographically and historically, the Italian artist was heir to Classic antiquity and Roman ideals. Artistic tradition dictated the use of massive architecture, monumental sculpture and jewel-like mosaics.
Early in the Renaissance, the Italian artist realized that mosaic principles and technique were no longer flexible enough, nor economically feasible, for expressing anew and rising interest in "realism." Thus, fresco became the chief medium of expression for the muralist.

The High Middle Ages firmly believed that painting remained subordinate to architecture. But in the early Renaissance, painting, though still subordinate, became an essential part of architecture. The painter, having been allotted a given wall space from the very beginning by the architect, developed his area with the idea that architecture was the dominate expression. The painters' responsibility was to produce an intimacy of expression between the two arts. With this in mind, we now turn briefly to the work of Giotto in the Arena Chapel.

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Upon first viewing the Arena Chapel interior, one is convinced that it was envisioned from the beginning as a final and total space concept - an architectural and decorative unity.

Without becoming involved in an examination of the spatial and narrative innovations within the panels themselves, we may concentrate on the union of architecture and painting. Recent observations reveal that this synthesis is one of adapting architecture to painting instead of the reverse. Although I have no written sources to submit as evidence, I believe a close observation of the panels and decorative band arrangement is evidence enough. The entire inner space was merely a "canvas" to Giotto. First a painter must know what he wants to express, then he proceeds to choose an appropriate size and builds upon it. In this respect the Arena Chapel interior exists entirely as Giotto's surface. The architecture was created for the painting. There as no sources to tell us the name of the Arena Chapel's architect, however, it is not inconceivable that Giotto was that architect in view of the precise and mathematically exact interrelationships between painting and structure.

Most writers either state or imply that the windows of the west wall were obstacles which Giotto had to overcome. But I believe he conquered this difficulty as an architect, not as a painter. The windows seem to be the key to the grid pattern. The west wall consists of six windows, five equal panels and two end decorative bands, equal in width to the window opening. Therefore, the system is developed in accordance with a desired panel and band size. To bring everything into proper relationship, the wall was extended at each end by the width of a window opening. Now the window becomes just as much a painterly statement, by virtue of its width and length, as do the decorative bands and the panels. This system is so accurate that it becomes impossible to imagine that the artist worked with such coincidental exactness in an already existing structure. The grid pattern controls the architecture from the beginning.   
( PLATE 2 )

Giotto's handling of the Arena Chapel is a single plastic organism. Apart from the total conception of the interior, Giotto's space within the individual panels begins to open up. Architectural illusion reaches deeper and by empirical reasoning, he produces a convincing, though never accurate, method of perspective. One must remember that Giotto broke no rules of perspective, because none existed. It is not until the early Fifteenth century that a precise scientific system of representative space was arrived at. However, the seeds of its development were solidly rooted in Giotto's system of parallel planes and oblique construction.

In the 15th Century, using aerial and mathematical perspective, Masaccio was able to create an architectural vista never before attained.   (
PLATE 3 )   his space was real and, in form, as monumental as Giotto's. Masaccio, in his "Holy Trinity," establishes an inner flow and exchange between the space of the church and the space of his painted extension. Between the two he developed an illusionistic system of architectural elements. On either side he places Corinthian pilasters, inside of which are full Ionic columns. In the central space between these elements, he abruptly foreshortens the coffered barrel vault. Combined, they create a deep inner space and an intermediate area beyond the actual space of the room. The lines of the ceiling, for which Masaccio is indebted to Brunelleschi, converge at the foot of the cross. The placement of the crucifix fills the space between illusion and reality, revealing Masaccio's true intention. He never used perspective as an end in itself. For he was interested mainly in complementing the realism of his figures with a realism of space.

 It is the first example of an endless series of paintings of this type. But it is of much more significance to use that the whole composition is encircled by a majestic barrel vault. The point of origin from which its perspective is calculated is taken very low, so that the vault may be seen in all its grandeur. This fresco, painted at a time before any Renaissance interior had been completed, represents what seems to be the first successful expression, in architectural terms, of the Renaissance feeling that underlay the development of perspective. It reveals a surprising use of the newly discovered elements in combination with a absolutely circumscribed tectonic surroundings. Its impressiveness was undeniable; even Vasari - familiar with using perspective treatments of space admired the way in which this painted vault pierced the flat surface of the wall.  (1)  

From this time forward, the artist journeyed into architecture armed with an accurate system of depicting space. As a result of his new found power, "artists in general" began to show less respect for the architectural conception of wall surface than did their predecessors.

Exceptions to this disrespect of the architect's intentions by the painter existed in the persons of the "architect-artists," such as Bramante. For example, he employed his painterly side to help create an architectural unity at Sta. Maria Presso S. Satiro where he "translated Alberti's theories into architectural practice."  
(2)   ( PLATE 4 )

Bramante's handling of perspective illusion outstrips even that of Masaccio. Bramante's illusionistic choir in the Church of Santa Maria Presso San Satiro (1479-1514) is actually only a small niche. It was half built up and half painted, in order to produce the greatest possible effect of depth with the space at the artist's disposal. For us it has importance as one of the steps leading from Masaccio's fresco to St. Peter's.

Many art histories believe that he was forced to revert to illusionistic means in solving the spatial imbalance of the church, since the street prevented the proper physical extension of the choir. However, Bramante was present when the land for the church was purchased,  (4)   so it might seem that, being an architect of considerable reputation, he would have been aware of the problem from the start and not suddenly have had to resort to such a device; a possible explanation is that he had a preconceived idea for combining illusionistic and real space. The important fact is that he, as architect, solved his space problems by skillfully substituting a painted illusion of extreme recession in only two feet of physical actuality. The keystone of his success lies in the violently foreshortened, coffered vault.

Thus Bramante's intention becomes clear; his aim, it would appear, was to transform objective reality in such a way as to render perceptible the essence, or idea, in the neoplatonic sense . . . the latin-cross plan called for a dome at the crossing; but the shallow site afforded no space for the choir; Bramante hollowed out the choir in trompe-d 'oeil, thereby restoring to the dome its correct significance. The whole building comes alive because of this stroke of genius.  (5)

However, this illusion was completely successful only when seen from the very center of the room. Mantagna's Camera degli Sposi reinforces an earlier statement that the 15th Century painter began more and more to assert his own superiority by not respecting the architect's conception of the wall surface. ( PLATE 5 ) Here the artist painted several decorative pilasters on the wall, where the various ribs of the ceiling rested. Unity between the structural and the painterly was achieved by supplying a visual structural connection at the point of contact between the ribs and the vertical plane of the wall.

However, this does not hold true for the handling of all of the painted pilasters and it is this latter feature which caused one to question the actual situation of the wall surface. On the adjacent wall, Mantegna allows a figure to stand in front of the pilaster, and upon the mantel of the fireplace. To the left, stands another figure, shown before the pilaster. Mantegna uses another device for extending his space - a rod between the arches. The leather drape is pulled in front of the left pilaster and secured behind it. Mantegne uses a connecting circular-ring decorative motif throughout which sets up a pattern relationship between the wall and ceiling paintings.  

The ceiling opens into a canopy of foliage around a circular balustrade, through which the blue sky is visible. In reality the ceiling is flat, and its apparent convexity is an illusion which is completely successful only when seen from the very center of the room. The spectator is not deceived, but is rather invited to take part in a game in which; he is the gainer: he remains aware of his role in the play, but by his active participation he is enabled to re-create the decorative pattern so intensely that the figures in the assembly to which he has been invited are imbued with overpowering strength.  (7)

The identification of real with represented space, of the space of the room with that of the picture, is a quatrocento principle, based on ancient Roman painting.  (8)

Thirty years later another, even greater, painter developed theories pertaining to painting in architecture. Professor Walter Friedlaender refers to Michelangelo's Sistine frescoes as having " a Space without Reality."  (9)

Pope Julius II, in the spring of 1508. Summoned Michelangelo from Florence, desiring him to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. In 1499 Michelangelo made sketches of frescoes by Giotto and Masaccio.  
(10)   When he arrived in Rome, he found that the existing Sistine ceiling was constructed in a pattern similar to that of the Arena Chapel in Padua, that is, painted to represent blue sky with gold stars. Giotto had divided the walls into compartments: now Michelangelo arranged the ceiling in a quadri riportate style, following, exactly the architecture.  (11)

Although both men achieved a unification of design from the component panels assembled on the wall surface, their aims within the individual paintings were quite disparate. Within the framework of the Sistine appear prophets and sibyls enthroned Old Testament tales and young male "ignudi." They are, however, almost entirely without benefit of illusionistic space, created in areas of compression and tension where they " . . . live and act in such a space, fearfully narrowed, almost canceled, and their powerful expansiveness points toward liberation only in a transcendental and divine space."  
(12) Michelangelo sought to heighten the spiritual monumentality of his work by denying space to the immense forces of his figures.  ( PLATE 6 )   Furthermore, the triangular spandrels in the corners of the room are used, in this case, to emphasize acutely the pinched confines of their form. Consider the mass action of "the Brazen Serpent," composed only by the overlapping, intertwining press of bodies with a single indication of spatial depth silhouetting the idol. Even here, where Michelangelo has broken into optical space, there are counteracting elements which prevent the illusion of depth from being adequate to accommodate his voluminous figures. In Rome the next monumental fresco decoration occurs in the Early Baroque period and combines these structural aspects of the Sistine ceiling with North Italian illusionism.

Annibale Carracci's handling of the frescoes in the Farnese Palace ceiling is so intensely personal, that even placed in their proper juxtaposition with early Mannerism, they are difficult to understand.   
( PLATE 7 )   That Annibale Carracci either did not wish to , or was incapable of, realizing the spiritual content of Michelangelo's work is clearly evident form his ceiling at the Palazzo Farnese, although there is no doubt that he based his overall plan upon that of the Sistine. In addition, he used his considerable painterly skill to turn bare plaster into real and convincing space. The most notable contrast between the "Sistine and the Farnese ceilings occurs at the corner spandrels: Carracci intentionally built up a crescendo of plastic forms, approaching the corners. Occasionally the interflow of real and represented space is interrupted by the placement of the Putti, but generally speaking, it is this adventure into spatial freedom - opening the wall to the sky - which leads subsequently to the full Baroque and a complete dissolution of the architecture by painted illusion.

In Annibale's handling of the quadrature framework,  
(13)  "There is a subtle build-up from the corners toward the center, producing a dynamic quality quite different from the steady rhythm and comparative simplicity of Michelangelo's Sistine ceiling, . . . for the first time there is a noticeable continuity leading on from the real architecture of the walls to the painted decorative figures of the ceiling which contribute perceptibly to the dynamic unity of the entire gallery."  (14)

Within the larger decorative framework, Carracci transfers multiple easel paintings to the ceiling, each rendered objectively within an isolated frame - quadri riportate.

Following the progress from such multiplicity to a concept nearer Baroque unity, we should consider the different spatial concepts of "Aurora" as painted by Guido Reni (1613 -1614) and Guercino (1621-1623).   (

Here is contrast between the "set-in" easel picture and a design which, though architecturally integrated, destroys the surface structure of the actual building. The Reni painting is definitely placed on the ceiling and affirms the plane of the roof. Aurora is shown in profile as opposed to Guercino's tremendously foreshortened arrangement, seen from below. In the Guercino, architecture transcends its own structured bounds. Arches do not bear the weight of the ceiling, but terminate in the open sky. To emphasize this paradox, one arch is painted as if in ruins. Spatial displacement has certainly arrived at a point far removed from Mantegna's Camera degli Sposi.

While the distance in time from Mantegna to Guercino is rather far, the steps are shorter from Guercino to Cortona.

Following the tradition of quadrature painting, Cortona created an illusionistic architectural framework which he partially concealed beneath a wealth of garland-bearers, shells, masks, and dolphins. They are painted in simulated stucco, feigning the authentic decoration fashionable in Rome since it was first seen in Raphaels' Loggia. The framework divides the whole ceiling into five separate areas, each showing a painted scene in its own right. Although something of the quadri riportate character is still felt, Cortona has created, at the same time a coherent "open" space. The illusion is a dual one: the same sky unites the various scenes behind the painted stucco framework, and at the same time, figures and could, superimposed on it, seem to hover within the vault just above the beholder. Without the framework it would be impossible to perceive the juxtaposition of illusionistic expansion and contraction. Cortona achieved one of the Baroque's most breathtaking and dynamic compositions in this particular fresco.   (

It is worth recalling that mannerist ceiling and wall decoration in central Italy was concerned primarily with figures apparently projecting into real space but not necessarily extending it. By contrast, the architectural construction of the quadrature painters, aimed at a precisely defined extension of space. Carrying technical virtuosity to the ultimate, an unlimited space continuum was accomplished by Correggio in the decoration of domes. Finally, the double illusion, where figures may appear in painted space, some behind and some in front of a feigned architecture, has also a long history. It is most easily traced in northern Italy, from the time of Mantegna's Camera degli Sposi on.   

Some of the most sumptuous decorations of the late Baroque are Padre Pozzo's immense frescoes in S. Ignazio. They are virtually the epitome of monumental Baroque painting and an example of the greatest of all quadrature compositions.   ( PLATE 10 )

The illusion is so perfect (there is only one point from which the maximum effect is obtained) that, immediately one is overpowered by the rapid thrusts of man and space bursting from their earthly ties. Architectural limits are dissolved between the suggested and real structure: architecture in its extension is displaced by the open sky (i.e. sky is seen between columns, above and under arches). Not only does an accurate handling of perspective help to create the total effect but combines with the upward sweep of light and dark, to make the illusion most convincing.

Pozzo's quadrature is always strictly architectural and in so far old-fashioned; it is only the virtuosity and hypertrophic size of his schemes - typical signs of a late phase - that give him his special stature.  (16)

Painting and architecture are so intimately combined that it is sometimes difficult to perceive where one begins and the other ends. There are literally no frames to confine or define the painting form the architecture.

The next great stylistic change in painting occurred in the 18th Century in the form of "Late Baroque Classicism" and the Italian and German Rococo. In the Baroque, the painter had exhausted all principles of illusion. Perspective had been exploited to its perfection in order to produce ceilings of apparently infinite space. In 1757, Tiepolo executed "Cleopatra's Feast" in the Palazzo Labia, Venice, in which he created an illusionistic ensemble on both ceiling and wall. The result produced by the wall painting is reminiscent of Pompeii.

An excellent example of German Rococo is found in the Zwiefalten Cathedral:

 This masterful merger of art, artifice and architecture was the specialty of the rococo age. Developing from the grandly moving forms and imposing dramatic effects of the 17th century Baroque art, the rococo style first flowered in the courts of France where it derived its name form the work Rocaille, meaning shell work, because of its sprightly, curving designs. For almost a century everything from teapots to palaces, fairs to funerals was an occasion for glittering rococo artistry and theatrical display. In the north German provinces this creative spirit coincided with a revival of religious zeal. Catholic bishops, abbots and noblemen tried to outdo one another I building of churches, sometimes going wildly into debt in the process.  (17)

It was in France that two theoretical concepts, Italian in origin, were taken up and developed which, when handed back to Italy became instrumental in undermining the relative freedom of both the Late Baroque Classicism and the Italian Rococo. One of these, proportion in architecture, which had always fascinated the Italians, was turned into an academic subject during the seventeenth century by Frenchmen like M. Durand and F. Blondel. When in the course of the eighteenth century it was taken up again by the Italian Derizet (a Frenchman by birth), Ricciolini, Caliani, F.M. Preti, G.F. Cristiani, Bertoltti-Scamozzi, and others, it had the stereotyped rigidity given to it by the French. Canonical proportions can, of course, be applied only where divisions are emphatic, unambiguous, and easily readable - in a work, in a rational, i.e., classical architectural system. The age of reason was dawning, and to it also belongs the second concept in question. The Frenchman, de Cordemoy, (1615 - 1722) had first preached in his "Nouveau Traite" of 1706 that truth and simplicity must dictate an architect's approach to his subject and that the purpose of a building must be expressed in all clarity by its architecture - intellectual requirements behind which one can sense the rational concept of a 'functional" architecture. Antique in origin, the principle of the correspondence between the purpose of a building and the character of its architecture had always been a cornerstone of Italian architectural theory; nothing else is adumbrate by the demand of 'decorum.' But now, interpreted as simplicity and naturalness, the concept had implied a strong anti-Baroque and anti-Rococo bias.  (18)

Upon the reassertion of the architect's superiority, painting lost its indispensable quality for the overall design. Witness the handling of an English interior such as Johan Nash's Royal Pavilion, Brighton, Banqueting Room of 1815-1818.   (19)


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Because it inherited late 18th Century concepts, the 19th Century, born out of the industrialization and the changes which issued from it (social, economic, scientific, and cultural), did not produce a synthesis in any real sense of combining painting and architecture. Painting and architecture developed along separate paths, each being affected by modern achievements. The artist was influenced by new structural principles and new materials: steel, glass and reinforced concrete. The painter reacted to discoveries about light and color and to a new chemical synthesis which produced more luminous pigments. Although painting and architecture remained separate for most of the century, the time was valuable as a reappraisal of progress accomplished in both fields. There was a period for withdrawing to the easel and the drawing board. Though there was much experimentation by forward looking designers, a great many artists looked back too often to the past for inspiration. This aspect, in the first half of the century, produced a low standard of mural painted. Only one example stands out among all the rest: Paul Chenavard's proposed designs for the decoration of the Pantheon in Paris.  (1)   Though the project never came to rest in its intended setting, it is worthwhile mentioning for its monumental and ambitious plan. His system was one of the

 . . . most ambitious mural plans ever worked out by one man in the entire history of art, excepting, perhaps, Ghirlandaio's fabled desire to fresco the walls of Florence . . . . But there is another reason for remembering him, and that is the fact that he was the only painter of the century in France who attempted an historical, symbolic analysis from a peculiar but essentially modern, point of view.  (2)

Stylistically they are not of great importance, painted as they were entirely in grisaille, and in the hard cold contour of the German fashion. At the time there was much criticism on these very grounds, but the artist's defense was that they were to appeal to the mind not the eye, and furthermore, he felt that the austere grandeur of the Pantheon would best be complemented by similarly grave paintings which were, however, to be set in elaborate colored frames. Outside of their intended setting, as they were when exhibited in the Salon, they look dull and traditional though several of them have a truly monumental design.  (3)

Chenavard had planned not only to incorporate the walls into the painting, but the floor as well. In every respect the Pantheon plans of Chenavard would certainly be an improvement over what exists today.

Architects now began designing and executing buildings from the materials of their age. For the Great London Exhibition of 1851, Joseph Paxton designed a "Crystal Palace" based on prefabricated parts. In 1958-68, Henri Labrouste executed his design for the Bibliotheque Nationale, taking his interior motifs from Renaissance and antique sources, and applying them to the surface of the metal structure (i.e., Brunelleschi's Founding House at Florence, and the Pantheon of Rome.)  

This application of design to architecture seems best described in its surface handling, when referring to 19th Century building; a feature which will be considered later in connection with the surface quality of Art Nouveau interior design. The general concept was toward a structural emphasis. Standards by which architecture had been judged in the past, were no longer applicable. The trend was toward a more open spatial arrangement which, in the 20th Century has presented the mural painter with less wall space. The Industrial Exhibition of 1889 in Paris displayed an iron construction spanning 35 meters and rising a distance of 25 meters. Besides displaying his engineering genius in the "Galerie des Machines," Guistave Eiffel erected as well a "tower of iron" to a height of 1,000 feet, but he was scarcely an architect. These structures produced great changes in architecture, but it was obvious by this time that the painter' position, in connection with the architect, had been filled by the engineer. Outer and inner space achieved complete inter-penetration. As early as 1867 an article appeared in the "Revue Generale d'Architecture" by Cesar Daly in which he asks: "is it the fate of architecture to give way to the art of engineering? Will the architect be eclipsed by the engineer?"  (5)   Engineering skill and the nature of its materials were the chief ingredients of the architect's product. The machine became another element to master; "Functionalism" became an important byword. Since the machine was functional, artists came to regard it as a thing of beauty. This new appreciation for the mechanical was manifest in the graphic arts and also in the theater. Recall, for example, certain scenes which employed the sounds of machines as a part of the performance: Wagner's "Ring of the Niebelung" called for anvils to be hammered off stage and Charpentier's opera, "Louise", used the drone of sewing machines.

Finally, during this interregnum, in which man caught up to the machine, there came a reaction against the machine and the aesthetic which regarded it as a thing of beauty. In the early '90s, there arose a search for a new and independent synthesis of form based on purely aesthetic values. Its inspiration was derived from nature, form which it took its motif.

About the beginning of the year 1890, a war cry; was issued from one studio to the other. No more easel painting! Down with these useless objects! Painting must usurp the freedom which isolates it from the other arts. . . . Walls, walls to decorate . . . (6)

Under the name "art nouveau," this European-born style of decoration reached its peak at the Paris Exhibition of 1900. The movement produced the boldest expressionism seen during the last decade of the 19th Century. Horta, working in Brussels, abolished any clear definition between structural planes by creating a fluid baroque space, based on plant forms as ornamentation. His aim was a complete synthesis of parts. "This unity of the arts was most evident in the comprehensive design of the house. There the wallpaper design is related to the light fixture and the cutlery, and the design of the book carefully echoes that of the cabinet."  (7)  Art Nouveau and other contemporary movements succeeded as well in reintegrating painting with the general décor. The emphasis was on the undulating line with an insistence on creating a two-dimensional painted surface. The late 19th Century reacting to its sterile and academic heritage desired radical changes. The Industrial Revolution and the unprecedented scientific theories of Darwin and Freud broke down barriers of thought to allow new concepts in all fields, including the world of art.


The 20th Century

By such milestones as the publishing of Sigmund Freud's Interpretation of Dreams in 1900, the founding of ethnological museums in Paris, the painting of "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" by Picasso in 1907; the stage was set for a modern, polyrhythmic drama, in which man was presented with new concepts of space and time. These concepts of the relation between painting and architecture are clearly stated retrospectively in a "de Stijl" catalog of 1951.

In the course of time, the art of painting has separated itself from architecture, it has developed itself independently and has - spiritually as well as regarding form - obtained its own character by experimenting and destroying naturalness and the old ideas. But nevertheless it always needs the plane and its final desire will always be to use the necessary practical plane, which is created by architecture. More than that, it will - by expanding from individuality to universality - demand from the building the entire colour-and-form conception belonging to painting as its rightful domain. If the architects look out for a painter who will create the demanded plastic image, then the modern painter also looks out for an architect, who offers the suitable condition in order to attain an essential uniformity of plastic arts by joint efforts. We demand 'self restraint' of the architect, because he has so much I hand, which actually does not belong to architecture and which must be represented differently than the architect would do. Building, to be sure, is something quite different to painting, it stands in an entirely different relation to infinity. Below five indications are stated, explaining the difference between building and painting, i.e., painting, such as it appears in the last resort.

1. Modern painting is: destruction of plastic naturalness as contrasted with" construction of plastic naturalness in architecture.
2. Modern painting is: open, as contrasted with: combinableness and reservedness in architecture.
3.  Modern painting is: full of colour and space, as contrasted with: the colourless flatness of architecture.
4. Modern painting is: plasticity in spatial flatness: extensions, as contrasted with space-limited flatness of architecture.
5. Modern painting is: plastically well-balanced, as contrasted with architecture, which is constructively  well-balanced (support and weight).  (8)

The preceding selection is taken form the text of a 1951 catalogue for a "de Stijl" retrospective exhibition held in Amsterdam. It conveys clearly the intentions of that group toward relating painting to architecture. Founded in Holland, during World War I (1917), "de Stijl" ideals promulgated a generalized synthesis of the arts. Rising from the ashes of burned-out theories, "de Stijl" expanded to embrace a unification of pure painting and architecture. Piet Mondrian and Theo van Doesburg, the founding forces behind the movement, simplified cubism and codified the esthetics of its experimentation, thereby laying down basic canons for painting, sculpture and architecture. Compositions were based on rectangular shapes and separation of volumes, interpenetrations of planes, volumes out of planes, color contrast using the primary pigments and, in general, right angle construction producing asymmetrical balance.  (9)

"De Stijl" forms were directly translatable into the functional designs of architecture. A case in point is the transition from painting, in the style of Mondrian or van Doesburg, into the architectural composition by G. Rietveld in the Schroder House at Utrech, 1924. It is strong evidence of direct influence form abstract painting. The visual pattern rests on a precise balance of horizontal and vertical elements. The formula of the painter has been put to a utilitarian practice. The Schroder House not only describes a painterly transformation but also has certain sculptural qualities, manifested in the interpenetration and distribution of rectangular planes and masses. The volume-forming planes construct a framework of tension producing a mass in a state of equilibrium. The same is true of the Mondrian painting in which all proportion, all placement of planes and lines, exist so tightly in harmony, that to remove one element, or shift it from its axis, would cause the entire composition to collapse.  
(10)  ( Plates 11A and 11B )

Doesburg and Mondrian felt there was. . . no longer a justification for easel-painting in its traditional character, either as a illustrative reproduction of visual experience, or as a decoration. They felt painting had passed beyond that stage. Easel-painting for Doesburg, as for Mondrian, was almost exclusively an expression of his philosophical view of the world in a vocabulary of forms conscientiously reduced to the strident pictorial essentials - line, color and space intervals: a concrete analogue of that union of particular and universal which they saw as constituting the harmony of the universe.

Both Doesburg and Mondrian looked beyond easel-painting in the sense that they visualized the total environment of man as a potential work of art once it could be given the order which they were striving to achieve on their canvases. For this reason the easel-painting of both Doesburg and Mondrian must not be looked at in the same way we regard most pictorial representations, but as microcosmic patterns, or as models of the artists' larger visions.  (11)

Two years after the birth of "de Stijl" in Holland, Walter Gropius fathered a parallel school at Weimar, Germany in 1919, called, the Bauhaus. It was through one of Gropius's colleagues, American-born Lyonel Feininger, that the concepts and projects of "de Stijl" were brought to the Bauhaus. Gropius surrounded himself with teachers from the field of applied arts.

However, it should be emphatically stated that the Bauhaus under Gropius' leadership eventually went far beyond "de Stijl" by using a primarily functional, rather than an abstract 'geometrical', system of design. De Stijl in its use of materials was curiously limited and its insistence on flat, primary colors was thoroughly doctrinaire. Furthermore, it was often too much dominated by an abstract painting to permit a piece of furniture or a building to take a natural form based upon function, or to be finished with emphasis upon natural surfaces or textures.  (12)

An examination of the works of other pioneers of modern architecture points to similar conceptions: Van der Velde, Dudock, and Frank Lloyd Wright have shown in their works a plasticity and a feeling of artistic unity that we could seek for in vain in the glass cubes of our contemporary architects, however functional and technically perfect they may be. The "de Stijl" movement notably reveals that the founders of modern architecture had no desire to separate the arts and architecture. Their movement which was the first to lay down the esthetic principles of modern architecture, represents also the greatest effort made towards the integration of the arts since the beginning of the century.

Neoplasticism is the only movement of modern times that has created a collective style and has reinstated architecture in a universal theory of the arts. The activities of the group were underlined by a close collaboration between architects, painters, sculptors and plasticians. . . . In 1923, with the exhibition of the 'de Stijl" group at the Leance Rosenberg Gallery in Paris, the architects van Doesburg, Rietual and van Easteran declared: "We have given color its rightful place in architecture, and we asset that painting separated from the architectural construction (i.e., the picture) is without justification.  (13)

Though "de Stijl" theories were at the height of their acceptance and application in Paris in 1925 when painting and architecture were at their closest point of tangency, a reaction set in against the extreme geometrical austerity of its synthesis. Under the influence of Leger, Ozenfant and even Le Corbusier, came a gradual return to more complexity and variety in forms and colors. The desire for synthesis persisted, but inspiration came from human experience and motifs renounced the sterility of cubic confines. This growing fluency, the gradual increase of expressionism among artists, resulted form the intercession of war and the growth of emotional stress in the western world. This state of affairs directly opposed the mechanistic approach to a modern synthesis and once more painter and architect were separated. Only when the architect happened to be also a painter did the two merge in a single work. Nevertheless, there were some sincere attempts to effect a reintegration of painting and architecture. Most such efforts failed as did the mural decorations for Rockefeller Center in the 30's, and more recently, the U.N.E.S.C.O. headquarters in Paris. In connection with the Rockefeller Center decorations, it is interesting to note the active discussion generated by Matisse's connection with the project.

In 1932 while he was in the midst of his work on the Barnes decoration,  (14)   Matisse received an invitation to undertake another important mural commission. At the suggestion of Mrs. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. and Nelson Rockefeller, Rockefeller Center, which was then under construction in New York, asked Matisse, along with Picasso and Diego Rivera, if he would submit preliminary designs for murals to be installed in the entrance hall of the huge R.C.A. building, the central structure of the huge Rockefeller Center group. The invitation was brought to Matisse by John R. Todd, head of the construction company and Raymond Hood, one of the architects. They had in mind that the murals would be painted on canvas in tones of black, white and gray upon the general theme "New Frontiers - March of Civilization."

Todd and Hood explained the scheme of decoration to Matisse but before they could come to any precise terms the painter made clear that he did not think he work could be seen to good advantage in such a public place where bustle and confusion would interfere with the quiet, reflective state of mind which he felt necessary for the appreciation of his paintings. Also, he could not promise to complete the mural within a period of two years. Under the circumstances he did not feel that he could honestly accept the commission. Picasso did not accept either and Rivera's mural was ultimately removed. Murals by Frank Brangwyn and Jose Maria Sert now decorate the great entrance hall.  (15) 

Mr. Barr referred earlier to the Matisse mural in the Barnes Gallery (Philadelphia, 1933). Here the painter senses immediately the pattern and rhythms set up by the architecture. Matisse employs the curving of the lunettes to emphasize the tumbling sensation of the figure in his Dance II. His intense awareness that architecture sets up certain statement of its own which dictate somewhat the partial development of a mural composition, is revealed by his reaction on being informed that the previously quoted wall dimensions were slightly off. Instead of m9odifying the completed drawings, he cast them aside and reconstructed, at full scale, the architectural design, then proceeded to rework his ideas completely.

In correspondence with Dorothy Dudley in 1933, Matisse relates his position and aims concerning the Barnes mural:

From the floor of the gallery one will feel it rather than see it, as it gives the sense of sky, above the green conveyed by the windows. . . It is a room for paintings: to treat my decoration like another picture would be out of place. My aim has been to translate paint into architecture, to make of the fresco the equivalent of stone or cement. This, I think, is not often done any more. The mural painter today makes pictures, not murals.

Apropos of this architectural preoccupation, Miss Dudley asked Matisse about Puvis de Chauvannes, who had been largely responsible for the modern theory and practice of "keeping the wall flat" in mural painting, a departure from the Renaissance-Baroque tradition of breaking the wall surface by means of illusionistic perspective and lighting. Puvis had demonstrated his principles in his flat, pale gray, green and blue murals in the Pantheon. Matisse answered: "The walls of the Pantheon . . . are of stone - Puvis' paintings are too soft in feeling to make the equivalent of that medium. If one had a diamond, say, one would set it in metal, not in rubber . . ." In other words, Puvis had not gone far enough.

Matisse broke with tradition in still another way. Except in Mexico, modern murals were ordinarily designed in small maquettes or models. These small designs were then squared off and enlarged more or less mechanically to the full scale. Matisse went about the Barnes mural in quite a different way, as he explained in some notes prepared for Raymond Escholier.

 Perhaps it would be important to make clear that my mural is the result of a physical encounter between the artist and some fifty-two square meters of surface of which the spirit of the artist has had to take possession; it is not the result of the usual modern procedure of projecting or blowing up a composition more or less mechanically on a surface so many times bigger by means of tracings. A man with his searchlight who follows an airplane in the immensity of the sky does not traverse space in the same way as an aviator . . . (16)

In 1948, Matisse gave up easel painting altogether so that he might concentrate his full effort toward creating what he considered his "masterpiece in spite of its imperfections," the Chapel at Vence.   ( PLATE 12 )

Matisse is quoted as saying, "In the Chapel my chief aim was to balance a surface of light and color against a solid white wall covered with block drawings." As modest as these endeavors may have seemed to him, he went much further than the mere balancing of light and color within a white field. His talents reached out in all directions, bringing in all elements: material, light, color painting, sculpture, stained glass, floor and furniture designs, even spatial interrelation set up by a human figure, to produce the most structurally and emotionally complete synthesis of modern times. At Vence, Matisse oriented his plane of work in terms of the painter, not the architect, in fact, his paintings and painterly relations dictated the architecture even though August Perret acted as architectural consultant. By these terms he was very much akin to Giotto, whose frescoes at Padua he visited in 1933 shortly after completing the Barnes commission. He even went so far as to design yellow, green, black, white on black, and black on pink chasubles to be worn by the clergy for services in the Chapel. He is the first person in modern times to include the performer or observer so directly in creating transitional harmonies. Other than the light and color of the stained glass, the brightly designed chasubles are the only internal accents of color. In addition, his scheme included patterns for the floor, the simple altar, and crucifix and the Chapel furniture and confessional door. The manner in which he arrived at this synthesis is considered primarily as painterly application though he also carved the spire and crucifix.  (17)

Turning from the predominance of the painterly at Vence, we find an example of unification in Corbusier's Ronchamp Chapel.   ( PLATE13B ) Which accentuates sculptured qualities: In building this Chapel, I wished to create a place of silence, of prayer, of peace, of spiritual joy. A sense of the sacred animated our effort. Some things are sacred, others are not whether they be religious or not. . . . A few scattered symbols, a few written words telling the praises of the virgin. The cross - the true cross of suffering - is raised up in this space; the drama of Christianity had taken possession of the place form this time onwards. Excellency, I give you this Chapel of dear, faithful concrete, shaped perhaps with temerity but certainly with courage in the hope the it will seek out to you (as in those who will climb the hill) an echo of what we have drawn into it.  (18)

The qualities which Le Corbusier has envisioned in Ronchamp, produce a dynamic plastic statement, suggesting a possible direction for the modern architect, painter and sculptor. They are filled with his own stained glass designs and paintings. The mural on the door of the Chapel   ( PLATE 13A )   is very much in keeping with the design of the overall façade. It is one focal point among many, but it possesses a different quality altogether - the building is enriched by such a profusion of rich textures. "Corbu" incorporates the structural effects imprinted on the concrete by the wooden forms. He also blasts certain portions with sand guns and even textural defects seem a purposeful part of the whole. Light plays over the concrete in broad areas, producing spatial movement and changing relations between surface.

Narrow incisions of great penetration, shaft-like in form, pit the concrete bulk of his wall. The imposition of brilliant color on the rough, greyish walls, creates such a dynamic contrast that the eye is immediately directed toward the mural. By making the door the plane of the mural, its purpose is emphasized. It is a portal to which people are attracted and through which they pass. Le Corbusier creates a painterly relationship between linear and planimetric forms, the divisions of the mural and the scattered dark openings in the wall   (19)  in all its aspects, Ronchamp Chapel is a rare example of a real synthesis of the arts. The designer has stepped beyond the "mechanized synthesis," for he has aroused our emotional senses and given a new reaction to architecture. Corbu also has gone back to lots of wall space.

The works selected in this brief historical survey were not intended to imply that a "real synthesis" is only within the scope of an individual skilled in all three fields of art, but one must remember that such a synthesis must begin within an individual. He must be trained in all three arts if he is to grasp the major significance in relating them one to the other. But to produce a harmonious fusion is a matter of individual appetite-the desire to express oneself well in various ways instead of one. In some instances, collective efforts have been partially successful but they are rare.

A recent example of the failure of a collective effort can be seen at the U.N.E.S.C.O. headquarters in Paris (1958). An impressive array of talent was present, not as a "collective mind" in the true sense of the term, but as outstanding individuals representing their countries in the art would. And so the edifice stands as a multiplicity of individual expression with no apparent relation. How could so many men be so wrong? The catalogue of the opening refers to the Headquarters as ". . . a synthesis of 20th Century artistic and architectural expression."  (20)

The international character of its construction becomes visible the moment one crosses its threshold: the floor is of Norwegian quartzite, aluminum panels have dome form Belgium, lighting equipment was made in the United States and on the French-made glass doors are teak finger plates from Burma.  (21)

If it is humanly possible to create a synthesis out of so much diversity, not only of artists, architects and materials, but of elements of so many complex cultures, then, it would indeed be an outstanding utopian solution. All of the art forms were created away; from the site of the architecture, and each painter was given an allotted area. One of the glaring faults in such an arrangement as this is that the artist is not allowed to develop his painting under the realistic conditions of the setting, its lighting conditions (which change continuously) or the proximity of human traffic.  (22)  The greatest asset for a muralist is the opportunity to develop his scheme under the particular conditions of its permanent location. Working anywhere other than that location, the muralist is unable to see how his compositional developments relate in scale and meaning to the physical aspects of the surrounding area. He must know such things as the weight of the ceiling, the mass of the wall, the shadows of the interior, etc.

The United States passed through an interesting encounter with mural decoration during the period of the Works Progress Administration. This unfortunate interlude produced the most, and probably the worst, mural painting in the history of art. In the early '30s the American artist found himself totally unprepared to accept commissions for projects mural decoration of Governmental building in every state, but one morning, it seemed, everyone woke up and became an "Instant Muralist." Artists pushed aside their easels and went downtown to paint the Post Office walls. The majority of these painters could not visualize architectural space or its function. Many more of them could not read a blueprint. Nor could they grasp the meaning of transition from easel to wall. The wall, for the most of them, had been nothing more than a surface upon which they hung their pictures. I think the answer to why America has not produced any outstanding muralist is not in the fact that we have been divorced from architectural painting for a century or more, but that we were never properly married in the first place. Our foundations are terribly shaky. Most of the mural decorations which was executed in the W.P.A. program was done in a realistic "Academic" manner, and the results were timidly conventional.

A truly successful "public mural" requires both the artist and a public. The Art Digest, September, 1935, prints this statement by Arthur Miller, critic for the Los Angeles Times. "They forget that public walls are not he place for the airing of personal beliefs." This is an interesting point. How much control does the public have over the muralist? The question will not be further pursued except to say that perhaps this undecidedness on the part of the public is one of the reasons why we do not have many murals around us today.

During the W.P.A. years, many "muralists " were influenced by the Mexicans. There were valiant attempts to copy from the Mexican mural school, but he imitations were only that and could not equal the originals. The brilliance and richness of color and design were lost by the neophytes in this country. When, however, a good example by Diego Rivera appeared in Rockefeller Center, it was soon chipped form the wall because of its communistic ties.

However, the mural predominates as a means of artistic expression south of our border, and for a good reason. The mural lends itself, in scale, to expressing nationalistic aims. An old expression says, "Murals are the book of the illiterate."

"The secret," says M. Beals, "is Mexico in revolution, in turmoil; tortuously discovering itself at the cost of brutality and bloodshed and thwarted ideals." And if we still must speak of Rivera as "the Giotto of Mexican painting," it should be with cognizance of the fact that "he has broken the Byzantine tradition which in Mexico is French - not the French of Manet and Degas, but of Corot and Rousseau; the seventeenth century poesistos, the court shin-diggers, the painters of flowers and fish for the dining rooms." After roaming Europe for fourteen years, Rivera, as the writer we have been quoting pungently phrases it, "came back to Mexico and found himself with a bang . . . .He is planting his feet in the tracks of the pyramid builders." He belongs to a land whose beginnings are lost in plumes of mystery' whose gods are more ancient than Cortez." Here "the first course moves through men more intimately than through the modern slaves of the machine." Rivera is Mexico.  (23)

With the exhibiting of Diego Rivera's work in the Museum of Modern Art in 1931, the artistic concepts of the nation as a whole were caught up by his statement: "Indian art is the classical art of this country, the true basis of the American tradition." This had an influence on the American painters who, with their unprepared foundation, began to build along a "pseudo-Rivera" line. Thus ensued the question: what is American art?

 We are receiving a lot of unasked-for advice and criticisms these days. Some tell us to be Indians, others to be Mexicans, and still others ask us to look to the various amateur artists of the last few centuries, who are being brought forward as our "ancestors." We are not and never have been a primitive people. We are all transplanted Europeans with centuries of European culture behind us somewhere . . .
Thomas Donnelly   

Without a doubt some of the most successful attempts to create a synthesis of painting and architecture, appear in international exhibitions and fairs. Certainly the greatest single mural of the century is Picasso's "Guernica" in the Spanish Pavilion at the Paris Exposition of 1917. None is more timely in execution and theme. At the same time it is a concentration on space, form, volume and value )the Guernica is developed in tones of gray). Our own Century of Progress Exposition of Chicago (1933), the New York World's Fair and the Golden Gate Centennial (1939-40), allowed the public further insight into the problem of relating art to architecture. Some exaggerations caused the murals to devour the architecture, but others were quite successful. William de Kooning's mural on the curved façade of the Pharmacy Hall at the New York World's Fair was one such example. We have come to expect the incorporation of murals with architecture at such expositions. While some architects of these buildings are only interested in showy effects, others actually wish to integrate the two in order to show the public how exciting a mutual statement can be between artist and architect.

The question is, then, if the public accepts such a combination under these conditions, why does it fail to incite similar appreciation in other public buildings, or in private homes? There are many reasons, four of which are paramount.

Private incomes are seldom commensurate with the cost of mural paintings, nor do private homes generally allow sufficient unbroken wall space for mural work. We must also consider the fact that good muralists are in the minority, if for no other reason than a lack of demand for their services. But above all, the appeal of wall-size painting in exposition buildings, lies in the very fact that their grandeur of size is necessary for the grandeur of their subject matter. A hall of history or "Concourse to the Future: seems well suited to house themes dedicated to past heroics or future conquests: it is a place set apart for the business of commemoration or exciting our hopes for the future.

If the present day architect persists in creating designs which emphasize structure and function as an end in themselves, his architecture will cease to be art, and he will be replaced by the engineer.

Through development of new materials and engineering techniques, the architect has produced a more flexible and open structure. Architecture has lost its weight. The living area is pushed out beyond the construction of walls, to join the natural world. The architect is conscious of nature's rich natural forms and plays them against the geometrical construction of his building.

Great walls of glass and steel have presented the muralist with competition. The picture window has replaced the picture, or at least dissolved a large section of potential mural space. However, the muralist finds his surface in the form of curtain walls or area dividers. When he paints on these, he does not have to worry about going too far and destroying the structure referred to by Mies Van der Rohe as "skin and bone construction."  (25) on such constructions, the muralist may proceed with ease. He should also remember to gauge correctly the effect produced between the real and illusionistic space. If he desires to destroy structural qualities he may, and in so doing give emphasis to the architect's intention.

This is impossible for the easel painter who does not need to concern himself with additional space (one in which he stands and moves about). His spatial interests lie only within the limits of a two-dimensional canvas. One cannot stress the point too often, that easel painting cannot be blown-up into mural painting. The muralist must think in terms, both painterly and architecturally, of space, mass, volume, proportion, color and structure.

More than likely, if a synthesis of the arts is evolved )painting and architecture in particular), it will be reached though the channels of the mural painter. Unlike the architect, who has been trained in the rational and structural, the painter has been trained in the emotional and aesthetic. If a synthesis does evolve it will be from emotional needs, not rational or structural. Again, with emphasis, a synthesis begins within the person- the problem lies in how to educate artists, architects and, above all, the public. The designers must be capable of producing a synthesis which is so honest, so convincing and so unalterably attractive that the public will be forever dissatisfied with the jumbled, patched, mismated, halfhearted efforts they were suckled on.

Painters have brought about a great revolution. They have arrived at non-objective painting. They have discovered new elements which henceforth will determine the problems of future architecture.
Malevitch  (26)

The future certainly cries out for the collaboration of the three major art forms - architecture, painting, sculpture.
Fenand Leger 

Architecture, sculpture and painting - the march of time and events unquestionable leads them toward a synthesis.
Le Corbusier  

The fragmentation will be slowly replaced by integration. "either or" must be replaced by "both together".
Wassily Kandinsky  

Contacts between planner and artist are as important for future development as air conditioning.
Sigfried Giedion  


Now it is much easier to forward the most difficult scientific theory than the simplest of new artistic means. The education of the individual is today directed toward intellectual specialization. In contrast to this, the education of the emotion is neglected. At any rate, its level does not correspond to the level of knowledge which is to be mastered. Thinking is trained; feeling is left untrained.

Mentally trained people are capable today of following the most difficult scientific research, but the same people are lost when they are faced with new artistic means which force them to an enlargement of their inner natures. So we arrive at the curious paradox that in our period feeling has become more difficult than thinking.  
Sigfried Giedion 


to table of contents








The most significant changes in style have been characterized by a new conception and application of space. Each generation of painters searches for a new pictorial space definition. I have searched and after three years of experimenting I believe I have created such a space concept. The pictorial space definition upon which I base my "synthesis" is composed of ten interrelated functions (listed in order of their development, not importance):

01. Dissolution of the rectangle as a form of painterly and visual reference. Dismissal of the frame.
02. Acceptance of "multi-edged and angled forms," possessing a definitive, constructed movement.
03. Development of mutually complimentary, constructed and painted movements.
04. Liberation of painting from the architectural wall - both visually and physically.
05. Incorporation of the real with the illusionistic space.
06. The integration of man in a new, participating role: the articulator of a painterly defined space and a  transferor of actions.
07.  An architectonic scale incorporated into a statement.
08. A synthesis combining painting and sculpture in an architectural scale. (Purpose: to produce an  environment which evokes an aesthetically, emotional experience.)
09. Employment of sound and illumination as integral parts of the general statement.
10. A synthesis combining painting, sculpture and architecture in a self-enclosed, permanent volume.  (Proposed but not yet executed)   *

* Referencing back from the year 2001:   It was at this point that the Fulbright Scholarship was awarded as a result of the following experiments. Function 10 was fulfilled in Rome, Italy within two years of the writing of this thesis. See accompanying Plates 30 - 33.




Investigation One

Fall 1958


During a class in "the History of Western art," two words caught my attention - sublime repose. The two were used in describing the placement of a figure on the pediment of the Parthenon. This phrase remains long after the title of the text has failed me; two words which guided my investigations from the start. One could not fail to notice that the description was most exact. Phidias had placed a form, in the shape of a figure, in a very limited, triangular area, the lower angle of the pediment. This was executed in such a skilled and refined manner that the figure, even in relief, appeared un-compressed. This inspired me to begin the first of my experiments.

I considered what effect changing the accepted rectangular frame of reference would have upon the development of the painted composition. I made many sketches of variously proportioned rectangles. Within each, I divided the space into four or five irregular-inter-locking shapes; the majority having pointed extremities of some type of triangulation. Of these, I selected the one I found most interesting and constructed it in the same manner as the sketch. Starting with a rectangular framework, I lined in with wooden strips the four basic patterns and cut the outer rectangular edge where the inner member touched it.



Divided rectangle for separate but related compositions



From the beginning the composition was developed both in and out of its primary rectangular arrangement. This was to insure that each section would be able to stand by itself as a developed composition. However, the rectangular arrangement of the group was considered of primary importance and in relation to this shape, direct carry-overs among the component parts were produced by painting both linear movement and color harmonies. In forming the rectangular outline, the sections, though interlocking were separated at varying distances form each other; thus revealing the surface or the wall on which they hung. It is interesting to note here that the wall which was visible acted in a close relationship to the painted shapes by creating movements of its own. This produced a unifying effect between painting and the expanse of the wall. When the distances between the painted segments were increased and all were rearranged to produce a more open and irregular pattern, then the entire wall plane seemed to be integrated with the painting (wall size approximately 12 ft. x 30 ft.) while the sections existed in a semi-isolated arrangement they, as shapes, became more directive. Because of their angular construction, they possessed an initial directive power form their inception. This ability falls under the terms of "constructed movement," which is defined in Chapter I. I learned that this constructed movement could be emphasized by painted movement sometimes applied parallel to the forms' edges. These movements might consist of lines within the composition, the space between the segments which revealed the wall surface or, as were most often successful, painted bands of color, not only parallel, but tangent to the edge. The idea of creating accents parallel to the structural limits of the composition became one of the most important factors in the next experiment.




Investigation Two

Winter 1958





While developing the last scheme and the three following, I employed the medium and materials in which I feel most confident - oil on canvas  (1)  the first scheme was successful in destroying the rectangular and in interrelating triangular shapes to each other and to the wall. The next step was to free the painting from the wall, both visually and physically.  The physical separation was easily accomplished by setting up two intersecting planes. Visual freedom, however, was more difficult to realize. For an object to stand apart form its surroundings, the artist must create as many contrasts as possible, beginning with basic forms, so again I worked with the triangular shape. This time they were all triangular except for one freely-suspended section. A triangular construction will easily stand out form its architectural surrounding because the environment, composed of standardized parts, is made up of 90° angles.

All elements in architecture are composed of vertical and horizontal movements, i.e., steel mullion and glass, door frames, doors, cabinets, bricks, lights, etc. the problem in composition here is to relate the enclosure to the painting while at the same time retaining the distinctive individuality of the canvas. The triangular-intersecting plane, regardless of what is developed upon its surface in paint, is the most powerful statement isolating it form the surroundings; but within the structure as well as the body of the painterly movements to bind the shape to its surroundings in a satisfactory way. Note the vertical and horizontal emphasis at the central opening of the largest triangular plane. Study this carefully and you will see related movements which visually connect, though separated by construction, one end of the large panel to the next. The second most important aspect of this work is that it must be considered as eight compositions which, when related, form a unity of expression. Again the question: how to maintain variety without destroying harmony? I must say it is not a simple task. The third, and conceivably the most important, point is the relation to man. Man now has to travel around the painting in order to see it. His reference form has been removed. He must remember the various movements of he individual sides in order to form a general conception of the overall movement. He must think in terms of a painted, constructed volume.




Investigation Three

Spring 1959




Now that this new synthesis of sculpture and painting had been taken from the supporting plane of the wall, and had become a plastic statement of spatial articulation, then the next step was to concentrate upon the area between canvas and wall. This was done by constructing a group of interrelated forms and arranging them on the plane of the floor. This was simply an extension of the first experiment where I worked with planes of various thickness. Their correlation with the spatial importance of the wall in Experiment I now shifted to the horizontal plane of the floor, and in this space, man is at last able to move, sensing quite clearly the inner-relationship of all elements. Important changes have taken place here:

1. The observer is allowed to move not only around, but in and out of the space intervals between the forms. In the "free-standing" intersecting planes, he moved in and around space areas parallel and perpendicular to the painting. Here, he moves through the painting.
2. The forms in themselves are more complex, and a reduction I surface handling is in order. There is reshuffling and repainting of these forms. And constant simplification is the key, for one must find and create as many harmonious interrelationships as possible. Volumes may be placed in an infinite number of relationship by just moving the forms. But the overall design must exhibit its separate parts no matter what their orientation is. 

The first experiment showed how the expanses of the wall were incorporated more directly by varying and extending the distances between the canvasses: the same was true for the space between floor, ceiling and wall when the volumes were more isolated from each other. One or more persons could pass between and through the interlocking space, thereby heightening the importance of the spectator. His position was one of seeing, feeling and moving as a part of a total unity. The forms were conceived with the same plan used for the intersecting planes insofar as they possessed both physical dimensions and painterly movements, which were in opposition to the right angle constructions of the architecture. In Plates 16A and 16B
, the grouping of the forms is tight. The space between the forms is compressed.

Perhaps a brief study of the compositional arrangement of both constructed and painted movements will reveal to the reader how involved the problem is in relating complex forms with integrated decoration. You notice I use the term "integrated", not "applied".

( PLATE 16A )  Here we have the primary group plan, seen from the front (used here only as a point of reference). There is neither front nor back, nor side in the ordinary sense. The general contour produced is a truncated polygon. The central element is placed in the composition as a gem is held by its setting. The constructed edges repeat, and intersect, the forms to intensify this interaction in space.

Tension is created by contrasts in stability in Plate16A. The two end forms, though static, create a spatial tension when balanced on a small area of contact. This in turn produces an effect on the painterly development of forms. The forms of each unit are individually conceived as masses supported by a linear form so thin as to seem inadequate to bear the weight above them. Therefore, in the illusion, there is a structural ambiguity, a combination of static balance with dynamic equilibrium. The two inner forms are solidly anchored to the ground plane because their mass is distributed over a greater area of contact with the ground. The culminating statement of this investigation, taking into account the horizontal plane, the volume of the room, and the position of the spectator, was arrived at in the exhibition at Morehead.



Investigation Four

The Culmination of Research - The Studio Thesis

Summer 1960

( In a hot tobacco warehouse Wilson, North Carolina )


18A 18B 19A 19B   20A  20B  21A 
21B 21C 21D  22A 22B  23A   23B 
24  25 26A  26B 27  28   29 



Investigation Five

Post Thesis - Fulbright


 PLATE 30    PLATE 31  PLATE 32


Elements of the previous experiments have been assembled and embodied in this latest statement of the synthesis. The designing of this particular environmental forming began by construction in scale, a model of the existing gallery. By using a scale model of the room and constructing all elements (planes and figures) in accordance with the scale, I was able to clearly visualize the spatial articulation of the room by the canvases. The existing space was divided into five compartments (each developed by a flexible treatment of inner and outer space). The main divisions were produced by a "free-standing" curved screen, an intersecting plane construction and a perimentrical canvas, which stood in front of the surrounding walls at various distances.  (2)  This canvas extended around the outer limits of the room for a distance of 243 feet and ranged in height from four to fourteen feet. The peripheral canvas replaced the wall; providing a painterly surface as a point of reference from which all interior structures and designs were developed. This is in opposition to the earlier examples in which the painting was in some way affected by the architectural handling of the space, i.e., patterns formed by the verticals and horizontals of such materials as glass, steel, and bricks, etc. I was now able, not only to control the wall patterns but to arrange them in any sculptural or painterly manner that I chose.


Arrangement of Panels for the Morehead Gallery


Instead of existing by itself in an indirect relationship to the reference plane it can become a physical, painted projections of the reference plane - which is itself a constructed, painted movement ( Experiment Four ).

The form of the "free-standing projection" is emphasized more. The underlying sculputerseque values are not hidden by a complex-developed surface design (refer to Experiment II) . the curvilinear movement of the Moorhead "free-standing projection is more complex, it is directly related to the concave-convex curvings of the parametrical canvas. The physical movement of the "free-standing structure" in continuing and articulating interior space, is more important than the surface design when viewed against a painted ground. The entire structural complex is designed by interplay of concave-convex curves to produce rapid movement, in and out, up and down. These movements are continued and climaxed with the solid placement of the projected "free-standing sculpture."

Unlike the principles connected with viewing easel painting, where the observer is fixed and where his gaze is focused on the center of the painting . . . or unlike the observer, who moves about a "free-standing" painting completely ignoring the outer surroundings; the observer, when placed in the; Moorhead Gallery, walks in and around a painted environment. Sculptural, painted surfaces completely engulf him. By means of his mobility and power to detect painterly inter-relation, he transfers painted movement along the curved lines form one canvas to the next; thus revealing the new importance of the observer within the world of the painting. The person was given new meaning in his relation to an architecturally constructed painted. My concern has not been that of an architect but as a painter who searches out a complete synthesis.

The exhibit represents a "rebellion" not against former techniques of abstract painting but against the way in which it is displayed and the relationship which it evokes between the viewer and the painting.

Painting no longer has to be considered as an accent or decoration to be added to architecture. I have sought to establish a closer connection between the three arts by combining sculpture and painting in an architectural scale. The canvas articulates the room space in a continuous form and movement. The constructed movements are heightened by the painterly movements. The viewer's eye cannot see it all at one moment. Space and time have been incorporated as a compositional motif. The viewer is drawn by the movement of the painting to flow with it about the room and is in turn engulfed by it; a complete reversal of the usual relationship between viewer and painting. In order to increase this effect, the forms and the painting which compose them have been carefully proportioned to the height of an average man and the span of the human eye. It is impossible for the viewer to see any part of the exhibit without movement of both his eyes and body. The individual paintings which compose the final statement have not titles. The overall exhibit has no theme or purpose other than to create an environment to evoke some aesthetic experience. All of my experimental sketches have been created with the purpose of putting the observer in a new relation to painting. My paintings are something to feel, both physically and spiritually, to enjoy and to experience emotionally.

If asked where I stand in regard to the history of Spatial Organization in Architecture: Its Relationship to Painting / Sculpture, I could only say "I stand at the end of Experiment Four and the beginning of Experiment Five." (3)



To be youthful and full of health is to have the power to produce much, but years of experience are needed to produce well. Tomorrow belongs to nobody.
Le Corbusier   








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01. Giedion, Sigfried. Space, Time and Architecture. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956. p.33.
02. Huemer, Frances. Conversation, April 14, 1961.
03. Giedion, op.cit., p.36.
04. Encyclopedia of World Art. Vol. II, London: McGraw-Hill Publishing Company Limited, 1960. p. 595.
05. Ibid., p. 597.
06. The same circular design is used at the bottom left, in the background of the fireplace wall and in the circular balistrade.
07. Tietze, E.-Conrat. Mantegna. (New York: Phaidon Publishing, Inc., 1955,) p. 17.
08. Hartt, Frederick. "Raphael and Giulio Romano." Art Bulletin, June, 1944, p.73.
09. Friedlaender, Walter. Mannerism and Anti-Mannerism in Italian Painting. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957,) p.17.
10. Goldsheider, Ludwig. Michelangelo (London: Phaidon Press), p.5.
11. Quadri riportate: framed easel pictures transferred to the ceiling and incorporated in a quadrature framework.
12. Friedlaender, op. cit., p.15.
13. Quadratura: Illusionist architectural painting aimed at extending real architecture into an imaginary space.
14. Wittkower, Rudolf. Art and Architecture in Italy (Maryland: Penguin Books, 1958), p. 37.
15. "Illusionist architectural painting (quadratura), aimed at extending real architecture into an imaginary space, had existed ever since Peruzzi had 'opened up' the Sala delle Colonne in the Villa Farnesiana about 1516, but it was not until the second half of the sixteenth century that quadratura on ceilings really came into its own." Ibid., p. 165.
16. Ibid., p. 220.
17. "Exuberant Rococo Art in Germany - a Celestial Celebration," Life Magazine.
18. Wittkower, op. cit., p.243.
19. Summerson, John. Architecture in Britain - 1530 to 1830. (Maryland: Penguin Books, 1954.



01. Delacroix's commissions in 1835 and 1855: the Palais Bourbon, The Chamber of Deputies, the Library of Luxemburg, Galleries in the Louvre, Hotelde Ville. Puvis de Chavanne: Hotel de Ville (1874), Panteon (1874). Ingres: Hotel de Ville (1853).
02. Sloane, Joseph C. French Painting Between the Past and the Present, (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1951), p. 134.
03. Ibid., p. 137.
04. Giedion, Sigreied, Space, Time and Architecture - The Growth of a New Tradition. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956), p. 224.
05. "Revue Generale d'Architecture," 1867, p.6.
06. Art Nouveau, Museum of Modern Art, (New York: doubleday and Co., Inc.), p.55.
07. Ibid., p.8.
08. de Stijl, Cat. 81, Stedlijk Museum, Amsterdam, 1951, p.93.
09. Examples: Georges Vantongerloo; "Volume-construction," plaster, (1918); Mondrian; paintings of 1916, 1918, etc; Theo Van Doesburg and C. van Easteren; scheme for a villa in 1923; Walter Gropius's Bauhaus, (1926).
10. For further study of abstract painting related to architecture see: J.J. Oud's "Café de Unie" in Rotterdam, 1925; Weissenjog Sledlung, Stuttgart, 1927, Directio Gehouwtje, 1923 and Woonwijk Kiefhoff, 1925. Richard Neutra's numerous residences in California. Walter Gropius's professor's homes and the main Bauhaus building, 1926; his own home in Lincoln, Mass., 1938.
11. Swenny, James Johnson. Theo van Doesbrug (New York: High Grade Press, 1947), p.1.
12. Barr, Alfred H., Jr. "de Stijl," The Museum of Modern Art Bulletin, 1952-53, p.11.
13. Damaz, Paul, Art in European Architecture (New Youk: Reinhold Publising Corporation, 1956), p.31.
14. This will be taken up later.
15 Barr, Alfred H., Jr., Matisse - His Art and His Public (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1951), pp. 220-221.
16. Ibid., pp. 241, 242.
17. Interesting to note that he based his studies for the crucifix on Matthias Grunewald's figure of Christ in the Isenheim altarpiece.
18. Le Corbusier, The Chapel at Ronchamp (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Inc,1957), p. 25.
19. "Each man in Corbu's drafting room has a list of two columns of ten numbers, each, pinned up on the wall next to his table. According to Corbu, these ten pairs of numbers are all that is required for the use of the modular scale in practice. The two systems of fenestration shown here demonstrate the great flexibility of the scale: the slot windows at Ronchamp make a tense, abstract pattern of light and shade, oddly in balance despite the great variety of openings. (other reference is to the Convent de la Tourette.) Architectural Forum (New York: Time, Inc., April, 1961), p. 101.
20. The Unesco Courier (Paris: The United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization, Nov., 1958), p. 3.
21. Ibid.
22. Possibly the most successful result in this field of joint or collaborative expression is the Church of the Sacred Heart at Audincourt, France - finished in 1951. The architect, Novarina, collaborated most closely with the artist, Leger. However, it is possible to have the greatest artists of a century come together and yet produce nothing more than an appendage to the architecture. It is sadly true of the Church of Our Lady of Grace, in Assy, France (1950). Some of the artists assembled included: Roualt, Bonnard, Leger, Lurcat, Braque, Lipchita and Matisse. Because the individual artists involved worked separate at their assignments, it is almost impossible to concentrate jupon the church as a whole: it stands as an assemblage of isolated parts.
23. New York Times, "An Artist Sees Mexico" by Edward Alden Jewell, "In the Realm of Art: Rivera - Museum of Modern Art." Dec. 17, 1931, p.124.     
24. Editorials, Ibid.
25. Giedion, Sigfried. Space, Time and Architecture, the Growth of a New Tradition, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956), p. 544.
26. Damaz, Paul, Art in European Architecture (New York: Reinhold Publishing Corporation, 1956), p.37.
27. Ibid., p.52.
28. Ibid.
29. Giedion, Sigfried, Walter Gropius (New York: Reinhold Publishing Corporation, 1954), p.39.
30. Giedion, Space, Time and Architecture, p. 505.
31. Ibid., p. 762.





01. Within the next two years I plan to use plastics, but in the formative stages, I think it is important to use familiar materials. 
02. The existing architecture, except as a shelter, played no part in articulating the "free-standing painting." My work took on new meaning as an architectonic entity in its own right.
03. Future projects are entered on page v. They will be constructed in plastics and conceived as both an interior and exterior composition. They will become architectural, exist in the elements and derive part of their source of life and illumination from the world about. Characteristic movements of both constructed and painted composition are to be found, moreover, in the music of Schonberg, Bartok,  Nikolais and Varese. Ideally, a musician should be employed to work with the  painter in order to develop a musical composition for the environment.
04. Papadake, Stamo, Le Corbusier - Architect, Painter, Writer (New York: Macmillan Co., 1948), p. 140.


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Ancona, Paolo d'. The Farnesina Frescoes at Rome. Milan: Edizioni del Millone, 1955.

Audsley, William James. Polychromatic Decoration as Applied to Building in the Mediaeval Styles. London: H. Sotheran & Co., 1882.

Baroni, Costantin. Bramante. Bergamo: Istituto Italiano d'Arti Grafiche.

Barr, Alfred H., Jr. Cubism and Abstract Art. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1936.

Barr, Alfred H., Jr. Matisse, His Art and His Public. New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1951.

Berenson, Bernard. The Italian Painters of the Renaissance. New York: Phaidon Publishers, Inc., 1952.

Bitterman, Eleanor. Art in Modern Architecture. New York: Rainhold Publishing Corp., 1952.

Blashfield, Edwin Howland. Mural Painting in America. New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1913.

Damaz, Paul. Art in European Architecture. New York: Reinhold Publishing Corp., 1956.

Feibusch, Hans. Mural Painting. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1947.

Fleming, William. Arts and Ideas. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1955.

Fokker, T. H. Roman Baroque Art. London: Oxford University Press, 1938.

Friedlaender, Walter. Mannerism and Anti-Mannerism. New York: Columbia University Press, 1957.

Giedion, Siegfried. A Decade of New Architecture.

Giedion, Siegfried. Space, Time and Architecture. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956.

Giedion, Siegfried. Walter Gropius - Work and Teamwork. New York: Reinhold Publishing Corp., 1954.

Goldscheider, Ludwig. Michelangelo. London: The Phaidon Press, 1953.

Goldwater, Robert J. and Marco Treves. Artists on Art. New York: Pantheon Books, Inc., 1945.

Grabar, Andre. Byzantine Painting. Translated by Stuart Gilbert. Geneva: Skira, 1953.

Gusman, Pierre. Murals of Pompeii. London: B.T.Batsford, Ltd., 1925.

Hitchcock, Henry-Russell. Architecture: Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1958.

Hitchcock, Henry-Russell. Painting Toward Architecture. New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1948.

Hitchcock, Henry-Russell, Jr. Modern Architecture - Romanticism and Reintegration. New York: Payson &Clarke, Ltd., 1929.

Klassiker der Kunst. Giotto. Stuttgart, Berlin and Leipzig: Deutsche Uerlags, 1925.

Madsen, Stephan Tschudi. Soruces of Art Nouveau. New York: George Wittenborn
Publishers, 1955.

Le Corbusier, The Chapel at Ronchamp. New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Inc., 1957.

Nordmark, Olle. Fresco Painting: Modern Methods and Techniques for Painting in Fresco and Secco. New York: American Artist Groups, Inc., 1947.

Ozenfant. Foundation of Modern Art. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1952.

Papadaki, Stamo. Le Corbusier - Architect - Painter - Writer. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1948.

Reed, Alma M. The Mexican Muralist. New York: Grown Publisher, Inc. 1960.

Robb, David M. The Harper History of Painting. New York: Harper and Brother, 1951.

Schmeckebier, Laurence. A Handbook of Italian Renaissance Painting. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1938.

Sela, Peter and Mildred Constantine. Art Nouveau. New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1959.

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