Fake or no fake, Rodin exhibit worth seeing
Standing before a Rodin that Rodin himself never laid eyes on
ELYSSA STELMAN STAFF
I came to the exhibit full of questions: namely, were the sculptures on display works by Rodin or were they, as one American printmaker/gallery owner declared, fakes? But what I came to understand during my visit was that the question of fake or not fake was irrelevant. This was not a question of whether the WAG was passing off Rodin copies to an unsuspecting public for the sake of making a quick buck. The issue at hand was really to do with a man who manoeuvred the destiny of his work, and the stamp of his name along with it, much like he moulded a form in clay. In so doing, Rodin brought into question the very nature of art.
From the beginning of his career, Rodin struck heads with the establishment. One early work, entitled the “Age of Bronze,” elicited praise and censure simultaneously. The statue, of a young defeated soldier, was so lifelike, so perfectly proportioned that Rodin was accused of surmoulage, or taking a mould directly off the body. He was eventually cleared of the accusations, but this episode seems to prefigure the pattern of opposition and debate that characterized his career.
Of the 60 sculptures on display at the WAG, over 50 were cast after Rodin’s death in 1917. He himself orchestrated this ongoing line of production. When the Société des Gens de Lettres rejected his statue of Honoré du Balzac (1799-1850), that they had commissioned, Rodin was offended and stated that the work would not be cast until after his death.
In 1916, Rodin donated and bestowed the rights of his work to the French government and they, in exchange, built him a museum. This ensured that the works would not only survive posterity, but also generate enough income to manage the museum. Generally, when a sculptor dies his plaster moulds are destroyed. It is unclear whether the Rodin museum destroys the moulds after a specific number of bronze casts are produced, or if the supply is endless.
Rodin is, as artist Christopher Pratt (also on display at the WAG) alleged, the Andy Warhol of his time. Rodin marketed himself well. He made his work available in an array of sizes to suit collectors’ desires. Like Warhol, he was the master-director of his personal factory. Rodin would piece together figures like parts on a production line. Often he began with a series of torsos and fabricated an excess of hands and feet to match. Frequently, it wasn’t Rodin at all but one of his many assistants completing the work. But, sculpture has always held a long tradition of assistants and craftspeople because the medium itself is so physical.
It is Rodin’s insistence that the work be cast even after his death that particularly recalls Warhol’s treatise on art. Rodin strips the work of the “hand of the artist,” of any association with an elite art. Through means of mechanical reproduction, the work becomes “accessible” and helps to cement his name in the history books.
Standing before a Rodin that Rodin himself never laid eyes on, I wonder about some of the implications. Is there a loss of what Walter Benjamin termed “aura” (its unique presence in time and space)? The work before me is tangible, not misleading like the reproductions of images in books. Rodin never physically cast the bronze, so what does it mater that he was not around to witness the final product, if he gave his consent? What differences does a specific bronze foundry or a new craftsperson bring to a work? Is it possible that a certain craftsperson might bring a higher or lesser level of technique to the finished work?
So the question of fake or not fake is irrelevant in that Rodin created his own rules in everything. The only thing that I can say definitively is that I cannot think of any definitive thing to say — except that I particularly enjoyed the “Burghers of Calais” and would return to see them again — fakes or not.
Rodin: a Magnificent Obsession can be seen at the Winnipeg Art Gallery until January 1, 2007.

