WITH PENCIL, BRUSH AND CHISE1 THE LIFE OF AN ARTIST BY EMIL FUCHS HOW GOOD is MANS LIFE, THE MERE LIVING BROWNING WITH ISO ILLUSTRATIONS G. P. Putnam s Sons London Emil Pucks DEDICATION I SHOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THESE LINES, WERE I PERMITTED TO DO SO, TO THE MEMORY OF ONE OF THE GREATEST MEN OF HIS TIME. GREAT AS PRINCE, AS KING, AS DIPLOMAT, AS PATRON, AS FRIEND, AND GREAT IN THE ART OF FORGIVING. AND EVEN TODAY WHEN HIS SUN HAS SET, THE RAYS SLOWLY DISAPPEAR ING BEHIND THE MOUNTAINS STILL LEAVE AN AFTERGLOW OF THE BEAT IFUL SPRING DAY THAT HIS LIFE HAS BROUGHT INTO THIS WORLD FOREWORD 1LTHOUGH Vienna was, and still is, one of the most beautiful cities in Europe with its extensive boulevards, its monumental buildings and Imperial Parks stretching to the Danube, I always felt that the world which it represented was too narrow for me. Only my fathers solicitude for my welfare deterred me from tearing my bonds asunder, and it was not until he was summarily taken from me and I was thrown upon my own responsibilities, that there being no longer any tie strong enough to hold me at home, I started out, Destiny has carried me into many countries Germany, France, Eng land, Italy and Holland, Canada, Cuba and America. Everywhere I have worked and met interesting people, and what I have beheld has remained imprinted on my memory. The favor of the highest in the land has been bestowed upon me it was my good fortune to meet some of the most exalted. But, however great their cordiality, I have always remembered that no amount of stretching my neck would help me to become a swan, and so I have been content to be what I am. zJtiCy only pride is in the consciousness that if I have achieved at all, 1did it alone and for my failures no one can blame me more than I blame myself. EMIL FUCHS NEW YORK, October, 1924 PREFACE WAS born to other things. Writing is about the last I ever expected to attempt, but since I have sinned I shall at least try to offer my explanation. It is all simple and natural, as is any phenomenon after it has been elucidated. Last January Harvey W. Corbett, while posing for his bust, asked me to speak before the Architectural League, to help them in their publicity campaign, so that the forthcoming exhibition would yield as many as possible of the needed half-dollars which are the mainstay of its existence. The friendly suggestion from the president of such an honorable institution is a command to be executed to the best of ones ability. I therefore removed the dust from my long-hidden album and photographed its contents, to be duly thrown on the architectural screen. While I fervently longed for the moment when, after the talk, my troubles would end, I was soon compelled to admit that they had only begun. From all sides I was approached by appeals to publish my sketches and recollections. They varied from a request for a laconic statement to an encyclopedical tome. One young woman who represented a popular daily was so solicitous for my reaching the highest heaven that my excuses and protesta tions seemed to avail nothing. She even offered herself as collabo rator with that smile which can make and has unmade continents. But so wholly was I imbued with the picture of failure and ridicule that for once I remained unconquered. vm PREFACE An ill wind must have blown in my direction a little seed which began presently to germinate. I soon saw myself as one of thosefellows who, all his life having been no more than one in a large crowd, finds himself - unexpectedly precipitated to the front line with an unobstructed outlook more, I envisioned myself raised to a platform while the numberless throng breathlessly awaited the first words, ready to grasp the novice and relegate him into the oblivion whence he had emerged. This fired my rising ambition. At least, I thought, the game should be worth a trial. In such a delicate situation it is not easy to know who is the somebody to consult...