Sunday I made my first visit to the Metropolitan Museum's recently opened New American Wing Galleries for Paintings, Sculpture and Decorative Arts. My friend, Carole, and I focused on the Galleries of 18th-,19th- and early 20th-Century American Art, together with important examples of American sculpture. Though Carole and I viewed some of the paintings, our emphasis was on the sculpture.
The sculpture that brought me to tears was "Lincoln Standing" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, a sculptor who first saw Lincoln when he, the sculptor, was a young boy. It was 1860 and the image Saint-Gaudens remembered was that of Lincoln standing in a carriage about to speak to a waiting crowd.
In "Lincoln Standing," Lincoln's head is bowed; he seems to be looking inward; one hand grips the lapel of his coat; the other he holds behind his back. A chair of state, decorated on the back with an American eagle, wings spread, stands behind Lincoln. We know he is President of the United States, states he is intent upon keeping "united."
In this sculpture, Lincoln has risen from his chair but he hasn't begun to speak. He is listening inwardly for the words that will inform, engage and open his listeners to what he has to say. His audience is ready. (People in the 1860s listened to politicians for hours. It was entertainment. And Lincoln had a reputation as an extraordinary speaker/story teller.)
While so many representations of great leaders seek to impress through stature and/or posture, this one is small in size. It is the image of a thought-"full" man, a compassionate man, one whose heart and mind were in perfect alignment. (Lincoln didn't try to convince; he invited mutual participation in developing consciousness, to guide and shape perception and action. He shared his thinking, the result of ongoing process, as distinct from "thoughts," the result of process.) I felt myself invited to listen and I said, "Yes!"
