86
PARTISAN REVIEW
tionalist architects of the nineteen-twenties. No, but once architecture was
an art which united all the plastic arts as a symphony orchestra unites
the various instruments. And today the architect should again become
the conductor. Architecture can only hope to recover its primacy among
the arts when it gathers its sister arts once again into such an orchestra.
"And just as I feel there are regular cycles of culture (one of which
is at present in the process of opening) so I feel that there are regular
cycles of art. There have always been definite centers of these cycles, now
in Greece, now in Italy, now in Spain, now in France; often many
centers were active at once.
. "Where can such a centre develop? A friend of mine, a Spanish
poet, Juan Larrea, last year wrote an inspired book,
Rendicion del
Espiritu,
in which he brought forward an unimaginable wealth of argu–
ments to prove that the centre of the future was to be in the New World.
Others believe it will be Russia. I do not know. For me the centre is
still France and I believe it will remain France for some time to come.
Before the war I was very skeptical because of a sort of national narcis–
sism which was current there. But hardships and sufferings have since
purified the French attitude and have brought back the true spirit. I
believe in France. It has always been remarkable in this. Cycles in
ot..~er
countries have been short-lived. In France the current cycle has lasted
unbroken since the twelfth century. And what is most striking is that
so many of the greatest leaders of the French School have been foreigners,
from Pol de Limbourg, down to Jongkind, Sisley, Pissarro and Van Gogh
and some of the greatest figures of twentieth century Paris.
"But the flame that burns in any center is of a delicate nature.
Today I am still afraid of nationalism in art. Xenophobia quickly be–
comes fatal. It carries a particular threat to the health of art here
in
the
United States. It is important that your countrymen should take this to
heart. This was the disease that was menacing French art before the
war and threatened to kill the flame which had survived in that center
for over eight hundred years.
"And speaking of foreigners who have made their contribution to
French art, I learned only yesterday of the death of Chaim Soutine. I
would like to pay homage to this great man. He was one of the rare
examples in our day of a painter who could make his pigments breathe
light. It
is
something which cannot be learned or acquired. It is a gift of
God. There was a quality in his painting that one has not seen for genera–
tions-this power to translate life into paint-paint into life. And this man
was a victim of the Nazis-one of the great geniuses of the period.
"His work at first glance seems anarchic, chaotic; but nothing could
be further from the truth. At heart he was a dedicated traditionalist of
the purest vein. One day I recall meeting him on the Pont des Arts. He
had a roll of paper under his arm. We Barely exchanged greetings when
he asked me excitedly, "Do you want to see the thing I like most in
