Published as an introduction to the catalogue for a US Information Agency-sponsored traveling exhibit of the work of Mauricio Lasansky and his students, coordinated by the Albright Art Gallery of Buffalo, New York. After a preliminary opening in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the exhibit was shown throughout Latin America for an extended period.

In 1958, Mauricio Lasansky's print España received the Posada Award in the first biennial Inter-American Exhibition of Painting and Prints in Mexico. The print serves well as the window through which we may view the larger body of his work. There is evoked here the sum of what he feels and believes, and . . . his way of working and his attitudes toward that work.

We think immediately of Goya, and Lasansky would not object. The plate for España was done after the return from his only stay in Spain—made possible by a Guggenheim Fellowship (his third) for the year of 1953. But there lay behind Lasansky also 13 years in North America, most of them spent not in the artistic melting-pot of New York City but in the heart of the Middle West. The orientation and subject matter of his art have remained what they were in the beginning—those of a Latin American, mature in the Spanish cultural traditions of Argentina. Yet his imagery, and mastery of the means of recording it, have come to fruition in Iowa.

Would the outcome have been the same in his native environment? Lasansky thinks not. He would be the first to acknowledge the depths of his roots in Latin culture. But he believes that it has been particularly possible, at the State University of Iowa, to achieve certain goals of which he dreamed in his early years. In that free air, his own art has flourished without denial of its origins, and he has been able to transmit his values and beliefs to his students with such effort that he has been a mjor influence upon the younger generation of printmakers throughout the entire continent.

The son of a printer who had come to Argentina from Lithuania, Mauricio Lasansky was born in Buenos Aires in 1914. His early interests were in drawing, engraving, and music. Then he worked in sculpture, earning First Mention in the Mutualidad Fine Arts Exhibit in Buenos Aires when he was 16, and a Third Prize in the same exhibition the following year. He began his formal art training at 19, studying simultaneously in three media: painting, sculpture, and engraving. His first professional work was done two years later in 1935, as a painter, with Luis Barragán, whose sister, Emilia, he later married. That same year he received his first award for engraving in the Mutualidad exhibition—for the best work in that medium. From then on, Lasansky's interest focused on printmaking, and mainly on the methods of intaglio.

Regardless of the medium, Lasansky's main preoccupation has always been the human figure, which, through significant gesture, carries and communicates the artist's emotional responses to what are for Lasansky some of the important events of life: conception, birth, love, play, death.

Within this broad range he makes excursions into varying degrees of abstraction, and one cannot dismiss such pieces as El Cid, Sol y Luna, and Time In Space as mere side-trips. These compositions remain a sort of figure art though they are not strictly portrayals of the human body. The abstract images are never rigid nor geometric, nor is there lost the emotionally provacative line—fluid, calligraphic—a record, if not a description, of a human gesture.

Variety of expression has been typical of Lasansky's work from the beginning. He believes that inspiration may be derived from any source whatsoever. He has no frozen "style"; each subject has its own characteristic mode of expression. This is evident in the early works. Changos, with its direct, primitive mood and comic overtones, is expressed in two-dimensional terms with almost unrelieved use of short strokes of the burin. More complex states of mind, and with them the sophistication and refinement of dry-point techniques, are explored in the romantic Autoretrato of 1942 and again in the Baroque image of La Rosa y el Espejo.

Thought he ventured freely into the various human situations of the culture in which he grew up—both that of the country people and the complex Latin-Romantic culture of the Argentine cities—it is, fundamentally, with Garcia Lorca and Goya that Lasansky makes common cause. This is not in the spirit of imitation, but rather because he finds in their works corroboration of his own strong reactions to the basic experiences of human life. Theirs is an art of humanity and one of strong social conscience. But always the human event is shown in terms of the inner, personal reactions of the individual. This does not imply a withdrawal from contemporary external events. The print Dachau is Lasansky's statement of the horror of man's inhumanity to man, as is the Guernica that of Picasso. But as with Picasso, the image itself, though provoked by a specific event, refers far beyond day by day politics to a more universal truth about relations among men.

Such statements often (in Bodas de Sangre, Firebird, and Sagitarrius) take a form like those of Goya's, of composite dream imagery. Elsewhere they assume the shapes of certain figure studies of Picasso; these served Lasansky as a vehicle for his own personal statement in the monumental series, For An Eye An Eye, he was not quite finished with it; there remained in him the further statement of El Pájaro.

Dealing as they do with the values of the spirit, such pieces as Pieta and Near East have been called religious works. Certainly they are—in their evocation of feelings apart from the immediate, materialistic pursuits of living. But it is a religiosity free from the restrictions of any specific ritual or dogma.

The intensity of feeling arises out of human relationships. In Nacimiento en Cardiel, birth in a family links man to an experience higher than that of himself, and the event partakes of the qualities of a nativity. If reference to religious subjects conveys these states of emotion, Lasansky uses it. But it is the spirit of man in his humanness that evokes reverence, and this has its origins with the individual.

The great number of portraits in Lasansky's work reflects this feeling. Believing in the individual, he depicts those he understands best — his children, his wife, himself. In the latest works, the life-size portraits of his daughter, Jimena, and himself (where we are reminded of the great isolated figures painted by Velasquez), it is not the mere size of the figure which becomes monumental; it is the spirit of the person portrayed. Even so, these works are statements about humanity rather than personal anecdotes. Lasansky says, "The portrait holds for me as significant a place in the scheme of things as do my major social themes. I regard them as a source from which evolve the social themes . . . they are images which reflect my thoughts about the particular person and my thoughts about life in a larger scope."

It is to the larger scope that the print España relates. While a personal vision, its concern is with the higher aspirations of men as social beings and their destiny as a group.

Lasansky's work is plainly in the tradition of Latin America and those aspects of its culture which have their roots in Spain. We see this in the imagery which combines the intense, personal, inner dream with the great themes of man's struggles in his relations to other men; in the Romantic and Baroque complexities of the Italo-Spanish personality; in the concern with the deep, close life of the family; and in the values, above all else, of the spirit. Thus Lasansky's art, though transplanted, has fulfilled the implications present in its beginnings.

Lasansky came to the United States from Argentina with a mature imagery and with technical mastery, even virtuosity, in the difficult technique of dry-point. The winner of eighteen first prizes in his native country, he had been appointed Director of the Free Fine Arts School at Villa Maria Córdoba in 1936 at the age of 22, and Director of the Taller Manualidades at Córdoba in 1939. At 21 he had his first one-man show, and the following year his work was shown at the Art Institute of Chicago; the next year he was awarded a prize for the best engraving at the Municipal Exhibit of Plastic Arts in San Francisco. He was well known on both continents when he came to the U.S.A. as a Guggenheim Fellow in 1943.

His first year there was spent in New York at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, studying literally thousands of prints by contemporary and older masters. It must be remembered (in Lasansky's lifetime it has become a matter of past history) that until very recently printmaking, with certain exceptions, had fallen into a low status among the arts. A limited number of techniques were used chiefly as a means of reproducing works originally created in other media. It was necessary to go back to the work of the printmakers of the 16th and 17th centuries to experience the possibilities of working with the copper plate itself.

Lasansky found what he was looking for in the work of Mantegna, Finiguerra, and other masters of the Renaissance: effects peculiar to the results of line engraving, done directly on the plate with the burin. More recent sources of inspiration were the dry-point engravings of Picasso, who had begun to create not on the passive surface of paper, but on the responsive surface of the plate. For Lasansky, the discovery of these endorsements of his own goals provided the impetus he needed.

The following year he began to work in Atelier 17, the workshop of Stanley William Hayter. Hayter had been largely responsible for the rediscovery of many of the techniques utilized in intaglio, including the use of the burin, which had been forgotten in the recent decline of printmaking. In that shop, Lasansky turned to the burin, producing the powerful Self Portrait of 1945 and at the same time experimenting in lithography with equally exciting effect—which resulted in El Cid, one of the few pieces of Lasansky's work which is not true in effect to the direct application of methods native to its medium. Though executed in the process of lithography, El Cid is a monument to Lasansky's personal relationship to the techniques of intaglio. He thinks in terms of the line inscribed into the surface of the plate; his visual ideas manifest themselves in terms of that carved sculptural surface, not the smooth oily track of the lithograph crayon.

Much of Lasansky's work is in the tradition of social comment that had been established for print media. But more and more—deriving inspiration from El Greco, Modigliani, Miro, and Rouault—he has extended his references to areas of experience that in the last century were usually the exclusive domain of painting and sculpture.

Meanwhile, he was also stimulated by direct contact with Chagall, Lipschitz, Rattner, and Matta. He began to explore the possibilities of combined techniques in intaglio. From that time on his work has been marked by the exploitation of each process for its own effect. This can be seen in the detail of Epaña the deep, short, strong line of the burin; the rich, subtle base of various soft-ground textures; and the judicious use of dry-point, with its free, variable, expressive line. His way of working leads to varying visual results. But the form is always the direct outcome of the use of tools and techniques proper to the creation of the image directly upon the plate.

It is the positive response of the plate to the creative gesture of the artist which ties Lasansky so deeply to the processes of intaglio. There, every stroke of the graver's tool meets an equality of resistance from the plate. This imposes great restrictions and disciplines upon the artist, forcing him to consider his own actions and to understand their results in terms of the desired effect upon his plate. It is a process which demands great maturity of behavior.

And Lasansky speaks of "a deep love for the metal plate." The concept of the dynamic, creative equilibrium of active and passive forces is one of the terms by which he lives his life. It is expressed symbolically in For An Eye An Eye. The major part of Lasansky's work expresses this particular relationship to the situations of living and reveals the synthesis of techniques and skills with which he gives form to his reactions.

He has made of his images a truly monumental art form, as important as painting and sculpture. As with them, the form of the image is inseparable from the technique involved in its realization and, also, from a certain relationship to life which enables the artist to use these means to full advantage.

Lasansky has functioned in another role of significance—that of the teacher. In 1945 he was appointed Visiting Lecturer to create a Graphic Arts program at the State University of Iowa. He moved himself and his growing family to Iowa City. There he has remained, in the dual role of creating artist and teacher, having become a citizen of the U.S.A. in 1952.

He sees the Graphic Arts program as continuing the tradition of the Renaissance workshop. Certainly the same activities are carried on, revived and revitalized in the work of today with printmaking in its role as a major art as it was during the Renaissance.

The method of teaching is also that of the Renaissance. The students (or they can be called apprentices—for these people are proud to be known as craftsmen) work in a professional environment, in direct contact with the artist-teacher as he produces his own work. From the beginning they experience the demands of professional problems and they are exposed to the methods of a mature artist who functions, while teaching, as a creative person. The teacher is not merely a visitor who appears to criticize and then withdraws to guard the secrets of his own creativity in private.

There are, moreover, certain advantages in an art school in the midst of a great university that did not obtain during the 16th century and are still not to be found in the independent, isolated professional school. There is available to Lasansky's students the entire range of disciplines and resources of the other liberal arts. They learn and live in an atmosphere wherein the pursuit of other humanistic activities is as important as the pursuit of their own.

The philosophy of teaching at the State University of Iowa is avowedly that of the Renaissance rather than that of the Romantics. It is held that the critical and creative powers of the artist are mutually sustaining, not mortal enemies. Students are encouraged to pursue as many of the disciplines of the other liberal arts as they wish, as part of broad programs of individual reading and research. The resources of the entire university are put at their disposal, in the hope that they will acquire skills of craftsmanship and criticism, as well as the stimulation of subject matter introduced in other areas of study. Habits of thought and working, it is believed, will be transferred from the area in which they are learned to other spheres of activity.

The medium of intaglio is particularly suited to the attainment of these goals. Mastery here implies expression in terms of the restrictions and demands of a difficult craft. The self-discipline necessary for coherent results develops confidence in the student as a creative artist, and along with technical skill, the integrity and responsibility of the mature social being.

The teaching of art within the framework of the college and university has become a widespread and prevalent practice in the United States in the past quarter-century. There are dozens of such art departments throughout the country, and their number is increasing. In the fifteen years since he established the Graphic Arts program at the State University of Iowa, Lasansky's students have found their way into many such centers of study. Most of them function now as he does, in the role of teacher and creative artist.

The work of just such persons makes up more than half of this exhibition. Many of them have by now been working and teaching for as long as twelve years since their days of study with Lasansky, when the prints exhibited here were produced. During that time they have received honors and awards on their own, and their works are known as the products of mature artists in their own right. They have in common a seriousness of purpose, a sense of social responsibility as artists, and the discipline of fine craftsmen.

What we find so impressive about the work shown here is the fact that all of it was done during the period in which these persons were students. In every print there is unmistakable evidence of both technical ability and a maturity of expression not usually seen in student work.

To be sure, Lasansky's influence is there; a reflection of it is the large portion of work concerned with the human figure. But the range of subject matter is broad. There are, in great plenty, landscapes, cityscapes, animal subjects, and a fair number of abstractions, showing that students have been free to pursue their own proclivities. Within each category there is also great variety in the use of techniques and the expressive qualities inherent in these processes.

This variety indicates that Lasansky has not forced his students into his own patterns of feeling or working. On the contrary, he has encouraged them to use, explore, and express the findings of their own personal experience. Great tribute is deserved by the teacher who thus resists the temptations of the time-honored pedagogical easy way out, and refrains from teaching by example and exemplar.

Lasansky's teaching has home fruit. Of the 37 other printmakers whose works are shown here, 23 teach their craft professionally; 14 now hold permanent rank in art departments of liberal arts colleges and universities; 5 teach in independent art schools.

In his adopted environment, Lasansky has succeeded in two ways. He has been able to bring his art to full fruition, realizing his own potentials of technical skill and expression; and by his attitude toward his work, he exerts a strong influence upon the new generation of American printmakers on both continents.

Lasansky’s feelings about printmaking and about teaching were crystallized in a series of brief statements published in 1949. Much of their strength would be lost in any attempt at paraphrasing—so we give them here again.

"When they ask me how I teach, I can only say there is no formula. I look upon each student as an artist. I assume that he is sensitive. By sensitive I do not mean temperamental, but responsive to the passionate aspects of art."

"Freedom, backed by self-discipline, will eventually help the student to find himself in his work. If I teach anything at all, it is the sense of responsibility one must have as an artist. Students soon learn a distaste for superficial techniques and fast results."

"The copper plate is not a passive medium for reproduction purposes, but rather an active participant in determining the ultimate form of the work of art. Drawing in our studio may serve as the first inspiration for a print, but once it is transcribed to the plate, it is forgotten and the plate begins to dictate the ultimate result. The sensuous sculptural qualities of the plate must excite the touch as well as the eye. But mere excitement is not enough; complete union must take place between the artist and the plate. One must learn when to stop—just at the point of possession."

"My ambition with my students is to give each one a rationale for his work. When the students come to our workshop, they are generally unaware of how to use their emotional and intellectual experience. In addition they lack technical knowledge. The purpose, the responsibility, the integrity of the artist is obscure to them. My teaching begins with the avowal of the artist as a predestined professional. The hazards entailed in experiencing rejections from and acceptances into juried shows, the understanding of professionalism, the control of fear—all these must be contributions to their maturity early in their careers."

"Instead of frightening the student with academic strictures, I try to give him the freedom to experiment in all directions and to seek inspiration from any source whatsoever. There should especially be freedom to capitalize upon mistakes. The student finds that even if three-quarters of his plate is unsatisfactory, he may still correct and improve his work by scraping down the metal; this will develop security and a fearless experimental attitude."

"The artist must be an inventor as well as a craftsman. He will combine the experience in printmaking techniques of the last 400 years in one print—if it is necessary or desirable."

"Real freedom cannot exist without discipline. By discipline I mean all those things that are synthesized in a mature personality: understanding and love, honesty, control and order, self-criticism, and above all, the ability to face reality without fear."