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Lot Essay
In his essay on the new Coventry Cathedral, Lewis Mumford (Out of the Ashes, London, 1962), the distinguished American critic described the building as 'essentially a magnificent box (say rather a jewelled casket), but there are two architectural features beside the ruin that give it distinction - the round chapels on each side of the building... In both conception and execution the new cathedral has effected a union between feeling and form, between the traditional and the rational, between pious memories and modern prospects. Its originality consists in its indifference to originality, and in its respect not for the letter of modernism but for the spirit that giveth life... the fusion of continuity and creativity that Spence has accomplished here strikes a note that vibrates longer and with deeper resonance than many other works of modern architecture. In the structure itself, in its siting, in its chaste omissions and in its generous permissions, it has a completeness and an organic richness that are more vital than formal perfection'.
In 1958 Sir Basil Spence, the architect of the new cathedral, telephoned Elisabeth Frink and asked her to produce a sculpture of an eagle for the lectern at Coventry Cathedral, then under construction; beginning a process which involved many meetings, ideas and sketch studies for the eagle. Other commissions came separately and later on, they included the bishop's mitre above the throne, and the symbol of the Holy Spirit in the form of a flame over the provost's stall. For the young Frink 'the most exciting thing was the thought of working for the cathedral with all these other artists'. She later described the final piece, cast in bronze with a gold patina and with a four-foot wing-span, as 'One of my best'. Stephen Gardiner comments that the eagle is 'a wonderful achievement, embodying in the imagery both speed and the lightness of flight, capturing the heroic in nature. Where before she had been expressing the 'bird' as a fighter, as an aggressor, its wide apart, savage stance ready to make the kill, or as the victim of aggression, here at the cathedral was a true eagle, a magical picture of power which has a really startling presence; here was a conception of sheer daring, the strength of a single statement, its immense size displaying a clear recognition of the vast space in which the work is located. She had no failure of nerve when faced with such a challenge, which would have been perfectly understandable in the circumstances; there was not the slightest hint of indecision, a conviction which marked her out as a creator of real stature. After all, here was a twenty-eight-year-old invited to make a sculpture in the company of works by artists twice her age or more; among them, there was Sutherland's huge green tapestry of Christ, Piper's brilliant red and purple baptistry windows carried out Patrick Reyntiens, notable designs in stained glass by Lawrence Lee, Keith New and Geoffrey Clarke (who was also responsible for the Crown of Thorns above the choir), and Epstein's beautiful door handles, modelled from babies' heads. Yet her Eagle, so powerful that it transformed the lectern into a object of true magnificence, was a match for any of them, having the sense of scale which Epstein's St. Michael and the Devil has to such an extraordinary extent outside'.
(see S. Gardiner, op. cit., pp. 82, 111-12).
One of the five casts of Eagle was purchased by the Washington State Department for President John Kennedy's Memorial in Dallas, Texas in 1964.
In 1958 Sir Basil Spence, the architect of the new cathedral, telephoned Elisabeth Frink and asked her to produce a sculpture of an eagle for the lectern at Coventry Cathedral, then under construction; beginning a process which involved many meetings, ideas and sketch studies for the eagle. Other commissions came separately and later on, they included the bishop's mitre above the throne, and the symbol of the Holy Spirit in the form of a flame over the provost's stall. For the young Frink 'the most exciting thing was the thought of working for the cathedral with all these other artists'. She later described the final piece, cast in bronze with a gold patina and with a four-foot wing-span, as 'One of my best'. Stephen Gardiner comments that the eagle is 'a wonderful achievement, embodying in the imagery both speed and the lightness of flight, capturing the heroic in nature. Where before she had been expressing the 'bird' as a fighter, as an aggressor, its wide apart, savage stance ready to make the kill, or as the victim of aggression, here at the cathedral was a true eagle, a magical picture of power which has a really startling presence; here was a conception of sheer daring, the strength of a single statement, its immense size displaying a clear recognition of the vast space in which the work is located. She had no failure of nerve when faced with such a challenge, which would have been perfectly understandable in the circumstances; there was not the slightest hint of indecision, a conviction which marked her out as a creator of real stature. After all, here was a twenty-eight-year-old invited to make a sculpture in the company of works by artists twice her age or more; among them, there was Sutherland's huge green tapestry of Christ, Piper's brilliant red and purple baptistry windows carried out Patrick Reyntiens, notable designs in stained glass by Lawrence Lee, Keith New and Geoffrey Clarke (who was also responsible for the Crown of Thorns above the choir), and Epstein's beautiful door handles, modelled from babies' heads. Yet her Eagle, so powerful that it transformed the lectern into a object of true magnificence, was a match for any of them, having the sense of scale which Epstein's St. Michael and the Devil has to such an extraordinary extent outside'.
(see S. Gardiner, op. cit., pp. 82, 111-12).
One of the five casts of Eagle was purchased by the Washington State Department for President John Kennedy's Memorial in Dallas, Texas in 1964.