ard the sun, while the old warrior, crouching immediately
behind him, follows with his eye the direction of the arrow. Few pieces
of sculpture come readily to mind that show more happily the qualities of
bronze as distinguished from other materials. To imagine such a group
done in marble, carved wood, or Della Robbia ware is to destroy the very
image in the fancy.

The photoplay of the American Indian should in most instances be planned
as bronze in action. The tribes should not move so rapidly that the
panther-like elasticity is lost in the riding, running, and scalping. On
the other hand, the aborigines should be far from the temperateness of
marble.

Mr. Edward S. Curtis, the super-photographer, has made an Ethnological
collection of photographs of our American Indians. This work of a
life-time, a supreme art achievement, shows the native as a figure in
bronze. Mr. Curtis' photoplay, The Land of the Head Hunters (World Film
Corporation), a romance of the Indians of the North-West, abounds in
noble bronzes.

I have gone through my old territories as an art student, in the Chicago
Art Institute and the Metropolitan Museum, of late, in special
excursions, looking for sculpture, painting, and architecture that might
be the basis for the photoplays of the future.

The Bacchante of Frederick MacMonnies is in bronze in the Metropolitan
Museum and in bronze replica in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. There is
probably no work that more rejoices the hearts of the young art students
in either city. The youthful creature illustrates a most joyous leap into
the air. She is high on one foot with the other knee lifted. She holds a
bunch of grapes full-arm's length. Her baby, clutched in the other hand,
is reaching up with greedy mouth toward the fruit. The bacchante body is
glistening in the light. This is joy-in-bronze as the Sun Vow is
power-in-bronze. This special story could not be told in another medium.
I have seen in Paris a marble copy of this Bacchante. It is as though it
were done in soap. On the other hand, many of the renaissance Italian
sculptors have given us children in marble in low relief, dancing like
lilies in the wind. They could not be put into bronze.

The plot of the Action Photoplay is literally or metaphorically a chase
down the road or a hurdle-race. It might be well to consider how typical
figures for such have been put into carved material. There are two bronze
statues that have their replicas in al