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Show iyJlr u Mt m 1 yyifji I Mil IE I Some Highlights in the Life of John Hafen, Founder of the Exhibit By EVA MAESER CRANDALL Long ago these mountains of the west called to the lofty peaks of the Alps. "Send us a portion of that spirit of Beauty you constantly catch from the skies." So Switzerland, from her gorgeous gor-geous crest, threw the burnished burnish-ed gold of her sunset, the shimmering shim-mering silver of her moonlight, and the glory of her star dust into the crystal waters at her feet. A knight came, and he filled a sacred cup of beauty from these lakes of inspiration. He took his sacred charge; and with it he traversed the mountains of aspiration, the sea of discouragement dis-couragement and the barren plains of poverty. At the end of his journey he poured the nectar nec-tar from the cup into the pools, springs, lakes, meadows, groves, forests and on the mountain top of this western land and to Springville he gave the cup. John Hafen was born in Can-Ion Can-Ion Thurgin Switzerland, March 22, 1856. His father, a landscape garden, cr; his mother, the daughter of an artist. Early in life he manifested his gift for art; it is said he would draw from memory portraits of his playmates and teachers. j When he was six years of age, his parents left their homeland home-land for the new world. There were 7 in the family: father, mother, three girls and two boys. The spiritual force which impelled im-pelled the parents to leave their home, travel forty-five days on the sea and three months on the plains with ox teams, burying one of their daughters at Winter Quarters, enduring all the hardships hard-ships of early pioneer life, no doubt made a lasting impression on the mind of the boy artist. They arrived in Salt Lake City April, 1862, and camped on what j was known as the old Eighth ward square where the city and county building now stands. Here they met friends who persuaded them to go to Payson. They lived in a little log room, immaculately im-maculately clean, dainty cheesecloth cheese-cloth curtains at the windows, with ever blooming flowers and every foot of ground under cultivation. cul-tivation. Here the mother spun flax, made thread and sold it, and the family gleaned wheat. One year they gathered seventy-five bushels of wheat, and that year it sold for seven dollars per bushel. A banner year for the Hafens. The family was compelled to move from place to place due to the fact there were no opportunities oppor-tunities for the kind of work to which they were accustomed. They wanted to get into Salt Lake, but it looked as though There mht be - 'an opening ,ir smaller towns. They went from Payson to Richfield, to Tooele, and finally into Salt Lake in 1868. Here John attended school. Karl G. Maeser was the teacher teach-er and of him Hafen made from memory, his first life , size oil painting. . .. It was in the Twelfth ward where his romance began. Little Thora Tweedie with her "sparkling "spark-ling beauty" caught the love dream of the artist. All the re-J re-J maining 'years '.of 'their lives I they dreamed and worked to-1 to-1 gcther. They were married June 26, 1879. No better picture of their life could be painted than the letters John Hafen wrote to his wife. No letters of Browning could breathe of a more beautiful spiritual spir-itual love than John Hafcn's letters to his wife. The family grew in numbers. Ten children were born to them, and even in all their poverty each time a little child came they felt the g&tes of heaven ( Continued on Following Page ) Some Highlights in the Life of John Hafen, Founder of the Exhibit have traveled the way of the noble knight, but we have seen only the highest peaks, and many of them have escaped our view in our hurried flight, for the deepest caverns and the rugged detours were entirely hidden. But Our noble knight has left his cup That from its nectar we may sup The beauty in this western clime And picture that which is divine. And other knights are coming here And pouring in their nectar clear Until its waters, bubbling up. Have made a fountain from that cup. (Continued from Preceding Page) had been opened to them. John JfalVn would say, "Oh you little blessing." While building the Salt Lake ten i pie the church sent John Jlaien, John Fairbanks and others oth-ers to Paris to study art for the purpose of decorating the interior inter-ior of the temple. Thry came back to Springville for the third time. They could not find a house to rent so they camped by the Crandall spring and that winter moved into the Crandall home. The following spring they bought a piece of ground and paid for it with a pi ft ure. The picture now hangs in the second ward chapel. Hafon loved Springville; he loved these mountains, springs and meadows; they called to him wilb the voice of beauty. Oh, how that family worked to get a home -a home after all the moving from place to place. The plans were drawn. Ware and Traganza were the architects. Mr. Traganzft said, "This will be a home where I can let art predominate." pre-dominate." Tile J Life ii Home. The silhouette or a dream I love to think of it when the Hafen children played 'round its door. Tonight in that same home the radio is playing soft music in harmony with my thoughts like an echo of bygone days. I see the hollyhocks on the wall a mural decoration in that dream home. There are sketches now on that , same wall, a stream running through a canyon, a boat on the, edge of a lake like the house ; just a pencil sketch of what only the artist saw in his dream. things of life.- A masterpiece of art is a spiritual achievement and must be paid for with the coin of endurance. I am reminded of an incident which I think illustrates the sacrifices sac-rifices Mr. Hafen had to make. The last evening he spent in Utah was in our home in Salt Lake. There he said, "I could paint for money. I could paint pictures that would sell, but I wond rather give my life than sacrifice the art which God has given me." While in Indiana he had been unable to get any money to send home for Christmas. He sent a card. Drawn on the card were pictures of toys, candles and everything that expressed a jolly Xmas and underneath was written, writ-ten, "Life is just one damn thing after another." It was a quotation so foreign to John Hafen, but we could all see the twinkle in his eye as he mailed the card. But what a story it told. Hope, work, struggle, disappointment and then the mastery of self treat it as a joke. When the first keen pangs of disappointment disappoint-ment were over, I think he must have said or at least felt, "Well, God's in his heaven. All's right with the world." One disappointment after another an-other came. He had an abundance abun-dance of pictures, but no one would buy. In the depths of his poverty he wrote to a friend of means asking him to buy a picture. pic-ture. The answer came, "I cannot can-not afford luxuries." John Hafen thought, "Are beautiful paintings only luxuries?" He wrote again to his friend. This time he made an appeal for art. He said, "If necessities are all one needs, why put spires and' towers on our churches; why put beautiful doors and windows in our civic buildings; why beautiful furniture in our homes, if the plain necessities neces-sities will do just as well ? Why did God plant flowers on the hillside, why beautify our own gardens with, flowers that live only for their beauty?" He showed what an essential part culture had played in the development of mankind. He said, "It was the kind of culture that led Napoleon the III under the direction of Hasessmoan to make Paris the most beautiful city of light, the incomparable city by the Siene toward which people all over the world turn to as a mecca of artistic delight." Then he referred to the spiritual side, "De can do more by setting in motion these forces which prepare us individually for the accomplishment of God's designs than by pointing the prophetic finger. I refer you to the beautiful beau-tiful cities and temples that the saints of God are to . build. Apply Ap-ply all the enlightenment and culture of this time, and borrow the attainment's of ancient. Gree?- Hafen gave to us so much; and he had so little in return, unfinished walls, adorned only by the beauty of hfs brush, bare floors, meagre furniture, only the absolute necessities. But in that home was unbounded unbound-ed love and glorious dreams. The harmony of heart strings to laugh and cry in unison with a spirituality which only God can give. Christmas time in the Ilafen home. Weeks before, the mother of the family began to lay her plans, and on Christmas morning the star of peace sent its' rays into the heart of all who came within its open door. The fireplace, the picture of the . Christ-child drawn on the back of an old oilcloth, framed with the bits of our own mountain moun-tain holly, the rough beams covered cov-ered with box wood from Hobble Creek canyon. The Christmas tree was made from the castaway boughs from trees of neighbors who only had to pay fifty cents for a tree. The decorations were made from ' popcorn, filled with joyous joy-ous anticipation of the tiny little poppers, the gilded cones from God's own trees embellished with the glitter of earth dreams. Did I say they had so little in return ? Hafen's life is like one of his pictures, the longer you look at it the more beautiful it becomes. How typical of his life are his pictures. One artist said of his paintings, "They just grow on one. As you gaze, the mists rise and they seem to waken and breathe." The fine arts journal says, "In Hafen's paintings there is that charm of the unknown, the vague, mysterious, i intangible quality which awes one to silence rather than the ecstatic exclamations. There is a spirit of joyousness, never gloom and despair. His pictures are dreams tranferred to canvas, which is more than art, than talent or genius; it is inspiration." I found the background for this in Hafen's journal. He wrote in substance, "When I came to Paris on, my mission I had the technique of art all outlined. The fundamentals were all in my mind, but that greater quality was a something higher than technique. Only the inspiration of my heavenly Father can supply it." To his wife he wrote, "With your prayers and the prayers of my friends I hope to accomplish accom-plish that which God has given me." . We here in Springville loved Johnny Hafen (as he was called), his gentleness, genius and spirituality. spirit-uality. We always remember his cheerfulness, that twinkle of appreciation ap-preciation in his eye. You know those who live above us in the world of art are not often, blessed with the tangible and Rome in the bargain, and you cannot build a city sufficiently suffici-ently beautiful to be a fit dwelling dwell-ing for the King of Kings." The man bought a picture and said, "I never thought of art in that light before." Yes, we loved John Hafen here in Springville; but that feeling is not confined to us alone. For many months he lived in Brown county, Indiana. The place was a mecca for artists. The little cottage on the hill where John Hafen and his son Virgil, lived, was surrounded with flowers called queen's laci. Here artists came, and they had happy times together. They called the place Cheerful-Hill. After leaving there, here in Utah J. Will Knight gave a reception in his home for Hafen; and at that time he presented pre-sented the B. Y. U. Hafen's painting of the old Sycamore Tree. His friends in Brown county, learning of this, wrote him. The letter .was on the hotel stationery. station-ery. In the center was a large circle, outside of it were the names of the people, inside the circle was written, ''Beloved Comrade Com-rade and friend, we the circumscribed, circum-scribed, being assembled in Peaceful Valley and having learned of your recent success, do joyfully take this means of conveying to you our heartfelt congratulations. We grasp your hand and write in the hope that your present success is but an augury of more to come. "He lived in a house by the side of the road, and he was a friend to man." Peaceful Valley May 16, 1909 It was in Brown county that Dr. Heatherington, a man of means and influence, took Hafen from an attic room and fitted up a studio and let him pay in pictures. When the Hafen family reached reach-ed Indiana, Mr. Heatherington found a lovely home. This, too, he had prepared. . It was to be furnished. Beautiful upholstered chairs, rugs, dining room suite, were all ordered from the furniture fur-niture store. Marshel Field was to buy pictures as fast as Hafen could paint. Was Hafen's dream come true ? No, the lovely furniture fur-niture was never unpacked. Days of watching, working and praying pray-ing that the dread pneumonia would loose its grip on the loved artist and father followed; but it was too strong for the frail man; so God intervened. Dazed, the family began preparations prep-arations for their journey back to Utah. Dr. Heatherington took them to his home. Torn with grief, he too, could not understand under-stand why. In Utah everywhere were exclamations, ex-clamations, "Hafen is dead!" But such as he never die. He only took another journey to see more beauty. , In the airships or our mind we |