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About Maurice Ascalon
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Right: Maurice Ascalon's "The Toiler of the Soil, the Laborer and the Scholar", hammered copper relief sculpture, completed in 1939. The 14 foot high relief adorned the facade of Architect Ari El-Hanini's Jewish Palestine Pavilion of the 1939 New York World's Fair. For a period, following the Fair, the sculpture adorned the facade of the College of Jewish Studies library in Chicago. It was removed prior to the building's demolition and is now part of the collection of the Spertus Museum in Chicago.
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Maurice Ascalon was born Moshe Klein in eastern Hungary in 1913. From an early age, he was determined to pursue his artistic yearnings, however in order to do so, he was forced to abandon his ultra-religious Chasidic Jewish routes – for artistic expression was frowned upon in the eastern Hungarian “Shtetl” in which he was raised. When he was 15 years old Ascalon left his family and boyhood home to study art at the Academy des Beaux Arts in Brussels. He took with him, though, an in-depth understanding for the rituals and traditions of the Jewish ceremonies, which knowledge he would later apply to his artistic endeavors.
In 1934, after concluding his formal artistic training in Brussels and later Milan, Ascalon immigrated to Israel (then Palestine). There he met his wife-to-be, Ziporah Kartujinsky, a Polish-born Jew, granddaughter to the distinguished cartographer and scientist of the same surname. (Ziporah, who died in 1982, became a sculptor in her own rite late in her life, creating magnificent bas reliefs depicting the Shtetl life of her childhood).
In 1939, Maurice Ascalon designed and created the enormous 14 foot tall hammered copper relief sculpture of three figures, "The Toiler of the Soil, the Laborer and the Scholar", which adorned the façade of the Jewish Palestine Pavilion of the 1939 New York World's Fair. Ascalon was commissioned to create this work by the noted Israeli architect, Arie El-Hanani, who designed the historically significant Pavilion which introduced the world to the concept of a modern Jewish state.
In the mid-1930's, Maurice (then with the last name "Klein") founded, with his brother-in-law, the company Klein-Komm, which created a variety of decorative craft items in wood and metal. Most of the Klein-Komm items incorporated labor intensive hand-hammered metalwork, and were thus produced in relatively small numbers.
In the late 1930s, Ascalon founded Pal Bell Co. Ltd., a decorative arts manufacturing company which produced trademark bronze and brass menorahs and other liturgical and secular decorative arts items that were exported in large numbers worldwide. Ascalon's Pal Bell designs, some art deco, others more traditional, introduced the use of "green patina" (verdigris) to Israeli metalwork, which is now a hallmark of Israel's crafts industry. During Israel's War for Independence in 1948, Ascalon designed munitions for the Israeli Army and retrofitted the Pal Bell factory to produce munitions for the war effort. In the 1956 Ascalon immigrated to the United States. It was shortly before he relocated to the U.S. that he parted with his former surname “Klein”, and adopted the name “Ascalon”, after the ancient biblical city.
During the 1950s and 1960s, Ascalon resided in New York and Los Angeles. He gained a reputation as a master silversmith, creating the ceremonial objects of Judaica he first learned of in his youth. For a time, he served as a professor of sculpture on the fine arts faculty of the University of Judaism in Los Angeles.
In the late 1970s, Ascalon co-founded Ascalon Studios. Ascalon Studios, located in the Philadelphia suburbs of New Jersey, became (and still is today, under the direction of Maurice’s son, David Ascalon) a multifaceted art studio dedicated to the creation of monumental sculpture and art for the adornment of worship and public spaces. In February of 2003, Maurice Ascalon celebrated his 90th birthday as a resident of Cuernavaca, Mexico, where he resided for the past several years with his other son Adir Ascalon, an abstract painter and sculptor known for his collaborations with the Mexican artist Siqueiros. In May of 2003 Adir died suddenly after suffering a massive stroke. Two months later, in August of 2003, Maurice passed away, after a long, fruitful life, from complications related to Parkinson's Disease, an illness he endured during most of the final decade of his life. Ascalon was also survived by a daughter, Sarah Ascalon Benjamin, a painter who resides in New York.
Maurice Ascalon’s commissions include permanent installations at synagogues and public spaces throughout the United States and Mexico. His works have been exhibited at and are among the collections of institutions including the Jewish Museum in New York, the Museum of American Jewish History in Philadelphia, the Spertus Museum in Chicago, and the University of Judaism in Los Angeles, where Ascalon taught.
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Eulogy for Saba
Thoughts & Reflections on Maurice Ascalon
35 East 35th Street, Apartment 8H. Between Park and Madison. This was Saba & Sapta’s home through my youth. This one-bedroom in Murray Hill featured a galley kitchen so narrow, that you practically had to hold your breath to fit inside. This was not so much an apartment, though, but the world’s smallest museum. As a kid I looked forward to visiting Sabta and Saba’s place. It was so fascinating. Upon entering, there was the most unique, distinct, comforting scent – which my olfactory still remembers so vividly, and yet I do not believe I have ever experienced it elsewhere. It was a perfect cross between Chicken Soup and modeling clay. From the galley kitchen to the east came the aroma of Sapta’s wonderful chicken soup. And from the bedroom to the west, which doubled as Saba’s art studio, came the slightly volatile aroma of Plastiline modeling clay. He was always creating something with those hands of his. Those hands connected to such a fascinating, wondrous mind – always creating, inventing, innovating. In the bedroom art studio, surrounding a very inconsequential bed, lay scores of odd little tools – most for shaping clay, atop a homemade work bench. There were also several small bench top machines – for engraving, cutting moulds, and who knows what. And then there were the small, intricate samples everywhere. Artistic experiments in wax and clay. Boxes and boxes full of them. Pieces and parts of projects never finished. To a filmmaker, this is what you would call “the cutting room floor”. To me, these “outtakes” were more fascinating than the finished works of art. As a young boy of 8 or 9, I would sit upon the high stark metal stool at the workbench, buzzed from the ever-present volatiles in the air, play with the tools, pretending that I was an artist.
Then there was the living room. The living room with walls filled with the family’s artwork. Sapta’s remarkable relief sculptures depicting her childhood upbringing in Poland were suspended from cables on the wall. There were Adir’s paintings, including an erie, ominous self-portrait that to this day still haunts my memories. And, of course, Saba’s sculptures and metalwork all around. Wonderful pieces. Works of genius. The south wall of the living room featured no artwork. But it was my favorite. The south wall was an enormous bay of casement windows. Outside was New York. In my youth, I would glance at the rooftops across the way (rooftops are so inspiring). I would glance into un-shaded windows of unsuspecting families sitting for dinner, men watching TV, and sometimes couples frolicking. But I was young, and what really interested me was not the couples frolicking, but the view to the southwest. To the southwest I would tilt my head up and the most extraordinary site would be mine: the Empire State Building, right there in front of me. A couple of blocks away, yes, but it looked so close, I could touch it. At night, its alabaster and stainless steel glowed. When the Yankees won the World Series, the tower was a column of blue and white light. Approaching the fourth of July, it was oft red, white and blue. This was truly inspirational. Such an inspirational apartment. I loved my visits to Saba and Sapta’s house. What kid wouldn’t. Then, 21 years ago, Sapta passed – such a warm, loving woman. I cannot imagine how much Saba missed her. Visits to Saba’s apartment were thereafter characterized by the scent of Plastiline. The chicken soup was missing.
And now Saba too has left us. All who knew him well are imagining him now sitting at a dining room table, up in heaven with Sapta and Adir. They are in the same Murray Hill apartment, which has been transported, piece by piece, into heaven. Saba and Adir are in impassioned conversation over something or another – over some newfangled invention or idea one of them has, perhaps. In heaven, they need not worry about money, so they are no longer starving artists, but just artists. Saba no longer requires a walker, and no longer trembles or drools. He is strong once again. And the scent of chicken soup is in the air once again. The doorbell rings – you know the type – those black-button self-contained non-electric timid doorbells, “ding-dong”, that you see in the center of pre-war apartment doors – the ones that feature built-in peek holes. Since this is heaven, no need to check the peek hole. Instinctively, Saba goes to unlock the two double bolts and chain on the door – but this is heaven, the doors are never locked. Saba opens the door. It is Picasso. He has come for some of Sapta’s chicken soup and to discuss a new artistic collaboration. It seems the Pearly Gates are getting a bid dated, and the Lord would like some mosaic murals put up to spruce up the place. And so they get to work.
I will forever miss that hybrid Hungarian, Israeli accent. The many many conversations over fascinating idea, inventions, battles with windmills, the jokes (like any good grandson, I would laugh even if they were not funny), and stories of the past with differing degrees of reliability. Not many people realize it, but Saba invented the disposable razor. The story goes that he brought his visionary idea for a disposable razor to a patent attorney in Manhattan. After revealing the idea to the patent attorney, the attorney laughed him out of the office admonishing him for wasting his time with such a ridiculous idea. It is said that the attorney’s name was a “Mr. BIC-man”. And the rest is history.
Saba’s inventive mind was always at work. But his ideas often chimed in just a little too late. Such as with the case of his revolutionary new token holder – It was to make life for commuters just a tad more convenient. Unfortunately, by the time the ink on the patent had dried, all the great transit systems were in the process of forgoing the token in favor of the Metro Card.
Though there were a few stumbles, Saba’s was a life of such success. As a young man in his twenties, he created the historically significant “Toiler of the Soil, the Laborer and the Scholar”, a truly monumental 14 foot high copper relief sculpture – which he painstakingly hand-hammered himself – and that adorned the façade of the Jewish-Palestine Pavilion of the 1939 New York World’s Fair. This Pavilion introduced the world to the concept of a modern Jewish state, and it was his artwork that served to welcome the world to the exhibit. So proud was he of this great sculpture, and with good cause. Today it serves as a sort of “code of arms” for our family, and logo of our family business.
As a young man, Saba also founded a company, Pal-Bell, that indeed did revolutionize the Israeli Judaica and metal crafts industry. Beginning in the late 1930’s, his Pal-Bell factory, which employed as many as 100 workers, created magnificent menorahs, shabat candlesticks, collectable plates and other decorative art pieces and crafts for export around the world. Today, the high quality and artistry of his Pal-Bell designs are viewed by collectors as the standard for collectable Israeli Judaica and metalwork. Saba was a man of quality and nothing but.
Saba played his part in Israel’s struggle for independence from the Arabs by inventing munitions that would be used by the Israeli defense forces. When his adopted country of Israel needed him, in 1948 he retrofitted his Pal-Bell factory to manufacture munitions for the war effort.
Saba, stricken with Parkinson’s Disease in his 80’s, was intent upon defeating it. And so with such a conviction, into his late 80s he continued to sculpt. Though he could not walk without a walker, though he could not steadily put fork to mouth, his hands were oh so steady when he put them to clay. He put them to clay with such conviction.
Saba was never a man who remembered birthdays, and I did not fault him for this. He operated on a different level. His gift to us was not some fleeting present, but rather his gift was and is the Ascalon legacy. A rich history of art and culture. Of ideas. Of convictions. A legacy that he has passed to my father, who is improving upon it and expanding upon it that it may be passed to me and my brothers, that I may continue to expand upon it, and pass it to my children. I can only hope to do with it a mere fraction of where Saba has taken it.
Saba’s 90 years on earth were so very fruitful and productive. Certainly not in the financial sense – for all great artists leave this world with less dollars than they entered with. But they were so very fruitful and productive in creating our legacy.
Saba was, of course, the elder Ascalon. We have with us, my Zaiden, the youngest Ascalon. In the final weeks of his life, on Saba’s return from Mexico, he first met Zaiden and Zaxlee. To see them, to play with them, put such a smile on Saba’s face. Such joy to his eyes. In his pain of late, it was perhaps the only thing that brought him joy. I knew that he was so very comforted to know that the legacy of his life’s work would be passed on to those marvelous creatures before him. Thank you Saba for your love and for the legacy you have created. I vow to do your memory honor by building upon this great foundation, and passing it on.
-Presented by Eric Ascalon on August 5, 2003 at Cherry Hill, New Jersey
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MAURICE ASCALON – SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
“Modern Creations from an Ancient Land” by Prof. Nurith Kenaan-Kedar, Eretz Israel Museum/Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel (2006).
“Five Centuries of Hanukkah Lamps from The Jewish Museum” by Susan L. Braunstein, The Jewish Museum (2005).
“New Jersey Artist Honored Posthumously in Tel Aviv” New Jersey Jewish News, December 15, 2005 at 50.
“Luminous Art: Hanukkah Menorahs of the Jewish Museum” by Susan L. Braunstein, The Jewish Museum, Yale University Press (2004).
“Inside, Outside, Sculpture Shows Pieces of His Soul”, by Jan Hefler, The Philadelphia Inquirer, October 31, 2004.
“Famous Jews Who Died Last Year” Jewish Telegraphic Agency, January 2, 2004.
“Maurice Ascalon, 90, Famed Sculptor and Art Designer” The Jewish Exponent, August 21, 2003 at 42.
“In the Frame” by Gil Goldfine, The Jerusalem Post, August 15, 2003 at B14.
“Sculptor Maurice Ascalon Dies” by Barbara Rothschild, The Courier Post, August 7, 2003 at B1.
“M. Ascalon Maker of Judaic Art”, The Philadelphia Inquirer, August 5, 2003.
“The Sourcebook of Architectural and Interior Art 18”, Published 2003 by Guild LLC, Madison, Wisconsin, Page 176.
“Local Sculptor Works to Defeat Parkinson’s Disease”, by Harriet Kessler, The Jewish Community Voice, December 1, 1999 at 1.
“Ascalon Studios”, By Goldie Wachsman, Jewish Journal, April 7, 1989.
“The Family Ascalon”, By Peggy Morgan, Inside Magazine, Summer 1987 at Page 41.
“Challenging Crusade”, By Steve Lipman, Jewish Week, Vol. 199, No. 17, September 5, 1986 at Page 2.
“Continuing a Family Tradition”, The NATA Journal, October 1985 at Page 6.
“Father, Two Sons Share Eye for Beauty”, By Sherry Wolkoff, The Jewish Community Voice, February 1, 1984 at Page 3.
“Synagogue Beauty Enhanced by Talented Ascalon Trio”, The Jewish Post & Opinion, Wednesday, November 3, 1983.
SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM ART INVENTORIES CATALOGUE:
Call Numbers: PA001671, PA001366, NY000754, 74780001, 747800003, 747800004, 74700005
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