Kalish made him change back into his grimy, on-the-job clothes.


“He was very annoyed” to have to go home for those old duds, said Kalish’s son, James. But Max Kalish was committed to a vision of authenticity.


For more than 25 years, until his death in 1945, Kalish, a leading early 20th-century sculptor, created hundreds of works in bronze, marble, plaster and wood. Kalish’s oeuvre most famously celebrates the beauty of manual labor.


He is perhaps best remembered for his 1929 depiction of Abraham Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address. The 12-foot bronze stands on the Cleveland Board of Education plaza in Ohio.


Much of Kalish’s work has long since been purchased by private collectors and is inaccessible to the public. But a chance encounter in Lancaster led to a Kalish retrospective at Millersville University.


Local sculptor George Mummert met James Kalish a year ago at Mulberry Art Studios. Kalish had recently moved to Lancaster and brought with him many of his father’s sculptures.


“When I saw Jim had this great collection,” Mummert said, “I thought it would be great if more people could get a chance to see it.”


The resulting exhibit is on display at the Ganser Library gallery through Friday. The exhibit is sponsored in part by Fulton Bank and Lancaster’s Keystone Art and Culture Center.


While this is the final week for the monthlong show, Mummert and James Kalish say it has the potential to draw a national audience. They hope to organize a longer show at another venue.


“It really is a documentation of history,” Mummert said. “You’re drawn into these pieces tremendously.”


Labor of love


Art flowed prolifically from the short, stocky Kalish.


“He was very intense,” said James, recalling his father at work in his studio in Long Island, N.Y. “Very strong in the arms.”


Mummert, the curator of the Millersville exhibition, researched Max Kalish’s life by reading his book, “Labor Sculpture,” and “As I Knew Him,” an unpublished work penned by his beloved wife, Alice.


Born in Poland, the artist grew up in Cleveland. His orthodox Jewish father disapproved of figurative art, so Max struck out on his own at 14.


Kalish polished his craft under renowned sculptor Isidore Konti in New York City and later studied in Paris, a city to which he returned regularly throughout his life.


He joined the U.S. Army in World War I and helped surgeons develop an early form of plastic surgery for disfigured soldiers.


“He worked with the doctor to create a new face for these guys,” James said.


One of the 21 displays at the Millersville exhibit includes photographs from those days. Another display commemorates Kalish’s work on the Living Hall of Washington, a series of castings of 1940s notables such as Franklin Roosevelt, Dwight Eisenhower, Walter Lippmann and Bob Hope.


Kalish died of cancer at 54, before he could complete the 53 Living Hall pieces commissioned by Willard Kiplinger. The artist’s genius, however, and the tumult of his time still show through.


Kalish studied anatomy so he could build his figures from the bones out, and he sketched at industrial sites so his sculptures of the workers would be accurate.


To ensure quality, Mummert said, he visited the foundries where his figures were cast.


For the Abe Lincoln project, James said, “he interviewed one of the last [living] persons” to have witnessed the president at Gettysburg. The man recalled the wind direction that day in 1863, and Kalish’s Lincoln shows a frock coat peeled back by the breeze.


“There’s a sense of movement there,” said Mummert, noting that many of Kalish’s figures also reflect a strong classical influence.


Subjects on display at MU range from a life-size marble bust of Alice Kalish to headless torsos to the thorn-crowned “Angry Christ.”


Kalish was not particularly religious, James said, but “his thought was if Christ came back to earth, he would not be happy with what has been done in his name.”


The artist refrained from making overt political statements, according to his son. Yet he came to prominence at a time of union organizing and unrest. The American laborer was his signature theme.


The statuesque bronzes at Millersville are meticulously finished in ebony, green and copper hues; they exude dignity and power.


An older, bearded worker stoops beneath a shovel. A gauntleted man balances on a giant crane hook, his left leg wrapping the chain in balletic symmetry.


Like the story lines of each piece, Mummert said, the compositions and materials are timeless.


“Bronze will last forever if you take care of it.”


The Ganser Library gallery is open 7 to 9 p.m. Thursday and 1 to 4 p.m. Friday, Saturday and Sunday. For more information, call 872-3298.