Reimagining William Penn: Janet de Coux and the Creation of the Pennsylvania Icon

In 1944 Pennsylvania was celebrating the 300th anniversary of William Penn’s birthday. More than 2,580 celebrations were held across the commonwealth and the nation, and approximately 1,550 Pennsylvania schools each honored Penn with the planting and dedication of a hemlock, the state tree. These activities coincided with a movement on the part of several state officials and Pennsylvania historians to create new buildings for the State Museum and State Archives.

The William Penn statue today in The State Museum’s Memorial Hall.
The State Museum of Pennsylvania/photo by Don Giles

The executive director of the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission (PHMC), S.K. Stevens (1904–74), cleverly proposed to combine both impulses into one project: a new facility for the museum and archives that could house both collections and “a beautiful statue of William Penn.” Stevens worked tirelessly throughout the 1950s to make the proposed complex a reality, and in 1958 the architectural firm of Lawrie & Green of Harrisburg, Dauphin County, began the design.

Although a statue of Penn was always planned for the complex, it was uncertain whether it would be installed inside or outside. Some members of the State Art Commission felt it should be outside on the plaza, but ultimately the figure was placed in the museum’s Memorial Hall. More important than the location, however, was Penn’s depiction.

Throughout history, Penn had been commonly portrayed as a benevolent elder statesman or, as Stevens described him, “the pudgy figure which I term the Quaker Oats conception.” In fact, Lawrie & Green’s initial sketches for Memorial Hall illustrated the statue that way. Stevens, however, was determined to create a museum that was functional and modern in spirit, nothing like the traditional idea of a memorial building. Moreover, he was looking to convey a fresh view of the founder as “a virile and young man and something of an idealist.”

As it turned out, PHMC had the good fortune to work with an artist who possessed both the talent and temperament to reinvent Penn – Pennsylvania sculptress Janet de Coux, who had been recommended by the project architects. Up to that point, most of de Coux’s work had been ecclesiastical in nature. Also she had never before created a large-scale figure, but her religious sensibilities and knowledge of the techniques involved in creating such a statue made her the ideal artist for the job.

Janet Jessie McPherson de Coux was born on October 5, 1904, in Niles, Michigan, the youngest of five children. In 1912 her family moved to Pennsylvania when her father, Episcopal minister Charles John de Coux, became archdeacon of the Diocese of Pittsburgh. After a short time in the city, the family moved to a farm in nearby rural Gibsonia, Allegheny County. Janet later wrote that it was there that “we all started as a true family.”

Never academically inclined, de Coux enjoyed working with her hands. She was in her early 20s when she discovered her talent for creating clay models. With her passion identified she enrolled at Carnegie Tech to study sculpting in 1925. After two years there she moved to New York to find work as an apprentice in a sculpture studio. She moved from job to job, often staying only a year, but she acquired valuable experience in the various skills associated with the art. She learned about contracts, sketching, modeling, sculpting, enlarging and casting from a number of noted artists, including Carl Paul Jennewein, Aristide Cianfarani, Alvin Mayer, Gozo Kawamura and James Earle Fraser.

By 1935 de Coux had developed a firm understanding of the range of techniques used to produce architectural and monumental sculpture and statuary. She left her final apprenticeship that year and set off for Europe to gain a broader view of the world. As she traveled through England, Germany, Switzerland and Italy, she refined her opinions about architecture and sculpture and their ability to convey spirituality.

Soon after her journey, de Coux returned to Gibsonia to establish her own studio, carving out a corner of her parents’ barn for her workspace. Much as she had enjoyed working with master artists, she was glad to strike out on her own. “It was a joyful thing to put down someone else’s tools and somebody else’s plasteline [modeling clay] and somebody else’s thoughts and go my way home,” she later wrote.

Janet de Coux with her sculpture Sarah and Abraham, circa 1939. The State Museum of Pennsylvania

Gravitating toward strong characters as subjects, especially Old Testament figures, de Coux created works that featured strong lines and reflected a modern, unfussy aesthetic. She began exhibiting regularly, attracting the attention of the Pittsburgh art world. In 1936 she received the sculpture prize at the Associated Artists of Pittsburgh exhibition for her heads of both Aaron and Moses, because the judges couldn’t decide which of the two they liked better.

In 1938 de Coux received her first paid commission from the Ursuline College of New Rochelle, New York, an institution devoted to the education of young girls. Her task was to depict the 16th-century founder of the order. The young artist carved a limestone relief panel to mark the main entrance to the new library, the first “modern” building on campus. The sculpture, with its clean lines and lack of ornamentation, complemented the architecture.

That same year de Coux was engaged to design a sculptural panel for the entrance to one of the food buildings for the 1939 New York World’s Fair. Although the commission was prestigious, she cared little for sculpting architectural relief panels, preferring to work on figures in the round. Furthermore, the subject matter did not interest her.

In the early days of her career, de Coux, in addition to taking any commission that came her way, augmented her work as a sculptor with teaching. This brought additional income as well as exposure to other artists of note. Between 1942 and 1945 she spent much of her time in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, where she taught at the prominent fine arts academy Cranbrook. There she met sculptors Carl Milles, Alexander Calder and Paul Manship. Milles, whom de Coux had long admired, proved to be a great influence on her, and stylistically she began to move toward greater simplicity in her work.

Throughout the 1930s and 1940s de Coux sharpened her point of view, sculpting biblical figures in a contemporary manner. Religion had always been a large part of her life, and she increasingly sought to express her spirituality in her work. In 1938 and 1939 she was awarded Guggenheim Fellowships to explore creating sacred art using a modern aesthetic. She continued to hone her technique and personal style, perfecting an abstract, timeless quality that became her signature. In 1942, following an uninspiring civic commission for a post office in Girard, Erie County, de Coux abandoned secular work completely, focusing her efforts and talent solely on creating art that moved her: liturgical sculpture.

In addition to forsaking commissions that were not religious in nature, de Coux gave up teaching. Despite the opportunities it offered, she felt teaching was incompatible with creating her own art. Between 1945 and the early 1960s she remained in Gibsonia, undertaking numerous commissioned projects for churches and religious schools, many in Pennsylvania. She worked in a variety of media including limestone, granite, slate, marble, wood and bronze. Her representational pieces had an uncluttered aesthetic, blending Modernism with an appreciation of the human figure. Although de Coux’s works were located primarily in western Pennsylvania, they were featured in national publications such as Art Digest and LIFE magazine. She was named Pittsburgh’s Artist of the Year in 1951 and a Distinguished Daughter of Pennsylvania in 1954.

In 1962 de Coux’s concentration on religious themes was interrupted by a new commission, which she owed to her brother-in-law Paul Simpson (1896–1978). The project was for a museum building. No sculptor had been selected to create the monumental memorial statue that was to be the centerpiece of Pennsylvania’s new state museum, and Simpson, an architect with Lawrie & Green, suggested that his famed sister-in-law be engaged for the job. Fortunately, both PHMC and the General State Authority had forward-thinking leaders in S.K. Stevens and GSA Director of Engineering Allen F. Jones. Enthusiasts of the modern aesthetic, they agreed to the selection of de Coux for the project.

The size of the statue and the subject matter were new challenges for de Coux, who initially admitted she knew little about William Penn. “Like many other Pennsylvanians, I had heard about him so much I had always just assumed I knew about him till I was faced with the situation.” Her foremost concern was “how to relate the statue to something I truly believe in, and still not compromise it.” She asked Stevens for information on Penn to help her develop an approach to the work. Although there was little visual material available, Stevens sent her a book written for the tercentennial celebration, Remember William Penn, along with a description of the youthful Penn he envisioned. In a memo de Coux thanked Stevens for the “excellent” book. She was no doubt relieved to find a natural sympathy with Penn upon reading the opening paragraphs: “At eighteen William Penn, founder of Pennsylvania, was expelled from Oxford because he was too religious . . . [he] put ahead of all things the conscience of the individual, in whom he saw shining the Inner Light of God.”

Some of the various illustrations of William Penn from the book Remember William Penn that de Coux read to learn about the founder: left,an engraving at age 22 in armor based on the often-copied original from life by an unknown artist; middle, the “Quaker Oats conception,” as S.K. Stevens referred to such typical images, based on a painting by Henry Inman; and right, Alexander Calder’s statue for Philadelphia’s City Hall, showing the founder in traditional Quaker garb.

In November 1962 de Coux met with Stevens and Jones to discuss the design of the statue. She expressed her desire to capture Penn’s spiritual nature, producing “not only a physical likeness” but a reflection of his “religious fervor” and “monumental character.” Stevens agreed with her on the approach, and she set about developing her version of Penn, producing several small clay studies.

In her first 9-inch studies, de Coux depicted Penn as a slender young man in a long frock coat with a ruffled jabot, his head turned up toward God. She explored representing Penn’s role as a protector of man’s freedom to practice religion and his negotiations with the Native Americans. The final iteration of these small studies features Penn, head slightly downturned and feet apart with a sense of movement. A small figure in Quaker costume is superimposed on his chest, hands raised in a gesture of praise. Penn holds his hand over the figure, symbolizing his protection of “Free Man” and freedom of religion.

Two months after their initial meeting, architect M. Edwin Green (1896–1985), State Museum Chief Curator W. Fred Kinsey and Stevens traveled to de Coux’s studio to review the 18-inch clay version of the statue. Kinsey and Stevens were both enthusiastic. “The longer I looked at it the better I liked it,” Kinsey wrote, admiring in particular the minimal detail and the spirit that de Coux had captured with her figure. She was given the go-ahead to double the size of the figure and further refine it.

In March 1963 Stevens, Green and Jones reviewed the 3-foot clay model and discussed their thoughts. According to Green’s report, the hair was drawn too tightly around Penn’s head, his calves were too stocky, and the vertical line on the left edge of Penn’s coat had been lost in the enlarged figure. He noted, however, that the ruffles on the jabot and the lapels of the jacket were improved. In this version, de Coux had added a rolled manuscript to signify the 1681 Charter from King Charles II granting Pennsylvania to Penn, and there was extensive discussion about the size of the document. Of more substance, however, was Green’s greatest concern: “I questioned how the suggestion of Free Man on the chest was going to be developed. . . . It has occurred to me . . . that rather than a raised figure an incised and shadowy outline might be worth trying.”

Although Stevens endorsed many of the smaller changes suggested by Green, he was reluctant to propose any changes to Free Man. “There is no firm opinion on the part of most of our people regarding the figure . . . on Penn’s chest,” Stevens wrote to de Coux. “I am of the opinion this is something which should be left to the artist, because I think it is an important part of your personal concept of the statue.”

With those comments in mind, de Coux scaled the model up again, this time to 6 feet. When she sent progress photographs for review in June, Green still disagreed with the depiction of Free Man. “I feel certain that resistance will be encountered among the members of the committee in connection with the allegorical figure on the chest. I know that this sort of device was often used in church figures, particularly the saints, but it may be for just this reason that objections will be forthcoming. Isn’t there some other device that could be used?”

With the support of Stevens behind her, de Coux was diplomatic but firm: “I believe that you know with your own experience in creation, that there are certain elements central to an idea that can not be removed without changing the whole concept. That, I am afraid, is true in this particular situation. . . . I am sorry to be difficult on this point but this is basic to the whole idea. I do not believe that there is any compromise for the artist . . . and that this is the only way to an honest and strong expression.”

The full-scale waste mold with Roman joints marking the interlocking sections in de Coux’s studio, 1964. Janet de Coux Papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution

In August Green and Stevens reviewed the 6-foot model in person, this time accompanied by William N. Richards, Director of the Bureau of Museums, and Maurice Mook, a PHMC commissioner and an authority on Penn. The artist had removed the charter from Penn’s hand. She also had abstracted Penn’s face with an almost Egyptian quality, giving him a sense of calmness and dignity and further removing the statue from the realm of portraiture. The group approved the figure. The model, one third the size of the final statue, was now large enough that it could be scaled up to its full size.

Although de Coux had some experience in enlarging, it was a field of expertise that required specialized equipment. One technique for enlarging was the scrape method, which used a pantograph machine to follow the contours of the model with a boom that scraped away material to create a larger version of the original model. Another technique, the one de Coux favored, was the point method, using caliper points to translate the statue to a larger scale, which she felt produced a more lively sculpture. In late 1963 she turned to John Rochovansky of Westport, Connecticut, an expert in the point method of enlarging whom she had met during her apprenticeships, to create the full-scale model.

Stevens and Jones had hoped the statue would be installed in the museum by fall 1964. In early winter of that year, however, it became clear that their schedule could not be met, and both men contacted de Coux to express their dismay. She apologized, explaining that enlarging was a time-consuming process that was beyond her control, and gently reminded them that it had taken two years to put her contract with the state in place.

The enlargement, separated into six pieces, was delivered in April to de Coux, and she promptly set about reassembling Penn and making final adjustments. The following month Green, Jones and Stevens inspected the full-size plasteline model and gave it their approval. “I believe it will be a distinctive piece of work of which you and the Commission and everyone concerned with it will be proud,” Stevens wrote. The state and the artist agreed that the final statue would be installed in the museum no later than June 1965.

In June 1964 de Coux finalized arrangements to turn the sacrificial plasteline model into a plaster version, which could be used to create the final bronze statue. Herman Haug, who specialized in fine art plaster mold casting, came to Gibsonia for the job. He first created a waste mold (a plaster mold that could be separated into pieces through the use of Roman joints) around the model. After it hardened, the mold was removed from the plasteline original. The plaster waste mold sections were then cleaned and reassembled, creating a hollow into which plaster could be poured to create a more permanent version of the original plasteline model. Once the internal plaster hardened, the waste mold was chipped away to reveal a model that could be shipped to the foundry. At that point the artist could make final modifications, sculpting the plaster or building it up slightly as necessary.

On scaffolding, de Coux works on the 17-foot, 6-inch model in her studio, 1964. The base would add another 6 inches, bringing the full height of the statue to 18 feet. Janet de Coux papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution

In October Stevens, Green, Jones and Richards traveled to de Coux’s studio one last time to inspect and approve the 18-foot plaster model. After this visit the public had its first glimpse of the statue thanks to an article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, which was accompanied by a picture of the group reviewing the model. The state immediately began receiving feedback. Willard Rhoads of Pittsburgh wrote of his “disappointment and disapproval of the man [state officials had] selected to stand in the place of William Penn in the new Museum, a dour-faced frontier circuit riding minister.” Stevens amiably defended the representation, pointing out that the only painting of a young William Penn showed him in armor, which “does not typify the later peaceful Quaker . . . or represent the youth and idealism of Penn at the time he became proprietor of Pennsylvania.”

Having received official approval, de Coux sent her final plaster model to Fundicion Artistica in Mexico City for casting. Though using a Mexican foundry was cheaper, it was also slower and required the intervention of the state for the statue to clear customs before the model could be delivered at its destination three months later.

The Penn statue was rolled across the museum plaza on a series of logs to move it inside, June 1965. Pennsylvania State Archives/RG-13

The foundry cast the figure in statuary bronze (90 percent copper, 7 percent tin and 3 percent zinc) using the lost wax method. First, a rubber mold was made around the plaster figure. Wax, the thickness of the bronze to be cast, coated the insides of the rubber molds, and a cement-like mixture was in turn packed in and around the wax molds. The units were then placed in an oven, allowing the wax to melt away, and the hollow space was filled with bronze. Once the hot metal solidified and cooled, the cementlike covering and core were removed, leaving only the metal statue.Cast in pieces, the figure was then welded together and given a dark greenish acid patina. The process of casting and finishing the figure took three months. Upon completion, the one-piece, 3,800-pound statue was trucked from Mexico to Harrisburg. The journey took its toll on the statue, which cracked across the middle en route. Installation was delayed by several days while three workers from the foundry traveled to Camp Hill, Cumberland County, where the statue was housed temporarily, and made repairs.

On June 21, 1965, William Penn made the last leg of his journey to the museum. Riggers delivered the statue, wrapped in plastic, on a flat-bed truck. It was then rolled across the complex plaza and through the museum doors, raised into place, and bolted to a travertine pedestal.

The museum dedication ceremony was held October 13, 1965, in Memorial Hall in front of the Penn statue. Pennsylvania State Archives/RG-13

Former State Museum curator Irwin Richman recalls that while the Penn statue was being brought across the plaza, PHMC staff noted one detail that, despite all their careful review, had been overlooked. For the first time since Penn was 3 feet tall they could see the top of his head, which now featured an oak leaf resting gently at the crown. They asked de Coux about this new element of the sculpture, and she replied that the leaf represented the Treaty Tree. The staff informed her that the tree had in fact been an elm, not an oak, but it was clearly too late to do anything about it. Despite the historical inaccuracy the detail is poetic. Pittsburgh Post-Gazette art critic Donald Miller reflected, “I always thought that was a beautiful little touch” that illustrated de Coux’s “sensitivity to the humanly emotional aspects of her subjects.”

The initial reception to the statue was somewhat mixed. “The nicest thing which can be said about this creation is that it is grotesque,” one western Pennsylvania newspaper griped, calling it an “insult to the memory of William Penn” and likening it to Frankenstein’s monster and the popular television show The Addams Family. By contrast, Paul Beers, venerated columnist for the Harrisburg Patriot-News, defended the statue calling the naysayers “Philistines” and comparing them to those who had objected to George Grey Barnard’s nudes at the State Capitol many years before. Beers also defended the representation of Free Man, which had been the subject of disparaging remarks. “The artist is attempting to bring out Penn’s spirituality, his humbleness and his following of the ‘inner light.’ Next to having Penn hold a sign telling this, Miss de Coux chose a simple form of imagery to do the job.”

Governor William Scranton gives de Coux a certificate of recognition for the statue, 1965. Pennsylvania State Archives/RG-13

Stevens took the criticism in stride. “I do not believe it has been too disturbing to us,” he reported to de Coux. “The main difficulty I have encountered is the sentiment that it does not look like William Penn which in my book is a little ridiculous. . . . I do not think anyone has a very good idea of what Penn looked like, to say nothing of the fact that an artist has the right to interpret his or her subject.”

The building was dedicated in Memorial Hall on October 13, 1965, with William Penn overlooking the crowd of 700. Among them was Janet de Coux. The total cost of the statue from design to installation was $82,100. The artist credited Penn’s “noble spirit” as the inspiration for the piece, noting that “one never does wholey [sic] what one sets out to do because one finds within themselves so many limitations. My deepest hope is that in years to come that this will speak to the heart and spirit and communicate some thing of what I have felt to be the spirit of William Penn.”

The artist’s mark at the base of the statue. The State Museum of Pennsylvania/photo by Don Giles

Following the installation of the Penn statue, de Coux gave PHMC two artifacts from the construction process. The first, donated in 1965, was the full-size head of the plaster figure that was used in casting the final statue. The second, donated by de Coux and her partner Eliza Miller in 1998, was a bronze-cast version of the 18-inch study for the statue.

After the Penn statue, de Coux returned to sculpting smaller-scale works, mainly religious subjects. Although she remained well-regarded as an artist until her death in 1999, none of her subsequent work ever received the same level of attention as the Penn statue.

Today, the William Penn statue remains the centerpiece of The State Museum of Pennsylvania. Schoolchildren have their photos taken at Penn’s feet, and the patina has been rubbed away by their hands touching his shoes. This is a fulfillment of de Coux’s wishes. “I’ve thought a lot about the children who will visit that great Museum building and see the statue in future years. . . . I hope it will have meaning for them – the same kind of meaning that William Penn has for me. That’s why I’ve worked to give it a sense of mystery. Kids are interested in the unknown. Maybe it’s because they haven’t learned to be in too much of a hurry to consider the important things.”

The author thanks Curtis Miner, senior history curator at The State Museum of Pennsylvania, for reviewing this article.

Andrea W. Lowery, R.A., is an architect and architectural historian. She specializes in historic preservation for PHMC’s Division of Architecture and Preservation, which maintains the agency’s statewide collection of historic buildings. Her article “Louis Kahn and Midcentury Modern Philadelphia” appeared in the Winter 2015 edition of Pennsylvania Heritage.

Penn & Ink

by Sean Adkins

For Sara K. Lewis, Janet de Coux’s statue of William Penn has special meaning. In December 2014 Greg Lodato of Planet New York Tattoo, Poughkeepsie, New York, designed a black and gray tattoo of the statue that now graces Lewis’ arm.

“I have always loved coming to The State Museum since I was a kid,” Lewis said. “My fiancé relocated from New York to Lancaster, so taking him to The State Museum was a very important step in our relationship. Thankfully he didn’t find my enthusiasm weird and was equally impressed with the statue of William Penn.”

Adding Penn’s likeness to her right arm has long been at the top of Lewis’ wish list. “As a kid going to the museum that giant statue always left a big impression,” she said. “I love Pennsylvania.”