Augusta C. Savage By: Chiquita Woods

Growing Up I was born in Green Cove, Florida on February 29,1892, (though some dates give me 1900). I am the seventh of 14 children born to Edward and Cornelia Fells. Five of my siblings did not live to maturity.

My town had clay soil, which made it a thriving brick making area. I loved the clay from my earliest years, often choosing to slip off to the clay pits to model ducks and birds instead of going to school. The habit infuriated my father, a fundamentalist preacher with a profound belief that whipping would prevent me from “fashioning graven images.”

Whipping did not stop me from modeling my clay birds, I produced dozens of my clay birds during my childhood years. In 1907 I married John Moore, and gave birth to my only child, Irene, in 1908. Moore died a couple of years later, so me being a teenager, took my child and my clay birds and went back to my parents. I begged a pailful of clay from the owner and modeled a little statue of that Virgin Mary for my over-strict father. This persuaded the school board to appoint me to teach modeling during my senior year, at a “salary” of one dollar per day.

A Passport to Tomorrow By now I had begun to broaden my repertoire to include all sorts of farm animals. George Currie, the superintendent of an upcoming county fair gave me a booth at the fair, where my animals became so popular that I won a $25 prize. I also earned $175-my first real sum money.

Success Close My testing time came in 1923, when a committee of distinguished American artists publicized an upcoming summer sculpting to be held outside France. At first the committee claimed that the problem lay in my lack of references. However, the true reason soon revealed itself. Apparently two Alabama winners of the scholarship had refused to travel or room with a “colored” girl.

With years of practice born of whippings and poverty I fought grimly for my rights. “How am I to compete with other American artists if am not given the same opportunity?” I demanded, in a May 20, 1923 letter to New York World. At best, the result was only partial victory. The ban was upheld. Then president of the National Sculpture Society, invited me to study privately with him that summer, at his studio on Long Island.

The Tragic Decade In October of 1923 I married Robert Poston, an official of black nationalist Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association. The only one of my three marriages that brought me any happiness. Just five months after the wedding Poston died a mysterious death aboard a steamship returning to Liberia. In 1925, I received a working scholarship to the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Rome, Italy.

In 1928, my brother Fred died while rescuing Florida flood victims. Then, the following year my father died, leaving the responsibility of his funeral expenses for me to shoulder. Finally defeated, I turned my back on my dreams of Rome to take care of my family. “The Harp” was a work that symbolized a universal tenderness found only in artists who have been strengthen by lifelong burdens, as I had been. With the advent of 1960s, I contracted cancer, so I moved back to New York to live out my final months with my daughter. The end came on March 26, 1963, when she died in Abraham Jacobi Hospital.

Sculptures