In 1967, artist Ben Shahn was commissioned by Syracuse University to design a mural in a theme of his choice. Today his glass and marble mosaic takes over the east wall of Huntington Beard Crouse (HBC), and is a very dramatic (and very permanent) piece of art.
Does “The Passion of Sacco and Vanzetti” mean anything to you (smarty-pants don’t answer…)? Because that’s the masterpiece I’m talking about.
I’ve noticed it before, but I’ve never made it a point to stop and study this striking and stunning mosaic. So this past Tuesday I did just that. And looked at it. Really looked at it. For five solid minutes, just stared and studied (and probably looked lost, confused, and out of town). But then again, if public art is intended to last, why don’t we take more lasting views of it?

(photo credit: www.syr.edu)
I walked away wondering how this piece of art got here. So I decided to play detective.
First I’ll introduce the players: Ferdinando Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti were two Italian-born Americans tried, convicted, and executed for murdering two Slater-Morrill Shoe Company employees in 1920. This was one hell of a seven-year trial for these boys—full of controversy. Discriminated against for their immigrant identities, and anarchist beliefs, Sacco and Vanzetti have turned into poster boys for the injustices of our justice system—because most people think they never committed the crime.
The mural’s three sections present three candid and unadorned representations of the trial and unfortunate fate of both men. On the left are a group of protestors, symbolizing the international coverage of this event around the world. In the center is a stark, simple image of the two men themselves—Vanzetti with his iconic mustache, and Sacco looking stanch and firm, their long shadows consuming the small, wimpy lawyer standing behind the two; the last panel shows the two men after execution, in their coffins.
So how did these boys become the million little (glass) pieces on the east side of HBC? Thank one American Social Realist painter and an unlikely French factory.
Shahn’s starting point for the mural was a tempera painting he did some thirty years earlier. It’s this painting that inspired the final scene in the mosaic—and gives the mosaic its title. After Shahn completed his design, the glass and marble chips were shipped to Chartres, France, where the mosaic was assembled in small sections, before arriving at SU. I find it amazing that this was one of Shahn’s last works, and the tempera painting that inspired it, one of the first that made him famous. He died in 1969—two years after the piece was installed.
If only Shahn could know it would be a year later in May 1970 that a student strike (protesting the jailing of Black Panther President Bobby Seale) would lead to the cancellation of the last six weeks of classes. Somehow it makes me think this mosaic would have meant that much more to Shahn—knowing our own student body voicing its own disagreement against prejudice and scandal.
This is art that’s connected—literally and historically—to our campus. And its integration and permanence is part of its incredibility. It isn’t in a gallery, hanging on a white wall, with spot lighting, and nine-to-five viewing hours. This one is open 24/7, all year, any season—transcending decades.

(photo credit: www.flickr.com)
Framing the images to the side of the mural are words pulled from a famous letter by Vanzetti. It ends: “That last moment belongs to us—that agony is our triumph”. To me that’s what this piece of art is all about; transcending the constraints of our faults to create messages of hope and inspiration.
So next time you’re walking through the quad, in a rush, tuned into your ipod and tuned out of what’s around you, stop and look—because you might just find yourself standing next to a masterpiece.
~Sarah Parker