Lions Shul and leopards: sculpting Johannesburg’s history

Plastic surgeon, philanthropist, and environmentalist Professor Laurence Chait has had a parallel career as a sculptor for 45 years, with no less than 10 solo exhibitions and five public works displayed in Johannesburg and surrounds. A new book, High Seas, written by his daughter, Carla Chait, examines his artwork. The SA Jewish Report spoke to Carla.

Who is the book aimed at?

It started as a project for the two of us. But as we went through the content, it became apparent that the scope of his sculpting career was so broad as to be publicly – even historically – relevant. The obvious audience for High Seas is those who appreciate art and sculpture, but because of the many stories behind the artworks, the book would appeal to anyone interested in Johannesburg’s cultural history.

⁠You say your dad started “messing around” with sculpting Plaster of Paris while doing his housemanship. Why sculpture?

My father recalls that his father, a general practitioner, was an anguished painter. Observing this, his fascination with art began at an early age. His standard response to the question, “Why sculpture?” is that he was a bad painter. He needed lessons to paint, whereas he taught himself to sculpt. Sculpture gave him more creative and imaginative freedom.

He has sculpted portraits of famous people, including Nelson Mandela and paleoanthropologist Phillip Tobias, with whom he had a strong association over many years. Tell us about Tobias.

My father always wanted to do a bust of Tobias, with whom he had formed a kinship since Tobias lectured him in anatomy at medical school at The University of the Witwatersrand. In 2006, he was commissioned by the department to do a portrait of Tobias to be unveiled at the African Genesis mid-conference excursion. My mother took a photo of Tobias sitting in profile with the wax model of the bust my father made looking back at him. Tobias pointed out all the anatomical mistakes my father had made in sculpting his likeness, but agreed to give the artist artistic licence. The following year, the bust was erected with a plaque at the entrance to the Sterkfontein Caves, where Tobias had famously led the paleontological digs.

Your dad also sculpted animals, including a zebra, which landed up on the desk of former Investec Chief Executive Stephen Koseff. How did that come about?

He had made a set of realistic wildebeest with a lone zebra joining the herd, called Migration, but a buyer asked for the zebra to be removed, and the sculpture to have the wildebeest alone. Because Investec’s logo is a zebra, my father thought it would be a good idea to take this lone zebra to Koseff, who was Investec’s chief executive at the time. Apparently, upon seeing the zebra sculpture, Koseff exclaimed, “What’s this horse doing on my desk?!”

He did a sculpture of Max the gorilla, who survived being shot two times by a burglar who entered his cage at Johannesburg Zoo. Tell us about it.

Jenny Gray, the former chief executive of the Johannesburg Zoo, commissioned my father to make a life-size sculpture of Max for the zoo, which he made from plaster in his studio. Max’s minder, Exon, came to have a look, and he told my father to give Max a six-pack and bulging veins on his chest because Max was a “sterker”. The guys from the foundry came to take a mould and the bronze of Max was cast. As they were driving the sculpture of Max in the back of a bakkie from the foundry to the zoo, people in the street pointed and shouted, “Max! Max!” The sculpture that sits at the Johannesburg Zoo has become a favourite photo opportunity for family and kids.

Tell us about his bronze sculpture of Jock of the Bushveld.

He was commissioned to do the sculpture by the Parktown Heritage Trust to be placed on the lawn outside the then Johannesburg General Hospital, formerly the grounds of Hohenheim, where Sir Percy Fitzpatrick lived. The sculpture was unveiled by Jonathan Rands, who played Fitzpatrick in the movie adaptation of Jock of the Bushveld.

Later, one of Jock’s legs was cut off and stolen for the bronze, and the sculpture was moved into the entrance of the hospital to prevent further theft. Then much later, the sculpture was sent back to the foundry to have the leg repaired and it was ultimately moved to the barnyard area of the Johannesburg Zoo. Here, the sculpture of Jock was unveiled by Sally-Ann Fitzpatrick Niven, Percy Fitzpatrick’s great-granddaughter.

⁠Chait also sculpted a black leopard named Spirit. Tell us this story.

The leopard was taken in by Jukani Wildlife Sanctuary in Plettenberg Bay in 2007 from a zoo in Europe, where he had been abused. He was extremely aggressive, and animal communicator Anna Breytenbach was called in to help. After connecting with “Diablo”, the name he was given at the zoo, she said the leopard didn’t like his name, which suggested a darkness within, and wanted it changed. The sanctuary changed the leopard’s name to “Spirit”, and reassured him, through Anna, that nothing was expected of him there, he was free to be himself, after which his behaviour improved dramatically.

At the end of 2022, Jukani asked my father to do a memorial sculpture of the leopard as they weren’t sure how much longer he was going to live. The sculpture was erected outside Spirit’s enclosure in 2023, and shortly afterwards, he passed away.

He was commissioned by Max Price, then dean of Wits Medical School, to do a sculpture to represent reconciliation and apology for apartheid. What happened with this?

Price approached him at the end of 1999 to do a sculpture to commemorate the school’s internal reconciliation. The first maquette he made “didn’t have enough angst”, they said; the second maquette had “too much angst”; but the third one was “just right”.

He made the sculpture a couple of metres tall and the foundry took a fibreglass mould, but the bronze wasn’t ready for the unveiling on the big day of reconciliation. The foundry delivered a fibreglass mock-up painted in bronze to the medical school. The sculpture weathered the ceremony, but the next day, it fell over in the wind, and Price phoned my father in distress. The fibreglass mock-up was replaced with the actual bronze sculpture a week later.

⁠What led to his sculpture of the Lions Shul?

He was asked to make a bronze model of the Lions Shul in Doornfontein for its 100th anniversary in 2006 to auction off in an edition of 40 to raise funds for the maintenance of the shul. The security guards regarded him suspiciously when he went to take photos of the shul from all angles. He modelled the shul in plasticine to resemble the wonky house in Fiddler on the Roof, and every now and again, we run into somebody who has one.

• To get a copy of the book, email Carla Chait at carla.e.chait@gmail.com