Beaux-Arts and its governing bodies, the Institut National des Sciences et des Arts and the Académie des Beaux-Arts. The artists who served on the boards of the Institut and the Académie determined which younger artists would be successful, as they were responsible for awarding prizes and medals and, more important, for deciding, through their own old-boy network, which lucky new talent would join their ranks. The winners could expect fame, prime commissions, and generous compensation. Artists who were excluded from this network would, naturally, have a harder time making a living.
In the government schools, impatient young artists had to curb their creativity while following a strict program of lessons that progressed from copying plaster casts to painting flesh-and-blood models in life-study classes. Their schedule was demanding. Classes began early in the morning, so students who had spent the night carousing or working had to force themselves awake.
Aspiring artists who didn’t pass the exam to attend a government school could choose a less structured form of training. Paris was home to dozens of independent ateliers, private studios hosted by individual artists. Each atelier had a personality to reflect the style and temperament of its artist founder. He would teach his particular technique and encourage students to imitate the masters he admired. The independent ateliers served two important purposes. They were often used as feeder programs, polishing students who needed more experience before they could meet the standards of the École des Beaux-Arts. And they provided bolder and more confident young artists the chance to work closely with professionals who were more accessible and flexible than the teachers at the more regimented academic schools.
The ateliers may have been part of the refined art world, but the attitude there was fraternity house. Very often, the artist in charge was too busy with commissions, appointments, lunches, and other engagements to attend to the everyday matters of running the school. He might delegate to a student the responsibility of collecting fees and keeping order. Many students of college age possessed an age-appropriate appetite for pranks. New arrivals were subject to hazing and burdened with cleaning and other menial chores. Once they proved their worth, however, these newcomers became part of a brotherhood. Students who attended the same atelier would spend hours together in cafés, restaurants, and elsewhere, sharing ideas and one another’s company.
A promising atelier was that run by the artist Carolus-Duran, who was for a period Paris’s most in-demand portrait painter. Born Charles-Auguste-Émile Durand, he was flamboyant and cosmopolitan, and a rising star in Third Republic society. He was an overnight sensation in the art world in 1869, when he presented his painting The Woman with the Glove at the Salon, an annual art show that had the power to make or break an artist’s reputation. In Carolus-Duran’s case, fortune was kind. Critics raved about his simple yet dramatic portrait and proclaimed him the painter of the moment.
Subsequently, admirers would compete for invitations to his studio, desiring to be in the company of a celebrity. Carolus-Duran was so confident of his lasting popularity that he created his own rules: his fees for paintings were not negotiable, and his studio was open to the public only in the early morning, when most of society was still asleep. Albert Wolff, a journalist, observed that “a Parisian woman never rises before midday except on Thursdays to visit Carolus-Duran.”
The artist had opened his atelier after two students asked him to oversee their work. If they rented a studio in Montparnasse, another neighborhood popular with artists, and recruited other students to share the operating costs, Carolus-Duran agreed, he would come twice a week to offer advice, criticism, and lessons in technique. As his specialty was portraiture,
In the government schools, impatient young artists had to curb their creativity while following a strict program of lessons that progressed from copying plaster casts to painting flesh-and-blood models in life-study classes. Their schedule was demanding. Classes began early in the morning, so students who had spent the night carousing or working had to force themselves awake.
Aspiring artists who didn’t pass the exam to attend a government school could choose a less structured form of training. Paris was home to dozens of independent ateliers, private studios hosted by individual artists. Each atelier had a personality to reflect the style and temperament of its artist founder. He would teach his particular technique and encourage students to imitate the masters he admired. The independent ateliers served two important purposes. They were often used as feeder programs, polishing students who needed more experience before they could meet the standards of the École des Beaux-Arts. And they provided bolder and more confident young artists the chance to work closely with professionals who were more accessible and flexible than the teachers at the more regimented academic schools.
The ateliers may have been part of the refined art world, but the attitude there was fraternity house. Very often, the artist in charge was too busy with commissions, appointments, lunches, and other engagements to attend to the everyday matters of running the school. He might delegate to a student the responsibility of collecting fees and keeping order. Many students of college age possessed an age-appropriate appetite for pranks. New arrivals were subject to hazing and burdened with cleaning and other menial chores. Once they proved their worth, however, these newcomers became part of a brotherhood. Students who attended the same atelier would spend hours together in cafés, restaurants, and elsewhere, sharing ideas and one another’s company.
A promising atelier was that run by the artist Carolus-Duran, who was for a period Paris’s most in-demand portrait painter. Born Charles-Auguste-Émile Durand, he was flamboyant and cosmopolitan, and a rising star in Third Republic society. He was an overnight sensation in the art world in 1869, when he presented his painting The Woman with the Glove at the Salon, an annual art show that had the power to make or break an artist’s reputation. In Carolus-Duran’s case, fortune was kind. Critics raved about his simple yet dramatic portrait and proclaimed him the painter of the moment.
Subsequently, admirers would compete for invitations to his studio, desiring to be in the company of a celebrity. Carolus-Duran was so confident of his lasting popularity that he created his own rules: his fees for paintings were not negotiable, and his studio was open to the public only in the early morning, when most of society was still asleep. Albert Wolff, a journalist, observed that “a Parisian woman never rises before midday except on Thursdays to visit Carolus-Duran.”
The artist had opened his atelier after two students asked him to oversee their work. If they rented a studio in Montparnasse, another neighborhood popular with artists, and recruited other students to share the operating costs, Carolus-Duran agreed, he would come twice a week to offer advice, criticism, and lessons in technique. As his specialty was portraiture,
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
