The Successful Artist

From Raymond Rudorff, The belle epoque; Paris in the nineties (New York, Saturday Review Press, 1973)

   Most of the critics, the  public and buyers generally agreed that  French art  had  reached  an  ideal state  and  was destined  to continue as before,  with  each  new  generation of artists  faithfully adhering to established styles and standards. Art was a system and, for those who conformed to the system and became popular, the  rewards were great.  Once a painter was weil established, he led a comfortable life. The most successful artists lived like princes in great mansions in the  most  fashionable parts of Paris, magazines  published  photographs of  them   in  their  huge  studios, they  were welcome in high  social circles and were given important commissions and  honours by members of the government and  civil service. They virtually monopolised the art market, dominated the exhibitions  and  became  members of juries at the Salon.  No matter what they painted, the successful painters  all shared  a common feeling that  they belonged  to the same caste. An academic or Salon painter was a member of a club with clearly defined and unchangeable rules. They were public figures and established, officially approved   representatives  of  their   nation's culture.

  There was no question of the  artist  being  a man  outside society, a rebel  shut away  in  his studio struggling to express  a personal emotion or  view of life in  an  idiosyncratic manner which disregarded the way other artists painted and  the methods by which art was  taught. They were  at  peace  with  a society which they served  and  which honoured them in  return, and  they  earned vast sums.

  The academics had learned  how to paint  in a certain manner and -- perhaps even   more  important -- they knew  exactly   what they were expected to paint. The idea that an artist could change his style and technique, mature and transform his art as he followed  the impulsions of his genius was alien  to them. Similarly, the idea that the officially accepted attitude to art could be stultifying, outmoded or reactionary never occurred to most  artists and critics. They would have been deeply hurt if anyone had  called them either reactionary or  unimaginative. . .

  If a newcomer wished to enter the privileged circle of painters who earned  fortunes and were awarded official honours, he would have to conform to the system which had been established. He would have to learn a conventional idea of artistic beauty which was taught in the  art schools "as one  teaches algebra," as the  architect Viollet-le-Duc once  remarked.

François Sallé (France, 1839-1899) The anatomy class at the Ecole des Beaux Arts (1888)