Nos artistes chez eux – The Image of the Artist in the Illustrated Press

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Nos artistes chez eux – The Image of the Artist in the Illustrated Press
“‘That’s what a newspaper’s for,’ replied Jory, laughing, ‘to be put to good use.
There’s nothing the public likes better than having great men pointed out to
it.”1
“Chaque artiste, outre sa personne, a quelque chose qui est encore lui, où se
reflètent sa vie intime, son caractère, ses habitudes, quelque chose
d’intermédiaire entre le publique et la famille: ce quelque chose est l’atelier.”2
A certain fascination with artists and their studios is probably as old as the
profession itself. From Pliny’s description of the painters and sculptors of the
ancient world in his Natural History, through Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Most
Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, to documented visits of
seventeenth- and eighteenth-century sovereigns and “grand tourists” to the
most famous artists of their day, the desire to see the “creative genius” at
work in his natural environment is a phenomenon of all ages. Yet before the
nineteenth century and the advent of various forms of popular media – in
particular the illustrated press – a visit to the artist’s studio was more or less
reserved for those of noble heritage. The rise of Romanticism and a new
image of the artist as a man endowed not only with special abilities but also
with a particular temperament and lifestyle led to a boom in interest in the
artist among the bourgeois public. The introduction of the illustrated press
meant that their curiosity could finally be satisfied in both words and pictures.
In the following essay we will look at various examples of the “mediatization”
of the artist and his studio between circa 1850 and 1890, with the aim of
deciphering the concept of the artist these sources constructed and
communicated to their audiences.
Tel arbre, tel fruit
Two factors contributed to the increasing attention paid to artists and their
places of work from the about the middle of the nineteenth century onwards.
The first was philosophical – the change in the understanding of creativity
brought about by Romanticism; the second economic – the need for artists to
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sell not only their works but also themselves in an increasingly competitive
market. In the Romantic conception, art was no longer understood to be the
imitation of nature; nor was it the product of rules that could be taught, passed
down from generation to generation through institutions such as the Academy.
Instead, art was viewed as the expression of the artist’s innermost emotions
and, above all, his personality. The result was a growing fascination with the
artist as an individual, who was also understood to be the key to his own
work.3 As Sainte-Beuve would write: “La littérature, la production littéraire,
n’est point pour moi distincte ou du moins séparable du reste de l’homme et
de l’organisation; je puis goûter une œuvre, mais il m’est difficile de la juger
indépendamment de la connaissance de l’homme même; et je dirais
volontiers: tel arbre, tel fruit. L’étude littéraire me mène ainsi tout
naturellement à l’étude morale.”4 Positivist philosophy, and above all the
theory of “race, milieu, moment” developed by Hippolyte Taine, further viewed
the artist and the work of art as conditioned by their time and place, theorizing
that insight into both could best be garnered by an examination of their
(physical) surroundings.5 Consequently, the notion of the studio as a reflection
of both the man and his works is one of the most important rhetorical tropes
we encounter in writings about the artist from the 1830s onward.
At the same time, changes in their social and economic status meant
that painters and sculptors themselves increasingly needed to seek the
limelight. Dwindling official patronage combined with a growing number of
practitioners – a result of the rising wealth of the middle classes, who
demanded art to decorate their homes – led to more competition. The artist,
once a royal protégé, was now forced to take on the role of “exhibition artist”6
and to sell his works on the open market: at the annual Salon or, later in the
century, through galleries. The need to stand out from the crowd was
enormous, and the cultivation of a public persona (together with a highly
personal artistic style) was one means of attracting attention – as the Realist
painter Gustave Courbet early realized and exploited to the fullest.7 The artist
was thus as interested in the world at large as it was in him.
Both phenomena coincided with the rise of popular media.8 In the first
half of the century, the French press had been transformed from an elite to a
mass medium, with constantly increasing numbers of readers. Further
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proliferation occurred during the Second Empire with the introduction of nonpolitical, professional, and specialized newspapers and magazines, as well as
more up-market literary journals like the Revue des Deux Mondes. The
illustrated press underwent a similar development and enjoyed an equally
large and diverse readership, with publications such as L’Illustration, Le
Monde illustré, and La Revue illustrée catering to various strata of society.9
Add to this the large number of journals dedicated solely to the arts (L’Artiste,
L’Art, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, among many others) and the opportunities for
“getting to know the artist,” and for the artist to present himself to the public as
a kind of celebrity, were almost infinite.
Visiting the Artist’s Studio
Over the years, each of the important illustrated magazines devoted articles to
visits to the artist’s studio. The most consistent among them was L’Illustration,
which in the 1850s published a total of nine articles, and in 1886 another
seven.10 For the critic A.-J. Du Pays, there was no doubt as to the purpose
and significance of a visit to the artist’s studio: “Elles présentent un triple
intérêt: outre la connaissance de l’artiste lui-même, et après l’examen de ses
ouvrages, de ses ébauches, de ses études, on aime encore à fouiller de
regard l’intérieur […] de la retraite qu’il s’est choisie, et dans l’arrangement de
laquelle se reflètent son individualité et ses goûts capricieux.”11 Writing in Le
Monde illustré, Édouard Hubert noted that it was of unquestionable interest to
the public to get a glimpse of the place where what was destined to be one of
the year’s most popular works at the Salon – Léon Bonnat’s portrait of Victor
Hugo (fig. X and cat. no. X [Giraudon/Bonnat]) – had been made, “[...]
quelqu’une de ces ateliers qui sont comme les coulisses du spectacles si
intéressant pour les masses, qu’il fait salle comble tous les dimanches.”12
Introducing the series of images published in the Revue illustrée under the
title “Nos artistes chez eux,” Gustave Goetschy noted: “Et ce qui ne aurait
manquer de donner du piquant à cette collection et d’ajouter à sa curiosité,
c’est que dans tous ces ateliers vous aurez […], avec l’image du logis, celle
de propriétaire, et que vous pourrez ainsi, les pieds dans vos pantoufles et
sans sortir de votre chez-vous, aller surprendre l’artiste, à votre heure et à
votre jour, dans l’intimité de son chez soi.”13
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The artists chosen for discussion in the illustrated press were among
the most famous, but also the most mainstream of their day.14 They were an
eclectic lot, ranging from Corot to Cabanel, working in every genre, and in a
variety of styles – all of which, however, were more or less acceptable from an
academic point of view. No artist of the Batginolles group or, later, the
Impressionists, was ever considered. This eclecticism was programmatic, part
of the official artistic ideology of both the Second Empire15 and the Third
Republic, and of the journals themselves, which sought to present their
readers with a broad spectrum of moderate opinion in matters of both culture
and politics.16 Not surprisingly, then, there is a certain amount of overlap in the
artists dealt with over the years, as well as in the discursive language used to
talk about them.
L’Illustration
As noted above, L’Illustration – whose readers belonged mainly to the upper
echelons of bourgeois society17 – demonstrated the most sustained interest in
the artist’s studio. Although the two sets of articles were written by different
authors and separated by a period of some thirty years, one of their most
remarkable features is their rhetorical and visual consistency. Despite the
enormous changes in the French political, social and artistic systems, both A.J. Du Pays in the 1850s and Paul Eudel in 1886 divide their artists into two
basic types, which I have described elsewhere as “the man of art” and “the
man of the world.”18 The former, exemplified in the 1850s by Paul Delaroche
(fig. X) and in 1886 by Edouard Detaille (fig. X),19 is characterized by a total
devotion to his art and a disinterest in the world beyond his four walls; the art
he makes is sober and didactic, designed not to please the eye and the
market, but the heart and the mind. The studio itself is described and depicted
in the engravings as both a reflection and sign of this stance: it is sparsely
furnished, slightly decrepit, containing nothing but what the artist needs to
create – his tools and his studies, which fill the walls and shelves almost to
overflowing.
His counterparts, on the other hand – artists like Narcisse Diaz (fig. X),
Camille Bernier (fig. X) or Carolus-Duran (fig. X)20 – are social creatures. Their
studios are elaborate affairs, decorated with all manner of exotica – Oriental
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rugs, arms and armor, objets d’art collected on their travels, and the
ubiquitous bahut – and they are more interested in entertaining their friends
and patrons than in work. In fact, their art seems to be made by magic, as we
see no studies or accouterments – Diaz may hold his palette, but he is no
longer using it (fig. X). Instead, the walls are hung with framed, and thus
finished, pictures, characterized by the authors as colorful, painterly, and
sensual, just the thing to appeal to popular taste. Clearly, then, this is an art
made for the spectacle of exhibition and the market. Although never explicitly
stated, there seems little doubt that both authors have a slight preference for
the “hard-working” painter, who was also a figure with whom the magazine’s
bourgeois readership could identify.
Le Monde illustré
Le Monde illustré, founded in 1857, was aimed at a slightly more middle-brow
audience than L’Illustration and, although it counted Baudelaire and Charles
Yriartre among its regular critics, was consequently also less interested in
matters of art.21 Nonetheless, it often published short biographies of artists,
usually accompanied by a bust-length engraving in which, interestingly, the
artists are shown without any outward signs of their profession. Longer pieces
seem to have been written to mark particular occasions – such as the visit of
Empress Eugènie to Rosa Bonheur in 1864 (fig. X); out of personal interest –
for example, Charles Yriarte’s outing to Daubigny’s house in Auvers in 1869;
or at the artist’s death, as in the case of Corot in 1875 (figs. X, X and cat. no.
X [Desavary]), which even included a portrait of the artist on its cover, or
Daubigny in 1878 (fig. X).22
Although each of these articles was written by a different author, a
certain consistency in the description of the artist and the studio can be found
here as well, with the rhetoric once again underscored by the illustrations.
Hermat, for example, emphasizes Bonheur’s dedication to her art, writing that,
hard at work on a large canvas of deer, she had received the sovereign “en
costume de travail”; he describes Bonheur’s “superbe atelier” in detail, noting
especially that at the time of the Empress’ visit there were no finished
paintings in the studio, but only sketches and works in progress, which,
nonetheless, reaped the sovereign’s admiration.23 Although we do in fact see
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a few framed canvases in the illustration (fig. X), the focus is on the artist
herself as she draws Eugènie’s attention not to the grandeur of the space or
her completed pictures, but rather to the studies arranged at her feet. On
prominent display, too, are the artist’s paint box, maulstick and brushes, which
serve as a repoussoir, leading the viewer’s eye directly to the central action.
Although he gives no further description of Daubigny’s indoor studio beyond
noting that it is “bel et grand,” Yriarte also stresses that the artist loves nothing
more than the banks of the Oise and his bottin, his famous floating studio,
which of course is of a highly rustic character.24 In the illustration
accompanying the brief necrology of the artist in 1878 (fig. X), we see the
artist seated at the easel, putting the finishing touches on a (framed) picture;
the studio is simple, almost unfurnished, with studies and sketches covering
the walls from floor to ceiling.
Similarly, both the necrology and the article by Alfred Robaut published
on the death of Corot in 1875 – the latter with the telling title “Son Atelier” –
describe the artist as an indefatigable worker and a man totally dedicated to
his art: “Corot, le grand artiste, s’est éteint lundi soir, dans son atelier de la rue
Paradis-Poissonnière, au milieu de sa famille, détourné des tableaux qu’il a
destiné au prochaine Salon, et qui, hélas, reste inachevés. Il soyait à ce
vaillant travailleur de mourir sur le champ de bataille.”25 Robaut describes the
studio as nothing more than a bare, narrow room containing a dozen easels,
each bearing a picture in various stages of finish, as well as a huge number of
painted sketches and portfolios of drawings.26 He supplies the reader with
quite some detail on the artist’s working methods, emphasizing his manual
skill – his hand and eye are so steady that he has no need of a maulstick and
he is able to work on several canvases simultaneously – as well as his
enormous productivity. All this is linked to Corot’s personality, which Robaut
characterizes as modest in the extreme and extraordinarily generous. One
illustration shows the artist hard at work, surrounded by his studies and
dressed in a simple smock and a striped cotton bonnet;27 the other
reproduces the studio in rue Paradis-Poissonnière, which is indeed entirely
utilitarian, containing nothing but what the artist needs for his working life.
Once again, the image of the artist proposed is that of the dedicated laborer;
for Le Monde illustré as for L’Illustration, the ideal painter is modest,
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bourgeois, interested only in his art; his studio reflects this attitude and the
simplicity and bonhomie of his character.
La Revue illustrée
La Revue illustrée was founded in 1885 and was among the most expensive
and luxurious of the illustrated magazines.28 Its readers were treated bimonthly to articles and fiction, as well as engravings, of the highest quality.
From the beginning, the publication paid some attention to the artist’s studio in
its arts reporting, already in 1885 illustrating its necrology of Paul Baudry with
two images of his atelier.29 In 1887 – very likely in imitation of L’Illustration’s
articles of the previous year – the review launched its own series of “visits,”
consisting this time, however, only of an introductory essay and a small group
of engravings (after photographs) spread throughout the volume.30 In the
same year, it also published two longer articles on Edouard Detaille and
Sarah Bernhardt, both of which were accompanied by images of the artists’
studios.31
Gustave Goetschy opens his introduction by noting that a series such
as this should also be of interest to publishers, as nowadays the public’s
curiosity about the artist and his studio is greater than ever.32 He then
describes the studios of yesteryear, when artists painted wherever they could
– in garrets or in the ruins of ancient hôtels – caring nothing for fashion or the
society, dedicated only to their art: “Et chez tous ces gens-là l’on devinait un
amour profond de leur métier, une infatigable ardeur de tenter de grands
projets, sans souci de savoir s’il leur en viendrait de l’honneur en plus et
quelque argent par surcroît.”33 Nowadays, though, things have changed:
artists have more money and as a result have created luxurious studios,
perfectly adapted to their needs and in the most elegant taste. Moreover,
collectors are as interested in the artist himself as they are in his works, so
that withdrawing into the privacy of the studio is no longer an option: “Au désir
d’acquérir les oeuvres, un autre désir succédé: celui de connaître les ouvriers.
On les appela dans le monde; oublieux des dédains d’autrefois, ils en
devinrent les hôtes et les favoris. Il furent de toutes les fêtes, et, même, on en
inventa pour eux.”34 The studio, too, now belongs in the public domain, so
much so that the bourgeoisie have even taken to imitating it in their own
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homes: the mismatched furniture, exotic objects and bibelots that found their
way into the atelier out of necessity and love of novelty are now the height of
fashion. The text’s somewhat sardonic tone leaves no doubt that Goetschy
disapproves of this development and is nostalgic for the heady days of
Romanticism, for the red waistcoat and the rapin of 1830.
Underlining his argument are the descriptions of the studios of the
day’s most fashionable painters and, of course, the illustrations. Constant’s
studio (figs. X, X, X and X), Goetschy writes, is perfectly suited to his taste
and also contains everything the artist needs for his Orientalist creations.35
Carolus-Duran’s is a temple, “où les misses américaines s’en vont faire leur
dévotions à l’art […],”36 while Alexandre Cabanel’s (figs. X and X) is “riche,
élégant, correct et soigné comme lui.”37 Mihály Munkácsy inhabits a true
Hungarian palace; Bonnat’s studio is “charmant et richement aménagé”38
and Gérôme’s “achalandé plus richement qu’un bazar d’Orient” (figs. X and
X).39
Gérôme forms an interesting case and sheds light on what it is we
actually see in these illustrations. A year earlier, Paul Eudel had published an
article on Gérôme’s studio in L’Illustration, describing it as “un atelier fort
simple, un veritable atelier de travail”; and indeed this is what the illustration
shows (an illustration, incidentally, also based on a photograph) (fig. X).40 This
indicates that the “studios” in the Revue illustrée are not the spaces where
these artists actually worked, but rather their “show studios,” where they
received their guests and patrons. The “show” or “salon” studio was a typical
late nineteenth-century phenomenon, especially popular among successful
painters. Despite the fact that the artists appear to be at work, what we see in
the illustrations is entirely staged. This is thus the studio as pure spectacle,
designed not to provide insight into the work or the artist’s working methods,
but rather to demonstrate his success, his fine taste and social status. These
artists are not laborers, and their studios are no sanctuaries; instead, they
have embraced their public role: they are “exhibition artists” par excellence.
The one exception is Detaille (figs. X and X): in both the article on him and the
illustration the (now apparently archaic) virtues of hard work are extolled, and
the studio we see is indeed the space where the artist actually works.41
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What, then, is the image of the artist constructed in the popular illustrated
press? The artist may be a man of straightforward character, living a simple
life and creating his sober art in a sober environment; or he may be a
successful and fashionable man, who fills his luxurious studio with expensive
and exotic objets d’art and paints pictures that never fail to please the crowd
at the Salon. Either way, he is a figure with whom the readers of these various
magazines could identify, and even perhaps an example to follow. For the
audience of Le Monde illustré he is a hard-working and upright citoyen; for the
haute bourgeois readers of L’Illustration and La Revue illustrée he is a laborer
for the love of art or a successful man of the world, whose success was even
worthy of imitation. In any case, he was no longer a troubling character – a
bohemian with perilous ideas about art and civilization; and the goings-on in
the studio were no longer secret, mysterious and therefore dangerous. This
cooptation of the artist and the neutralization of the radical potential of art fit
perfectly with the political ideologies of both the Second Empire and the Third
Republic, but also with the ideology of the press, itself an instrument in the
implementation of the power of the bourgeoisie in this important and
transitional period in French culture and society.
Rachel Esner
University of Amsterdam
Illustrations
Fig. X. Les Coulisses de Salon – Victor Hugo posant dans l’atelier de M.
Bonnat. Engraving from: Le Monde illustré (24 May 1879), 328-329
Fig. X. Atelier de Paul Delaroche. Engraving from: L’Illustration (14 September
1850), 165
Fig. X. Les Ateliers de peintres – Edouard Detaille. Engraving from:
L’Illustration (22 May 1886), 269
Fig. X. Atelier de M. Diaz. Engraving from: L’Illustration (19 March 1853), 185
Fig. X. Les Ateliers de peintres – Camille Bernier. Engraving from:
L’Illustration (20 March 1886), 184
10
Fig. X. Les Ateliers de peintres – Carolus-Duran. Engraving from: L’Illustration
(3 July 1886), 12
Fig. X. Sa Majesté l’Impératrice rendant visite à Mlle Bonheur dans son atelier
de Thomery. Engraving from: Le Monde illustré (25 June 1864), 403
Fig. X. Corot dans son costume d’atelier. Engraving from Le Monde illustré
(27 February 1875), 140
Fig. X. L’Atelier de Corot, rue Paradis-Poissonière, tel qu’il l’a quitté.
Engraving from: Le Monde illustré (27 February 1875), 140
Fig. X. L’Atelier de notre regretté collaborateur Charles Daubigny. Engraving
from: Le Monde illustré (3 March 1878), 160
Fig. X. Atelier de M. Benjamin Constant. Engraving by Ch. Baude from: La
Revue illustrée 4 (June-December 1887), 144
Fig. X. E. Bénard, The Studio of Benjamin Constant, 1887. Paris: Biblothèque
Nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes
Fig. X. Atelier de M. Benjamin Constant. Engraving by H. Léveillé from: La
Revue illustrée 4 (1887), 149
Fig. X. Alphonse Giraudon, The Studio of Benjamin Constant, c. 1887. Paris:
Collections de l’Ecole nationale supérieure des beaux-arts
Fig. X. Atelier de M. A. Cabanel. Engraving by H. Léveillé from: La Revue
illustrée 4 (June-December 1887), 249
Fig. X. E. Bénard, The Studio of Alexandre Cabanel, 1887. Paris: Biblothèque
Nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes
Fig. X. Atelier de J.-L. Gérôme. Engraving by Ch. Baude from: La Revue
illustrée 4 (June-December 1887), 193
Fig. X. E. Bénard, The Studio of Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1887 (?). Paris:
Biblothèque Nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes
Fig. X. Les Ateliers de peintre – Gérôme. Engraving from: L’Illustration (17
April 1886), 257
Fig. X. Atelier de Edouard Detaille. Engraving by H. Léveillé from: La Revue
illustrée 4 (June-December 1887), 385
Fig. X. E. Bénard, The Studio of Edouard Detaille, c. 1887. Paris: Biblothèque
Nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes
1 Emile Zola, The Masterpiece, trans. Thomas Walton, Oxford 2008, 177.
2 L. Vitet, “Peintres modernes de la France – Ary Scheffer,” Revue des Deux Mondes (1
October 1858), 512.
3 Philippe Junod: “L’Atelier comme autoportrait,” in: Pascal Griener and Peter J.
Schneemann (eds.), Künstlerbilder – Images de l’artiste. Colloque du Comité International
d’Histoire de l’Art, Université de Lausanne, 9-12 juin 1994, Bern, Berlin, Frankfurt/M., New
York, Paris, and Vienna 1998, 88.
4 Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, “Etude de biographie morale,” Revue Contemporaine
(1869), 597.
5 See, among others, Hippolyte Taine, Philosophie de l’art, Paris 1865; Junod, “L’Atelier
comme autoportrait,” 88.
6 On the rise of the “exhibition artist” see Oskar Bätschmann, The Artist in the Modern World
– A Conflict between Market and Self-Expression, Cologne 1997.
7 On Courbet see Petra ten Doesschate-Chu, The Most Arrogant Man in France. Gustave
Courbet and the Nineteenth-Century Media Culture, Princeton and Oxford 2007.
8 There is a vast amount of scholarship on the history of the French press. I have relied here
on the excellent discussion of the development of the mass media in France provided by Chu,
The Most Arrogant Man in France, 5-9.
9 For the history of the illustrated press see especially Jean-Pierre Bacot, La Presse illustrée
au XIXe siècle. Une Histoire oubliée, Limoges 2005 and Jean Watelet, La Presse illustrée en
France, 1814-1914, 4 vols., Paris 1998.
10 On the series of articles in L’Illustration see the present author’s “Visiting Delaroche and
Diaz with L’Illustration,” Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide 11/2 (Summer 2012):
http://www.19thc-artworldwide.org/index.php/summer12/rachel-esner-visiting-delaroche-anddiaz-with-lillustration; and idem, “Man of Art or Man of the World. The Image of the Artist in
L’Illustration,” RIHA Journal (forthcoming). In addition to the groups of articles discussed here,
L’Illustration also published a long article on the house and studio of Horace Vernet (H.A., “La
Maison de Horace Vernet à Versailles,” L’Illustration (3 June 1848), 231-233); and a necrology
of Corot in the form of a discussion of his studio (Alfred Robaut, “L’Atelier de Corot,”
L’Illustration (6 March 1875) 157-158).
11 A.-J. Du Pays, “Atelier de Dantan jeune,” L’Illustration (30 May 1857), 347.
12 E.H. [Édouard Hubert], “Les coulisses de Salon,” Le Monde illustré (24 May 1879), 326.
13 Gustave Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” Revue illustrée 4 (June-December 1887), 147.
14 An exception might be made for Delacroix, although by 1852, when L’Illustration devoted
an article to him (A.-J. Dupays, “Visite aux ateliers: Delacroix,” L’Illustration (25 September
1852), 205) he was no longer considered the Romantic rebel he had once been.
15 See Patricia Mainardi, Art and Politics of the Second Empire. The Universal Expositions of
1855 and 1867, New Haven and London 1987, especially chapter 8, “Critical Theories: The
Apotheosis of Eclecticism,” 66-72.
16 On L’Illustration’s politics of moderation see Jean-Nöel Marchandiau, L’Illustration (19431944). La Vie et la mort d’un journal, Toulouse 1987, 295-298, and David Kunzle,
“‘L’Illustration.’ Journal universel, 1843-53. Le premier magazine illustré en France. Affirmation
du pouvoir de la bourgeoisie,” Nouvelles de l’estampe 43 (January-February 1963), 8-19.
17 Marchandiau, L’Illustration (1943-1944), 298.
18 See Esner, “Man of Art or Man of the World”.
19 See A.-J. Du Pays, “Visite aux ateliers: Delaroche,” L’Illustration (14 September 1850),
164; and Paul Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Edouard Detaille,” L’Illustration (22 May 1886),
359.
20 See A.-J. Du Pays, “Viste aux ateliers: Diaz,” L’Illustration (19 March 1853), 185-186; Paul
Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Camille Bernier,” L’Illustration (20 March 1886), 183; and
Paul Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Carolus Duran,” L’Illustration (3 July 1886), 3.
21 See Pierre Miquel, Art et Argent, 1800-1900, Maurs-la-Jolie 1987, 186, and Watelet, La
Presse illustrée, vol. 3, 33-34.
22 A. Hermant, “Visite de S.M. l’Impératrice chez Mlle Rosa Bonheur,” Le Monde illustré (25
June 1864), 402, 406; Charles Yriarte, “Courrier de Paris,” Le Monde illustré (27 June 1868),
403; V.-F.M., “Corot,” Le Monde illustré (27 February 1875), 140 and Alfred Robaut, “Son
Atelier,” Le Monde illustré (27 February 1875), 142; and Frédéric Henriet, “Charles Daubigny,”
Le Monde illustré (3 March 1878), 150, 160.
23 Hermant, “Visite de S.M. l’Impératrice,” 406. Du Pays, too, describes the artist and her
Paris studio in a similar fashion in his article published in 1852: A.-J. Du Pays, “Visite aux
ateliers: Rosa Bonheur,” L’Illustration (1 May 1852), 283-284.
24 Yriarte, “Courrier de Paris,” 403.
25 V.-F.M., “Corot,” 140.
26 See also Alfred Robaut, “L’Atelier de Corot,” L’Illustration (6 March 1875), 158: “Ce n’était
point un des ces ateliers encombrés de bibelots et de colifichets tels que les aiment nos
peintres à la mode; c’était un sanctuaire de l’art presque austère dans sa simplicité; les
innombrables études accrochées de toutes parts sur les murailles nues en composaient la
seule décoration.”
27 According to the caption, the print is after a painting by Charles Desavary and shows the
artist at work in his studio in Arras around the time of the Commune. The whereabouts of the
painting are unfortunately unknown.
28 Bacot, La Presse illustrée, 151.
29 Henry de Chennevières, “Paul Baudry,” La Revue illustrée 1 (December 1885-May 1886),
178-183.
30 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 144-148
31 Georges Cain, “Edouard Detaille,” La Revue illustré 4 (June-December 1887), 379-386;
and Maurice Guillemot, “Chez Sarah Bernhardt,” La Revue illustrée 5 (December 1887-June
1888), 75-81.
32 It is possible that Goetschy was here thinking of British photographer J.P. Mayall’s already
famous Artists at Home, a collection of engravings after his photographs published in book
form in 1884 – a work that had no doubt also inspired the series of studio visits in
L’Illustration. Most of the prints in the Revue illustrée are in fact based on photographs drawn
from a larger group by the now-forgotten photographer E. Bénard, who appears to have made
the set in anticipation of just such a publication. No such book, however, ever appeared.
Examples of Bénard’s photographs are archived in the Musée des Arts Décoratifs and the
Cabinet des Estampes of the Bibliothèque de France in Paris; see Michael Klant, Künstler bei
der Arbeit, von Fotografen gesehen, Ostfildern-Ruit 1995, 58-60, fn. 9.
33 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 146.
34 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 147.
35 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 148. A year earlier, Paul Eudel had written an almost
hallucinatory description of Constant’s studio in L’Illustration, emphasizing its otherworldliness, exoticism and chaos: “L’atelier de l’impasse Hélène ce n’est plus Paris, c’est
l’Orient avec son art raffiné et somptueux, son exubérance, son intensité, son éclat, ses ors,
son faste, sa splendeur, sa magnificence.” For the author, the love of voluptuousness,
sensuality and color seen in Constant’s Orientalist art are perfectly reflected in his studio (and
the other way around). The studio is the expression of his art and flamboyant personality. See
Paul Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Benjamin Constant,” L’Illustration (12 June 1886), 411,
424 (ill.).
36 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 148. In 1886, Eudel had also characterized CarolusDuran’s studio as similarly sociable; describing his weekly Thursday open house, with its
plethora of foreign visitors, he writes: “Ici l’on cause et l’on jouit de la vie le plus agréablement
possible en abrégeant les heures au moyen d’intelligentes discussions d’où les banalities
sont proscrites.” See Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Carolus Duran,” 3.
37 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 148.
38 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 148.
39 Goetschy, “Nos Artistes chez eux,” 148.
40 Paul Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Léon Gérôme,” L’Illustration (17 April 1886), 247,
257 (ill.).
41 See Cain, “Edouard Detaille,” passim. Once again, the description of Detaille and his
studio in L’Illustration is similar; see Eudel, “Les Ateliers de peintres. Edouard Detaille,” 359.