Modernism versus Traditionalism

Art in Paris, 1888-1889

Gretchen K. McKay, Nicolas W. Proctor, Michael A. Marlais

• Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781469641270
• Topic: Art
• Subtopic: History of Modern Art

Modernism vs. Traditionalism: Art in Paris 1888-1889 considers questions surrounding artistic developments at the end of the nineteenth century in Paris. Students will debate principles of artistic design in the context of the revolutionary changes that began shaking the French art world in 1888-1889. Images from the 1888 Salon and the tumultuous year that followed provide some of the "texts" that form the intellectual heart of every reacting game. Styles include conservative art espoused by the Academy, as well as more avant-garde artcreated byartists such as Van Gogh and Gauguin. Also included are the Impressionists and Americanartists in Paris. Students must read paintings as texts and use them as the basis of their positions in advocating for the future of art. In addition to these visual texts, students will read art criticism from the period, which will help form the basis of their own presentations in favor of one art style over another. These discussions are complicated and enriched by secondary debates over the economics of art, the rise of independent art dealers, and the government's role as a patron of the arts. The game culminates at the 1889 World Exposition in Paris.

1

Introduction

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF THE GAME

This is a “reacting” game. Reacting games use complex role-play to teach about particular moments in history. This game centers on art, specifically late nineteenth-century painting. In 1888, a wide diversity of art styles existed in Paris, which was the center of the art world.

While there were many different styles of painting, the Academy—established as the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture in 1648 by King Louis XIV—still held much power. The Academy was composed of fourteen members, elected for life. Academy members advocated realistically rendered scenes of uplifting mythological, biblical, and historical subjects, and showcased them at an annual Salon in central Paris.

Any artist could submit a work of art for the annual Salon. Thousands of paintings and sculptures were usually accepted, but many more were rejected, often due to loose brushstrokes or subject matter not considered morally uplifting. The same Academy members who accepted Salon entries then decided which works would be awarded prizes and medals.

The annual Salon was the most important art event of the year, and nearly every Parisian went to see the thousands of works displayed. Artists attended to see what types of art were being supported by the Academy and which pieces were worthy of prizes. Some artists agreed with the choices made, while others did not.

This game opens during the waning days of the 1888 Salon. Prizes have been given out. Édouard Detaille’s painting The Dream has won a medal of honor and was one of the most celebrated paintings of the Salon. Much of the debate in the first session of the game will be about this painting and what this award means for the future of art.

The Impressionists are also painting in Paris. Although in 1888 they are no longer a cohesive group, having had their final group exhibition in 1886, there are many artists under this label still painting in the Impressionist manner, paying attention to light, color, and atmospheric conditions in the landscapes around them.

There are also the artists of the Avant-Garde. They abhor the Salon, the Academy, and all forms of traditional art. They are eager to try new things and are the first to explore and imagine new ways of expression. They include a group that critic Félix Fénéon refers to as the “Neo-Impressionists.” These are artists who paint in a style that separates colors into different daubs of paint on the canvas.

Art in Paris offers a chance to view, describe, and debate the full range of artistic styles and movements in 1888 and 1889. In addition to artists, players include art critics, who seek to advance their preferred aesthetics, and art dealers, who focus on work that appeals to their customers. Their discussions and views about art culminate in the 1889 World’s Fair held in Paris (the Exposition Universelle). All artists are required to show their works at the exposition—as part of the annual Salon, through a gallery show, with a group of like-minded artists, or even alone. There are many options, just as there are many artists and artistic styles.

PROLOGUE

It is 1888, and you are in Paris. You are an art lover. You have even been known to do a little sketching and have tried your hand at painting in the past. You are not an academically trained artist by any means, but you are interested, as are most Parisians, in the goings-on of the art world. Art has always been considered a national pastime. Indeed, throughout this century, art has been considered the pride of France.

Yet lately there have been some changes in the art world that are confusing. Traditional paintings that highlight the heroes of French history are still being created, but you have heard about painters who eschew such traditional subjects and paint modern views of the city of Paris. Some paint ordinary workers and scenes of everyday life—the mundane of our world. You wonder if art should elevate the common man or if it should evoke a world beyond our current troubles by depicting noble subjects of France’s past triumphs. Others proclaim that a new century is dawning and that art should be a herald of the newness to come. Some of these individuals support art that doesn’t reflect nature at all, depicting lakes of red water and skies of green. What are some of these people doing? you wonder.

Because you are not sure what you think about these new ideas, you decide that you will devote the day to seeing art—in all its forms. There are so many styles of art in Paris, and today you will attempt to see as much as you can.

You start at the Musée de Luxembourg, for it is here that works of art from the previous Salons are displayed. As you walk down the halls, you are very moved by the works that highlight the triumphs of France. Meissonier’s Friedland, 1807, painted in 1875, expertly captures the celebratory moment during the final phase of the battle of Friedland, when the emperor Napoleon and his staff reviewed the 12th Regiment of Cuirassiers as they charged past, victorious. Meissonier captured many details, and it is clear that he studied the regiment and wanted to be as accurate as possible.

You are also captivated by paintings with a more mythological focus. For instance, you can’t seem to pull your eyes off of Bouguereau’s Birth of Venus from 1879. You are mesmerized as Venus, the goddess of love and beauty, emerges from the sea. The depiction of classical nymphs, and the goddess herself, demonstrates Bouguereau’s mastery of the human form.

After spending several hours at the Musée de Luxembourg, you decide to stop and view the images that are currently displayed at the Durand-Ruel Gallery. You have been here before and seen the works of Claude Monet. You appreciate the paintings, but you also wonder if showing poppies in a field or images of rivers and bridges provides a foundation for high art. You are not sure. Yet clearly these works have an interesting color scheme. Their compositions fascinate you, and the way the artists have applied the paint is very different from what you observed at the Musée de Luxembourg. In those paintings—by Meissonier and Bouguereau—there are no discernible brushstrokes. Yet with Monet, you can see how he applies the paint. You can imagine his hand moving the brush. You admit that it seems kind of interesting. For instance, in Monet’s Impression, Sunrise, which you remember seeing in 1874 at the first Impressionist exhibition, you note that the brushstrokes mirror a kind of reflection of water. The smokestacks in the distance made you think of how your country rebounded after the shameful defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. Perhaps Monet is depicting how France rebuilt its economy by showing the sunrise over France. It is, you think, rather clever.

Since you have tried your hand at art yourself, you have in the past visited the shop of Père Tanguy (and so has nearly every other artist in Paris). Tanguy is known to be a helpful man, and he is very encouraging to artists, especially those just starting out. You have heard that he often trades supplies for paintings. While you browse in his shop, you notice an odd portrait of Tanguy hanging on the wall. There is a certain likeness, but the image is very flat. Tanguy is painted in very bright colors and looks almost like a paper cutout. He is shown surrounded by a representation of Japanese prints. This seems appropriate, since Tanguy collects Japanese prints, but the effect is strange and off-putting—especially for a portrait, you think. You ask the proprietor about this painting and are told that Vincent Van Gogh painted it in 1887. You look at the painting again, noting that you can see the brushstrokes even more clearly than in the Monet paintings at the Durand-Ruel Gallery. They seem frenetic in their application, and the colors seem to have come right out of the tube! This painting by Van Gogh is so different from the art you saw at the Musée de Luxembourg and even Durand-Ruel’s Gallery. You have a hard time imagining how this sort of avant-garde nonsense will stand the test of time.

Craving some solidity after your visit to Tanguy’s shop, you decide to visit the Panthéon. Here you see the murals that Puvis de Chavannes painted in 1877: The Childhood of St. Geneviève. You remember how back in 1887 at the Durand-Ruel Gallery you saw other paintings by Puvis de Chavannes—you were so moved by the one titled The Poor Fisherman from 1881 that you don’t think you will ever forget it. It was powerful in its presentation, but you still wonder what it was about. Bouguereau paints art that is about mythology and classical stories. But what is this poor fisherman doing, and how is he uplifting? And yet you note that in this mural in the Panthéon, the same artist who painted the poor fisherman is celebrating the life of the patron saint of Paris. Should art not lift up (inspire?) those who view it?

As you head home, you are glad you took the time to see these works on a single day. But as you reflect on your day, you realize that everything was so different. There was such a diversity of styles of art that it was dizzying. To steady yourself, you decide to stop at the Café de la Nouvelle-Athènes in order to ponder all that you have seen.

You sit back, take a sip of steaming coffee, and watch the lights chase away the oncoming gloom. You overhear some artists talking. One of them—you think you catch that his name is Seurat—is discussing the scientific properties of color. He keeps mentioning his painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (1884–86). He is really going on and on about it. You recall that it was displayed in the last Impressionist exhibition of 1886, which you attended. While you listen to the artist expound about color theory, you become mesmerized by his very specific explanations. He advocates that a color can be fully seen only when it is placed next to another color. Each color placement affects the color that is next to it, and so on. Complementary colors placed next to each other will be more vibrant, but similar colors—those next to each other on the color wheel—will seem more muted. You, too, have heard about the color wheel and the properties of complementary colors. That makes you think back to your visit to Tanguy’s shop. Was Van Gogh, who used such bright colors, trying to work out a version of scientific color theory as well?

After a few minutes, you pay your bill and, with hat back atop your head, start for home. It has been a very busy day, and you want to rest up before tomorrow, when you will view the annual Salon of 1888. You are told that there will be a discussion of the prizes that were awarded, and you are excited to attend. It is art and it is Paris, and you are thrilled to be a part of it!

WHAT IS A HISTORICAL ROLE-PLAYING GAME?

Immersive historical role-playing games are an innovative classroom pedagogy that teaches history and related subjects by placing students in moments of heightened historical tension. The class becomes a public body, or private gathering; students, in role, become particular persons from the period and/or members of factional alliances. Their purpose is to advance an agenda and achieve victory objectives through formal speeches, informal debate, negotiations, vote-taking, and conspiracy. After a few preparatory sessions, the game begins, and the students are in charge. The instructor serves as an adviser/arbiter. Outcomes sometimes vary from the history; a debriefing session sets the record straight.

The following is an outline of what you will encounter in this game and what you will be expected to do.

Game Setup

The instructor will explicate the historical context of the game before the game formally begin...