Showing posts with label Academic Painters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academic Painters. Show all posts

Thursday, June 27, 2019

Leloir Watercolors

Louis Leloir, The Page and the Parrot
Watercolor, 36 x 24 cm.
Alexandre-Louis Leloir (1843-1884) as an academically trained French artist who specialized in historical subject matter. 

Leloir Moroccan girl playing a string instrument, 1875
In addition to his oil paintings, he produced finely detailed watercolors using models in costume.


Wikipedia says: "From 1868, he directed his painting towards the genre scenes, drawing inspiration from medieval everyday life, from the interiors of the Grand Siècle, in the Dutch manner, and in Orientalist scenes. He illustrated some editions published by Damase Jouaust, and also illustrated books by Molière and other notable authors. He participated in the foundation of the Society of French Watercolourists."
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Wikipedia on Alexandre-Louis Leloir 

Sunday, June 16, 2019

The Cult of the British Naturalists

A group of British artists of the nineteenth century hung out with the painters living in rural France. They were especially inspired by Jules Bastien-Lepage, who painted working people in real settings.

Painting by Stanhope Forbes
British painters Stanhope Forbes and Henry LaThangue (below) settled in the fishing community of Cornwall and formed what came to be known as the Newlyn School.

Photo of Henry LaThangue
A 1906 biography, quoting Forbes, describes the working principles of this group:

"To paint the picture entirely and absolutely out of doors, braving all difficulties, and relying in no way upon sketches or studies, with which, later on, the work could be comfortably finished within the walls of a studio—such was the creed to which they pledged themselves.

LaThangue
"Nature was to be respected and followed without question: to be blindly obeyed. Models might grumble and dislike having to sit in the street under the very eyes of the whole village, but the cult demanded it, and its exponents gave an example of self-sacrifice, for they spared themselves no trouble, and worked out their principles with admirable conscientiousness."

LaThangue
"'It may seem somewhat of a paradox, but I have often found the success of the picture to be in inverse ratio to the degree of comfort in which it has been produced. I scarcely like to advance the theory that painting is more successful when carried on in discomfort, and with everything conspiring to wreck it, for fear of rendering tenantless those comfortable studios the luxury of which my good friends in the Melbury Road and St. John’s Wood so much enjoy. At the same time, I do seriously think that there is a certain quality of deliberateness most valuable in painting, which is undoubtedly encouraged where the conditions of one's work are not over and above enjoyable.

Painting by Stanhope Forbes
"In his eagerness to get the work done, the painter is careful not to waste time or linger over the job, but to go straight at the mark and make every touch tell. I have never painted with such directness as on those fortunately rare occasions when I have worked at sea, and I have carried large pictures right through to the last touch in smithies, stable-sheds, and amid all sorts of queer surroundings under conditions which when starting seemed absolutely hopeless and prohibitive. It is much discussed whether it is better to work directly from Nature or to make innumerable studies or notes and paint the picture from them. I believe no rule can be laid down, and that it is entirely a matter of individual temperament.

"My own custom has always been to work as much as possible on the spot, and practice has taught me that this offers certain advantages over any other method. There is a quality of freshness most difficult of attainment by any other course, and which one is too apt to lose when the work is brought into the studio for completion."
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Quotes from the 1906 book: Stanhope A. Forbes A.R.A., and Elizabeth Stanhope Forbes, A.R.W.S. by Mrs. Lionel Birch

More recent book with color reproductions: Stanhope Forbes and the Newlyn School

Online article: Henry Herbert La Thangue – the pictorial documenter of rural life

Thursday, June 13, 2019

First-Hand Gleanings from Sargent

In his memoir, painter and sculptor Emil Fuchs said he asked John Singer Sargent for permission to paint in the master's presence in order to learn from him.

John Singer Sargent, portrait of Edwin Booth, detail, 1890
Sargent wasn't particularly verbal about his painting philosophy or his technique, but Fuchs was able to glean some helpful insights anyway.
"He never said much, but what he did say, one might do well to engrave upon the tablets of one's mind. One of the great man's teachings was the dominant importance of values over color. 'Color,' he said, 'is an inborn gift, but appreciation of value is merely a training of the eye which everyone ought to be able to acquire.' "
"Value in art, as everyone knows, simply means the relation of light to shade. Sargent referred to this idea over and over, and it occurred to me that perhaps he meant value not in pictures alone, but fundamentally in all the realms of life. His work demonstrates his ingrained belief in this. I can think of nobody who can see and render values with such delicate distinction as does Sargent."  
"His palette was to me a marvel. His enormous wealth of color he produces with a few simple hues, mostly earth colors — white, yellow ocher, light red or vermilion, burnt sienna, cobalt blue, emerald green and black. His is a rare skill in using and combining them." 
"Some mornings he would come in and, without saying much, would help me in painting a difficult passage from the model. While the direct way of painting appealed to him, he fully appreciated the more subtle methods, especially that of grisailles and glazing, by which many masters obtain their effects of brilliancy. This method, perhaps I should add, consists in painting first in black and white, and then laying on a thin film of transparent color."   
"Sargent's veneration for the work of the old masters was profound. But Velasquez and Franz Hals were the gods of his Pantheon. He copied both freely. Of Velasquez he had in his studio a facsimile of the dwarf Don Antonio el Ingles, and of Franz Hals several groups from his large pictures at Haarlem copied by himself. If my recollections of our discussions about artists are correct, Van Dyck seemed to appeal to him the least."
"About technique it was always difficult to make him express himself in words. Rather than explain a serious problem, he would take a brush and paint that piece and the difficulties would vanish under his touch. When I worked at his studio he offered me the free use of his colors and even his palette and brushes which lay about in profusion. Few artists can bring themselves to lend these objects without feeling it to be sacrilege."
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With Pencil, Brush, and Chisel by Emil Fuchs
Emil Fuchs on Wikipedia
John Singer Sargent on Wikipedia

Monday, June 10, 2019

Before and After Morphine

Spanish painter Santiago Rusiñol (1861-1931) painted a young woman before and after taking morphine.
Santiago Rusiñol — Before Morphine, 1894
In the first painting she's sitting up in a bed, her head lost in the shadow. Her arm looks thin and emaciated.

Santiago Rusiñol — Morphine's Girl
After she falls under the influence of the drug, her head sinks back on the pillow, and her fingers clutch at the covers. Her change in mental state is expressed mainly with the pose of her arm and with her surroundings.

According to the Museu del Cau Ferrat, which includes one of the paintings: "The morphine addict in the painting is Stephanie Nantas, the painter’s favourite model during the months he was staying in the apartment in Quai Bourbon. She appears in nearly ten works that Rusiñol produced anonymously during that period."
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Museu del Cau Ferrat
Santiago Rusiñol on Wikipedia

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

The Challenges of Garden Painters

Sitting in a garden painting a watercolor sounds like a pretty easy life, doesn't it?

One might think so, but two artists, Ernest Arthur Rowe (1863-1922) and George S. Elgood (1851-1943), show the kind of challenges these garden specialists faced.

Ernest Arthur Rowe, Holme Lacy, Herefordshire, 1902
Both of them traveled around Britain painting detailed watercolor portraits of estate gardens for rich clients.

Ernest Arthur Rowe - Revesby Abbey, Lincolnshire, The Fountain 1898
Ernest Arthur Rowe often had to contend with bad weather. In 1892 in Suffolk, he "worked in the garden under an umbrella in the morning and for an hour in the afternoon, then gave it up as a bad job. Rained all day." 

Later he said in his journal "a 24 x 20 drawing [was] blown into a fishpond."

Ernest Arthur Rowe - The Terrace, Gwydyr
He also faced financial challenges, even though he was one of the leading garden painters of his day. When he started out, he had a hard time getting commissions, so he would arrange permission from the head gardener to do a rendering, and then sweet-talk the owner into buying it.

In 1890 he only made £30. He gradually improved his fortunes enough to marry and build a house.

Ernest Arthur Rowe, Rose Garden
All his life he suffered from poor health. The First World War devastated the world that supported his profession, but he was able to revive his career a bit before his death in 1922. After that, for 50 years, he was virtually forgotten.

George Elgood
George S. Elgood was probably the best known garden painter and a gardener himself. He illustrated books by the renowned designer Gertrude Jekyll, and he was inspired by the gardens of Italy.

His paintings achieve a remarkable botanical truthfulness without sacrificing the atmospheric quality and the tonal unity of the distant areas.
George Elgood, Italian Garden
According to Christopher Wood, "as he grew older, Elgood grew increasingly crotchety, eccentric, and reclusive." His notes reveal "his great contempt for garden designers" and his disrespect for others in his profession. Apparently Elgood and Rowe didn't know each other and never spoke.

Elgood had a particular distaste for architects who designed gardens, and he wrote: "the architect who designed this porch ought to be whipped."
George Elgood
"In his own house," Wood continues, "Elgood resolutely eschewed all modern conveniences, refusing to install heating, electric light or even running water. He died a cantankerous, bearded old recluse, in 1943 at age 92, by which time the golden age of English gardens which he had so lovingly depicted, had long since passed away."
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The quotes are from the art book Painted Gardens: English Watercolours, 1850-1914 by Christopher Wood

Sunday, May 19, 2019

Shortcomings of American Art Education

In the following essay, a famous artist discusses the shortcomings of art education in America, and proposes some remedies. At the end of the post, I'll let you know who wrote the essay.  

Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Portrait Class, 1901
"It seems to me that no one could seriously dispute the fact that a great school of art in America is needed, or that such a school would have the very greatest influence in the development both of the spirit and the practice of art. As art is now taught in this country, it is too fragmentary. The pupils are not thoroughly grounded. Any one who wants to study art here can do so. The examinations are too easy. In the foreign schools the examinations are very difficult. The student must know a good deal to pass them. There should be an American school with equally high requirements. 

If a young man [or young woman] wants to enter Harvard or Yale, his preparation must be thorough. That is the way it should be with the school of art, for the school of art should really be like a university. The student, before being admitted to the university, should have passed beyond the elemental stage of study which properly belongs to the grammar-school grade. As it is now in America there is no place where parents who think their son is a genius can send that son to find out that he isn’t a genius. There are very few people who can’t be taught to draw more or less well, but the mere ability to draw does not make an artist. 

"There seems to be a desire on the part of a very large number of persons either to become professional artists, sculptors, and painters or to acquire some of the principles of decoration. But there is also widespread ignorance that a thorough grounding in certain facts is absolutely essential to the serious student before he is prepared to avail himself of the experience of others. 

Those who wish to study art here are admitted to classes far too leniently. In the schools abroad the entrance examinations are very severe, and by a succession of examinations, the less talented are eliminated. This refers, of course, to the great schools — not to the irresponsible studios, where a model or two is hired and a few painters with a present reputation are engaged to call in occasionally to give advice; to such schools anybody, with no experience whatever, can, by paying a small fee, be admitted. 

It has been immensely to the advantage of America that there is nothing for architects abroad which corresponds with the irresponsible painting ateliers referred to. The student of architecture going to Paris, for instance — although my remarks do not apply to Paris alone — can only study his profession by going into the “Beaux Arts.” The entrance examination is very severe, of course, and should be so, but the effect upon the American student is everywhere apparent here, and has given the architects of the United States the great position they occupy to-day. 

If the money is provided — and one of the things which surprises me on coming back to America is the amount of money there seems to be — there would seem to be no reason why a great American school of art should not be established and be put in working order within a reasonably short time. A building should be furnished, among other things, with copies of the best examples of art in foreign countries in sculpture, painting, and architecture. There would be little difficulty in acquiring these, although it would take time. 

The American Art Federation would be the institution which would most naturally father the work of establishing an American school. And the question of a location for the school would have to be answered by circumstances. It should be in a center, some place where it would be to the advantage of both pupils and instructors to live. The location might be a problem. One would name New York as the obvious place for the school, as the National Academy is there, and the various art societies to which most American artists contribute hold their exhibitions there. 

The art ability of Americans is not to be belittled. The best American artists can hold their own anywhere. American art as a whole, however, has the tendency to be preoccupied with problems of a technical nature, such as how to put on paint, and things of that sort. The painting of individual pictures is not art in its highest form. Pictures are only fragments. The great things are works which carry an idea through to completion. 

I do not think that the great problems of adapting one subject or composition to its environment is sufficiently studied, if it is studied at all. The three great branches of art — painting, sculpture, and architecture — should be independent. Without a knowledge of the other two, each is incomplete. The restraining influence the study of each one has upon the others is of the greatest importance and of the greatest service. 

A school should have, first of all, the great artists of the country as overseers. That is the method pursued in Munich, where the great artists are given studios in the school, and the students are allowed, several days in the week, to consult them about ideas. In addition to the influence of American artists of first rank, the American school might also make arrangements to receive the benefit and advice of prominent foreign artists who are visiting this country from time to time. As to the instructors, there should be many of them, and there is no reason why they should not be drawn from the ranks of American artists. 

The curriculum of the school should embrace sculpture, painting, and architecture, and every student should be made to learn something about all three branches of art. There are many Americans who are quite competent to act as instructors, under the supervision of artists of first rank. And the great thing is that the school should have one inspiring head. The advantage of having great artists on the staff, to whom students can have access, lies in the fact that one can learn much more by working with a man than by simply being told what to do, or what not to do. The establishment of the school would mean, primarily, the sifting out of the incapable. It would push forward those who had real talent, and would discourage those without talent. 

An art atmosphere is hardly to be spoken of as something which is created; it is rather something which happens. It is a matter of tradition. A whole country grows up to art, and the atmosphere comes gradually into being, one can hardly explain when or how. And a people who have once developed an art atmosphere may degenerate. Take Italy, for example. The Italy of the past was a paradise of art. Rome is an eternal city because of the handiwork which immortal artists have left there, if for no other reason. But take the Italy of to-day—where is its art atmosphere? The average modern Italian likes the worst pictures and loves noise. It would seem as if all the art air had been breathed over there. An art atmosphere is not generated entirely by pictures. The kind of houses men build, and what they put into them; the decorations of public buildings; the beautifying of public parks; the care of the streets, all these things play important parts. In this day, it is not so much the love of pictures as care for vital things which needs to be encouraged. 

The generating of an art atmosphere requires a great deal of money, as well as a great deal of good taste on the part of a great many people. Public building decorations of the highest order are so expensive as frequently to make them impossible. The artist who does the work, too, must inevitably make sacrifices. But the man who takes up the profession of art must have higher aims than financial considerations. The painting of an important and thoroughly careful work is much more expensive than most people realize.

Edwin Austin Abbey King Lear, Act I, Scene I The Metropolitan Museum of Art.jpg
King Lear, Act I, Scene I (1897-98) By Edwin Austin Abbey -
Metropolitan Museum of Art, Public Domain, Link
The essay was written by the American illustrator and painter Edwin Austin Abbey, and it appeared in Brush and Pencil magazine. Abbey was an illustrator and painter, trained at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. He was a good friend of John Singer Sargent, and alongside Sargent, he painted murals for the Boston Public Library. He lived and worked for most of his career in Great Britain, and exhibited regularly at the Royal Academy. The essay was published in the March, 1902 edition of Brush and Pencil magazine.

Questions for discussion:
1. Abbey argues for maintaining high standards and weeding out those of lesser abilities. Is that position tenable in our time, and in today's art world?
2. Should an art school have a shared set of standards or values, and what should those standards be?
3. Why does our contemporary artistic culture allow for these standards in music conservatories, such as Julliard, Bard, or Eastman, but not in art schools?
4. He says "American art as a whole has the tendency to be preoccupied with problems of a technical nature, such as how to put on paint, and things of that sort." Is it still true that Americans are preoccupied with tools and technique? 
5. Abbey argues that the curriculum should embrace painting, sculpture, and architecture. For those of you who have studied sculpture or architecture, what has that study given you as a painter?

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Ettore Tito, Painter of Contemporary Life


Ettore Tito's paintings celebrated the daily life of the Italian people, often showing them in rich color and dynamic action.


Born in southern Italy, the son of a sea captain, he worked his way toward the English and French-speaking art markets, where the money was, and where new ideas of art were in the air.

Ettore Tito, Le mondine in Polesine, 1885
In this scene, he carefully manages the light, as a cloud shadow passes over the foreground. The shoes of the waders are lined up on the bank. The wind blows the skirts of the central figure, and she holds her hat from blowing off. Note the lady with the red hat mostly overlapped by the standing figure.


When his work was exhibited at the Pan-Pacific Exhibition in San Francisco, he was awarded the top prize in Italian painting, and there was a popular exhibition of 18 of his paintings in Los Angeles. 


He had versatile skills and produced work in a range of categories, including portraits. 

Ettore Tito, Raggi di Sole (Rays of Sun) 1892

Ettore Tito, Pagine d'amore (Pages of Love)
According to the Studio magazine from 1905, "In Paris he even found himself looked on as chic, and the fashionable painter of the day. He used to come to London almost annually; he worked for the “Graphic” and also for the American magazine “Scribner's.”


He produced a series of risqué illustrations of proverbs with a contemporary flair. This one says "Aide-toi, le ciel t'aidera" (Heaven helps those who help themselves). 

Ettore Tito, Amore e le Parche (Love and the Fates), 1909
In his later career he was inspired by 18th century Venetian painting to paint symbolic and allegorial subjects.

Ettore Tito on Wikipedia (1851—1941)
Art Contrarian Ettore Tito
Another blog post on Ettore Tito
Book on Ettore Tito (old book in Italian)

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Van Schendel's Moonlight Markets

Petrus Van Schendel was born today, April 21, in 1806. 


To paint his famous candlelit scenes, he divided his Brussels studio into two spaces: an illuminated part where he did his painting and a darker section where he posed his models. 


His outdoor market scenes often set up a contrast between lantern light and moonlight. The candles and lanterns illuminate the fronts of the figures, and each flame is surrounded by a glowing halo of light. The moonlight is relatively cool and the buildings only dimly seen in the shadows.

The challenge with painting the effect of dim light is to suppress detail in the shadows and to make the transitions gradual. We're accustomed to seeing photographic interpretations of night scenes, which typically include far more detail than the human eye can see.
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Wikipedia: Petrus Van Schendel

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Remembering Alphonse Mucha





Alphonse Mucha's son Jiří (1915-1991), who wrote one of the best books on the artist, went before the camera in 1975 to share his recollections. He leafs through old prints and portfolios and tours the family home in Prague.

About 14 minutes into the video, he talks about the reference photographs that he discovered among his father's things. The photos were especially helpful for drapery. Mucha would not copy the photograph, Jiri says, instead he would just use it as inspiration. (Link to video)

He says that his father put the idea of the perfect women on such a high pedestal that he was aloof and even disdainful around his actual models. When his father was about 13, he fell in love with a girl his age, who died. Forever afterward, he cherished that childlike feminine ideal, and tried to recapture it in his work.



Another video that's well worth seeing is the slide lecture on Mucha given by Felicia Zavarella Stadelman. The vivid stories she tells brings the artist to life.  (Link to video)
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Alphonse Maria Mucha by Jiri Mucha (1989-03-15)
Previous posts on Mucha

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Painting the Background for Ophelia

In the summer of 1851, Pre-Raphaelite painters John Everett Millais and William Holman Hunt traveled to the Elwell River in England, each in hopes of painting the background for an ambitious picture that they had planned in their heads. 

Millais wanted to paint Hamlet's Ophelia drowning in a stream, and his plan was to paint the background first.


Following the advice of critic John Ruskin to capture every detail faithfully—“rejecting nothing—selecting nothing”—Millais dutifully recorded the "flowering rush, river daisy, forget-me-not, willow herb, meadowsweet, and the wonderful tangle of brier bush with its multitude of dog roses in bud and bloom."

According to a 1923 biography: 'They were up by six o’clock and at their selected spots by eight o’clock, where they painted until evening, returning to their lodgings about seven o’clock; Hunt had to walk four miles and Millais two to their respective painting places. 

'In a letter to Mr. Combe, Millais gives an interesting description of the trials and difficulties of the time : “I sit tailor-fashion under an umbrella throwing a shadow scarcely larger than a halfpenny for eleven hours, with a child’s mug within reach to satisfy my thirst from the running stream beside me. I am threatened with a notice to appear before the magistrate for trespassing in a field and destroying the hay; likewise by the admission of a bull in the same field after the said hay be cut; I am also in danger of being blown by the wind into the water and becoming intimate with the feelings of Ophelia when that lady sank to a muddy death, together with her (less likely) total disappearance through the wrath of the flies. There are two swans who not a little add to my misery by persisting in watching me from the exact spot I wish to paint, occasionally destroying every water-weed within their reach.’’'

'Their lodgings were far from comfortable; their hunger had to be appeased with an unvarying diet of chops, until Millais writes that he has taken such “an aversion to sheep that I feel my very feet revolt at the proximity of woollen socks.”'

The process of painting the background on location took more than two months.
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Quotes from 'John Everett Millais: Master Painters of the World' by Arthur Fish, 1923
Previously on the blog: Ophelia by Millais

Sunday, March 31, 2019

Was Zorn an Impressionist?


Swedish artist Anders Zorn working on his
painting Mora Marknad (The Mora Fair) 1892.
Blog reader Mel Gibsokarton translated some memoirs of Russian painter Konstantin Korovin, which included this story of Anders Zorn (Swedish, 1860-1920) in Russia.

Zorn had joined a group of dignitaries for a polite evening that included the artists Korovin and Polenov, the Governor of Moscow, and a lot of high-society ladies. They were all interested in meeting the famous artist-foreigner.

As they gathered around the great round table to drink tea, one of the ladies declared:

"'I tell you, the paintings these days,' one lady said. 'Awful! All brushstrokes and brushstrokes, it doesn’t make sense. Horrible. I have been to an exhibition in Petersburg lately. They said, these are the Impressionists. A haystack is drawn, and, just imagine, blue… Impossible, awful. We have hay, and, I think, everywhere. Green, is it not? And his is blue! And yet more brushstrokes and brushstrokes… A famous, they say, artist-impressionist, Frenchman. It’s God knows what! But I'm glad you are not an Impressionist. Hopefully, we don’t have them and thank God.'"

"'I see,' Zorn blinked somewhat uneasily. 'Yes. But Velasquez is also an impressionist, my lady,' he said.

"'Really?,' the ladies were surprised.

"'Yes, and he' (Zorn pointed at me) 'is an impressionist.'

"'You don't say, really?' The ladies were surprised again. 'But he painted Sophia’s portrait so smoothly!'

"On the road back home Zorn asked me: 'Is this high society?'"

"'Yes,' I said.

"'How strange.'

"Zorn became silent. And the next morning he packed his briefcases and left for his home in Switzerland Sweden."
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From the book "Константин Коровин вспоминает..."  (Konstantin Korovin reminisces...) Thanks, Mel.
Book on Zorn: Anders Zorn: Sweden's Master Painter
Wikipedia: Anders Zorn

Wednesday, March 27, 2019

The Fleeting Fame of Anton von Werner

Anton von Werner directed the Prussian Academy of Art in Berlin from 1875 until his death in 1915.
Self portrait of Anton von Werner (1843-1915)
Because his work is associated with German military subjects, he is largely overlooked today. But he was greatly respected in his time. In his memoir, Emil Fuchs (American/Austrian 1866–1929) reflected on von Werner's renown:

Oil studies from life by Anton von Werner
"'The great Anton von Werner,' he was called. It was said of him that he could put more art into the painting of a soldier's boots than others could put into the face. His studio at the Academy was filled to overflowing with patriotic pictures. 

Proclamation of Prussian king Wilhelm I as German Emperor at Versailles,
by Anton von Werner, 1885
"He painted the Proclamation of William the Great as Emperor at Versailles, the Negotiation of Peace at Versailles in which Bismarck forces Thiers to sign the Treaty, and innumerable other historic canvases. 

Illustration by Anton von Werner
"Von Werner was considered an institution in German art second only to the great Menzel, his illustrious contemporary. The Academy was proud of possessing so distinguished a leader. And excellent he doubtless was for that particular post. His speeches at the beginning and end of each term were considered classics of their kind. Even in my brief stay there, two things which he said still linger in my memory. At his opening address he took a piece of chalk, and holding it up, declared:

"'Talent is one. It is the basis of art. Without it any amount of industry is of no value.'

"Then he added a zero and held the one beside it. 'But,' he went on, 'talent and industry combined make ten.' 

"At another time he said, 'Academies are only for mediocrity. They are the crutches upon which art students learn to walk. But some of the students are born with wings—those are the geniuses. To them the academy is only a hindrance.' 


Anton von Werner, The Arrival of King Wilhelm I in Saarbrücken 
on 9th August 1870 (sketch above, finish below)

"When, before starting for Italy, I took leave of him, he gave me another grain from his supply of wisdom: 'If the world praises you, it is good; if it abuses you, that is not bad; but beware if it passes you in silence.' 

"Had anybody told him at that time that his pictures would be almost forgotten even before his death, he would have been astounded. So imbued was he with the sense of his own greatness and importance, with such deference was he treated by the high and lowly, that nothing but eternity could have appeared to him as a possible measure of his fame's duration."
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Quote from Emil Fuchs, With Pencil, Brush, and Chisel: The Life of an Artist, 1925
Previously: Detective Storytelling (German soldiers billeted in chateau).
German Wikipedia lists von Werner's work in collections.
Thanks, Christian, Christoph, and Kev.