"The Academic Tradition Revisited," New York City Tribune, July 26, 1990, pp. 16, 14.

The Academic Tradition Revisited

by Jason Edward Kaufman

From their inception in the Renaissance until the current century, European academies of art dedicated themselves to the conservation of the classical tradition. The high-minded themes of mythology, history, and the Bible; the idealization of nature; and the laws of aesthetic composition were central to the purpose of these institutions. Only in the 20th century was the rigorous curriculum slackened, as modernism cultivated a new genus of products in what had hitherto been the field of "art."

It is not often these days that we are pointedly reminded of what has been sacrificed in the modernist era. Modernism has gathered around it such momentum that to challenge its precepts is to estrange oneself from the mainstream. But, looking around the contemporary artworld, one cannot help but wonder what has happened to the remarkably high level of technical achievement that was once the legacy of the academies' disciplined course of instruction.

Rather than quality of facture, artists today claim "meaning" is their primary concern. But, with what have the lofty themes of the academies been largely replaced? Irresponsible consumerism, puerile expressionism, facile conceptualism, hermetic minimalism -- in short, with a variety of inarticulate or inconsequential modes that offer the viewer the aesthetic and intellectual engagement of a placemat.

The utter abandonment of pre-modern values -- those universals espoused by the academic tradition -- has led to a remarkably stagnant, often inane period in the history of art.

Occasionally, an exhibition reminds us of what has been discarded in the mad rush for the new. Such is the function of "Prize-winning Drawings from the Roman Academy, 1682-1754," an assortment of late-Baroque figurative drawings executed by members of the Academy of Saint Luke in Rome, currently on view at the National Academy of Design on upper Fifth Avenue.

Organized by the Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome, in cooperation with The Pennsylvania State University's Palmer Museum of Art, the show comprises 77 large-format figurative drawings which were awarded prizes in the competitions perennially conducted by the Roman Academy. Selected from the more than 350 preserved in the Academy's archive, none of the exhibited sheets has ever been exhibited outside of Rome before.

The exhibition owes its existence to the chairman of the Pennsylvania State University Department of Art History, Hellmut Hager, a scholar whose research has made him an authority on the Academy's collections. It was he who arranged a similar survey of the architectural drawings from the Roman Academy, which traveled to Penn State in 1981.

The chronological limits of the material in the current show correspond to the range of the completed portion of the inventory of the Academy's collection of competition drawings. Undertaken in 1988, the three-volume catalogue is nearing completion.

These drawings are among the most persuasive arguments for the efficacy of the academic system. They convey not only the technical expertise of their highly trained draftsmen, but also the tenor of artistic and intellectual life in the Roman late-Baroque.

While many pieces bear comparison to those by more celebrated masters, some represent the only works securely attributed to their artists. According to Jacopo Recupero, General Secretary of the Academy, the intent of the present show is "to give a more precise definition to the less fortunate protagonists of these competitions who ... in no way merit oblivion."

Founded in 1593, the Roman Academy of Saint Luke (throughout Christendom, academies were typically dedicated to the evangelist Luke, who is held to have painted the Virgin during her life) enjoyed financial support from the papacy which, in turn, utilized the institution as a cultural and political instrument.

In 1676, for example, to maintain good relations with the French king, the Pope merged the Roman school with the French Academy. Immediately, a Frenchman was named President, and the medals, conferred by Louis XIV, subsequently went to French students. Another instance of expedient papal intervention occurred in 1713, when Clement XI ordered that all students compose works on the theme of the four saints whom the Pope had recently canonized.

The Academy was a self-fashioned font of classicism, that tradition which best exemplified the sophistication and the well-ordered magnificence of the kind of civilization the papacy wished to lead. It attracted students from throughout Italy, as well as elsewhere in Europe. Its faculty members were among the most highly-regarded practitioners of their day.

Until 1702, the student drawing competitions took place only sporadically. Then, during the pontificate of Clement XI (1700-21), for a brief period they were held regularly, and hence acquired the epithet, "concorsi Clementini." But, the deaths of two important academicians and changes in the political climate disrupted the schedule, and from 1713 to 1725 there was only one competition (1716), and but a few more over the following quarter century.

The student contests were the apogee of the academic program, and most of the students elected to enter. In order to participate, artists (virtually all of whom were male) had to be enrolled and have a professor as a sponsor. In the classes, which met weekday mornings from October to May, students worked from the model, or copied Raphael, Michelangelo, and Bernini. In the afternoons, they augmented their studio work by attending lectures in perspective, anatomy, and architectural theory.

The competitions were divided into sections corresponding to the age and level of ability achieved by the students. Thus, the "third class" competition, for the youngest contenders, consisted of a copying exercise; the "second class," of a thematic illustration (one not overly complicated in terms of figuration); and the "first class," a full-blown, complex staging of an historical scene.

From contest to contest, the themes would vary, although they tended to be taken from Roman history, mythology, or the Bible. (The political significance of the themes and the process by which subjects were determined, should have been better elucidated in the catalogue texts.) The students had months to work up their submissions, and their solutions were often recognizably dependent on the examples of their masters, many of whom also served as judges.

The grandiose award ceremonies took place in the Sala degli Orazi e Curati in the Palazzo dei Conservatori, and were attended by Cardinals and members of the Roman nobility. Once the jury had given a prize, the legitimacy of the award was proven by the winner knocking off a design extempore. A student who won the first class prize could no longer compete, but, his victory sufficently established his professional reputation that he was assured profitable commissions.

When two or more of the prizes in a single class are present, one discovers that the juries generally made judicious appraisals. Of course, this does not rule out the possibility that equally fine drawings were overlooked. But, from the evidence at hand, the draftsmanship and compositional solutions of the first prize sheets generally seem better than those of the second prize, and so on. Nevertheless, it would be tremendously illuminating to have the juries' comments as a guide to their decisions.

The fact that drawing, as opposed to painting, was the medium for the competitions reflects the academic belief (first propounded by the Florentine Giorgio Vasari) in the intellectual superiority of disegno (linear drawing) to colorito (painting in color). The former, it was argued, was an exercise of the mind, whereas the latter, a manipulation of the base senses.

The intellectuality of the designs is exemplified by the numerous quotes and allusions to artistic forebears, both ancient and modern, and to contemporary teachers. At one point, to quote a figural invention of Raphael's was virtually compulsory -- like figure eights in figure skating. Some competitions were tainted by rumors that the instructors had been overly zealous in retouching the efforts of their student entrants.

The compositional solutions vary in their degree of realism and illusionistic depth, in the amount of their detailing and chiaroscuro, in the emotional intensity of their characterizations, in the unity and energy of depicted actions, and in the complexity and clarity of composition. But, despite their stylistic diversity, the underlying principles are consistent.

Technically speaking, these large drawings (up to 710 x 980 mm.), executed in pencil, charcoal, red or white chalk evince that supreme facility with the materials of one's trade that was the hallmark of the academic system.

Even the most basic studies from the model evince an acuteness of observation that was basic to academic endeavor, but is foreign to artists today. Yet, nature is only the starting point from which each artist embarks on his flight of fancy.

What is remarkable, and perhaps most refreshing to late-20th-century eyes, is the lack of irony in these works. These artists were not being facetious, sarcastic, or otherwise ulterior. Their drawings seek to emblematize uplifting themes of honor, dignity, loyalty, patriotism, and divinity, and the sincerity of their undertakings comes across.

It is present in Giuseppe Peroni's The Martyrdom of the Seven Maccabbean Brothers, grand prize winner in the first class competition of 1739. It is present also in Giovanni Battista Calandrucci's rendition of The Intervention of the Sabine Women, which took the third prize in the first class competition of 1706.

But, as much as their artistic integrity, it is the aesthetic properties of these works which often command our rapt attention. Take, for example, Pietro Bianchi's depiction of Saint Pius Healing an Obsessed Woman with a Touch of his Stole, which won second prize in the first class competition of 1713.

The eye moves from left to right, following the progression from dark to light. It is drawn to the supernal glow of the saint's halo at center-right. His raised benedictory hand, depicted in heightened relief, leads the eye toward the obsessed woman's agonized, awe-filled expression.

Her slightly oversized arms are thrown outward in a deep arc that expands the space in which the miracle occurs. The startled looks and gestures of the onlookers augment the drama. Especially poignant is the understated amazement of the beholders directly behind the Saint, whose elegance and mystery suggest figures by the great Venetian Sebastiano del Piombo.

Another work that rewards close examination is Alexander the Great Giving the Model Campaspe to Apelles, by Ludovico Dorigny, which took fourth prize in the first class competition of 1673. Yet another is Charles van Loo's Feast of Belshazzar, a melange of motifs reminiscent of Rubens, van Dyck, Correggio, and Parmigianino, which was the grand prize winner in 1728.

Staged in theatrical, almost choreographed arrangements, the cinematic expansiveness of these Baroque drawings introduces us to a mode of figural invention that is entirely forsaken. Though multi-figural images are no longer the province of drawing or painting, nor even of photography, the power of these enthralling images leads one to consider a whole range of potentially incisive contemporary allegorical applications. How might the modern academic address the salient themes of society in the 1990s? He might start by studying the time-honored formulas of the past.

"Prize-winning Drawings from the Roman Academy" continues at the National Academy of Design, 1083 Fifth Avenue (between 89th and 90th Streets), through September 2. The accompanying catalogue offers biographical sketches of the artists, and stylistic analyses of their works, but very little explication of the sometimes recondite themes depicted. Fortunately, the exhibition's wall labels describe the subjects of the drawings, making it possible for the layman to enjoy their thematic significance as well as their superb draftsmanship. For further information call (212) 369-4880.

Jason Edward Kaufman ©